"Welcome to ChilliChanga™ can I take your order?" I blandly speak into my headset as I deep-fry a Mega Changa in a vat of 'cholesterol free' Bio-oil (we ran out of actual Bio-oil weeks ago so I have no idea what I'm using right now).

"Yeah can I have uhh… a Medium Lamb Changa. Oh, and hold the pepper beetles, and put on some extra chem-mayo. And uhh…" I sigh as I listen to the guy take a minute to spell out his order, a dozen different Changa's all with their own variation.

"That'll be a hundred and thirty eddies, please pay and pull up to the window," I say as I press a button to have the net transfer terminal delay his payment going through to give us some time and send the order to our two cooks.

"Fuck you Drake!" I hear Radd yell at me as he and Marquez frantically start cooking up more Changa's, if I see him spit in some of them, that's not my problem.

I pull out the crispy Mega Changa full of various nutrients, chemicals, that a person can eat without worrying about their health, probably not true but that's what they tell us to say if anyone asks. I wrap and send it off with a fake smile on my face, and take a moment to take breath as I wait for the large order to finis-

"Drake! I don't pay you to stand around doing nothing!" The nasally voice of my manager belts out over the sounds of the kitchen. The man himself shutting the door of his 'office' which is a closet he took over to do whatever he does during work hours. Lennie went in once… he never told us what he saw and he didn't come back the next day.

"Let Radd take over and go help dear Ashely up front," he orders before taking a gulp from his ever-present jumbo cup of NiCola.

I shrug before handing the headset over to the stressed-out teen who struggles to put it on while juggling the pan he's cooking the chili meat in and head out to the front, "And I better not catch you talking to her again!" He threatens, though it falls short given he splashes his drink on himself.

I snicker once the door closes and I'm out of view, leaving the slob to his cusses.

"Gooood mooorning my fellow Texans! It's Republic Rancher News here with your host, Doug Dimmedome! Today's weather is looking to be the best we've had in years with record low smog in the air, leaving us with plenty of sunshine which you should go enjoy at Austin's Funtime Pool Extravaganza for a low low price of 50 eddies an hour," half-heartedly listening to Doug go on in his signature 10-gallon hat in the TV in the corner, I gaze over the restaurant full of blue-collars inhaling their lunch in their short break before heading back out to work.

I go to the register beside Ashely who's taking orders robotically and I copy her and plaster the same fake smile once more.

"Welcome to ChilliChanga™ can I take your order?"

"Oh my god why can't Bill take a hint!" Ashely complains to me in a whisper, dropping her smile as our manager walks away in some sort of self-satisfaction back to his office.

I pat her shoulder commiseratingly, "You should have Leon come by again, he doesn't bother you for a while whenever he comes around."

"Ugh I wish, but he has work and won't get a day off for at least two weeks," she groans out, slumping onto the register.

Rush hour long finished, and with it we finally have a chance to take a break between orders. Officially we're supposed to get a lunch break, but in reality they make our time between taking orders count as 'break'.

"And onto local news, street racing has increased by 200% compared to last year, making 2059 the greatest year for our pastime, heck, there was even one last night and what a race it was! But that same race has brought back up a longstanding argument by the Join NUSA movement that our free road laws are too loose and open to abuse, that it'll be safer for Texans if we have more restricted road laws! Restricted they say! As you can tell viewers, this stance is not at all one our station nor do I personally support. Let the communists up north slave away for their masters, unable to exercise their free will on the roads built on their backs. We're the ones truly free on this continent and we won't let some scum sucking vultures from Militech try to have a say in our country! Now a word from our sponsors."

I hum along the catchy tune of the Petrochem ad before Ashely shifts and peers up at me with a side-eye.

"Sooo… I heard a little something from my gals at the race last night. You wouldn't have some juicy detes about the guy they saw tearing up the race in a beater now, would you?" She teases, which I respond with a weak grin, knowing she figured out who exactly their talking about.

"Well, if I knew something about him, I would definitely tell you," I hear the front door slide open with a jingle, "but unfortunately, I didn't get a good look so I can't say much about that nova driver of the 2045 Thorton Colby C240T he drove for his first ever race," I see her grin at my non-confirmation before turning to the approaching customer.

"Welcome to Chilli-" I stop myself when I see the Nova pointed between my eyes.

"A-a-alright fu-fuck-face! Don't mo-move!" The guy looks like the average construction worker we get around here, having gorilla arms and even wearing a safety vest and a NotSoHard Hardhat™ but looking at the black veins spread across his neck he's probably high off some chem filled drug which explains his stutters and slurring.

I do my best to stay completely still as Ashely yelps beside me when the robber turns to look at her, though it seems he kept enough sense not to fully turn away from me, not that I was going to try anything either way.

"You g-girl. Empty the register, n-n-now!" He ends by throwing a plastic bag onto the counter.

With wide-eyes she carefully follows the man's orders, taking care not to do anything too quick given the guy doesn't look like he cares about trigger-discipline.

"Hey! Why don't I hear you two working up there!" And of course, the slob decides to barrel through the door at the worst time possible.

It takes a second for both to register the other, one due to the drugs coursing through his veins and the other due to the sheer amount of NiCola no doubt frying his nerves. But when it does, Bill decides to do the stupid thing, dropping his drink he reaches down to the holster hidden behind a layer of his fat.

The gun pointed at me swings away and I take the chance to tackle into Ashely, falling safely behind the counter with a yelp of pain. Bill doesn't get a chance to finish pulling out his gun because as soon -Bang bang bang- as we touch the ground lead starts flying through the air.

Thump

I watch as the blob of meat falls to the ground, meeting his cybereyes as the light in them fade to nothing, signifying his death.

"Shit! Shit shit shit!" The robber, and now murderer, curses out as I hear him pull the bag off the counter and beats off in a sprint. Me and Ashely stay hidden behind the counter, taking in deep breaths for another minute after the door closes with a jingle.

I just sit there staring into the dead eyes of Bill, a gonk that was just yelling at me less than half an hour ago and is now dead on the floor of a fast-food restaurant who probably don't even remember he exists.

"Your manager… whatever his name is, has been found guilty of embezzling company profits, his assets have been seized and will be used as recompense for his crimes," the suited man clinically says as a pair of DeadMeat™ movers roll the covered carcass past us and into their van. It took even quicker for them to forget him than I thought

"A hundred eddies he ends up in a SCOP farm," Ashely whispers to me as we watch the door shut.

"No bet," I respond dryly, if you live in a city, its pretty easy to figure out where exactly your food comes from and its usually not something you wanna know.

The corpo clears his throat to get our attention back, "Now due to his actions and the current circumstance, corporate has decided for the best for your mental and physical health to let the four of you go. As per your contract, none of you are eligible for termination benefits nor do you have any legal grounds to pursue an unlawful termination so it's requested for the best of all that you do not pursue that avenue. Questions?" He drops with an empty smile.

It takes a second for me to process it, but to be honest? I don't really care. I do need the money, but with potential for higher paying gigs, and at that from racing that I actually enjoy? Well, it doesn't take much thought to decide that it doesn't matter to me.

Ashley doesn't look too torn up about losing the job as well, though she did tell me she was going to quit at the end of the week, saying she got a job over at Leon's as a secretary. Marquez though? He looks like his puppy was shot in front of him, but given I've found out over the past few weeks that he isn't exactly legally in the country, it makes sense he doesn't speak up.

"But its just a murder, its not that big of a deal! Won't you guys need workers when you open tomorrow?!" Radd asks in desperation.

"As I said, your termination was carefully decided after considering the impact of this incident to your health. Now due to this coincidence, it has been decided that we will be testing robotic workers in one of our locations, specifically this location. Estimates predict that it will bring in an additional 2% in profit after maintenance costs, hence there being no need to hire any new workers. Now, no more questions? Have a good day and remember, ChilliChanga™ is family and we hope to see you again as customers!" He ends in a chipper tone before spinning on a heel and entering his purple Alvarado, letting his driver/bodyguard shut the door behind him before driving away.

I awkwardly exchange a glance with Ashely as Radd starts sobbing in the middle of the parking lot and quietly leave him be, Marquez going on his own way with his head low.

"So that just happened," she says flatly as we walk down the sidewalk.

"Yeah, well what can you do. Though it does look like you won't get a chance to sucker punch Bill like you wanted, unless of course you're going to follow his corpse till you get a chance," I say with a chuckle.

"Tempting, but no," she says with a giggle, "Although I've lost my chance, I'm not too bothered by it. That gonk robber decided to do what I've been thinking about for months."

"But enough about him, he's dead now. After last night, you planning on doing what I think you are?" She questions, one that I reply with a confident nod.

"Well let me know when you race next, I want to make some eddies when you inevitably crash out," she teases, and I don't get a chance to shoot back when a car pulls up beside us with a honk.

"Hello ladies, need a ride?" I see Leon calls out from inside.

I give a short wave to him as Ashely settles inside before turning back to me, "I was serious by the way, don't think you can forget about us peasants once you start making it big."

"Yeah yeah don't worry. When I do make it big, I'll be sure to throw down some scraps for some of the little people."

"Hey, who you calling little?"

"Oh shut up Leon. Stay safe Drake, and remember, I'm coming to your next race so bring your A-gamaaaaahhhh!" She cuts off with a scream as Leon decides to step on the gas while she's out the window and I blow up in laughter as I somehow hear her cursing him out as they accelerate away.

I devolve into chuckles before continuing my way. It takes a few minutes of dodging fast-paced pedestrians, and one truck that decides the sidewalk was an open lane until a mag into its windshield convinces it back onto the road before, I reach my destination.

"Meat skewers! Meat skewers here!"

"Hey buddy! How about some new tattoos to show off to your output!"

"Who wants some preem BD's fresh off the chair! Experience it like never before!"

Various stall owners call over their neighbours in the plaza, one dedicated to some bigwig politician during Texas's bid for independence though no one really remembers it anymore and it's been taken over by the flea market. Here you can get anything from food, guns, vehicles, chrome and if you're savvy enough and know the right people, some military and Militech contraband as well but I've only heard about it, never actually seen anything like it yet.

I pull out my agent and dial Marv as I flow through the stalls, keeping my wallet and iron close less a wandering hand snatch it as I push through the crowd and wait for him to pick up.

"What's up choom?"

"Well… a lot actually Marv, I'll tell you later but for now could you head down to the garage and bring the car over to the plaza, the one with the flea market? Need to pick up some tools and I got a few ideas to spruce up the ride."

"Uhh, sure sure. I'll be there in twenty."

"Alright see you soon," I drop the call as I see the first stall I need, one full of used tools.

"Notice anything you like boy?" The old man behind the stall grins with a glint in his eyes that lets me know I'm about to regret showing any interest.