The night was young in Seattle, neon lights flickerin' through the smog as I set up my mobile kitchen in a spot between the glitterin' corp sector and the gritty edges of the Barrens. It was a risky location, but I had a point to prove.
I'd barely fired up the grill when I heard the commotion. A corp suit, all polished chrome and designer threads, was arguin' with a group of street kids. From the looks of it, the suit had taken a wrong turn and ended up where he didn't belong.
"Back off, you little vermin!" the suit snarled, his hand hoverin' over what was probably a concealed weapon.
The kids, hungry and desperate, weren't backin' down. This was gonna turn ugly fast if someone didn't step in.
"Oi!" I bellowed, my troll voice cuttin' through the tension. "How about you all cool it and grab some grub instead?"
They all turned to look at me, confused. I grinned, showin' my tusks.
"C'mon, first round's on the house. Ain't no reason we can't settle this over a hot meal."
The street kids were quick to take me up on the offer, their stomachs overrulin' their anger. The suit hesitated, lookin' like he'd rather eat razor wire than sit with the 'vermin'.
"What's the matter, omae?" I challenged. "Afraid of a little street food?"
That got him. With a scowl, he stalked over to my stand.
I got to work, slingin' my famous soy-based burgers onto the grill. The smell filled the air, and I could see even the suit's expression soften a bit.
As I handed out the food, I made sure to give everyone the same - same size burger, same toppings, same greasy wrapper. For a moment, as they all took their first bites, the differences between them seemed to fade.
"Drek, this is good," one of the kids mumbled through a mouthful.
The suit, despite himself, nodded in agreement. "It's... surprisingly excellent," he admitted.
I leaned on the counter, watchin' them eat. "Y'know," I said casually, "it's funny. When you're enjoyin' a good meal, it don't much matter where you came from or what you do. Food's got a way of levelin' the playin' field."
The suit looked up, meetin' my eyes. For a second, I saw something there - recognition, maybe. Of what, I wasn't sure.
"These kids," I continued, noddin' to the street group, "they're just tryin' to survive, same as anyone. And you, omae," I turned to the suit, "you ain't so different. We all gotta eat, right?"
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sizzle of the grill and the sounds of chewin'. Then, slowly, the suit nodded.
"I... I suppose you're right," he said, looking at the kids with new eyes. "I hadn't thought of it that way."
One of the older street kids, a tough-lookin' ork girl, spoke up. "Yeah, well, maybe you should start. We ain't just 'vermin', y'know. We're people."
The suit had the grace to look embarrassed. "I... I apologize. That was uncalled for."
As they continued to eat, the tension slowly bled away. By the time they finished, the suit was actually chattin' with the kids, askin' about their lives in the Barrens.
When it was time to leave, the suit reached for his credstick, but I waved him off. "Nah, omae. This one's on the house. Just remember what you learned here tonight."
He nodded, looking thoughtful. As he turned to go, he paused. "Thank you," he said. "For the food, and... for the lesson."
I watched him go, then turned to the street kids. "Alright, sparkplugs, who wants seconds?"
As I dished out more burgers, I felt that familiar warmth in my chest. This was why I did what I did. 'Cause when you're sharin' a meal, it don't matter if you're wearin' corp threads or Barrens rags. For a moment, we're all just people, enjoyin' good food together.
And in this divided world of ours, that's a fraggin' beautiful thing.