Maarg and Gabby exited the truck, their boots crunching on the shattered glass of the street. Leaving Henry, Johan, and Andy behind, they moved silently to the cafe's side entrance. The door was unlocked, a surprisingly trusting detail. Maarg pushed it open just enough to slip through, with Gabby following closely behind.
The bell above the door was gone, so their entry was soundless. The air inside was cool and still, thick with the nostalgic scent of stale coffee and old pastries. "Damn, it's quiet," Maarg whispered, the words echoing in the stillness. "Even more than normal."
Gabby, her hand already on the butt of her Desert Eagle, replied in a low tone. "Don't jinx it, maybe the guy is sleeping."
"Sleeping? In the morning? He's old but not that old that he would rest all the time," Maarg commented back, his voice tinged with a mix of affection and worry.
They kept low, moving with practiced silence behind the front counter, past the antique espresso machine, and towards the back hallway. Maarg opened the back door the most secure way of going to the sleeping quarters of the cafe owner on the second floor. As he opened the door a wave of cool air mixed with a fresh, metallic scent hit them.
In front of them, three corpses layed on the cold stone floor and turned the opposite way, stood a man who could only be Gustavo. He was a slight, seemingly innocent-looking figure, impeccably dressed. In his hand, he held his worn and old walking stick—except it was a sheathed cane sword, its hilt gleaming. But it wasn't the hilt that drew their eyes. The polished blade, now exposed and glistening, was stained a dark, coppery red.
Gustavo's back was to them as he looked at the three dead bodies with a controlled, simmering anger. The stone floor and a section of the patterned carpet were covered in a thin, sticky layer of blood. The air had a slight smell of death, now sickeningly mixed with the sweet, familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee. The scene was a visceral, horrifying painting, a testament to a brutal struggle. It was as if the devil himself had swept through the peaceful cafe, leaving behind a trail of silent, bloody justice.
Maarg's eyes widened in disbelief, his gaze sweeping over the grim scene before him. The air, thick with the scent of coffee and death, felt impossibly heavy. He leaned in close to Gabby, his voice a low, horrified whisper. "What in the hell happened here?"
Gabby's eyes, however, were fixed on the old man, her expression unreadable. "No clue," she replied, her own voice barely audible. "But the vibes are all over the place. Look at him."
Gustavo, as if sensing their presence, turned his head with a slow, deliberate motion. The intense anger that had been etched on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a look of profound surprise. His eyes flickered down to the blooded blade in his hand, and in a frantic motion, he twisted the cane, retracting the gleaming steel with a sharp snick as it slid back into its sheath. He held the cane in front of him, as if it were a simple walking stick, attempting to hide the gruesome evidence of the bloody carnage. The attempt was clumsy and obvious.
The air was thick with unspoken questions. Gustavo's innocent demeanor had returned, but his eyes, still wide with surprise, held a deeper, more complicated emotion. He looked from Maarg to Gabby, his mouth opening as if to speak.
Gustavo's eyes, wide with surprise, slowly softened into a look of profound weariness. The attempt to hide his bloody cane sword was clumsy and brief, and now he simply stood there, a frail old man in a pristine cafe, surrounded by death. He looked from Maarg's nervous smile to Gabby's unreadable stare, a long sigh escaping his lips.
"Is everything alright, Mr. Cappuccino?" Maarg's voice was a shaky whisper, a nervous smile plastered on his face. But his eyes, wide and filled with horror, betrayed the lie.
Gustavo slowly shook his head. He looked down at the bodies, his expression heavy with a mix of sorrow and rage. "No, my boy," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Everything is far from alright." He didn't bother to feign normalcy. "They came for the supplies. I couldn't let them have it not like how they were acting."
He looked back up at them, his tired eyes now holding a glimmer of steel. He wasn't the innocent cafe owner from before; he was a gatekeeper, a warrior in a tailored suit. He gestured with his chin towards the bodies. "Now, you tell me. Are you here for the same reason?"
Maarg's nervous smile vanished, replaced by a look of sincere panic. He quickly shook his head, his hands held up in a gesture of surrender. "No, no, no," he said, his voice rushed and earnest. The last thing he wanted was a fight with Gustavo.
But while Maarg was trying to de-escalate, Gabby was ready. Her hand was already on the grip of her Desert Eagle, her stance shifting, prepared for a fight at the slightest hostile move from the old man. Her gaze was as cold and sharp as the cane sword's blade, a lethal calm in the face of Maarg's fear.
Gustavo saw the contrast immediately. His eyes flickered between the two of them, one trying to make peace, the other ready for war. He looked at Maarg his eyes adjusting to the darkness and soon his familiar smile returned." It's you, Maarg, my boy," he said, the name a sigh of relief. "I Knew that you would still be alive, so? May I know what brings you here today?"
His gaze then shifted from Maarg to the silent figure standing just behind him. His eyes took in Gabby's guarded posture and the lethal calm she exuded. A small, knowing smile touched Gustavo's lips, acknowledging the shared understanding of a warrior's resolve.
He gestured with a nod of his head. "And who is this brave young man with you?"
Maarg's horrified expression softened slightly, a flicker of pride crossing his face. He placed a reassuring hand on Gabby's shoulder, still carefully looking over his friend's blood-stained hand and the lifeless bodies on the floor. "This is Gabby. He's my partner."
Maarg's nervous smile vanished. He took a step back from the bodies. The nonchalant tone of his voice was completely at odds with the gravity of the situation. "I had a favor to ask," he said slowly, his eyes meeting Gustavo's, "but it looks like you're busy with stuff."
The old man's face, already pale from the exertion, tightened. He gripped the sheathed cane sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. "W...wait...I...I can help..." he stammered, his words spilling out in a desperate rush. "...just...tell me." His attempt to sound casual was failing miserably; his nervousness was a thick cloud around him. Gustavo was clearly shaken.
"We're here for a favor. A big one." He glanced back towards the truck. "Our team has to split. We have a meeting with cobra
"A few members of our group, Henry, Andy, and Johan," Maarg continued, "they... they don't want to go. We need to find them a safe place to stay until we get back. So i thought what better than the safest cafe in the world "
He gestured with a nod of his head, indicating the three men still in the truck. Gustavo looked from the three bodies on his floor to the thought of the three men waiting in the truck, a grim irony not lost on him.
Maarg's plea was direct and sincere. "We need you to keep them here. Safe and alive. Just for a while."
The weight of the request hung in the air. Gustavo looked from Maarg to Gabby, his eyes filled with a new, sober understanding. The cost of this safe place was far greater than he had ever imagined.