Humanity Vs.The Master Chickens!!!!

The Future... of the Past

The year...

2845.

Of the future.

That is somehow...

...from the past.

Nobody really understood how that worked.

The scientists tried.

The historians tried.

One philosopher stared at a wall for three straight weeks before resigning.

Eventually humanity agreed to stop asking questions.

There were far more important problems.

Like the fact that half of Earth had been conquered by twelve-foot-tall martial arts chickens.

Not ordinary chickens.

Master Chickens.

Creatures capable of splitting tanks in half with a single wing strike.

Creatures capable of running at 180 miles per hour.

Creatures capable of perfectly executing a flying spinning roundhouse kick.

Creatures...

...that somehow laid square eggs.

Nobody questioned that either.

For nearly fifty years humanity had fought the relentless Master Chicken Empire.

Every city.

Every continent.

Every beach.

Every fast-food restaurant.

Nothing was sacred.

Humanity had held the line through grit...

Determination...

And an unhealthy amount of explosions.

But recently...

The Master Chickens had unveiled a horrifying super weapon.

The...

Cluckification Cannon.

One blast...

One human...

One very confused new Master Chicken.

Humanity wasn't just losing soldiers.

They were making enemy reinforcements.

Morale had plummeted.

Hope was fading.

But...

Seventy-two hours from the future...

that was technically the past...

Humanity prepared its answer.

Human High Command

General Buffalo H. Ranch kicked open the conference room doors.

They weren't locked.

They weren't even closed.

He kicked them open anyway.

The doors slammed against the walls so hard that three coffee mugs committed suicide.

Buffalo Ranch marched into the room.

Thirty-seven years old.

Green eyes.

Military physique.

Magnificent mustache.

A mustache so powerful military scientists once attempted to classify it as a melee weapon.

His uniform shirt remained completely unbuttoned because...

"...Buttons restrict freedom."

No one knew what that meant.

No one wanted to ask.

He slammed both hands onto the conference table.

"LISTEN UP YOU CHICKEN-FIGHTIN', FREEDOM-LOVIN', GLORY-STEALIN' ASSHATS!!"

Silence.

"..."

General P. BBQ slowly raised her hand.

Twenty-nine.

Black ancestry.

Brown eyes.

Black hair.

Calm.

Intelligent.

One of humanity's finest strategists.

She sighed.

"Question."

Buffalo pointed dramatically.

"YOU MAY SPEAK!!"

"...Why are you yelling?"

"I'M MOTIVATED!!"

"...We're six feet away."

"I WANT TO MAKE SURE YOU HEAR ME."

"...We can."

"Oh."

He paused.

"..."

Then immediately resumed shouting.

"ANY OTHER QUESTIONS?!"

BBQ pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Yes."

Buffalo groaned.

"Why do you always call the laboratory staff sexless nerds?"

"They ARE nerds!"

"So?"

"They wear glasses!"

"...Buffalo..."

She leaned back with a smug grin.

"I've dated a nerd."

Buffalo blinked.

"...What?"

"They're surprisingly adventurous."

Several generals nodded knowingly.

Buffalo looked horrified.

"...GENERAL P. BBQ!! MY LACK OF SEX IS NOT THE ISSUE HERE!!"

"Oh yes it is."

Another voice entered the conversation.

"General Dumbass."

General Lemon Pepper had spoken.

Thirty years old.

Japanese ancestry.

Brown eyes.

Jet-black hair.

Always looked like he hadn't slept enough to deal with Buffalo Ranch.

Buffalo slowly turned.

"...Excuse me?"

"I said..."

Lemon looked him directly in the eyes.

"General Dumbass."

"THAT'S GENERAL BUFFALO H. RANCH TO YOU!!"

"GENERAL."

"DON'T."

"DUMBASS."

"I SWEAR TO-"

"DUMBASS."

The two men continued arguing.

Neither actually advancing the conversation.

General P. BBQ had completely stopped listening.

Instead...

She smiled to herself.

Remembering one particularly unforgettable evening with one very special laboratory scientist.

"...Definitely not sexless..."

she muttered with a faint blush.

A fourth voice interrupted.

"Ladies."

"Gentlemen."

"Children."

General Mango Habanero folded her arms.

Thirty-two.

Mexican ancestry.

Calm...

...for approximately twelve seconds.

"Our soldiers are currently fighting for humanity while you three argue over Buffalo's complete inability to function like an adult."

She looked directly at him.

"...General Dumbass."

The room exploded into laughter.

Buffalo clenched his fists.

"LAUGH IT UP!!"

He reached beneath the conference table.

"BECAUSE TODAY..."

Metal slowly rose from beneath the floor.

Blue energy lines glowed across polished titanium.

Every general immediately stopped laughing.

The room became silent.

"..."

"..."

"...No way."

P. BBQ stood.

"They actually built it?"

Buffalo slowly grinned.

"Oh yeah."

"The lab nerds did it."

He dramatically removed a black cloth.

"Ladies and gentlemen..."

"I PRESENT..."

THE CHICKEN FRYER 9000!!

Spotlights activated.

No one knew where they came from.

Military budget.

The rifle gleamed magnificently.

An advanced assault weapon.

Titanium frame.

Plasma battery.

Quantum targeting system.

Three glowing buttons on the side.

Lemon Pepper picked it up carefully.

"..."

"...No..."

He looked closer.

"...It actually has frying modes."

Buffalo nodded proudly.

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT."

Lemon read the selector.

"...Original."

Click.

"...Crispy."

Click.

"...Extra Crispy."

The room fell silent.

Then...

General Mango Habanero's eyes sparkled.

"They're beautiful..."

Buffalo nodded proudly.

"ONE SHOT."

"ONE MASTER CHICKEN."

"ONE FAMILY DINNER."

P. BBQ looked genuinely impressed.

"...The lab nerds may actually save humanity."

Somewhere in Laboratory Sector Seven...

Three scientists sneezed simultaneously.

Suddenly alarms blared.

WARNING.

WARNING.

MASTER CHICKEN ARMY DETECTED.

A holographic officer appeared.

"General!"

"A force of over ten thousand Master Chickens is marching toward the capital!"

Buffalo grinned.

His mustache somehow looked even more patriotic.

He grabbed the Chicken Fryer 9000.

"PERFECT!!"

He slung it over his shoulder.

"LET'S GO POP SOME C.F. 9000 CHERRIES!!"

The four generals marched toward the exit.

P. BBQ smirked.

"...Probably the only cherry you've ever popped."

Buffalo looked offended.

"I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW..."

"I HAVE AN ENTIRE BAG OF CHERRIES IN MY REFRIGERATOR."

Silence.

P. BBQ slowly closed her eyes.

"..."

"...Dumbass."

Next Time...

The four legendary generals enter the battlefield!

Can humanity's newest superweapon stop the relentless Master Chickens?

Will the Chicken Fryer 9000 actually work?

And why do the Master Chickens keep screaming "BUKAW!!" before performing spinning jump kicks?

Find out in...

Chapter 2: Baby, You Fried My World!!