Probably nothing is still something

Connecting to Device TDYP182427...

Blinding white light flashes on the dark clouds blanketing the early morning sky. The lightning above jumps from storm cloud to storm cloud in the blink of an eye. Torrential rain pounds hard against asphalt, concrete, steel poles, glass windows, and everything it can reach. The raindrops fall near horizontal due to the bellowing winds blowing from the ocean front.

"Last one's in. We're good to go."

A man's voice is transmitted through the helmet's built-in communicator. The person wearing the helmet looks to their side. A person wearing metallic full-body armor is facing the open back doors of a plain gray delivery truck. The full-body armor is covering the person inside of it entirely with slightly bulky and somewhat scratched up plating. The helmet's display is showing a green visual indicator that the person in the armor is the man who spoke just now through the communicator. He turns to another person wearing a similar outfit.

"Tell your boss to give us a few days. A week at most."

The other person simply nods to him in response. Despite how dark it is outside and how blurry everything is with the screen of raindrops flying at top speed, the other person's armor is still noticeably more well-kept and sleeker. Instead of being plain metallic, it's painted matte white with a yellow trim.

The person wearing the helmet I'm connected to looks away and heads for the front of the truck.

Connection to Device TDYP182427 lost... Device not found.

As I return my focus to the window faintly reflecting my face, I can't help but wonder if there's a way to increase its range limit myself. The storm outside continue to tap and trickle rain on the glass. Without some sort night-vision device like the ones in the helmet, peering outside let alone navigating through it is near impossible.

"Something out there?"

A plate plinks against the dining booth's table. Hot steam rises from the food it holds, giving a comforting warmth and aroma against the cold and violent morning weather. Sitting in front of me is Gin, and the muscular silver fox who brought the food is Reggie.

"...No, it's... probably nothing."

Reggie is wearing his favorite orange apron on top of his work uniform. He's extremely fit and not using any cybernetic prosthetics, a rarity for someone of his age. His gray beard is full and well-groomed as always, decorating his sculpted yet gentle. He raises an eyebrow to my response.

"Probably nothing is still something."

"...Would it be sensible to see heavily armored individuals walking about in the middle of a flash storm?"

"You mean storm gear? Hmmm..."

Reggie scratches his beard a bit before continuing.

"Haven't seen anyone wearing storm gear around these parts for over a decade. You're most likely to see them near the heart of this city: near and around the corpo districts. Even then they only ever come out when something bad's happened in the middle of a storm."

"In that case I'm probably just seeing shadows."

"You might just be tired, Dahlia told me what happened earlier, with the gangsters and all that."

Gin, who has been busy eating his meal, interjects after a quick gulp of his drink.

"Thanks again for letting us stay the night, Reggie! Er, well, the morning, I guess."

"No problem! Dahlia might complain here and there, but you two are definitely her favorite employees. I'm sure she'd rather have you here than risk sending you out after the flash storm alarm went off right after your shift ended."

"Well if her husband says so then I'll believe it. You think she'll give us a raise if we asked nicely?"

"Hah! Nope. Not unless you impress her."

"Sounds impossible."

"Yeah, unless you're me."

Reggie gives Gin a playful smirk.

"Anyway! Since we probably won't be open for the breakfast shift, I'll be joining Dahlia and getting some rest. Make yourselves at home, clean up after yourselves, and uhhh... don't do anything that might make the wife mad, mkay?"

As Reggie spoke he took off his apron, hung it on the coatrack near the front door, and headed for the stairs. Gin gave Reggie a thumbs up in response while he scarfs down his food. Once Reggie disappears up the stairs, I turn to Gin with mild surprise.

"I didn't realize you two are that fond of one another."

Gin shrugs.

"We spend all night back in the kitchen. It gets boring without a little conversation. Plus, I've been having him give me a few pointers on how to cook whenever there aren't many customers. You should see the smile on his face whenever cooking becomes the topic. Happiest buff grandpa ever."

"In that case, I hope it goes well. Maybe one day you'll be good enough to be promoted from busboy to assistant chef."

"You know it'd be so much easier to practice if you gave me your opinion on the food I cook."

"You realize I don't have the capacity to taste, right?"

"Well... Not yet..."

"We're not buying me a taste-capable tongue, Gin."

Just as Reggie said, we made sure to make ourselves at home and banter while the outside continues to be drenched in the seemingly endless storm.