[hider=Butcher Jim]
Despite its designation as an agri-world, like the majority of Imperial Worlds [i]Arishe 42.9[/i] maintained a facility for the development of corpse starch. For the most part this was so that it could be used in the creation of fabrics and clothing since unlike the standard Hive world, [i]Arishe 42.9[/i] could actually grow and sustain other food products, but some corpse starch would still end up on the plates of those living on the planet alongside the occasional shipment off-world to one of the other planets in system that for logistical reasons needed some extra corpse starch in a hurry. 

Of course, like all industries, workers were required in all stages of corpse starch production. From gathering the bodies of the recently deceased all the way to shipping the final product of corpse starch to whatever end it needed to go to. Jim was simply another cog in the machine who's job was, once a body had been properly stripped of their belongings, bionics and other mechanical parts removed and then cleaned, to take that body and convert it into its most basic parts so that they could be sorted, treated in the correct manner and used to the fullest. Skin sent down one chute, bones in another, muscles and meat sent along the belt. Anything that didn't belong in the human body that was missed by earlier sweeps got tossed in a bin to be sorted out later. 

It was bloody work, but Jim took a sense of pride in being rather good with the chain cleavers and meeting his quotas. Then one day, he accidentally slept in; He had been a little feverish and his body had refused to let him get up without an extra half an hour of sleep. While good for his health, this resulted in Jim being late for work and needing to skip the morning meal in order to have a chance of meeting deadlines. 

It wasn't so bad at first, but after a few hours of physically demanding work that required one to stay focused or risk adding a little more meat to the belt, Jim had a rather... strange thought as hungry threatened to distract him at bad times. The body he had been working on was a fatter then normal person, why not take a small amount of meat from it in order to give him the energy and focus to make it through to the next proper meal. Sure, the headgear they wore was meant to discourage such an action but it wouldn't be difficult to bypass it if he tried. Not wishing to lose an arm due to a moment of distraction, Jim took a handful of raw meat and slipped it past his face mask.

For a moment he thought that it would be wrong to ate raw human meat. Disgusting. But once it was actually in his mouth and he was eating it, he honestly didn't have the words to describe the sensation. It was so rich... so juicy. It was honestly one of the best things he had ever tasted before in his life. Only the threat of an overseer stopping by to 'motivate' him to keep working prevented Jim from continuing to eat from the corpse and getting back to work. But as time passed other opportunities to sneak a handful presented themselves and there was a part of Jim that wanted to make sure that the earlier taste hadn't just been a strange fluke.  

It hadn't been. Once the shift was over and he had the next proper meal Jim couldn't help but find it... bland. Lacking somehow. He still ate it, but it just didn't have that same texture and taste that he had experienced earlier. As time past and other shifts came and went, Jim found himself sneaking little bits of meat whenever he felt he could get away with it. He always seemed to be more energetic and focused whenever he had at least one morsel stolen from the production line and soon the idea of going a shift without a fix was just madness to him. 

The fact that he was processing bodies faster then before at a high quality of success was an added bonus to this arrangement; Where before he had been meeting quotas and deadlines, now he was taking to the task with such zeal that he was actually surpassing quotas of bodies being processed a day to the point where the overseers had noticed and were using him as an example for the other workers to follow. 

It was around this point that what Jim had originally believed to be his own impulses revealed that wasn't the case. A voice that materialized in his head, speaking to him of rites and rituals and the secrets of blood and muscle. While initially Jim had been privately concerned by the discovery that something or someone was speaking to him inside of his mind that wasn't himself, he couldn't help but find himself trusting it and its advice. After all, following its guidance had worked out wonderfully for Jim so far; He was physically in the best shape of his life, his mind felt sharper then ever before and the overseers hadn't beaten him for months. Whatever it was, it clearly had his interests at heart.

So after his shift, Jim found some unemployed dredge in an alleyway that was eating something likely ransacked from a garbage pile and introduced them to the business end of a chain cleaver. The process was messy, but apart from the screaming of the soon to be corpse there really wasn't much difference between it and Jim's shift work. With the ritual that the voice was informing him of, Jim enjoyed the greatest meal he had ever had in his life. 

The voice itself, a roaring inferno of a fiery tone that felt like it could shake the world just by yelling, affectionately bestowed upon Jim the title of Butcher. There would be more to do in the future of course, but in that very moment Jim felt such a deep sense of contentment with himself that the idea of his life before almost made him weep.            
[/hider]