There is a cold darkness.
There is a singular light.
There is a cutting board.
Three candles illuminate the Administrator's face from all sides as he barely manages to keep his wobbly feet from buckling under the surrounding darkness, pockets of intersecting space abstracting most of the the Administrator‘s senses. Leaving him only with the dull texture of the steel butcher's knife wrapped around his hands and the baby-pink aprons around his waist.
Before the Administrator stood three humanoid figures, pale and featureless. They’re long, undulating cloaks reaching into the very foundations of the surrounding darkness. Their slender arms bent and contorted in what the Administrator could only describe as annoyance. Steadying his breath, he looked back at his blade. The rhythmic thud of his heart melding together with the ringing of his ears, almost as if to encourage him to begin.
His will newly steeled, the Administrator jotted down a patch of darkness at the corner of his vision, swiftly turning his attention towards his assignment.
Following a practiced motion, the Administrator felt the sound of limp meat reverberate in the kitchen. The weight of cold meat pushing down on the cutting board. Furrowing his eyebrows, the Administrator took the bird by its stiff throat. He then readjusted it’s neck as the birds colorful wings lay flat, the sight of its shape a true marvel. Warm feathers that shone in colors never before or again seen. The muscles of its feet holding together 333 razor-sharp talons. Its beak worn yet still packed with a thousand fractals worth of strength. Its dead eyes coldly gazing upon Administrator as if to mock him a final time, sending a shiver down his spine.
The Administrator gulped, hoping to swallow his doubts with his spit.
Feeling adequately composed, he took the bird by its throat once more. Aligned the edge of his knife with its cold, shiny wings. And began to scrape its feathers off. The inconceivability of the feathers' composition slowly crept down the Administrator chest. Gripping the bird once more, he flips it over. Continuing to aggressively shave, stopping only near the tender pink skin. He found his blade to be dulling against the grain faster than he thought it would. Hoping it would last until he got to the bones. Trying to ignore the faint sounds of scraping metal and ripping flesh as he worked.
The Administrator finally stopped as the growing pain in his shoulders caught up to him, beads of sweat from his face dropping down onto the cutting board. He would not stop for long, however, as his moment of inaction did not bode well to the figures.
"Sloppy attitude."
"Room for improvements"
"Do you think you belong here?"
The Administrator grunted under his breath, concerned for reasons far beyond the menial disgust of the three judges. Nevertheless, he wasn't one to rush, so he pushed that particular thought back into his mind for now and continued his work. Moving on to methodically chopping the bones, his nigh-robotic rhythm only interrupted every once in a while by the premature caving of the weaker bones.
Once everything had been suitably seperated, the Administrator turned the bird 90 degrees, guiding his knife across its leg muscles. It's cut skin bending open. He then grabbed the leg, twisting the base until the thigh bones popped out from the socket, forcing a crooked sound to echo across the kitchen. After cutting through the leg directly, he did the same for the other leg, somewhat mesmerized at the birds' still twitching flesh. The Administrator lifted the bird's wings, brushing off the few feathers stuck to it before slicing through, feeling a stray feather land atop his forearm as he rolled down his sleeves to hide it.
As he moved to flip the bird off its side, the Administrator felt the three figures glare once more, letting out a small sigh under his breath before cutting the wings further into flats and drums. Feeling the menial discomfort of his task, asense of impatience rose up from the Administrator's throat like bile. His quiet anger causing him to quickly drop his knife at his side, pulling out a pair of shears from his pocket. He aligned the shears along a line of white fat across the bird's breast, and swiftly cut through both sides before rinsing it quickly under a faucet he pulled out from the darkness. He began tapping his foot as a tumor of dirty blood and grime washed out into the void. The bird's main carcass and head followed shortly behind.
With an almost proud bravado, the Administrator flips the bird on its breast, delivering one last cut right down the middle. Bisecting the cutting board along with the bird, its many parts now laying scattered across the counter.
"Too arrogant."
"Wasted time."
"Do you think you belong here??"
If not for his refined stature the Administrator would've cursed out the three right then and there, instead opting to drag his hands across his exchatsued face. Shooting a quick look back at the figure stationed at his left, or a small, single dot right behind it.
"Indeed, it seems that this attempt at diplomacy was unnecessary." He said, the sound of sweatdrops emanating in the now silent space. His attempt at untidying his apron swiftly interrupted by a burst of disgustingly high-pitched laughter.
"Oh, sweet, poor, innocent you!"
"Your skills are quite unconvincing!"
"Do you still think you belong here???"
The Administrator scoffed as he adjusted the feather now within his pocket.
"No, I shall take my leave early it seems."
"Time waster."
"Please do."
"Don't return."
The Administrator finished gathering his things, looking around one last time before pushing past one of the three figures. Feeling his shoulder enveloped in a momentary heat as he got behind them. He decided not to bother acknowledging the palpable hate coming off the sharp stares thrown his way, opting to exhale instead.
"Oh, of course, Reverend Trismagistus. But there's just one more thing I must bring to your attention." The Administrator said as he approached a seemingly unassuming edge of the intersecting space, spinning on his right heel before snapping his fingers.
"Liar."
"Hm?"
"What?"
"You missed a spot."
A ripple is heard.