Who could blame people for losing their memories all the time? They were such finicky things, always slithering to the untouched wrinkles of the brain until one could never remember their slippery tails again. Some desperately chased after their lost memories, hollering out names in hopes of catching one last glimpse. But it was all pointless, really. Beck accepted and submitted to the waves of time, stiff as a dead horse while the tides beat over his head, eroding experiences away. The only information he clung onto included the raggedy scraps of an identity, memorized screenplays and useless trivia from his favorite movies, and practical knowledge accumulated over the years -- the memories that would never wash clean carved themselves into his skin. The rest retreated with the seafoam to drown. But that was okay. It's not. He didn't need those bad, bad memories away. I miss her. In fact, he was better off without them! Unburdeneding most of the past freed him to do whatever he wanted!

    Why didn't they want to be like him?

    Another one chasing their tail after a forgotten life stood beyond the undergrowth, jabbering away in response to the questions his peers launched at the stranger. The scrawny cat twitched his nose at the new scent before forcing his lungs to suck in a steadying breath. Everyone was already engaged in conversation; he wouldn't be noticed. Belly low to the ground and matted with mud, Beck inched out into the open, glossy eyes stretched wide in observation to study the apparent joiner just as intently he watched them. It didn't take long for the first thought that popped into his skull to be blurted out in a string of monotonous words. "Ya know Crow, don'tcha?" A simple inference, given the way Marlon hesitated at a sentence upon the sight of the other tabby, and how Crow reacted. Subtle, but still present enough for the poltergeist to notice. Years of focusing on fine details to predict whether people were threats or not was admittedly helpful. A piercing squeal abruptly sounded from his disfigured mouth and as he flopped back onto mangy haunches, Beck offered a rattling giggle, "It's just like the soap!" Always a fan of the melodramatics on television, this plot twist would be a real kick to the boredom constantly gnawing at his ear. Hopefully.

    Dreamily placing bandaged paws onto his cheeks -- or more accurately, one remaining cheek and the burnt hole exposing teeth -- Beck snickered to himself for a moment. His paranoia quickly returned to control, however, and the dark-furred feline snapped from his giggling to hiss, "Who ar-re ya 'nd why d'ya want to join? Freckled features darkened as he scrambled to his feet, hackles bristling more than usual. "'Cause if you're here to, to 'cause trouble, I'll feed ya to Audrey!"