Man I got so hungry writing this chapter. Like fuck, I could go for some fries rn fr.

After Two’s match, Kobe and Vorelando had to book it across town to make it in time for One’s match. Double time if they wanted to get a burger and fries beforehand, which Vorelando was rather insistent they did.

Sitting down in the competitors seats once again, Vorelando started digging into his fries.

“Oh man these are so good.”

“They can’t be that good.” Kobe responded.

“No for real, these are like the best fries I’ve ever had.”

“Stop playing Vo, ain’t no way they’re better than Father Francis’ Fuckoff Fries.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about fries man. These are like, the peak of fries.”
“No way.”
“The zenith of the culinary medium. The apex of flavour. The summit of potato based sustenance. These specific fries have redefined what fries even are in my mind. They have gone beyond any previous fries, the have reached passed our foolish, narrow notions of what fries can even be.”

Kobe let out a bass filled laugh.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Just try one.” Vorelando said, offering him a solitary fry.

Kobe took it and inspected it. Giving it one particularly aggressive sniff, he popped it in his mouth.

“OK, that was pretty good, not gonna lie.”

“I told you, no lies when it comes to fries.”

Vorelando viciously attacked his fries as Kobe got out his notepad, as it was time for the voring to begin. They had been graced with some extra time to swing by Father Francis’ fries because One’s match was delayed. The match before him had been so bloody, they required extra time to scrape the top bars of the cage clean.

Voratorium 3 was manned by Mark Stackedbuns, known for his regressive takes on voring and his absolute dumptruck ass.

“Now I don’t think it should take this long to clean one measely cage, with all due respect. Back in my day, we would’ve just played on with chunks of flesh raining down on us as we vored. It’s the spirit of the game.” Mark exclaimed into his mic.

One of the interns had to come up to Mark to tell him to move on to the next match.

“I just don’t like it Chris. I just don’t like it. Anyway, let’s move on, forget about it. I just don’t like it… Anyway, our next match is a banger ladies and gentlemen.”

The lights went out and the spotlight beamed down upon One. He had absolutely dripped out since Kobe and Vorelando had seen him yesterday. The confidant black shirt unbuttoned to reveal his Scorpion Boys tattoo. Gold chains out the ass that would’ve snapped a lesser man’s neck in two. Dual Rolexes on each those clean wrists that hung beside his smart trousers which were held onto his body with a thin leather belt. To top it all off, a pair of fresh Js, black and red and extremely nice.

“Damn, my boy is all drip, with all due respect. I feel bad for the other guy. Who is the other guy again? Oh yeah, gotta go in order. That man is One, one of the two remaining Scorpion Boys, the other one being Two. He’s currently enrolled in… Voregia State, yeah.”

The spotlight swings around to One’s opponent.

“In the other corner… I just don’t like it Chris, I just don’t… in the other corner, we have Josef Gulp out of Voregia Tech.”

A tall, vaguely European looking man in a gray tracksuit was One’s opponent today.

“That’s him? That’s *the* Scorpion Dude? Ha! He don’t look so tough, look at his clothes, Mr. Dripless over here.”

“I assure you, I am drippin.” One responded.

“Start the match fellas, I’m tryna get home to a turkey sandwich.” Mark said.

It took One and Josef a second to get going because they had both been expecting more time to trash talk. But Mark had given his indication to start, and that was all that was required to make it official.

“Alright, Juan, let’s see how you like this.”

Josef fell to the ground and started retching. He slobbered saliva and blood all over the ground in front of him. Soon, a large lump appears in his throat, and an arm starts sticking out of his mouth. He regurgitates an adult man, but it doesn’t stop there. He keeps retching until he has thrown no less than 10 men up onto the ground.

“What the fuck, that can’t be legal???” Vorelando screamed through his mouthful of fries.

“Oh my word, that is 11 men in a cage, covered in stomach acid bar one of them, fighting just one lone hero, One. I don’t like it Chris, I really don’t, you wouldn’t have seen this in the 40s, you would’ve seen competition.” Mark bemoaned.

“Get them out of the fucking cage, this is meant to be a one on one match!” Vorelando shouted through an even larger mouthful of fries.

“This is one on one Vo. I don’t like it, but it’s one on one.” Kobe said to his bewildered friend.

“?????????” Vorelando responded.

“I checked this before the match, all 11 of those bodies are legally the same person, they’re a hivemind controlled by the main Josef body. It’s a legal play.”

“My god.”

In the cage all 11 of Josef’s bodies were dancing aggressively at One.

“So, Mr. Scorpion, do you want to give up? There’s no way you can win against us, there’s more where these guys came from.”

One hung his head in his hands.

“Ha. Haha. Bwahahahahahahahah!”

His laughter was decidedly sinister. The kind of laugh that a serial killer mentally does when they spot a lone hitchhiker. A laugh that says ‘this is too easy’.

“Listen here, mongrel. You are dirt. No matter how many of you there are, that will remain the case. Perhaps you were right in a way, as much as dirt can be right. I can’t win against dirt, to say I did would be tantamount to saying I beat a corpse in a boxing match. No, less than that, at least a corpse wouldn’t be so brazenly ignorant of its peril.”

“Charge him!” the main Josef screamed.

As he did, One smiled and raised his arm. As he did so, several rows of mouths manifested behind him.