The world was a funnel of grey.
It was when she died that was when the world stopped for him.
No warmth, no brightness, no reason. Nothing. Just the faint hum of the dullness that ate at his soul.
Raven sat in the chair at the back of the restaurant, cigarette nestled between his fingers. He was sitting near the freezer, and the air around him was thick with the scent of grease and sweat.
He flicked the end, the ashes slowly landing in the ashtray while his dull, red eyes looked into a void of memories.
His ear flicked when he heard the muffled sound of the door opening and his coworker walking in.
Raven's alabaster fur and dark orchid-tinted hair stood out in the colourful restaurant, and his work clothes were as dull and dark as his life. He brought the cigarette to his lips, took a deep breath, and blew it out a second later. Arm propped up on the side of the freezer, hand hanging over the ashtray.
His coworker, a rowdy and loud coyote, complained about the trash. His dirt-stained eyes trailed to Raven, and he let out a loud and obnoxious sigh.
"Dude, quit being a crybaby and help. You sit there and whine, "Oh woe is me, I have nothing, my everything is gone" Come on, man! Just let the shit go already!! It's been 3 weeks since she died."
Raven's eyes slowly looked from the floor to the Coyote.
"Don't look at me like a fuckwit, get your ass up and do something, be helpful. You're more functional around here when you aren't bitching and moping about your dead daughter."
Raven took one long drag of his cigarette. His face was lit by the end before it dimmed, and the light from the hall illuminated Raven's crimson eyes. He was silently staring at the Coyote.
Raven felt something stir in his chest. With a slight sigh, he stood up, leaving his almost-finished cigarette in the ashtray. He then walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bag, looking back at the Coyote.
"Helpful enough for you?" Raven said in a monotone voice.
The Coyote nodded and grabbed another bag, carrying it outside. Raven followed suit as they headed to the large garbage bin outside.
The Coyote heaved the bag into the bin, and Raven did the same, closing the lid. Both went back inside. Raven went to the kitchen and wiped down the counters, staring off as he cleaned.
The Coyote walked over and lit a cigarette in his mouth, speaking more as he went on.
"See, Raven, you're more helpful when you're not a mopey bitch. The best you can do with depression and shit is move on. I don't get why people like you whine for so long. Yeah, it's tragic what happened, but you don't need to always cry about her. You weren't there for her much anyway."
Raven chuckled before stopping and letting out a sigh.
In a swift motion, Raven grabbed the knife block and smashed it into the Coyote's head with a startled yelp. The Coyote tumbled to the ground, clutching the side of his face, feeling the warm liquid leaking through his fur.
"The fuck Raven-"
Raven grasped the Coyote's throat, his hands tightening ever so slowly. The Coyote fought, but Raven held firm, feeling his coworker squirm underneath him.
The Coyote, desperate, tried prying Raven's hands away but couldn't. Raven's face was a well of fury, his red eyes locked onto the Coyote's brown orbs.
Raven watched as the life fled his coworker's eyes and became still. He let go and moved off the body, sitting against the cabinet; his hands grasped his head, and his breathing was heavy and fast, but he couldn't help but chuckle.
His chuckle led to a laugh, and he stood up and leaned on the counter, giggling like he had heard a funny joke. He had to stop himself, and with a sigh, his laughing and giggling ceased.
He brushed his hair back and then looked down at the body of his coworker; he thought about what he had done, taking someone's life, but what caught him was the thrill, how he felt alive doing it. His misery and depression are gone, and his adrenaline pumping through him enough to make him feel something. His dull world became a mix of colours.
As he stood there, staring down at the body, he realized others would ask questions. He looked out the window to the garbage bin but shook his head, knowing someone would find it. He turned around to see the deep fryers.
A wicked grin formed on his face as he bent down to the scattered knives and placed them in a row, holding a hefty meat cleaver in his paw, tilting it to look at his reflection.
The sizzling of the fryers was almost therapeutic to his ears. Tapping the knife against the cutting board was almost like a beat he maintained while the fresh smell of grease, oil, and something more decadent lingered in the air. Raven even hummed to himself. He grabbed the meat and cut it into small chunks, putting them into the fryer to hear the sizzling and inhale the scents.
The fryer's rhythmic beeping let him know the first batch was ready. He took the basket out and used a pair of tongs to remove the crispy meat.
Raven then piled them on a plate, covering them with a paper towel to let the oil drip. His curiosity improved him, so he picked up a piece, gently blew on it, and then took a bite.
His eyes widened at the rich and enticing flavour, better than expected.
After the second and third batches, he placed them in a large box in a freezer labelled "Nuggets."