Night 51: Ethan, Columbian Hotdog
The Late Night Diner is a part of Rhodes Island's canteen. That goes without saying – to whom had anyone ever heard of a diner in the boiler room?
As the name implies, it opens around midnight. There are only a handful of customers at a time.
Operators off their night shift could take an order and bring back to their quarters. Night owls could sit dining-in while leeching off the Diner's wi-fi. The Doctor would come for instant noodles from time to time.
Drinks are in the cooler. Anyone burdened by their own thoughts could take one and chug it down, anytime.
Menu? No such thing exists. What the Chef prepares is what you get. It all depends on his mood of the day.
Welcome to the Rhodes Island Late Night Diner. In here, you might even meet a familiar face or two.
"I say, what does the captain expect when he asked us to stake out here? Isn't this just a regular market street? "
In the shadow of the street alley, a figure poked out his head out around the corner. He complaint.
"What do you think you know?! This street is only a few minutes' walk from Rhine Lab's sample storage. If you are a lab tech working there, what's the most likely place you'll end up after work?" A voice from behind him questioned.
"Um...go home and take a nap?"
"Nap, nap and nap, what else do you know other than sleep?!" The man's companion tapped him on the back of his head. "The captain had already scouted out the place. This is the road that all the researchers took from the sample lab. As long as we keep a tab on their movement, we can definetly dig out some key info. When the Leader come to Columbia, we'd the be ones that make history!"
"Yeah yeah, that's what you said last time. Even after we took Chernobog, we still ended up chewing on hard black bread. There were so many outins too every single day..." The one who supposed to look out said and rubbed his grumbling belly. "Say, where did the captain go? I'm starving!"
"Talk less if you do." The voice of his companion answered, not without a hint of fatigue and hunger. "What, you thought you are the only one who's hungry?"
Just a few yards away from the alley was a hot dog stand. The sheet-iron cart sported a flat iron grill and a small frying pan. Inside the pan was a ring of brownish-red sausages. It was easy to make a hotdog – When the sausage was cooked till the skin was crispy it was placed in-between a pre-warmed bun. The customers could then choose the condiments they wanted with a portion of caramelized onion or relish. The entire process would only take more than a minute of time. Yet the line before the stall was no were near the end, and as if it was some kind of negative feedback loop, the more people stayed in line the more patient new customers who joined the elongated queue became. It was unappalled by any other shops or stalls on the street.
The stall owner was a quiet person. He never asked about his customer of their likes, nor he actively advertise his establishment. If anyone was unsure about the toppings, he would just give them the classic – a smidgen of tomato ketchup, a squeeze of yellow mustard, then he would hand the hotdog to them in a wax paper wrapping. It rarely went wrong.
All of the sudden, as if blown by a gust of wind, a stick of sausage came off from the edge of the frying pan and rolled slowly and wobbling down the owner's work area. The owner, swamped by the incoming customers, didn't realised the sausage's "jailbreak", and a couple of minutes later another one came off the cart the same way. Then followed by the third. When the owner realised some sausages were missing and checked the cart left and right, three hotdog buns came rolling down from the warmer, and disappeared around an insignificant street corner.
A few minutes later, a petit Savra man in Reunion uniform took off the mask on his face, and produced three steaming hotdogs-in-buns from within his large coat. The two Wraith on their mission were startled by their captain suddenly appearing before them, yet they licked their lips when they caught the scent of the delicious pan-fried sausages.
"Captain, you're finally back!" The two took the hotdogs from Ethan's hands and started wolfing them down. "How did it go? Didn't get spotted, right?"
"Eh, rest ye wary hearts. That owner guy didn't have a a single clue of what went on!" Ethan shook his finger in front of them with pride. "Too bad I can't get more condiments for you guys. I'd at least get some mustard for you if not the customers swarming the whole place."
Yet the soft warm bun and the boiled-then-fried cystbeast meat sausage still tasted far more delicious compare to their hardtack-and-water ration, even without any condiments on them. The three Wraith thoroughly enjoyed their supper. The flakes of breadcrumbs dusted their dark uniform like snowflakes.
Even so, their hard-earned meal did not make the soldiers of the Reunion movement forgo their mission. They wiped the grease stains from their mouth afterwards, then once again put on their mask and night-vision goggles and disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway.
The Diner tonight was, as usual, filled with customers. The grill was packed with cystbeast thigh meat patties, and the meal was completed with Kaiser buns and vegetable salad. For those who were on a weight-loss diet, a meal like this could undo an entire week worth of progress. The Chef raised his eyes, and saw a dinner plate floating in the air by itself before the counter.
"You again huh? I thought you could at least show your face around here." The Chef took over the plate, then placed a serving of tonight's special in it. Before he handed the plate back, he added on the meat patty a large spoonful of tomato ketchup and yellow mustard.
"Eh, it's no difference whether if I show my face or not. Though true to the rumors that your meal could make even the most angry person calm and peaceful! After all, a full-filling meal in the belly would bring just about the happiest sensation to the-"
A meal card floated in the air. Just before it touched the card reader, Ethan suddenly revealed himself in front of the Chef and complaint. "Ey boss! Why did I get an extra charge on my meal?!"
"Well now, how much do you think three Columbian hotdogs cost?" The Chef huffed. "I even got you the ketchup and mustard you wanted."