Meme Bakery Discord: Chapter 1

The hotel was a staggering seventy story skyscraper, with an exposed-metal facade and clear blue glass that glinted in the sunlight. For quad spires on each corner of the roof brought the tower up to 1,002 feet tall, making it among the tallest structures in the DDLC community. Two outdoor terraces, on the 40th and 60th floors respectively offered dazzling views of the city beyond.

Down below was the main plaza, an open concrete plaza stretching around the buildings foundation. It was quaint, complete with a statue fountain, lush trees and lots of sunlight. A favorite hangout spot for the Discord members, outside of the hotel's dining area and swimming area.

Hundreds of feet above on the rooftop, the Owner stood, leaning against the railings. Behind him was a fold out chair with a small umbrella table, a case of soda and a half-eaten club sandwich resting. Propped up against the table was the Owners weapon of choice, his trusty Marlin 1895 rifle, custom-fit with a scope and extended ammo clip. Good for trolls and hunting quail.

Owner stared down at the plaza, monitoring the activity below. A pair of binoculars hung around his neck, held up to his eyes. The plaza was fairly populated at this time of day. About a couple dozen of people were scattered around, chatting and lounging around. From this vantage point, nobody could see the Owner unless they squinted hard and actually looked. A great spot for recon. He could already spot out a couple of familiar faces; Curry, Firekeeper, Snowy, Isobel...people that have been with the server since it's dawn.

This was the Owners sort of refuge, a getaway. Only the staff knew he used this area. He technically wasn't even supposed to; ventilation and air conditioning units were housed on the roof, and it was normally off limits.  Thank God for admin privileges, or he wouldn't know what he'd do. He'd probably have to hang out in a stairwell or something, or ask Akira to make a custom channel for him.

Owner was slightly lean, 5’10, with solid black hair always (mostly) kept combed and relaxed. A pair of prescription glasses he never wore were tucked in his pocket. He wore a nice button-up shirt with a Jurassic Park T-shirt underneath it, and faded khakhi shorts down to his knees. He had decent enough looks, an odd mix of Hispanic and white DNA.

Owner (real name Mateo) established the Meme Bakery back in January, and it was initially intended as just a generic spam/alt account for himself. He eventually started to repost DDLC content, slowly ticking up in followers and likes. When he saw the chance to expand, he reformed the account and started striving on the quality of his content. He deleted all the old posts, and started to find only the best.

Of course, there were much bigger pages than his bakery. There was dokidoki_isokidoki, dokidokifanclub and only._.yuri, among others. Owner wasn't trying to challenge them, and he had mostly kept to himself, and not trying to outdo anyone (if he happened to, well, oh well).

Despite challenges, Owner always kept his edge. He had about 70 tabs open of DDLC content, and about 200 posts backed up for posting in his queue. And he was always on the prowl for new content, lurking around r/DDLC and other big groups and pages. In total, he had maybe around 700 DDLC-related pics saved on his phone (including, ahah, lewd ones).

In addition, he had his faithful staff who he couldn't ask better for. Akira, his first manager. He helped set up the server itself. There was Curry, and Zuccki and Lilly. All great people, who helped Owner keep the hotel up and running. He couldnt have wished for a better team.

Owner grabbed his Marlin from it's spot and walked back to his perch. He stared down the scope and surveyed the plaza. “Where are you…where are you…”

There he was. Sitting at a bench, reading a book was Firekeeper, one of the older members. About as tall as Akira, with longer hair and usually sporting a bleak gray hoodie and jeans.

I mean, technically had hadn't done anything wrong. He was a good member, active and followed the rules. But still, he always liked to mess with him, either by threatening to ban him or otherwise. It was, of course, in good fun. And Firekeeper knew that (hopefully).

Owner snickered as he loaded his Marlin with a tranquilizer bullet, MORO 709. Commonly used by zookeepers in taking down big game like elephants. Owner always wondered what would happen if a human took a hit from it…

Owner clicked the ammo clip and pointed the barrel down at the plaza. He slowly lined up his sights with Firekeeper, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. “This is what you get for reading, nerd.”

Owners finger rested on the trigger...

Hanging from his belt, Owner’s walkie talkie clicked. A male voice spoke. “Owner, you there?”

Owner glanced up from his scope.

That was Akira. A little taller than him, with more 'relaxed’ hair and better features. Good guy.

Owner reached for his walkie. “Yeah?”

“We got a bit of a situation down in the lobby.”

“What's happening?” Owner said, putting down his Marlin.

“Ahh, we got this group of new members sorta starting trouble. It's getting a little rowdy.”

“Can't you handle it?”

“They aren't listening to me too well. I'd prefer it if you came down and showed them how we do things.”

Owner paused.

“Yeah, I'll be right down. Just hold em off.”

“Got it. Thanks.” The walkie clicked off.

Owner pulled out his phone, and swiped to the camera app. A hologram popped up, displaying footage from the lobby. He could see Akira arguing with one of the members, with spiked hair and a wannabe greaser jacket. He looked very unpleasant, and reeked of trouble.

Owner sighed, and glanced down back at the plaza. Firekeeper was still sitting at the bench, reading his book.

Owner gritted his teeth. “Next time…” he muttered under his breath.

He turned around, facing back at his little snoozing area. He tossed the Marlin into the air, and made a slashing movement with his hand. Instantly, the gun vanished, now sent away to his personal inventory kept in the Cloud downstairs, in the underground basement.

He walked up to his table, and took another bite of his sandwich, sipped his drink. He picked up the two and tossed them into a nearby wastebin.

Combing his hair with his fingers, Owner started to make the walk downstairs to the elevators.

Time to show these punks who's bbos.