“gentlemen. what we’re dealing with here, is no man, but a monster. so tell me why is it that we’ve completely lost trace of the femme genocider ?”
a man with a head shinier than the marble table slams his palms down furiously towards the respective suited-government goons that sat along the rim. they were nervous, tension was high, and someone probably farted. yet no one had the balls to answer this man.
“s-sir,” someone foolishly speaks, “if i may, the case in regards to the serial killer might as well be considered inactive. isn’t it enough that their killings have stopped all together? can’t we just leave it at that? because there’s... no way of finding him...” a swarm of papers rush into the speaker’s timid face. he had officially lost all speaking rights, because now was not the time to decide something as trivial as the case’s status. not when lives were still at risk, and that the killer was at large.
“within the last two months alone, 57 homicides have been reported, all female...” there was a stutter in his words, his composure was crumbling, and finally:
“... he took my fucking wife, guys.”
no one dared to speak, it was quite clear what they needed to do, but for now, there was no telling where the femme genocider might be and what he might be doing. for all they knew, it was definitely nothing good.
“um… what was that? relevant skills?”
“that would be correct, yes.”
maybe it wasn’t a good idea to wear a full-on business suit that wasn’t even his-but borrowed from his dad- to a fucking job interview at wacdonalds, but god dAMNIT, ten was in need of a job and he’d do almost anything to get it. ten’s streak of bad luck was finally going to break: is what he wanted to believe.
“well. let’s see.” a few hairs stick out at the center of his head. it was uncomfortably hot, he’s practically sweating, but the interviewer doesn’t notice- or at least, he doesn’t seem to. smiling crookedly only deepens the awkward mess that ten really is. he just wants this to be over, but to do that, he has to speak. but- how? use your bullshit powers, kid!
“one time, i drop kicked this guy mid air. he tried to steal my backpack,” because he had porn, “b-because I had these books that needed reading, for an upcoming test the next day. then he tried to grab me, but I stepped on his face and cracked his spine with my hand. s-so after I put him down, the police came-”
“holy shit.”
“.. so, then I-”
“no, dude. you’re hired.”
...wait what.
“wait- ...what?”
“yeah, we could totally use the extra man-power here to beef up the place. you’ve got the job!”
...man-power?
and so ten was hired, but not for his work ethics, but for his ability to kick ass. he had yet to understand how that would be applicable to his job, but when it comes to capitalism, nothing really matters. while being a wacdonalds staff wasn’t something to really show off, ten was still making hella cash. well. to some extent. three weeks after employment and he already burned his fingers in the fryer at least 12 times a day, slipped over wet signs every chance he got, and when it came to burger assembly, he places the buns inside the burger. normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem, but now that ten is crumbling under the pressure of the working class and having adulthood shoved up his ass just to fuck him over, he had yet to understand just why in the world he was working here.
untill...
“GUYS. WE HAVE A PROBLEM.” the manager bursts into the break room, belly jiggling with each stomp. it looked like little distance between the him and the table was enough to work a cold sweat, but really he was sweating for reasons that were much worse. with the little breath he had left, he gasped, “th- the girls at burger queefs- they’re here! it’s july 25th!”
“OH shit, already?!”
“WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE.”
as panic spreads among the fellow corporate slaves, ten only sits in confusion as only one thing crosses his mind.
“isn’t it called… burger ki-”
“burger queefs.”
“but that doesn’t make any-”
“DAMN IT TEN, DO YOU WANNA FUCK WITH THE COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT OR DO YOU WANNA KEEP THIS JOB?”
and so, our heroes, and ten, make their way to the back entrance where they met the four horsemen of the apocalypse, also known as burger queef’s staff. to ten’s dismay, they were women, and they were beautiful… strong… and fucking intimidating. this was probably the closest ten was gonna get to a girl in his entire life, and possibly his next lives. and as he went on and on about what to even say to the team that was assumingly wacdonald’s rival, he had forget to ask the real questions: what was going on? and why were they here?
but soon he would realize the true reason as to why he got hired.
“ji. you’re up.”
“AW DAMN IT.”
it was a battle to the death. well. almost-death. ever since burger queef’s opened directly in front of wacdonalds, they were pretty much asking for some sort of nuclear turf war. the manager insisted that they relocate, but they refused to listen because they had clearly wanted to test which food chain among the two was clearly the alpha. every year, they would battle, on july 25th. and every year the boys at wacdonalds would lose so bad that no one would dare dine at wacdonalds for the next three months as it would wreak of depression and disappointment. but this year, it was going to be different.
with Ji being the most reliable member of the team, you would think that with his thick arms, good posture, and killer smile he’d be able to kick burger queef’s ass. no. he was only good for one thing, and one thing only: attracting customers, not fighting girls. and the time it took to even read this was the amount of time it took for youngji from burger queef’s to completely destroy ji and secure victory.
“ji, you’re useless.” for once, ten agreed with the manager. his smart, well rounded, handsome mana-
“ten, you’re up.” nevermind.
“me?!” yes, you idiot, who else would be named after a number. in his defense, his parents hated him. nonetheless, ten stared his opponent straight in the cleavage face. her name was .. something he can’t remember, but for now let’s just call her ‘titanic f’s’ because that appears to be the estimated size of her chest.
“haven’t we met before?” huh?
“uh, no, i just moved from thaila-GGHCK” a swift kick to the face is what effectively shuts him up. toppling back against the ground, ten falls straight onto his back, laying flat and open for another blow, but beneath the fear and confusion, something inside ten, something pungently awful, snaps. for inexplicable reasons that only his muscles can remember and not his brain, ten propels himself forward, pushing himself off the ground the moment titanic titties raises her own leg with the intention of bashing his skull in. to counter, he lunges his foot forward
and straight into her crotch.
the ones on the sidelines visibly cringe as if somehow they could feel the same pain just by simply looking. booberang stumbles backwards, but regains her footing at the last second. then her eyes sharpen, but ten’s were sharper. despite the lack of space in the back alley, ten and big ass f’s go at it like a blowtorch to oil. and it wasn’t the type of fighting purely based on instinct. it was the type of fighting that the average fast food employee should not be capable of. they were running on walls, flipping through the air, bending and snapping in ways that should’ve crippled them for the rest of their lives, but no. if anyone had to guess, this was definitely going to drag out for days, plural.
“y-you’re pretty good,” she managed to smirk despite her feeble foot stance. ten remains on high alert, legs parted in a position that would launch him straight into her gut if it called for it. there was no telling if this were an act but if it was he wasn’t gonna fall for that shit again. however, nipplelodeon falls to the ground, face full of dirt, and completely knocks out.
this was where the burger queef manager gets desperate.
“blow this bitch to hell.”
and suddenly, ten found himself on a one sided threesome from hell. the remaining two girls from burger queef’s race at him like something from naruto, and he’s completely surrounded.
“s-sir, what do we do?!”
“fool. the match is over.”
what?
upon looking away for a mere second, ten went from hesitantly defensive to ready-to-smash-his-foot-into-that-girl’s-face offensive. the remaining member was splayed across the concrete, right next to tits-for-grabs.
“j-just...who in the hell are you,” said anonymous burger queef girl number two, fighting back the impulsive urge to vomit blood. when she gazes at ten, she only sees his darkened silhouette as the sun beats down from above. the look in his eyes were indifferent, as if he hadn’t just single handedly pummeled 3/4th’s of burger queef’s team.
“my name’s ten. and i’m gonna kick your ass.”
“and tHEN he went all ‘my name’s ten and i’m gonna kick your ass’!”
the boy’s erupted like ‘yOOOOOOO’ as they dined lavishly after closing with french fry bits and happy meal burgers. it was the greatest victory of all time. though the overwhelming praise got to tens red-burnt face, he wasn’t use to this sort of thing at all. his palms were still twitching from hours ago, still feeling the impact from his knuckles against solid supple skin. should he apologize to the girls later? they were really pretty... maybe he should try getting their numbers now that all of this was over-
“where’d you even learn to fight like that?!”
“...u-...uh.”
no, wait. that was a really good question. one that ten couldn’t find the answer to. where did he learn how to fight? was he bullied in school? no.. did he travel to china to train with the greatest martial artists..? no.... maybe his dad taught him to fight for some self defense thing. again, no. ten’s childhood was.. quite quiet, now that he thought about it. surely there must have been a perfectly good answer. he absolutely didn’t grow this ninja fighting skills over night, right...? for now, his mind was drawing a blank. thinking about it more than necessary was starting to give him a headache.
“honestly, i just copy shit from kung fu movies.”
once again, the boys erupt, but with confusion. there’s no way that ten was telling the truth, he’s got limp dicks for arms, c’mon! there’s gotta be more to it than that! with an arm throw around ten, the boys laugh like drunkenly obese beer belly uncles. he supposed that he’ll tell them all his ‘ninja secrets’ by the time he remembers. surely it wouldn’t be long.
he wore his work uniform to graduation day. but over that, he wore his class vest so it’s all good. no one noticed, though in pictures, you could see a bit of red peek out from beneath his get-up. his smiles were crooked, and his hair was a little messy. he nearly trips on the walk to get his diploma. luckily his parents were easy to spot in the bleachers. you couldn’t missed the way they waved wildly with banners screaming “YOU DID IT CHITTA-PHON! ★”. it was embarrassing. he’d wish they’d stop.
chittaphon, i didn’t think you’d make it this far! thanks for believing in him, mom...
son. you didn’t fuck up. and that’s what matters. dad always knew exactly what to say to, too...
“hello. i’m ten and this is jackasss,” the lack of enthusiasm makes it even harder to take him seriously. ten says to the handheld camera after a month or two since high school. he’s standing upright in a discarded shopping cart, padded with safety gear and several pillows duct taped to his body. This was his way of celebrating the completion of yet another school year. actually it originated as a dare from a former classmate saying that he’d pay ten to hurl over a steep-ass hill in the neighborhood next door. it was a subtle way of saying that he wanted ten to die. whether he meant it maliciously or jokingly, the boy didn’t know, but he went for it anyways. every year. every...fucking year.
“this is for, erm, nam who wanted me to document my near-death experience without actually being here. for precaution measures,” the camera swoops down to his general torso area, “i’ve duct taped, like, three pillows to myself, and tied a rope from this cart to uh, some tree.” he doubts that it would hold, though. “so anyways. If i die, mom and dad, i love you. also burn the shoe box under my bed.” because there’s porn inside.
Not sparing another second, ten hunches over the cart to remove the brick that held the cart still and faces the lenses forward as he began to roll. and he’s rolling… still rolling… wow it’s picking up a lot of momentum. Too much momentum, maybe…but then:
“oh shit,” he hisses quietly, and then a little more louder, “oh sHIT.” a boy stands in the middle of the street, directly in ten’s path. was he peeing?
it was the last proper thought in his head before he was flung out of the cart.
"STOP THROWING YOUR WACK ASS FRENCH FRIES AT ME I'M TRYING TO STUDY!" in which no one is studying and there's probably a sign that says no eating nearby but they're the rebel generation.
“what,” chucks a french fry,”was”another french,”that?” anOTHER ONE. his mouth is full of french fries. he doesn’t even close his mouth while he’s chewing. what a barbarian. “hey, i thought i’d bring a lil snack while we were working. do you know how many free-fucking-wacdonalds-shit i get after a shift? it’s enough to literally kill you cause of all the carbs. and i don’t wanna die. yet.” proceeding to thrust a cup of fries in daehyun’s direction, his throat rips into a groveled yell. “eAT SOME.”
"you there! put your hands up!”
“SUCK MY FARTS, COPPERS.”
freeze frame. this is chittaphon leechaiyapornkul, or better known as ‘ten’, and he’s about to get arrested. you might be wondering: what in the fuck did he do this time? but try not to misread the situation. It isn’t like that at all! ...probably.
literally five minutes earlier.
it’s morning. ten enjoys an entire day to himself filled with self-loathing and eroge dating sims, but before any of that, the convenience store calls as it had more to offer than his own refrigerator. flipping through the discount magazines in the convenience store, he catches sight of a shriveled old man standing next to him, also reading the latest issue of ‘beach babe banana’s’. ah… it was almost like seeing himself in the future 50 or so years from now, beautiful. he lets the thought marinate in his mind for a bit longer before deciding to purchase some pre-made noodles. for the very first time, the morning’s have appealed to ten as the tranquil vibes have sated him. this was what’s known as the calm before the storm.
as of today, CEO **** ******, president of ********* **** corporation’s bag has been stolen. the content includes the following: very classified documents. please keep a lookout for any possible suspects carrying this bag. more at 3. the television monitor boars through ten until he’s completely petrified. it was horrible. this was officially the worst morning ever. because what stares him back in the face is a simple light blue satchel, one that looks exactly like the bag he’s carrying right now. this was bad.
“g- … gotta get home,” is what he mumbles fearfully, collecting his things and scurrying out the sliding doors., but as he does so, he collides with an unsuspecting man. then...somehow… everything just fucking… falls out of his bag, and sweep through the breeze. normally, this would not matter, but for ten, if he didn’t move right now, his life would essentially come to a dramatic close. inside the bag that he clutches onto so protectively are … rough drafts to his upcoming raunchy-lewd-girls-love comic. the latter man proceeds to collect whatever papers flew into his direction. of course this was all out of courtesy, but little did he know..
“excuse me sir, you seemed to have dropped thi- GHCKK.” a swift kick in the gut is what keeps the man from fully digesting the image of two girls obsessively all over each other. ten doesn’t hesitate to swipe the papers from the latter’s hands. as if switching to ‘deus ex machina’ mode, the boy flips through the air, bending and twisting like a sci fi ninja to collect the rest of his papers. putting down anyone who crossed him.
“page 7… 8… 10.. 10?! where’s page 9?!” ah yes, page 9. the climax scene. probably the greatest page ten has ever drawn. the amount of effort, blood, sweat, tears, and other various fluids (like orange juice) that were put into this single page alone could be converted into currency. and that currency would end poverty. forever.
but where was page 9?
oh. there it was. floating gently towards the ground and in front of a set of shoes. the encounter of the century begins now.
