How very…obnoxious, Anacin thought.

The small new-age café was quite possibly the tackiest shop he had ever set foot in. Anacin, the undisputed master of all things gaudy was nearly morally offended by this room. Four large pleather couches (yes, REAL fake leather) were apparently drenched in red paint and haphazardly spread around a tall round table fit for a school library. The walls were split into three different horizontal stripes- one an old-looking leopard print, one a faux log-cabin wallpaper, the other a cherry red. The far wall was different, giving way to a sickening view of purposely fowl lime-green paint. A row of computers were spread along another wall, and a 50's diner counter- red linoleum and all- was next to the aged machines.

All in all, it was so horrible Anacin had to use many large words to describe it.

"You like?" the grinning man who had entered with him asked.

"I-" Anacin started. Play nice, he told himself sharply. Oh make me, his other half snapped. "I…it's quite…nice…wow."

He grinned. "I knew it was your taste. Took me awhile to get truly…truly inspired, you know?"

Holding in a rising laugh, Anacin replied, "I'll bet. So do you legally own it or is it in your father's name?"

"No, I just designed it. He still owns it. But I get- basically- a third of the profit. Want a drink?"

"Hm. Pretty good for- what, a twenty year old? I'll have a coffee, yeah. Two cream."

He turned and stared, questioning with his eyes. "Well- what kind of coffee?"

Anacin smirked. Yuppies…the lot of them. "Ok, y'know what? You go get me something- something pretty. I'll go grab one of those…pleather couch things. Kay?"

Nodding, he turned towards the counter. Anacin put a hand to his mouth to hide the gaping grin as he saw the guy mouth 'pleather' in bewilderment. Coughing when the man turned back, he hurried over to the last sofa and amused himself giving odd looks to the so-called-trendy typical art students and writers who sipped lattes as they jotted things down on notepads or discussed the surrealist exhibition over at the gallery last week. You shouldn't mock them you know, his sensible voice-in-his-head told him. You're just like them. You- you saw that exhibit opening day. Smiling, he answered himself. I'm like them. Ha. I laugh at your good jest, even. And that exhibit just plain sucked- nothing original in the whol-

"Caramel frappachino?" the man offered. Taking the too-fancy-to-be-decently-caffeinated beverage, Anacin noted the leather pants on the guy. What are you, a desperate gay thirty year ol-

"So what kind of name is Anacin?" the guy interrupted for the second time.

Stop talking ove- he thought as he said, "Well, just a nickname obviously. The real name's Mach." Anacin realized that he had no idea what this man's name was.

The guy shrugged. "Alright, same question. You have odd names, by the way. Not in a bad way or anything, just-"

"I know what you mean." Anacin interjected, all the while thinking, Ha-ha, interrupted YOU for once…wad. "I come from- well, an eccentric family to say the least. It's a long story about bot-" This time, something shattering on the ground from the kitchen behind the counter interrupted both his sentence and his thoughts. Mankind never wins, he told himself as he ignored the jumping people all around him and calmly turned his head around to see the disturbance. No further sounds came from the area, so Anacin turned back and looked disdainfully at his frothy beverage.

Not worth being called a coffee, he thought. "Well then. What's the story behind your name?" he asked.

Still slightly shaky from the sudden sound, the man replied, "N-nothing unusual. My grandfather's name. My family- although suited to modern life- maintains those kinds of tradi-"

A large clashing sound came from the kitchen. This is actually kind of amusing, Anacin thought. He now laughed openly as the man literally jumped to his feet. "Relax, it's just a mouse. In the house." Ignoring the odd looks he was being given for interrupting the stunned silence, he turned to the kitchen. A frying pan then zoomed out the beaded curtain separating the two rooms, narrowly missed a row of bottles, then crashed into the lime-green wall-of-hell. Two people in the room screamed, and a coffee (coffee-imitator-beverage) was dropped to the ground.

Silence reigned once more. Unable to keep it hidden, Anacin burst out laughing at the room's lack of nerves. That was just a LITTLE bit odd, though. You gotta admit. Standing up, he walked past the stunned waitress at the counter and parted the curtain with a hand. It's plastic, he thought vaguely.

The kitchen was a much more acceptable room than the last, with appliances and counters a sleek metal, and smooth gray walls. Anacin would have asked to drink the coffee-beverage in here had there not been a literal splash of blood on the industrial oven. Suddenly focused and attentive, he edged toward the other side of the tall island. "Are- are you…" he started. Of course they're not alright, he snapped at himself. Help. Now.

Quickly walking to the other side, he saw a young man in store uniform being bit by another employee on the neck. Blood was still flowing out from what must have been his jugular vein. The other worker's hands were extremely yellowed, almost turning as gray as the walls as they clasped the poor guy's neck. Eyes partly opened, the victim seemed to be in a sort of stupor.

Anacin shivered.

As if the small motion had tripped an alarm, the living worker looked up. Part of his nose had been completely ripped away, the red flesh contrasting brilliantly with the pure white eyes. Dried blood was spread over the pasty cheeks, giving way to fresh blood around the mouth.

Anacin blinked seven times in succession. "H- Hi." he muttered, feeling as if he was about to cry in fear.

The impossibly-alive worker unsteadily tried to stand up, two fingers getting caught in the gaping neck wound. The head was lifted as the man- no, corpse, he's dead, right?- began to rise. The fingers became unstuck partway through and fell back down, head rolling back to face Anacin. Thank you, he thought quietly as the dead man staggered towards him.

How tacky. Oh, and this makes me want to drink their coffee even more, Anacin thought, mind racing but body paralyzed. It's true- fear really DOES keep you glued…glued to the floor…

It stepped towards him. Anacin wondered if blood was smeared on the ground, but didn't look down.

"Vampire…" he muttered. "You. You, you, y-"

It grunted.

It grunted, How the- or did it moan? That's not good. This isn't good. Or did it-

The waitress in the other room dropped something. Anacin whipped his head backwards this time. Flinchy, he thought. He stumbled backwards. "Go…" he muttered. With a last disgusted glance at the slowly stalking man-corpse, he dashed back out through the curtain and into the main room, tripping on a large pan on the way. Falling to his knees in the doorway, he yelled, "Go! RUN!"

Either his falling or the screaming seemed to spur the thing behind him on. Taking a last few shaky steps, it lunged for the back of his legs. Anacin unwarily stumbled up, yelping as the thing dove right behind his feet. Leaping forward, he pushed the still petrified waitress out from behind the counter. Nobody had moved. Fuckers, he mentally cursed them. "GO, YOU F-"

The thing, probably charged with adrenaline, quickly but shakily stumbled up and took a few quicker steps. This aroused a trio of shrieks from the oblivious customers. (shut up and go) Pushing the waitress forwards once more, he managed to yell one last, "GO!". Finally, a few people around the couches jerked out of their stupor, and shook their counterparts in an attempt to make them do the same.

Dragging the stumbling waitress behind him, he headed for the door with the now-panicked crowd. They pushed their way out the door with many a scream as the man followed. "HURRY!" Anacin added to the countless mix of terrified yells. In an attempt to slow it down, he grabbed a small potted tree and hurled it at the man. It brushed his arm, but otherwise completely missed. Unaware of this, he hurled a rolled-up newspaper which collided solidly but with no effect. Somebody's arm then yanked him toward the doorway as he was searching for another item. Turning, he saw the waitress pulling him out the door, now capable of movement. As he rushed out, he grabbed the handle and pulled the door shut. The wooden doorstop got caught between the door and its frame, barring further movement. Freeing himself of the waitress' arm, he kicked at the stopper as the man stuck an arm red with its coworker's blood out the crack. Now grabbing him around the shoulders with both hands, the waitress pulled him away with a wail. The man fell through the doorway onto the sidewalk as they both turned and fled down the street with the terrified clientele of this- this smashing new café.

Hmph. Flinchy. You interrupted my coffee break, Anacin thought.

-----

The panicked crowd rushed down the side of the street, talking to each other and their cellphones about the- the incident. Anacin was at the back, his slim figure awkwardly supporting the bawling waitress. A few people split off from the main group, crossing the road in a gap in the cars. Anacin spotted an older man he recognized from the coffee shop talking hurriedly to a policeman in a parked car. He then opened the rear passenger door, ushered a young woman inside, then followed. Turning the alarm on, the policeman quickly made a sloppy U-turn amidst the little traffic there was and headed back to the diner, talking on his radio the whole time. Good. Why didn't I think of…getting help?

"Where are we?" the waitress blurted out in between sobs.

Anacin looked over at her young face, covered in tears, smeared makeup, and a few drops of blood.

"About three minutes away from the diner," he replied quickly, his voice a little shakier than expected.

She didn't respond for a moment. Looking away, he saw that all but three others had turned down another street. Are we going home? he thought blankly. His other self scoffed. Oh, 'Are we going home?' What are you, just another confused drone looking for directions? Make a fucking decis-

"Is Benji dead?" she asked, silencing his thoughts.

"Wh-" He stopped. The café guy…the corpse. Which corpse? "Yeah. I- I think so." he answered. Reassuring, he told himself.

"What happened to- to the new guy?"

"I…maybe he was…sick." Like a dog, Anacin thought crudely. I wonder if that officer is putting him down as we speak. They continued on. Glancing at the group a few steps ahead of them, Anacin saw two women in matching dark outfits clutch tightly to their notebooks, and walking quickly behind those two-

The man whose name was still beyond Anacin turned, slowed, and asked, "What did you see back there?" Smiling thinly, Anacin remained silent. Can't interrupt me if I don't speak, can you? Frustrated, the man pressed on. "What happened to the baker? He looked- God, he looked like a savage," he said, drawing out the last word.

"He had a sudden conversion to cannibalism." Anacin paused. "Something in the coffee, perhaps?"

Stumbling in shock, the man fell behind a few steps. Tears falling silently now, the waitress rested her head on Anacin's neck as if trying to hide. Or forget, he thought. Ignoring the man inquiring about some sort of lawsuit, he asked her, "Where do you live?" Home…we'll all go home and forget. Or accept. Whichever comes first.

"Er- Bicks Street…off Raven…" she mumbled.

Raven- that's the other side of town. "That's far off…do you have a car?"

She stopped dead in her tracks, causing both Anacin and the man behind to stumble. "Benji…drove me." she said before breaking out into loud sobs. Wrapping his arms quickly around her, he hugged her, all the while willing her to stop.

"Just let it out. It's ok." Anacin glanced at the nearly-running women in front. They won't miss us, he decided. "Your- his car's at the café?"

Nodding slightly, she continued to bawl. Turning her around, he pushed past the man and headed back towards the coffee shop. "No," the man started as they passed. "You'r- you can't go back…"

"Why not?" inquired Anacin without looking behind.

Rushing forward a few steps, the man said, "Because there's some sort of homicidal maniac back there, that's why. We gotta- got to wait for police to-"

"Are you blind? A police car went back to the café a minute ago with a few customers. Besides, if we can help them fig-"

"What if I'm blamed for this?" the man cut in. You conceited little asswipe, Anacin thought. "Nobody else needs to know I was at the store today. Just keeping the witnesses to a minimum will probably help them out in the lo-"

"Fuck you, you wailing little bastard," the waitress choked. "We're…I've got to go back, he'll be alive, just…he'll need me."

Anacin smiled. "Atta girl." Turning his head back to the man, he said, "We're going back. If they ask us who entered the store today- for whatever reasons you're thinking of- then we're not lying." He sped up a little, the waitress catching on and imitating.

The man tried to convince them otherwise, but Anacin had completely tuned him out by then. What made that- that man attack…no, eat… Anacin sighed. Maybe he was insane. Maybe he had- had rabies or something. M-

"Changed your mind?" the waitress asked coldly.

Grimacing, the man behind them replied, "Well, I suppose- it's not like the police are going to accuse me of murder…" He trailed off. Anacin noted the still-petrified look on his face.

So we're a posse now. The Café Clique. Dedicated to unraveling the mysteries of sudden cannibal activity in Raccoon City. Maybe he was part of a cult. Is- is he dead now? Did they kill him?

They turned back onto the street of the café. Siren's off, Anacin noted as he looked quickly around the area. What's this café called? You'd think there'd be a sign. Nobody appeared to be in the silent police car. Although this particular street was surrounded by a few tall buildings and penthouses, it felt quite dramatically empty. All the cars parked on the side of the road were gone, save a few near the café. The waitress finally detached herself from Anacin, choosing to try to shrink into her work clothes like a child.

"More blood," the man muttered. Duh, Anacin responded. The door was now streaked with red, the fancy brass stained and hidden. He- the guy, he…must have…Anacin trailed off, unable to guess. They stopped across the street, each too afraid inside to edge any closer.

As if trying to add to this lovely atmosphere, two piercing gunshots rang out from somewhere up high behind them. Each of them whirled around this time, searching the tall apartment complex for the source. "Up there!" the waitress exclaimed, gesturing wildly.

Something fell over the railing of a balcony some ten stories up. "Get back!" one of the others shouted, but Anacin took no notice who had said it, enraptured by the (it's a person, isn't it?) thing flipping in the air as it plummeted. Bare seconds later, it hit the grass below. What must have been blood splashed out, carrying all the way to Anacin's legs. Mouth open in pure shock, he strained his eyes in an attempt to see what (who?) it was.

"Oh God, oh God, oh-" the waitress mumbled as she hastily wiped blood from her legs, only succeeding in smearing it. Who- Anacin thought as he gazed at the mutilated corpse.

"It's dead," the man said. Shut up, moron, I know it's dead.

Contrary to his brain's biggest wish to run away mindlessly, his feet stumbled forward a few steps. The body (-is it too gored to count as a body?-) was nearly pure black as if it had been charred to death. Still stepping forward, he walked over the bloody grass, eyes fixed on the- the remains. He stopped two steps away, to the bliss of his conscious mind.

"Hey," the waitress said as she bit back a sob. "Please. Just- come back. We'll…go get the cop or something…" Tears flowing again now, she dropped to her blood-streaked knees.

Red seems to be the popular colour, Anacin thought abstractly. But black can be just as bad.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, leading him backwards. Whirling about, fists unconsciously clenched and ready, he saw the man with the same expression on his face that perfectly captured 'confused idiot'. "Come on," he said firmly, dragging him back. Anacin unwillingly allowed himself to be dragged back to the street, eyes turning back to the body as he walked. It smells.

The waitress was still on her knees, mumbling under her breath. Eyes breaking free at last, Anacin sat down on the curb, resting his head on a knee. "This is brutal," he started. "Life…it's this…violent." he said carefully. They all remained silent. He decided not to continue.

They remained there for a moment. As if starting the flow of time again, the man said hoarsely, "Let's go inside. Find the cop." Anacin silently disagreed. Let's stay here. At least we know there's only one corpse. Fuck getting keys- we'll take the bus. Or she will, at least. I'll-

Against his will, Anacin felt somebody lifting him up by an arm. His knees stung as they unbent, as if unable to move for a long time. Oddly dizzy, he followed the other two slowly across the road. Painstakingly slow, they edged closer to the bloody door in a rough line. Reaching the sidewalk, Anacin spared a quick glance at the others. "Who- who opens?" he asked quietly.

Silence ensued. Flip for it? Anacin asked himself. Black and white? No, black and red today, There'll be no white at this funeral. "So…black and…white?" he mumbled.

Nobody responded immediately. Then, the waitress muttered, "Yeah. Someone's gotta win here." She stepped closer to him and held up a fist. Anacin did the same, glancing at the man with no memorable name. A second later, he too stepped closer.

"Which is black and which is white?" the man asked.

I told you, Anacin thought before saying, "It's all black and red today." The waitress laughed sharply at this. But isn't red supposed to be a good colour? In China, isn't it the colour of wedding dresses? And love. And life.

"Ready?" Anacin asked weakly.

As one they chanted, "Black and-"