(( I'm out of town and bored so I wrote something. Sorry if my writing is shoddy, I haven't written anything in awhile.))
"I hate people." He said, wiping the blood from the claw blade.
-Two Hours Earlier-
He woke up, ran water over his face, and put on an old pair of jeans that were near his bed. Day four or five in a row wearing the same pair? Who knows. He lived far from humanity in a little house surrounded by Rotters, which was probably his favorite feature of the house. It kept people away, and he could grow his plants and drink his tea in relative peace. Every once in awhile a Rotter got too close to the house and got some funny ideas but for the most part it was a quiet life.
He shuffled from his bed to the closet, opening the doors and revealing his relatively bland choice of outfits. Plaid. Plaid. Strips. An old suit full of memories. Plaid. Checkered. He switched it up today and went with a plaid shirt. God he hates plaid.
Throwing the shirt on and donned his farmer hat and sunglasses before heading to the kitchen where it was always super bright because it faced East and the sun poured in.
"I really need to go scavenge some curtains." He thought as he whipped up some vegetables for breakfast. It was a simple life and therefore he had a simple diet. Carrots, Broccoli, Ants, Squirrels and the best thing man ever invented, tea. Occasionally he found something while scavenging and treated himself but for the most part he lacked any delicacies. As he whipped up the meal he looked over at the wall he placed "Them". The mask, flanked on either side by claw blades he had forged during his time as a Cleaner. He grinned slightly to himself remembering the old days.
He just sat down to breakfast and had hardly gotten the first bite in--
*knock knock knock*
Three, small, polite sounding knocks on his door. For a moment he was confused, then concerned. Who travels through hordes of undead fucks to politely knock on a dilapidated house in the middle of nowhere? He looked out the window creepily trying to be stealthy but most likely not at all.
It was some lanky white guy with a shaved head and a backpack on. He wore pre-war military fatigues and brown jeans. "Hello sir!" he called, probably having seen through the window. "I just wanted to ask you a few questions if you don't mind?"
Slowly stepping up to the door, he replied "What do you want?"
"I was just wondering if you knew a guy named Pete?"
His eyes twitched, hate when people call him that.
"No. I haven't meet anyone in months, and I'm not a Pete! Now go away!" He placed his ear to the door but heard nothing but silence. Then it gave in. The door toppled inwards, knocking him back. The stranger growled beastily as he stood up, standing in an attack pose waiting for his victim to rise.
Pushing the door aside he stood up, coughing. First human contact in what, a year maybe two at this point? And this is the shit he has to deal with?
"Pete. You're wanted for possession..."
Ignoring the man that kept rambling off crimes, he walked over to his table, picked up the glass of tea and sipped it before turning back to the assailant.
"... and robbery of Lightbearer statues."
He walked over to the blades on the wall and calmly slipped one of them onto his left wrist. It had been awhile. He pulled open a nearby drawer and messed around in it before pulling out a yellow chip.
"I'm going to call you Drew alright?"
"Alright Drew. Your contract, hit, whatever, probably is worth less than a yellow, or your life. Pick one or the either."
Drew looked nervous, as if it was his first time murdering someone.
"I uh, I need proof you're dead." Drew said "But I like that yellow you're holding..." he said.
"Yeah no I get it. There is a mask there. Take it to your boss."
Drew slowly put away his knife, a little nervous looking still before slowly strolling over to the wall and picking it up. He turned around and took the yellow chip as well from the grinning Pete. It was a little unsettling.
Drew started for the door before turning around to thank his would have been victim "I really appreciate--" he said before being cut short by claws dug into his chest.
"Sorry Drew. I may be a hermit but Im still a Traveler. I guess." he shrugged "I can't just give away a yellow."
Drew just kind of slumped down and died
"Oh," he said looking down at the dead body "It's Petyr asshole."