The history of Bueno Nacho was a short and rather boring one, contrary to what some fans of the franchise would say. While it had seen popularity across the United States in its heyday, the sudden reveal that their taco 'meat' contained what was later determined to be ground rodent flesh hit the chain with a financial decline that would make the Stock Market Crash of 1929 seem like a minor blip in comparison. Restaurants closed practically overnight, the higher executives fled the country with as much money as they could physically carry, and the US would have been bereft of the grease-soaked sombrero in totality… were it not for the one surviving location in downtown Middleton.
Bueno Nacho Store #582 was identical to all of its fellows, having come from a line of prefabricated building parts expressly designed to withstand the buildup of as much grease as physically possible. Every detail, from the chintzy tiles in the floors, to the synthetic 'cheez' that glistened disturbingly within its percolator, screamed to potential consumers that they should stay as far away from it as humanly possible.
And yet, Bueno Nacho somehow managed to endure. Despite the odds being fervently against it, the neglected restaurant managed to eke out a miserable existence in the shadow of the growing Drakktech conglomerate, serving questionably edible meals to college students, interns, and other such individuals who cared very little about the things that entered their bodies. In defiance of conventional logic the store maintained enough income to survive even as the city expanded around it, leaving it in the shadows and dust.
That would all change as soon as you walked through the front door. Naturally it wouldn't do to be seen in your Most Hated Enemy's city without some sort of disguise, so you went all out on this one. Taking a page from your grandfather Jose, you had obtained a large sombrero, an authentic poncho, and a very convincing fake mustache to play the part of a potential buyer for the much-maligned eatery. Everyone you pass must think you some sort of tortilla magnate- you can tell because they're all staring at you!
The very first thing that struck you when you entered the front door was the overwhelming scent of old beef that seemed to permeate the very walls themselves. Having endured Drusselsteinian cooking for much of your early life, you took this new development in stride.
The second thing you noticed was the incredibly tacky ofrenda someone had set up at the first table on your left. It was covered in multicolored fabrics in eye-searing shades of yellow, red, and orange, bearing a pot of flowers, several plates of exposed food which even the flies seemed reluctant to touch, and a portrait of a gangly-looking teen that was draped in black. A plaque below the photo read "IN MEMORIAM OF RON STOPPABLE: THE IRON GUT."
"Eesh. Poor kid…" you muttered, thinking about how fast food would be a terrible way to go. The ofrenda being right in the front of the restaurant probably wasn't doing wonders for business either, you could easily see how a lot of people could get creeped out by it. The restaurant was almost entirely devoid of customers save for a few college kids squeezing themselves into a booth. A tall, muscle-bound man crammed into a tacky patterned shirt approached you, quickly shifting the look of deep-set misery and despair off of his face to a well-practiced grin.
"Hello, and welcome to Bueno Nacho, the cheesiest place in all of Middleton!" Ugh, that was what they were using as a slogan? That was awful, and you were one to talk considering how you still haven't finished your own company's jingle. "How can I help you today?"
"Dos Vedanyas, uh… Heggo," you say, mispronouncing the name on his tag, "It turns out that I'm your new boss! The offer just went through a couple minutes ago when I wired the money to one of the higher-ups. Seriously, he was a professional. It's like he didn't even care that I was working for… uh… someone that wasn't Shego! That means that I am the..." you start to say 'proud' before realizing that even you can't force that word out under these circumstances, "...owner of this place! I have the signatures right here."
"WHAT?!" you hear the wiry man from behind the cash register scream. His eyes have widened to almost comical proportions behind his rimmed glasses and his jaw had dropped enough to accommodate one of those 'grande sized' nacho platters the poster on the wall was going on about. "HEGO! HOW COULD YOU HAVE SOLD BUENO NACHO?!"
"Ned, we talked about this. I'm just the manager, not the owner! I've got no control over who buys the place or not, and if he has the deed that means he owns it!"
"Yeah, well the deed to the place is locked away in the safe right next to the secret recipes! He's not getting his hands on it!" You sigh, pretty sure there's not a place on Earth that requires you to actually hold the deed in order to attain ownership. That's not how property law works.
"Now go on, show me around the place!"
You followed 'Hego' into the back, trying to stay positive. You were purchasing a piece of your Most Hated Enemy's home city, surely this would all be worth it! And then… you were shown the fryers. And the grease traps. And the refrigerator. None of them had looked like they'd been cleaned for the past fourteen years, and 'Ned' was proud to point out that the fryer oil had been the exact same since the day the restaurant opened… meaning, allegedly, that it had absorbed some of the flavor of every food before it!
Said oil was the color of pitch and had the consistency of treacle, sticking to the fried food unerringly as it was pulled out of the molten vat. You stepped back and winced just in time to avoid a bubble of the stuff splattering onto the floor. It was then that you realized the tiles were not, in fact, white and black patterns but rather a pure white that had become marred over time.
In a small act of mercy the fridge happened to be clean, but you were unable to find even one scrap of fresh food inside. Absolutely everything was preserved, canned, or jarred, many of them with an ingredients list like a small novella which contained enough preservatives to mummify a small dog.
"And now, to the office! Let's go!" Hego proclaimed triumphantly, leading you to a very small room filled with a desk containing an ancient computer from '03, stacks of papers, and a squat safe built into the wall. "Here you go, new owner! Your well-earned deed!" the large man declared as he twisted the safe's dial to unlock it. Ned's face twisted in anger with each successive number entered.
The paper the deed was written on was so thoroughly saturated with grease that it was nearly transparent, but what was far more interesting were the 'secret recipes' that were also located inside the safe! It turned out that the geniuses in the restaurant had been utilizing resiniferatoxin, an analogue of capsaicin that was nearly a thousand times hotter, to give their hot sauces some extra kick. Your mind whirled with possibilities for a few moments before you pushed it down- this would definitely merit some further research!
All in all, you managed to obtain a foothold in your Most Hated Enemy's home city, though the quality of the place left much to be desired. You'd have to perform some major overhauls before it approached anything resembling a state that could produce items fit for human consumption. All in a day's work, you supposed."This… is going to take some doing."
"I'll say." a very familiar voice spoke from behind you. You froze, slowly turning around to see a slender, athletic woman with long black hair and pale green skin. She was watching you with a disdainful expression, but you were more concerned about whether her hands would start glowing green and make things explode.
"Ah, Most Hated Enemy Shego! How unexpected! And by unexpected, I mean COMPLETELY EXPECTED!" you cried, whipping off your disguise. Shego blinked a few times in response to this declaration, clearly she was in shock from your brilliant misdirection. "How does it feel to know that you have finally been outwitted by me? For you see, now I finally own a piece of your home territory and greatest city! The single chink in your otherwise impenetrable armor has been exploited by none other than me, Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz!"
Shego glared at you, which meant that you were probably getting under her skin! Undeterred, you continued on with your declaration. "This is only the start of my plans to fully take over the Tri-State Area! It may be an uphill battle, but I will eventually turn this place into the greatest fast food restaurant of all time, and… uh… well, admittedly I haven't thought past that yet, but it seems like it's going to come in handy somehow!"
Shego's glare seemed to intensify as you continued on your motive rant, right up until her face snapped back to a disinterested expression as she cut you off.
"Uh huh, uh huh. Listen. I don't know how you do things in the 'sovereign nation of Doofania-'" she makes sarcastic air quotes as she says this "-but here, we have a few rules. Number one, we don't go after secret identities. That's the sort of shtick Syndrome would pull and then laugh about how they'd get ruined afterwards. Number two, don't write a collateral damage check your reputation can't cash. Everyone tolerates the games right up until some psycho vaporizes thirty people and gets everyone else in the state gunning for his head."
She stands up fully and fixes you with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
"And most importantly, we don't go after families!"
"Hi sis!" said Hego, waving from behind you. "I don't suppose you'll let me join one of those superhero groups you have going? I don't know if I told you the last time I left a message on your phone, but I applied for a teaching position at Sky Hi--"
"They're not superheroes." Shego snaps to Hego. "So if you think you can perpetuate this 'rivalry' with me by doing something to him, then-"
"Oh, this is your brother!" You realize belatedly, imagining the large man in a form-fitting jumpsuit with black and a solid color. "I see the resemblance! He seems nice."
Shego blinks. She starts to say something then cuts herself off. "You… ugh. You really were here for Bueno Nacho, weren't you?"
"Uh… yyyyeah?" you say reluctantly. "What I'm hearing seems to suggest that you for some reason don't care that I am now the proud owner of-"
"No. No, I don't really care that you own the last building of the worst fast food franchise in the country. You wanna know why? Because it isn't important." She glances down at her nails idly.
"But… but this will be your undoing!"
"Yeah, right. What are you going to do, make me eat the quesarrito-naco special?"
"Hey! No one could ever prove that the Naco was responsible!" Ned pipes up, sounding like he's been personally offended.
"Ned, it didn't test well in focus groups!"
"Quiet Hego! The Naco is innocent, and any rumors to the contrary are slander of the most vicious kind!"
You clear your throat. "Ahem. Now I own a piece of property right in the middle of the Drakktech conglomerate! How are you not angry about this, Shego?"
"Because selling things is what companies do? I'm not that picky with who I sell them to. I mean, I'm not gonna sell it to Kronos because their CEO's a nut who likes watching supers bite it, but anyone else is fair game."
"Huh. Well… Hego! How would you like to come work for me?"
Hego shrugs, adjusting his tie awkwardly.
"I have to admit, I'm a little unsure about working for someone with 'evil' in their company's name. What exactly would you have me be doing?"
"Oh, you know. All kinds of stuff! Making sure my employees remain safe, providing benefits for all the people under my employ, keeping things secure… you know, stuff like that!"
"Really? Well..." He briefly struggles with the idea before excitedly taking off. "It's been too long since I put on the old Team Go uniform! I've got so much to pack!"
He runs off excitedly leaving you and Shego alone.
"HEGO! You forgot to clock out!"
Ned's there too, but he doesn't really count. You both ignore him as Shego nears closer to you.
"Listen. You have to realize a few things. My idiotic brother still thinks he's back in the Golden Age. You know, Mr. Incredible, Boss Awesome, Gazerbeam?"
"Uh…"
"Yeah, things don't work that way anymore. You don't get the mutual respect between foes, you get a pair of professional death dealers that are just short of killing one another in most fights. Hego? He doesn't understand that. Why else do you think I've been paying idiots to throw themselves at him so he could feel important?"
"Because…?"
"Because someone like the Birthday Bandit, or whatever the hell that idiot in the bird suit called himself, isn't going to go all out. I pay their hospital bills, give them some Drakktech stock on the side, and the illustrious 'Team Go' stays out of things like the drug trade. You get what I'm saying?"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." you agreed. It was kind of odd how Shego was behaving so seriously all of a sudden.
"You'd better get it, because otherwise you'll learn what it really means to be my enemy."
---
Hego has been unlocked as a Hero Unit! Shego has made her feelings on his employment very clear!
Some like it red hot! Resiniferatoxin research option unlocked!
Cheap fast food and stomach cramps are now available whenever!
