Dillon Parks sat down in the small, cramped break room of the local supermarket, his hair frazzled, his eyes tired, and started unwrapping his lunch from his sack. Two peanut butter sandwiches and a Monster energy drink to get him through the rest of his shift and then he went home. Living in the city was tough, the pay here wasn't great, and he only had one roommate to split the housing bill with.

He wanted to relax, but one of his coworkers came in and he took a deep breath and walked over to him. Gale hadn't yet agreed to the Labor Day strike, but Dillon was going to convince him.

Dillon waved Gale over and he came and sat down in the cheap plastic seats they were reserved to, "What's up?"

"Gale, have you given any more thought to… you know," Dillon looked over his shoulder to the door to make sure management wasn't coming

"I know," Gale said, leaning against his forearms on the table. "Dude, I don't know, I'm not sure if I can afford it. The lady's pregnant and I can't afford to take off."

"We've got something set aside," Dillon said. They'd pulled together a strike fund, in cash, over the past few months and they needed people to actually take off if they were going to manage it. "We'll get you through it."

"Dude, the man's president, we elected him. I voted for him. You voted for him, even."

Dillon felt his ears heat up, "Yeah, I voted to be a beefcake without working out, not martial law and blaming Captain America for all of our problems."

"Okay, it's not martial law," Gale said, more defensive than skeptical in Dillon's opinion. "They're hunting down Steve Rogers for his involvement in the attack on Congress."

"That still doesn't make any sense – Was Hale part of it too? Grant Ward? Patriot? Stark? Quake? They just add every new enemy to the list of people who were involved. It stops being credible, it stopped being credible a long time ago."

Gale shifted in his seat uncomfortably, "Look man," he leaned forward, "if we do this, maybe we're the next ones on the list."

"Look, if we don't do this, maybe we're the next ones on the list," Dillon said in response, taking a drink of Monster and looking him dead in the eyes. "Who knows, maybe you're right, maybe this is all just and decent. But if it's just and decent, well, they can't put us on any list."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Gale gave Dillon a look of annoyance, "I can't risk my job man, political strikes are definitely not protected."

"Lots of guys are higher up on the firing pole than you," Dillon said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Come on man, you're gonna have a kid, what're you gonna tell him you were doing while the U.S. was under martial law? Working at a super-market, trying to keep your head down?"

"Least I'd be able to tell him," Gale said.

"Look, if you're right, if this Presidency is legitimate, if you really believe that – You have to know you can go to a protest and not get shot. Captain America hasn't done anything violent since the attack, he's not asking us to do anything violent, just some marches and some strikes. If it's no problem, it's no problem." Gale made a cutting motion with his hand but Dillon was on a roll. "But if it is a problem, well, you don't want to be sitting on the sideline when it means your kid's freedom. And," Gale was still making the cutting motion, so he turned around to see that Clara, the manager, had walked in without him noticing.

"Relax Dillon, Gale," Clare said, her voice heavy. She was older than Dillon and Gale and she really looked it right now, mid-forties and tired as a dog. "Feel free to strike. Neither of you work the pharmacy, nobody's life is on the line here, your job will still be here when you get back."

Gale and Dillon looked at her and then at each other in shock.

"Look, I don't like that our government has been taken over by a fascist cabal either," Clara said, "Corporate can't say anything, obviously, and so I can't say anything officially or hold a meeting for snitches or whatever but there's been no noise about discipline for the strike coming down the pipe. And I, at least, am all for it. If the strike goes on long enough, we'll need to bring some people back to help stock and move food, but we could run on a skeleton crew to do it."

Gale nodded slowly, "Well, if I'm not going to get fired for this, I'm in."