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Grave Matters: A Repo! Roleplay (SevenxKawamura)

This was frighteningly familiar.

Heâ??d never really had deja-vu, having slept like the dead for most his life, and so, never really dreampt. But the feeling of having done this same exact thing before crept along his spine and up his neck, raising his hairs like heâ??d gotten a good fright.

â??Really?â? he asked, dropping that one hand and moving closer. Graverobber had little concept of personal space after all these years of dealing with druggies. He slid his arm up Mr. Straight-Edgeâ??s shoulder, leaning close again. So what if the man wanted him to fuck off? Repo had left Graverobber on edge so much that he was cringing at shadows. One strange suit could improve that, could give him the chance to blow off a little steam.

â??Because you look lost. Now. Are you sure there isnâ??t anything I can help you with?â? As if by magic, a bright blue vial appeared in his hand, the free one he had dropped under his coat. This was familiar, too. For a moment, his throat tightened and he had the urge to rub his neck, a new twitch he had picked over the week as welts healed and faded. Light from the Zydrate illuminated the space between them and threw shadows along Mr. Suit's face. Even colored his glasses blue, and for a moment, Graverobber could see visored eyes lit up in a face otherwise covered by vinyl. He couldn't have pulled away more quickly if the other man had gone up in flames, surprised recognition making his eyebrows crawl up his face in an attempt to disappear into his hair line.
 
Nathan's expression slowly changed from being unimpressed, to being displeased as Graverobber ignored his appeal for personal space; no, instead, the vulture had the tenacity to slip closer, leaning in and putting an arm around his shoulders, and Nathan simmered silently behind his glasses, his arms stiff at his sides and his hands clenched in the perfect display of quiet indignation. He held onto the fuse of his temper then, deciding it was probably best to let Graverobber get through his pitch before he turned him away; experience told him that those lingering in the darker parts of the city tended to be persistant.

Then Zydrate was being held level with his face, and Nathan barely had time to register it before Graverobber was suddenly jerking away from him, wheeling back as though he had been bitten; for an instant, Nathan thought he had done something that he couldn't remember - again - but no, there was something startled in Graverobber's expression, if the dissappearing eyebrows were any indication.

But, right then, Nathan decided it would be a good time to give the other man a good talking to:

"Isn't it bad enough that you're already selling an addictive substance to junkies? Now you're trying to pick out others to get hooked as well - just after a rehabilitation program was initiated, no less." Nathan said; his tone was that of a parent scolding a particularly unruly child, regardless of the fact Graverobber was a little taller, and great deal sturdier than he was.
 
For a moment, Graverobber stared almost stupidly, stained lips parted. Then a slow smile twisted his lips. His Repo Man (it couldnâ??t be anyone else) was lecturing him about the vices of addiction.

â??You hear that, Graverobber!â? One of the hookers, a young girl with a face like a flower on a withered stem and hair that was streaked in more colours than one could count, called out from the side lines. â??Hey, man, maybe you should try the belt. Might do him good!â? The dealer smirked, wide face still turned to the Repo Man. She didnâ??t know that this little man in front of him could probably kill the lot of them (including Graverobber) with his belt. Not that he wanted to see that.

â??I appreciate the Support Network,â? Graverobber said pleasantly, stepping forward again. Repo, he had to admit, looked even better than that one glimpse in half-darkness had hinted at. There was something very alluring in the way the killer cleaned up, in the fact that this soberly dressed man with thick glasses and bags under his eyes was the same that he had pushed up against the ladder some nights back. â??Makes it easier for my customers to find me. Ms. Lar-- I mean, Ms. Sweet was quite clever in that regard: she rarely has to hunt me down now.â?

â??Though the GENcops always end up crashing the party.â? The girl was a loudmouth, one of the regulars with long legs and a lattice of surgery scars she showed off with pride under a see-through shirt. She leaned forward, multi-coloured boa trailing along the ground, and the other girls snickered. â??We could have a party right now, if you like. Free of charge. You remind me a lot of my dad.â? More giggles. Graverobber shook his head, giving the stiff Repo Man a sort of â??girls will be girlsâ?? look before leaning in to whisper lowly,

â??So whoâ??s following who now?â?
 
Nathan's jaw muscles clenched visibly as a hooker to his left cackled crassly; she couldn't have been much older than nineteen, only a few years more than his sweet little daughter, and here she was standing in some dank alleyway, eager to sell her body to the first person willing to pay - and judging by her appearance, the money would be going towards more Zydrate.

He wondered vaguely if he would be getting her repossession form some time soon.

He had nearly taken his mind off of her when she made the commentary about how he looked like her father, and Nathan's posture stiffened even further, if it was even possible at that point. He looked directly at her then, his expression so dark that the hooker wavered on the spot for a moment, as though the space she stood in had been tilted backwards; he said nothing to her, but it was enough to let her know precisely what he thought of her offer.

And then he felt warmth; body heat near him, and his eyes shifted back to Graverobber first, then he turned his head and found that the other man was so close now that they were nearly touching again, and something about the positioning brought back more flashes from the previous week. He'd been in this area, and the pale throat in front of him now was so strikingly familiar that Nathan felt his heart rate pick up and he felt his ears go hot, a sensation that intensified when he felt Graverobber's breath against his skin,

"I don't know what you're talking about." he hissed, taking a step back and adjusting his glasses irritably, "You're out of your mind."
 
The girl pulled back into the little gaggle of whores, suitably chastised. Probably, she told herself to soothe her ego, he was looking for one of the boys. Well-dressed older men always were, and it certainly explained his discomfort around Graverobber.

Who was currently enjoying it. â??â??The lady doth protest too much, methinks,â??â? he breathed, matching Repoâ??s steps, still close enough that, muggy as the weather remained, he could distinctly feel the otherâ??s body heat. Those flickering eyes with just a hint of madness told him what he needed to know. They still had an appreciative audience. Women and a few long-limbed men divided their attention between watching for customers and watching this odd dance.

â??Donâ??t tell me a man who murders defaulters is afraid of a little glow,â? the dealer whispered, leaning close enough that his chest was nearly pressing against his newest victim. Sleeping in graveyards had left just the slightest smell of death and decay clinging to his clothes and twisted hair, though he had long learned to ignore it. Better than the smell of fear and violence any day. His hands artfully manipulated the little blue bullet into the applicator, something stolen from one of the many street-expos that happened under the warm glow of light strings and Rotti's approval. â??First hit is free, even. Best cure around for whatever ails you." Repo was in his court now, and Graverobber was going to take advantage of it for as long as he could. No matter how tough he might be under that mask, there was something about sex and vice that frightened Repoâ??s more mild counterpart, and Graverobber found that fear fascinating. Kept even this killer like a little lamb that had wandered into a pack of wolves. To make that point as clear as possible, Graverobber lifted that hand with the gun in it to run the cold metal of the injector along Repo's neck, the only exposed part of him, really, in that conservative outfit. Lined eyes watched him, taunting. This was just a new level in their game.
 
Despite his occupation, Nathan Wallace had a fairly stable temper; he had always been good at holding back his rage on a day-to-day basis and releasing it at night, when it was safe to do so - but every man had his limits, and right then, as Graverobber once again closed the distance between them, he could actually feel his fuse nearing it's end.

At least Graverobber had the decency to be quiet about it - likely for self-preservation purposes - but Nathan found himself irritated by how much the other man knew, angered with himself for letting it get this far. He quietly questioned how he could have been so careless, and as the other man pressed up against him, everything came back to him all at once - he had cut off a patient's head and tossed it in a macabre game of fetch with Graverobber. He had nearly killed him in the graveyard, right beside Marni's mausoleum.

He had left bruises and hickeys all over the man's throat, and Repo had wanted to fuck him.

It was suddenly overwhelming, the heat of Graverobber's body, the more oppressive heat of the night, the smell of death, and the knowledge of what he'd been doing during the night, too exhausted to stop his alter ego from letting loose a little too much - while he had been sleeping, the Repo Man had been doing things Nathan Wallace never would have approved of.

The sensation of metal sliding against the bare skin of his neck, and the smile on Graverobber's face set him off,

Nathan's hand snapped up, grabbing hold of Graverobber's wrist and pulling it away from his own neck, forcing an arm against the other man's elbow to bend it, twisting the man's hand to his own throat and aggressively pulling the trigger on the Zydrate gun. When it went off, he immediately let go and stepped back.
 
He didnâ??t have the time to react. Suddenly, there was a little sting, a shock, and his world went white, euphorically white.

God damn it, he heard himself think somewhere in the disintegrating rooms of his mind. His inner voice bounced around, muffled, absorbed like he had stuck his head under water. God damn it, that man must have used the whole vial. That was his last care, though before the world went both dark and maniacally bright with color that he could hear and taste as well. Graverobber didnâ??t notice as he sagged against Repo then slipped to the ground, head hitting concrete with enough force that, if his eyes were working, he might have seen splashes of color erupt over his vision.

But he didnâ??t feel it, no more than a dying man was aware of pain, nor did he really hear the shocked howls of laughter from their audience. Dark eyes focused on movement, on Repo, but he didnâ??t see anything.

â??Always knew he had it coming,â? the whore from before called out, cackling, though she was poised to run if needed.

â??Stay away the faggotâ??s dangerous,â? came another call, a dark skinned man with little on save for stigmata and a wide smile, that same coiled energy in his limbs, though he watched the dealerâ??s prone form hungrily. Once the danger had disappeared they could get their fix tonight for free.
 
Nathan had backed away; he let Graverobber fall and he let the Zydrate gun hit the ground with a clatter, the now empty glass vial shattering onto the concrete. For a moment, he considered that he might have killed the other man - but no, he was breathing, and he was almost certain that the scavenger was used to his own drug, enough that a little extra wasn't going to cause any undue harm.

He heard the laughter surrounding him then, the hookers who were lingering nearby, tossing in their jabs, cackling at the fallen one in their number, as empty as the Zydrate vial. He looked up at them then, his face fixed with a barely subdued rage, and he was overcome by a sudden loathing for all of them, and the hungry way they were looking at the unconscious Graverobber, knowing they would be able to raid his body for drugs once he was gone.

He didn't act on Repo's urge to grab the nearest one and - make an example out of him - instead, he leaned down and grabbed up the belt that held Graverobber's storage of Zydrate and dumped it out onto the concrete so every vial shattered, sending splashes of Zydrate across the ground, and it lit up the area around Nathan so that he seemed to be glowing. As an afterthought, he took the money from the case as well, and dropped the belt onto the ground, and he left without a word.

On his way home, he dropped the money into the hands of a small, dirty-looking child, ruffling his hair and continuing through the graveyard.
 
â??Hey. Hey, thief.â?

Graverobber groaned, the noise echoing in his skull painfully as he tried to swallow in a mouth that felt like it was filled with alcohol soaked cotton balls. Ugh. â??What do you want?â? he slurred, growled as he rested the crook of his elbow against his face.

â??You wants to go home and start breakfast for Ray, thatâ??s what she really wants, but sheâ??s forced to wait for your sorry ass to wake up.â? The thief rolled over, away from the voice, and immediately regretted it. Tiny pinpricks of pain peppered his hand as if he had been shot by a teeny, tiny shotgun. â??Watch out for the glass,â? the girl said smartly. There was the sound of two small feet hitting the ground, then footsteps. Graverobber pried his eyes open.

You. Rayâ??s housekeeper and seeing-eye dog when he played blind. She was young, but poor nutrition had stunted her growth, leaving her looking even more like a child. Sheâ??d never grown out of the wide-eyed look of starvation, even though Ray monitored her dietary intake like a hawk. Glass crunched under her shoes as You crouched down, her hair a wide, black halo around her brown, heart-shaped face. â??Ray says heâ??ll give you an extension on this weekâ??s rent. He heard about your â?? â?? she let her coffee-colored eyes take in the image theatrically, relishing Graverobberâ??s moan as he sat up. â?? â?? troubles, and sends fruit and milk. Though, of course,â? she added as Graverobber reached for the apple. â??Itâ??ll cost extra.â?

With a sound of disgust, Graverobber managed to get himself standing, wobbling as if he suddenly was too tall and had no idea how to manage that extra height. You stayed crouched down, running a finger along the blue stain while the dealer patted himself down. â??You. The Zydrateâ??â??

â??Broken. What did you think the glass was?â? Graverobber grunted, shaking out his hair. It was sticky, like, well, Zydrate had dried and left a residue on the strands. He tugged his belt on irritably as You spoke. â??Krystahl says that it was a older guy that got you. Dressed like a shrink or something. Hey. Where you going?â?

â??Iâ??ve got to take care of something before tonight,â? he said distractedly, not even turning around. You rocked back on her heels, shaking her head.

Graverobber was prepared that night. Heâ??d only grabbed one vial on Zydrate between the patrols, but that was all that was needed. Last night, Repo had injected about three-quarters of a vial into his system. Tonight, heâ??d pay him back. Remembering how the man had flipped out before near the line of tombs, he stalked along there, only disappearing behind a tombstone when GENcops got too close. This was not part of their game, he thought as he sat calmly on a wide, double headstone. The man had cost him too much last night, and Graverobber couldnâ??t let that go. Unlike the dirty warm colors of the city, the graveyard was painted in cold blues and blacks, light fog from the shores of the Island blurring all sharp lines. Graverobber whistled to himself, waiting, his little gun prepared and hidden under his coat.
 
Three weeks of being run ragged had left Nathan in rough shape; he was thin and worried-looking from exhaustion, his body was aching from over-exertion, and the cut on his arm was healing so slowly that Nathan was concerned his immune system really had taken the nosedive he had lied to Shilo about. He couldn't get sick though, because he was her sole caretaker - if he was ill, she wouldn't have anyone, she wouldn't know who to call or what to do - no, he wouldn't get sick. He would just have to push on, until Rotti got bored of this sadistic game - he just wasn't sure how much longer it would take, how many more nights he would have to go on like this.

It had to end eventually.

It was one of his rare lucid moments, the first in many days, as he moved through the cemetary towards Marni's tomb; in his hand, he clutched a packaged pair of GeneCo eyes, all of the roots and nerves still clinging to them - they were in perfect shape, and there weren't many Repo Men who could get them out without harming them.

But Nathan wasn't thinking about his work; he was thinking about how, for once, he was getting back early. He had covered his two marks in rapid succession, it had been his good fortune that he had chased them down with little trouble, and now - he could go home to Shilo, he would even have a few hours to spend with her before she went to bed, something that had become so rare that he found himself stepping up the pace to get home just a little faster. He just wanted to see his little girl.

In fact, he was so distracted by the notion that he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary in the cemetary; he neglected to pay attention as he opened the door to Marni Wallace's tomb and stepped inside, stopping so he could look down at her grave for a long moment. It was empty; her body was inside, but the the flowers Shilo had left there last week were still sitting at the end, and he kneeled down to pick them up, touching the wilting petals with a strange fondness.
 
Repo didnâ??t have to walk silently in the graveyards, the only people who might ever hear him were either employed by his boss (and paid to ignore him, though most people would ignore a suited-up Repo Man) or shouldnâ??t have been there in the first place and so would not make themselves known. Graverobber was usually one of the second (though as often as Amber came skanking about, he might as well be in the first), but tonight he had created a new, third category.

He was hunting Repo.

He had gone completely insane.

As such, Repoâ??s steps were different than the slow, hunched walking of the GENcops. Soon as Graverobber heard them, quick, almost as if he were power walking, he slipped down behind his tombstone. There he was, masked head turned in only one direction. The scavenger glided across the empty, cobblestone path. Grass grew up between the stones save for an area just outside the tomb Repo had entered, though Graverobber hadnâ??t noticed that before. It was almost as if someone came down here, regularly, and maintained the area around it. Odd, since this area had been filled since before he had gone into self-employment. He pressed against the doorâ??s side so as not to throw such obvious, Graverobber-shaped shadows. Crossing his arms, he even managed to look blasé, as if he often followed Repo Men home.

Repo Men that had stopped to smell the daisies, as it were.

â??For a psychotic kilter youâ??ve got a fairly predictable route.â?
 
The Repo Man's shoulder's sloped for a moment when he heard the voice behind him; it had become so familiar to both Nathan and Repo that the sound of it made him automatically clench his teeth. He turned around then, a fluid motion that was quite unlike the usual harsh, aggressive movements that the Repo Man made - but even then, he managed to look fierce while holding a small sprig of daisies between his thumb and forefinger.

Nathan felt rage settle in his chest; it wasn't Repo's blood lust or anger this time, it was an emotion that belonged solely to Nathan Wallace, and it was because of the fact that the scavenger had followed him into Marni's mausoleum - it wasn't anger at being followed yet again, or because of the stress and annoyance that Graverobber had caused, but because of the fact it felt like he was disrespecting his long-deceased wife.

He bit back a slew of terrible things that threatened to leave his mouth, but right then, his exhaustion and anger were showing through painfully clear. He was tired.

He just wanted to be with Shilo.

But things weren't going to work out that way, he knew that now.

"Out. Leave." Nathan said, making an irritated 'shoo' motion with his hand; if only it would be that simple.
 
â??And why would I do that?â?

Repo Man wasnâ??t the only one at the end of his rope these days. Graverobber had gotten quite used to being able to sleep in a bed and shower when he felt like it. Heâ??d also gotten quite used to his reputation being secure and he didn't want to fight for it again. The dealer was also out a whole belt-full of Zydrate, smashed to the concrete by his head, and earlier he had had the most difficult time pulling out little shards of glass that twinkled under the yellow light of a street lamp.

â??I feel you at least owe me for yesterday. Part of that was my rent.â? He shoved off the thick entryway and moved towards the night surgeon, almost elegant in his movements. Hard to be completely elegant when one was still wearing the same close he had collapsed in, his motions were smooth and just a touch theatrical as he cocked his head to the side. â??What, a family member?â? he asked, motioning to the name etched in stone. Marni Wallace, eh? Heâ??d store that little tidbit away to ask Ray about. He turned up his wide face, smirking. "Did you or the whores take my money?"
 
"Because I'll have to strangle you again if you don't," Nathan replied flatly; it was strange, his voice coming out of the GeneCo uniform - a smooth timbre, rather than the harsh, rasping one that belonged to the Repo Man - who was currently fighting to surface, now that the Graverobber was in his sights again. But, incensed by the idea that he might still be able to get to Shilo early that evening, he found the fortitude to shove an eager Repo back down, even telling him to sit and be good.

He watched as the Graverobber came closer, and there was a dark flash in the eyes behind the visor when the man gestured towards the tomb.

"I took it." he replied immediately, not one to lie; he tilted his head to the side then, and looked at his glove as though he was checking his fingernails through the leather; a strangely cocky gesture. He added:

"I'm pretty sure it's gone by now."
 
Oh, yes, because lying would be so wrong.

â??Most likely.â? Graverobber said, calmly noting the change in personalities. This was the same man he had talked to yesterday, then, with the tired face and the cold eyes. He wished suddenly that he could see their colour again. The left one had a bit of brown in it, washed out by the light of the mask. A surprisingly sentimental desire for the thief and, he pushed it down.

Another step forward. â??That much Zydrate isnâ??t healthy. Iâ??d hate to develop a full-blown addiction.â? Graverobber, after all, was addicted in the same way most adult were addicted to caffeine. It made his job just a little easier and his life just that much more interesting. Soon, he was close enough that his body was almost touching Repoâ??s, much the same as before. â??You can take the mask off again,â? he offered lowly, leering. â??Iâ??ve already seen your face. Thereâ??s not much point in hiding.â?
 
Nathan felt his skin prickle under the vinyl uniform, a slow heat creeping up his spine, juxtaposed with the cold chill of Repo trying to climb into his chest again - he found himself confused by the first, wary of the sensation. He blamed it on residual feelings from Repo's - experience - with Graverobber. The man that Graverobber had seen in the shadows of the alleyway, that had been Repo, and the previous day, it had been him; he didn't bother to address this, it felt pointless because by that point the scavenger must have been well aware of his -

- duality.

Nathan pushed down his darkness the way that Graverobber pushed down his human side, and the two men were facing off; there was a strange sort of electricity in the air that the doctor couldn't fully understand as they rounded on eachother, eyes connecting - Nathan's cold gaze with Graverobber's too-welcoming one. The leer made Nathan visibly uncomfortable, and he moved to put a large space between them, more skittish about personal space than ever.

"I'd rather leave it on if it's all the same." he said, and his tone indicated that, regardless of whether it was all the same to Graverobber, he intended to leave the mask on.
 
The scavenger was used to watching; Ray, after all, paid well for information when he had been younger in an attempt to train the boy towards vigilance, much in the same way a doting father might pay his son for good report cards. It had worked. Graverobber observed in the same way most people breathed.

â??Now why is the Repo Man so afraid around me?â? he asked softly, curious, though in a voice loud enough to be heard clearly by the other. He was chasing Repo slowly, for every centimeter the other put between them, Graverobber matched it. â??You could kill me pretty easily. We know that from before.â?

Graverobber reached out, ghosting a few fingers along the high leather collar. Of course the persona he was dealing with today didnâ??t want to fight. Perhaps that was good: going through that leather and vinyl would damage the applicator, force him to find a new one. Because he was still intent on drugging the man after yesterday. Graverobber didn't usually play revenge: he let things go or he dealt with the injustice immediately. But this, this was different. He almost wanted to watch Repo's eyes roll up into his head, sharp edge dulling.

Besides. He had a debt to extract. Repo would understand all too well.
 
The light inside the tomb was dim, but it was enough that Nathan could see all of the details of the Graverobber's face, and though he had personally only met the man twice now, Repo's memories made him seem so familiar that it chilled him, like he was doing a strange and murderous dance with an old friend - especially considering what Repo had done to him.

What Repo had wanted to do to him, had been willing to let have happen to - them.

It was a concept that still ruffled Nathan, especially knowing that he couldn't trust his alter ego to behave; at one time, he had felt that he had some semblance of control over Repo, but ever since the sleep deprivation had started, the control had ebbed away, slipped through his fingers, and only now when he was lucid enough, could he keep the Repo Man from being the one constantly at the forefront.

He gave the other man no response, but he made a small noise - almost a whimper - when Graverobber reached out for him, and he felt the fingertips brush against the collar of his uniform, shifting the vinyl. He jerked away, and then took a large step back towards the door, intent on leading Graverobber out of the mausoleum and back into the familiar wide, dark grounds of the cemetary.
 
Graverobber wasnâ??t following that well, though. He herded, more like, attempting to maneuver the other leather-clad figure into a corner.

Mocking, the man said, â??Why donâ??t you just get it over with and fuck me. That seems to be where weâ??re going, wouldnâ??t you agree?â? Another step. Against his wishes, Repo was managing to get them closer to the door, when all Graverobber wanted was to get him up against the wall again. â??A quick fuck to get it out of our systems. We could be done with each other.â? Not that he believed what he was saying. Their aborted make-out session had left him more aroused than any of the cookie-cutter sluts heâ??d bedded lately, Amber included, more alive than he had felt for a long, long time.

And here heâ??d always been annoyed with those folks that needed surgery or Zydrate to get them excited.

He needed to get closer, to get the man to stop. For a moment, that same part of him that had noticed Repoâ??s exhaustion whispered (in a gravely voice much like Rayâ??s) that perhaps he should just leave the poor man alone. The poor man, he reminded himself, was not only a murder and monster (in general), but had just yesterday destroyed every vial of Zydrate he had on him after shooting him up with his own gun.
 
Angular eyebrows rose high behind the mask, and suddenly Nathan had put a much larger distance between them, incensed to do so by what the Graverobber was saying, and partly because he felt a warmth in his spine again, the tingle that was physically pleasant, but disturbing for what it implied - in the back of his mind, he could hear Repo give another of his low laughs. The bastard was supposed to be on his side.

"No, that's not where this is going at all," Nathan hissed, stepping back until he felt the wall, and his hand began to slide towards the door, his eyes still on the ever-advancing Graverobber; the man had made no moves to attack him, but he could see it building up; like any good predator, he could sense when another was on the prowl, and by the look of Graverobber right then, he wasn't just there to give him a hard time.

"We can be done with eachother now, if you'll just get out." he added sharply, and then his wristwatch went off:

Medication reminder.

Medication reminder.

And the reaction was so automatic, so ingrained, that he didn't even think twice about looking down at the watch.
 
In that moment, Graverobber struck with a quickness that his former theatrical movements belied. Very similar, in fact, to the same speed Repo had used on him yesterday. The instant Repo looked down to the watch (whose medication? His own?), Graverobber reached under his coat for the set Zydrate gun and jammed it against the otherâ??s neck, slipping right under that collar of his.

The watch beeped.

Graverobber ignored it to empty the whole vial into the Repo Man, pressing him against the wall to keep him up. At least he was kind enough not to let him fall on his head like the bastard had done to him yesterday if the bump he had on the back of his skull was an indication. Not that he had any of his own selfish reasons, like wanting to feel the otherâ??s warmth. There was a reason people said cold as a crypt (and if they didnâ??t, they should). Something about the image of Repo holding a withering spray of flowers reeked of a feeling he almost identified as pity.
 
He realized he had done something insurmountably stupid the moment he looked down at the watch, but by the time he looked back up, it was too late; Graverobber moved like a snake; in what could have easily been a killing stroke, he jammed a Zydrate gun deep into Nathan's neck, and the initial pain caused him to jerk back, recoiling from the invasive metal. Almost instantly, he felt a burn in his neck, and it quickly moved through his throat, webbing down his chest in waves of heat, and simultaneously moving directly into his head.

A small noise escaped him, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, but it was difficult to tell if it was pain, or something else entirely. For an instant, he struggled against the effects, but then his eyes rolled back into his head, his body went lax, and he slumped forward, held up between Graverobber and the wall, and the wristwatch continued to beep for a few more seconds before it lapsed into silence.

And then, in the eerie quiet, a small, distant voice could be heard,

"Dad?"

A pause, then a little louder this time,

"Dad? Dad, are you okay?"

And even then, barely conscious as the Zydrate worked its magic on the exhausted man, he twitched, rasped out a single syllable, so quiet it could barely be heard, but spiked with an undeniable desperation:

"Shi,"
 
Graverobber had no desire to kill him, however. Didnâ??t even have the desire to torture him, really, unlike the Repo Manâ??s boss. He glanced down to the watch then pulled the limp, leather-gloved arm up, pressing the push-to-talk button. â??Your dadâ??s fine, kid,â? he said gently, almost shocked. This monster had a kid? â??He just passed out. Over work, it looks like. Weâ??ll put him down for a nap.â? Yeah. A nap. In paying the man back, heâ??d probably gave him the only rest he had gotten all week if he read the signs correctly. That, or the guy was suffering from some sort of sickness, but he doubted that: heâ??d seen the thick stack of files Ray had pulled out.

Carefully, he settled the Repo Man down, arranging him in a more comfortable position. All those layers would keep him warm even on the cold stone. That taken care of, he went for the heavy bag. Jesus. He could hawk this thing to Ray for quite a sum, and insideâ?¦

The low temperature air wafted out, condensing the moisture in the air quickly. Graverobber stuck his grimy hand inside, coming out with a wrapped pair of eyes staring up at him. Jackpot. Maybe heâ??d sell his loot to someone other than Ray out of spite, but the man would find out. Probably end up with the eyes and bag either way and in any case it was best to keep on a man like thatâ??s good side. â??This, I have to say,â? he said, looking over to the prone Repo Man. â??Is better than Zydrate.â? The scavenger tucked the eyes back in lovingly, then stood, strolling over to Repo to check the otherâ??s status.
 
Nathan Wallace was in unfamiliar territory; his meticulous and obsessive nature had kept him away from any of the vices that could have tampered with his perception, and his experience with Zydrate had been on a strictly medical basis - that was to say, back when he'd used anesthetic, it had only ever been on other people. He had never been the type to experiment.

So everything was coming as a shock to his system; his entire body felt too warm, his nerve endings felt like they were on fire, and there was an idiotic sort of sleepiness, a pleasant lethargy that had taken over his system and made it difficult to even think. He found that even if he closed his eyes, he couldn't stop the bizarre whirl of colours that were blazing in the edges of his vision every time something made a sound, every time that Graverobber shifted, or even a blade of grass moved outside of the mausoleum.

Somehow, he managed to get his hand up - was it even his hand? It felt like it belonged to someone else - and tug his suddenly suffocating mask off, part of his brain still dazedly trying to sort things out, still determined to get to Shilo even though she suddenly seemed like she was miles away, while the rest of him was urging that he just stop thinking for a while. His normally cold, clear eyes looked drowsy and half-lidded, his pupils enlarged; a dark bruise had blossomed on his throat from where the gun had gone in, and he twitched visibly when Graverobber stepped towards him, the movement causing echoes inside of his head that he could actually feel in his teeth.

Wow. I have a lot of teeth.

Nathan giggled.
 
Graverobber crouched down, smoothing back grey hairs to check for the pulse at his temple. A little fast, but that was expected for a gentleman that had a whole vial of Z in him now. And if that giggle was any sign, Repo was probably out of his mind with the drug.

â??Welcome to the twenty-first century cure,â? he murmured, then, in an act of kindness he couldnâ??t quite explain (the heat, he told himself later), he stripped out of his stained faux-leather coat, balled it up and tucked it under the manâ??s head. Graverobber turned Nathanâ??s head towards him with the slightest pressure on the manâ??s jaw, looking into eyes that had suddenly been taken over by black, only the thinnest line of color remaining around the pupils. His pale neck was coloring in what would be an ugly bruise, fitting for a man who had left welts on the thief earlier that week. Other than that, though, he was completely fine and completely high.

â??Like I said, the first hitâ??s free.â? Graverobber straightened then wandered back over to the organ carrier. â??Marni Wallaceâ??, eh? Looked like those eyes were going to come in handy bribing Ray for information. Not too many else would be crazy enough to take in parts stolen from a Repo Man. His shadow, smaller now without the coat, lengthened and shrunk as a patrol went nearby, flashing their lights over the grate with only a passing interest, as if they really didnâ??t want to see what was going on in here. So Repo must come this way often. Hmm. A kid and a tomb with a womanâ??s name. Graverobber had a feeling he knew at least some of the information Ray would find on this man. Shame. He had hoped for something more than just a widower.

Counting up to one-hundred, the dealer bent down to pick up his loot. This was new territory to him as well, unused to mugging Repo Men as it were. Hell, he wasnâ??t even much of a mugger. Too much work when there were bodies out there that didnâ??t fight back. Not that this one was doing much fighting, he thought as he glanced over to where Repo was splayed out on the pale stone. Payback would be a bitch, though, really, â??Wallaceâ?? or whoever he was should thank him. At one hundred, Graverobber pressed himself up to the door, checking for cops, then slipped out, not even bothering to latch the door behind him.
 
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