Half a month later, in Hell's Kitchen, New York, a restaurant was preparing ingredients for the day's business. It was obvious that the restaurant's sanitation was terrible. Sewage was everywhere, and roaches and rats even crawled about freely.
The employees turned a blind eye to it. What a joke. How could such a super-cheap, low-end restaurant afford proper sanitation?
Besides, even good sanitation would be useless, because there was something wrong with the restaurant's meat. Of course, it wouldn't kill anyone, at worst giving them diarrhea. Dying was not that easy.
"Why bother with sanitation? Fry it in oil once and all the germs will be gone. Maybe you'll even get a free rat and a few roaches?"
In the kitchen, Big Fatty, whose clothes had clearly not been washed in who knew how many days, laughed loudly. The others laughed as well, treating sanitation as a complete joke.
Rich people would never come to their restaurant. The people who came were all poor. They knew exactly what such low prices meant. One was willing to sell, the other was willing to buy.
Another skinny man grabbed a roach and imitated someone's tone. "Tastes like chicken, nice and crunchy."
"If you've got the guts, eat it."
Everyone egged him on. The skinny man was about to speak when the roach in his hand suddenly began vibrating violently, even injuring his finger. He cried out in pain and threw the roach to the floor.
Before the skinny man could do anything, the roach suddenly began growing wildly. In the blink of an eye, it became larger than a person. Then, it opened its Big Mouth and bit down on the skinny man's head, lifting him up. Two seconds later, his body, along with a large amount of blood, fell to the