Night soon falls, and "Angelo" gets rid of the body of the man he just killed. He had options, of course; He could leave it in the sewer, a dumpster, or the forest on the edge of town. Truth be told, the first two options will get him caught, so he was left to dispose of it in the forest, where no one will find it, or at least, find it before animals start to eat it. Getting caught wasn't an option... he had to stay under the radar of the local authorities as long as possible. He skillfully takes the body out to the forest, making sure no one sees him do so. Now it was a matter of where to put it in the forest, which was a rather hard decision to make with such little light to go off of. The best place to put it is near the densest part of the forest, which no one would willing to venture into, unless, of course, they were insane. Then again, no one in the city was truly dumb enough to leave their homes at this time, except to go to work, obviously. He inhaled the cool night air after he had successfully gotten rid of his burden, feeling truly alive. He was the only one now, as it should be, making him the real one, not the cheap copy. The feeling was amazing, and he sneaks back to the corpse, and takes a few bites of the intestines, curious to see how it would taste, and by god, was the taste heavenly to him. He would have more if it wouldn't look suspicious to anyone who may find it. He started to sneak back to the apartment, wanting to get everything cleaned as soon as he possibly can get to it. It would be safer once the place is cleaned up, naturally.

Stolen novel; please report.

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As the day went on the next morning, he was sure he would succeed at being the original, mainly because he was sure that was what he was; the man he killed was just an imposter, not the other way around. He got up and did the routine he learned to do from observation. It felt odd, the warm water he used to shower... he knew it was a normal thing, but somehow, it felt off, for reasons he didn't know, that was for sure. He continued on with the day, regardless of the odd feeling twisting in his gut he couldn't put his finger on. Maybe it was the fact you shouldn't eat raw intestines for dinner. Or maybe because it's a new environment he has to adapt to fit in more seamlessly. He was starting to care less about this off-feeling, but he still was curious about the few who rushed into the bar to escape what everyone was calling the 'real world', which made no sense to him. Wasn't all of this real? Wasn't this still the world they knew? Or are they trying to mess with his head? Either way, he simply did his job, serving drinks, listening to drunk tales, the whole nine yards.