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“Well, my dear friends!” Spoke spoke loudly, perhaps through headphones with music loud enough to break eardrums while staring into nonexistent cameras. But, honestly, it was probably just his nature.
Parrot turns to the screen, trying to find who Spock is talking to. He is wearing warm winter clothes, a green jacket with insulation, a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, purple with white stripes, and a hat the same color as the jacket. He has white headphones on his ears so he can hear everyone else normally.
“Today we are doing the legendary challenge...” the voidling paused for dramatic effect, before elbowing Flame, who was standing next to him on his right, in the rib.
“Bro, what—” Flame stammered in annoyance, then sighed heavily. “I'm blind.”
Before the guy can finish, Spoke continues, “I'm deaf!” in a cheerful voice.
“Hmph,” emerges from Wemmbu, his mouth firmly taped shut. He looks both indifferent and amused by the situation he finds himself in.
“And I'm stuck in the Arctic.” Parrot finishes. His voice sounds tired, like someone who has fought a battle with someone incredibly stubborn and lost. Which, in a way, is what happened.
“And today we—we're trying to bake a cake!” comes from both Flame and Spoke simultaneously, out of sync and strange to the ear, while Parrot rather whispers these words to himself. Wemmbu tries to say something too, but it comes out muffled.
Flame wants to ask why they even did that... Greetings? Considering they're not recording video. At least when Flame was putting the cloth over the blindfold, he didn't notice any cameras. But then he remembers the situation he's in now.
Finally the guy shakes his head. “Bro, let's just get this over with.”
Spoke pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, straightening it and placing it on the table. Wemmbu peers over his shoulder, looking at the crumpled piece of paper with its tiny handwriting. It looked barely readable.
Voidling begins to hum under his breath, “Flame, bring me a bowl,” he orders, looking at the recipe as if it were something he's made hundreds of times before. Which, for everyone's information, he absolutely did not.
“What, bro—” Flame says indignantly, “I'm blind here, bro.”
“Don't you, like, in blindfold all the time?” Parrot asks, before shifting his attention to more urgent matters. “Do we even have a recipe?”
Wemmbu raises his head, turns towards Parrot and nods.
“This is different,” Flame grumbles, but turns back to the many lockers and tries to walk away without bumping into anything. He doesn't know the layout of Spoke's house, especially his kitchen. He's been here twice at most.
“Okay, bro, then show me the recipe,” says Parrot, before clarifying. “Wemmbu.”
Wemmbu takes the recipe right from under Spoke's nose, who has turned away for a second to grab the eggs and cocoa powder, and holds it up to the big screen.
Parrot raises his eyebrows, moving closer to the camera. The demon starts shaking the paper out of boredom, to which the bird instantly reacts with irritation, “Wemmbu, bro, hold that thing straight.”
After a minute of struggling with the table and trying to figure out how to open the kitchen cabinet, Flame found what felt like a large glass bowl, perfect for baking.
“Who took the recipe?” Spoke exclaimed in dissatisfaction, like a chef from a five-star kitchen with fifteen years of experience who is interrupted in the cooking process, looking around. Wemmbu turned his head towards him and waved the hand that was not holding the crumpled piece of paper.
“Holy handwriting. Who—” Parrot interrupted himself, squinting at the text, which looked like a mix of Egyptian, Ancient Greek, and a touch of English, “Who in the world wrote this? Bro, the paper looks like it needs life support and ironing.”
Wemmbu nodded vigorously in agreement, trying to say something, muffled.
Flame sets the bowl on the table, missing the floor by an inch. Spoke instantly pulls it toward him. “Good job, soldier. Wemmbu, read—wait, no, Parrot, read what else is needed. Be useful, dude.”
Parrot blinked. “Bro, there's no way I'm reading this. It looks like writing down the ingredients for an ancient ritual!”
Spoke looked at Wemmbu with a smart look, completely unaware of what Parrot had just said. “You heard him. Give us the ingredients we need.”
Wemmbu stared dead at the voidling, weighing his options for what to do before settling for pulling Spoke's leg with his tail, causing the guy to slip and almost fall, holding on to the kitchen counter.
“Bro, can we do something already?” Flame asked, oblivious and, frankly, indifferent to the things that were happening in the room.
“Hphmh,” responds Wemmbu, which doesn't help at all.
Parrot sighs. “Just show it to Spoke.”
Wemmbu shrugs and hands the recipe to said voidling. Spoke takes it in his hands, muttering something about meanness and kitchen manners, which Wemmbu blissfully ignores.
“So!” Spoke recites, getting everyone's attention. Which, you know, wasn't necessary, since there wasn't much to focus on here other than their main objective. “So, for this cake, we're going to need...”
Spoke pauses, staring at the text, which makes Parrot snort. Flame impatiently drums his fingers on the granite countertop, beating out a quiet rhythm.
They were supposed to make a chocolate cake. Well, at least that's what Spoke told them. But knowing the guy, anything could have come of it.
“Uh huh! Got it!” Spoke exclaimed triumphantly. “Okay, Wemmbu, get me the eggs, the powder, the cocoa powder, the baking powder, the baking soda, the salt... But is all this necessary?” He muttered the last part. “Flame, preheat the oven.”
“Got you, bro.”
“Why are we trusting this to someone who can't even see the oven?” Parrot complains, even though Spoke can't hear him. Instead, the voedling mutters a few more ingredients to Wemmbu.
The demon, in turn, threw everything on the table except the eggs, which he obligingly and carefully placed. Spoke hummed happily.
“Can someone point the screen at the counter? Bro, all I see is a wall,” says Parrot. His nose is redder now, his cheeks a shade of pink from spending so much time in the cold.
“Bro, what's an oven in this?” Flame mutters, touching the handle of the lower cabinets before groping for a handle made of a harder material with a glass front. Thank god.
Wemmbu stood by the computer screen that had somehow been miraculously carried into the kitchen and turned it to the side, revealing Spoke trying to measure out flour.
"Okay, so no one can tell me the recipe, can they?" Parrot asks, looking disappointed as Spoke barely manages to measure, but halfway to throwing the flour into the bowl, some of it fell to the surface. Not that the voidling paid any attention to it, considering how he moved on to the next ingredient.
Wemmbu shrugs, walking over to a nearby packet of sugar and a tablespoon to add more sugar. Spoke protests, but makes no attempt to physically stop him.
“More sugar is better.” Spoke says, trying to measure again, this time with baking powder, just to half of it not falling into the bowl again.
Wemmbu mutedly agrees.
“Guys, I really don't think that was in the recipe,” Parrot comments, watching Spoke add the next ingredients, some without even measuring them properly, while Wemmbu watches, intervening only to add more cocoa powder.
Both ignore him, one unintentionally, the other completely so.
“I don't think they're doing anything right,” Flame says, barely finding his way around the kitchen. Parrot would think that with years of wearing a blindfold, the guy would be better at it.
Eventually, Spoke steps back from the bowl full of variously added ingredients that miraculously ended up there to give Flame a whisk.
“Go and mix them, so that they're evenly combined!” Spoke orders in his now familiar manner. Flame grimaces, but takes the whisk, just wanting to get it over with.
Well, it's worth adding that it took him a while to successfully reach the bowl, even with the help of Parrot.
“Straight two steps, no, smaller steps—yes, here,” the bird directs him. “Okay, the bowl is on the right, wait, no, on your left.” Parrot quickly corrects himself, trying to help.
Flame tries to reach for the glassware with his hand in confusion, but just as he starts to reach for it, Wemmbu takes it away and moves it away from the guy.
Flame catches the sound of the bowl moving, “Wemmbu, bro, if you don't stop doing this, bro, I swear I'll throw that whisk at you,” he says angrily.
Wemmbu laughs, the sound distorted by the duct tape, but still audible and quite loud, like someone whose mouth is taped shut.
“Wait, Spoke, are you going somewhere?” Parrot asks, noticing the voidling coming out from behind the counter. Flame finally found the bowl and started stirring.
“Sorry bro, I need to change my playlist. I'm not gonna take long.”
With those words, the guy quickly disappears around the corner. Parrot sighs, shaking its head before turning his attention to the two remaining.
Fortunately, both were busy. Flame mixed the ingredients while Wemmbu stepped aside to start making coffee. Even reading without a recipe, Parrot knew the basic things to add, coffee being one of them. Something about enhancing the flavor.
Finished mixing, Flame put down the whisk, turning to where he thought Wemmbu was. “What's next, bro.”
Wemmbu walked over to the counter and looked at the prescription pad. Unfortunately, the handwriting hadn't gotten any clearer or better with time. The demon frowned before pushing Flame slightly away to stand next to the bowl.
The guy mutters curses and kicks the other one in the ankle, and their little impromptus fight only lasts a few minutes before Wemmbu decides to lock in on the cake.
“Wait, Wemmbu, you don't know what's coming next,” Parrot tries to stop the demon, but Wemmbu ignores him, again, in favor of adding the egg. Which wasn't a bad decision. Parrot just wishes they wouldn't screw this up somehow.
Fortunately, Spoke soon returns, his usual smile on his face greeting them. “Did you miss me?”
Wemmbu shakes his head, having just finished mixing the eggs with the ingredients, making sounds of objection. Flame says something about taking his time being gone, and Parrot is silent.
Spoke pouts, ”You guys are so cruel!”
“Can we hurry? It's not very warm in here, bro,” Parrot says. He feels his limbs go a little numb from holding the camera, and he tries to adjust them a little.
Spoke immediately stops sulking and nods enthusiastically, “We need to finish the cake quickly,” he agrees. “We need to create a masterpiece as soon as possible.”
Sticking to his word, Spoke finishes adding the remaining ingredients and quickly mixes everything together. The slurry, made of leftover egg yolk, powder, talcum powder, and oil, on the countertop is disgusting, but Wemmbu and Parrot don't comment.
Flame peered into the oven, relying on touch and the feel of the heat rather than, well, sight. It was the perfect temperature, he was quick to report.
Wemmbu busied himself with the cake tin, casually cutting off the parchment paper to line it so that the cake mixture wouldn't stick to the tin, not at all evenly, but no one was worrying about that now.
Parrot tried to explain to Spoke with gestures how best to carefully pour the mixture into the cake tin, but that was, well, unsuccessful.
To such a point that Flame, already better at navigating the kitchen, approached the voidling at the sound of Spoke's voice and took the mixture from him.
“Ayo, bro!” Spoke exclaimed indignantly, but still didn't try to take it back, watching Flame evenly pour everything into the tin, guided by instinct and sometimes by the voice of Parrot, who helped.
When the future cake was placed in the oven by Wemmbu, Parrot and Flame simultaneously sighed with relief. Watching the cake bake was the easy part. Certainly better than what had just happened. Well, also that was the part that was easier to entrust to the other two.
“How long should it bake?” Parrot asks.
Wemmbu approaches Spoke, who has begun to jump around the kitchen, grabbing dishes and ingredients packaging that hasn't been put away yet, and holds the recipe paper up to his nose.
Voidling pauses. “Buddy, what do you want?” Wemmbu pokes at the end of the recipe, hoping it's the part that says something about actually baking the cake in the oven.
The guy looks where Wemmbu is pointing. “The cake will bake... for 40-45 minutes!”
“Alright, bro,” says Parrot, stretching, holding the camera in one hand. “Let me know how the cake turns out. I should get back inside to the others.”
Wemmbu nods actively and shows a thumbs up..
“Okay, bro.” Flame says, turning to... The opposite side from the camera.
“Someone, pull the headphones off Spoke, or somehow let him know about that. Otherwise he won't let me go live the fact that I just left without him knowing,” the bird mutters, watching the guy try to reach the the top cabinet, god knows for what.
Flame leans against the counter, narrowly avoiding the remains of the egg, while Wemmbu obediently approaches Spoke from behind, who has retrieved some jelly beans from somewhere, and roughly pushes him towards the camera.
“Wemmbu—why is this getting personal?” Spoke grumbles, turning to Wemmbu. The demon just shrugs and points to the screen where Parrot is waving. “Oh, what is it? Ooh, is Parrot really leaving? Right now?” This instantly made him sulk again.
Parrot shrugged, gesturing for him to take off his headphones. The guy fiddled with them for a few seconds before turning the music down on his phone.
“Sorry bro, I really should go inside. Theo is waiting for me.” Parrot says apologetically, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. Another bird had already come out to him several times to check how he was doing.
He didn't want to interrupt Wifies' training with some challenge that Spoke thought would be fun to try. But now that it was all over, Parrot really wanted to get back.
Not that it wasn't actually a little fun.
“We got it, bro, you can go.” Flame says, waving his hand away, but instead of the screen, he points it towards the fridge. Parrot smiles and rolls his eyes before saying goodbye to the others.
After Parrot shuts down and the computer screen fades, Wemmbu is the first to remove the tape from his mouth. “Finally,” he exclaims, lightly touching his lips, which are burning a little.
Flame, in turn, removes the cloth he tied over himself from the blindfold, “I liked it better when you were quiet, bro.” Flame jokes, but sighs with relief. It's much easier to navigate in a blindfold. Considering that it, well, didn't completely obstruct vision.
Wemmbu shakes his head with a smile, “And I liked watching you try to move around like a blind newborn kitten.” the demon replies, glancing at the oven. The batter began to rise and take shape.
Flame grimaces as Spoke takes off his own headphones. They still blare out loud music with barely audible words. He's beaming, even though the challenge has just come to an end.
“I bet I could beat you like that.” Flame says, grinning.
“Absolutely not, bro, I would kick your ass.” Wemmbu laughs.
“Forget the fighting, guys,” Spoke says encouragingly, “We should focus on something more important!”
“On the cake?” Flame and Wemmbu ask simultaneously.
Spoke nods, grinning like crazy, “On the cake!”
Half an hour later, Parrot is sitting by the bed, leaning against the wooden frame, while Theo is discussing something vividly with Wifies, while scrolling through his Instagram feed.
Parrot's phone buzzes with a new message, followed by several more. The guys next to him break away from their discussion for just a moment, glancing curiously at his phone.
The bird picks up his phone from the floor beside him. He instantly sees that the messages have arrived in the group chat where he, Spoke, Wemmbu, and Flame were.
Parrot smiles as he unlocks the screen and enters the group chat. He skips through the last ten messages sent, finishing up with the message with the image attachment.
It showed a finished chocolate cake, round, with one piece cut away to show the middle. Spoke occupied the other half of the picture, making a peace sign, and the figure of Flame and Wemmbu was visible in the background, who were most likely arguing about something again.
He can't help but smile wider at this, not even noticing Theo peering over his shoulder at his phone with interest, until the guy whistles.
“Looks pretty good!” Parrot can't help but agree, turning the screen to Wifies, who nods in agreement as he examines the picture. “I'm almost jealous.”
“And you did it? With that trendy thing?” Wifies asked in surprise. “That's impressive.”
Parrot hums in agreement while Theo's eyes widen as if the most brilliant idea has just come to his mind.
“Bro, we should try it too! Well, when we get home.”
Wifies looks doubtful about this for a moment, as does Parrot. But the bird takes a few seconds to think, putting a heart reaction on the photo Spoke sent before responding.
“We could try,” Parrot agrees, happy about the upcoming possible opportunity to spend more time with his two best friends.
Eventually, Wifies shrugs, “I don't see why not,” earning a cheer from Theo.