Fast Food and Flashbacks
Brian sat in a McDonald’s, slowly biting into his McNuggets and taking sips of Sweet Tea. After a long, exhausting day of work, there was something weirdly satisfying about eating a greasy, unhealthy meal. It felt like one of the few real pleasures left in life.
As he ate, his mind drifted back—to those early days, way before the power. Before people called him Golden Eyes. Back then, nothing came easy.
It might seem now like the ability was something he was born with. But that’s only what people on the outside saw. The truth was, it came from a long, brutal process. One that almost broke him.
His thoughts went back to one summer during high school.
He and Colin were sitting in another McDonald’s, just like now. Back then, they ordered Big Nuggets and talked for hours.
“I’ve been training for months,” Brian had said. “Still can’t get the golden eyes. Seriously, man. Is there some secret you’re not telling me?”
Colin stayed calm, as always. “You have to focus. Like, really focus. Put all your attention into your eyes. Every bit of brainpower you’ve got—channel it into one single point.”
He paused, thinking how to explain it. “It’s hard to put into words, but if you do it right, you’ll feel something strange. Like a wave moving through your whole body. First from top to bottom, then bottom to top. And if your focus is sharp enough, there’ll be a split-second where something clicks. Like a soft ‘ding’ in your mind, and a flash of light behind your eyes.”
“That’s when you know you’ve touched it. The golden technique.”
Brian had blinked at him. “Jesus Christ… That made a lot of sense… and also zero sense at the same time.”
He sighed, then smirked. “Alright. I’ll give it a shot. I’ll try your weird eye meditation thing, Boss.”
Obsessed
After that day, the neighborhood gained a new local weirdo—someone who would squat in the same spot all day, not moving, not talking. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep while squatting, head drooping forward like a scarecrow about to tip over.
Summer burned the city alive.
On a blazing afternoon, inside a nearly empty subway train, Brian locked his focus straight ahead. He was trying to concentrate all his energy into his eyes—just like Colin had taught him.
A few minutes later, a girl sitting across from him suddenly stood up and slapped him hard across the face. She looked about nineteen, maybe twenty—dressed in a tiny crop top that barely covered her chest, with ripped jean shorts and fishnet stockings. Her cleavage was practically out in the open, and her tone was furious.
“You sick bastard! You’ve been staring at my tits this whole time—fuck you!”
Before Brian could even react, she lifted her foot and stabbed the sharp heel of her stiletto right into the inside of his thigh.
He screamed, jumped back, and bolted out of the train as soon as the doors opened at the next stop.
Autumn drifted in, slow and dreamy.
The trees turned red, and the wind scattered maple leaves through the air like floating fire. Brian climbed into a massive tree in the middle of a residential street. He perched himself on a thick branch and stared forward without blinking. He stayed up there for days and nights, not eating, not sleeping.
Eventually, a police car pulled up below. Two officers stepped out, shining flashlights into the branches.
“We got reports someone’s been spying from this tree,” one of them shouted. “Neighbors say you’ve been watching their house for days. Might be a robbery setup… or maybe peeping… or maybe just some one-sided love stalker nonsense. Either way, get down now—you’re coming with us for questioning.”
Winter came crashing down.
On one of the coldest nights of the year, snow blanketed the city. No one was out. Snow on the ground was over a foot thick. Brian had been squatting in the corner of a street all day, so still that he was now nearly buried under the snow. Only two eyes were visible, wide open and unmoving, peeking out from the white.
Around midnight, a young couple walked by and sat down on the bench right in front of him. They started chatting, their breath fogging in the air. Over the next few hours, the conversation got more intimate. They held hands. Hugged. Kissed.
Eventually, the guy slipped a hand into the girl’s coat, gently grabbing one of her breasts through her top. He didn’t rush—just kept softly squeezing, letting his fingers pinch and brush over her nipple, teasing it lightly. She didn’t push him away. In fact, she leaned in closer, eyes half-closed, breathing slower.
She climbed into his lap and straddled him. Their bodies started moving—her squatting in a steady rhythm, his hands on her waist, pulling her in, pushing deeper with each motion. The tension rose, their breathing quickened, and they lost themselves in the moment—oblivious to everything around them.
And just like that, in the middle of the freezing night, they were completely unaware that two wide, snow-covered eyes were watching from just a few feet away.
As they neared climax, the girl suddenly froze.
“Holy fuck… someone’s been watching us. This whole time.”
The guy turned his head.
Both of them went pale.
Just behind the bench, they saw him—Brian, buried under snow, unmoving, his face blank and eyes wide open. The snow had covered everything but those two haunting eyes.
They screamed. Without saying another word, they scrambled to grab whatever they could—purses, handbags, maybe a backpack—and ran off into the night. They didn’t even look back, convinced they’d just been watched by some snow-covered pervert from a horror movie.
And just like that, the years went by.
Brian graduated from college. He even got a job at the Humble Organization.
But even after all that time…
He still hadn’t unlocked the golden eyes.
Bruised and Enlightened
In the past few years, Brian had beaten up all kinds of people—good guys, bad guys, it didn’t matter. He did it all in the name of the Humble Organization.
But one day, during a routine debt collection job, he ran into someone truly formidable. The fight didn’t go well. Brian got completely wrecked. He was knocked out cold and rushed to the hospital, barely hanging on.
When Colin came to visit him, Brian lay in bed, looking ashamed. But he wasn’t ashamed about losing the fight—he was ashamed he couldn’t complete the mission.
“I’m sorry, Boss,” he said softly. “I failed the Organization. I couldn’t even get that three hundred bucks back.”
He paused.
“I’m just too weak…”
Colin stood beside him, arms crossed. Then he spoke with calm authority.
“If you fully master the Golden Eyes, your power will increase by N times.”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“And that N is greater than or equal to 2.”
Brian stared at him.
He was amazed.
Not only did it sound profound—it sounded scientific. That level of philosophical precision… that beautifully empty number… it was random, but it made sense. Somehow.
Brian nodded deeply. He looked like he’d just understood the secret of life.
“Boss… I get it now. I’ve learned so much from you. I hope I can keep learning from you forever.”
Colin gave a slight nod and gently patted Brian on the shoulder.
Unfortunately, that was the exact shoulder that had been broken during the fight.
Brian’s face twisted in pain. It felt like someone stabbed him with a red-hot spear. But he didn’t say a word. He just smiled and clenched his teeth—he couldn’t let his Boss know. Couldn’t let him realize he’d just accidentally made things worse.
Brian respected Colin too much. He would rather suffer in silence than let the man feel guilty.
Colin, completely unaware, continued, “You don’t always have to push yourself too hard. Sometimes, it’s okay to relax.”
He paused again, thoughtfully.
“This weekend, you should take a walk by the beach. It’s summer. There’ll be lots of girls. A lot of beautiful ones. You should go take a look.”
Brian’s eyes lit up.
He nodded quickly, inspired. The Boss was right—again. Every sentence he spoke sounded like a quote from an ancient book of wisdom.
Brian grabbed his phone the second Colin left the room. He started searching: “Which beaches have the hottest girls this weekend.”
His soul had already flown to the coastline.
He couldn’t wait for the weekend to arrive.
A Breeze, A Click
The weekend arrived quickly, and Brian’s injuries had mostly healed. More or less.
He hopped on his beloved motorcycle and blasted down the highway, heading straight toward the beach. The hot wind whipped past him as the coastline came into view. The air was warm, salty, and sweet. The beach was packed—an ocean of people. And with them, came waves of bikini-clad girls running, jumping, laughing under the sun.
Of course, where there were beautiful girls, there were also greasy middle-aged men squatting not too far away, pretending to check their phones or read magazines, all while sneakily watching. Some of them were clearly just quietly waiting for something to slip off… to expose their goodies… or whatever.
Brian found a nice spot and set up a beach chair. He slid into it, leaned back, and let his sunglasses drop into place. The sun warmed his skin. The ocean breeze cooled it down again. He wasn’t even trying to think too deeply. Life was good. Sand, sun, wind—and girls everywhere.
Hours passed in a blur. The sun had started its descent, dipping lower into the horizon. The beach, still crowded, now had a different feel. The golden light softened. The wind picked up slightly. The vibe turned from chaotic and playful… to peaceful and romantic.
Brian casually glanced forward.
That’s when he saw her.
A tall, long-legged beauty in a soft pink bikini. She stood against the golden sunset, the ocean wind playing with her hair, tossing it lightly across her shoulders. She wasn’t dancing, or doing anything special—just standing there, looking out to sea. She looked elegant. Confident. All woman.
She was exactly his type.
Then, it happened.
A sudden blast of wind howled through the beach. Sand kicked up into the air, umbrellas ripped loose and went flying, towels twisted into the sky like flapping flags. One guy’s toupee spun through the air in slow motion like a seagull with no wings.
The girl raised her arms to shield her eyes from the sandstorm. Her hair whipped wildly around her face. Then, without warning, the knot behind her bikini top came loose. The entire top tore free and flew up into the sky like a pink flag of surrender.
Brian stared.
Right in front of him was a living statue—like the Venus de Milo, but real. Natural. Moving.
Her breast, full and perky, caught the fading sunlight like a marble sculpture. Her areola was a soft pink, about the size of a quarter—just right. Not too big. Not too small. Not exaggerated. Just perfect.
And in that instant, Brian saw everything.
He saw the double-helix of DNA spiraling endlessly in time. He saw a fish blowing bubbles deep in the sea. He saw the moment a primitive creature crawled out of the ocean and touched land for the first time. He saw a baby crying, and the warmth of a mother’s embrace. He saw life.
He saw the source of life itself.
A current ran through his body—from head to toe. He tingled all over.
Then the current reversed—from toe to head. Something clicked inside him. His spine straightened. His brain lit up.
That sensation—was this it?
Was this the “click” that Colin had told him about?
The moment of connection. Of awakening.
The Spark of Soda
The scene cut back to Brian’s office.
He stood at the sink, splashing cold water on his face. After a few moments, he looked up at his reflection in the mirror and let out a long, heavy sigh.
Turns out, that feeling he had at the beach—that rush, that spark, that cosmic “click”… it wasn’t the Golden Eyes.
It was just a hard-on.
Just a dumb biological reaction. A blood flow thing.
Nothing more.
He walked over to the mini-fridge, grabbed a bottle of Coca-Cola, and leaned back against the counter. He cracked it open and took a sip. His thoughts were all over the place. A little disappointed. A little embarrassed. But mostly… scared.
Scared that he wasn’t the chosen one.
Scared he wasn’t meant to unlock the Golden Technique.
Scared that maybe he just wasn’t built for greatness.
At that moment, Colin walked into the office kitchen.
Without a word, he opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of Pepsi, and stood next to Brian—also leaning against the counter, bottle in hand, like nothing mattered.
Colin spoke casually, like he was just thinking out loud.
“You know something?” he said. “Scientific research shows a bottle of Pepsi has 48 grams of sugar. Coca-Cola only has 46.”
He turned the bottle in his hand.
“That’s just a 2-gram difference. But Pepsi always tastes way sweeter, right? Way more satisfying. You feel that?”
Brian furrowed his brow.
He honestly didn’t care about this kind of sugary science talk.
Then Colin handed him the bottle of Pepsi.
“Stop drinking Coke,” he said. “From now on, just drink Pepsi.”
He took a sip of his own bottle.
“More sugar makes your brain more excited. Fires up your nerves. Anytime I hit a wall mentally, I take a sip of Pepsi and boom—clarity.”
He nodded toward Brian. “Try it.”
Brian didn’t argue. He grabbed the Pepsi, and without thinking, tossed the Coca-Cola into the trash.
He raised the Pepsi like it was a beer and started chugging. Full-on tilt, like a man downing liquor. In just a few seconds, he drank the whole thing—every last drop.
Then came the burp.
BURP!
“Wooooo!!” he shouted. “That’s the good stuff!”
Suddenly, he felt something shift inside his body.
A rush of dopamine hit him like a truck. Happiness surged through his brain. The so-called “happy fat-guy soda” was not a myth—it was absolutely real.
His whole body lit up with excitement. Energy surged through him like lightning. And then it happened.
That feeling.
The same sensation Colin once described—a wave rushing from top to bottom, then bottom to top. A burst of electricity shot through his nervous system, and his brain suddenly felt crystal clear.
And in that moment, his eyes changed.
They glowed faintly.
A soft golden shimmer.
He could see everything.
The Value of N
Not long after that, the same formidable opponent who had once beaten Brian now owed the Humble Organization another hundred dollars. And once again, Brian was sent to collect.
The two old rivals finally crossed paths again.
But this time, Brian stood tall, eyes steady, not even looking the guy in the face. He was filled with confidence. The Golden Eyes had fully awakened.
They clashed immediately.
Brian could see every move coming—every step, every strike—before it even happened. Although his opponent still had the edge in raw power and speed, Brian’s vision and timing completely controlled the pace of the fight. Every hit he landed punished his opponent harder than the last.
Before twenty exchanges passed, Brian slipped behind his enemy and raised his hand.
With a clean, sharp chop, he struck the back of the man’s neck.
CRACK.
The spine broke. The man collapsed hard on the ground.
Brian stood still, stunned. That hit was much stronger than he’d intended. More precise. More devastating. He had underestimated how much power he now held.
The man twitched on the ground, gasping. With the last ounce of breath, he tried to spit out some final words:
“Son of a—”
But he never finished the sentence. He died right there.
Killed over a hundred-dollar debt.
Brian looked down, a little embarrassed. “Oops,” he muttered, then reached into the man’s pocket and pulled out the hundred bucks. Mission complete.
On his way back, he remembered something Colin once told him:
“Once you master the Golden Eyes, your power will increase by N times. And that N is always greater than or equal to 2.”
Brian took a moment to assess himself. He felt like he was about 2.5 times stronger than before. So… N = 2.5.
Of course, Colin had only said that line casually—just some random words thrown into the air without much thought. He’d already forgotten he even said it. But Brian took it seriously. The fact that his actual power matched that number made him admire Colin even more. His boss wasn’t just smart—he was a prophet.
That night, in the Humble Organization’s office, Colin, Michael, and Brian sat around a round table deciding what to eat.
Michael said, “How about some pizza?”
Colin nodded. “Sure.”
Brian asked, “How many slices should I get?”
Colin replied casually, “Just get N slices. Should be enough for the three of us.”
Brian nodded and went downstairs to buy it.
He came back a little later with a pizza box in hand.
Michael opened the box, blinked, then frowned.
“What the hell…” he said, staring at it.
Inside were just 2.5 slices of pizza.
Colin raised an eyebrow and leaned over.
“You’re being weird again, Brian. What the hell is this?”
Brian scratched his head, confused. “You said N slices. I calculated N equals 2.5.”
Colin looked completely baffled. “Come on, man. Stop being so weird. I just said a number. I wasn’t being literal.”
The room fell into awkward silence.
Michael slowly adjusted his golden-rimmed Glasses, then stood up with a small smile. “I guess this is what it’s like when geniuses try to do normal things. Their logic just ain’t the same as ours.”
He headed for the door.
“You guys split the 2.5 slices. I’ll go grab some McDonald’s and be back soon. We’ll eat together after that.”
Then he walked out the office, leaving the geniuses to their math and their mystery pizza.