Post by Deleted on Jun 16, 2016 7:45:12 GMT -5
There was a loud clattering of shit getting knocked over. Beckett was searching for food in an old resturante. He used his arms to rake the unwated shit off the counter; eyes unblinking and staring at their goal. The pantry. Becket hoisted his saxophone case up on the counter and left it there as he jumped over the counter himself and checked to see if there was anything behind the doors that he could uses to satiate his hunger. A long time ago, Beckett wouldn't have been allowed to step foot in this place, instead having to wait for the food to come to him being tossed out into a dumpster. But now his slack jaw and unrelenting eyes burning a hole in the pantry door, there must be something in there. Beckett was feeling the hunger grow deep inside his gut. He hadn't eaten in days. He had struck out at the last few places he'd checked. And it's not like he could just find people and wait for them to throw out their unwanted food anymore and pick threw the leftovers like a vulture, people didn't out throw out dick these days!
Beckett: "Gotta be something! It's gotta be!"
Beckett's boney fingers wrapped around the doors to the pantry to reveal cobwebs and dust. Nothing, the only thing left was a can of tomatoe sauce. Feeling defeated Beckett grabbed the can anyways figuring it was at least something, something to give his tastebuds other than the constant taste of dehydration and foul breathe. Beckett slammed the doors shut and hopped back over the counter he grabbed his saxophone case and began walking out the door when he noticed there wrere quiet a few of the dead outside. He put his back against the wall out of sight weighing his options. He could wait for them to wander off, then find some place safe to lay down for a few hours before getting a movie on.
Mr. Dark: "Or you could take out your anger and sleep will come more easily to you after a cathartic release Beckett.... Why should those drooling freaks always have a nice meal availible to them when they wander across some poor hopeless fucker while we're struggling just to find cans of tomatoe sauce. Go out there and put an end to their meger exsistance."
Beckett thought about it a moment before he realized that Mr. Dark was right. He looked at Mr. Dark who was smiling, he was wearing a nice black suit over a white button up shirt, his hair was perfectly placed every hair combed back in perfection. Beckett wondered why Mr. Dark had taken such an interest in him, but to be honest Mr. Dark had helped him stay alive in more situations than Beckett could even remember. Beckett nodded as he set down his sax and pulled the knife from his holster on his belt. He kicked open the door and rushed out into the street, his eyes a frantic rage. Beckett hadn't noticed just how many dead heads were out there but not caring that he was outnumbered 7 to one. He grabbed the fist one and buried his blade deep in it's forehead. The squirt of browish red blood almost made his stomach turn from the smell of it alone. The rest had noticed him now. Beckett kicked on in the back of the leg before it could fully turn making it drop to his knees and grabbed it by the neck repeatly slamming it's head into a parked taxi until it was nothing more than an decayed flesh and ooze running down his wrist. Five left. Beckett stabbed two more at they came for him. Each plunge of his blade that had killed so many; living and dead, only made his bloodlust more palpable.
Beckett: "You want your dinner? You have to earn it!"
The last few biters in the street had been no problem. Beckett was breathing hard as streaks of brownish red blood dripped from his shoulders and arms, covering most of his white tank top. He had bits of brain in his hair that clung just above his eyebrows, his mad eyes staring at the carnage with a smile on his face. A hand from behind him placed his hand on his shoulder. Beckett did not look up. It was Mr. Dark, and he was outside now with Beckett. Beckett only stared at the corpses he just dispatched. Unblinking; still breathing heavy.
Mr. Dark: "Now wasn't that a cleansing experience? How many times have i told you Beckett do not bottle your rage. The healthy thing to do is to vent your frustrations. Now come on we have more stores to check."
Not saying a word and still not wanting to tear his eyes away from the beautiful carnage Beckett reluctantly followed Mr. Dark he grabbed his saxophone and left to find more food.
Beckett: "Gotta be something! It's gotta be!"
Beckett's boney fingers wrapped around the doors to the pantry to reveal cobwebs and dust. Nothing, the only thing left was a can of tomatoe sauce. Feeling defeated Beckett grabbed the can anyways figuring it was at least something, something to give his tastebuds other than the constant taste of dehydration and foul breathe. Beckett slammed the doors shut and hopped back over the counter he grabbed his saxophone case and began walking out the door when he noticed there wrere quiet a few of the dead outside. He put his back against the wall out of sight weighing his options. He could wait for them to wander off, then find some place safe to lay down for a few hours before getting a movie on.
Mr. Dark: "Or you could take out your anger and sleep will come more easily to you after a cathartic release Beckett.... Why should those drooling freaks always have a nice meal availible to them when they wander across some poor hopeless fucker while we're struggling just to find cans of tomatoe sauce. Go out there and put an end to their meger exsistance."
Beckett thought about it a moment before he realized that Mr. Dark was right. He looked at Mr. Dark who was smiling, he was wearing a nice black suit over a white button up shirt, his hair was perfectly placed every hair combed back in perfection. Beckett wondered why Mr. Dark had taken such an interest in him, but to be honest Mr. Dark had helped him stay alive in more situations than Beckett could even remember. Beckett nodded as he set down his sax and pulled the knife from his holster on his belt. He kicked open the door and rushed out into the street, his eyes a frantic rage. Beckett hadn't noticed just how many dead heads were out there but not caring that he was outnumbered 7 to one. He grabbed the fist one and buried his blade deep in it's forehead. The squirt of browish red blood almost made his stomach turn from the smell of it alone. The rest had noticed him now. Beckett kicked on in the back of the leg before it could fully turn making it drop to his knees and grabbed it by the neck repeatly slamming it's head into a parked taxi until it was nothing more than an decayed flesh and ooze running down his wrist. Five left. Beckett stabbed two more at they came for him. Each plunge of his blade that had killed so many; living and dead, only made his bloodlust more palpable.
Beckett: "You want your dinner? You have to earn it!"
The last few biters in the street had been no problem. Beckett was breathing hard as streaks of brownish red blood dripped from his shoulders and arms, covering most of his white tank top. He had bits of brain in his hair that clung just above his eyebrows, his mad eyes staring at the carnage with a smile on his face. A hand from behind him placed his hand on his shoulder. Beckett did not look up. It was Mr. Dark, and he was outside now with Beckett. Beckett only stared at the corpses he just dispatched. Unblinking; still breathing heavy.
Mr. Dark: "Now wasn't that a cleansing experience? How many times have i told you Beckett do not bottle your rage. The healthy thing to do is to vent your frustrations. Now come on we have more stores to check."
Not saying a word and still not wanting to tear his eyes away from the beautiful carnage Beckett reluctantly followed Mr. Dark he grabbed his saxophone and left to find more food.