Code Matriks
Episode 20: I Dream of Milkshakes
By B1ockh3d
Author's note: Hello! I'm happy to have been able to update after only a month this time. Luckily, I've been thinking about this chapter for quite some time so it was a quick write-up. I said in the last chapter that I had to regain my focus and figure out my narrative again. I do still know what I want to accomplish in a general sense, but filling in the gaps in-between is a bit harder. So I thought I might ask you guys: what do you want to see more of? Do you guys have any questions about the story that needs more focus or clarification and I'll try to include it in future chapters? It'd be a big help to see what people like and want more of.
Also, I'm gonna let you guys down now, it's probably gonna be a few months before I update again. My real full time job does a lot of overtime, and we're approaching a major deadline soon. But that's how things go in my industry!
But I digress. This was a fun chapter to write, I hope it's as much fun for you to read.
I'm doing fiiiiiine~
Up here, on cloud nine
Listen, one more time!
I'm doing fiiiiiine~
Up here, on cloud nine
Cooke jolted awake, limbs slamming into various shelves in the closet.
"Gah! What the-"
He looked around. He found himself crumpled up on the floor of the same closet he passed out in.
"Oh my god... Did they not find me?" He sunk his head back, looking up at the taped-up door, "I hope they evacuated."
What am I gonna do? I'm stuck here. Door is probably locked, and my feet are all-
His feet worked fine.
"What...?" Cooke pulled himself up on his feet, completely unscathed, "How..."
He immediately reached for the doorknob and shoved through the sealed door, opening wide up into a diner.
Black and white tiles in checkered placement adorn the ground, ribbed white plastic highlights separate the plain white walls from the red ceiling, all leading to a slick white bar with polished chrome chair rail along the entire length with round vinyl bar stools.
And an unfamiliar pale old man dressed in white with a white apron and soda jerk hat tending to it.
"Oh man what's going on..."
The old man looked up at him, "Ah, you're awake!"
"Uh... Yeah?"
He chuckled and started wiping down the bar, "I was wondering when you'd come around. You're a younger fella, but you must've taken a pretty good knock to the ol' noggin."
Cooke rubbed his head, "Yeah, something like that... I'm sorry, who are you? Are you death? Is this heaven? A 50s diner is not what I was expecting..."
"You can call me Henry! And this is even better than Heaven, it's my diner!"
"...But where is here?"
Henry moved to the side, revealing the sign "Henry's Diner" in a very formal script font.
"Not what I meant."
"Well now I don't know whatcha mean!"
"How did I get here?"
"You fell out of that there closet!"
Cooke grasped for air and stomped in a circle, "Henry..."
"Why dontcha come on down here and take a seat?"
Cooke reluctantly went up to the bar and sat on one of the vinyl bar stools.
Henry poured out a vanilla milkshake and slid it down the bar right into Cooke's hand.
"Was... That really necessary?"
"Now, I don't make the rules here."
"But it's your diner?"
"Well now, that's just the thing." Henry poked at Cooke's forehead, "You made it up!"
"...Huuuh?"
"You're dreamin' son!"
"Ahh... That makes... Huh..."
"Drink up." Henry picked up a rag and started wiping down a glass.
Cooke looked down on it. Even though he was holding it, it didn't feel cold. He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip, but tasted nothing.
"Well... It certainly has all the hallmarks of being a dream. You got a menu?"
"Sure thing!" Henry grabbed a menu from under the counter and handed it to Cooke.
Cooke snatched it from his hand and looked it over. It was definitely written in English, but he couldn't read it.
"Yep, definitely a dream." He looked over at the 50s style jukebox still playing Cloud Nine, "You'd think I'd at least put period-correct music in my dream, that song's from 1969."
"Ah, but you noticed it!" Henry went over and changed the song to Please Mr. Postman.
"...Ehh, '61. Motown was founded in '59, I guess I'll take what I can get."
"Ahh, The Marvelettes were a wonderful group-a gals. Should've seen 'em back in my heyday."
"Why didn't you see them?"
"Because you weren't born yet!"
"Right, right. My bad." Cooke chuckled and kicked back a bit, "So... What do I do here?"
Henry shrugged, "I guess try and wake up?"
"Oh, good idea. Should be pretty simple, I just gotta shut my eyes!" Cooke tried to shut his eyes. Instead he just squinted. No matter how hard he tried. "...Okay, that's never happened to me."
"You can't wake up?"
"Nah man, this is weird. I'm stuck dreaming."
"Ah ha!" Henry pointed up, "You must be in a coma!"
Cooke bit his cheek and nodded slowly, "I could see that... Ammonia gas can really mess up lungs, I must've been induced into comatose so the doctors can make sure my lungs get healed properly."
Henry smiled and pointed to his head, "Hey, the ol' noggin seems to be working just fine!"
"That's good... Yeah, that's good, good... No head trauma or brain damage."
"Want some food?"
"What do you have?"
"It's on the menu!"
"Oh, right it's- oooooh!" Cooke dejectedly tossed the menu across the bar top, "Jerk."
"Haha!" Henry teased and pulled out a tray of crinkle-cut fries and a saltshaker, "Here ya go!"
Cooke reached over to a condiment caddy and grabbed the ketchup, "...The heck am I doing? I can't taste it."
"Imagine you can!"
Cooke rolled his eyes, "You're a funny guy, Henry."
"Hey, I try your hardest!"
Cooke shook his head with a slight chuckle, "...Where are you from, anyway?"
"What do you mean? You created me."
"Well, that may be, but I don't recognize you. I thought the human mind can't imagine new faces, it's like trying to imagine a new color."
Henry shrugged, "You ask the hard questions, but only you can answer them. Perhaps I'm some guy you passed in a store as a kid? Who knows!"
"Can you at least make up a backstory?"
"That's up to you!"
"Okay... You always dreamed of being a sailboat captain when you were younger."
"Aye! That sounds good!"
"You always loved freshwater fishing with your father- oo! Fathers! Who adopted you!"
"Yeah, I've always dreaded Father's Day."
"Alright, alright, they both passed away in non-tragic backstory-like ways."
"I mean, look at how old I am."
"You had to give up your sailboat dreams when you were drafted for World War II."
"That's right. Semper rah or whatever!"
"And when you came back, you opted to open this diner which you still run to this day because you love it so much."
He smiled, and looked down at the glass he was cleaning, "Yeah, that's sounds like one heck of a life I had."
"And to this day... You just wanna go back fishing."
Henry laughed, then reached under the counter and pulled out a bait and tackle box and fishing rod, "How did you know?"
"...How much stuff do you have under the counter?"
"As much as I need. It's magical."
"Huh." Cooke drummed his fingers on the counter, "...So, now what?"
Henry shrugged exaggeratedly.
"Well we gotta do something before the readers get bored!"
"Well, why not leave the diner? You got a whole city out there!"
"Wait, I can leave the diner?"
"It ain't like I locked the doors."
"Oh." Cooke got up from his bar stool and bolted to the door.
"Hey! Don't forget! You got a bus to catch!"
Cooke pushed the door open, "...I do?"
"Yeah. The 21. The stop is one block over."
"Okay, back up, the bus thing is new. Why do I need to catch it?"
"There's one more coming and it goes out to the suburbs."
"...That doesn't help. When does it get here?"
Henry smiled, "When the time is right."
Cooke shot Henry a confused face and walked out the door.
All around this nondescript village was a whole lot of boarded up homes and windows. The only thing open was Henry's diner.
"Yeah... It ain't like I locked the doors." Cooke slumped forward, "Wait... One block which way?
He looked down each street and saw nothing, so he picked a road and walked aimlessly down the block. The surrounding area didn't seem familiar, nor did it seem occupied. It was completely deserted. Rundown buildings, overgrown with weeds and graffiti. Stark in comparison to Henry's diner.
"Where on earth am I?"
He finally found the bus stop, consisting of nothing more than a rotting wood bench and a sun-bleached sign indicating bus 21 stopped there. He sat down on the bench and stared down the street.
"...Hm. It'll arrive when the time is right." He craned his neck to look down the other side of the street, "Did I miss it? Am I on the wrong side of the street?"
He pivoted his head back down the other side, now seeing three people crossing the street towards him.
The three were dressed identically, with leather jackets, white shirts, jeans, and black leather boots. One looked like the archer ninja, another looked like Tyron, and the last was just a XANA symbol floating where the head belonged.
"Oh what the...?"
"Hey Cooke," Tyron chuckled, pointing at Cooke's feet, "Your shoes are untied!"
Cooke looked down, and got his forehead swatted by the ninja.
"Haha! You Americans are so erreur de traduction!" Tyron slapped his knee.
Cooke just stared up at the trio in awe, "...Why did I imagine you three as greasers?"
"We do not make the rules!" Tyron looked over at the ninja and nodded, "Just enforce them!"
The ninja pulled out its bow and struck Cooke across the face.
Cooke fell off the bench, then scrambled to his feet and assumed a fighting stance, "Are you guys serious right now? I'm here to catch a bus!"
"Ohhh you are going to need an ambulance when they finish with you!" Tyron hyped as he rubbed XANA's shoulders.
"That's not something I ever thought I'd see."
XANA shrugged off Tyron's hands, and motioned for the two to back up, and the followed suit. It raised their hands and electrified them.
"Oh come on-"
XANA launched a super-fast right hook for Cooke's jaw, effectively knocking him out.
"AHG!" Cooke surged, finding himself sitting on the barstool in Henry's diner rubbing his jaw, "Ow..."
"You okay, son?" Henry popped out of the back.
"I'll survive... What of earth was that?"
"Oh, the three men in leather jackets?"
"Yeah..."
"The locals. Since there's no one around, they've claimed the area as their own."
Cooke looked dumbfounded, "How did I get back here?"
Henry shrugged, "Must've reloaded at your last checkpoint."
Cooke laughed, "Alright that... That was good."
Cooke swiveled around to look at the door and windows, seeing no one there.
"...Why haven't they come here?"
"I don't know. They walk by all the time."
"Why are they fighting for no man's land?"
"Hey, it's your imagination."
Cooke leaned back against the bar top and began to think, "...They must be the key to leaving."
"That sounds like a great idea! What's your plan?"
"...Got a baseball bat in that magic counter?"
Henry smirked and pulled a long wood bat from under the counter, "You know it."
Cooke swiped the bat from Henry, "Alright, time to go put some thoughts at ease."
Cooke triumphantly strutted out the door and walked right into another right hook XANA had winded up on the other side of the door.
"Uhhhhhnnng..." Cooke moped with his head resting on the bar top.
"Aw cheer up son!" Henry encouraged, "It was a cheap shot. Blind corner."
Cooke looked up, revealing his new black eye, "Blind, you say?"
"Hey, you can win this!"
They both looked outside, now seeing the trio pacing the sidewalk with XANA holding the baseball bat.
"Probably!"
Cooke sunk his head back down, "I can't outsmart myself. I'll see it coming."
"Well now, if that were true you would've seen that right hook coming! You just need to think outside of the box!" Henry pulled out a pad of paper and pen from under the counter, "They're still limited to their regular abilities, right?"
"I don't know anymore! XANA doesn't typically pack a Louisville Slugger!"
"Bah!" Henry waved off, "Any ol' person can grab a blunt object and call it a weapon. If anything, they're now even more predictable."
"Alright, I'm open to suggestions."
"Water should still fry XANA, right?" Henry began writing down a list, "Also electro-magnetic interference devices."
"Why are you writing a list? I won't be able to read it."
"That may be, but it will keep your thoughts in checks.
"...Okay, whatever. Add rubber, for insulation."
Henry scribbled it down, "You've got 'cherself three ideas. Where should we start?"
"Well... You said think outside the box, right?"
"That's right."
"Those are all predictable. Got a shotgun?"
Henry raised his eyebrows, then nodded slowly, "Yeah... Yeah..."
He reached under the counter and pulled out a black 12-gauge double-barrel shotgun.
Cooke swiped it from him, "Now, let's go bury some thoughts."
Cooke approached the window, catching the attention of a very shocked Tyron.
"Say hello to my little-" Cooke fired two shots, but they just stopped and fell when they hit the glass, "-oh come ON!"
Tyron fell on the ground, laughing heartily, "Typical American! When you do not get your way, you pull out a gun! Hahaha! Erreur de traduction!"
Cooke shook his head slowly, "I hate that smarmy bastard. Why does he even speak French? Shouldn't he be speaking German?"
"Maybe I do but you do not know so you cannot dream it!" Tyron stuck his tongue out.
Cooke turned back to Henry, "Why can't I shoot through the glass?"
He pointed to his head, "Think outside the box!"
Cooke sat back and looked around, realizing just how barren his place was. There weren't any tables, chairs, or even booths. It pretty much was a box with a bar in it.
"Well... I'm not going out there for another black eye. Got roof access?"
Henry pointed down a hallway to his right behind the bar, "Down the hall, and take four lefts."
"Down the hall and four lefts. Got it." Cooke hopped over the counter and began booking it down the hallway before halting, "...Four lefts?"
"Yeah."
Cooke rolled his eyes and pushed forward. He turned left down an impossibly placed hallway, a left into an unnecessary locker room, left into a supply closet, and then finally reached a ladder on the left side of the closet.
"My mind is apparently a funhouse..." murmured Cooke as he slung the shotgun over his shoulder and climbed up.
He passed an oddly placed fire hose and finally exited through a door to the roof. He walked over to the street side edge and peered over, looking down on the trio pacing in front of the building.
"Like shooting fish in a barrel." Cooke grinned, aiming down on their heads, "Sup boys!"
Tyron looked up, and danced around, "Hit me with your best shot!"
Cooke took careful aim and pulled the trigger.
Nothing fired.
He pulled the trigger again.
Still, nothing fired.
"Okay, what the..." Cooke pulled back the shotgun and opened it up, with two empty casings flying out, "Oh my god I..."
"You forgot to reload it you idiot!" Tyron mocked.
Cooke rolled his eyes and ran over to the oddly placed fire hose. He pulled the hose from its container and turned on the water.
"Let's see how you like water..." Cooke marched back over to the edge of the building and pulled the hose over the ledge, "Y'all need to cool off!"
Cooke unfurled the hose's full power-
FWOOOSH!
-spewing out fire at a great distance. Panicking, he shut the blistering hose off.
The trio below booked it down the street.
"What the... Henry!"
"Yes?" Henry responded, now leaning against the doorway to the roof.
"Why is this water hose spewing fire?"
"I mean... It's clearly labeled fire hose."
Cooke carefully set the warm hose down and sat against the ledge, "Unbelievable..."
"Hey, they left. Let's regroup and figure out what to do next."
"Y'know, I really hope whatever monitors I'm hooked up to aren't freaking the doctors out." Cooke spun around on the stool, "My heart rate and adrenaline must be going bananas. Brain activity for sure."
"Perhaps. But that means they know you're bound to wake up soon." Henry slid another vanilla milkshake down the bar top.
Cooke caught the milkshake, and slid it back, "I need a plan. Clearly I have no orthodox tools I can use."
Henry pulled out an air hockey paddle and knocked the milkshake back towards Cooke, "It's like I said, you gotta think outside the box."
Cooke scrambled across the bar top and grabbed another air hockey paddle and hit the milkshake back towards Henry, "Do you got anymore ammo for the shotgun?"
Henry knocked it back, "Nah."
Cooke stopped the milkshake, "What do you mean nah?! What about your magic under-counter?"
"Hey, it doesn't have any more guns or ammo. I don't question it."
Cooke knocked the milkshake back into play, "So that whole segment was a waste of valuable readers' time."
"Now that's just not true!" Henry stopped the milkshake and tossed it in the back, making a large crashing sound followed by a sharp sound of a cat screech, "You know they're scared of fire!"
"And what good is that? You got some sorta flamethrower?"
Henry smiled, and pulled out a flamethrower from under the counter, "Sure do."
"But... I thought you said guns-"
"It ain't a gun. Well, technically."
Cooke yanked the flamethrower over and marched to the door, "Screw it, let's try it out!"
Henry carefully patted Cooke's cheek with a washcloth, "Okay, that was my bad."
Cooke, glaring at him through the soot covering his face, cocked his head to the side, "Ya think?!"
"I can't say I expected the archer fella to shoot the fuel tank and blow the whole thing."
"Yeah, but I could. Wouldn't be the first time!" Cooke rolled his eyes, "On a positive note, at least they don't also have a flamethrower now."
"Hey, that's something!" Henry took one nice big wipe across Cooke's face, "There, much better."
Cooke dropped his face into his hands, "Okay, how do I get out of here? This is getting kinda nuts."
"I mean... You could just wait here. Not like you'll be asleep forever. Heck, you probably ain't too far away from waking up anyhow."
"But that's boring. Nobody wants to read the story where I sit on my arse and drink milkshakes I can't taste."
"Ain't that what it's been thus far?"
"I suppose we could do a time lapse implying we tried many things and still failed and skip to the end."
"Well now that'd just be lazy."
"Hah! Lazy would be writing 3000 words and getting nowhere- hey that's where we are!"
Henry sighed, and reached under the counter, "I got one more trick up my sleeve."
"I find that hard to believe but go on."
Henry pulled out a frilly pink donkey piñata, "They got a bat, right?"
Cooke stared incredulously at the pink cardboard pony, "I don't like where this is going."
"Bah! It's full of candy!" Henry shook the piñata, making a rattling sound, "Genuine."
"Okay, what's the plan?"
"Invite them in!" Henry reached under the counter and pulled out rope and some blindfolds, "Let's have a party!"
"...Is this supposed to be some sort of "make friends not enemies" kind of dealio? Because that's kinda lame."
"You'll see."
"Ey! Eyoooo!" Cooke shouted from the rooftop, "C'mon out!"
XANA and the gang mysteriously appeared, walking towards the diner from each direction.
"There y'all are!" Cooke waved.
"What is it now, Cooke?" Tyron spat.
"Why dontcha come on in huh?" Cooke directed to the door.
The trio looked at each other, then Tyron looked back up, "Hah! We will not fall for any of your "Home Alone" tricks!"
"But we have a piñata!" Cooke pointed towards the window, depicting Henry hanging up the piñata with streamers hanging from the ceiling and cake on the bar top.
"...What are you doing?" Tyron narrowed down his eyes.
"What? We can beat each other up all we want but not a cardboard donkey?"
"That is the idea, yes!"
"C'mooooon, don't be lame!" Cooke lamely lamed, "It's full of candy!"
The ninja dropped their bow and pointed to the door. Tyron shook his head.
"No! You do not even have a mouth!" Tyron lectured, gesturing towards XANA.
XANA just shrugged, pointing to their bat.
"You cannot seriously be on board with his plan."
"Yeah! XANA! I always knew deep down you wanted to have fun!" Cooke egged on, "Seems like you're the only lame duck of the bunch Tyron!"
Tyron glared upwards, "Do not think I will fall for your trickery!"
XANA and the ninja pushed the door open and walked inside, leaving Tyron all alone.
"I mean, suit yourself out here man. Imma go have fun and make new friends." Cooke left the ledge and headed down the stairs, joining XANA and the ninja in the diner.
"...I do not like this." Tyron trudged inside.
"So, um, how do I..." Cooke struggled to figure out how to put the blindfold on XANA's floating symbol-head-thing, "Can you put it on yourself?"
XANA nodded and applied the blindfold across the center of the symbol.
"What kind of candy is in it?" Tyron questioned.
Cooke exaggeratedly shrugged, "I guess you'll have to crack it open to find out!"
Tyron rolled his eyes and handed the bat to XANA.
"Now, everybody gets one hit." Cooke ruled, "We gotta make it last."
"Fine, get on with it!" Tyron barked.
XANA stepped up with the bat, taking a swing through the air. Henry was quick enough to up the string so they would miss it.
"Oh you have got to be kidding me!" Tyron complained, "We already cannot see it!"
"Have you never had a piñata at your birthday?" Cooke cocked.
"No! I am from Switzerland!"
"This is part of the fun!"
XANA was able to nab a solid hit on the donkey, then let their bat down and took off the blindfold.
"Okay... Ninja goes next!" Cooke pridefully took the blindfold and handed it to the ninja, "Uhh... Yeah, I don't know where your eyes are either."
The ninja took the blindfold and applied it roughly where normal human eyes are, then took the bat from XANA.
"Okay, it's right in front of you, swing whenever!"
The ninja took a swing, but also missed due to Henry's quick arms.
"...This is a big waste of time." Tyron sighed, "Why are we wasting time hitting a donkey?"
"You only say that because you haven't tried it before." Henry chimed in, allowing himself to get distracted and letting the ninja get a hit in, "Ah! Aw..."
"Tyron's turn!" Cooke snatched the blindfold off the ninja and started wrapping it around Tyron's face, "You'll see!"
"No! I will not see!" Tyron shoved Cooke off him, and loosened the blindfold slightly, "Now, where is the bat?"
Cooke guided Tyron to the piñata and took the bat from the ninja, "Here, it's right in front of you."
Tyron took the bat from Cooke and immediately started swinging wildly, causing Cooke to dive for cover.
"Hey! Relax a little, man!" Cooke peered over the table.
"Why is this thing so hard to hit?!" Tyron flailed about, grazing the foot of the donkey, "Ah! Got it!"
"Having fun now?"
"Not really." Tyron handed the blindfold back to Cooke, who then handed it to XANA, "Oh? You're not playing?"
"Of course not, I'm hosting. I'm here to make sure you have a good time!" Cooke slyly promised.
XANA wrapped their eye up and took another swing, nailing it on the first try. As per procedure, he took off the blindfold and handed it to the ninja.
"Oh my gooood if I have to suffer through another line of you describing how we all put the blindfold on and off I will just tear that thing in half!" Tyron ranted.
"Well..." Cooke held up two more blindfolds, "If you're all wearing one, we just have to pass the bat around."
"Why not just let us make more than one hit?"
"Oh-ho, you're having fun aren't you? Getting a little antsy?"
"Getting a little bored!"
"Heh, alright." Cooke nodded, "I agree with a little rule change. Here, you three put on blindfolds and take... Three hits each."
"Finally." Tyron and XANA took the blindfolds and applied them.
Now, the trio was blindfolded.
"Okay, ninja, you're up." Cooke directed.
The ninja stepped up and took some swings, while the piñata flailed wildly about thanks to Henry's expert rope-yanking skills.
"C'mon! I've seen cowboys with better sword skills than you!" Cooke quipped.
The ninja did manage to nail the donkey 3 times, but no bust. He handed the bat over to Tyron, who now was putting on a slightly slower show of flail n' fail.
"Aw, did you forget your vitamins again?"
"Shut it, Cooke!" Tyron flailed himself 3 hits, but no bust, "Hah!"
XANA took the bat and began swinging at supernatural strength, only to miss to the swiftness that is Henry.
"Oh, you gotta be quicker than that!" Henry ribbed XANA, easing up on the rope and letting him have 3 easy hits.
"Ninja!" Cooke called out, with a slightly faded tone.
The ninja stepped up, making 3 directs hits to the piñata.
POP!
The piñata had split open, dumping its contents all over the floor.
The trio ripped off their blindfolds and dove onto the floor full of candy.
"Wow! That was quite fun!" Tyron grinned, while stuffing his leather jacket full of candy, "You were right Cooke!"
No response.
"Cooke? Henry?" Tyron looked around the restaurant, confused, "Guys!"
XANA and the ninja stopped, springing to their feet.
Tyron walked up to the front door, and shook the handle, "The door is locked! Where could they have gone?!"
Henry pinned a chair under the handle of the backdoor to his Diner, "Worked like a charm!"
Cooke let out his breath as he leaned up against the wall, "Okay... Now what? We got them trapped."
"Well, we set up our emergency system outside just in case something bad happens inside!"
Cooke panned his head towards Henry, "Huh? The emergency system?"
"Y'know, like sprinklers!"
"What good is that? Are we just gonna dilute them like wicked witches?"
"Ahem..." Henry cocked his head to his other shoulder, pointing to the label on the sprinkler switch.
FIRE SPRINKLERS
"...No. Don't- no!" Cooke covered his mouth, "You can't be serious!"
Henry grinned as he pulled the switch, and thick black smoke began to billow out from the weathered vents on the sides of the building.
"Who even sets that up?!"
"AHHHHHHH!" Tyron's bloodcurdling scream broke past the walls of the building.
"That's... Rather dark." Cooke turned away, "Are we the bad guys?"
Henry wrapped his arm around Cooke, and began walking him down the alley, "Hey, when you think about it, that was kind of thinking inside the box!"
Cooke looked back, seeing the diner begin to cave into the flames, "Oh man, your Diner!"
"Bah! Don't worry about it!"
"But didn't I make that special to you?"
"If you don't remember, probably not."
As they began walking down the street, the surrounding homes slowly regained life. Graffiti fading away, boards in windows disappearing, lawns turning green, cars appearing in driveways.
Cooke took one more look back at the diner, which was now gone with no trace. Just an empty lot, with no more purpose.
"...Huh. What just happened..."
"The world is right! Thanks to you, this community will thrive once again."
"But... You beat them. You came up with the plan to destroy them and executed it."
Henry smirked, "I learned from you. You couldn't fight them head on, you kept failing. It wasn't until you fought on familiar grounds and sacrificed the field did the battle turn. Battles aren't fought with swords or guns, they're fought with brains."
"...Huh." Cooke looked down at the ground.
"Now, hurry! You have a bus to catch!" Henry tugged Cooke along.
The duo arrived at a now much more respectable bus stop, with a clean intact bench and a bright friendly sign indicating that bus 21 stopped there.
"When will it get here?" Cooke bemoaned as he sat on the bench.
"When it does!" Henry stretched and sat next to Cooke.
"…Are you coming too?"
"I'm with you as long as you remember me!"
A familiar whir of a diesel engine approaching from afar could be heard, and slowly cars began to appear on the road.
"Killing those three really did cause all this to happen?"
"I think "killing" might be of a bit harsh term-"
"People just got burned alive in a K+ story, Henry."
"Okay, fair, but they were bad people."
"And that makes me better?" Cooke stared incredulously at Henry, "I'm never gonna let go of this."
"Lessons are not always easy to learn." Henry shrugged, pointing down the street, "There! Your chariot approaches!"
A bus labeled "EPISODE 21" pulled through the intersection, stopping in front of the bus stop with a satisfying PSHEEW of the hydraulics lowering the bus.
"Well, I guess this is goodbye Henry." Cooke stuck out his hand.
Henry took Cooke's hand and boisterously shook it, "Seeya around son!"
The doors to the bus opened, revealing Shelda behind the wheel of the bus, "Bus 21 to the next episode."
Cooke stepped aboard and began walking to the seats when he was stopped by Shelda, "Hey- what gives?"
She pointed to the sign posted above a bus toll machine reading $3.19 for a one-way trip, "Exact change only."
Cooke dug into his pockets – all of them – with no luck, "...Uh...Heh heh..."
I'm doing fiiiiiine~
Up here, on cloud nine
Listen, one more time!
I'm doing fiiiiiine~
Up here, on cloud nine
Cooke slowly awakened, breathing very carefully, completely motionless, as his eyes crept open.
White walls. Curtain. Bed was slightly inclined with rails on both sides. Clothes were made of paper.
"Hospital." Cooke whispered, "I'm in... Hospital."
Cooke opened his eyes some more, seeing some flowers sitting on a table in front of him, a bin full of envelopes, and a speaker he recognized fixing a few years prior blasting Motown hits.
Cooke smiled, "Markus was here..."
Alright. Body calibration time.
Cooke rocked his head around, shoulders, elbows, arms, wrists, and fingers.
"So far... So good..."
Spine, hips, knees, ankles-
"Ohh...?"
His left foot was in a cast.
"Ohh..."
But everything else looked fine. His right leg was still a little sore, but at least it wasn't dislocated anymore.
Cooke rolled his head around, searching for something. He started to lightly feel his surroundings.
"Where is that little dickens..."
He finally felt a coiled cable and tugged on it until he got to the remote attached to it. He pressed a red plus button on it to call the nurse.
"...Hello?" A voice called from the hallway,
Cooke mustered up as much air as he could, "Yes!"
A male nurse hurried in, then stopped at the foot of Cooke's bed and cocked his leg back, "Ah, you're awake?"
"Mmm..."
"How are you feeling?"
"Mmm..."
"Can you talk?"
"Mmmaybe."
"Good enough." The nurse picked up a clipboard hanging off Cooke's bed, "Now, I'm going to ask you a series of questions to test your cognitive skills, okay?"
"Mmm..."
"We can do this later or stop at any time if you still aren't feeling well. But it's better to do this sooner so we can get a current status on your cognitive functions."
"Mmm... That whole... Explanation... Could be a test..."
The nurse chuckled, "Very true. So, do you understand that?"
"Mmm... Let's do this."
"Do you know where you are?"
"Hospital."
"What's your name?"
"Christina Cooke. But... Just call me Cooke."
"What school do you attend?"
"Washington DC State..."
"What day of the week is it?"
"Mmmonday?"
"What state are you in?"
"Confusion."
The nurse laughed, "You're gonna be just fine. I will let the doctor know you're awake. Is there anything I can get you to feel more comfortable?"
Cooke paused, and stared out into space, "...Mmmilkshake?"