A/N: I own nothing and I'm sorry for any and all grammar/spelling mistakes you will find. And like I said in the summary, I think this is outsider POV, but I'm not really sure. If it is, then YAY, if it isn't then sorry. And it's just an idea I wanted to play with for a bit. Nothing too exciting. LOL

WARNING: maybe gross.

He watched with ... curiosity as a bowlegged, leather jacket wearing man approached him. The guy moved slowly, as in not wanting to scare, but hell, he's been around fear and terror all his life, there's nothing that could scare him. Especially not something that would come from some snot nosed pretty boy.

"Hello, sir."

The guy crouched before him; all honest face and calm eyes, too much gel spiking his hair and too much niceness in those two words.

There was no room for 'nice' in this world, no room for honesty and someone should teach the kid that, although the worry lines on the guy's face ... maybe the kid already knew.

"Did you, uh, by any chance," the kid turned his head around and glanced at the other man - tall as a sequoia tree - who was making a sour face, standing there in the middle of the alley, "see someone run into this alley?"

He leaned forward, squinted and looked straight into the kid's eyes; bright green they were, more green then anything he'd ever seen something be.

He could feel the kid's gaze burning him as he was thinking the question over.

"Hmmm, no, I can't say that I have, son."

And he wasn't lying either. He really hadn't seen anyone run in here.

"Okay, sir. Stay warm tonight. Here," ten bucks were thrown on his lap, "get something to eat."

He looked down at the crumpled piece of paper and heard the kid say: "'kay Sam, nothing, lets go down that way."


He hunched down, covered his shivering, old and wrinkled body with the carton box that had seen better days, and listened to their footsteps go further away down the alley. He squeezed the ten bucks with his dirty fingers and snorted.

Money? Really?

Money meant nothing to him. Never has. He was a scavenger, a garbage man if you will, he was there in every war to pick up the lost pieces of bodies left in the battle fields. He was there to clean the fields of arms, legs, heads, noses, fingers, toes, scalps, hands. And they would never catch him. He's been alive for centuries and he'd be around for centuries more. That would never change.

He smiled softly and listened to their footsteps echo deeper into the night.


He turned to his left, opened the box a little further and picked up an arm, licking his chapped lips; rotten arms were the best meat someone could eat.

He took a bite, closing his eyes in delicious ecstasy that only the moldy taste of flesh could bring.

His teeth hit bone and he nearly chipped a tooth, but bones were the second best part of someone. So crunchy.

He bit into the flesh again, losing himself in the taste; moaning and slurping and barely keeping his eyes from rolling to the back of his head from the pure deliciousness of his dinner.

It was better than those gangrene arms and legs he sometimes got thrown his way in the trenches; they were diseased and sour tasting, while this ... ageing a fresh kill, waiting for it to be just ripe enough, was like tasting fine wine.

He smacked his lips together and growled while sinking his yellow teeth into gray-green flesh.


The first thing he felt, when he was coming down from the high of digesting old, rotten flesh was something hard and long and hot stabbing itself into his back and through his chest.

The second thing he noticed was a shiny machete in the bowlegged man's arms and a smirk playing on the kid's lips.

"Thought you could fool us, you son of a bitch ... could smell your rot from miles away."

Maybe… maybe the kid wasn't as snot nosed as he looked.

His head rolled away a bit further from his body and stopped against a brick wall.

"'n gimme back my ten bucks."

"They're my ten bucks."

"We'll share."

Death wasn't swift, took a few seconds and his hearing abandoned him listening to the bickering of the two men, his sight went away seeing the tall guy opening a plastic bag.


When he opened his eyes, he saw a dark forest. Tall trees and dark shadows with glowing red eyes. Everywhere.

Little did he know that he would see the snot nosed pretty boy with too much hair gel again.

In six years.

The End.