Author's Note: Be forewarned, raunchiness and foul language. Naughty humor and sex-related moments can be blamed on my fixation on sex-fused 80s films. Customer woes can be related to my job in retail. If this chapter had an opening soundtrack, I imagine it would be playing Kung Fury's 'True Survivor' with David Hasselhoff. Mwuahaha. Chocobo Chow Happy Meals for eeeeveryone!
The Host
CHAPTER 1: Chocobo Chow
The promise the wolf had brought was written in its ice-blue eyes. And that promise was despair. During a great blizzard, a massive wolf unlike any other had appeared at the outskirts of a sleepy town. The Fenrir. It had harbored no fear. No sense of right and wrong. Its notions of compassion and forgiveness were limited to the natural laws of the beast.
On this particular night, the massive animal drew low and closer to its small prey; some blond-haired child with similar blue eyes and an aggressive behavior that matched its own. That child… He had barely held onto his rusty broadsword. Yet, he'd managed to stare directly into the predator's eyes and not wavered. The open wilderness was their audience. Only in this place did one primal rule exist: to kill or be killed.
Their silhouettes had circled around each other in a slow waltz while the blizzard raged around them. Inches of snow were crushed by bloodied paws. From dark gray skies, flakes of ice had fallen. It'd been cold that winter night with visibility near to none. Both participants had waited for the other to make the first move. Hunter against hunter. With strings of saliva over its wet fangs, there was a cloud of cold air from the wolf's parted mouth. A steady growl gradually had developed from the pits of its stomach until the mouth stretched wide and a single, earth-shattering howl echoed across the land. It was a battle cry. Tightening his grip over the sword's handle, the child had briefly shut his eyes to prepare for the inevitable. Blood was spilt that winter night.
Despair. It was a promise the child would never forget. He'd endure it the rest of his life, including today.
"I didn't order the Chocobo Spicy Sandwich, idiot! I ordered the Number One! The Super-Duper Chilly Supreme Chocobo Chow! How can you get that wrong? Did you even graduate from high school? Or are you one of those damn country boys from some backwater, washed-up town that keep coming here and polluting our fine city with your hillbilly IQ?"
A loud-mouthed mother of five in the mini-van yelled a slur of obscenities outside the drive-thru window. Strings of spit flew. Thin lips shaped into a snarl. She tossed a paper bag out of her car and spilled all of its edible contents over the driveway. Five freckle-faced children sat at the backseat, too occupied with their PHS games and movies to pay attention. Their electronic devices beeped, clicked, and banged nonstop throughout the whole commotion.
It was a Friday night, that special time of the week where positive and negative energies violently clashed and spewed throughout the streets of Midgar City. The entire block of Twenty-First Street composed of brightly lit, rainbow-colored fast-food restaurants, coffee shops, bookstores, and PHS service providers. They stacked on top of each other in various-sized cubicle sets, piling as high as the eye could see. Elevators and ridiculously tall spiraled, gated staircases allowed access to the extreme higher levels. Several of these cubicle skyscrapers dominated Twenty-First Street.
The neighborhood was a giant cluster-fuck of commercialism where Gil was revered as the holy messiah. At the lower levels, steam evaporated from rusted metal gates and pipes. Cars honked through slicked roads. Billboard signs and words flashed with neon pinks, yellows, and blues. Couples strolled, some wearing disposable pleated face masks to prevent airborne disease. Finely dressed pretty boys stalked the streets with their PHS and passed out business cards. It had all the making of a promising Friday.
A cheery upbeat melody drifted in the air. Its lively whistles came from an animatronic in the form of a massive, yellow Chocobo with crossed-eyes. The iconic mascot stood at the ground level of Twenty-First Street. Proudly waving a red flag, every ten seconds the robot automatically warked and promised all customers a tasty meal for a great price. It stood next to a colorfully designed cubicle with an attached glassed playground. Wark-wark-wark. Chocobo Chow: Midgar City's finest fast food restaurant. Satisfaction guaranteed.
The mother's beady brown eyes glared up at a blond-haired teenager who stood at the opposite side of the drive-thru window. He claimed a noble height of five-foot-seven with a lean frame. Clear-blue, intense eyes were dimmed by years of fatigue and mild irritation. On his Chocobo Chow badge read the name, Strife. A fitting name. One of the mother's children lowered a backseat window and popped his head out. Dressed as a cowboy, the child aimed his water pistol straight at the teenager's goofy looking hat. He squeezed the trigger and sprayed a thick line of water at it. The child giggled.
Cloud Strife didn't say a word. He closed his window and effectively silenced the sounds of the woman still yelling at him and the brat now laughing. Sound control: it was beautiful. Already a Clean-Up Unit had been dispatched and appeared outside. The tiny robot beeped loudly while it tended to the mess on the driveway. On the side of its metal face was a diamond-shaped logo: Shinra Electric Power Company.
According to the digital clock on the wall close by, it was past eight o' clock. Already, Cloud hated his evening shift. He was already tired from a strenuous afternoon class. And now this crap.
Chocobo Chow was a popular food chain, one of the few with a drive-thru in Midgar. But it brought out a lot of difficult customers. Most of them arrived with an attitude; all self-entitled assholes who acted like Gods while they rode the ass of a boy earning seven-fifteen an hour. Cloud wasn't perfect. Mistakes happened. But if he forgot to add in that extra packet of sauce or plastic utensils in their happy meal, heaven help him, he was quickly reminded of his failure as a human being.
Annoyed, Cloud rechecked the order he had filed on the computer for the rotten woman outside. Then he glanced at the holographic interface menu that projected close to him. His fingers waved and clicked a few options. Granted, he wasn't the sharpest man in the planet. But he certainly wasn't deaf or illiterate. The woman ordered the Number One. The Number One was the Chocobo Spiced Sandwich. The Number Ten was the Super-Duper Chilly Supreme Chocobo Chow. Apparently, she got the two numbers mixed up. But that wasn't her problem; it was his. Always his.
Outside, the giant Chocobo animatronic warked out loud, as if to remind Cloud of the company's policies and his incompetence. The customer was always right. The customer came first. The customer's needs surpassed the wants of his entire existence. Cloud could've confirmed the order earlier on and saved them both the time and hassle. But the damn impatient woman had cut him off and sped up to his window before he got the chance.
"I hate humanity…" Cloud muttered and refilled the order in his computer. His fingers practically pounded on each button.
"I hear ya," a coworker agreed a few feet away. Chewing on a fry, a chubby teenager stood at the prep station in front of a large glass case. Inside a large glass case, robotic arms assembled ten burgers. With a half-cocked grin, the boy added, "But humanity did give us instant ramen and cybersex. So there is hope for our species after all, yeah?"
Cloud saw the toothy grin on the young man's face widen. Wedge, a slacker who would likely never graduate from high school or get laid, enjoyed only two things in life: food and porn. His collection of hardcore Wutai smut was almost as large and impressive as his round belly. Wedge's close buddy and partner-in-crime was Biggs, another coworker at Chocobo Chow. The two were inseparable. Had Biggs not been assigned to delivery runs tonight, he'd be working the window and exchanging dirty jokes with Wedge right now.
On occasion Cloud hung out with the two misfits. They were okay guys who wanted to conquer the world and score with an indefinite number of women. Cloud often visited the arcades with them at the Slums. Together, the trio overdosed themselves with soda pops and impossible dreams.
Wedge briefly glanced at the woman outside Cloud's window. Despite the sound proof glass, she was still on a rampage. He had also overheard her say the Number One. However, the self-proclaimed rolly-polly already knew it was pointless to argue with customers or prove Cloud's innocence. Wedge punched in a few buttons on a console. In front of him, the robotic appendages inside the glassed chamber began to assemble the Super-Duper Chilly Supreme Chocobo Chow.
"I'm gonna take a piss," Cloud notified and removed his headset. "Watch the window for me."
Wedge showed him a thumbs-up gesture.
Cloud headed to the men's restrooms, needing a small break and chance to relieve himself. He passed by the restaurant's seating area. Chocobo Chow's customers consisted of the usual clientele. There were the crying babies who carelessly tossed their food in the air, uncontrollable brats who ran amuck in the playground, parents nagging and yelling, club hoppers getting ready for a hard night of partying, and college-bound students on a limited food budget. It was never a dull moment with these customers.
Briefly, Cloud shut his eyes. The whole environment was an eyesore. Chocobo Chow's bright interior lighting gave him a mild headache, likewise the wacky color schemes and patterns on the walls. And everywhere he turned were images and sounds of Chocobos. He'd long since developed an urge to strangle them in his sleep. Glassed walls at the back of the restaurant revealed an outdoor children's playpen. It came complete with Chocobo swings, Chocobo riders, Chocobo monkey bars, and a Chocobo slide. Cloud slipped past two arguing parents and arrived at the men's restroom; his sanity barely intact.
"Welcome, Chocobo," an automated high-pitched voice greeted from a ceiling speaker. "Wark-Wark!"
An annoying child-like tune played from the restroom's speakers. Cloud wasn't surprised to find the area a complete mess. On the sink's mirrors someone had scribbled tasteless words with ketchup and mustard. Meanwhile, two Clean-Up Units whirled back and forth on their roller wheels, mopping overflowed water from a malfunctioned toilet. Their cautionary tell-tale lights blinked nonstop and informed customers about the wet floors. Another Clean-Up robot tended to a mountain of discarded paper towels that hadn't been properly placed inside the dispenser.
Cloud muttered a curse word under his breath. He quickly looked away from a urinal next to him. Not flushed, it still contained a murky piss-yellow liquid inside its bowl. Cloud already dreaded tonight's clean-up. His brows shifted evenly when he heard soft noises coming from the last restroom stall.
Behind the closed door there was heavy breathing followed by the loud popping sounds of an eager, wet mouth. Cloud suspected what was going on and approached the restroom stall. Curiosity prompted him to peek inside through a small hinge opening. He could see a kneeled man in front of another male who stood with his back against a wall. The head between his legs bobbed up and down, faster and faster.
"Yummy, yummy," the automated voice advertised from above, "You've never tasted a fully loaded Chocobo hotdog like ours. Order yours today! It's finger-lickin' good. Wark-wark!"
The loud sucking noises from the other side continued until Cloud knocked on the door. "Hey. Lovebirds. Get a hotel room. There're kids here."
The sucking sounds stopped. A few seconds later, the door unlatched and two men coated with perspiration and halfway-zipped pants appeared. Cloud took a step back to give them room. He tried not to focus on the first man that came out first, especially when the corner of his mouth leaked with milky white drops. The young man quickly wiped it off with the back of his hand and exited the restroom. His companion followed shortly after, sheepishly smiling at the Chocobo Chow employee.
Cloud suddenly felt awkward. He didn't say a word nor moved from his spot. Instinctively licking his chapped lips, Cloud set the odd reaction aside and went to the last urinal against a wall. He unzipped his fly, took proper aim with both hands, and conducted his original business.
"Remember to wash your hands before you leave," continued the voice above, "A clean Chocobo is a happy Chocobo! Wark-wark!"
More annoying suggestions and advertisements emerged from the speakers above while Cloud urinated. Some of the words were repeated in other languages for the bilingual population. Cloud learned it all by heart. For three years it was the same crap. He knew how to say 'please dispose of trash' and 'never talk with your mouth full' in Wutai. It was probably one of the few perks of working full-time in a shitty place that paid only minimum wage with no healthcare benefits. When Cloud finished his leak he washed his hands with foamy hand soap that smelled of raspberry.
Looking up at the sink's mirror, Cloud surveyed his colorful yet bizarre image. Water-blue eyes. Wild blonde hair. A teen trapped beneath layers of absurd clothing and misery. The Chocobo Chow uniform was certainly the stuff of nightmares, containing a stark yellow buttoned shirt with blood-red trousers. On the sleeve of Cloud's top was a sewn image of the restaurant's mascot: a yellow fat bird that triumphantly waved a red flag. To Cloud, it always looked like a Chocobo humping on a stick. The fact his last name had been stenciled below such a crude image made him clench his teeth. The hat itself blossomed with yellow feathers, each poking out from the top like a Mohawk. Two strange, wing-like shapes sprang out from the sides while a horrendous, plushie-sewn head of a Chocobo appeared in front of the cap's crown. Cloud sniffed his uniform once and made a face. Despite the fact he hand washed his uniform three times yesterday, used extra soap, and sprayed it with a fresh fragrance, it still smelled of grease.
Disgusting. Each time Cloud slipped on his uniform he felt like he was trading his soul in the process.
Cloud shut off the faucet and dried his hands. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time. Pinching both of his cheeks, the snarky teenager imitated the happy high-pitched voice from the speakers: "Hello, welcome to Chocobo Chow! I'm Cloud Strife. How can I royally fuck up your order today?"
Cloud tucked in his shirt under iron-pressed pants and made sure he looked presentable to the public. Considering his atrocious attire, though, being presentable was hardly possible. Cloud washed off the nasty words on the mirrors with a paper towel and manually flushed the urinal that reeked of sour piss. While the Clean-Up Units continued to mop, he pulled up a digital interface on the stall's door. Overriding a few commands, the words 'Out-Of-Commissioned' successfully appeared in red on the door. The stall electronically locked itself from future use. He'd deal with the clogged toilet later.
Satisfied, Cloud finally exited the restroom to return to his station. He crossed the seating area and arrived at the other side when, abruptly, a customer near the cash registers made a scene.
"This meat is undercooked! Unbelievable! Look at this! It's raw!"
Perfect. Another customer; another problem. Turning to the direction, Cloud saw a disgruntled man point a finger at a female coworker.
Few people addressed the girl by her formal name, Elena. She preferred Ele'. For the most part, the teenaged punk girl kept to herself. With black eyeliner and cherry black lipstick, Ele' stood at the registers with arms crossed. Sure, there were the mandatory dress code protocols in Chocobo Chow but she ignored every one of them and indulged in her creative compromises. Half of her head was shaved off and revealed a stylized tattoo. The other section showcased locks of natural blond dyed to a vibrant blue. Several buttons from her uniform's top were left undone to reveal a bright pink provocative blouse with chains of crosses around her neck. Ele' certainly wasn't the damsel-in-distress type.
From what Cloud recalled, she used to work at a rough bar in the Slums, one that catered to the Turks. Ele's father also served as an officer in Midgar's army and now taught at the Academy. Perhaps it was her confident attitude that allowed the boss to overlook her many offenses. That and the long line of male customers she continuously attracted to their lowly establishment in Twenty-First Street.
Working as tonight's cashier, Ele' displayed an unreadable look on her face while chewing on a stick of gum. The army brat didn't flinch when the customer's tone sounded harsh. Nor did she verbally respond back to his accusations until she surveyed the rest of his oh-so-terrible meal herself. The basket of fries was empty; same for the large-sized beverage. Only a few crumbs of a dessert that accompanied the meal remained. The Chocobo burger itself was nearly gone; a single bite left. Ele' returned her attentions back to the man. Her chestnut-brown eyes didn't blink nor look away.
"The meat is just terrible," the man griped again and shoved his tray of food toward her. He opened the remains of the burger to show her its insides. "I'm not paying for this worthless crap. I want a refund."
From his station, Cloud narrowed his eyes and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Wonderful. It was another cheapskate asshole. They had a lot of them these days. Rather than pay for their meal like everyone else they preferred to exploit their restaurant's policies for a freebie. Their prices were already low, but for these people nothing could ever be cheaper than free food.
Cloud took a step forward, halfway tempted to give this customer a piece of his mind. It wouldn't be the first time he received a write-up or potential assault charges for punching a customer. Ele' glanced at his direction, however, and silently shook her head. Cloud stepped back.
"Well?" the man up front demanded. He ignored the nasty, intimidating look on Cloud's face. "Are you going to fix this and give me back my Gil?"
"So let me get this straight, sir," Ele' spoke at last. Slowly. Precisely. While there was a long line of people still in front it didn't bother her. "You want a refund for a meal you practically finished?"
"Is that a problem, Missy? This meal was not to my satisfaction." The customer pointed at a projecting four-dimensional image of a Chocobo. The words 'satisfaction guaranteed' spun above its head. The disgruntled man grabbed the small remains of his burger and slapped it down on the counter, as if to further prove his point. "I want my damn refund. Now."
Ele' merely blinked. She stayed quiet and grabbed the plastic fork from his tray. Her aim was perfect. Stabbing the fork directly at the miniscule space between his fingers and the small burger bite, she dragged the discarded burger toward her. Ele' replied back with a calm smile, "That's no problem at all, sir. I'll personally see that the issue is resolved."
Ele's reassurance sounded more like a serious death threat. The man yelped and pulled his hand away. A hair closer and she would've stabbed his fingers. Quickly, he made for the exit but screamed, "I-I'm suing this place!"
Cloud bit back a smirk while Wedge downright chuckled. Ele' was a strange girl but always fun to watch. She didn't take crap from anyone. Perhaps her rebellious nature was a response to her rigid upbringing and family's high expectations. Or maybe it was that typical angst every teenager experienced while growing up and finding a questionable future ahead. Whatever it was, Ele' popped like a firecracker.
When Ele' briefly turned and flashed Cloud a smile, he felt his cheeks grow warm. That particular smile summoned a random, crude memory from the past. It was the same smile Ele' had given him during a hand-job. The sexual act didn't mean anything serious between them, especially when she already had a boyfriend. It was just something two hot-blooded teenagers did in the heat of the moment. Like smoking pot or eating high-calorie, fatty food.
To this day, Cloud couldn't figure out what appealed to him most: the hand-job itself or the complete randomness of it. Ele's casual, carefree look at life was something he admired and wanted to have for himself. So far his life consisted of fulfilling orders in Chocobo Chow, squeezing in time for General Ed classes, and personal training at the rooftop of his rat-hole apartment, despite complaints from the asshole landlord.
Within seconds, Ele' looked away and resumed her task as cash registrar. It prompted Cloud to return to his own job at the window. He realized the Super-Duper Chilly Supreme Chocobo Chow order was completed at the prep station. Wrapped in flimsy paper, Wedge had the order in his hand with a strange grin on his face. Cloud cocked a brow at him. He hoped that wasn't the foul woman's Supreme. It was ten minutes past due since he went to take a leak and left Wedge to deal with it. Cloud glanced out the window and felt his blood turn cold. The woman was still parked outside. Her eyes were wild with rage.
"Wedge…" Cloud started as he slipped on his headset. "I really hope you gave Minivan-Mom her Supreme Chow already. Please tell me she's not out there because she's still waiting for it. She'll run me over with her van for sure."
The big boy grinned. "Hah, actually no, I didn't."
"What the hell, Wedge? Why didn't you? I left you in charge of the window."
"You know I still have trouble with the register. I couldn't ring up the other people after her. Besides, you weren't gone that long. I figured I could wait for you while I made the new orders coming in."
Cloud stared at Wedge. His lips pulled inward to form a thin line. He didn't know whether to yell or kill him. Cloud half-suspected Wedge simply didn't want to get chewed out by the nasty woman outside and therefore, waited for his return. He was a good guy and always meant well. But he was also an absentminded chicken-wuss who rarely functioned by himself without assistance. Even when Wedge worked at Chocobo Chow longer than Cloud, he still couldn't run the registers.
A quick glance at an overhead monitor and Cloud moaned. He covered his eyes with a palm. There was a long line of cars waiting after the minivan. A few of them honked their horns. Cloud knew he was going to be on the receiving end of an ass-whooping tonight due to the long delays.
"Damn it, Wedge," he addressed through gritted teeth, "Now we got a long line of people also waiting." Cloud held out his hand. "Give me her order right now before we get sued or I get assassinated."
Wedge held onto the Supreme Chow. "Ah, relax, Cloud. Like I said, I already prepped the other orders. I wrote them down. You just gotta type them up in the computer and scan their tat codes. Easy-peazy. So lighten up. Besides. I wanted you to be here to see the special condiment I'm gonna leave that bitch for giving you shit earlier." Wedge raised a finger to his nose, threatening to dig out something special. "It'll add to the flavor, I think."
Cloud quickly shook his head. It was a bad idea, a terrible idea. A thousand worse-case scenarios popped in his mind. By the time he opened his mouth to express any of them to Wedge, the blond teenager caught sight of a tall, overly muscular man at the corner of his eye. Cloud abruptly froze in place. Shit.
The shape of the man's head looked like a square, especially when he donned a ridiculous flattop haircut and thick sideburns. An awkward, bushy moustache decorated his mouth. Drooping down, it had a life of its own. The man's arms were massive and bulky while his chest was broad and puffed out.
A bear. A big-ass bear. That's what Cloud thought when he met Chocobo Chow's manager during his interview three years ago. An avid bodybuilder who visited the gym in the Slums, the man wore a well-ironed business suit that appeared two sizes too small for his large frame. The top buttons of his cotton shirt were left undone with coarse curls of pectoral hair popping out.
Cloud made a face when the manager turned toward Wedge's direction. No doubt, the manager heard about the line of impatient customers waiting at the drive-thru and wanted an update on the situation. The gesture proved pointless though. Cloud already knew his manager put up an excellent front when it came to problems that arose but rarely stuck around to actually fix them.
Wedge remained clueless of the guy's presence, meanwhile. The big boy's back turned to the boss, Cloud's coworker inched his finger closer up his nose and snickered loudly. Cloud was ready to warn him but the manager now stood right behind Wedge. He placed two giant hands on the kid's shoulders.
"Bubby!" the manager announced, "Now, now. Mr. Mukki just knoooows you're not about to do anything naughty with that burger. Riiiiiight?"
Startled, Wedge nearly leapt in the air. He did an about-face. His eyes shot wide opened. "Er, ah. Mr. Mukki! Um. Uh! S-so nice to s-see you this fine evening."
"Isn't it?" Mr. Mukki grinned back with shiny-white teeth. His heavily tanned face practically glowed. Still smiling, he pinched Wedge's chubby cheeks and pressed their foreheads together. "My, my, my… The stars are out. The babies are smiling. The lovers are kissing. Mr. Mukki is very pleased with tonight."
"Er. Y-yea, sir. Awesome."
"In fact, bubby, the only thing that could ruin Mr. Mukki's fine evening is if Mukki found one of his bubbies doing something naughty."
"R-right, Mr. Mukki."
"You're not doing anything naughty. Right, bubby?"
"Of c-course not, sir."
"Because only fun naughty makes Mr. Mukki happy. Not bad naughty. No one wants to upset Mr. Mukki with bad naughty things. Riiiight?"
"Absolutely not, sir." Wedge took a deep swallow. His eyes widened in horror when he soon found himself held tightly in Mr. Mukki's arms. The bear hug nearly sucked the life out of him.
"That's my good boy. Very good boy. Mr. Mukki is pleased."
At his station, Cloud stood in silence with mouth slightly parted. He forgot to breathe and merely watched Wedge struggle and gasp for air while locked in place by Mr. Mukki's strong arms.
Why Mr. Mukki referred to himself in the third person, called everyone bubby, and enjoyed giving bear hugs was beyond Cloud's understanding. The man was a loon. Currently, a gloss of sweat had formed on the boss's forehead while his dorky moustache stretched out. He had a habit of sweating a lot. It was why the restaurant's temperature was often set to frigid cold despite customer complaints. It was likely from the steroids he secretly injected.
About the only redeeming quality Mr. Mukki had going for him was his fun-loving, open-minded, very forgiving nature. By all accounts, they all should've been fired. Hardly any of them could consistently keep true to Chocobo Chow's rules. But Mr. Mukki kept his gang of misfits. They were his bubbies. He ignored the constant customer complaints and gave his bubbies an infinite amount of chances to get their act straight. Of all the places Cloud had applied to for a job, Mr. Mukki was the only one who took him in, even without a high school degree or job experience.
Slowly, Cloud looked away from the strange scene between Wedge and Mr. Mukki. He readjusted his Chocobo hat to cover as much of his face as possible and hoped the manager wouldn't notice him.
"Ah, bubby!" Mr. Mukki suddenly called out. "Mr. Mukki seeeeeees yoooooou!"
Fat chance. No sooner did Cloud look away did the manager quickly abandon Wedge. It was now Cloud's turn to receive Mr. Mukki's infamous bear hug. Pulled in close to the man's hairy chest, Cloud coughed. The manager's strong cologne made it difficult to breathe. The boy struggled to put a bit of distance between them but Mr. Mukki merely laughed and grasped him even harder. Cloud felt like a ragged doll.
"Don't think Mr. Mukki has forgotten about you, bubby," the manager exclaimed and pulled the blond-haired teen closer. "Ooooh, you're so soft. So tender, bubby! Mr. Mukki can just… eat you."
Cloud's cheeks flushed red. Everyone in the restaurant knew how much of a weirdo Chocobo Chow's manager could be. Mr. Mukki sat in his office all day to supposedly complete payroll, work on upcoming schedules, and conduct other ho-hum duties. In truth, he was usually found lifting weights or doing bench presses in his office. Anything but his job. The man was more invested in his passion for bodybuilding than actually managing a restaurant. It left his staff the burden of the work load.
"Tomorrow is your birthday, right, bubby?" Mr. Mukki eagerly asked.
Cloud bit into his lower lip, feeling reluctant to answer but obligated to anyway. "Yes, sir."
"Oooh! How splendid! Seventeen! A big man, bubby!" The manager hummed happily to himself. "To be seventeen again… To be reckless and have tons of fun. Mr. Mukki was quite the sport in his heyday. Mr. Mukki discovered a lot about himself that year. A lot…" The big guy paused. A mischievous smile formed on his lips, especially when he looked at Cloud with the look of a hungry man. The moment passed before he eventually asked, "You doing anything for your birthday, bubby?"
From his peripheral vision, Cloud could see Wedge shake his head again and again and again. Cloud already knew about the birthday get-together his coworkers planned for tomorrow. However, it was important the matter remain undisclosed from the manager. Mr. Mukki had a terrible habit of tagging along whenever the crew wanted to do something together. He didn't care if he was twice their age and brought along his gym buddies who were just as weird as him, he'd crash the party anyway and pretend he was one of them. It was embarrassing.
"I'm, uh, gonna watch a movie at home and go to bed," Cloud lied.
"Going to bed alone?" Mr. Mukki asked with a terrifying grin on his face. He immediately laughed it off when Cloud frowned. "Ah, bubby. That sounds… so lonely." Mr. Mukki hugged Cloud even tighter. In a lower voice, he asked, "Want some company, bubby? Mr. Mukki can treat you to something nice."
Cloud's throat went dry. "Er, um. No, sir. Thanks but, I'll be fine."
"You suuuuure, bubby? Mr. Mukki can show you a good birthday time."
Behind him, Wedge turned pale. Cloud's own skin crawled with an unpleasant shiver. He always knew Mr. Mukki was a creeper. Any time the manager had to call someone into his office for a stupid errand it was always him. And each time Cloud arrived he found Mr. Mukki in a compromising position, usually in the middle of a what-the-hell exercise activity; all full of sweat with only his tight-fitting briefs on. Coincidence? Cloud doubted it, especially when Mr. Mukki often asked him to join his Young Bubby club. Whatever the hell that was.
While the thought of pressing sexual harassment charges against the manager did cross Cloud's mind, he was too embarrassed to follow up with it. He didn't want the world to know he was being sexually pursued by six-foot hairy bear that wore boxers in the office and talked in the third person. So long as Mr. Mukki gave him hours and a weekly pay check, Cloud was willing to put up with his overly eccentric and perverted manager. He needed this job.
Cloud shifted his body to the side in another effort to break free. For a moment, his thigh pressed against something hard. He knew it wasn't a pencil, not when Mr. Mukki suddenly giggled. Quickly, Cloud readjusted his position to push away from it. Desperate to get out of his bulky arms, he leaned to one side and informed, "Um, sir… We got a line of customers waiting. And I've got orders to fill."
The manager blinked once. Then twice. As if snapping out of his daze at last, he nodded several times. "Ah, yes, bubby! That's right, the customers! They come first. No more playing around. No more dilly-dally. Get to work, get to work. Make Mr. Mukki proud. Mr. Mukki wants to see smiles on every customer's face."
At last, he pulled away from Cloud. Both teenaged boys exchanged a look of relief. Wedge scurried to the other side of a counter. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Mr. Mukki as possible. Meanwhile, Cloud wanted a shower. Ten of them. He could still smell Mr. Mukki's cheap cologne on him. As their flamboyant manager took his first steps out of their area, the man temporarily stopped.
"Bubbies, be on your good behavior. Remember: Mr. Mukki is alwaaaaaays watching you." With a finger, the manager pointed at his left eye. Then he pointed at something in the ceiling.
Both teenagers saw a camera staring directly down at them. Smiling, Mr. Mukki waved goodbye and walked away. Cloud felt the color in his face drain. Despite Mr. Mukki's physical absence the majority of the time, his presence was still felt everywhere. He had installed a countless number of cameras throughout the establishment, some reportedly hidden. All video feedback was sent directly to his office. It served as a means of security and to keep an eye on the staff. However, Cloud glanced at the camera with a weary expression on his face. He had his suspicions.
"Baaah…" Wedge suddenly spat out loud. His eyes narrowed when he looked at the window.
Cloud turned to see what caught his attention. Outside, the annoying mother-of-five started slapping on the glass with the palm of her hand. She was still waiting for her order that was now fifteen minutes late. The sound-proof glass blocked out the words she spewed from her wretched mouth. Wedge quickly gave Cloud the Number Ten to shoo her away. The other teen inhaled sharply and prepared himself. In silence, he finally opened the window and held out her order.
"Fucking Goddamn hick! You made me wait over an hour on purpose! You little shit!" The woman snatched the grease-stained paper-bag from Cloud's hand. "This is the worst customer service I have ever gotten! I am going to put in a big complaint! You will lose everything! Everything, you hear!"
"Of course, ma'am," Cloud responded in a flat tone. "You'll find all customer service-related information at the end of your receipt. Visit our website as well to download a complimentary coupon. Have a nice evening. Wark-wark-wark."
"Smart-ass!" The van's engine roared. Immediately, the woman drove off; tires squealed all the way.
More cars honked; a few customers popped their heads out of the window and yelled. There were at least twelve of them in the drive-thru. Above the racket, the annoying Chocobo animatronic issued its deals for more customers passing by. At the main eating area a kid vomited and cried non-stop.
Cloud hung his head down. Dropping off the edge of twelve-story-high building sounded really tempting right now. Wedge approached his coworker from behind and patted him on the shoulder.
"Meh. Look at it this way, Cloud, in a thousand years from now the world will likely end and no one will give a shit about Super-Duper Chilly Supreme Chocobo Chows."
Cloud returned to his station and stared at the computer in front of him. Orders after orders. He could see his entire life flash before his eyes. It consisted of Chocobos and customer discounts. He sighed. "Wedge. Remind me why I'm doing this again."
"To pay your way until you join the army, bang super-hot babes, save the world from catastrophe, and never have to deal with self-entitled bitches like Minivan-Mom ever again." Wedge stole a few fries from someone's order and stuffed them into his large mouth. Then he headed back to the prep area to work on the new requests that came into the kitchen.
Cloud took a deep breath.
His sour mood still didn't improve by the time the next customer arrived at his window, but he forced a smile on his face anyway and went through his regular routine. 'Would you like fries with that?' This line… It had become his life's motto thus far. At times Cloud hated himself for it, especially when he gazed at all the crying babies, loud brats, and annoying parents.
Admittedly, he was envious of all these people. No matter their background or age, they were legitimate residents of Midgar City. They all shared a decent chance of a good life here in a thriving metropolis. As for him? He was a homeschooled, country boy with not even a high school degree to his name. He worked at Chocobo Chow and resided below the Plate to make ends meet. Only a stubborn thought, actually an intangible dream, kept him going.
With a handheld device, Cloud scanned the barcode tattoo on a female customer's wrist to digitally collect her Gil and handed over the take-out bag. As the customer left, Cloud paused before closing his window. His blue eyes stared into the far distance.
Here was Midgar City: the crowning achievement of peaked human civilization. Its proud architects gloriously designed an industrial dreamscape composed of high-end fashion, progressive concepts, budding promises, and modern constructed perfection. Metal surfaces shined against the flares of neon lights. Skyscrapers stretched up for miles, many threatening to cut into the heavens. Large holographic billboards of attractive people and hotspots flashed and blinked from nearly every rooftop. A montage of power-juiced, innovatively designed cars followed the paths constructed for them.
In every direction, Cloud spotted a large Mako reactor. There were eight of them, each posted at the edge of the city. Impressive structures, they were. Massive. Sturdy. They supplied Midgar City her precious power and emitted bursts of raw green energy into the air. The way the Mako playfully danced, streamed, and shimmered above in the sky, it reminded Cloud of shooting stars. The reactors and city's designs, though, weren't the only highlights that held interest for him.
Standing tall and proud at the very center of Midgar City was Shinra's Headquarters: home of the strongest soldiers. A black chopper circled the heavily guarded complex while giant spotlights swayed back and forth from the ground.
It never failed. Each time Cloud reached the metallic surface of the Plate and saw this particular building, he felt inspired and renewed. This was why he came; why he endured. Many men traveled across the world to reach this location. Many shared his dream. Only a few actually succeeded and set foot inside Shinra Electric Power Company's complex. Behind those concrete walls and glass windows resided a future; his future.
A massive black truck suddenly pulled up to Cloud's window, blocking the view of the building. Heavy metal music blared from the truck's speakers. A stoner with green spiked hair nodded to Cloud and waited for his order. The Chocobo Chow employee composed himself, remembering where he was and his current duties. He scanned the man's wrist and handed out the customer his bag. When Cloud saw another customer already at the menu window through a monitor, he greeted her and set himself on auto-pilot mode.
"Welcome to Chocobo Chow. Wark. Wark. Wark. How can I serve you today? Would you like to hear about our specials?" A long pause. "Sure. And would you like fries with that?"