Chapter 1: Meet Lance. He's a Zombie

Lance was on his way home from his shit-job of Altea Pizza delivery boy. The owners had kept him late that evening making sure he'd cleaned up and gave them the agreed upon thirty percent of his tips from that night.

He looked down at his beat-up watch and noted that it was closer to two in the morning than one. He was slightly peeved at the owners for keeping him so late without feeding him.

Fuck. Was he hungry.

His stomach rumbled its agreement and he gave it a few sympathetic pats. While he looked at his stomach mournfully, there was a cry of distress from the alley in front of him. It must have been his lucky day.

Lance lingered outside and leaned against the wall as he heard the scuffle intensify. There was a choked off wail before a shadowed figure rushed from the shadows. He spared Lance a look, before he continued fleeing.

Lance licked his lips and his stomach grumbled violently as he stood up straight and sauntered into the alley. His mouth watered at the sight of blood pooling beneath the victim. He stepped closer before the person's face snapped up to find the newcomer. When they saw Lance, they let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank God! You have to help me! Please call 911."

Lance made a sound of annoyance at the fact that the person wasn't dead.

"What are you doing? Do you not have a phone? I'd call myself but they threw it in the dumpster. Please, I've been stabbed. If you don't hurry I'll-"

Lance looked down at his watch again. Now the time read that it was a little past two in the morning. Lance gave a soft groan as he waited for the person to die.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Help me! What are you waiting for?"

"Well." Lance stretched the word. "I'm waiting for you to die so I can eat. And I'm really hungry. So could you please hurry it up?"

"Eat? What are you? A fucking vampire or something?" Their breath was stuttering and the more panicked they got, the more blood spilled from their wounds.

Lance gave a humorless laugh. "No. Not a vampire." Lance took a step back and leaned against the alley wall as he waited for the victim to expire. "Guess again."

"F-f-fuck you!" They were getting weaker. Any minute now.

"Yeah, yeah. You really want me to tell you?" Lance asked coyly.

The person sank back to the ground, too tired to keep looking at Lance. Their head pillowed by their arm, they gave a quiet. "Please?"

They were probably still asking for help, but Lance wasn't about to let this meal escape so he treated it like they'd answered his question.

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He paused and the person shifted to look at him. Their eyes unfocused as they tried to find him. Probably hoping that Lance would help them after all. "I'm a zombie."

"You son of a-" and with a bloody cough, they passed out from blood loss. They weren't quite dead yet, so Lance gave them a few more moments. When he didn't see their chest rising and falling, Lance skulked over to the body and checked its pulse points for any activity. When the telltale fluttering was no longer present, Lance swallowed back the pool of saliva that had been collecting in his mouth.

"Finally." He took the person's arm that he'd been checking for a pulse and ripped it from the body. Lance sat back on his haunches as he bit into the arm. It was sinewy and had hardly any fat. Definitely not the best arm he'd ever eaten, but he had been desperate for a meal.

He heard shuffling from further down the alley and glanced up to find his handler, Hunk. The large man was staring at him accusingly, so Lance raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You know, not helping someone is almost the same as killing them." Hunk admonished.

"I save them sometimes, Hunk. I just haven't eaten in so long." Lance explained through a mouthful of meat. When he swallowed, he continued. "Besides, they were probably going to die anyways. Their attacker hit an artery."

Hunk stepped closer and found a skinny young man lying in a puddle of his own blood. His brown hair a matted mess and his skin was almost white from the blood loss, "Poor guy." He mourned.

Lance shrugged as he sucked the meat off of the two bones he had in his hands. He left the flesh on the hand, too many little bones that he could choke on if he tried to eat it.

Hunk watched him in silence, trying to contain his disgust. Lance appreciated the effort.

He was cutting into the torso with his claws when Hunk cleared his throat. "Pidge gave me a message today."

Lance stilled, "What'd she want?"

Hunk paused, trying to gauge Lance's mood before he told him the news. "She said… that the coven was going to be relocating next week."

Lance stood sharply as he turned to face Hunk. "What?"

Hunk took a step back, wary of the zombie's anger. "Pidge said that the coven was relocating out of the city. Something about gaining too much popularity for their cover establishment."

Lance stopped his approach of the other man with a sigh. Hurting Hunk wasn't worth it. Not for this momentary anger he felt. With a huff, he sank back down until he was crouched over the body and began to viciously tear into its abdomen. "Set up an appointment with her before they move. I want to have a say in this."

There was a long pause from behind him before Hunk responded. "Okay, Lance."

The bigger man's footsteps retreated and Lance let out a sigh as he tried to enjoy the feeling of not being ravenously hungry for the first time in weeks. When he was finished, he threw the bones into a nearby dumpster. He left the person's soiled and tattered remains of his clothes where he'd ripped them from his body.

"Glad that's over." Lance remarked as he turned to leave the alley. He checked his clothes to make sure there wasn't anything incriminating on them before he slunk out of the alley.

He made his way back to his shitty apartment and collapsed onto his lumpy bed. He remembered to reach for the small pill bottle on his nightstand and pop one of the pills he'd gotten from the witches responsible for the mess he was in.

He had another dreamless "sleep" that would end when the sun rose in a few hours.