The Underwear – The Origin

Section 1: The Job Hunt

Ten years earlier.

Dave stepped out of an office building with another rejection behind him. At around 180 centimeters, he was tall and slim, with just a little lean muscle on an otherwise ordinary frame. He wore a clean white dress shirt tucked into black dress pants, polished black leather shoes, and carried a black briefcase in one hand. For an eighteen-year-old fresh out of high school, he looked unusually formal.

Dave had failed his college entrance exam after high school, so he had gone straight into the job market, hoping to find a decent entry-level office job. So far, it hadn’t gone well. The interviewer had taken one look at his résumé, noticed the lack of a college degree, and turned him down.

“Shit,” Dave muttered as he walked away. “Nowadays, you can’t even get a decent job without a college degree.”

As Dave walked down the street, a HELP WANTED sign in a restaurant window caught his eye.

DISHWASHER — MINIMUM WAGE

Dave stopped and stared at it. “Should I actually consider taking a job as a dishwasher?” He stood there thinking about it for five full seconds before shaking his head. “Fuck it.” He continued down the street, deciding to head home and send out a few more résumés instead.

Section 2: Bikini Guy

As Dave continued down the street, he spotted an unusually skinny man coming toward him. The man was bare-chested, his ribs clearly visible beneath his skin, and the only thing he wore below the waist was a tiny pink bikini bottom.

The pink underwear looked ridiculous. Stupid, even. But somehow, Dave thought it looked surprisingly stylish.

“Hey! Have you seen a kid with a butt chin around here?”

Dave looked up at him. A kid with a butt chin? He had no idea what that was supposed to look like, but it sounded weird enough.

“That little bastard ruined my bikini,” the skinny man continued. “I was taking a nap on a bench when he came over with a pair of scissors and cut my bikini top into pieces. Now look at me! My manly chest is completely exposed. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?”

As he complained, he spread his arms wide, making absolutely no attempt to cover his exposed rib cage.

Dave stared at him for a moment. “No idea.”

The skinny man’s expression hardened. “I’m well known around this neighborhood as Bikini Guy, and I’m definitely not someone you mess around with.”

He raised his right hand and extended his index and middle fingers like a pair of scissors. Then, without taking his eyes off Dave, he reached toward the metal pole of a parking sign beside him.

SNAP.

With one quick squeeze, his two fingers cut straight through the pole. The parking sign crashed onto the sidewalk as Dave stared at the clean break. He was genuinely amazed. He had never imagined a human being could cut through metal with nothing but two fingers.

Bikini Guy lowered his hand. “When I find that little bastard, I’m gonna chop his damn head off.”

With that, he turned and hurried off down the street, continuing his search for the butt-chinned kid. Dave didn’t care. He simply continued on his way home as if none of it had anything to do with him.

Section 3: The Butt-Chinned Kid

A few minutes later, Dave casually strolled past Playground Quel’Thalas, his briefcase swinging at his side. It was hot enough that he had to pull out a handkerchief and wipe the sweat from his forehead.

As he passed the entrance, something inside the playground caught his eye.

A young boy was sitting on the ground with a pair of scissors, surrounded by pieces of cardboard, glue, wooden sticks, and scraps of fabric. In front of him was a half-finished model, with several pieces of bright pink fabric carefully attached to it. The boy pulled out a tissue and wiped the crack of his butt-shaped chin.

Dave slowed to a stop.

The chin had two rounded bulges separated by a deep crease, making it look exactly like a butt. He immediately realized that this had to be the butt-chinned kid Bikini Guy was looking for.

Dave glanced at the bright pink fabric on the model, then at the scissors in the boy’s hand. It didn’t take much to figure out where the fabric had come from.

Before Dave could give it any more thought, a furious voice suddenly rang out from across the playground.

“You little bastard!”

Dave turned. Bikini Guy was charging straight toward them, his ribs bouncing with every step and his two scissor-like fingers already raised.

The boy looked up from his model. “Huh?”

Bikini Guy stormed up to the boy and pointed at the strip of pink fabric attached to the model. “How dare you cut up my bikini top and use it on this stupid toy! I’m gonna chop your damn head off!”

The boy screamed and scrambled backward across the ground, pushing himself away with both hands. He was so terrified that a dark wet patch quickly spread across the front of his pants.

Bikini Guy lunged forward, his scissor-like fingers shooting toward the boy’s neck. Before they could reach him, Dave suddenly stepped in front of the boy and slapped Bikini Guy’s hand aside with one hand.

“You again?” Bikini Guy snapped. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

Dave wasn’t even sure why he had jumped in. Maybe it had just been a sudden impulse.

“Hey, come on, man. It was just a stupid little prank. You’re really gonna chop a kid’s head off over that?”

Bikini Guy let out a goofy, stupid laugh.

“I’ve killed people for less. Guh-huh-huh-huh!”

Bikini Guy immediately thrust his two scissor-like fingers toward Dave’s neck. Dave reacted on instinct, catching both fingers in one hand and clamping them together before they could open. Then, without hesitation, he swung his other fist hard into the side of Bikini Guy’s face.

BAM!

Bikini Guy flew nearly a meter sideways and crashed onto the ground. He didn’t get back up.

Still sitting on the ground, the boy looked up at Dave. “Thanks for saving my life, middle-aged dude.”

Dave looked down at him, then took another look at the boy’s butt-shaped chin. It really did look ridiculous.

Without saying a word, Dave turned around and walked away.

Section 4: The Copycat

Briefcase still in hand, Dave continued down the street. As he passed a massage parlor, he noticed a man standing outside. The man wore a white dress shirt tucked into black dress pants, polished black leather shoes, and gold-rimmed glasses. A black briefcase hung from one hand, while the other held a can of Red Bull.

It was Michael, Captain Lam.

Dave immediately stared at him. Michael stared back. Dave kept walking, but his head slowly turned as he passed, his eyes remaining locked on Michael. Michael did exactly the same, following Dave with his eyes while taking another sip of Red Bull.

Finally, Michael lowered the can. “What are you looking at?” His eyes moved over Dave’s white shirt, black pants, leather shoes, and briefcase. “If I ever see you copying my outfit again, I’m gonna chop your damn head off.”

A bead of cold sweat appeared on Dave’s forehead. He immediately faced forward and quickened his pace, disappearing down the street without looking back.

Section 5: The Supermarket Robbery

Dave eventually stopped by a supermarket to pick up something for dinner. At the seafood section, he stood in front of a tank of live crabs, watching them crawl over one another as he wondered whether he should have crab that night.

While he was still deciding, a man suddenly stepped in front of him and grabbed him by the collar with one hand, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He was tall and lean, with messy side-swept bangs falling over one eye and a silver earring. His button-up shirt was only half fastened, exposing his slim, defined chest, while ripped jeans and polished leather shoes completed the outfit. It was Sean—ten years younger, back when he was still a street gangster. The only thing missing from his familiar appearance was the Chinese flag he would later wear as a cape.

“Give me all your money. Right now.”

Dave hesitated for a few seconds. After what had happened with Bikini Guy earlier, he was feeling a little more confident than usual. He looked Sean in the eye.

“No.”

Sean took a slow drag from his cigarette. Without another word, he twisted his grip on Dave’s collar, turned his body, and hurled him over his shoulder.

BAM!

Dave’s back slammed hard against the supermarket floor. Pain shot through his body, but he quickly pushed himself back to his feet.

“You’re robbing me in broad daylight, inside a supermarket, with all these people around? Even if I can’t beat you, there’s no way you’re getting away with this. There’s strength in numbers.”

He looked around. People kept shopping. A woman nearby was carefully picking through vegetables. The cashiers kept scanning groceries as if nothing had happened. Farther down one of the aisles, three middle-aged men were sitting on the floor playing poker. Not a single person seemed to care about the robbery happening right in front of them.

Dave looked around one more time. “Shit. I was wrong.” He couldn’t believe this level of indifference actually existed in real life.

Dave suddenly swung a fist at Sean’s face. Sean tilted his head aside and let it miss.

Dave threw another punch. Sean leaned back just enough for the fist to pass in front of his nose. Dave immediately followed with a third, harder swing, but this time Sean simply raised one forearm and stopped it cold.

Sean looked at him through the smoke from his cigarette. “Too weak. Too slow.”

Dave barely had time to react before Sean stepped in. “I’m gonna beat you up and fuck you good, right here, right now.”

Then Sean unloaded on him.

Punches and kicks crashed into Dave from every angle. He tried to cover up, but Sean kept breaking through his guard, hammering him backward across the seafood section. A final kick caught Dave clean and sent him flying straight into the live-crab tank.

CRASH!

The tank shattered on impact. Water poured across the floor as Dave collapsed among the broken glass, soaked from head to toe and barely able to move. Live crabs scattered across the wet tiles around him.

Sean walked over, grabbed Dave by the hair, and gave him several quick slaps across the face. He searched Dave’s pockets, took every dollar he could find, then picked up the black briefcase and casually tossed it into another seafood tank.

“I fucking hate wannabe businessmen like you,” Sean said. “Fuck you.”

Then he turned and walked away.

Section 6: Business as Usual

The supermarket simply carried on as usual. Shoppers stepped around the water and continued picking out groceries, while the cashiers kept scanning items at the registers. Down the aisle, a fourth middle-aged man joined the poker game on the floor, and the game continued as if nothing had happened. No one paid any attention to Dave lying soaked and motionless beside the shattered crab tank.

Hours passed. By the time the supermarket was preparing to close, Dave had finally recovered enough strength to move. Most of the customers were already gone when a security guard walked over and looked down at him.

“Excuse me, sir. We’re closing now. You’re welcome to come back tomorrow, but for now, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”

Dave slowly pushed himself off the floor. Still soaked, bruised, and barely steady on his feet, he staggered out of the supermarket and began the long walk home.

Section 7: Crab for Dinner

By the time Dave finally made it home, it was already late. He dragged himself through the door, exhausted and bruised, before suddenly remembering something.

“Shit. I didn’t buy any groceries. What am I gonna eat for dinner?”

Then he felt something tugging at his pants. Dave looked down and found two live crabs still clinging tightly to his black dress pants with their claws. He stared at them for a few seconds, then smiled.

“Oh, great. I think I’m going to have crab for dinner after all.”

That night, Dave made a life-changing decision. He wasn’t going to look for another office job. What happened that day had taught him something far more important: in a world where people could cut through metal with their fingers, rob someone in broad daylight, and watch a man get beaten half to death without lifting a finger, a college degree wasn’t going to save him. If he wanted to survive in this absurd kung fu world, he needed to become strong.

The next day, Dave cleared out his basement. He bought weights, exercise equipment, enough food and water to last for a long time, and carried everything downstairs. Then he closed the basement door behind him.

From that day forward, Dave stopped looking for a job.

He started training.