"Sooo....on the Number Four, the Big Belly Double-Triple Cheeseburger....does that come with cheese?"
".....it's a cheeseburger."
".....so no?"
The withering glare that Rachel Roth gave the fat balding man on the other side of the counter could have curdled milk, but its effects were completely lost on him, as he scratched underneath the folds of his substantial gut that drooped out from the bottom of his shirt.
"Oh, right, right," he nodded with what must have been a painfully rare moment of clarity. "So, what kind of cheeses do you have?"
"Calling it 'cheese' would be generous," Rachel began, "But according to the packaging at least, we have American, Swiss, cheddar, and 'fiesta.'"
The fat man nodded absently, before declaring "I'll take mine with Pepper Jack."
Once again, the pale, purple-haired girl fixed him with a glare that could strip the paint off a car, then reiterated, "We have American, Swiss, ch--"
"Friend Rachel!" Kori exclaimed as she practically erupted from the break room, a soda cup filled to the brim with mustard in her hand and a bright yellow smudge on her lips, "I have the most glorious of news! I believe I now have the solution for our financial worries!"
Rachel raised an eyebrow, turning to her friend and ignoring the fat guy at the counter, and the twenty other people in line behind him. "You've discovered the secret to overthrowing the stranglehold of the corrupt and exploitative ruling class in order to bring about a worker's paradise?"
"No, but I have learned of an exciting business opportunity!" she beamed. "During my allotted fifteen-minute breaking of the room of baths, I was speaking to our co-worker Trevor..."
"The one who keeps trying to take pictures of your butt when he thinks you're not looking?"
"Yes, the same!" Kori nodded enthusiastically, her cup of mustard sloshing over. "He suggested that we engage in the starting of a small business, and said that we could make the fortunes! According to the Trevor, we would be perfect for selling ventilation equipment!"
"...ventilation equipment?"
"Uhhh, excuse me," the fat man at the counter muttered, "I'd still like to order a--"
"One second," Rachel dismissed him before turning back to Kori. "Trevor thinks we should sell ventilation equipment?"
"Oh yes, he was very enthusiastic about it! He said we should sell exclusively ventilation equipment!"
"Wait a second," Rachel's expression soured. "...'exclusively ventilation equipment?' What did he say, exactly?"
"His words with exactness were 'you two could make tons doing Only Fans!'"
"Of course," Rachel gave a deflated sigh. "First off, no, we are absolutely not doing that. Second of all, that has nothing to do with air conditioning."
"Then I have the confusion," Kori puzzled. "If 'only fans' does not mean selling equipment for conditioning of the air, then what is it?"
"It's...." Rachel stopped herself, looked back to the line of people, then back at her expectant friend, "it's...just come here, it's--"
Rachel whispered the answer into Kori's ear, and the orange-skinned girl went pale with shock.
"....oh," she managed, before her expression brightened. "Oh, that is even easier than selling ventilation equipment! We--"
"Absolutely not."
"Hey, can I please--"
"Number four with Pepper Jack that this restaurant chain has never carried, got it," she turned back to the register. "Will that be for here or to go?"
The fat man sputtered indignantly for a moment, and then with a thunderous crash, the ceiling collapsed.
The dining room of the Big Belly Burger filled with dust and rubble as people screamed and ran for cover, trying to scramble under tables or hide in the bathroom.
"Oh, thank God," Rachel muttered to herself, as the sudden violent burst of destruction at least broke up the mind-numbing tedium of her part-time job. When Sartre said 'hell is other people,' he must have been thinking of the fast food industry.
A tall, imposing figure floated down from the makeshift hole in the ceiling. A powerhouse with rippling muscles, purple skin, gleaming orange eyes, and a foot-tall, neatly-cropped mohawk.
"At long last, I have found your hiding place, Princess Koriand'r," the figure boomed. "I am Kallark, warrior of the Shi'ar Empire and supreme leader of the Imperial Guard. As per the bargain made between the Majestrix and Komand'r of Tamaran, you are to return with me to the Empire, to be my concubine. I offer you a choice: come peacefully, or watch the people of this world suffer."
Kori's sunny expression hardened as she wiped the mustard away from her lips, and engulfed her body in a flash of bright green light. In an instant, her tacky Big Belly Burger uniform was gone, replaced with the violet and silver dress of the Tamaranian royal family.
"I am not your property to take, Kallark," Princess Koriand'r challenged as she rose in the air to level with him, "And the people of this world are not the property of your empire. I offer you a choice: leave peacefully now, or be destroyed."
Kallark smirked at the Princess's challenge. "You have spirit, girl, but in time you will learn that--....you, pale one, what are you doing?"
Rachel stood at the counter register, pressing buttons.
"Clocking us out," she explained, before the air grew cold and shadows swirled around her. "The manager said we can't kick your ass on company time...."
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