[rework] Minglings - chapter 1: The broadcast

The coffee shop was silent as everybody stared in disbelief at the television. The shocking message was starting to replay for the second time.

"Fuck..." Jake muttered as he leaned back in his chair.

He glanced at the ceiling, trying to get a grip on himself, then looked across the table. Sitting on the opposite sofa was his best friend, spacing out and staring into the dark contents of his coffee cup.

"Mason, snap out of it! What do we do?" Jake said, breaking the silence.

Some people looked at him in shock before whispered discussions started everywhere.

"I... don't know. But we should probably call our parents," Mason said.

Jake nodded dumbly and took out his phone, not looking forward to the conversation. As he pressed the icon for his mother's house, he almost hoped the line would be congested.

She picked up instantly.

"Jake, where are you? Everything is turning crazy! Missy and Jugs just arrived and are saying it's the end of the world! See? I told you things were worse than they told us, but you would never-"

Jake quietly listened to her rant before interjecting and trying to calm her down. He tried for several minutes, but she kept switching between crying, telling him she told him so, and panicky screaming until he finally couldn't take it anymore.

"I can't come back! It's not safe," he snapped, interrupting another hysterical outburst. "I'm with Mason. We'll find a safe place, and I'll try and find you after!"

It was quiet on the other line as he could hear his mother struggle with herself. Finally, there was a weary sigh.

"Be careful, Jake. Don't do anything... stupid?"

"I won't. You be careful too," Jake said as he hung up. Like she was one to tell him.

He looked at his friend just as Mason pocketed his phone, a grimace on his face. Jake picked up his jacket and stood up.

"We need to find somewhere to lay low. How about the underground car park?" he said.

"I've got a better idea," Mason whispered. "Follow me."

Mason headed for the exit, and Jake walked after him. They got a few looks from the other people, but everyone was still on their phones except for them.

Next to the door was a small, dusty staircase leading up to another section of the coffee shop. A chain with a no-tres-passing sign hung across, as it had for as long as they had come here. Making sure that no one was watching, Mason stepped over.

"Almost nobody comes here. It should be safe," he whispered as he snuck up the stairs.

Jake frowned for a moment, then followed him, trying to make as little noise on the wood steps as possible. Mason always had a knack for finding places nobody would look for him. He'd trusted he knew what he was doing.

Above, they stepped across another no-tres-passing chain and walked across a small foyer towards a dim room. There were a few other doors, but those were all closed.

The furthest wall was lined with large, dirty windows. Light filtered inside from the street, together with muted cries and sounds of panic. As they navigated through the mess of shoved together tables and chairs, they made their way to two massive armchairs in the corner. A few used ashtrays stood to the side, but the layer of dust showed nobody had used them for a good while. The old cracked leather complained noisily as they sat down.

"We've got twenty-one more minutes," Jake said, looking at his watch.

"So, will you pick the goblin race as they said?" he asked before continuing in a rush. "I know some of what that suit said made sense, that if we all pick the same race to mingle with, we will have a greater chance as a species, but..." Jake faltered.

He stared at a dusty table, frowning and not noticing his friends' amused look, then continued in a rush.

"It makes no sense! He also said that all the games and books were nothing but preparation, some elaborate plan by the government. If that's true, it doesn't make sense! Goblins are never the best choice in any game or story. I don't want to become some dimwitted, weak green goblin prone to violent outbursts."

He took a few breaths to calm himself before looking at Mason.

His friend was staring back with a big grin on his face, slowly shaking his head.

"Man, don't get your panties in a twist! There are five options. Goblin? Yeah, no thanks. If they resemble what we've read in books, we'll lose any semblance of humanity. They can tell me goblins are the best pick all day, and I still won't believe them. Beasts are also out because you lose all your memories. Those insectoids aren't an option either. Eating your own kind? Pass. No, there are really only two viable options, and fiends, although cool to look at, are inherently evil, so they're out too," Mason said as he looked at his friend.

Slowly they shared a knowing grin.

"So that leaves us with one choice," Jake said, rubbing his hands.

"Kobolds, the least powerful dragon-blooded thing around," Mason said with a nod.

He leaned forward to check Jake's watch. Ten minutes left.

"What did they say? Don't pick kobolds because they don't care about species and have slower growth?" Mason said, a mocking grin on his face.

They looked at each other, chuckled, and bumped fists.

"Fuck, what do they know?" Jake said before falling silent and staring out of the window, looking at panicking people.

After phasing out for a while, his phone beeped. They had one minute left.

"We should take our shoes off," Mason said as he began removing his shoes and socks. "If we get talons, it might hurt."

Jake agreed and copied him, tossing his socks across the armrest. He sniffed a bit, about to make a funny remark about the smell, when they both sagged back in their chairs, their eyes still open.

As if someone had pressed the mute button, the world fell still. The outside screams stopped abruptly, and even the whir of the wind vanished. Minutes turned to hours when a ripple of light flashed through the walls. Violent quakes caused the building to shake and heave as the walls cracked and the windows shattered.

As unexpected as it began, the rumble ended, and silence returned, only to be broken by the occasional sound of towers collapsing in the distance. In the room, pieces of leftover glass fell to the ground like hail while the old building groaned as if in pain.