Thundering footsteps. Lana Skye, Los Angeles' Chief Prosecutor, ran through the streets having abandoned her car. The sound of buildings, collapsing behind her with each quaking step as she scrambled to find somewhere to get underground. The shadow towering above her, sealing the fate she continued to hope she could resist, followed by the towering figure of a high heeled shoe stretching, the toe alone above buildings, in to the sky. The sultry figure of her old colleague, Angel Starr, towering well beyond the clouds and large enough to wipe away neighborhoods in a few steps. Lana quivered, closing her eyes, only to find an immense bare foot stretching up above the entire city and then some when she opened them. She turned to run, only to find Angel's gigantic face in the sky above the country, her hands on either side of it. Resigned to crying in a corner, Lana looked up one last time to see Angel's fingers pinching the Earth, pulling it between her chest for a grand ending.
A doorbell. Knocking. Angel Starr woke up, hungover and in less clothes than she liked to be. She rose to her feet, one sock on, and grumbled something about how Lana would get hers one day. Pulling off her one sock and throwing on a robe for presentability, she stumbled to her door and signed the forms for her fresh food deliveries. Ever since she'd been fired, "Same shit different day" was her life motto. She was quite tired of it; there's nothing she'd love more than to shake things up, but it just wasn't happening.
"Hey, by the way..." mumbled the delivery boy, clearly nervous to talk to the woman. "We threw in a special ingredient today. Its a new genetically modified fish; we recommend you try it yourself first. It may have reactions to some allergies or other substances, though. The disclaimer is in its box."
Angel was intrigued. It was kinda depressing that "genetically modified fish" was her idea of an eventful day, but she was intrigued nonetheless. "Thanks... Jerry. Joey. Johnny." Angel wheeled her shipment inside and closed the door. Jesse walked away, stunned as he usually was from the unconventional mornings he had gotten used to delivering food to stay-at-home-chefs.
Entering her kitchen, Angel sneezed; it was pollen season and her allergy was getting the best of her. Excited for once to get started, she slipped off the robe and got to work cooking in her undies, as all people do when they've lost control of their lives. A few hours and a few dozen bentos later, she finally reached the special shipment. She skimmed the disclaimer list; unpredictable reactions to alcohol, chestnuts, Allergic Rhinitis, Coffea Liberica, some scientific names, and more mumbo jumbo she didn't care about. She fried it and made herself some tempura for breakfast, obviously, as well as a bento for later.
Downing her imported coffee, the one good thing she treated herself to, she finished off the uniquely tasty breakfast fried fish and went off to get dressed. She found her clothes to be slightly smaller than they were, but she chalked it up to bloat from the drinking. She'd bought them a size big anyway; you never know when you'll get a growth spurt. In her iconic coat, knee length plunging dress, hat and choker combo and a pair of heels, Angel Starr was ready to to hit the town and sell some meals!