Rain was comin' down in sheets, turning the Redmond Barrens into a sludgy mess. I huddled under the makeshift awning of my street kitchen, watchin' the neon lights flicker through the downpour. Tonight was gonna be rough, but I had a job to do.
My comm buzzed – Whisper's voice cracklin' through. "Neon, we've got trouble. Corp raid in sector 4. Lot of people displaced, hungry, and scared."
I growled, already firing up my portable stove. "On it. Spread the word – Neon's cookin' tonight."
As I started chopping soy proteins and whatever veggies I could scrounge, I caught a glimpse of the glittering Seattle skyline. Up there, the corpers were probably sittin' down to their fancy dinners, not givin' a single thought to the chaos they'd caused down here.
But we had our own kind of wealth, and I was about to prove it.
Hours passed, and the pot of thick stew grew larger. Locals started tricklin' in, drawn by the smell. An old ork woman brought a handful of wrinkled peppers from her windowsill garden. A human kid showed up with some dented cans he'd salvaged. Each addition went into the pot, making it something more than just food – it was becoming a symbol of our resilience.
As the night wore on, the crowd grew. I saw faces I recognized and plenty I didn't. Runners mixed with wage slaves who'd fallen on hard times. Metahumans of all types huddled together, sharing warmth and stories.
Then I spotted them – a family, newly arrived from the corp sector. The parents looked shell-shocked, their kids wide-eyed and trembling. They approached cautiously, clearly unused to our ways.
"What's... what's going on here?" the father asked, eyeing the line warily.
I grinned, showing my troll tusks. "Dinner, omae. Everyone's welcome."
They hesitated, but the rumbling of empty stomachs won out. I ladled out generous portions, making sure the kids got extra.
As they ate, I saw the tension leave their shoulders. The mother looked up at me, tears in her eyes. "We lost everything in the raid. I thought... I didn't know what we were going to do."
I nodded, understanding all too well. "That's why we do this, omae. Out here, we look after our own."
Nearby, I overheard Glitch talkin' to some newcomers. "See, up there," he pointed to the gleaming towers, "they think they've got it all. But they don't get what real wealth is. It's not about nuyen or fancy drek. It's about knowin' your neighbors have your back, even when you've got nothin'."
As the night went on, something beautiful happened. People who'd arrived scared and alone were now talkin', laughin', sharin' stories. I saw the corp family chattin' with a group of ork squatters, their kids playin' together like the barriers between their worlds had never existed.
Whisper sidled up to me, a rare smile on her face. "You did good, big guy. This is more than just feeding people."
I nodded, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the stew. "This is how we fight back, omae. Not with guns or hacking, but with this." I gestured to the scene around us. "Community. Showin' that we don't need their scraps to survive. We've got each other."
As the rain finally let up, I looked out at the crowd. Sure, tomorrow would bring new challenges. The corps would keep trying to grind us down. But tonight, we'd shown what real power looks like.
'Cause when you can take what little you have and turn it into a feast that lifts up an entire community? That's the kind of strength no corp will ever understand. And as long as we hold onto that, they'll never truly beat us.