The loudspeaker crackled on and a cheery yet banal tone sounded in an irksome repetition. Out of countless pods hopped tons of people in sparkling unitards, rushing to and fro to a large nexus of restaurants in the dark, gloomy center of the facility spattered around in a wide, tight semicircle nicknamed the 'Chelsea Smile Market.' But, unlike was normal - and what was normal was that all of these people would be rushing in and out of all of the countless eateries in order to consume all sorts of worldly delicatessen - everyone was gathered in a large circle at the front of the market.
There stood Agent 42. He held a laser cannon in one hand. His countenance looked fixed in a grim expression that looked like some sort of strange mixture between anger, fear, and agony.
A man walked around the crowd of people. "Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs here! Fresh and juicy dogs, shove 'em right in your mouth, stuff 'em right in there! Get your hot dogs! Chow down on a dog while you watch the duel! Get a bonus dog if somebody dies, offer only valid before the first shot is fired! Get your hot dogs!"
Someone stopped the vendor and bought five hot dogs. However, after the dogs had been handed over, the person realized that they only had enough cash on hand for four hot dogs. The hot dog vendor, understandably, requested the the fifth dog be returned, or otherwise that the patron open a financing account to pay for the extra dog over time. The patron argued instead that someone will most likely die during the duel, and if the vendor would just wait for the duel to finish, they'd see that there was no need to return the dog or to finance it. The hot dog vendor said instead that that was absurd, and that there was no real way to know whether or not someone would die until someone did, and until then no dogs were complimentary, and then the vendor went on to say that this was their livelihood and that they spent their own money to purchase the meat for these heated dogs and if their patron did not return the dog, then they would be contacting the relevant authorities.
By this point, unfortunately, the patron had already eaten three of the dogs, so there were only two left. One dog paid for, one dog not paid for. And this would just not do for the hot dog vendor. At the same time, however, there was a growing cluster of other would-be hot dog patrons, and this had been exactly what the first patron had been betting on. See, the first hot dog patron had an inkling of an idea that once someone (i.e. themself) broke the proverbial seal by purchasing a few hot dogs, countless other people may also end up deciding that they too wanted to shell out for some juicy meat in their mouths. And this was, of course, true. What the original patron considered when they considered this, and what they relayed to the vendor was that the value they provided by purchasing hot dogs and therefore confirming the monetary demand for them more than made up for one complimentary dog after four purchased dogs.
The vendor retailiated that, barring of course someone in the duel dying, they had not accounted for free dogs when pricing their food, and were they to give out a fifth free dog, they would be taking a financial loss. The first patron countered this argument by stating the opportunity cost of not giving them all five dogs and thusly convincing other people to buy hot dogs was far more than just the cost of one measley dog, and the patron went on to say that if the hot dog vendor's margins were so tight that one complimentary hot dog would throw off their balance sheet, then they needed to reevaluate their business model, because it was a sign that they were doomed to fail. The hot dog vendor told the patron that they were not the one out there selling dogs at the present moment, and that they ought to stay in their lane and either buy the dog or give it back.
However, at this point, the patron asked the other potential patrons if they would like to purchase a hot dog that had already been handed to another hot dog patron. Everyone answered uncomfortably with grumbling and resignation that they most likely would not. This was another porverbial feather in the hot dog patron's cap, and they argued that this should absolve them of any responsibility to pay for the hot dog.
On hearing this, the hot dog vendor told the original patron that it didn't matter. They told them that it was the principle of the thing, and that they would rather throw the hot dog in the garbage than let a patron so unecessarily rude and argumentative eat it. On hearing this, the patron immediately stuffed both of the remaining hot dogs in their mouth at the same time and walked off. Defeated, the hot dog vendor turned to their other prospective patrons, only to realize that everyone who had once been interested in buying a hot dog from them had abandoned the stand and were now facing inward to look at the duel, for Agent 69 had just stepped up to face Agent 42 from about twenty paces away.
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"Agent 42!" shouted Agent 69. "You are, without and far beyond any shadow of a reflection of an impression of a doubt, an excellent agent. Your agent knobs are always dialed up to eleven, you never skip a beat, and yet you march to the tum tum tums of your own drum, even when you're experiencing heartburn and need the help of a few antacids. Anyone who knows this, will corroborate this with passion."
The audience cheered affirmatively.
"But you've had blinders on, Agent 42. You've been blind as a horse strapped to a tipped over cow, Agent 42."
The audience grumbled with confusion. He was losing them.
"See, Agent 42, I've got to reveal to everyone here what I've already revealed to you in private. Something that, til now, has been but whispered between the shadows and walls of the facility. Something that everyone here will soon know for certain. This is, of course, the reason for our duel today."
The audience anxiously muttered with anticipation.
"Agent 42, I'm saying it here and I'm saying it now. I had an emotional-"
With a loud bang, smoke flew into the air as a laser zapped into Agent 69's chest and blew a barrel-sized hole through it. Agent 69 tumbled to his side with a wretched groan, immediately growing faint and pale. The crowd muttered with stress and confusion. Someone screamed. And then, the crowd parted like colored waters to reveal a woman with huge, fringy hair and enough mascara caked on to the living wood on her face that it almost looked like she was wearing a theater mask. She held the smoking laser cannon close to her chest. Her countenance was at once full of sorrow, regret, and shame. As the audience gasped, she rushed over to Agent 69.
"I'm sorry, snookums - um, I mean, Agent 69," she said. "But this had to be done."
"But-"
Before he could continue speaking, she fired the laser right at his face, blasting it into ash.
[Agent 69 is dead]
Kahli looked at Sahdi and Unit 5a23 with anxiety. "Fuck, there goes that plan." Then, she immediately moved her hands across her chest in repentance and said five chants of praise to Theseosus' pincers for her verbal transgression.
"I for one think we should just get out of here," said Sahdi. "I'm sick of cramming myself in this awful hot dog stand, it's so tight and cramped and I'm worried I'll smell like a bunch of hot dogs and I won't be able to tell!"
Kahli didn't like hiding in the hot dog stand either. It did smell bad, and Froufrou looked like the heat of the dogs was making her uncomfortable. Along with that, every time the hot dog vendor reached inside to whip out another dog - which, thankfully, hadn't been too often - she was worried they'd get caught. But, she'd figured this was the safest way to spectate the duel without participation. Only, now it had all gone to hell. Agent 69 had been shot to death by Agent 42's wife, for whatever reason - possibly to save face, or possibly even to attempt to save her husband. Which of course was a moot point, Agent 42 had been dead since he crashed his pod into the gate of the facility and all that stood in the center for the duel was his dead corpse propped up by an old sanitation engineer's broom and a couple of strips of tape, which were mainly used to keep his severed head from rolling off on its own as it was wont to do.
"I do not mind being confined," replied Unit 5a23. "However, I am concerned that staying in this admittedly extremely cramped space will speed up my overheat time by a wide margin, which may require me to toast more bread than is reasonable in order to maintain my consciousness. Therefore, I suggest we get out of here somehow - but without notifying others that we are trying to escape, and ideally without us making a scene. Thankfully, I have devised, with my cold, calculating robo-intelligence, an adequate method of escape without revealing our identities."
"You have?" Kahli asked incredulously.
"Yes, I have," said Unit 5a23. "I'm going to use one of my [skills]."
Kahli smiled. This sounded promising. Even Sahdi looked slightly enthused, which was not a big difference from her usual disinterested glare.
"Excellent, prepare for takeoff."
"Takeoff?" said Kahli and Sahdi in unison.
Froufrou released a terrible squelch as Unit 5a23's jets erupted from his feet, immediately sending the hot dog stand that contained them into the air.
"Oh my gods!" shouted a muffled voice from outside the hotdog stand. "Oh my gods, my hot dog cart! It's flying!"
"Holy shit!" shouted another voice. "Has it gained sentience?"
Suddenly, it became obvious that more and more people from the crowd were staring at the hot dog stand as it levitated higher and higher in the air.
"Nice going, Unit 5a23," said Kahli with a groan as she scrunched up her face, cracking the plaster covering it. "Real nice plan you had there. Very low profile."