Meat is Meat
The large craggy faced man was dragging a large canvas bag down the stairs to the lower hold of the Paradis des Betes. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. The heavy bag was wet, and it left a dark trail on the stairs as he descended. The big man called out in a deep hoarse voice. "Little Shit Man! More feed for your dear animals. Where are you?!"
Sympos seemed to ooze out of the shadows nearby. He was filthy, and smelled of sweat, and shit, and rotten flesh. "You are too kind, Titus. Too kind."
Titus sneered. "Don't mistake it for kindness. You get rid of them better than dumping them in the bay."
Sympos nodded, his shit-smeared pale face lit by the flickering light of a torch in a sconce. "From death comes life, and you and I...we serve this natural pattern...we serve it until someday we feed the world with our own decay."
Titus laughed deeply. "Truly...you are the most fucked up person I have ever met. And I've met some folks...some seriously fucked up folks."
Sympos seemed taken aback. "You, you see me as broken in some way?"
Titus took a good hard look at the filth covered man who cared for the animals. "No...not broken. I didn't say that." Titus dropped the big wet bag at Sympos' feet with a heavy thump. "You have a code...you follow the code. I get that. Better than most probably. But, even you must know that you are one weird mother fucker."
Sympos knelt by the bag, untied the opening, and peeked inside. "I don't care what other people want. I know my purpose...I know the truth, and I follow that truth. Life is simpler if you follow the truth." A smile crossed Sympos' crusty lips. "What did this fellow do?"
Titus towered over the smaller man clutching at the big wet bag. "No questions. Doesn't matter. Meat is Meat."
Sympos nodded. "See. Truth is simple. Meat is meat. You can see it too, can't you Titus? Death is the foundation upon which life is built. You see it too."
Titus' craggy face was grimmer than usual, and the strange little man did not notice the sadness that crossed his face. "Yeah, Sympos...I see it. I've seen it my whole life."
Sympos struggled to drag the wet bag toward the animal stalls, and Titus stooped in and helped him. As the dirty little man emptied the bag, and set to work with a cleaver, Titus watched intently. As much as he wanted to, he refused to look away.
As Sympos tossed pieces into the animal pens, Titus cleared his throat. "Look Sympos. I know you...and the big woman, and that cook, and the navigator...you guys seem to be together a lot."
Sympos considered what was said. "We're not together that much."
Titus shook his head. "I mean, now and again, you seem to involve yourselves in trouble. Face it together. You helped catch that Miller that was killing the little girls. You helped save those miners in the cave-in."
Sympos tossed a severed foot into pen, and an animal roared within. "Yes, we have served the pattern. Chosen death for some, and fleeting life for others." Sympos smiled. "Our efforts have been useful."
A sneer crossed Titus' face again. "Well, I want in."
