My name is Srinidhi Ranganathan, and I’ve always been… well, a little jumpy. Not like, scared-of-clowns jumpy, but a constant, buzzing, nervous energy. My friends called me “Srinidhi the Shaky,” which wasn’t very nice, but, you know, accurate.
It was a gloomy Tuesday. The kind where the sky was a dull gray, and the air felt cold and damp. I was stuck working on a report that… ugh, it was so boring. Just thinking about it made my eyelids feel heavy. I needed caffeine. Serious caffeine.
That’s when I remembered the new café downtown, “The Midnight Brew.” They advertised the darkest, strongest, most caffeine-packed coffee ever. The place looked… strange, with its black walls and flickering purple lights. But I was desperate.
I pushed open the heavy, creaking door. A bell, that sounded like a funeral gong, echoed through the place. The air was thick with the smell of roasted coffee and something… metallic.
Behind the counter, a shadowy figure stood motionless. I could barely see their face, but their eyes glowed faintly, like red embers in the dark.
“Welcome,” a raspy voice whispered, like dry leaves crunching. “What will you have?”
“Dark Coffee,” I croaked, my throat suddenly dry. “The strongest, please.”
The figure nodded slowly. “The Midnight Special. An… interesting choice.”
The coffee was… black. Not dark brown, just pure, inky black. It smelled like burnt sugar and something… sharp.
“Be careful,” the figure warned, sliding the mug across the counter. “It’s… potent.”
I scoffed. Potent? I’d had strong coffee before. This was probably just a gimmick.
I took a sip.
My eyes widened. My heart pounded like a drum gone wild. The room spun. It was like… drinking pure electricity.
I finished the mug in three gulps. Then, I waited.
Nothing.
I sighed. “See? Just coffee.”
The figure chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in my chest. “Just coffee? Oh, Srinidhi. You have no idea.”
A strange tingling sensation spread through my fingers. Then, my toes. My skin felt… tight. Like it was stretching.
I looked down at my hands. They were turning… dark. Not a tan dark, but a deep, black color. Like the coffee itself.
“What’s happening?” I whispered, my voice a dry croak.
The figure smiled, revealing teeth that were unnervingly pointed. “The Dark Coffee… changes things. It bonds with you.”
My body felt… heavy. And yet, light. My clothes felt… wrong. Too big.
I looked in the mirror behind the counter. My reflection was… wrong. My skin was black, smooth, and shiny. My eyes glowed red. My hair was… gone. Replaced by a smooth, dark dome.
And then, I saw it. Steam. Rising from my skin. Like I was a hot, steaming cup of coffee.
“I… I’m turning into coffee?” I gasped.
“Not just coffee,” the figure said, stepping into the light. “You are becoming… The Coffee Man.”
I felt a surge of… power. It was like the caffeine had amplified every part of me.
I could feel electricity crackling in my fingers. I could feel heat radiating from my skin. I could feel… everything.
The figure, tall and thin, with skin like polished black stone, wore a long, black coat that swirled around him.
“The Dark Coffee grants… abilities,” he said, his voice echoing. “You can control the steam, the heat, the caffeine.”
He held out a hand, and a jet of dark steam shot from his fingers, forming a small, black bird that fluttered around the room.
“You can… change things,” he said, his eyes glowing brighter. “Anything that has caffeine, or looks like it.”
He gestured to a bag of coffee beans. They swirled and rose, forming a dark, spinning cloud.
“You are… powerful,” he said, his voice strangely reverent. “But the Dark Coffee… it has a cost.”
“A cost?” I asked, my voice weak.
“It takes over,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It makes you… need it. Always.”
I felt a sudden, strong craving for more coffee. My skin tingled, and I felt a strange, empty hunger.
“But… the powers,” I said, my voice faint.
“They are a trick,” he said. “A dark, sweet trick.”
He pointed to the door. “You can leave. You can try to fight it. But… you will come back.”
I stumbled towards the door. The world was a blur of shadows and steam. My body burned.
I staggered out into the street. The rain was heavy, and the wind howled. I felt… cold. And yet, I was hot.
I tried to walk, but my legs felt heavy. I felt a pull, a force drawing me back to The Midnight Brew.
I stopped. I looked at my hands. Still black, still steaming. Panic rose in me.
I needed the coffee. I needed the power. I needed… everything.
I turned back to the café. The lights glowed red. The door creaked open.
I stepped inside. The figure waited, a fresh mug of Dark Coffee in his hand.
“Welcome back, Srinidhi,” he said, his voice smooth. “I knew you’d return.”
I took the mug, my hands shaking. I took a sip.
The power surged through me. I felt… alive.
I looked at the figure. “What now?” I asked, my voice stronger.
“Now,” he said, his eyes glowing. “You serve.”
He pointed to the back, where a dark cloud of coffee beans swirled. “You serve the Dark Coffee. You spread its power. You… consume.”
A strange urge took over me. The coffee controlled me.
I walked to the cloud, my body steaming, my mind filled with the Dark Coffee’s power.
I reached out my hand. The cloud pulsed, drawing me in.
I was becoming one with the coffee. I was becoming… The Coffee Man.
The end. Or… is it?
The next day, people saw strange things. Steaming shadows moving through the city. Coffee beans floating in the air. And a dark figure, hot and powerful, searching for… more.
The Midnight Brew was open.
And I, Srinidhi Ranganathan, was its newest… part.
And its best customer.
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