Chef Porco, once a celebrated culinary prodigy, sharpens his knives with slow, deliberate strokes. Betrayal simmers in his eyes. The wolves had ruined everything—his restaurant, his family, his pride. Tonight, revenge would be plated.
"A true chef never wastes an ingredient. Nor a grudge," he murmurs, glancing at the photo, his reflection splitting across the glass.
Chef Porco slips through a service entrance, his apron folded like a shroud. He moves with practiced silence, dodging motion sensors and ducking behind cold storage units as a guard dog sniffs nearby. The tension is thick—every creak could spell disaster.
In the heart of the kitchen, Lupo Minore, the youngest wolf, stirs awake. Chef Porco is already behind him, pressing a cleaver to the marble countertop.
"Did you ever taste fear, Lupo? It’s best seared hot—like a first betrayal,"
"Porco? Wait—let’s talk, I—"
"The time for talk is past. Tonight, you’re the main course,"
The scene cuts to a sizzling skillet, flames licking high as Chef Porco sears the wolf with clinical precision, the camera lingering on the glistening meat. The power has shifted; the chef now rules the kitchen.
Within the labyrinthine ducts, Chef Porco holds his breath, every muscle taut. He drops silently behind Lupo Mezzo, middle wolf, who is mid-toast, a rare steak speared on his fork.
"Who’s there? Show yourself!"
"You always preferred your meat tender, didn’t you? Braised until it falls apart," whispers Chef Porco, brandishing a marinating syringe.
"Porco, please. This isn’t you. You’re not a killer—"
"I wasn’t. But you taught me hunger,"
Steam rises as
