The tension in the abandoned warehouse was thick enough to cut with a knife. On one side, the Red Dragons, their chrome glinting in the dim light. On the other, the Steel Wolves, faces painted with tech-enhanced war paint. Both groups fingered their weapons, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
And there I was, a slab of troll meat caught in the middle, wonderin' how the frag I'd gotten myself into this mess.
"Alright, you fraggers," I growled, my voice echoing in the cavernous space. "You wanna keep bleedin' each other dry, or you wanna eat?"
Confused looks passed between the gangers. This wasn't how peace talks usually went down.
I gestured to the makeshift kitchen I'd set up. "I'm gonna cook. You're gonna sit. And we're gonna talk like actual fraggin' human beings. Clear?"
There were mutters and grumbles, but slowly, warily, they took seats at the long table I'd cobbled together from scavenged materials.
As I fired up my portable stove, I kept talking. "Now, I know you boys and girls think you're oh-so-different. Red Dragons claim the east side, Wolves got the west. But let me tell ya somethin' - from where I'm standin', you look a lot more alike than you think."
I started chopping vegetables - real ones, a rare treat I'd been saving for a special occasion. "You're all tryin' to survive in a world that don't give a drek about you. Corps step on you, Lone Star harasses you. So you band together, thinkin' that's the only way to make it."
The smell of cooking food began to fill the air. I saw nostrils flare, stomachs rumble. It's amazing how quick violence fades when you're faced with a hot meal.
"But here's the thing," I continued, stirring a pot of simmering sauce. "While you're busy fightin' each other over scraps, the real enemy's sittin' pretty in their high towers, laughin' at how easy it is to keep you divided."
I filled bowls with rice and then started ladling out bowls, the rich aroma making mouths water. "Now, before you dig in, I want you each to look at the person across from you. Really look."
Reluctantly, Red Dragons and Steel Wolves locked eyes.
"What do you see?" I prodded. "Cause I'll tell you what I see. I see kids who grew up in the same broken system. I see people who've lost friends and family to violence and poverty. I see survivors."
As I passed out the bowls, I noticed the hostility starting to fade, replaced by something else. Curiosity, maybe. Or recognition.
"This meal," I said, taking my own seat, "it's made from ingredients from both your territories. Vegetables from the community garden the Dragons protect. Spices from the market in Wolf turf. Apart, they're just scraps. Together? They're a meal that'll stick to your ribs and give you strength."
They began to eat, and I saw eyes widen at the taste of real, home-cooked food. For many, it was probably the first time in years.
"Now," I said, digging into my own bowl, "while we eat, we're gonna talk. Not about territory or revenge. About what you want for your people. What you need. Bet you'll find it ain't so different."
And talk they did. Haltingly at first, then with growing animation. They swapped stories of close calls with KE, of protecting their neighborhoods from corp encroachment. Of dreams for a better future.
By the time the bowls were empty, the warehouse didn't feel like neutral ground anymore. It felt like... community.
Wolf, the Steel Wolves' leader, was the first to speak up. "You know, Neon... you might be onto something here. Maybe we have been wasting our energy fighting the wrong enemy."
Fang, his counterpart in the Red Dragons, nodded slowly. "Yeah. Imagine what we could do if we worked together instead of tearing each other apart."
I grinned, seeing the spark of something new in their eyes. "That's the spirit, omae. Now, I ain't sayin' it'll be easy. You've got history, bad blood. But you've also got something in common now."
"Yeah?" Fang asked. "What's that?"
I gestured to the empty bowls, the table where they'd shared a meal as equals. "This. A reminder that at the end of the day, we're all just tryin' to survive. And we do that better together than alone."
As the gangers filed out, there was a new energy in the air. Not the crackle of impending violence, but the hum of possibility. They'd come in as enemies and left... well, not as friends, but maybe as something close to allies.
I started cleaning up, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Tonight, we'd done more than broker a peace. We'd rediscovered what community really means.
'Cause when you strip away the colors and the chrome, we're all just people trying to carve out a life in this unforgiving sprawl. And sometimes, all it takes to remember that is sharing a good meal and an honest conversation.
In the shadows of the Sixth World, that's a kind of magic all its own.