[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/ksxRZBJ8/sandras.jpg[/img][/center][hr][center][sup][color=cadetblue][b]SANDRA’S DINER IN THE STRIP.
NOW.[/b][/color][/sup][/center]
“Need any cream or sugar?” the waitress asks, setting the cup of steaming hot coffee in front of me.

I nod, [color=cadetblue]”Yeah, one cream and three sugar, please.”[/color]

She pulls away to grab the cream and sugar and my eyes gaze over the diner, taking in the retro aesthetic with the cherry red leather booths towards the entrance and a jukebox in the corner playing some slow jazz. The waitress plops a creamer and a few packets of sugar in front of me and I get to work on mixing them into my coffee, taking a sip once I’m done. It scalds my tongue and burns my throat as it goes down, making me grimace and let out a slow sigh.

“Rough night, hun?” the waitress asks, leaning her elbows against the counter and cupping her jaw with her hands. I shrug, looking over to my helmet sitting in the seat next to me. The cracked visor has been patched up with a bit of masking tape, but it’s a temporary fix. I’ll have to replace the whole thing at some point, hopefully with something more properly heroic. It’ll work still, for now at least.

[color=cadetblue]”Yeah. You know how it is down in the Docks, just getting your ass kicked for looking at the wrong guy,”[/color] I lie, though it’s at least half of a truth. I [i]did[/i] get my ass kicked. She doesn’t need to know it was by a guy who was my sort of childhood friend.

She nods. “I get ya. My boyfriend got jumped headin’ here to visit me one night last year, buncha guys beat the shit out of him because he was on ‘their turf’ or somethin’ stupid like that. Broke his leg with a crowbar. He was in the hospital for three weeks, then in crutches for two months after that. He’s still limpin’.”

[color=cadetblue]”Shit, I’m sorry,”[/color] I say.

The waitress waves a hand to pass it off. “It’s alright. Not like you were one of the assholes who did it.” She looks over at the window into the kitchen, then back to me. “You want somethin’ to eat?”

I shake my head. [color=cadetblue]”No, I’m probably gonna be leaving after I finish this cup.”[/color]

“Take your time, hun,” she says before turning away. She grabs a rag and steps out from behind the counter, heading over to the booths to wipe them down.

I look down into my cup of coffee, slightly cooled now after being neglected during the conversation. Don’t even know why I got coffee when I’m probably going to head straight home and crash after this. [color=cadetblue]”Fuck it,”[/color] I mutter before raising the cup to my lips.
I don’t even get to take a sip before the bell above the door chimes and a man walks in. The waitress moves quickly, getting back behind the counter and heading straight for the coffee pot.

The man's expression carries a weight that his shoulders don’t convey, his steps dragging slightly on the tiled floor. Without even a word he nods to the woman behind the counter. It's gonna be a close call between what arrives at the seat first, the coffee or the newcomer. As he flips his jacket off I spy a shoulder holster carrying a revolver and my shoulders tense, only for the man to fold the jacket nicely and place it onto a seat as he takes his own. [color=slategray]“Thanks Cass, just the usual please.”[/color]

“I just cleaned the damn grill, Dusk,” the cook shouts, his head poking out from the window into the kitchen. Even still, he has a grin on his face.

[color=slategray]”And that's why I’m asking, Phil,”[/color] the man, Dusk apparently, says with a wry smirk that doesn’t make it all the way to his eyes.

“You’re a Goddamn nuisance,” the cook says to the man before pointing a spatula at me. “Don’t you be getting any ideas, kid.”

I raise my hands defensively. [color=cadetblue]”No, no, I’m good.”[/color]

Phil grumbles before I hear the sound of bacon sizzling on the grill.

[color=slategray]”You sure? It looks like you need it,”[/color] Dusk says, looking at me.

“He’s been down the Docks, you know what it can be like down there,” the waitress, Cass apparently, chimes in as she sets the coffee down in front of Dusk.

Dusk raises an eyebrow. [color=slategray]“Oh? You alright?”[/color]

I wave him off. [color=cadetblue]”I live down there, so I’m used to it.”[/color]

He nods along. [color=slategray]”Seen my fair share of cases down there. Can be rough, a lot going on at the moment, keep your wits about you.”[/color]

Cases? Is he a detective? That catches my attention. I shift my posture a bit straighter, setting my full attention on Dusk. How the hell do I ask this without seeming too eager? [color=cadetblue]”Yeah? Anything specific?”[/color]

[color=slategray]”Nothing that isn’t in the news,”[/color] Dusk brushes me off, though he tilts his head a bit in my direction as if to get a better look at me.

Damn, there goes any shot at getting some insider dirt. I try to think of what he could be talking about, there’s so much crap that goes on in the Docks, at least the parts that haven’t been taken over by land developers and hipsters. Too much to keep track of, really. God, I’m a terrible superhero, can’t even keep track of what’s going on in the part of the city I live in.

[color=cadetblue]”Fair enough. Guess a cop shouldn’t really be giving details out to a civilian anyway.”[/color]

[color=slategray]”Oh. I’m not a cop, not anymore.”[/color] He reaches over to his jacket and pulls something out of the pocket, placing it against the counter before sliding it down to me. A business card.

I pick it up and look it over. Dusk Investigations. After taking it in, I set the card back down on the counter. [color=cadetblue]”... Really? I-Vestigate at gmail dot com?”[/color]

Dusk chuckles and gives a sly grin. [color=slategray]”It’s what I do.”[/color]

I smirk. [color=cadetblue]”No, it’s the gmail address. You really couldn’t swing getting your own domain?”[/color]

[color=slategray]”By the time I had the office, the licenses, and the wardrobe, I didn’t have the cash.”[/color]

[color=cadetblue]”The wardrobe? Goth private eye wasn’t already your usual?”[/color]

[color=slategray]”You’d be surprised.”[/color] He looks me up and down. [color=slategray]”You still saving up for the bike?”[/color]

Shit. [color=cadetblue]”Uh, yeah. Had one but um, the engine died. Haven’t replaced it yet.”[/color]

[color=slategray]“Did the engine die before or after you went over the handlebars?”[/color] He points to the helmet which I almost forgot was there, the visor still cracked with the masking tape covering the single hole in it.

[i]Shit![/i] [color=cadetblue]”It was… Before. And I got jumped tonight. That’s why I’m, uh… Like this.”[/color]

[color=slategray]”Huh. Interesting choice to wear the helmet without the bike.”[/color] I freeze when he says that. Thankfully, the tension is broken by another bell chiming, this time coming from the kitchen window.

“Bacon cheeseburger and fries on the pass,” Phil says, shooting a dirty look at Dusk as he sets a plate and a basket of fries on the window. Cass takes the food and sets it in front of Dusk. My stomach growls as I see the clogged artery on a plate that’s been prepared. Pretty sure everyone heard that.

Dusk pours some of the fries on his plate then slides the basket over to me. [color=slategray]”Help yourself,”[/color] he says.

I look down at the fries and thank God for the hospitality of strangers. [color=cadetblue]”Thanks.”[/color] I take a few fries and toss them into my mouth, savoring the saltiness. Damn, I really needed this.

Dusk picks up his burger and takes a bite. There’s a moment of silence as we both eat before he breaks it. [color=slategray]”So… Who are these delinquents that jumped you?”[/color] he asks around a mouthful of burger.

[color=cadetblue]”Oh. Um. Just some guys. Thugs. I dunno, some wannabe street gang or something.”[/color] It would be believable if I wasn’t stuttering like an idiot.

[color=slategray]”I see. Use that to get away, did you?”[/color] He gestures to my side and I look down to see that I still have the grappling hook on my belt. [color=slategray]”That thing’s an antique.”[/color]

Fuck. [color=cadetblue]”Um. I, uh. No. I mean yes. Yeah, for sure.”[/color]

[color=slategray]”A bit of advice?”[/color]

[color=cadetblue]”Yeah?”[/color]

[color=slategray]”If you’re going to do… this.”[/color] He gestures to my entire outfit. [color=slategray]”Learn to lie better.”[/color]

“Yeah, no, didn’t fool me either,” Cass chimes in as she continues wiping down a booth.

I sigh, scratching the back of my head in embarrassment. [color=cadetblue]”Yeah, probably should learn to do that…”[/color]

[color=slategray]”Hey if you want to be public, then that’s fine. Plenty of public heroes. Queen of Blades, Mountain, the Rallis-Reynolds family. I could name a dozen more.”[/color]

The mention of my mother makes me freeze. I recover after a moment and speak up, my voice low and steadier than it was throughout most of the conversation. [color=cadetblue]”Doesn’t help considering a lot of them are dead. Two of the ones you named, even.”[/color]

[color=slategray]”No, that is certainly a consideration.”[/color] He taps the card, still left on the counter. [color=slategray]”I’m currently working on a case about missing Grays. You let me know if you hear anything.”[/color]

I look back at the card, then pick it up and slip into my pocket. [color=cadetblue]”Alright. Can do.”[/color]

[color=slategray]“So uh, what can you do?”[/color]

I smirk a bit at the question, then hold my hand out to the side. My blade manifests in my grip, glowing a brilliant blue that lights up the space.

Dusk's eyes widen slightly. [color=slategray]”Wait, Scott?”[/color]

[color=cadetblue][b]”Actually, it's-”[/b][/color]

[center][sup][h1][b][color=black] A C E  O F  B L A D E S[/color]
[color=cadetblue]A C E  O F  B L A D E S[/color][/b][/h1][/sup][/center]

[right][sup][i]Written in collaboration with [@Sep].[/i][/sup][/right]