Josef Pierre never hated his house, despite his poverty. Even though his living conditions were most certainly distressing, he was fine with it. Since the earliest days he could remember, he rested in the cramped little house (the term house is used quite inappropriately here, a more fitting term would be quarters), which always smelled like blood and salt water, due to their close proximity to the Atlantic Ocean. It would be intoxicating for a normal person, but Josef had grown up with this smell. He was the son of two meat butchers, French immigrants to New York seeking opportunity. He had become accustomed to the sights of animal gore, as his parents taught him how to cut and prepare different animals before he could properly speak. He occasionally helped out with the butcher shop, but his focus was on school. He attended school, though only briefly, as his mother succumbed to tuberculosis, forcing Josef's father to pull him out of school to keep the shop running. Josef learned very early that life is a game of chance, and sometimes, Lady Luck will damn you to cutting meat for the forseeable future.
Of course, Josef couldn't stay a child forever. He had been doing the same monotonous tasks for around 7 straight years when he finally turned 20. By this time, the butchery had gained some success. Granted, it was barely more than a living wage, but they could get by and even improve their business a bit more. Of course, Josef had to wake up much earlier to begin work, but he didn't mind it. After all, what else did he have to do? One otherwise ordinary morning, while preparing meat for the morning, Josef suddenly felt awfully hungry. This hunger was different from whatever he had experienced in the past, as it felt deeper and more demanding than usual. The famine felt like it was coming straight from his very core. Luckily for him, the butchery had received an extra shipment from their supplier. He decided to take advantage of this opportunity, and reached for a crowbar nearby. He opened the crate, and reached in to grab a pound. He placed it on the cutting board, and as he cut into it, he noted how it was unusually firm and red. He set it on a small pan over his family's stove, and cooked and seasoned it. Finally, it was ready. Josef sat down and ate the meat.
There was something in the meat. Josef couldn't tell, but there was. The first bite awakened something unnatural inside of him. As he eats, he grows hungrier. His slow, calculated cuts begin to turn into hasty slashes, which turns into him stabbing the whole piece with his fork and devouring it. He chokes, but he doesn't care. He immediately decides to cook more, and he runs to the crate to start cooking. He takes a piece of meat and throws it on the pan, quicjly cooking it. He doesn't take the time to season it, he only watches in hunger as the meat's deep, dark red slowly turns brown. It isn't even cooked when he hastily grabs the meat with his bare hands, and takes a large bite. The burning of the meat and its fat blister Josef's olive skin, yet he barely winces as he bites into the slab. His mouth is a void, and he barely feels the heat as he stuff meat down his throat. It still isn't enough; after swallowing, he runs to the crate of meat. He won't cook the meat, no; that takes way too much time. No, no, he needs to eat now. He bites into the raw meat, chewing and gnawing at it. The bloody, salty taste of iron blesses his tongue, and it feels so good. So, so good. He eats more and more of the meat, spilling fluids all over his face and body. He was an animal, a starving wolf who had finally caught the rabbit it had been hunting for days. The meat had only increased his hunger, and he was moving more and more animalistic by the moment, accidentally biting his fingers a few times. Then, he stopped. He heard something.
A rhythmic pattern of footsteps echoed in the alley behind the butchery, bouncing off of the brick walls and window. The passerby, oblivious to the situation, walked down, smoking a cigar. How unlucky. Josef paused to turn and look, but he was not still for long. The man had no time to scream as Josef pounced on him. In a single moment, the man is dead, and Josef is feasting on his corpse. The same taste from the meat endows his taste buds. When he was done, just minutes later, the man was nothing but a mess of fluids, organs, and bones. Still, the butcher was not satiated. He wanted more, he needed more. Unfortunately for the people around him, Josef had memorized this general area like the back of his hand. Not wanting to wait any longer, he broke the back window of one resident's home, and began his hunt. As he massacred more and more people, it felt as if the only thing that was being fed was the force of the relentless hunger puppeting him.
By dawn, six more men are dead. The commotion from the second killing caused concern from neighbors, who summoned the police. The press immediately goes wild, coining a name for him; "The Yonkers Cannibal." Of course, due to the sheer messiness of the crimes, Josef is quickly caught. When the police enter the butchery, it's a complete mess. Piles of gore, both animal and human, scatter the rooms. Josef's father is nowhere to be found, an anecdote that is never solved by the authorities. Maybe he disappeared, escaping after finding out what his son had done, or maybe he was one of the many unidentifiable piles of meat. Josef was shot multiple times by the police. Reports say that a few bullets hit him in the chest, with some saying that he was even shot in the head two or three times, but somehow he lived. He was sent Jail, and kept under surveillance by armed guards. He was sentenced to execution. Josef spent his final night awake, not fearful or regretful, but rather starving. He eyed the guards, who looked awfully delicious. As he watched them, he noticed more guards appear. These ones looked different. They wore different armor and carried different weapons. He was trying to observe them, but he suddenly felt a pinch in his neck, and became very sleepy. In his last moments of consciousness, he touched his neck, and felt what seemed to be a dart, piercing his neck.
When Josef wakes up, he is in a white room. There are two gates on both sides, and high on one wall, there seems to be an observation window. He feels cold metal on his face, and realizes he is wearing in some sort of muzzle, preventing him from opening his mouth. He attempts to remove it, but he can't move his hands, and looks down to see that his hands are tied up. He is wearing a straight-jacket, with the numbers 0792 printed on his chest and back. Seeing the shadows of people in the window, he leaps up, hoping to get a nice meal, but alas, the window is much too high. Either way, the security precautions weighing him down would prevent him from killing and eating anybody. One of them says something, and Josef hears the opening of a gate. Turning around, there is a large cow, with meat in all of the right places. He doesn't stutter, immediately rushing to the animal. Something on his body clicks, and he can suddenly free his mouth and hands. He rips into the live animal, biting as it thrashes and yells. The complete splatterfest covers the area with carnage, and the animal is quickly killed and stripped of its meat. As Josef finished the animal, gas begins to fill the room. He pays no attention to this, continuing to eat even as he grows more and more tired. As he was about to drift off to sleep, he reflected on just how lucky he is to have had such a good feast.