Munich, Germany. A city famous for its Baroque architecture, beer gardens, and festivals. Tourists come from all over the world to visit its many landmarks. In particular, Asamkirche. A church built over 200 years ago by the Asam brothers. The stunning architecture and captivating frescoes serve as inspiration, transcending the very definition of superlative.
Just as there are those with a need to satisfy an itch in their eye of fine art and exquisite ornamentation, there are also those that seek a place to take a shot at something new. Something delectable.
In the Haidhausen district of Munich, there was a small cafe owned and ran by an eccentric baker by the name of Alfred Bauer. Many of the locals always thought him to be a particularly unusual individual, always talking to himself, especially while working the register. To whom he'd be talking to, no one knew. Many didn't bother to worry about it. They all had their hearts set on his pastries.
Not only were they German cakes and tarts specifically, but they always seemed to possess an indescribable taste. The strawberries were more succulent than the ones in other shops. The syrup was hardly runny. Not too sweet, not too bland. Bauer's bread was never burnt or doughy, but the right consistency between soft and moist.
Many locals, regulars, and even a few tourists, have inquired about his recipes and how he made his cakes taste so different. There wasn't really an answer Bauer was willing to give them. Only that it was a secret. A secret so dark - so diabolical - even the devil himself would retch in disgust if he knew what it was.
There were odd cases in Munich of people going missing specifically in his area. Much to everyone's bewilderment, no one ever thought to question him for the disappearances of both young and old people alike. Who would think to question a stalky baker that never left his establishment? Bauer claimed he knew absolutely nothing, and people would keep taking his word at face value. But for how long?
The bell above the door rang as a young boy sauntered in to gawk through the glass at the assortment of desserts. His grandmother was a regular there and this would be his first time going in to eat with her. A heavy German accent came from over the countertop above the display, startling him.
"Can I interest you in something, little boy?" Bauer asked. The look in his eye was a mix between friendly and untrusting. That aura faintly grazed his senses, making him unsure that he wanted anything at all.
"Umm, I-"
"Ulrich!" an older, widowed woman called out. Stepping into the cafe, she had an arm bent with a blue purse hanging near the elbow. Her enlarged nose and tiny, squinty eyes stole Bauer's gaze from the small child. "I told you to wait up for me," she scolded. "you could have been kidnapped!"
"Sorry, Oma."
Bauer's smile perked. "Guten Tag, Frau Witzke! What can I get for you?"
The woman smiled briefly, pulling Ulrich away from the display. "Erdbeertorte. What do you want?" she directed the question to Ulrich with a snappy tone. "Go on, tell him. Stop wasting his time."
It was most unnerving the way he felt his decision would be wrong no matter what he chose. This was a cafe. Did it really matter what he ate? The little boy twiddled his thumbs and stumbled on his choices as he looked through the glass in front of him.
"Umm..."
"Kapfen?" Bauer suggested, gesturing to a small hole-less donut with chocolate icing.
Before he could answer, the grandmother took it upon herself to settle on Bauer's suggestion. She slapped the money on the counter. "It doesn't matter, he'll eat anything with sugar."
After getting their food, Ulrich and his grandmother sat at a small table. She crammed every bite of strawberry into her mouth, the oozing red syrup dribbling down her chin as she chewed. Ulrich caught sight of Bauer staring them down as he went to take the first bite. Noticing him made him wary of eating at all. He pushed his plate away with a curled lip.
With his eyes still fixed to the two regulars, Bauer sighed in ecstasy as he watched blood drip from the woman's mouth and onto her plate. She'd cut a large piece of her strawberry tart, causing the blood to spill from the soft, sponge-like bread.
After wiping her face with a napkin, she gasped at it. It wasn't blood that she saw, but strawberry jam. "Oh, I'm such a messy eater, I didn't realize. Eat your kapfen, Ulrich. Go on, you shouldn't waste it."
"That's okay," he said, looking out the window, "I'll eat it later."
"Suit yourself." Again, she crammed another bloody morsel into her mouth. "Oh! I could eat these everyday!"
Bauer's close-mouthed laughter resonated in his nose as he leaned onto the counter. "Careful, Frau Witzke," he warned, "you just might become a strawberry tart."
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She'd left the remaining crumbs in a bloody puddle on her plate after she and Ulrich had gone. Closing time. Not a soul lingered around the cafe. Bauer turned off every light in the cafe save for one above the display. His shoes clacked across the floor as he made his way back over to the register.
"Another satisfied customer."
Leaning over the glass, he pressed his cheek against it looking longingly through the display. He stroked it with the knuckle of his index finger as if he were caressing the love of his life.
"They were such rude people. Too bad they couldn't express their complaints without acting like entitled brats. In Haidhausen, I am the bringer of justice. Don't worry, my darlings. Being eaten isn't as painful as it looks."
Cakes, that no longer had the physique of a human being, heard every word. If the cakes could utter a sound at all, it would be a cacophony of people's wailing voices screaming behind the glass. Begging for him to change them back. Begging him to let them see their families. Begging. Pleading. Unable to do anything but dread their inevitable and agonizing deaths.
Fading in from nowhere over his shoulder was a white face. Red, drawn and quartered lips formed a triangular gap where a cupid's bow should have been. Silver hooks pulled back upper and lower lids away from bulging, ebony eyes that reflected nothing under the lights of the cafe. The red frosting embellishing its clown collar was likened to a cake in appearance, though its white fingertips were like olives on spikes.
Bauer's cackle resonated throughout the cafe, laughing at their agony - at their unheard pleas for freedom. The corner of his smirk could be seen over his shoulder as he turned his gaze to his stand.
"Mordred will praise our efforts yet, my Mephistopheles. Just you wait."
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Her eyes were full of wonder, like a curious child stumbling upon a door to a fantasy world. In her excitement, Eva ran up to Merlin, taking him by surprise as she made him stumble. Amazing! she motioned, running away from him to take in the sights.
"Perhaps I should have stayed in the tortoise." he said, before sitting and resting his weary bones. Stepping out of Mr. President for fresh air had its cons. And he wasn't the only one that was beginning to feel they were being dragged along on Eva's little tour. Gaelstrom's body slumped down against a wall. Polnareff was between him and Merlin. He set his father's cane down as he tried to catch his breath from all his constant staggering after her.
"Where does she get so much energy!?"
Gaelstrom groaned. "I don't know but she's being damn stingy with it."
Simultaneously, the three men breathed in deeply and let out a sigh of exhaustion. A flock of pigeons flew away in droves as she plowed through them, her laughter carrying over the breeze. Child-like innocence was plastered all over her face. Her loud laughter didn't bother Gaelstrom or Polnareff, though the same couldn't be said for the other passerby sneering as they walked by.
Seeing how much it meant to her to be able to experience the world outside of the valley made Polnareff feel good inside for bringing her with them. If she was going to experience anything, he'd see to it that the good would far outweigh the bad.
Merlin yawned. "I'll be in your tortoise if you need me." With that, he slipped into the key and made his way over to one of the couches.
Polnareff felt that it must have been nice to be able to take a nap whenever he wanted. Then again, he'd been sleeping more than usual. Another side-effect, no doubt. You know what they say about yawns being contagious...Merlin had passed his yawn on to him and Gaelstrom, who placed a hand over his gurgling stomach.
"Is it just me, or am I getting hungry? You hungry?"
"Not really," Polnareff replied, "then again, I haven't eaten anything in the past six hours."
"Ha. More like twenty-six."
He ignored that last remark. Maybe he wasn't hungry, but Gaelstrom was and he knew Eva had to be, too. The four decided it was best to hunt a place to grab something quick to eat before they could make their departure from Munich. Out of all the restaurants they'd found, there was always some reason why they couldn't dine in.
Either Gaelstrom would find something unappealing, or nobody agreed to Polnareff's suggestions. Or Vice versa. But money wasn't an issue. Merlin had plenty of money saved up over the centuries; the expenses were of little concern to him so long as their needs were met. In particular, Eva's needs. And what she needed was something to sate her appetite.
As Polnareff and Gaelstrom stood around negotiating prices and where to eat, Eva wandered away from them. Her palms were pressed against the glass as she peered into the window of a cafe. The bizarre cafe on the southside, no less. She sauntered back over to Polnareff motioning with her hands to him and Gaelstrom.
With one palm up-facing, she curved her fingers and thumb of her dominant hand and placed her fingertips over her palm. The dominant hand rised up off of it, signing cake.
"What's she saying?" Gaelstrom asked.
"I don't know, ask Merl-"
Gaelstrom's teeth were bared, the look on his face screaming yikes. He shot over and threw a hand over his mouth. "Don't use his real name!" he hissed.
Polnareff shoved Gaelstrom off of him. "Eugh! Keep your clammy hands off of my face!"
"I can't help it if I've had my hands in my pockets, just stop blurting out Mer- I mean...! Mr. Ambrose's name."
"Aha! Now who's blurting his name out loud. Seriously, though. You need to wash your hands."
Gaelstrom smiled impishly, poking his index finger at his nose. "I'm not touching you."
Polnareff furrowed his brows. "Yes, you are...stop that!"
"I'm not touching youuuu..." Gaelstrom pestered.
"You know I'm not a ghost anymore, right?"
"Yeah. So?"
"There is nothing stopping me from decking you out."
"Oooh, so touchy."
A light tap on his arm eased Polnareff's tension. It was Eva, and she was signing cake to him again. When he acted as if her gesture only confused him more, Merlin's head poked out from the key. He let out a sigh and spoke about her as if he already knew what was running through her head.
"She wants cake."
"Cake?"
"Yes, and nothing in this world can deter her from getting any. She's been this way since she was a child, mind you."
Gaelstrom crossed his arms. "Well, not me. I prefer to sink my teeth into a rare steak right about now."
Polnareff ignored Gaelstrom's outburst. "I'll get it for her."
"Ha! With what? Your looks? You haven't had any money on you in the past five years!"
Before he could come back with a retort to Gaelstrom's comment, Merlin interrupted. "That's alright, I have more than enough. If it's money you boys are worried about, I'll gladly give you some."
"Now that's an offer I can't refuse." Gaelstrom said.
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Bauer watched as the three made their way into the cafe. With a tortoise? That was odd. Coco Jumbo was placed on the table, resting closest to the window while Gaelstrom goofed around. If getting a rise out of Polnareff were a sport, he'd win the gold medal at the Olympics for sure.
Bauer studied them - scrutinized them. That tortoise had a strange aura, as did the rest of them. It became evident not too long ago that only stand users could see the blood pouring from their desserts. One such customer faced the same fate as the others. No one would ever suspect him, and no stand user would dare put an end to Bauer's vile antics. He'd see to that one way or another.
While he stressed of what to do about them, his Nokia flip phone vibrated in the pocket of his apron. His heart jumped, knowing full well who it was. There was a text message, short and simple.
TONIGHT.
Bauer's blood ran cold. "Tonight?" His perspiring, trembling hands pressed the buttons.
what would ser mordred like?
INNOCENCE. YOU KNOW WHAT HE MEANS.
"But...! I don't like to use my stand on children! Oh, no...oh, no...what am I to do? How will I find something as innocent as a child? Oh, well. Ser Mordred will probably go ahead and kill me anyway. I can already see him placing down a half-empty cup of water."
He masked his fear and proceeded over to Gaelstrom and Polnareff's table to take their order.
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There it was, leaning at a twelve degree angle in a pile of salt. Gaelstrom's dorkiest accomplishment that he found so amusing time and time again. A salt shaker. Eva's eyes went wide with awe.
I've never tried that before.
The corner of Polnareff's mouth quirked and he bumped the bottom of the table with his knee, making the salt shaker fall over with a clink.
"Whoops, clumsy me." he said with a smirk.
Gaelstrom's brow furrowed. "Arsehole! You did that on purpose!"
"Who, me? Never would I ever. What makes you think that?"
"Never would I ever..." Gaelstrom mumbled to himself, among other things. "...thinks he's some kind of saint..."
"Guten Tag!" came an enthusiastic voice. Standing by their table, stood Bauer with an insincere grin on his chubby face. "What may I interest you fine people in this afternoon?"
"Steak, rarest you got," Gaelstrom said, "I want it cut clean off Ole Bessy and brought to me on a platter."
Bauer scratched the side of his face with his pen. "Uh, sorry, we don't serve steak at this establishment."
Polnareff's palm graced his brow as he leaned onto the table, embarrassed to be seated in front of that dense moron. After explaining to him what he could and couldn't order, Gaelstrom and Polnareff had finally made their choices. They even remembered to order Eva's cake. While they spent time waiting for their food, Gaelstrom must have grown bored of playing with the salt shaker. Because it wasn't long before he decided he'd try to annoy Polnareff again. This time with some jokes he learned back in Ireland.
"Hey, Jean."
"What?" he asked.
"A man just opened a new restaurant on the moon. The cheese is great, but the atmosphere is terrible."
Polnareff snorted. "What?"
"Who built King Arthur's round table?"
"I don't know, who?"
"Ser Cumference."
"I believe I told you that one." Polnareff reminded him. "Remember? Summer of '75?"
"Oh. Well, how about this one? What did the dad buffalo say to the baby buffalo before leaving for work?"
"Have a good day?"
"Bison."
Bye, son...that was the least he got from his father. The other jokes were pretty good, the last one served as a painful reminder of Jean-Luc breaking his and Sherry's heart. Polnareff's smile fell away and he looked out the window in an attempt to focus his thoughts on something else. When Gaelstrom realized it may not have been the best choice from his repertoire, he returned to balancing the salt shaker on the table. Awkward.
"I'll be right back." Polnareff told him.
"Huh? Where ya going?"
"I need to use the bathroom."
While he was away, Bauer brought over their food and bid them a happy dining experience. Eva took a fork and started smearing the icing on the cake, not for any real reason other than she just wanted to. The fork penetrated the spongey bread. It looked delicious, but something was off. She pulled it out, seeing blood covering the prongs and oozing from the puncture holes as if she'd stabbed someone.
What the hell is this!?