The Depth of an Corpse. Chapt 1: Scraps.

A family in which two of the members are cannibals- one is half lobotomized, what next?

The alley stank of piss and rotting Chinese takeout, thick enough to coat Rin's tongue. He leaned against graffiti-slashed brick, hood pulled low, black veins crawling up his neck like cracks in old porcelain. His fingers- too long, too pale, tapped a silent rhythm against his thigh. Across the street, fluorescent lights buzzed above the bodega's bulletproof glass, casting sickly yellow squares on wet pavement.

Akira emerged from the gloom, Pantera shirt hanging off one bony shoulder. "Oi, corpse-boy..” he rasped, accent a messy collision of Midwest drawl and Aussie sharpness. He shoved cold fries into Rin's hand. "Stole 'em off some Year Nine twat." Rin stared at the greasy paper. His lip piercings glinted as he slowly crushed a fry between molars. Human flesh tasted richer. Saltier.

Across the street, a flickering neon sign spat crimson light onto puddles. Akira tracked the distorted reflection of a lone woman staggering toward the bodega. "Seen that butcher's van again.." he murmured, knuckles whitening around his own fries. "Circling like fuckin' sharks." Rin's dark eyes didn't blink. Black veins pulsed faintly beneath his jawline. The woman vanished inside the store.

The fries tasted like wet cardboard. Rin dropped the crumpled paper. It landed silently in a slick of oil. He pushed off the wall, spine hoodie rasping against brick. One heavy boot caught the edge of a broken bottle. Glass crunched. Rin stumbled forward a step, lurching like a puppet with snapped strings. His long black hair swung forward, obscuring his face for a heartbeat. Akira snorted. "Graceful as ever, mate."

The bodega door chimed. The woman stumbled back out, clutching a brown paper bag. Rain started falling- thin, cold needles that made the neon bleed across the wet concrete. Rin tilted his head. His dark eyes tracked her movement down the sidewalk. Slow. Unsteady. Alone. Akira followed his gaze, chewing slowly. "Looks proper pissed.." he muttered. "Easy pickings for that van."

Rin didn't nod. Didn't blink. But his fingers curled slowly into fists at his sides, knuckles pressing white against the black veins spiderwebbing his skin. The rain plastered his long front hairs against his cheekbones. He took one heavy step off the curb, asphalt slick beneath his worn boots. Akira shoved the last fry into his mouth and fell into step beside him, shadows swallowing them both as they crossed the street.

The woman wobbled past flickering streetlights, humming tunelessly. Her paper bag dripped rainwater onto her shoes. Behind them, tires whispered on wet pavement- slow, predatory. Rin's nostrils flared. He smelled cheap perfume, stale beer, and beneath it, the iron tang of anticipation. "Secluded?" Akira muttered, sharp gaze flicking to Rin. "Yeah?" Rin's tongue slid over his snakebite piercings. A low, wet click sounded in his throat. Not quite a word. Not quite human.

They drifted closer, shadows bleeding into hers. The van crawled parallel, its engine a low purr beneath the rain's hiss. Akira's fingers brushed Rin's wrist, cold skin meeting colder. "Easy." he breathed. The woman hiccuped, oblivious. Rin's head tilted, a predator gauging wind. His dark eyes reflected the van's tinted window sliding silently down.

Inside, a man leaned out. Smiled. Too wide, too many teeth. "Need a lift, love?" The scent hit Rin first- bleach, sweat, something sweetly rotten beneath. The woman giggled, swaying. "Nah, jus' round the corner..." Her words slurred. Rin's hand shot out, not fast, but inevitable. Bone-thin fingers clamped her shoulder. She froze, confusion dawning.

Akira was already moving. Fluid, silent. He slammed the van door shut with a hollow thud, trapping the driver's startled curse inside. "Wrong neighborhood, cunt." he hissed, knuckles white on the handle. The van lurched forward, tires screeching on wet asphalt, but Akira held firm, boots skidding briefly.

Rin didn't watch the struggle. His grip tightened on the woman's shoulder, pulling her back into the deeper gloom between overflowing dumpsters. Her confused giggle died as she saw his face fully- the black veins stark against death-pale skin, the hollow eyes devoid of anything warm. She whimpered, trying to twist away. Rin leaned down. His lips brushed her ear, snakebite piercings cold against her skin. A low, wet gurgle escaped him, more vibration than sound. It wasn't a threat. It was hunger.

The van roared, engine screaming as it fishtailed, trying to tear free from Akira's grip on the door handle. Metal shrieked. Akira snarled, planting his feet wide on the slick asphalt, Pantera shirt plastered to his bony frame by the rain. "Fuck off!" he roared, voice raw, throwing his whole weight against the shuddering vehicle. Inside, the driver's panicked face pressed against the glass, eyes wide with sudden terror.

Rin ignored the chaos. His focus narrowed to the trembling woman pinned against his chest, her cheap perfume smothered by the alley's rot. Her whimpers hitched as his fingers slid from her shoulder to her throat. Cold. Deliberate. He inhaled deeply; stale beer, sweat, and beneath it, the coppery promise beneath thin skin. His tongue traced a snakebite piercing. A low, wet rattle built in his ruined throat.

The van tore free with a metallic scream, fishtailing wildly before accelerating down the street. Akira stumbled back, panting, knuckles bleeding. He spat onto the wet asphalt. "Fuckin' coward." His gaze snapped to Rin. "Oi! Leave some for me, yeah?" He wiped blood on his jeans, eyes gleaming in the neon bleed. "Been ages since proper takeaway."

Rin didn't hear him. The woman’s frantic pulse hammered against his palm like a trapped bird. He felt the fragile architecture of her neck beneath his fingers- vertebrae, tendons, the frantic flutter of her carotid. His dark eyes, utterly devoid of light, stared past her terror, focused only on the primal map beneath skin. Her choked sob was cut short. A sharp, clean crack echoed off the alley walls, louder than the receding engine or the rain. Her body went instantly slack, a puppet with severed strings. Rin caught her weight effortlessly, lowering her crumpling form onto the wet concrete beside overflowing bins. Her head lolled at an impossible angle, eyes wide and vacant, reflecting the flickering neon sign.

Akira was already crouching beside him, fingers digging into the woman’s jacket pocket. He pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a cheap lighter, tossing them aside before rifling through her bag. "Jackpot..” he muttered, pulling out a greasy wad of cash. He shoved it into his own jeans pocket without counting. His gaze flicked hungrily to the still-warm body. "Leg or thigh? Been craving something meaty." Rain plastered his red hair flat against his forehead as he traced a finger along the curve of her calf.

Rin didn’t answer. His hands moved with detached precision, peeling back the collar of her damp blouse. His lips parted slightly, snakebite piercings glinting. A low, wet sound vibrated in his throat- not a growl, but the hum of anticipation. He leaned down, teeth grazing the junction of neck and shoulder. The scent of iron bloomed thick and metallic in the rain-soaked air.

Akira watched, pupils dilated. He licked rainwater from his pierced lip. "Save the ribs for me, yeah? Crispy bits." He pulled a folding knife from his pocket, flicking it open with practiced ease. The blade gleamed dully under the neon bleed. His stomach growled louder than the distant traffic.

Rin's teeth sank deep. Tendon snapped. Hot copper flooded his mouth, thick and vital. He tore flesh free with a wet, ripping sound, black-veined hands working mechanically. Blood dripped down his chin, mingling with rain, staining the spine design on his hoodie darker. He offered the ragged chunk to Akira without looking up.

Akira snatched it, folding knife forgotten. He crammed the meat into his mouth, chewing fiercely, juices running down his chin. "Mmm- fuckin' ambrosia.." he groaned around the mouthful, eyes rolling back. His Pantera shirt clung to sharp ribs as he shuddered. Rain slicked his red hair into crimson streaks.

Rin fed silently, tearing strips with methodical bites. The alley filled with wet, tearing sounds and low, satisfied grunts. Black veins pulsed beneath his skin as warmth spread through his hollow chest. He didn't taste the rain or the rot anymore- only ‘iron-rich’ salt, the dense texture of muscle, the slick slide of fat. His dark eyes remained fixed on the task, lifeless yet intensely focused.

Akira wiped blood from his chin with the back of his hand, smearing crimson across his cheek. "Should've taken the van.." he muttered, ripping into a thigh muscle. "Could've stored leftovers." He glanced at Rin, who was methodically cracking ribs open with bare hands. "Oi. Hear that?" Distant sirens wailed, slicing through the rain's rhythm. "Fuzz'll be crawling soon."

Rin paused mid-bite. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted a black-veined hand slick with gore. He pointed down the alley's throat- past overflowing dumpsters and crumbling brick, toward a deeper shadow where asphalt buckled into potholes. Parked crookedly against a graffiti-tagged wall sat the butcher van, its engine dark, windshield reflecting the alley's neon decay like a dead eye.

Akira froze, a string of gristle hanging from his teeth. "You... stole it?" His laugh punched out- sharp, disbelieving. He scrambled up, wiping bloody hands on ruined jeans. "When? How?" Rin didn't answer. He simply lowered his finger and returned to the wet ruin at his feet, tearing another strip with unnerving calm. The sirens grew louder, weaving through distant streets.

They dragged the remains toward the van. Rain plastered Akira’s hair flat as he heaved a leg into the back. The interior reeked of bleach and old meat. "Fuckin' genius.." he breathed, slamming the doors shut. Rin slid into the driver's seat, his long fingers curling around the steering wheel, knuckles stark against peeling vinyl. The engine coughed to life.

Akira shoved him aside. "Nah, mate. You're swayin'." Rin didn't resist. He slumped into the passenger seat, head lolling against the window. His dark eyes stared unfocused at the rain-streaked glass as the van lurched forward. Akira drove with reckless abandon, weaving through narrow backstreets. Rin’s breathing grew shallow, then stopped entirely. For ten minutes, he was a corpse propped upright, only the faint pulse in his black-veined neck betraying any life.

Then, like a switch flipped, Rin gasped. Air rattled wetly into his lungs. His fingers twitched against his thigh, smearing dried blood onto the worn denim. He blinked slowly, the neon signs outside painting streaks of red and green across his hollow face. "Where?" The word was thick, guttural.

"Scrapyard." Akira grunted, swerving hard to avoid a pothole. The van groaned in protest. "Gotta ditch the van and the... leftovers." He tapped the steering wheel, knuckles scraped raw from the earlier struggle. "Got a spot. Deep end. Crusher'll make it all compact." He shot Rin a sideways glance. "You back with us, corpse-boy? Or you gonna nap again?"

Rin’s head tilted slowly. His dark eyes tracked the rain tracing paths down the windshield. The world outside blurred into streaks of grimy neon and wet brick. He opened his mouth. A low, wet rasp escaped, like stones grinding together. Nothing shaped into words. His fingers twitched again, tracing the pattern of black veins on his own wrist. The scent of blood and rain filled the cramped cab, thick and metallic.

Akira drummed restless fingers on the steering wheel. "Scrapyard’s crawling with strays at night..” he muttered, swerving hard down an unlit alley. The van’s tires splashed through oily puddles. "Gotta be quick. In and out." He glanced at Rin. "You hearin’ me? Quick." Rin blinked. A slow, deliberate motion. His lips parted slightly around the snakebite piercings. A soft exhale. Not agreement. Not refusal. Just breath.

The scrapyard loomed ahead, a jagged silhouette against the bruised city sky. Chain-link fencing sagged under the weight of rust and neglect. Akira killed the headlights, plunging them into near-darkness. Only the van’s dying engine ticked in the sudden quiet. Rin’s head tilted, his dark eyes scanning the shadows beyond the fence. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His stillness was unnerving, a statue carved from bone and ink.

Akira shoved open his door, the creak echoing like a scream in the damp air. "Move it," he hissed, rain plastering his red hair to his skull. He circled to the back, fingers fumbling with the van’s latch. The stench hit him first- copper, rot, and the sweet decay of the alley. Rin unfolded himself from the passenger seat, movements stiff, deliberate. His boots crunched on broken glass as he joined Akira. Together, they hauled the wrapped remains out. The bundle sagged, heavy and wet, dripping onto the mud.

The chain-link rattled violently as Akira kicked a weak section loose. "This way.” he grunted, dragging the bundle through the gap. Rust scraped his arms. Inside the scrapyard, mountains of twisted metal loomed like decaying beasts. Rain hissed on hot engine blocks. Rin followed, silent, his dark eyes scanning the shadows. A stray cat yowled nearby, a high, panicked sound. Akira froze, knife already in hand. "Fuckin' vermin.." he breathed, knuckles white on the blade.

The cat emerged from behind a gutted refrigerator. It was skin and bones, one ear torn. It didn't hiss. Didn't flee. It just sat, mangy tail twitching, and stared at Rin. Not with animal fear, but with a strange, unnerving stillness. Its yellow eyes held the same hollow, uncomprehending look humans gave Rin- that vacant, almost clinical curiosity reserved for something profoundly broken. Rin stared back, head tilted. His black-veined fingers twitched. The cat didn't blink.

Akira dropped the bundle with a wet thud near the base of a crushed car tower. "Quit eye-fucking the ratbag." he snapped, wiping rain and grime from his face. He kicked the bundle towards the shadow of the massive hydraulic crusher. "Gotta wedge it in." He glanced at the cat, then Rin. "Fuckin' weirdo. Both of ya." The cat’s gaze didn’t waver from Rin’s lifeless eyes.

Rin moved. Not toward the body. He took one heavy step toward the cat, then crouched. Rain dripped from the tips of his long black hair onto the mud. He extended a black-veined hand, palm up. The cat didn’t flinch. It sniffed the air thick with rust and decay, then padded forward, pressing its bony head against Rin’s cold fingers. A low, almost imperceptible rumble vibrated in its chest. Rin’s fingers closed around its scruff, lifting it effortlessly. The cat went limp, tucked against the bloodstained spine hoodie, yellow eyes reflecting the distant city glow.

Akira stared, mouth slightly open. "You fuckin' serious?" He gestured at the bundle leaking dark fluid onto the mud. "We got a body to crush and you're adopting strays?" Rin ignored him, cradling the cat as he turned and walked stiffly back toward the van. The cat nestled deeper into the crook of his arm, purring a broken rhythm against the silence. Akira cursed, scrambling to shove the remains into the crusher’s gaping maw before jamming a bent gearshift lever against the control panel. The machine groaned to life with a hydraulic hiss, metal screaming as it began its slow, inevitable descent. He didn’t wait to watch.

Inside the van, the cat kneaded Rin’s bloodstained hoodie with needle claws, leaving tiny punctures in the fabric. Rin sat motionless in the passenger seat, his dark eyes fixed on the animal’s ragged fur. One black-veined finger traced the curve of its torn ear, a gesture almost tender. The cat licked at the dried blood caking his knuckles, its sandpaper tongue rasping against his skin. Outside, the crusher’s final, bone-jarring crunch echoed through the scrapyard.

Akira slammed the driver’s door, rain dripping from his nose ring. "Hope it eats rats.." he muttered, jamming the key into the ignition. "Cause we ain’t sharin’ the good stuff." The engine sputtered to life. Rin’s gaze never left the cat as it curled into a tight, shivering ball against his ribs. A low, wet sigh escaped him- something between a wheeze and a purr as the van lurched forward into the downpour.

They drove deeper into the ghetto’s heart, past boarded-up storefronts and flickering streetlights. The cat’s purr vibrated against Rin’s hoodie, a fragile counterpoint to the van’s rattling chassis. Akira drummed his fingers on the wheel, knuckles still raw. "Ma’s probably pissed.." he said, swerving around a pothole. "Left her with the brat again." Rin’s head tilted slightly. His fingers, crusted with dried blood, absently traced the cat’s spine. The animal didn’t flinch.

The apartment block loomed like a rotten tooth- concrete stained with decades of grime, windows patched with cardboard. Akira parked crookedly beside a burnt-out sedan. "Leave the van," he muttered, kicking his door open. Rain sheeted down, turning the stairwell entrance into a dark maw. Rin followed, the cat tucked against his chest like stolen warmth. They climbed five flights, the air thickening with mildew and stale cooking oil. Behind one door, a baby wailed; behind another, violent coughing echoed.

Akira shouldered open apartment 5C. The smell hit first, boiled cabbage and damp plaster. A small figure hurtled from the kitchenette. "Akiiii!" squealed a girl of maybe six, launching herself at Akira’s legs. Her tangled blonde hair caught on his chain belt. "You’re late! Ma’s cryin’ again!" Behind her, a gaunt woman slumped at a plastic table, cigarette smoke wreathing her hollow face. Her eyes- the same sharp green as Akira’s flicked to Rin. "Took you long enough, corpse-boy." she rasped, accent thick with Midwestern weariness. "Been out scavengin’?" Her gaze dropped to the cat. "The fuck’s that?"

Rin shuffled past the threshold, water pooling around his boots. The cat peered from the crook of his arm, ears flat. Akira peeled the girl off him. "Found it-" he grunted, tossing a wad of damp bills onto the table. "Scrapyard stray. Rin’s." The woman- (Mags) snatched the cash, counting swiftly. Her knuckles were raw from cleaning chemicals. "Huh. Decent haul." She eyed Rin as he lowered himself stiffly onto a broken sofa. The cat immediately burrowed into his hoodie’s bloodstained folds. "Still got that dead-eye stare, eh?" Mags murmured, not unkindly. She’d been the one to find him all those years ago, a small, silent thing curled beside a dumpster, black veins stark against feverish skin. No memory. No words. Just hunger.

The girl- (Lila) crept closer, fascinated. "He’s all scratchy..-" she whispered, reaching toward the cat. Rin’s hand shot out, cold fingers wrapping her wrist. Not hard. Just still. Lila froze. "He bites?" she breathed. Rin’s dark eyes met hers. Slowly, deliberately, he shook his head once. Akira snorted, pulling a beer from the fridge. "Nah. Just protective. Like with you, runt." He ruffled her hair. Rin released her, his gaze drifting back to the cat purring against his ribs. Mags watched him, a flicker of something old and tired in her eyes. She’d brought the half-lobotomized boy home that rain-slicked night, stitching his torn clothes, spooning thin broth between his unresponsive lips. He’d never left. Just grew taller, quieter, hungrier.