Chapter Text
“Hello and welcome to Backstreets Burger, home of the famous Triple-Patty-Delight, now on sale.” It was, by and large, the same greeting to every single one of the various flavors of people that came through the restaurant (if you could dignify the establishment by such a name) doors.
Summer didn’t hate the work, exactly - it earned her money, though she would hard pressed to call what she earned a living - but it was better than nothing. At least there were benefits: this job was really hardly ever the same from day to day, unlike the corporate jobs her parents held. Well, the work was the same (taking orders from behind her cash register) but the people, at least, varied quite a bit.
“Hello and welcome,” she would say. Sometimes assuring customers that their supply chains had nothing to do with any of that District 23 nonsense. There would be ordinary people, of course, and Summer liked to imagine where they were going sometimes. There were the sweepers who showed up at night and sometimes in the early morning, always asking if their burgers and fries could be put in the blender together before they received them.
One time there had been those two people from the Index, who’d stared at her and then down at their pieces of paper before reading their order off them.
“I’m not even hungry,” one of them had said. “But the Prescript says that I should buy some waffle fries today on my way home, so that’s what I’m here to do. I guess you can have them if you want, I just need to buy them. I wouldn’t want to get that grease on me in the car anyway.”
So she’d had free waffle fries. Maybe at one time it might’ve been strange, but honestly, she’d seen probably thousands of people after just a few months and it only kept adding up.
Summer didn’t want to be here all her life, but it was probably not the worst place to be working while she tried to find another place that would take her. And, of course, sometimes there were things that would happen that would be enough to shock even her - even after so long.
She’d looked up from the register as the door dinged open and her eyes had widened slightly in surprise.
There had never been an Arbiter here before. Summer stood up a little straighter behind the register as the Arbiter approached the counter, trying to remember if she looked at all presentable. It was rather eerie, the hush that descended over the little business establishment - as if a cold wind from death itself had breezed inside.
“Hello and welcome-” Summer gave her usual spiel, even if her thoughts were far away. What was an Arbiter doing out here? Nothing that excited really happened around here anyway. Was she here just because? Or was there some sort of bigger purpose? There had to be, right? There was always a bigger purpose...
“Hi,” the Arbiter said. Her black-and-gold over coat hung unzipped and beneath it Summer could see a garishly colored t-shirt with the words Don’t piss me off - I’m about to level up and you look like just enough XP . “Uhhh. Can I get a thing of potato chips. The - the extra hot and spicy kind.”
“Huh?” Summer shook her head. “Oh. Sure, of course, ma’am. Is that all?”
It was all. The Arbiter handed over a slightly-sticky wad of cash to pay for the chips and seemed greatly delighted with the bag that Summer gave her.
“Thank you,” she said. “I have this whole stupid stakeout thing and honestly, the only way I’m going to survive is nachos and my laptop.” She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell my boss.”
Summer had no intentions of doing so. She just sort of watched as the Arbiter turned and glided across the floor towards the glass doors. It was only too late that Summer realized that she wasn’t going to stop and open the door and she tried to raise her voice but-
Smack !
The Arbiter staggered backwards, against a table. “Oh, fuck! Cringe, my nose... ow.”
Summer cringed. “A-are you okay, ma’am?”
The Arbiter shook her head. “I’m fine. I - I didn’t see that. The glass.” She frowned. “Oh, I hope I didn’t just crush my chips…” She seemed more disturbed by that than by hitting the door and Summer, after a moment’s hesitation, grabbed another bag from behind the counter and quickly ran around to her side. It would probably be in the best interest of... everyone that the Arbiter had only pleasant memories of this place, right?
“Here,” she said. “They’re only a buck ninety-nine anyway. Might as well have some that aren’t crushed.”
“Oh!” Now the Arbiter’s face lit up. “Thank you, ah…” she hesitated, clearly reading Summer’s name from the nametag clipped to her shirt. “Summer. I appreciate it. Fuckin’ love these things. Make the best nachos!”
Summer chose to not say that she thought nachos made out of Extra Hot n’ Spicy chips sounded quite disgusting, actually. Instead she just smiled. “Of course. It’s no problem, ah… uh. It's no problem, ma'am.”
The Arbiter smiled up at her. “Joy. My name’s Joy. Anyway, I’ve gotta go. I’m gonna be in this neighborhood for a while, so maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Oh... perhaps, so, yes.” Joy waved to her as she left and Summer waved automatically before realizing what she was doing and then she had to stop and try to process everything, the whole thing feeling more than a little bit surreal. Had that been an actual Arbiter?
Perhaps it didn’t matter. Odds were they would never see each other again anyway.
Except, of course, by some twist of fate, they did. The next time was later at night, and Summer had just finished pouring out a blent serving of chicken nugget and side salad... smoothie into this one sweeper’s waiting cup when the bell on the door jingled and when Summer looked up, expecting more sweepers, who should it be but that very same Arbiter again.
She waved first, this time.
“Oh!” Joy exclaimed, notably, not looking where she was going. “Hi! I was just- OW! Motherfucker, I-” She wasn’t looking where she was going and had walked directly into one of the restaurant’s tables, all but clotheslining herself across the edge of it. “Goddammit.”
Summer grimaced slightly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Ow, that hurt.” Joy shook herself. Today, her shirt read I Paused my Game to be Here . “How are you, working so late at night?”
“Oh, it’s fine, ma'am.” Summer smiled. “Always slow at this time... but gotta stay open for those sweepers, you know.”
“Haha, yeah.” Joy laughed. “C'mon, just use my name. Don't be such a lame-ass. It's not that serious anyway, I was just passing through and I was thinking - damn those chips I had last week were pretty poggers and I wanted more of them actually. Hey, by the way, do you sell Mountain Dew?”
“I - uh -” Summer blinked. “...yes?”
“Based! It’s my favorite drink.” Joy was all smiles, and Summer was pretty sure that Arbiters were not supposed to be this bubbly. Or this short, for that matter. But then again, what did she know? It wasn’t like she’d ever seen any other Arbiter in person, even if she’d seen a couple on TV or in movies.
Arbiters of the Head were always depicted as tall, sullen, and distinctly unjovial types in such media. But maybe that was just a movie trope, or something.
Summer mulled this over while pouring Joy her soda. The green liquid frothed violently in the cup as she handed it over, watching Joy take a long enough drink to drown many a weaker man.
“Wow,” she said, filling the completely drained cup a second time. “You really like that, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.” Joy sighed dreamily. “It’s so pog. I wonder what mountain it comes from.”
“...what?”
“You know, the mountain. The one in Mountain Dew.”
“It’s... I’m pretty sure they make it in a factory, actually, ma'am.”
Joy paused. “Oh, really? I never knew that. I always figured, you know... mountain... well, it just seemed like a natural conclusion, I guess.” So now Summer wondered how someone could become an Arbiter, of all things, and still not know that. Then again, for someone as positively clumsy as Joy seemed to be, it was a wonder she’d become an Arbiter at all. Summer didn’t even know that much about them but she was pretty sure that was the case.
...that was the case, right? This seemed like an awfully dangerous way to find out.