Wake me up before you cocoa

Amidst the frost-kissed streets of New York City, where the city's heartbeat echoed through the towering skyscrapers, Eevi Väinölä found herself on an unusual hiatus. The recent skirmish in London had left her battered and broken, multiple broken ribs and a rather severe concussion to boot. However, these injuries provided her as well with a temporary leave from the relentless pace of her shadowy career to recover. December unfolded its wintry charm across the urban landscape, and Eevi, adorned in layers to ward off the biting cold, decided to grant herself a respite—a break from the clandestine world she inhabited.

With multiple broken bones and the echoes of the museum fight still resonating in her memories, Eevi chose a peculiar form of convalescence—one that indulged her sweet tooth. A glutton for all things sugary and decadent, she embarked on a quest through the city's bustling streets, seeking solace and comfort in the warm embrace of hot chocolate. Even her aching back and sides wouldn't disagree with a warm drink at this time.

Eevi, the assassin known as Inkwell, known for her calculated moves and formidable skills, now wandered through the city with a different purpose—a quest for the finest hot chocolate spots and businesses across Manhattan. Despite her injuries, a festive spirit stirred within her. Wrapped in scarves and a coat that concealed the traces of recent battles, she navigated the winter wonderland of New York City. Memories of Finland long ago stirring and disappearing just as easily with the concrete maze of the eternally busy city taking her thoughts away.

Her journey took her to quaint cafes and bustling cocoa havens, each cup offering a momentary escape from the shadows that clung to her past exploits. With a steaming mug cradled in her hands, Eevi sought the simple pleasure of sipping rich hot chocolate, letting the sweetness permeate her senses and momentarily drown out the echoes of her clandestine life.

As she traversed the city's diverse neighborhoods, Eevi discovered the therapeutic power of chocolatey warmth. From the historic charm of Greenwich Village to the glittering lights of Times Square, each sip became a step toward healing, a respite from the constant dance with danger that defined her usual days.

This December, amidst the city's glittering lights and the comforting aroma of cocoa, Eevi Väinölä allowed herself a taste of normalcy, a sweet interlude in the tapestry of her enigmatic existence. And so, with a broken but resolute spirit, she continued her journey through the city, one hot chocolate spot at a time, seeking solace in the sweet symphony of New York's December delights. She wondered for a microsecond if she even deserved to feel like this, but quickly brushed away the thought. Drowning it down in another mug of cocoa.

Israel Knight sat comfortably in the corner of the bustling New York City coffee shop, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of hot cocoa. The cozy aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries enveloped the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the patrons. Outside, the city was blanketed in a serene layer of snow, casting a soft glow over the familiar streets.

As the man called Pinnacle took a sip of the rich, velvety cocoa, he exchanged a warm smile with the owner, a friendly soul who had become accustomed to Israel's frequent visits. The owner, bustling behind the counter, greeted Israel with a nod, knowing his favorite order by heart.

Seated by the frosted window, Israel watched the flurry of snowflakes dance in the winter air, the city coming alive with the enchanting beauty of the season. Despite his extraordinary abilities, Israel cherished these quiet moments of normalcy, finding solace in the simple pleasures of life.

The sounds of the espresso machine and the gentle hum of conversation provided a soothing backdrop as Pinnacle savored his hot cocoa, the familiar taste a comforting indulgence on a chilly winter day. His thoughts wandered, reflecting on the enduring sense of community and warmth that permeated the cozy coffee shop.

Occasionally, a passerby would cast a curious glance in Pinnacle's direction, recognizing him as a local hero. Israel acknowledged them with a nod, appreciating the unspoken connection with the people he swore to protect.

As he lingered in the inviting ambiance of the coffee shop, Israel found a moment of respite from the demands of his heroic duties. With each sip of the hot cocoa, he embraced the tranquility of the moment, content in the knowledge that even amidst the chaos of the city, there existed a haven of familiarity and friendship within the walls of the coffee shop.

The scene captured the essence of Israel's dual existence, where the extraordinary met the ordinary, and where heroes and even villains could find comfort in the simple joys of a quiet winter day in New York City.

His contemplation was interrupted as he registered that someone of interest had just entered the region of the city where he had set up invisible extensions of himself via injecting himself into the quantum foam, (in layman's terms.)

His Zero-Point Sense immediately alerted him to the concealed injuries the girl carried, presumably from recent battle given her state. His keen awareness registered the telltale signs of strain and discomfort that she apparently endeavored to hide.

As the door to the coffee shop swung open, and she strode in, Israel remained at his table, observing her approach with a mix of empathy and caution. Despite his concern for her well-being, he knew that approaching her directly might startle or unsettle her, especially if she sought a moment of respite from the turmoil of her experiences.

Instead, Pinnacle chose to keep a watchful "eye" from his vantage point, his senses attuned to the subtle shifts in her demeanor as she entered the coffee shop. His thoughts flickered with the weight of responsibility that came with his abilities, as he grappled with the delicate balance between respecting her privacy and ensuring that she received the care she needed.

As she neared the counter, Pinnacle maintained a discreet vigil, silently acknowledging the resilience and determination in her gait, despite the invisible burden she bore. He didn't have to physically look in her direction to do so. Indeed, his back was to the door by the time she began to approach the shop from outside.

He gathered that she was sampling the local fare, at least where hot cocoa was concerned. He didn't need to have amazing detective skills to surmise this, it was evident in her stomach contents.

He mentally cringed at the thought that just about anyone would probably not be okay with having their stomach contents perused, but in his defence, he thought to himself, he didn't really "turn on" his Zero-Point Sense. It was omnipresent.

In the midst of the coffee shop's warm embrace, Israel resolved to find a way to offer his support in a manner that honored her autonomy, knowing that sometimes, a subtle gesture of understanding could speak volumes in the language of empathy.

Eevi sat in the coffee shop, nursing her own cup of hot cocoa. It had been decorated with the standard holiday accessories one would expect of the season, the girl taking orders at the front counter even wore a pair of antlers to match the festive theme inside. The rich aroma wafted through the air, blending with the comforting hum of conversation and the occasional clink of mugs. The frosted window beside her offered a view of the snow-covered streets, and for a moment, she allowed herself to savor the simple joy of the warm beverage.

However, as she raised the cup to take a sip, a sudden jolt of pain coursed through her body, a stark reminder of the recent battle overseas and the injuries she had endured because of it. Unbeknownst to her, the act of lifting the cup caused a wince to cross her face, and she unintentionally released a subtle gasp. In the midst of the crowded cafe, the cup slipped from her grasp, clattering against the table and drawing the attention of nearby patrons.

Her eyes briefly narrowed in annoyance as she fumbled to regain control of the situation. With a forced smile, she glanced around, hoping her momentary lapse had gone unnoticed. The bustling atmosphere of the coffee shop provided some cover, but the unexpected pain served as a stark reminder of the toll her recent endeavors had taken on her body.

Eevi focused on composing herself, determined not to let her vulnerabilities show. Little did she know, a watchful presence observed from a discreet corner, attuned to the nuances of her reactions. A struggled shallow breathing had replaced her, until now, maintained, gentle, and slow breath. While she tried to save face, the pain was stabbing all around and into her chest while taking a toll on her composure, mental as well as physical.

As she attempted to recover from the inadvertent spill, guilt lingered in the recesses of her thoughts like a shadow refusing to be ignored. The bustling coffee shop, with its warmth and laughter, served as both a refuge and a contrasting reminder of the life she had led for the past 80 years. The guilt, an unwelcome companion, whispered to her in the clatter of cups and the echoes of conversation.

Suppressing the embarrassment that accompanied the scene she unintentionally created, Eevi's mind drifted to the countless lives she had altered, the choices she had made in the name of survival and success. The weight of each decision, each pull of the “trigger”, lay heavy on her conscience, and in moments like these, it clawed its way to the surface. All over someone genuinely thanking her.

She forced a smile, acknowledging the concerned glances from fellow patrons, all the while grappling with the internal turmoil. The spilled cocoa seemed like a metaphor for the spills of blood she had caused, a tangible reminder of the stains that marked her path as an assassin.

Eevi's fingers tightened around the newly cleaned cup, the contrast between the warmth in her hands and the chill within her soul palpable. The guilt, like a dormant ember, flared to life, consuming her thoughts as she tried to bury it beneath the facade of normalcy.

Despite her stoic exterior, the weight of regret gnawed at her. Eight decades of living in the shadows, of leaving behind a trail of bodies, haunted her even in the sanctuary of a coffee shop. The guilt and remorse, stifled but never truly silenced, wove through the fabric of her existence, a silent companion in the midst of the bustling world around her.

In moments like this. She felt like she really was Eevi Väinölä again, a 19 year old Finnish girl living in a forgotten an unknown to the world village without any cruelty or malice in her. But being just Eevi Väinölä was a long time ago.

She tried to shake the thoughts down with a sip of her mug and some quiet words of self-assurance. “Come now, don’t let one compliment from a stranger you had targeted shake your conviction, far too late. Far far too late.”

Israel stood and turned around as the hot cocoa spilled, seemingly reacting to the sound of the mug clattering to the floor, but didn't approach immediately, instead, he caught the liquid and the cup just as they were about to collide with the floor, but created the sound of such to sell that it had indeed done so. After a moment, the spilled hot cocoa slowly begins to retrace its path through the air back into her cup, which is steaming again as the whipped cream replaces itself in a perfect swirl. Israel approached as this occurred.

"Don't worry. I didn't let any of it actually touch the floor." Pinnacle said as he walked over. "May I join you?"

Assuming she acquiesced to this request, Pinnacle would sit down across from her and, as he adjusted the way that he sat in order to get more comfortable, he would add: "Forgive my intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice your injuries. Don't worry about us being overheard. I'm eliminating the sound waves before they leave our immediate vicinity." He didn't explain further that he was also altering the light to change how their lips appeared to move to outsiders as well, but he figured he didn't need to... And if she mentioned anything about it, it could give him some insight into her as a person.

He sipped some of his cocoa after speaking.

"Also, you should try the Avococoa. It's the best hot chocolate, hands down. Might sound weird to blend avocado into it, but the cocoa is velvety and sweet. It's thicker than most hot cocoas, but I don't mind that personally. Makes you want to slow down and enjoy it rather than chug it."

You have got to be kidding right? Another person with powers just popping up in her life? Maybe she should buy that lottery ticket after all.

Eevi, still grappling with the remnants of her accidental display, managed a nod of gratitude as this man skillfully rescued her spilled cocoa. She watched in a mix of surprise and curiosity as the liquid retraced its path, the cup restored to its former state. Despite the controlled chaos, his calm demeanor offered a soothing contrast to her internal turmoil.

"Thank you," she responded, her voice carrying a hint of both appreciation and the weight of a thousand untold stories with just a hint of forced social normativity to reciprocate his act. As he asked to join her, Eevi hesitated for a moment before gesturing to the empty seat across from her. “Sure, have a seat."

As he sat down, his comment about her injuries caught her off guard. A subtle flicker of wariness passed through her eyes, quickly concealed behind a mask of casual indifference. "Well, it's nothing a little rest won't fix,"she replied with a forced smile, attempting to downplay the significance of her injuries. “Just a klutz all around in my general life, I will probably even end up with a new injury by the weeks end. I just became too casual with the stairs the other day, silly me.” Such a forced smile provoked a genuine wince of pain, even talking too much brought uncomfortable pain to her at this point in her recovery.

His mention of altering sound waves and ensuring privacy intrigued her, but Eevi chose not to delve into the intricacies. Instead, she took a sip of her now magically restored cocoa, its warmth a fleeting comfort in the midst of her conflicting emotions.

"Avococoa, huh? I might give it a try. I’d be lying to say that it didn’t sound odd. Intriguing none the same,” she said, appreciating the diversion from the weighty topics. "I'm Eevi, by the way. Kincaid if you care to be formal. And you?"

The name slipped out almost instinctively, a glimpse of vulnerability beneath the layers of her assassin persona. Even as covered as the fake last name could be. She studied him for a moment, wondering about the man behind this strange appearance and seemingly friendly interaction.

"Israel Knight," he replied, extending his hand for a handshake. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Kincaid." He added, with a smile.

"It's loosely based on an old Mayan recipe. Loosely, mind you." He said, lifting his cup in a "cheers" motion as he did.

He looked out the window at a couple crossing the street, and took a slow draught of his tall mug before continuing: "This is the only café in New York that sells it, to my knowledge." He spoke in a distracted sort of tone before shifting to a more serious one.

"Eevi... You don't need to tell me where or how you got them, but I know those injuries weren't from a simple tumble down the stairs." He offered, turning to look in her direction again.

"I can tend to them, if you'd allow it."

"Eevi," she corrected with a subtle smirk, accepting his handshake. "Just Eevi is fine. And I’ll do the same for you… Israel.” the name left her mouth awkwardly. Like she was carefully saying it to avoid injuring her chest more while also sounding it out as if to sample the name in some off way.

As he explained the origins of the Avococoa, she found herself intrigued by the blend of tradition and novelty. The conversation drifted to the injuries she tried to dismiss, but Israel’s direct acknowledgment left her momentarily silent.

His offer to tend to her injuries carried a weight of genuine concern that she hadn't expected. Eevi hesitated, her guarded exterior momentarily faltering. "I appreciate the offer, Israel," she said, her voice softer than before. "But I've been through worse. I'll manage."

Her eyes, however, betrayed a flicker of gratitude, a silent acknowledgment of the empathy she found in this unexpected encounter. The café, once a mere backdrop to her moment of embarrassment, had become a stage for an unforeseen connection—one that transcended the boundaries of hero and assassin. “Besides, men much larger than you have laid hands on me before and I still walked them off all the same as well.”

A laugh left her lips over that statement. This long road of hers started nearly a century ago because of what other men had did to her. What they had taken from her. They were all old bones now while she had not gained even a wrinkle. “Life is beautiful like that wouldn’t you agree?”

Israel smiled a bit at her confident response and final inquiry, "I suppose it is," he replied, but after a moment's pause, he prodded: "Are you certain? It would take a literal second or two."

He punctuated the statement by coalescing a small, translucent, yet otherwise featureless human figure matching her internal injuries, and reknitting bone and the like on said figure before evaporating the whole 'scale model' into nothingness.

"Look. No hands." He adds, for comedy's sake as well as to emphasize that there would be no need for him to, as she put it, 'lay hands' on her.

Eevi couldn't help but crack a small grin at his demonstration, appreciating the touch of humor in the situation. "Impressive trick," she remarked, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

Leaning back in her chair, she regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "Alright, Israel. Give it a shot," she conceded, allowing a moment of vulnerability to surface. Despite her decades-long dance with danger, there was an unexpected comfort in the prospect of someone offering to mend, even metaphorically, the fractures she carried within.

As she extended her hand, the intricate ink tattoos on her knuckles, resembling the cartridges of a sidearm, subtly glinted in the soft café lighting—a visual testament to the many battles and secrets etched into her history. ”Is there a magic word that I need to say first?”

"On the contrary," Israel began, and even as he did, Eevi felt instantly better. "There's actually no magic involved."

To Eevi, it would, without extraordinary extrasensory capabilities, appear as if she was suddenly and miraculously healed; returned to pristine condition as if by magic.

The reality of the situation was more complex than that, as Israel had produced and subsequently sent out quantum foam injections of his matter into her damaged bones and tissues before having them coalesce into her own blood, bone, muscle tissue, and whatever else her body was missing.

These extensions of himself then, on the cellular level, quickly healed the damaged areas before becoming inert for his purposes, as he allowed his spirit to leave them, wherein her own would fill the void. The integration would be a perfect success.

He didn't explain this to her though, preferring to maintain the mystery at least for now. He wasn't sure if he could trust her after all... But whether she was a hero or villain, she was hurt, and he could do something about it.

... So he did.

That much was simple.

The sudden wave of warmth and well-being swept over Eevi like a gentle tide. For a moment, she felt weightless, as if the years of accumulated scars and weariness were lifted off her shoulders. The subtle aches and pains that had become her constant companions faded away, leaving behind a sense of rejuvenation. She flexed her fingers, rotated her shoulders, and marveled at the absence of discomfort. It was as if the injuries, both recent and ancient, had been erased from existence. She shot Israel a surprised and appreciative look, her eyes narrowing in a subtle mix of curiosity and gratitude.

A dark chuckle left her lips. "So much for a long vacation from work to recover." A playful, pouting look crossed her face as she let at cocked smile form on her lips. "They might even say I lied about it to get out of my work. You owe a lady for making her a liar." Her orange eyes beamed into him, not even trying to convey anything but a coy playfulness to mask her "inconvenience".

"Alright, Israel, spill the secret. What kind of abilities did you just pull off?" she asked, her tone a playful blend of skepticism and intrigue. Eevi couldn't deny the relief coursing through her, but her instincts, honed by years of clandestine dealings, demanded an explanation. "In exchange, I owe you for this surprise treatment. Fair is fair and I don't like debts so make your demands." Placing her wallet on the table she prepared to start these dealings with an offer. "For starters, This first round of Avococoa is on me.

Israel gave her a bit of a suffering look when she mentioned her vacation being cut short because of his help, but upon hearing her offer, Israel shook his head. "You are kind, but I can't accept that. I make a generous enough salary as it is with my day job, let alone my passive income from my father's company. Privilege, I know."

He snorted quietly at that last statement.

"Also, I don't even need to pay for room and board. I technically didn't even need to come here to enjoy this drink." He added, lifting the mug briefly.

"I could just make it myself, but well... I'm sure your familiar with Robert Nozick's Experience Machine thought experiment; it's just not the same, even if I recreate it down to the last quantum string."

He rotates the mug thoughtfully in his fingers while saying this.

"And to answer your question, since you asked me so directly... I'm no longer a strictly macrophysical being."

He paused for a moment to gauge her response in a natural time frame.

"I mean, I was born relatively normal. I was smart, but powerless, in the metagenetic sense..." This information was all available online anyway, he thought as he continued. "Now, my genetics aren't even really a factor anymore. I guess you could say I've achieved Moksha or Nirvana. I'm more or less one with the quantum information substrate of reality. One with myself. More specifically, I can influence and order quintessence within my Merkava."

He paused again, uncertain if this was actually explaining anything.

"In Layman's terms, I can manipulate my matter and make more of it to influence."

... Among other things he thought.

His refusal would be expected but that’s not how Eevi functioned, it’s not how her world worked even. Raising a hand she motioned for a waitress to come over and, hoping that Israel’s disruption of their speech wouldn’t work for this, ordered a cup of Avococoa for the two. “Don’t worry. I don’t feel like I have to do this for you, now I want to do it. Needing the sustenance or not, you were still here drinking it. And you suggested it. So obviously you can still enjoy it.”

She was observing him, doubtless that he even needed to hold the mug now to drink it. If what he described was how she understood it, he could’ve simply willed the drink into his mouth. “You come here because your powers can’t replicate the experience of this however.” Raising both of her hands, Eevi gestured at the busy store and the streets outside covered equally in people as well as snow.

Eevi leaned back, digesting Israel's revelations with a mixture of fascination and incredulity. Her own experiences with the peculiar and unexplained had left her open to the possibility of extraordinary abilities, but the extent of Israel's explanation was something beyond her usual encounters. At least this one didn’t wish her harm apparently, how quaint.

”So, you're telling me you're like a walking, talking philosophers stone with a dash of existentialism?" She chuckled, taking another sip of her hot cocoa, the warmth of the drink now accompanied by the warmth of a newfound acquaintance sharing his extraordinary reality. The part of her brain that was an assassin, that was Inkwell, already began to work at such a possibility of those skills and their applications in her field.

”I've met my fair share of peculiar folks over the years, but you might just take the cake. Not every day you encounter someone who's transcended their own genetics." She raised an eyebrow playfully. "Guess that makes you a one-of-a-kind blend of science and magic, Israel." She shrugged. “Even if you disagree with my use of ‘magic’, how else would people describe things they don’t know?”

Her eyes gleamed with curiosity as she continued, "If you don't mind me asking, what brought you to this state of existence? And how does someone decide to become a quantum alchemist, if that's even the right term for it?"

"Well, I suppose it's not inaccurate to say that Magic is the science of Quintessence, and insofar as that definition is concerned, I guess I'm a bit magical... But there is, in fact, a greater distinction between the two. Magic is primarily concerned with virtual particles and granting formless quintessence an opportunity to become something more, albeit briefly. What makes magic different, however, is that the imprint of 'nothingness' remains. There's a touch of the vacuum to it all. What I do is less conjuration, and more... Well... Being one with that quintessence... If that makes sense."

In response to her question, Israel laughed softly, in what was perhaps a melancholy or nostalgic way. "I'd like to say that I was just so intelligent that I scienced my way to enlightenment or something like that, but that's not the case. Like the discovery of Penicillin, this:" he said, gesturing up and down to himself. "... Was an accident. I didn't intend to become like this, I mean, not exactly."

He leaned forward onto his elbows, resting his chin on the back of his left hand, which was placed upon his right.

"How to explain... I wanted to attain self-mastery, and I did, but what I didn't realize was that I carried a latent metagene. Dormant. Inactive. Everyone does. This much, was the accidental discovery. My serum shouldn't have worked, but fate wrote that my genes would do exactly what I wanted them to in that moment."

He paused, thoughtfully, before getting a slight smirk.

"Hashtag blessed, am I right?"

Eevi chuckled at the hashtag reference, finding a moment of humor in the midst of their peculiar conversation.

"Well, you certainly stumbled into a unique brand of enlightenment. A cosmic accident with a touch of serendipity," she remarked, twirling the handle of her cocoa mug. She had finished it rather quickly this time, hopefully the promised quality of the Avococoa wouldn’t be lacking.

"But tell me, Israel, what do you make of this world, knowing what you do? With your perspective, do you find it harder or easier to navigate the complexities of life, especially with the knowledge that there's more than meets the eye?" Eevi's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she awaited Israel's insight into the balance of his extraordinary existence within the ordinary fabric of the world. “Has knowing more truly helped you in this world, more so then the generally unassuming and ill-informed general person from the public who is just living their day to day approaching the same inexorable end we all reach one day?”