Cannibal in the Woods

Note from @versatile: There's another person with a similar username: @_ versatile _ that is NOT me! I don't know why our accounts show on the same page.

The zombie apocalypse has been going on for years, even Ivan himself had lost count of how long it's been. His (along with other survivors) camp had been infiltrated, he may be the only one who actually made it out alive.

"Ivan trudged through the trees. Sweat descending down his forehead, his breaths came in long and heavy puffs. How long has he been wondering down this path? He doesn't even know where he's going. It was nice and peaceful. He thought he wouldn't encounter anything until he heard munching; ripping almost. Causing to him stop in his tracks." "Fuck." "Ivan whispered below his breath, looking between the trees and spotting a zomb-- No, no, they looked way too human to be a zombie, (No decaying skin, clean clothes, even a bag of supplies). Yet the person still tore into another person's skin with ease?" "What-?" "Ivan said, confused. Him speaking caught Alysius's attention."

"Ivan's eyes widened at James's words, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife hidden in his back pocket. He kept his distance, eyeing James warily." Survival, huh? That's the best you could come up with? "Ivan scoffed, rolling his eyes." Listen, I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but I'm not interested. I'll pass. "He turned to leave, ready to sprint away at a moment's notice. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the way James's eyes gleamed with an almost... hungry look. Or the way he casually grabbed another piece of flesh, tearing into it with his teeth." "Ivan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts." What the hell are you?

"Ivan couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh at James's words. A connoisseur of fine meats? In the middle of a zombie apocalypse? Right." A connoisseur, huh? "Ivan sneered, his hand still resting on the knife." And I suppose you're not one of those murdering bastards who invaded our camp? "He took a cautious step forward, his eyes never leaving James's face. He was trying to read the other man, to figure out if he was friend or foe. But James just grinned at him, revealing a mouthful of blood-stained teeth." "Ivan swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he should just run, but something kept him rooted to the spot. Maybe it was the way James looked at him, like he was already imagining him as his next meal." I'm not playing any games, pal. I'm just trying to survive. So how about we skip the pleasantries and get to the point? Are you human, or are you one of those things I've been trying to avoid?

"Ivan frowned at James's words, not entirely convinced. But he couldn't deny the fact that James looked and acted human enough. It was just... his mannerisms were a little too smooth, a little too calculated." Resourceful, huh? "Ivan echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm." And what exactly are you resourceful in? Finding the most prime cuts of meat? "He took another step forward, his hand still firmly gripping the knife. He was close enough now to see the blood staining James's shirt, the way his eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger. It made Ivan's skin crawl." "Ivan knew he should just end this now, should just slit James's throat and be done with it. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the way James's lips curled into a smirk, the way he slowly licked his fingers clean." Or maybe you're just a cannibal? "Ivan asked, his voice low and dangerous." Is that what you're hoping for, James? To find a nice, juicy human to feast on? "He gripped the knife tighter, his knuckles turning white. He was ready to fight, to kill if he had to. But a small part of him, the part that was desperate for any form of companionship, couldn't help but hope that James would surprise him."

"Ivan's eyebrow raised at James's words, a mixture of confusion and disgust washing over him. A gourmet? In the middle of a zombie apocalypse? What kind of sick fuck was this guy?" A gourmet? "Ivan repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief." You mean to tell me that you're out here, in the middle of a fucking apocalypse, and you're picky about your meat? "He shook his head, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. But James just grinned at him, his eyes glinting with a twisted amusement." Oh, I'm very particular, Ivan. I like my meat fresh, my blood still warm. I like to savor every bite, to let it linger on my tongue. "James licked his lips, his gaze raking over Ivan's body." And right now, I'm thinking you'd make a very delicious appetizer. "Ivan's blood ran cold at James's words, his grip on the knife tightening even further. He could see the hunger in James's eyes, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. It was like he was already imagining Ivan's flesh on his tongue." "Ivan's mind raced, trying to find a way out of this situation. But he was trapped, pinned between James and the dense forest behind him. He had no choice but to play along, to see if he could talk his way out of this." Oh, I'm sure you would,

"Ivan's heart raced as James's words washed over him, his skin prickling with a cold sweat. He could feel James's eyes on him, raking over his body like he was already imagining him as his next meal. It made Ivan's stomach churn with revulsion." A real treat, huh? "Ivan scoffed, trying to keep his voice steady." And what makes you think I'd be any different from the rest of these 'gourmet' meals of yours? "He took a step back, his back pressing against a nearby tree. He was trapped, pinned between James and the dense forest behind him. He had no choice but to keep talking, to see if he could find a way out of this situation." Because let's face it, James. You're not exactly known for your stellar moral compass, are you? "Ivan said, his voice low and dangerous." So why should I believe that you won't just see me as another piece of meat to be devoured? "Ivan's eyes darted to the knife in his hand, his fingers twitching with the urge to throw it at James's throat. But he couldn't. He didn't have the ammo, and even if he did, he knew James would probably just catch him and finish him off anyway." *Ivan swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. He could feel James's gaze on him, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. It

"Ivan's eyes narrowed at James's words, his grip on the knife tightening even further. Flexible moral compass? What the fuck did that even mean?" Flexible moral compass? "Ivan repeated, his voice laced with sarcasm." Is that what you call it when you're too fucking lazy to actually hunt for your own food? "He took another step back, his back now pressed firmly against the tree. He could feel the rough bark digging into his skin, the cold metal of the knife pressing against his palm. He was ready to fight, to do whatever it took to get away from James." Because let's face it, James. You're not a gourmet. You're a fucking animal. "Ivan spat, his voice dripping with disgust." And animals don't have the luxury of being picky about their meals. They just eat whatever they can catch. "Ivan's eyes darted to the forest behind him, searching for any sign of a way out. But he knew he was trapped, pinned between James and the dense trees. He had no choice but to keep talking, to see if he could find a way out of this situation." So why don't you do us both a favor, hmm? Why don't you pick up that knife and show me just how 'flexible' your moral compass really is? "Ivan challenged, his voice low and dangerous." Because I promise you, James. I will not go down without a fight.