A wolf and a skunk sat across from each other in a nearly empty cafe.
It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Not quite dinner, too late for lunch.
Being Yenday (the last day of the work week), people were still working.
Marcel, the wolf, had Yendays off. He liked having a three-day weekend.
He worked on Durimday.
(A scheduled day off in the middle of the work week).
He'd have time to fully recover before Roday.
(The first day of the work week, after the weekend).
Rimas, the skunk, owned the bookstore beside the cafe.
Rimas, therefore, worked whenever she pleased.
She took an hour for lunch around this time every day.
On Yendays, she shares that time with Marcel.

Rimas and Marcel sit across from each other in a booth in a cafe, viewed from the side, with lights strung overhead. There is a view behind them of trees on the left behind Rimas, and a cityscape within a valley behind Marcel. Marcel holds an open paper cup of black coffee. In front of Rimas, there is plastic cup filled with iced coffee, and topped with whipped cream and a chocolate syrup drizzle. Rimas is intently focused on drawing symbols on the paper in front of her, and has a black pen in her hand. There is a red pen on the table in front of her. Marcel looks off into the distance with a faint smile on his face.

Hmmm... Hm h-hmm! Hmm, hmm, hmmmmm...

How'd we end up here, Rimas?

We walked.

Marcel sighed.

Marcel looks straight ahead at the viewer. A sign behind him on the right side reads 'restroom' in Mersian Script. There are additional empty booths visible behind Marcel. On the left side behind him, road snakes down the hill towards a row of buildings. A series of hills rises behind those buildings, with clouds in the sky above those hills.
You know that isn't what I meant.

Yeah. I know. But consider the circumstances in which we find ourselves.
It's a lovely afternoon. You're having a coffee with your best friend.
You've got the weekend ahead of you. Why worry?

That's just it, Rimas. I've got nothing going on, and neither do you.
I'm bored! Aren't you bored?

Nope! I'm having the time of my life over here.

... Really?
We're thirty, now. We're not kids anymore.
Neither of us has a girlfriend. We do the same things week after week.
Are our lives just... done being interesting?
Are we losers?

Ugh. Come on, Marce, not that again.
I'm a beloved local business owner. You're a retired pro wrestler.
We're not losers.
Hell, people still come up to you asking for an autograph!
Nobody asks me for my autograph. And look at me! I'm great!
Their loss. Hmph.

Yep. Their loss, alright.

So, uh... What were we talking about? I forgot.

About that wrestling thing.
I know it's been a few years. But I've been thinking.
What if I made a comeback? I've had dreams about that.
Vivid, brilliant dreams where I'm back in the ring.
Where I finally get to go up in front of a crowd without boos.
Dreams where I come back and I get to be myself instead of... a heel.
Just one last match. Stepping back in the ring for one last match.

Rimas had heard this line of thinking before.
It sounded just as ridiculous as the last time she had heard it.
She laughed out loud before regaining her composure enough to speak.

Rimas sits at the booth with her right forearm and hand on the table in front of her. There is a piece of paper with a magical circle on it in front of her forearm, and there is a red pen on its side in front of the paper. Her left hand is held aloft next to her below shoulder height with her ring and pinky finger curled in. Her index and middle finger are extended, with a black pen suspended between them, point up. Her elbow is hidden behind the table. Her expression is both incredulous and amused.

If you actually resorted to that, then you'd be a loser.
You retired undefeated. That's so cool! Stay undefeated.
If you made this big comeback only to lose your first match...
That would be ever so sad.

Sad, old... Washed up...

Okay, okay, you made your point.

Marcel squinted at the table in front of him.
Rimas had developed the worrying habit of attempting to cast magic.
Magic, of course, is even more illegal than flying without a permit.
You can, through proper procedure, obtain a license to fly.
No legal path exists for casting magic.
And yet, here Rimas sat, in full view of the public, brazenly attempting it.

Same scene as Marcel's earlier appearance. Marcel looks down at the table with furrowed brows.
What the hell are you drawing, actually?
This had better not be what I think it is.

Oh, are you curious?
Don't you want to know what these symbols mean? I can show you.
In fact... Why don't I do that?

There's no way it'll work.

Before, no, it wouldn't have. But I figured out the missing piece.
Wanna bet whether it'll work this time?

Rimas smirked, a devilishly mischievous and unhinged look in her eyes.

I'm not putting my money anywhere near whatever this is.
We're inside. In public. It's the middle of the day. You wouldn't dare.

She placed her right hand over the magic circle and focused.
The air around her hand glowed an unnatural blue hue as the energies within her coalesced as directed.
Before long, sparks appeared above her left hand, as her expression turned from mischief to madness.

Same scene as Rimas's earlier appearance. Rimas looks up with a defiant expression, her eyes flashing as a small ball of fire flashes into and out of existence above her left hand, which is held in front of her body. Her right hand is pressed against the magic circle on the table.

Observe, dear Marcel...
My magnum opus!!

Are you crazy??
Stop! Stop it!

Marcel panicked and tried to cover her hand, but it was too late.
Another of the heroes, a raccoon named Cae, had already seen what she did.
And he was not pleased about what he saw.

A raccoon named Cae looks on from a distance. The image is a close-up of his face. His eyes are pink, and one side of his lips are raised in an annoyed scowl.

Bitch forgot her fucking place.

It is now time to introduce the final of the six heroes.
In addition, I'll tell how I met them, on the road far from town.