Killer Inside: A Repo! Roleplay (SevenxGoatse)

Shilo slept like the dead.

Some days, he worried she wouldn’t wake up at all.

But he was careful; he was precise with her medication, he monitored her eating, made sure she stayed hydrated, kept an eye on her blood pressure at all times - his sweet daughter, the one shining light left in his miserable life. Some days, he was wracked with guilt for what he was doing to her; locking her away from the rest of the world, keeping her in solitude with only the books and television to keep her company, and only a bird’s eye view of the city to tell her what life would be like outside the gates.

Poisoning her.

But only a little.

Really, just enough to keep her inside; he would never hurt Shiloh - ever.

He just couldn’t let her leave, he had to keep her physically weakened because he couldn’t risk it - there were things outside that would traumatize and jade his precious little girl; all of the murder and prostitution and drugs that riddled every side street in the city, and all of the death and chaos and dirt that covered the main roads. It simply wasn’t a positive influence.

And then there was always the risk that she might get hurt, or someone might touch her - after all, there were bad people out there and she was so very naïve, it didn‘t make sense to let her out now that she had been so sheltered - it was even more dangerous for her, wasn‘t it?

Besides, if she went out, she could get hit by a car, or bitten by a rabid animal, or catch some horrible airborne virus, or she might drop some acid, or fall in with the wrong crowd and get tattoos.

Or someone might take her away - from him.

He couldn’t have that, not after Marni, he couldn’t lose Shilo too, because then he would be left alone with his darkness. At least with Shilo there, he could keep it at bay, because with her around, he was a father, without her, he was just -

- a monster.

Monster. Murderer. Killer.

Kill.

Nathan gently stroked his daughter’s face as she slept, exhausted by her sickness. She always looked like such a little angel when she was asleep, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead before rising from where he had been perched on her bed. A look out the window told him how late it was, and for a moment he pressed his head and palms to the cool glass; he could see the entire city from there, but he just wanted it to go away, he wanted to close his eyes to it, and open them again and discover that it was just him and Shilo left.

Just them.

A cold chill went through him; he heard his daughter stir.

“Dad?”

“I have to go Shi,” Nathan replied, turning to her, and the moonlight glinted off the lenses of his glasses, “Go back to sleep, baby. You need your rest.”

“You should sleep some time yourself.” she said, and her voice sounded strong in the darkness.

“I have to make a house call - it’s really very urgent. Remember to take your medication, Shi; i‘ll be back by morning.” he replied, heading for the door, and even in the darkness, he could feel her eyes on him, and for some reason he felt like he was being studied.

“Goodnight, Dad.”

He went in silence to the cellar, like a man walking the gallows, and he paused only for a moment to watch the slowly turning holograph of his long-deceased wife, and he had to hold down the anxiety that was pressing him to apologize profusely to the image of her for doing what he was about to do.

For doing what he had done so many times before.

He rounded on the file sitting on his desk the way that a predator would eye a distant but potential prey - Nathan Wallace didn’t want to go near the cellophane wrapped folder, didn’t want to touch it or look at it or know whose name was inside, because there was always the risk he might know them, or that they could be a father of two or a mother of one, or a lonely old man, or someone who had never done anything wrong.

Monster. Killer. Murderer. Assassin.

Kill.

But another part of him, some hideous beast deep inside him was causing his stomach to twist with eagerness, urging him towards it, and before he even acknowledged that he was doing it, he had opened the folder.

Lower jaw.

Mackenzie Marlow should have paid for his new part.

Nathan couldn’t remember going through the ritual, but he had put on his butcher’s jacket and gloves, his body encased in the familiar, slick dark vinyl, and his mask was held between his hands at the level of his face, the eye visor facing him like he was staring at someone else inside of it. Not him.

He removed his glasses and took in a breath as though it was his last one and put the mask on, and suddenly Nathan Wallace was gone, and the Repo Man was walking the filthy streets, moving down twisting back alleys, through graveyards and past mausoleums, over rooftops and under tunnels that few even knew about. He deftly avoided eyes, but the few who glimpsed him would pretend they hadn’t, or simply wouldn’t believe their eyes - some were sure there was no such thing as the Repo Man. He was just a horror story told to children.

Others knew he was real.

Apparently Mackenzie Marlow was one of them; that night, the thirty-something stepped out of his little suburban home and onto the sidewalk - pausing for a moment to light a cigarette, cupping his hand over the flame to keep the wind away - and he glanced up once it was lit, staring into the pool of light beneath the street lamp where a tall, dark figure was suddenly standing. And, unlike so many others, Marlow didn’t pause and squint, or cock his head to the side in confusion - no, there was only an instant, only a second where he froze like an animal caught in headlights, and then he was running as hard as he could in the other direction.

And who could blame him?

Marlow was lean and fast, and he was one of the rare ones to stay ahead of the Repo Man - but his smoking habit had decreased his lung capacity, and after a block he made the fatal error of slowing down, but it didn’t matter, either way he would have been caught. They never got far, and Marlow had run into a dead end, heaving for breath.

He tried to fight back, taking several swings at his attacker, but each try was deftly avoided, and then a hand took hold of his throat like a vice, and Marlow tried to pull the fingers from his neck, but they had clamped down so hard that even both of his hands couldn’t tug the Repo Man’s fingers away. He was hurled to the ground, and he hit the cement hard enough that sparks appeared in his vision; the Repo Man leaned down and took a hold of his neck once more, actually dragging him by his throat with only one hand, pulling him further down the alleyway, yanking his kicking legs out of the view of anyone who was just idly passing.

“I’ll pay!” Marlow croaked out, and then the hand released him again and his head hit the pavement for a second time, stunning him, but the desperation overrode the pain, “I’ll pay! I will! I just need more time!”

The Repo Man reached into his jacket, and extracted an enormous, serrated knife that glittered under the dim lights, clutched in the vinyl-clothed hand and shimmering with a terrible promise; he straddled Marlow’s chest, pinning his arms down with his knees. Overcome with fear, Marlow let out a shriek of terror before the Repo Man struck him across the face with the flat of the blade and then stuffed his hand into his victim’s mouth, gripping his bottom jaw and forcing it open, wrenching hard until it cracked and the jaw became loose.

And then he really got to work, sawing the blade into flesh and muscle and tendon while the screams grew in pitch and then cracked and turned into weak, heaving sobs, the blood running in thick rivulets onto the filthy cement.

Thick heavy screams in the air, something one never wants to become immune to.

Though when you once worked in a hospital, where everyone's organs seemed to be failing one after the other, the staff dwindling as the patients rising.. the screams of desperate husbands, wives, children of all ages filling the air. Over and over again asking how it could happen to them, what was going on. It was a terrifying experience... though to join them, to be one who needed one of the many emergency organ transplants. That was worse than anything, a surgeon on the table, wondering if he would wake up again.

A heart transplant, one of the last few before a desperate look for donaters.

Then Genco rose from the ashes of the medical profession.

Things didn't get any better. Yes people were surviving, but with the decline in jobs, they all started becoming behind on their payments. Before anyone could really react or realize the danger, the new bill was passed.

Various reactions were found amongst the doctors, surgeons, and nurses. Some decided to turn a blind eye and continue their jobs. Others had quit in a fit of anger against Genco for putting a price on life. Benjamin Morse was one of the many to quit, to go with what stuck with their morals.. instead of what lined their pockets. It was a decision he would later find difficult to live with, the longing for a steady paycheck occasionally tugging at him and making him wish he would've just taken the easier road. But he knew that the easier road would've lead to his morals being completely sacrificed, something he couldn't really handle in the long run. So, he had slowly learned to love his life in his shitty apartment.

However, not all was completely well. As he realized that he still had to may payments on that heart... he also noticed the price had gone up by an alarming amount when he quit working at that hospital. Sure he had money in savings, but it wasn't enough to pay this all off at once. He also found that there was no where for him to work. Making a few doctors visits every few months wasn't enough to make up for all the money that he still needed to raise. Benjamin knew he would have to do something drastic, which was learn exactly how to escape the horrible fate of the Repo man, to find some way to outsmart him.

He had been following the night surgeon for months now, just watching him take victims and learning his patterns. He also had gone so far as to harvest any healthy organs left over. He had his own kit just as the murderer did. Though his consisted of gloves, and some tools in the coat of his pocket. That and a cooler he would carry when possible. Hell, he even managed to find an old storage room that was abandoned long ago to use for his own surgeries. His initial attempts were all failures, something that was extremely disheartening. Not only that, but he was estimating how many more payments he could make before putting what he learned to the test. It made him sick thinking about it.

However, there was a change in luck... his surgeries were working, it just all depended on the freshness of the organ, and how much time his patients survived.

Now was a night though, that he had to face the loss of a friend who he helped as much as he could. He needed to help him find a way out. After all, Marlow had helped him so much at finding new approaches. Also, Marlow had helped him get his hands on Zydrate, the one drug that keep his procedures quiet and as painless as possible. Without Marlow, he would've lost that connection, and he would've lost hope. What he had seen though, what he had seen brought a mixture of anger and disgust. The rough butchering of someone he held so dear. It made him react, it made him actually attack this man he had worked so hard on studying.

His own tousled thickly curled dark locks had gotten into his face as he dashed forward, acting before his mind could even grasp what was going on. With a loud yell, he had managed to force the man onto his side, knocking off the one thing shielding this monster's face in the process. A man who once was too lithe for his own good had decent enough strength now, to slap away the one knife he could see. One was surprised when they discovered what strength they obtained from witnessing something so horrible. "You fucker." He growled, tossing a punch right at the man's head, not seeming to notice that familiar face. His own dark eyes fixed into a look of hatred. "You're going to fucking regret this." His knee felt wet suddenly, a sick disgusting squishing sound invading his ears.

When he finally figured out who he was assaulting though, his eyes went wide.

"N...Nathan?"

Words sliding out of his mouth, his own angled pale face turned to look for a way to escape, only to see his friend upon the ground in the process, his mangled figure a horrific sight. His senses were starting to come back and he realized he was attacking someone who could gut him like a fish with absolutely no problem.

This was a terrible idea.

Nathan Wallace hated his job; he hated what he did, what he had to do.

To keep his daughter safe from the world, he had to become everyone else's nightmare, and most of the time he had to kill them to do the job - other times, they could survive the loss of the body part that had the debt attached, but usually they died from the shock anyways. Sometimes, he might have cut them a little more than he had to - he couldn't really remember, but some days it annoyed him when they struggled too much. He had bad days like everyone else, after all.

In fact, he wasn't sure any of them had ever lived.

He had so much blood on his hands.

But as the thing beneath him gurgled it's pain, and the lower jaw came away in one neat piece and left a tongue lolling out below a ruined face, Nathan Wallace was out to lunch; the good doctor was being protected from the violence, his mind shielding him from his own actions while the Repo Man took the reins, directing the knife with exacting precision. Beneath them, blood had spread in a thick pool that seemed to be endlessly streaming from Marlow's face, leaking down his neck and over his shoulders, collecting in the cracks of the cement and streaking the Repo Man's gloves and jacket, flecks of crimson on an expanse of shining black.

Good thing it was vinyl; he would never get the stains out of anything absorbent.

A glance at the chunk of human in his hand told him it was bits of silicon and metal and bone that had been formed into a lower jaw, and he peeled away some of the tissue and muscle that still hung on it, and he could see the small Gene Co product stamp in the metal. He dropped it into a plastic bag - no real rush on this one - and then glanced down when he felt Marlow begin to spasm and seize, the man's eyes rolling back into his head and he let out a single croak.

He didn't last long at all.

And, straddling Marlow's chest, looking down at the dead man with his masked head cocked to the side, spattered in blood, the Repo Man was the very picture of a nightmare, and the only thing that made him recognizable as a human was the visor backlit by blue, revealing the last pair of eyes his victims would ever look into. It was just as he began to rise, however, that he felt a force at his right, and he was shoved over, the knife clattering away - he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings, how reckless of him.

It wasn't until a fist struck him across the cheekbone and he hit the pavement for a second time - palms planted against the cement - that he realized his mask was gone, and it was just the cool night air and the sweat on his face, and without the mask, some part of him was able to recognize the man who had struck him.

Benjamin, a former GeneCo employee back before the Health Industry Repossession Bill had been passed; had always brought the organs around to the surgery ward, and he had quit when the company had begun recalling organs for non-payment.

But another part of him, the one that had been taking over for the last hour, just didn't care who was in front of him, or why they were there - there was no visible recognition; the Repo Man reared up, his eyes glittering in the single, dim light that hung at the side of the alley, and his expression wasn't so much a smile as it was a baring of teeth. He stepped over Marlow's body as it went through it's final death rattle, and something terrible crunched and squished beneath his boot before he swung a fist at Benjamin's stomach that would have the impact of a battering ram.

Benjamin was somewhat lucky in the regard of being able to stumble back enough where the hit merely made him feel like he needed to vomit. It wasn't exactly the best of feelings, but it was a lot easier to run away when you just felt like you were going to puke, versus going to die. Getting up somewhat quickly and clutching his stomach a little, his fight or flight responses were going absolutely insane. He could stay here and try to avenge the death of his friend, or he could run for his life. After all, he had other people who would need him to help them get organs. This was all too difficult to decide in such a short period of time. "Oh fuck me." He groaned, watching the scalpel shine upon the ground, the moon light bouncing off of it. Well, he had settled upon a decision finally, at least.

Which was to run like hell, and hope he wasn't caught. He knew that this was Nathan, someone he knew in passing. It was obvious Nathan didn't care if he was someone he knew in the past, he was too possessed by this sick job to stop this chase. So, he ducked into every alleyway he knew, his heart racing in his chest.... his GeneCo heart. It made him sick when that thought ran through his mind. He had sent his payment in, but who said that they might not just take it in advanced? After all, he was the one who attacked their... agent. Oh, this wasn't a good train of thought at all.

Nearly tripping at some point, he had stopped temporarily by a dumpster. Leaning forward a bit, he managed to throw up somewhat quickly. Though the acidic feel in his throat absolutely burned against the cool air when he resumed his running, he knew he wasn't going to stop for the devil himself. Sure this was how everyone else tried to escape, but he wasn't going to be one of the caught and killed, he couldn't let that happened! That wasn't going to happen to him, he wasn't going to have his stomach ripped open, his jaw torn off like his friend. This couldn't happen to him!

He was trying to remember what hiding places he had, what safe havens he had made for himself. There were so many places to hide in this horrible town that was run down. Hope seemed lost as he looked over his shoulder to still see Nathan. However, he had managed to make his way into an apartment building that was long abandoned. The soft patter of his steps were heard as he ran about, though it was growing more and more distant to Nathan. Soon he had managed to get to the window down the hall. Opening it, the former surgeon crawled out, making his way cautiously to the fire escape with the ridges in the wall. Using that as his mode of escape, he had disappeared out of sight. He had vanished behind a dumpster, pressing himself tightly against the brick wall, waiting for Nathan to pass by, possibly not even see him go this way. He was trying to catch his breath so he wouldn't be heard, anything to keep himself alive.

It was on nights like this that he sometimes had to resist the bizarre urge to howl; the moon was hanging full and orange overhead, the night air was filled with the scent of blood, his pulse was racing with adrenaline and in front of him, Benjamin was frozen with indecision, stunned by what was happening, angered and scared all at once, and the Repo Man could see it in his face.

For an instant, they watched eachother, eyes connecting; predator and prey.

Fight or flight, Ben?

Either was fine with him - he had all night.

Ben took off like a shot; there was no real aim or direction to it, he was just running to get away, spurred by adrenaline of his own, desperate to escape - and who could blame him after what he'd just witnessed? Marlow's death had been a painful and unpleasant one, made more poignant by the fact Ben knew the man - and that the Repo Man was presently holding the deceased's lower jaw in his hand, wrapped for delivery.

The Repo Man was close on Ben's heels for the majority of the chase, and at some point the mask had been put back in place, and as they ran through twisting back alleys and down sidewalks, the few who were outside would find places to duck into, some of them realizing exactly what they were seeing and knowing that they wanted no part of it. For an instant, he nearly lost track of Ben, but it was the smell and sight of vomit on the pavement that took him in the right direction once more; the chase continued up into a towering apartment complex, dark and uninhabited, dust kicking up with every footstep they took until the air was thick with it, like a dirty fog that almost completely obscured his vision.

And at some point, the visor became impossible to see through, and he had to tear the mask off his face, staring hard into the darkness, breathing in the filthy air until he could feel it clinging to the sweat on his skin - moments ago, there were prints to follow like footsteps in the snow, a trail he could have used to his advantage, but the swirling dust had swept them away, and he was left standing alone in the dark.

He had lost him.

Suddenly it hit him how exhausted he was, and he staggered back against a wall, leaning his head against it, letting his eyes drift shut, and in his mind's eye, he saw his patient.

Benjamin. He could find him; GeneCo had records, and Nathan Wallace had the memory that would give the Repo Man the upper hand, he could find Benjamin, find out his last name, what he did for a living - how many eyelashes he had. He could know everything there was to know about him by the next day, and then the game would end, he could take care of this -

- problem.

After all, there wasn't really a rulebook about this and he couldn't risk Nathan's identity, could he? He would just have to get rid of Benjamin, erase him. It would be simple, he had done it so many times before, just this time there would be no repossession form to follow, no particular organ to return, no requirement to leave anything in one piece - he could just tear him up and be done with it.

It sounded like an interesting idea, one he wouldn't mind trying. In fact, he was sure Ben would still be in the area, probably hiding nearby, waiting for him to leave, hoping to get away from him that night, hoping to be spared - he could wait around for a while, maybe he would come out, thinking he was safe -

- but then the darkness drained away, and suddenly all he could think about was Shilo.

What was he doing, standing in some filthy building while Shilo was at home alone? His precious little girl, all by herself, and he'd already done his job hadn't he? He had Marlow's jaw, it was all that Rotti had demanded this time around, there was no need for anything else. He was done.

Go home. Go home to Shilo. She needs you.

Like a man possessed, he single-mindedly dragged himself from the apartment complex and back home, suddenly so weary that he could barely lift his feet on the final few steps in the door. He took himself to the basement, stripped out of his uniform and hung it on the line, spraying it down with hot water from the hose, staring at the slowly drifting puddle of dirt and blood, and he shifted his feet to get away from it, watching it swirl down into the drain on the floor. He considered this for a moment, and then noiselessly turned the hose on himself, standing under the spray like a kicked animal, eyes downcast as all the dirt and sweat washed from him and the water soaked into and through his clothes.

When he was done, he stripped and changed, cleaned up any mess he'd left behind, put his knives away and went up the stairs. He stared into Shiloh's room; he had left only a few hours ago, and she had gone back to sleep, wrapped in her blankets and safe from everything beyond the house - she wasn't in danger here.

A surge of warmth and relief hit him the way it did every time he checked on her; she was safe.

His shoulders relaxed visibly, and he quietly shut the door behind him, went down the hall, and collapsed face down onto his own bed, and didn't move for hours.

Benjamin felt as though he was going to die right then and there, his throat burning and his mind gradually slowing down to realize what happened. Sighing a bit, he had finally moved out of behind the dumpster, catching his breath, watching the moon. It had been a strange night, he had keeled in his own friend's blood, ran from the Repo Man, and managed to vomit in an alleyway. As accomplished as he should've felt for surviving, this wasn't the case. After all, he knew there would be a second chase, it was just a matter of when. That wasn't something he liked held over his own head, the chance of when he was going to be gutted limb from limb and forced to suffer a terrible death. Regardless of such looming threats, he wandered off, going back home to his shitty apartment to get cleaned up.

He felt as though he was in a daze, his legs hardly felt as though they were touching the ground. This would've been a terribly fascinating experience if he hadn't had a great loss from it. "This.. this is just fucked up." He mumbled, wiping some of the sweat from his face, realizing how tired he was from all of that running. Sure he wasn't overweight or anything, but being lithe didn't equate being incredibly fit. "Oh.. oh fuck." He just groaned once more, as if hearing his own voice would be of enough comfort. It would mean he could still speak... unlike Marlow....

The image that flashed through his mind of his dear friend so terribly mangled had made him so angry. He wanted nothing more than to end the repo man, to stop him from killing everyone who just wanted to live. Who cared if Rotti didn't get his pay? The man was rich anyways, he didn't need to kill mothers, fathers, friends, and family off just because he didn't get more money. Such thoughts as these were what kept Ben up at night, what made him think about why he had to perfect his own surgeries. If only he could just get rid of that terrible thing Nathan had become. Maybe even use his organs to keep people alive, just to make some wrong, right.

When he had finally gotten into his apartment, he took a shower which consisted of staring at the grungy tiles thoughtlessly for a long period of time. Then, eventually getting cleaned off and crawling in bed. His mind was heavy with worry, but he couldn't let himself become sleep deprived because of this horrible event. He would have a surgery tomorrow, a woman of some sort... he could hardly remember. All he knew was that the organs were ready, and she just needed to be in the storage room by the time he designated. Eventually drifting off to sleep, he had a dreamless night, his favorite kind.

By the time he had woken up, he knew he had a couple hours left to get ready. So, he had gathered his things up and set them near the door. Most of his tools were at his place of work that he found. After that, he wandered off to the kitchen, eating anything he really needed, and got dressed in something more official. It was an old medical coat he had, the only one without the GeneCo label on it. A shirt, and the only clean pair of slacks he could find. His hair was pulled up as well, so as not to get in the way. Before he knew it, enough time had passed for him to finally go to his appointment.

When arriving, he could see the small blond woman, her features rather frail. She was only in her twenties, and she happened to be suffering from the same problem he had. She needed a new heart. He was always worried before procedures, for he had to go down the general list of warnings. Along with the fact that this surgery could kill her. But she simply whispered she had no problem with that, after all, she couldn't pay GeneCo.

Unfortunately, the surgery went unsuccessful. She died on the operating table. Benjamin, with his hands in her blood, could do nothing but sob over his failure. The mourning of his friend also finally breaking him down to emotion. This was a horrible night.

Eyes; big, brown eyes surrounded by long lashes and filled with a worry and horror that should never have played across those features. A soft voice spoke in his ear, her hand caressed his face, and he could smell the rose shampoo she always used in her unruly, curly hair,

Nathan.

What have you become?

Why are you doing this?

Something jabbed him hard in the side, and Nathan's head snapped up from where it had been planted into the comforter, his face lined from the upraised pattern, his eyes bleary from exhaustion, his voice cracking from sleep,

"Marni?" he rasped, trying to push himself up, but his head spun and he had to shut his eyes again, realizing what he was saying. There was another jab in his side, this one harder than the last, and he turned his head to the side then, opening his eyes once more and locating the source - there were big brown eyes looking at him, but they weren't Marni's.

"Dad?"

"Shilo? What are you doing up?" Nathan asked.

"What are you doing down?"

"What?"

"It's ten in the afternoon, dad."

"What?" Nathan repeated, sitting up and instantly regretting it as his head spun and the world tilted sideways, his body commanding that he go back to sleep, that he close his eyes and sleep away the rest of the day, because goddamn it, he was getting too old for this shit.

"I thought you were out, but I heard you -" Shilo said, and she looked at him sideways for a moment, her mouth drawn into a thin line, an expression that looked too old for her, "- you were screaming."

"No, you must have heard something else," Nathan replied, shaking his head and groping for his glasses, putting them on and they sat lopsidedly on his face, and he looked at his daughter with his hair sticking out in bizarre angles, having dried as he slept and giving him the appearance of having been electrocuted.

"I heard you, dad, you were screaming."

"Have you eaten, Shi?" he asked, slowly crawling his way off the bed, which suddenly seemed too big and and too high as he tried to get his equilibrium back, "Did you -"

"I took my medication already." she said, "Are you okay?"

"I'm just fine sweetheart," Nathan said groggily, nearly toppling off the mattress before finally getting to his feet, "I feel fantastic. Just had a long night, that's all."

"Okay, well, someone called."

Nathan's head snapped towards her,

"Who?" he asked sharply, "Did you answer it?"

"No, I know better, dad. They left a message though, said something about a package to be delivered, is all. Are you sure everything is okay -"

"It's fine." he said, and then eased his tone, putting his hand against the side of Shilo's face and kissing her forehead, "It's fine, baby. I have to go, but I'll be back soon. We'll have a late lunch together okay?"

Shilo hesitated, then nodded, and Nathan left her standing at the landing while he dissappeared into the basement, angrily snatching up the package from the freezer. When he arrived at GeneCo, he opened Rotti's office with his boot, his expression twisted into one of rage as he hurled the jaw onto the desk in front of his boss,

"You called my house." he snarled, and Rotti gave him a small smile.

"Just a reminder, Nathan." he replied pleasantly, "Wouldn't want you forgetting to complete your job."

"I always do - my daughter was awake, goddamn it, she might have -"

"What, figured out what daddy does in his free time?" Rotti said nastily, leaning back and lacing his fingers over his big stomach, raising his eyebrows at Nathan, who silently dropped his eyes to the ground; with that done, Rotti continued on in a conversational tone, "Did this one give you any trouble?"

"No." Nathan replied, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Good. Here's your next one." Rotti said, tossing a file towards Nathan, who stared at it with wide eyes.

"Already? This is four in four days -"

"It's been a busy few months, and you're going to do your job, or I can leave a slightly longer message next time."

Nathan froze, and his eyes flashed for an instant, teeth bared - and then he gained motion again, taking the file and looking it over, his expression normal again.

"Fine." he said as he headed for the door, "I'll have it soon."

"And i'll have another patient for you soon," Rotti replied promptly, and Nathan only paused for a second in the doorway, shoulders hunched, before continuing on. For a long time after, Rotti stared at the empty door, and then pulled a handkerchief out of his desk and mopped his suddenly damp brow, his bodyguards watching him carefully, always at the ready for anything.

It was good to be king.

And Nathan, he walked out of Geneco gripping the file but not looking at it again - he didn't want to know who it was right then. He didn't want to think about it, he just wanted to have lunch with his daughter.

Benjamin had sat there for a long while, inspecting the body of that innocent woman. She could've just tried to pay the money, at least she would've had a chance. He wished he could do his job better than this... but with limited resources and now the loss of a friend, he found himself to be utterly useless. Sighing a bit, he had started to work on a more gruesome task. He was going to remove any organs he deemed salvageable, and then try to keep them fresh in storage. After that, he'd just dispose of the body in a nearby dumpster, clean up the blood, and try once more with a new patient. He couldn't let them know about his failures, it would make them panic, it would steal their last bit of hope they had. Blatantly lying to these innocent people made him ill, but he couldn't help it, it was the only way they could be helped at all. They had a fighting chance if they were given some form of hope.

The man just wished he wasn't the one who knew that the chances for failure were extremely high, that's what made it even more painful. Their hopeful smiles, thank yous, soft prayers, it made him feel like some sort of monster. After all, he was the one who had to look into their dead eyes.

Starting to extract organs here and there, he gently set them off to the side, trying his best to make sure they didn't get contaminated. "Who knows.. She could've had such a future... even in this goddamn messed up place, she could've had some kind of future." His emotions were merely restricted to words, as he knew throwing a fit would just waste time, it would also put those organs in jeopardy. When finished, he had pulled over a few coolers by kicking them over. Taking off one glove he opened them, and inserted the various innards.

It took around a couple hours before he was finished getting rid of her, and then afterward he had checked his supply of Zydrate... It wasn't good, only a few little glass vials left. Sighing heavily, he had tottered on home, getting cleaned up one last time for this day. Casual wear was now his choice, something a little less obvious than Doctor's clothing. Then he wandered to the alleyways. He really wished Marlow had told him how to get that drug, the right places. So far, all he could see were shady men and various hookers clinging around. He really hoped none of his patients had seen him like this, assuming he was just some sort of low life.

Years of doing the job had given the Graverobber a sixth sense; even in the beginning he had been quick to learn that his customers were carved from a desperate set, they were the type who would go to any length to get their fix, just as he was the type to go to any length to find it for them. He knew what was profitable, and he knew how to elude the authorities - he had done it for so long that he may have admittedly gotten a little cocky about it, but he had yet to pay for it.

After all, they had never caught him, even after all the times he had crawled through the graveyards, ripping open tombs and going through mass graves, extracting the raw Zydrate from the dead bodies he scavenged from the dirt, regardless of their state of decomposition - he had never been caught. Either the security was lax, or he was just incredibly luck - and the Graverobber bet on the latter option, given how many others had been caught, he'd seen the bodies.

Taken the Zydrate from some of them, in fact.

But all those years had served him, because as he lingered in his favourite alleyway that night, lounging in a particularly cushy dumpster with his legs dangling over the side, he found himself observing passersby - not many caught his attention, people in general were boring, just wanting to go on with their lives and look good doing it - but this one, oh yes, this one was looking for something.

The Graverobber sat up, gripping the edge of the dumpster and levelling his upper body, balancing on the lip of the container with his thighs, wiggling his toes as he watched Benjamin shuffle his way down the alley. Yes, Graverobber could see it in his expression, the shifting eyes and the hunched shoulders, there was a desperation but not a hunger - he was looking for something, but not for himself.

He was suddenly on his feet, and one arm had slipped around Ben's thin shoulders, pulling him in tight to his side, and Graverobber offered Ben a wholly unsettling smile that was surrounded by lips that had been painted black,

"Not lost, are we?" he asked, cocking his head to the side to get a view of Ben's face, his eyebrows climbing high, and he waved one pale hand in front of the other man, "Looking for someone -?"

He pulled away then, spinning himself around in front of Ben, his long jacket whirling out behind him, his arms spread wide, and suddenly two barely-dressed women had appeared at either arm, and he half-leaned on them, giving Ben that same cock-eyed grin, and like magic, he was holding up a small, glowing blue vial between his thumb and forefinger, stroking it against the cheek of one of the prostitutes at his side,

"- or something?"

Benjamin had jumped in surprise as he was suddenly molested by this figure who appeared before him so quickly. "W..what?" Before he had time to figure out exactly what was going on, that precious blue drug was in front of him. He didn't care who he had to deal with, he just needed to get it and go. "What can I do to get this drug from you as cheap as I can? I need a large quantity of Zydrate.. Not for me, for my business." He knew his money would be dwindling quickly if he had to buy it all himself. Somehow Marlow was able to get it for a reasonable cost, but he never asked how... something he was obviously regretting.

"Marlow, as you probably figured, is dead. He used to get it for me-I mean, my patients. Look, I just want this to be a quick ordeal. I don't want to stay here long." Yes, he looked so terribly uneasy amongst whores and this Graverobber. His job wasn't to get involved in some sort of violence on the street, it was just to get the drug and then to help anyone who needed it. That was what he cared about more than anything, helping people. Zydrate was a drug he would never want to use recreationally, though, for he had seen the consequences of it. It wasn't as though he wanted to become addicted to the substance and do anything for it.

Brushing a few curls out of his face, he wanted to keep a safe enough distance from this man. He didn't trust being close to the Graverobber, for he had cash on him, and the other could've had a knife. Sure Ben had his own ways of defense, but it wasn't as though he was as swift as this slippery fellow. He figured this Graverobber would win any attempted knife fight, and so he just tried to play it safe for now.

It wasn't as if he would show the guy how much money he had either, it would be stupid to reveal how much money he could spend in this evening. At least he knew these basic principles about dealing with this man. Hopefully his understanding would be able to earn him something more than just spending all of his money.

(Shit post, grr))

Graverobber, as many had learned, was more of a lover than a fighter - his job was morbid and gruesome, he would admit that, but he had never killed anyone before, he just dealt with them when they were already dead. They were so much easier to work with that way, and besides that, between the massive organ failures and the Repo Men, the city had such a massive death toll that Graverobber was never out of work. It was always easy to find sources of Zydrate, and all he had to do was comb through a few graves for a decent amount of it - and really, death never went out of style, so his supply was endless.

But so few had the stomach to do what he did, or the nerves to deal with the constant patrolling around tombs, or the cahones to actually deal the Zydrate, but Graverobber had built a protective wall around himself with his customer base, people who needed him - who would always need him - to give them their fix. After all, GeneCo's product was too expensive, and in comparison to the raw form that Graverobber sold, it was also weak, diluted and cut back and synthesized to increase the company's profits.

Graverobber liked to think he was doing a service; he was giving a chance to the impoverished and helpless, taking from the dead and giving to the needy, yanking a few dollar bills from the clutching hands of GeneCo and Rotti - and no one could protest that, save for Rotti himself, and perhaps his offspring.

Though, even his own daughter, Amber Sweet - she'd discovered the street Zydrate was so much better, and that he gave her a way of accessing it without her father being able to stop or control her.

Graverobber didn't look surprised at the mention of Marlow - he'd known the guy was behind on his payments, and it would only be a matter of time before the Repo Man caught up with him - he knew everything that happened in the city, and had even seen Marlow's corpse. He must have arrived in that dank alleyway just a little while after the Repo Man had been there, because the body was still warm when he extracted the Zydrate from him; Graverobber decided it wouldn't be in his best interest to tell Benjamin precisely where the vial in his hand had come from.

"You're a doctor," Graverobber said, running his eyes over Benjamin for a moment, and his eyes lit up suddenly, "But not for GeneCo - what's this, freelance surgery?"

Chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes shifted to the girls at his sides, and then he looked back at Benjamin, speaking in a conspiratorial tone,

"Where do the casualties go? Let me in on that, and I think we can make a deal."

Benjamin replied quickly, "I don't do cosmetic surgery, I only do organ transplants and ones that are absolutely necessary. I do them for a low price, for people who can't afford to keep up with GeneCo's payments." Running a hand through his hair, he added, "They need better options than what GeneCo gives them, I'm trying to take away Rotti's business. I know I'm just one surgeon, but it's better than no one doing it at all." Unfortunately, the doctor knew that no matter how good he became at this, even if he was talented enough to have a success on every surgery... he still couldn't do anything about the heart beating in his chest, it was a constant reminder that he owed his life to the crooked company. Such things always made him a bit nauseous to think about, but he would have to accept it sooner or later.

"They go in a dumpster near where I do my procedures. It's a couple blocks down, it's the dark red one." If knowing where the bodies went was enough to get Zydrate at any sort of reduced price, Benjamin really didn't mind. After all, it's not like those bodies had any more use after he had taken the needed organs out of them. "What kind of deal did you have in mind? I'm willing to make any kind right now, things are getting financially tight here." As they were for everyone else. It seemed as though there was hardly a middle ground for wealth, you either had nothing, or everything.

Perhaps this man wasn't as bad as Benjamin assumed he would be. Yes, he was shady about everything, but it wasn't too terribly suspicious or frightening. This man also hadn't threatened to slit his throat either, another plus. Sure he didn't like being this close to hookers, but at least this exchange of words would probably be a short one. "I have my own debts to pay, so anything is a good deal to me." He added, shifting his weight to the other foot somewhat nervously.

Graverobber's dark eyes were pinned on Ben the entire time, watching him through the shadows, his head cocked to the side as he listened; so there was a supply of bodies following this skinny doctor, understandable if he was doing the surgeries by himself in the back of some old building within the city. If he was looking for street Zydrate, then his budget was tight, his supplies were low, and he was desperate.

But the Graverobber liked a guy who would stick it to GeneCo - it meant he had to be a little crazy, just the sort that he got along with. He didn't bother to ask Ben any more questions about it, he never looked a gift horse in the mouth, particularly when the gift horse meant increasing his supply without the need to go into graveyards for it. As much as Graverobber liked his odds and liked to tease the authorities, it was nice to have leisurely scavenging nights.

"So a philanthropist then," he said, and he pulled the girl on his left a little closer, kissing her on the forehead before shoving her away, walking up to Ben again, tugging a little on his shirt as though to straighten it, offering another of his twisted little smiles, "I think I can go a quarter off the price for you, it's better than I gave Marlow, but he didn't have such a compelling deal,"

He reached up and grabbed Ben's chin, and shook his head from side to side,

"Or such a pretty little face," he said, talking in the tone one might use on a three year old, and he released Ben, giving him a light pat on the cheek, turning his back to him and holding up two bottles of Zydrate for Ben to take, his other hand up to accept the money, "Quarter off the price tonight, and again in the future if those bodies are there, come back tomorrow, late, and I'll have more vials for you, you caught me on a busy night."

Benjamin carefully watched the other male, wondering what was going on in his head. He was really hoping whatever deal they would work out, it would mean that he wouldn’t have to spend much time here. He hated the atmosphere, the desperation thick in the air. He could see the various women of loose morals watching them. It made him nervous, he wondered if he was just as bad as them, pandering for that drug. But, he had a good reason, that should be enough to redeem him. After all, it wasn’t as if anyone else was doing any better than him. He just hoped his reason would be enough for this dealer.

“I suppose.” He muttered. Benjamin didn’t look at his work as philanthropy, considering he had a body count. The doctor considered himself a murder with some form of morals and with a decent head on his shoulders… unlike what he had seen Nathan become. The thought still made him terribly ill, knowing someone he worked with was a widely feared monster. He wondered if Marni knew.

Yes, from all those years, Benjamin had fallen so out of sync with the rest of the world, that he didn’t know of the woman’s demise. He wasn’t that close to Nathan anyways, he just overheard the news of the marriage.

He caught the last of what Graverobber was saying when his face was suddenly grabbed. His instant reaction was to attempt to move away quickly, assuming the sudden touch would entail that pain would be following. With relief, he just felt a pat upon his cheek and tried to pretend he didn’t hear a thing that was said, except for the information about the Zydrate. “Yeah, thanks.” Reaching in his pocket for the money, he handed it over quickly and took the strongly addictive painkiller, quickly walking off. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night, then.” Ben spoke, disappearing off into the night. He was ignoring the glares at his back, the various looks of interest. He really hoped some of these ‘ladies of the night’ wouldn’t think he was some kind of cosmetic surgeon and follow him back.

Shilo never ate much; it was rare for her to have an appetite at all, so Nathan had to monitor her eating habits the way he monitored every other aspect of her life, and he made sure that her meals were balanced and provided her with everything that her body would need to keep itself healthy, along with a handful of supplements on a daily basis.

That late afternoon, they sat together at the table and even after seventeen years of it just being the two of them, the room still seemed too big, the table seemed too long, and Shilo looked so terribly small. Even after so long, just the two of them seemed so lonely, though Shilo didn't know any different - for her, it had only ever been the two of them, the concept of other people being around was foreign to her, and Nathan never brought anyone else into the house for fear of the questions it would raise.

Shilo chewed half-heartedly on a carrot, and then spat out a bit of it in a manner so unladylike that it made Nathan smile. He picked at his own food with his fork, moving it around on the plate the same finicky way she did - Marni had always playfully scolded him for it, told him he was worse than a kid - but he didn't actually eat much of it. He wasn't hungry, he couldn't think about food because some horrible part of his mind kept pulling him back to the previous night in the alleyway, back to Benjamin.

Something about it bothered him; he couldn't pinpoint why.

"Dad?"

Nathan looked up from his plate,

"Why don't you ever bring anyone home?" she asked, staring down at her food.

"Why would I need to bring anyone home - I've got you here." he said, and Shilo rolled her eyes - something she had done to him a few times recently, and he was still getting used to it, "Anyways, who would I bring home?"

"I don't know; friends?" Shilo said, and prodded unenthusiastically at a bit of broccoli, and then her eyes shifted up and looked directly at him, "Or a woman?"

Nathan's fork unintentionally slipped from his hand and clattered onto the table; it echoed through the huge house, and he gaped at Shilo for a long time before he could muster up the words,

"Shi, I -" Nathan struggled, and then finally spat it out, "- I don't have the time."

"You spend too much time working anyways." Shilo replied, "Maybe you should take some time off - meet someone -"

Nathan felt his stomach twist; this was strange - Shilo had never said anything like this before, she'd never been this confrontational.

"Your mother -" Nathan began, but Shiloh was suddenly on her feet, and her chair was on the ground, and she was shouting and bashing her hand onto the table so hard that he winced.

"Is dead!" Shilo shouted, and she gripped her hair so hard that he thought she was going to tear the wig in half, and her voice hit a pitch that Nathan wasn't sure he'd ever heard before,

"Shilo -"

"She's dead! She's been dead for seventeen years, she's dead but that doesn't mean you need to be! All you do is work! You keep talking about her like you think it's going to bring her back! She's dead!"

Her lips no longer had colour in them, and Nathan found himself on his feet, scarcely aware of rising.

Blood pressure alert.

"Shi - did you take your medication?" Nathan asked, and he watched as Shilo's eyes rolled back into her head, and he barely got around the table in time to catch her. He lifted her small, limp frame up into his arms and headed up the stairs in silence, holding her head to his chest for a long moment before lowering her onto her bed and putting her under the covers.

Sitting on the end of her bed, he waited with his face buried in his palms, and he tried to ignore the ugly, familiar sensation creeping up his spine, the one that was telling him to go look at the cellophane-wrapped file that was sitting in the basement, just waiting for him.

Killer. Murderer. Assassin.

And in the silence of the room, all he could manage to say was:

"Oh god."

Because he wanted to go find his next patient.

Monster.

He wanted to kill.

Benjamin quickly rushed back home, taking off his shoes at the door. "I got what I needed.. Tomorrow, hopefully things will be a lot easier than this. After all, the first time's always the worse, than after that it won't be so bad. I'll know what to expect at least." At this point, he was unsure of what to even think about himself. He knew his cause was a good one, but it just felt like it would be one more worry. It was illegal to buy street Zydrate, and knew it was just one more thing he could get caught doing and get shot for. Not exactly his goal when he was trying to help everyone out.

However, as he walked over to the table, he let his mind wander, just thinking about simpler times when he could just be a doctor. When the system wasn't so corrupt, things were so much more pleasant. He had a nice home, comfortable living. A new heart would've just meant a new heart, and people would be able to have more time to pay off their dues to GeneCo. He eventually crawled into the shower, thinking about Marlow, and about the repoman, about when he would finally be the one under the knife. It made him shudder all over, he had actually curled up close to the side of the wall. Washing his hair slowly while letting the water rinse away some of his anxieties. "I'll have to check how much money I have left, how much time." He mumbled.

When he finally finished the shower, he toweled off and got dressed once more. He had started working out his financial situation, trying to calculate how many more payments he could make before he had to learn how to run faster.

It wasn't looking too good.

The night air felt warm and unpleasant, suffocating with the heavy layers of vinyl and leather that covered him; the wind was thick with the smell of garbage, and there was a surrounding dampness that told him the weather would be foul - a glance to the sky confirmed it, there were clouds rolling overhead, dark and grey, obscuring the stars. Shilo would be dissappointed; she liked looking at the stars from her window, but at least the moon was still visible behind the thick pollution - he hoped she would remember to wear her mask when she went out on her balcony.

Maybe he should call her, just remind her.

"No, please! Don't hurt me! I'm only a week behind! I have the money!"

Alan Hearth.

GeneCo property: stomach and esophagus.

The Repo Man tossed an irritated glance at the patient beneath his foot and took a moment to give him a solid kick in the spine - Hearth responded with a groan of pain, and he didn't even have a chance to struggle before his ankle was grabbed and he was dragged along the street by one leg. A series of yowls escaped him as they passed over a layer of broken glass, some of which went through the material of Hearth's clothes and embedded themselves into his back and thighs; shrieks of pain echoed through the shadows, but there was no cavalry to come rescue Hearth, no good samaritan who would muster the courage to throw themselves into the fray this time.

Hearth was dragged towards the back alley of an old abandoned building, and the Repo Man released his patient so he could kick the door open, and in the brief moment he turned away, Hearth turned himself over and tried desperately to scramble onto his feet, slipping in puddles of his own blood during his attempts. The Repo Man's shoulders slumped, and he looked to the sky as though trying to gather patience from it, letting out a sigh before begrudgingly walking after Hearth, grabbing a piece of rotting timbre on his way. He followed Hearth's crawling attempts for a few feet before it got too irritating, and then cracked him soundly over the back of the neck with the wood, once again grabbing his ankle and yanking him back towards the door, yanking him up the ramp and into the building. The inside of the place was dusty and covered in cobwebs, the floor was tiled and caked with residue that indicated it had been a kitchen; he released Hearth in mid-stride, and the thick grease caused the man to slide a few inches before coming to a rest.

"No, god, please," Hearth said, semi-conscious as the Repo Man circled him, and there was a knife in his hand now, reflecting Hearth's face back to him, "Have mercy!"

"Shh-shh," Repo Man replied, bringing a finger up to his mask to signify that Hearth should be very quiet, and then he dropped into a crouch, and leaned in towards him, almost conspiratorially, and then he said: "I want you to shut up."

Hearth stared at him with wide, round eyes, and the Repo Man stared back at him through his visor, and there was a long silence between them, as Hearth slowly realized he was seeing nothing but a horrible, endless darkness in the man's eyes, and then he began to scream again with renewed terror just before the debt doctor got to work.

"This is tricky," Repo Man said conversationally, while Hearth bubbled out blood from the spot where his tongue had been; and he rested his chin on a blood-spattered hand, slowly tapping his knife against the side of his mask while he sat on top of his patient's chest, "Because I can't slit your throat or i'll ruin the esophagus, can't really stab you either, or the stomach might get damaged. Guess I'll just have to cut around."

He did; he made a y-incision and yanked the two bits of flesh apart, and he gripped the man's ribcage on either side, bracing himself against it and cracking it open to get to the chest cavity and cutting his way around to pull out the esophagus and clip out the stomach. Covered in blood and bile, he lifted the organs up to put into a storage bag, and the esophagus made a sucking, belching sound from the remaining liquid and pressure in it that caused the Repo Man to giggle.

And then he rose, immediately lifting his watch to his face, dialing home,

"Shi?"

"Dad?"

"How are you feeling, precious?"

"I'm fine dad, how's your patient?"

"Bad news, I'm afraid he's falling apart over it." Nathan said, and nudged away a bit of Hearth's intestine with the toe of his boot, "Make sure you wear your mask if you go on the balcony Shi, I have to make another stop before I come home - but it won't take long, it's just a follow-up - I love you baby."

When he stepped outside, it was raining, and he stood under the downpour for a long moment to let it wash the gore away from him.

Benjamin had practically dragged himself back to his own bedroom, turning on the small television. He was going to try to get his mind off the current terrible events, trying to find some way to distract himself long enough to consider this time for himself. After all, the man had taken time for everyone else, so why not just focus on what he needed for once? Of course, the focus wouldn't last too long, GeneCo always taking a good percentage of the commercial time. How could one get their mind off of that terrible company when it was constantly shoved into everyone's faces? It wasn't as though anyone didn't know about it, after all, almost everyone Benjamin knew at least had one modification thanks to them.

His mind drifted to Nathan from time to time, trying to remember when they exchanged words, and what kind of man he was. Well, he wasn't the type to go divulging his life to everyone, he always seemed to keep to himself for the most part when it came to personal life. Most of the talk they ever had was business, and it was just quick conversations, for they both had better things to do than force a friendship. Now, of course, Benjamin regretted not sharing a friendship with him, for it might have given him a better chance at survival than what he had now.

"Fucker's gunna kill me." He mumbled to the television, "He's gunna kill me, and he's going to laugh while he does it.. I bet, at least. He's going to stomp on my liver and find it the funniest thing when I shit blood." His body still ached a bit from the assault, he knew it was going to be much worse though, when his time came. It was a bit of a preview to upcoming suffering. "There's not even a place to run and hide, I'm properly fucked no matter what I do." So much for distracting himself. "He works for Rotti, he know everything about everyone. Wouldn't be surprised if they kept a record of transactions, purchases... Maybe I should buy a gun to blow my heart out when the time comes, then Rotti can't have it back."

How much would a gun cost? That would at least set him back a weeks in living. A thought crossed his mind that he didn't care for, and that was to go back to GeneCo. His pride wouldn't let him, even if his mind desperately wanted him to. If he were to give up on his plight and go back to that horrible place, he would have his own life, but not his dignity. He wouldn't let himself have the same fate Nathan did, becoming some sort of sick monster. Curling up next to a pillow, he let himself space out for now, allowing his mind to become numb for once. He would just have to wait and see what happened, what his own fate would be.

There was something soothing about the rain, and Nathan stood beneath the downpour for a long time and in the safety of the alleyway, he pulled off his mask and turned his face upwards; it the only skin that could feel the raindrops, the only part uncovered by the vinyl and leather, and he took a strange amount of pleasure in the simplicity of the rain on his face even as he held his knife out at his side so the blood would run off of the blade.

Standing there, he thought about Marni, and how much she had loved the rain.

He thought about Shilo, and how she only got to experience it from her balcony.

He thought about keeping her safe now, and for the rest of her life - and he thought about how Benjamin could destroy everything he had worked for, how their brief encounter could destroy the seventeen years he'd spent keeping her protected from the world, the violence, the hatred. What Ben knew could destroy everything, what he had seen -

- but Ben wasn't a repossession. He wasn't on the list.

It wasn't legal.

But he had to keep Shilo safe; that's what was important, just Shilo, no one else. She could never know what he did.

He blinked the rain from his eyes, he replaced his mask, and he continued silently along the street, his mind set; the Repo Man was at the wheel now, in control, and he found himself moving single-mindedly towards Benjamin's home - a shoddy, rundown place - and he stood in the shadows outside for a long moment, letting the monster rise inside of him.

But even the monster inside had the courtesy to knock.

By the time Nathan had gotten to the house, Benjamin was asleep and drooling on the pillow. His mind was finally in a dreamless sleep, something particularly rare and pleasant. This sort of thing usually happened when he didn't mean it to, just simple peace that snuck up on him from time to time. It was something he wished he could grow used to, that it wouldn't be so rare.

When he had heard a sudden knock upon the door though, he jumped awake. Eyes wide for a few moments, he had rubbed the sleep away, brushing off his cheek on the pillow. He wondered who could be coming over at such a time, who could be knocking at his door. The former doctor figured it might have been one of those prostitutes, someone who had assumed he had enough money to support them, perhaps their knight in shining armor. Well, this would certainly be unpleasant, Ben didn't like the idea of chasing whores away from his house. It was a loud task, and being drowsy from sleep didn't really make him more willing to answer this call.

Trudging over to the door, he had yawned softly, scratching his head a bit before answering, "No, I'm not going to be your sugar daddy, go away." He groaned somewhat loudly as the door revealed... well... hardly a girl of the night.

No, it was his worst nightmare.

Yowling out in fear, he felt as though his heart about jumped across the room. Regardless of how close to fainting and soiling himself he felt, Benjamin bolted, trying to figure a way out. His first option was to run to the kitchen and get a knife, perhaps be the one stabbing someone to death for once.

"I paid my bill!" He yelped, fiddling around in the drawer, trying to look for his own weapon. "My money is on the goddamn table if I miscounted or something!" He added, eventually pulling the drawer out of the counter, letting the various silverware hit the floor. Hitting the ground, he was desperately pawing at the forks and spoons, eventually finding a sharp knife amongst the kitchenware.

Some people paid good money to have someone clad entirely in vinyl and leather show up on their doorstep, but this was one of those house calls that no one looked forward to; the Repo Man bode no good tidings, and especially in Benjamin's case, who had up until recently had no real reason to fear retaliation from GeneCo - after all, he wasn't behind on his payments. He hadn't done anything wrong.

He was innocent.

The word echoed through Nathan's mind, but the Repo Man brushed it away with irritation; there was no such thing as innocence in a world as corrupt as the one they lived in - no, innocence was fleeting and as far as the Repo Man was concerned, everyone was guilty.

He stepped inside when Benjamin ran from the door, kicking it closed behind him, and he advanced at an almost leisurely pace, even pausing to watch as Ben frantically rummaged through a pile of silverware, searching for something he could use as a weapon, looking for something sharp, something deadly that he could run through the Repo Man.

But there was only so long that he would be patient, and the moment Ben picked up a knife, the Repo Man responded by picking up the empty drawer and smashing it across Ben's back.

Ben was sure he would be able to escape, until the drawer crashed down upon him. Yelping out in pain, he hardly was able to react, as he was merely pawing at the floor now, body aching. For, he had landed in the silverware a bit too, some of the sharp forks poking into his side as he tried to struggle and get away. "H.. help me." He coughed out, trying to drag himself as far away from this monster as possible. His chest and back ached the most, as he felt as though the wind was knocked out of him. "Stop this Nathan!" He cried out, holding onto the side of a counter to try to pull himself up somehow. Maybe he would be able to run if he could at least get himself to stand.

"Nathan you can't do this! I made my payments, I don't owe GeneCo anything right now!" He suddenly managed, rather quickly. He was afraid of the back of his head getting bashed in, so he had stood up and covered his head a little when he tried getting away. He really didn't want to be the victim of another attack, but he couldn't figure out where to run. His very smallest chance was to reason with Nathan, try to figure out a way to connect with him or something. He needed anything he could to survive this brutal assault.

Reaching for the toaster on the counter, he had picked it up, pulled the plug out, and tried to throw it right at Nathan, anything to slow this Repo Man down.

Repo Man marvelled at the sturdiness of the drawer in his hand for a moment, marginally surprised that it held up under the blow, and he was vaguely aware of Benjamin speaking - words were escaping him, but their meaning wasn't registering, the killer had long ago become immune to the sounds of begging and screaming, for Nathan's benefit. The good doctor was susceptible to that kind of thing, a soft heart - it was why the Repo Man had to take the reins during times like these, or nothing would get done.

Unbelievably, he hadn't seen the toaster coming, and it actually managed to strike the Repo Man directly in the head, and there was only a brief stagger before he was advancing again, unfazed by the pain, and he had dropped his temporary weapon to the ground, and moved up to Benjamin. He kicked Ben in the side to knock him down as he tried to crawl away, forcing him onto his back and then dropping down on top of him, straddling his hips; he tore off his mask then, hurling it across the room - the entire left side of Nathan's face was beginning to bruise, but his eyes were dark in a way that indicated the doctor still wasn't responsive.

It was made especially clear when he reached out and began to strangle Ben.

Benjamin had become more and more desperate as the time passed, he was unsure of what to do with all of this going on. It was terrifying, especially to see that the toaster hardly had phased the other, that it wasn't even enough to temporarily knock him down. This didn't make him regret trying to save Marlow, but he wished someone would save him. "Nathan stop this!" He cried out once more, trying to get the doctor to be the one in control, not this terribly monster.

When kicked, he hit the floor instantly, and soon felt the other male crawling atop him. It wasn't long before breathing became impossible. That's when he started to panic, and wildly scratch the other's arms, pulling desperately at him. His legs were left to try to kick Repo Man in the stomach somehow, try to find a way to knock the wind out of him for once, or anything else he could do. It was hard not to panic, and so, his rate of running out of air was even quicker. Here he thought he would have a chance to run... he couldn't be more wrong.

It didn't help that he was now starting to feel lightheaded and sick, his body starting to grow numb. A few stray curls were covering his face a bit too, as he tried to defend himself.

It was easy, it was so easy to slip his hands around Benjamin's neck and just grip hard; he could feel the slender throat beginning to give under his fingers, and he knew he was closing off the other man's windpipe - this wasn't normally how he did it, the Repo Man usually preferred to slice through the jugular and end the struggling so he could do his work without any trouble, so he could extract the organs without risking damaging them.

But this was different; he didn't need to take anything from Benjamin.

Just his life.

So he held on, and he felt Benjamin kicking beneath him, and he was oblivious to it until he looked into the other man's eyes - big, dark eyes surrounded by long lashes. He became suddenly aware that there were tears on his face and his mind was flickering like an old television, grainy and struggling, and he felt the ringlets of smooth, dark hair that had caught between his fingers.

And then it wasn't Benjamin he was strangling anymore, it was Marni, and she was staring up at him, turning blue and dying because he was choking the breath from her.

Nathan.

He reeled back, releasing Benjamin, pushing himself away from the other man, staggering onto his feet for an instant, only to drop back down onto his knees, staring,

"Oh god," Nathan rasped.