As the sun began to rise, Gus realized the truth of his business model: the "fried chicken" was a lie, the "legitimate" fronts were a mess, and his employees were one missed lunch break away from a complete factory revolt. It was a typical Tuesday in the empire of Definitely Not Fried Chicken. Stalk's Videogame Corner: Definitely Not Fried Chicken
The neon sign flickered, casting a sickly yellow glow over the "Definitely Not Fried Chicken" storefront. Inside, the air smelled of stale grease and something decidedly more chemical. Gus, a manager who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours, watched his lone employee mop the floor with rhythmic, zombie-like exhaustion. definitely_not_fried_chicken__...
Behind the counter, a hidden door led to the real operation: a massive underground farm filled with "The Devil's Lettuce" and "Snow". Gus’s latest delivery driver, a man who consistently preferred driving to the local scrap yard instead of making his actual drops, was currently arguing with a guard who was about to starve to death because he couldn't find the breakroom microwave. As the sun began to rise, Gus realized
