Tirons: 6 Players

Chapter 1: Welcome

Saturday September 23rd, Downtown Cafe, 7:00pm

          Light bounced off the bricks of the roof by my feet, even though it was Autumn, the sun kept drying Tirons from every droplet on its surface, and my loneliness spilled into the horizon until it covered a ghost park. Everyone's gone. This serenity comes every year, as a routine I usually get outside to enjoy the last day's sunset: alone, no laughter, no sound of moving rides, no happy silhouettes. Precious and feared silence that works as an appetizer before the bad mouth taste that blood gives. I contemplated the mask on my hand, a worn golden rabbit that has been a substitute to my face over the years. I placed it in front of me, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I pulled the ties and dropped them at my nape.

          I bent over to see through the skylight of the cafe. From my hiding spot I could see the barista clean tables for closing, they wouldn't open the cafe until next Monday, I wouldn't be able to get food until then. I needed to act fast before this last chance closed. I descended quickly to the salad bar by the broken skylight. I opened the freezer, took ham and packed cheese from it, some bread from the cupboard and I secured all of it on my coat's pockets. I saw the barista from the corner of my eye, he was still cleaning from the other side of the establishment, still with spiky hairs on I decided to continue the looting, only the most important thing was missing after all. I climbed up the dishwasher, opened the cupboard and looked between the bags for a City Full Roast. There was only one marginalized bag at the back, only distinguishable because of its bag tip in a bright blue. I had to crane in a narrow space between the bar and the cupboard to reach it. As soon as I touched it, I firmly snatched it from the cupboard, the metallic bag reacted with a conspicuous crunch. I stopped breathing, I swallowed.

          —Hey! —Yelled the barista from the other side of the cafe, he approached me quickly meandering through the tables.

          Out of sheer instinct I stepped back from the cupboard and fell, my chin hit the bar, my teeth clashed, the force escalated up to my head and punctured. Semi-foggy sight. Misalligned mask. I couldn't defend myself even if I had left armed, I needed an exit. Disoriented, I tried to escape by the skylight above me. I clumsily stepped back to the salad bar and with the coffee still in hand, tried to climb to the roof. I made myself some space lifting the skylight with my free and leant on with the other; as a rat, I squirmed to get out between the broken plastic and concrete. A cold, metallic force wrapped around my leg and began to pull it.

           —Let me go! —I tried to kick to get rid of his hands, he kept pulling strongly.

           —Why would I let you go? —He asked jokingly.

           In desperation I began to kick faster, the edge of the broken plastic made small gashes in my legs, but I managed to escape. I jumped from the roof to the trash lying behind and from there I descended into the sewer: my "home".

          I waited in silence. Footsteps ecoed above me. Dripping. The faint tone of a frustrated exhalation. It's over now. I took off the mask and proceded to leave the food in the least dirty corner of the table, then poured the blue bag on the coffee maker. I turned on the old computer, logged in as 'GACOII' and surfed to the player list added this evening to check it for a tenth time now: Sophie, Eron, Wilbur, Max and Riffney. They'll have the bad luck to get here in a couple of minutes. I contemplated the few data on screen, slowing down particularly on their ages. They're only kids... I'm only a kid myself. I haven't stopped thinking all day about how they could understand me, I wouldn't be the odd one out this time. It could be... maybe... this year... Of course I'd be the odd one, stupid scrap face!