Hostile Takeout
By @john1208
I didn't plan on becoming the city's most feared hitwoman. I was just a broke single mother sprinting across neon rooftops, dodging plasma fire with a lukewarm burrito strapped to my back because my toddler needed diapers and my teenage brother needed tuition. When the snobby [Epicurean Concierge System] awakened in my head, its melodramatic phrasing - like [Eliminate the Target's Cravings] and [Execute the Banquet] - convinced me it was an underworld assassination interface. Naturally, my strategy is simple: kick down the penthouse doors of the Krepis District, violently force-feed the bewildered elites their orders, and secure five-star ratings through sheer intimidation. Every completed 'hit' rewards me with life-changing perks, from a self-cleaning apartment to an indestructible baby stroller. The System's AI constantly screams at me for ruining the plating, while the city’s actual top assassin falls madly in love with his terrifying new rival. But as I accidentally dismantle the criminal underworld one hot meal at a time, what happens when the local syndicates put a bounty on my head right as I get a massive catering order for their boss?
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