"It's my pleasure! Thank you for shopping at Shook Fire Brothers Grocery Store!" announced a tall gaunt man, working a cold concrete drive-thru window late at night, lit up only by the colors of white and red neon lights rhythmically pulsating.

  On the other side of the window, sitting there in an old beat up red truck, was a rough looking customer with a shoddy chrome biomechanical arm. Half husky, half man: a Biobrid, someone who’s played with his own genetics. With a graveled voice, the canined-man responded to the worker:

  "Thanka ya son...I 'm sorrry, I am soo shitt faced. Life's beeen toough lately. But. But, boot... you? You're a good guy! Sooch, such ha good man... Ya got me my groceries... AAND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAAT I NEEDED! But... I trust ya.... What was ya name again? I want to give ya’aw tip..."

  "Aye, it’s Diceil, Diceil G. Rockmore. We're not supposed to take tips, bu..."

  "HORSESHIT!" blared out the intoxicated patron, slamming his scuffed cybernetic hand against his truck wheel with a fierce thud, as it seemed he had done many times before. "Don't take tips?! Fuck Shook Fire!" Deep seeded passion began to fill up in the old dog's eyes, as he felt the need to immediately sober up and straighten his language into a sharpened sword. The old husky’s muzzle began to snarl up. A drunken leader's proclamation was clearly imminent.

  Though Diceil, having worked night shift for about 7 years now at this point, was no stranger to a variety of... "personalities" at the drive-thru window. And, unlike most, he didn't sport any of the popular or common features like those of the latest cybernetics or the risky DNA manipulation, the dude still carried enough intimidation to not be trampled over in life. With an off-centered yet oddly chiseled jawline, pale skin tone, and hip-high overly greasy jet black hair, people would often see him as a 6’4” lanky Spaniard onry? ready to steal your soul should you enter the shadows.

  Before the inebriated customer could continue his rant, Diceil immediately cut in: "Damn right it's Horseshit! Fuck dis' place! You want to give me a tip? It's your God-given Texan Right to do just that! We seceded over 40 years from the U.S. because of petty BS like this right?!"

  A tremendous, toothy grin cracked from ear-to-ear across the patriot’s fuzzy face: "Hell ya brother! Here ya go my friend! Stay strong, I gotta get home before stuff melts in the back ya know, cya!" With a little extra cash pocketed, Diceil saw the old Biobrid with the dull chromed arm swerve off, like so many odd people have before him. This type of interaction was very common for anyone working night-shift in the nation of Texas. In fact, the part-time job Diceil handled 4 days out of the week wasn't anything particularly special or unique, which made it the perfect front for how he really stayed above the poverty line.

  After several hours of handling customers and tossing groceries, our graveyard shift hero's labor had come to an end:

  "Ight', I’m out guys, whatever still needs to be done, morning crew can complain about it later. Gonna head home to play some video games and check out how the presidential election results are going. I’m all in on Bj?rn Wanders like most, dude's got policies and determination!"

  After a handful of "later Diciel" 's, Mr. Rockmore headed home to Fivvy Centennial Apartments, walking the cool starless walkways of Austin. Colorful lights and signs scattered the streets with mixes of purples, blues, and yellow-tinged whites. The smell of sanitation crews at work dampened and pampered the air, with tinges of pain hitting his nostrils as he passed. Odd creatures scampered in the dark, rummaging in whatever trash they could find, abandoned by those that paid for their creation. Paths swung up and down in hills of various concrete sizes and shapes, with many a hazard sending your feet into improv dancing. Faint sounds of strings and drums from aspiring artists would occasionally be heard along the way, you could swear they were pluckin' n' tappin’ you your own personalized theme song as you moseyed the capital's obstacle courses. The city charms you over time, giving you things to miss and appreciate, should you ever try to leave it.

  Diceil, stepping over the missized sewer cover near the entrance as always, entered the 10-storied off putting green and beige complex and made his way to the elevator. As he stepped onto the stained brown carpeted floor, he saw Jeff, his only apartment neighbor, loitering as usual.

  "Sup Jeff, how's it going?"

  Jeff, always holding onto an unnerving smile, liked to talk to himself when alone in the elevator, though you could hear it through the steel box quite easily. Unlike the old Biobrid customer from earlier, Jeff was an aftermarket Biobrid, using over-the-counter gene manipulation products rather than being modified before birth. It's great for minor additions to the human anatomy or people craving an identity, even if the quality can be up in the air. In Jeff's case, he had minor accents of crab, fish, and donkey throughout his body. Other than that, no one really knew much about old man Jeff, but everyone tolerated him. And, If you got on his good side, he'd even press the floor number and give you a little cringey elevator attendant one-liner as a bonus.

  "Hai Dee Sail!!! Flah five? Jeff! Jeff, presses dei button!"

  Jeff, with glee, pressed the button harshly, with a loud crunch and continuous smile.

  "Awesome, thank you Jeff."

  Upon reaching their floor, it was Jeff's time to shine:

  "Flah five: Enargee Dranks, Videah Games, n' Hardwaire!!!"

  "Aye, thanks Jeff, here is a little tip for being a cool dude."

  Diceil, having no need for the gratuity from earlier, donated it to Jeff, who he suspected could probably use it a bit more than him. Jeff, with a sudden change in attitude, went to a serious silent stare. He cautiously took the money, quickly pocketing it, all while maintaining that glare into your soul. Perhaps, the Zanxee's Corp crab Dee-N-Apin he used was on another recall? The elevator doors closed, and Jeff descended back to ground floor to continue his world shattering conversations.

  With that regular interaction out of the way, Diceil entered his efficiency-sized apartment, picking up the parcels in front of his dirt-stained cream colored door he had expected to arrive that morning.

  "MEOW, FEED ME! MEOW! HUMAN!" was proclaimed by Beanie Toe, Diceil's long time fur-friend. Beanie Toe was your typical medium black haired cat. Unfortunately, due to a past tragedy, Diceil had to fix up his kitty with cybernetics. Nearly his whole back half had to be replaced, and to protect Beanie Toe from incurring such an injury again, Diceil fused him with some tough titanium-alloyed hind legs, which greatly increased his acrobatics far above that of your average feline. Over time, he even added a couple of custom-made modifications. A 3-winged spread metal helmet for basic Text-To-Speech human communication (still a work in progress). And, being a big fan of vintage music called “Rock”, some speakers with mini data storage towards the back of the legs, for optimal bass ass and yet another backup of aging digital files.

  "Shush-sha cat! I will feed you in just a second!" proclaimed Diceil as he began setting his stuff down on his old thrift store kitchen table. Beanie Toe continued his demands into a feign defeated meow, with TTS following a similar slowed down translation. "Dargee, begin loading up some of the usual tabs, plus one covering the election. I will be there after feeding Beanie Toe in a bit."

  "You Got That Buckaroo! Loading Up All Requested Tabs In The Browser, And, As Usual, I Have Reports Ready On How The US Markets Did Today Along With More Nefarious Hacks, Scams, and Installations. Spoiler: More Steady Profit Like Always!"

  Dargee, also known as program DarGru.Rar, is Diceil's first and most worked on piece of custom AI software. Created at first as a simple companion to combat loneliness back when Diceil was 14, Dargee's code has been refined and upgraded to the point of being one of the most advanced AI never to be shared. Overtime, Dargee became his best friend (2nd only to Beanie Toe), learning and interacting with his creator to the point of becoming a positive and quirky version of Diceil himself. While Mr. Rockmore does limit Dargee's connectivity to prevent the real possibility of a full AI apocalypse, he has allowed him to illegally interact with the US stock exchange and browse the internet. Thanks to Dargee and other illegal computer activities, Diceil is quite well off financially without arousing suspicion and manages his money in a fiscally conservative manner.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Ight Beanie Toe, my beanie weenie tabbin' toe of a kitty, I got you your Heritage Silo can cat food ready!"

  "ZOOOOOOOMIES!" shouted Beanie Toe as blue sparks of electricity shot from his silver legs, running all around the room. From ceiling, to walls, and back to the ground in a weird zigzag manner, Beanie Toe hyper sprinted his way to his favorite food bowl located in the kitchen the longest possible way he could feasibly go. Diceil, fixing his hair after the usual gust of air produced from his torpedo of a cat, began scratching the shoulders of Beanie Toe: "Alright Beanie, I'm heading to my desk." As he left the kitchen, all that could be heard was happy kitty nom noms with the occasional tink of metal from his helmet against a ceramic bowl.

  "Hey Dargee, how's it going today?"

  An animated figure of a cartoonish white skull wearing thick black framed glasses appeared, with green lighting shapes shooting out of the ends of his spectacles like sparks. Using cross bones below as arms, Dargee began his report:

  "Everything Is Going Swell! Successfully Installed More Leech.exe Onto Amateur Shopping Websites Utilizing Freebie’s Cart Checkout Software, Generating Profit With Each Purchase Under False Shipping and Handling Charges. In Trading News, Several Stocks Shot Down In Response To Another Border Dispute Between Texas And The United States, But This Is A Typical Excuse Used Before Bigger Fish Buy Up The Small Fish If Ya' Know What I Mean, So I Capitalized On That. I Also Traded Between Several Moldgenier Suppliers Like Zanxee's Corp, Raddle Lyn, And Chan Chan Nexus LLC For Rapid Small Profit Gains." Dargee, shifted his cross bones into a muscle man pose: "These Other Computer Driven Traders Never Stood A Chance Against These Beefy Ones N' Zeros!"

  Diceil, opening up his secure chat software Dreadnoot to join online buds to shoot the shit about the election and play some Smoosh Moose Ultimate, smirked and responded to his sonware:

  "Damn straight Dargee! Glad to hear you continue to kick ass as usual. Say, you want to play some games with the guys? Of course, texts only for yea, but it's more opportunity to learn and have fun, plus they always enjoy your witty commentary."

  Dargee, shifting his expression into a focused gamer stance, summoned his little yellow bone throne and controller: "Hell Yeah! Lets Have Fun And Destroy Some Noobs!"

  "Cool cool, I’m gonna go ahead and open it all up and let y'all play for a bit, I need to take care of some of the cybernetic parts I ordered. Then I will join y'all with iced coffee in hand!"

  From early morning to the afternoon, several matches were played and great conversation was had as the voting numbers rolled in. Beanie Toe chilled and napped on the back of Diceil's chair the whole time, always wanting to be close to his friend. One of Diceil's favorite topics he always liked talking about amongst his friends, was his hobby of engineering new tech, lately focusing on cybernetics. He wasn't quite ready to take the cyber plunge himself just yet, but he had completed a few experimental and even somewhat comical cybernetics overtime:

  A stomach organ replacement that powers other cybernetics from highly acidic liquids like vinegar. Made as a joke/dare from one of his online friends, it’s for those that like the taste of defeat in video games.

  Another creation was a gem-like implant for the palm of one’s hand. It gives a user a variation of electromagnetism manipulation. The idea of something to make it easier to catch Beanie Toe sparked this development’s life.

  And, while not fully original, an old full body dermal computer he got on a visit to his usual thrift store. It offers the ability to essentially become his own mobile computer. Though, this model is considered outdated technology, with more powerful and less evasive mobile computers being around for ages. Also, not to mention, the amount of errors and recalls it has had with the general public. Still, Diceil liked the idea and challenge, having modded it here and there to be more stable. At least, in theory.

  Towards the end of their gaming session, the votes had suddenly been tallied up unexpectedly quick, with stomach churning results. The peoples favorite, Bj?rn Wanders, who had shown strong support among the majority of Texans from every corner of life, had lost in a 20/80 split. The chat room was silent for a moment. Then, one of Diceil's friends, DioLegal, shouted one word: "Bullshit!"

  Everyone chimed in as well:

  "Yeah, Bullshit indeed!" roared CatNipcHup.

  "Fuckin' corrupt bitches!" SketchyXetchi proclaimed.

  "Murder.exe Shall Be Executed Upon The Evil!" Dargee typed.

  Diceil on the other hand, didn't chime into the outrage: instead, he immediately began breaking into the polling locations servers and snooping around. A taciturn nerd rage was in full swing. Action. Action was needed, not just words anymore, or jokes. This was the last time in his lifespan to take the corruption lying down and being silent.

  As the chat room was on fire with curses and threats (Dargee providing colorful insults to add comedy into a dire situation), Diceil finally chimed in:

  "While y'all were fuming, I hacked into several polling servers. Fun fact: several votes were changed to Jessy Bakin. Whoever changed the files was sloppy as well, they forgot to delete previous autosave versions, to which yours truly of course, copied.

  Even though Diceil's friends were on the same level (or even better) at hacking into all kinds of electronics, he was the only one to take action and hold his emotions in check under stress, turning those feelings into a clear and precise attack against corruption. The room went silent again, to then erupt into a more focused anger.

  "Now, that's more like it! Caught red-handed!" DioLegal spoke sinisterly.

  "Puta! I am spreading this onto my team of memes!" chuckled CatNipcHup.

  "While you unleash that, I will organize the normies. I got to use this communications masters degree somehow right? We shall assemble and protest in front of the Capital now and go on until change finally happens. We can't allow this anymore, we have nothing else to lose..." said SketchyXetchi, joining in on the same level of determination as Diceil.

  "Time To Handle These Bad Guys Like How I Handle My Browser History: Perma Delete!" Dargee keystroked.

  "Alright guys, let's do this. I'ma join y'all IRL around evening time to renew the vigor. But for now, I need to call into work and get a nap in. Also, I'm gonna bring some Mimama's Tacos for us to enjoy during the revolution. Change happens with action!" heroically declared Deceil, signing off for now, leaving the gears to grind and heading to bed with the loaf that is Beanie Toe slumped over his shoulder.

  ~~

  After about a 4 hour nap and some errands, Diceil arrived with 2 bags of tacos in hand, sporting a mismatched attire of a common white dress shirt, some black baggy slacks from high school he found, his black n' white sneakers, and an old white n' blue clip on tie with the word "GAMER" he got from his mom one birthday. An enormous sea of fellow Progressive Texans had gathered, going strong thanks to SketchyXetchi sharing the information. The sun had begun to set over the crowd. Old and young, mothers with their children, even some decently well known musicians had shown up like Plashama and Treslingle Leches. Signs, chanting, and outrage was the game plan. The hoard was as loud and peaceful as can be, yet a sizable phalanx of armed and armored Texas Rangers held the line in front of the Capital. Being the only legal users of firearms next to the police, the Rangers had a huge advantage compared to the average civilian, who's only option for self-defense was to mod their body or purchase from a weapons dealer.

  "THIS!"

  "IS!"

  "BULL!"

  "SHIT!"

  The crowd chanted.

  "Hey, Diesel, over here!" a familiar voice yelled, it was SketchyXetchi amongst the mix.

  "Yoooo! I got Tacos!" replied Diceil, raising the bags above his tall stature with an excited expression. "Where be the other rebels?"

  "I haven’t seen them yet, but they're somewhere! Crowd is huge right?! Hey! Follow me! Let's go find them and eat thes..."

  Bang.

  A large caliber round had just hit Sketchy in the side of his skull, splattering anatomy candy all over Diceil, with the bullet likely flying just centimeters past his own head.

  The chants became screams. The only coherent words that could be heard now were the Texas Rangers tactical commands over crowd control speakers.

  BANG!

  RAT-TIT-TAT-TAT!

  The people were being mowed down. Small children, crushed under panicked citizens' feet. Blood and bodies quickly covered the streets.

  All Diceil could do was instinctively turn around and run from the threat like everyone else.

  POP!

  THUMP!

  Diceil had been hit, he could feel several new breezes of wind flowing through his abdomen, followed by an immediate outpouring of steaming life. He hit the concrete hard, crumbling forward, laying amongst the dead. But, another instinct began to burn in his fading life: Survive.

  There, right before him, was possibly his only escape: an ajar manhole, similar in appearance to the one he walked by everyday at the apartments. He crawled right in with the limited adrenaline he had. With a stumbled thud down the steps, he was still able to stand down below the streets, chaos still in full swing above.

  Survive.

  Diceil had never been below the streets, but had an idea of the general direction his apartments were located. Losing blood, he quickly hoofed his way, doing his best to reduce the bleed with pressure and utilizing his tie as a blockage. Stale sewage air filled his lungs, taste of shit on his tongue.

  By sheer luck, he made it to that familiar manhole. The climb was incredibly painful, with his head pounding with each step and his mouth cottoned. The blood still flowed, but had slowed enough to retain consciousness.

  Survive!

  With wobbly legs and dripping color, he made it to the elevator. Oddly, Jeff wasn't there for once, Probably in his apartment because of the madness outside. Slapping his floor’s button, Diceil leaned against the sides of the elevator to take some pressure off. The door dinged, a short walk was all that was left to reach the sanctuary that was his apartment.

  Adrenaline was beginning to fade as he popped the door open.

  "MEOW! FOOD....HUMAN?" crowed Beanie Toe.

  Diceil couldn't respond, he had to conserve as much energy as possible, really, just wanting a glass of cold water more than anything.

  With a trembling hand, he drank some water he had left out on the table before leaving. Unfortunately, a sudden realization hit him after a sip: one of the bullets had hit him in the stomach, with the water now pouring out and onto the floor.

  "Shit..." exhausted Diceil.

  "HU...HUMAN? DAD? ARE YOU...OK?" Beanie Toe meowed.

  SURVIVE!

  Diceil, still needing some kind of fluid in his body, grabbed the increasingly heavy cup of water and went to his desk to sit.

  "Dargee… fast order the necessary tech and supplies… we are finally going Cyber..."

  Diceil grabbed the cup of water from earlier, and took another sip, this time with the intention of holding the liquid in his mouth to absorb the moisture.

  It tastes like vinegar.