At the side of a bustling road, a food truck stood in place.
The chef inside looked through the serving window and felt slightly dizzy as he took in the long line. He cursed inwardly as he turned to look at the food truck's owner who was taking pictures with the customers outside.
'He's enjoying the fame while I'm here sweating in this small box, only to get paid twenty dollars an hour.' he thought as he clicked his tongue, flipping burgers expertly as he quickly stacked up all the ingredients together and gave it to the customers in front him.
"Three done… probably a hundred more to go." he muttered as he grabbed some balls of minced meat and placed them on the griddle.
The hectic work continued until late night and only after 10PM, could he breath as he watched the cops talk to the owner. This was a daily occurrence to him so he took off his apron, gloves and walked towards the truck's entrance as he glanced at the tip jar.
'One day I'm so gonna report him to the cops for stealing my tips.' he thought as he shook his head and walked towards a nearby gas station to get himself some supper.
"If I continue saving up, I'll be able to get my own food truck in three years." he muttered, feeling slightly better as the mistreatment of his boss was pushed to the back of his head.
Just then, he frowned and looked back at the food truck before running back. He had left his wallet back in there. In less than a minute, he walked in and saw the owner holding his wallet as he pulled out a thin stack of notes from inside.
The owner looked up and smirked, "This is my truck, kid. And I saw this wallet on the floor. Law states that if anything is abandoned in a person's property, then the abandoned item belongs to the person. Too bad, isn't it? Next time, don't leave your wallet idiot."
As he said this, he pulled out the dollar bills and coins from the tip jars, three of which were filled completely and the fourth about three fourths. Check latest chapters at NoveIꜰire.net
The cook stood by the entrance silently, staring at the owner in shock. Something seemed to hit him as he glanced at the propane cylinder secured at the corner of the truck.
"Indeed. Laws here are pretty messed up." he said, taking a few steps as he made up his mind. Months of being taken advantage of, seemed to have pushed him over the edge.
He locked the door behind him and walked past the owner, stopping right in front of the huge 100 pound propane tank. According to the safety standards, it was advised to install a safety cage to keep the tank secure but the stingy owner skipped this part, making it easy for the cook to execute his current plan.
With a single fluid motion, he grabbed the knife nearby and grabbed the tube connecting the tank to the griddle before bringing it down with all his strength. It didn't slice through in one single motion, so he began to slice it hurriedly.
"Hey!! What the fuck are you doing!?" the owner yelled and smacked him on the head, "LUKAS!!!"
Hearing his name, Lukas paused for a moment as he seemed to have gained some clarity. He stopped slicing the tube and tossed the knife at the owner who ducked right on time. Seeing the man in front of him kneel down with his hands over his head, Lukas turned around.
His hands went onto the regulator, a component that connected the tube to the propane tank. With both his hands on it, he pulled the pipe out directly before pulling the tank towards himself as he moved to the side.
The owner watched as the tank fell right in front of him, the smell of propane hitting him right in the face as he looked up at Lukas pathetically, "St- stop! I was just joking, take your wallet, here!"
With that, he tossed the wallet away but Lukas barely moved, his gaze locked onto the owner as he crouched down, taking out a lighter from his back pocket.
"The only reason I continued working, is because I wanted to take care of my sister. Now that she's gone, I realise that I really have nothing to live for. You've made it really hard for me this past few months." Lukas said softly, his voice monotonous.
Then, instead of lighting the lighter, he stood back up and closed the serving window. His expression stayed stoic as he watched the owner scramble towards the door, but he decisively stomped on his ankle, stopping him from moving.
"Where are you going? This is just an accident. According to the law, even if both of us somehow manage to live through this, I won't be thrown in the prison." he said as he glanced at the gas pipe hanging beside him. This alone was enough proof that the whole incident wasn't an accident but he didn't say it out loud.
Instead he watched at the owner struggled more, trying to kick Lukas with his scrawny legs.
It hurt and while Lukas winced, he didn't let go of the owner's ankle and instead put more force against it.
Ten seconds later, he could smell the propane all around him and took a deep breath.
"Good Luck, Mr Ming." he said as he lifted his leg and watched Mr Ming scramble towards the exit. Slowly but smoothly, Lukas lit his lighter.
Flames consumed the two of them, the pressure blasting off the door and the serving window. For a second he felt nothing and then, unimaginable pain tore through him as he tried to move, but was unable to feel anything through the pain.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but he felt the pain disappear. With that, he smiled as he recalled what had just happened.
'Mr Ming flew out with the door…. he'll probably be alive but with severe burns. Well, fuck him.' he thought, feeling satisfied.
For the first time in his life, he had felt like he was in control even though they were the last moments of his life.
He let out a mental sigh, 'If only I could work for myself… ' he thought, remembering the time when he used to love cooking, only to see his passion disappear the more he worked for others who forced him to use inferior ingredients, some even harmful to humans.
'I did what you said sis… I followed my heart.'
A moment later, he saw a bright translucent screen appear in his head.
[Ding! You have been blessed with the SSS Rank Divine Chef Talent]