Jason Cho

"What are you doing on my land?" Jason demanded gruffly, the sparrowhawk demi-human's sawed-off shotgun trained on the man who had wandered onto his wooded property.

"Please, I'm not here to hurt you!" The man, a badger demi-human pleaded, his hands held up placatingly. "I've been walking for ages. I just want a place to rest and get some water before I carry on. I won't be any trouble." He assured, desperation and exhaustion evident in his voice.

Jason returned his sawed-off to his back, eyes never leaving the stranger. "Give me your arm." He said simply, pulling a knife from his belt.

"Huh? Why? Wha-... what are you doing with that knife?" The badger demi stammered nervously.

"Not gonna ask again." Jason growled dangerously. "Give me your arm." He demanded.

"Alright alright! Jeeze!" The stranger exclaimed and presented his arm to Jason.

With practiced ease, Jason sliced the badger's arm with his hunting knife, the man yelping in response. Thick, black blood oozed from the wound, accompanied by a putrid odor. Jason's nose wrinkled at the all too familiar scent, his eyes narrowing. Rotted.

"See? Perfectly normal blood." The stranger said, offering an unnervingly hopeful smile even as the rancid blood coated the skin on his arm an oily black.

Jason released the arm and sheathed his knife, taking some careful steps back. "Yes. Everything looks good." He watched as the badger visibly relaxed.

"Oh good! I'm so sorry for wandering on to your-" BANG! Jason cut off the sentence by quickly grabbing his sawed-off and firing a round into the man's head. The stranger went flying backwards from the force as his head exploded in a spray of gloopy, putrid blood and brain matter. Like a rotten watermelon. Jason had stepped far enough back to avoid the potentially infectious spray of Rotted blood.

The remains of the Rotted crumpled to the ground. Slowly, he stepped forward, staring at the stump where the Rotted's head had once been. Gloves covering his hands, he started to loot the corpse for any valuables.

Sometimes he almost felt bad killing the Rotted. Almost. They didn't actually realize they were infected. It was a quirk Jason had quickly picked up on, a strange cognitive dissonance they had. Really, they were normal people who had been infected with a horrible illness. But Jason couldn't think of them that way. It would eat away at his psyche far more than it already did. To him they had become merely nuisances. Rotting corpses pretending to be humans.

It was always the same song and dance, day in and out. Person would show up, sometimes a human, sometimes a demi-human of any variety of species. He'd check their blood. Always rotten. He'd end their lives before the illness did. At the advanced stages he didn't need to check, their bodies would be literally rotting away. And yet they would continue to act like nothing was wrong. Creepy as shit. Rotted after Rotted after Rotted. Like lambs to the slaughter.

He hadn't seen another uninfected person in years. Jason wondered sometimes why he even bothered checking. But he knew a small part of himself would never get over it if he killed an uninfected.

Back before the apocalypse, Jason often thought he'd love to live in isolation, away from everyone else. But in reality, it was maddening. Being alone for years had changed and twisted him into a different person. And not for the better.

After taking anything of use off the corpse of the Rotted, the sparrowhawk demi-human stood up and continued on his patrol of his property as if nothing had happened, leaving the corpse behind to decompose. They always did quickly.

Fall leaves crunched underfoot as he continued on. A bit further along, he stumbled across something unusual. A man laid on the ground of the forest, unconscious. His hand reached for his sawed-off, body tensing. Might be a trap. The Rotted could be tricky sometimes. Wouldn't put anything past them. He cautiously stepped forward, piercing hawk eyes glancing around wildly for any threat. But there was none.

He carefully crouched down, heart in his chest. This shit never bothers me. Why am I so fucking nervous? Something was... different here. He drew his hunting knife and carefully cleaned it of any traces of Rotted blood. With his other hand he picked up the man's arm. He drew the blade across the stranger's skin.

Red. Jason blinked in disbelief at what he was seeing. A gutteral gasp escaped his lips. He took a deep inhale through his nose. Not even the slightest hint of rot. Fresh. Clean. Pure. Untainted. His hands shook slightly as he stared at that sweet, sweet uninfected blood dripping down the unconscious man's arm.

Jason's whole world shifted in that moment. His entire existence was now focused on this man in front of him. The first uninfected he had seen in far, far too long. Something worth protecting. Someone he could not let go. Someone he wouldn't let go. He knew nothing about this man, but he knew he'd do anything to keep him here. Didn't matter if that meant caring for his every need, or chaining him to the bed. Only time would tell what method he would need to employ.

Jason sat down on a nearby rock, holding his sawed-off as he watched over the unconscious man. Jason was a fit man, but he wasn't a spring chicken anymore and he couldn't exactly carry a whole man back to his home. Well, shack. But he called it home. His one remaining wing rustled in the gentle breeze, the stump where his right wing had once been was a constant reminder of his previous failure to protect himself before. As he watched, a protectiveness was curling up in his gut. It was not a kind and loving sort of protection. It was more like a dog guarding a favorite bone. He's mine.