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Grave Matters: A Repo! Roleplay (SevenxKawamura)

Nathan was out for nearly five hours, his entire system overwhelmed by the drug coursing through him - however only a fraction of that time was spent in the mausoleum because after nearly an hour it was purely by chance that a GENcop happened to peer into the open mausoleum, his curiosity incensed. He discovered Nathan laying on the floor and initially his reaction was to call for a superior to help him figure out if he was supposed to shoot him - up until the point he realized what Nathan was wearing and the GENcop went white under his own uniform. He didn't want to see this; he didn't want to know who this guy was, so he averted his eyes to the ceiling of the Mausoleum, trying to erase what he'd seen from his memory.

"Uhh-ohh shit," he said, and then called for a superior anyways, "We got a downed, um -"

"Yes?"

"- Repossession Agent?"

There was silence on the other end, but back up couldn't have come faster; the GENcops knew that the Repo Men, though rarely spoken of, were key players in GeneCo as well as being a source of fascination to many of the employees. The next GENcop who came in, however, fixed his understudy with a cold look before moving to Nathan, tugging his mask back onto him; these guys wore them for a reason.

And hours later, Nathan woke up in a very unpleasant way; he had to force his eyes open and the first thing he saw was the swollen, bloated face of Rotti Largo staring down at him. Nathan's head swum and he resisted the urge to scream at the sight; moving was still a chore, his limbs felt five times too heavy and the light was too bright, so he rolled his head to the side and found himself staring into the alternately drowsy, crazed, and vapid eyes of the Largo children.

"Nngk." Nathan croaked, and with the cold flourescent lights shining down on him, he couldn't help feeling like he was in a sick stage show.

"It's-a the Glow," Pavi said brightly.

"You'll feel like shit for a while." Luigi said.

"Mm, but you look so good," Amber moaned out, and her fingers crept towards his hair, only to be batted away by Rotti who gave her a sharp look that made her pout and cross her arms over her chest like a child would. Nathan decided then that he didn't want to look at them either so his eyes shifted around the room instead, groggily taking in the world around him; it was a brightly lit, intensely sterile hospital room and he was wearing flimsy hospital clothes - his watch was gone.

Shilo.

Suddenly Nathan was trying to jerk upright, but he found resistance halfway up and quickly realized his arms were strapped down; Luigi roughly shoved Nathan back down, grinning like the animal he was.

"I have to go. I need to be somewhere." Nathan managed to rasp out, his voice rough, throat dry.

"You're in no shape to leave." Rotti said, and Nathan's vision pulsated with the words, his eyes nearly crossing - the Zydrate wasn't out of his system yet and was likely to leave residual effects for a while, but hallucinations weren't a concern of his; he needed to get home to Shilo, "Besides, you were attacked - and we can't simply let that go, after all, we take care of our own here at GeneCo."

Nathan made a rough noise that may have been a laugh, but Rotti ignored it,

"Can you identify the person who attacked you?" Rotti asked then, and there was something about the glint in his eyes that told Nathan there was more to this.

"The package was taken, wasn't it?" Nathan asked, and he watched Rotti's mouth go into a thin line; yes, there it was. It didn't matter that he had what was now a self-sustaining multi-billion dollar empire and had the world pleading at his feet - when it came down to it, Rotti Largo wouldn't stand being stolen from. Even then, laying in a GeneCo hospital room with his neck aching and his head swimming, some part of Nathan managed to be impressed by the Graverobber's tenacity - there weren't many who would be willing to paint a target on themselves for GeneCo to aim at.

So Nathan was at a crossroads; he had two options, but the soft laughter of Repo told him that it wasn't really a choice.

Slowly, with his eyes pinned to Rotti's, Nathan spoke, and his voice was gravelly and dark:

"I couldn't say."
 
Graverobber drifted back towards the city, especially careful not to get caught. Self-employed men like himself were targets in the graveyards, but tonight he had even more precious cargo: a bartering chip even Ray couldnâ??t turn down. Two of them, in fact.

The nightlife was only now really starting to come alive as Graverobber reached his normal haunting grounds. Word of what had happened yesterday must have spread quickly because quite a few of the multi-colored junkies grinned at him then leaned towards their little groups to chatter. And there was none of the tell-tale illumination on his hips. â??Getting out of the business, Graverobber?â? one heckled him, nearly falling over as slanted forward just a little too much. So some other dealer had been around. Heâ??d have to rectify that.

Later.

Tonight, no shadows scared him, no sudden noises made him jump and his heart nearly leap out of his chest. There was the soothing-annoying constant level of sound from the omnipresent speakers, whispering advice and advertisements (all of them leading back to GeneCo and what King Rotti could do for you), but other than that, there was nothing on his way to Rayâ??s. He jiggled the door open, shocked for once to not see the old bat at his make-shift office in the â??lobbyâ?? of the building. Obviously, this was news that hadnâ??t reached his ears.

You appeared after only a few sharp knocks to Rayâ??s door. â??What do you want?â? she asked irritably, lips disappearing as she pressed them close enough to stop blood circulation. Past her, Rayâ??s walls were lined with shelves, each one stuffed with various forms of reading material, data disks, and other knick-knacks. There was some mad organization system there, something perhaps only Ray and You understood. â??Ray said thatâ??â??

â??Wake him up. I need information.â?

â??Come back tomorrow, then. The manâ??s aslâ??What in Godâ??s name is that?â? she asked, eyes widening as Graverobber held up the night surgeonâ??s bag. The question was entirely rhetorical: she knew exactly what is was, and disappeared from the door. Graverobber pushed it open with his shoulder, letting himself in. This time, he was polite enough to close the door behind him. The thief dropped it down onto Rayâ??s scratched coffee table, that weekâ??s tabloids cushioning his carelessness.

â??Jesus Christ on a damned monkey, where did you get that?â? Graverobber turned away from the shelf he was examining, fingers still resting on the spines of books. Rayâ??s synthetic eyes had nearly popped out of his head, and it wasnâ??t with admiration that he looked up at the dread-locked young man. â??You attacked a GeneCo employee, boy.â? It wasnâ??t a question.

â??Repo Man, actually.â? Graverober took more than a little joy in the way the color drained out of Rayâ??s face, and Youâ??s behind him where she poked her head out of his bedroom. His reedy body swayed then he plopped down on the old couch that took up some of the only non-shelved wall. For a moment, he just sat there, not looking up at Graverobberâ??s pale, smug face as he rubbed his scalp under his shock of white, curly hair. Then, he leaned forward, examining the case. Graverobber turned away, not even looking when he heard the soft click and gust of air, followed by a quick intake of breath. â??I need information,â? he repeated, finally turning around.

â??Why? Youâ??ll be dead within the week.â? Ray wasnâ??t looking at him: instead, his attention was completely focused on the bagged pair of eyes looking up at him from his wrinkled palm. There was a hunger, there, the sort he was used to seeing in the eyes of junkies, and Graverobber couldnâ??t help but smirk. Ray jerked, glancing towards the thief. â??â??Give a man a lever long enough, eh?â?? What do you want?â?

Graverobber slid around, leaning against the shelves. They dug into his back much like the rungs of an emergency ladder would. â??Woman who died about fifteen years back. Name of â??Marni Wallaceâ??. Do you know of her?â?

Ray gestured to You who vanished from her sentry at the bedroom door. â??The name is familiar,â? he said, tucking the eyes back lovingly into the sub-zero carrying case. You reappeared, a whole armful of folders tucked against her chest. â??Ah, thank you, Helen,â? he said sweetly, the only person who had ever bothered to give her a name that wasnâ??t also a pronoun. â??And my glasses, ah, thank you. Thereâ??s a dear.â? Graverobber watched as he started leafing through now brittle paper, humming to himself. â??Here we go. â??Rotti Largo to Marry Young Bride.â?? And â??Largo Left at Altarâ??. Iâ??ve also got an obituary here, for Wallace and her daughter.â? Graverobber came over and crouched down, letting Ray turn over the pages.

â??Wait, stop. Thatâ??s him.â? The thief pressed a finger to a much younger, much happier looking Repo before Ray shooed him and his dirty hands away. The picture was small, and professional. A wedding picture, then, with that white gown. â??â??Nathan Wallaceâ??. Did they have more than one kid? I heard someone call him â??dadâ??.â?

Rayâ??s bushy eyebrows drew together as he read. â??No, and the short lived rumor was she was poisoned. Her and the kid.â? He sat back, eyes closing. â??And this is the Repo Man Rottiâ??s running every night. Curious.â?

â??He does keep grudges,â? You spoke up, wavering at Rayâ??s side should he need her again. Ray nodded, then turned half-lidded eyes on Graverobber.

â??Youâ??ve gotten into something nasty, boy. Iâ??ll keep your place for you until you extract yourself from it. When youâ??re sure youâ??re not being followed, you are allowed to sleep here, but if the authorities come, I know nothing.â? Graverobber nodded, stained lips curling. â??Iâ??ll make you a copy of this information so you can read at your leisure.â? Suddenly, Ray looked so very old as he stood, helped up by You. â??Iâ??ll give you something quick to keep with you. Youâ??ve been a good dealer.â?

It wasnâ??t the first time Ray had referred to him in the past tense, Graverobber thought as You lead him out. It wouldnâ??t be the last. Now, he needed a shower.
 
Rotti was displeased with the lack of information, but regardless, he motioned for him to be released and the Largo children all put disturbingly eager hands in to pull the straps off his wrists and legs, and he jerked when he swore he felt fingers slip unneccessarily up his calf - though he was unable to tell whether it had been Amber or Luigi's doing. Nathan tugged on the clothes he'd worn beneath his repossession uniform, and found that there was something extra in amongst his things - a ratty, faux fur-trimmed jacket, covered in the blue stains of dried-in Zydrate and smelling vaguely of death and decay. Apparently it hadn't been inspected too thoroughly by anyone because it had simply been folded up and placed beside the rest of his clothes - Nathan found himself pushing away the disturbing question of who had undressed him; he didn't want to know.

He ended up half-stumbling out of the hospital room once he was dressed, the Zydrate still coursing through his veins in a way that made the world tilt every time he took a step, like the hallway was rocking on a wave; halfway out of GeneCo, he had to stop and cling to a pillar for a moment, seeking stability from it and finding none because the wall felt as though it was moving too, crawling and alive.

When he got out of the building he found there was no relief in the air there either; the sun was coming up now, but the atmosphere was still stifling hot and Nathan found himself wishing for a cold breeze and he closed his eyes against the sudden excess of visual stimulation, staying there until he felt something wrench on either of his arms. Alarmed, his eyes shot open, and he found Rotti's henchwomen on either side of him and being the amazons they were, it was easy for them to tug Nathan to a waiting car and he couldn't find the energy to protest.

The ride went by in a flash of streetlights, and by the time the sun was over the horizon, he was dragging himself into the Wallace home, and suddenly Shilo was in front of him with her thin arms wrapped around his waist, her head buried against his chest, her ear to his heart. Neither of them said anything, but they stood in silence like that for a long time.
 
Graverobber had the sense to wait till after dark.

The mausoleum was fast becoming a familiar place to him as much time as he was spending in it lately. Journeying across the cemetery was no problem for him: usually, he did this a little more slowly, stopping to check bodies on the way. Tonight, though, he simply flitted from tombstone to memorial, evading the GENcops easily. They were spooked this evening, barely shining their flashlights into a dark corner or shadow before moving on.

A patrol passed by, that same half-hearted search repeated even at this corner. Maybe even worse than elsewhere, if he thought about it. Once they were gone (and quickly, too), Graverobber strolled across the pathway to stop, crouching, in front of the door. Locked. Someone had obviously expected his return. Whistling to himself, ever the jolly thief, he reached down to his pocket and pulled out a pin and screwdriver to fiddle with the lock. He managed, even in the low light of the graveyard, to force the lock.

There were no flowers tonight, he noticed first off, save for the remains of the daisies Repo had been fingering the other night. His coat was missing as well. Shame. He was fond ofâ??hello. What was that? Another exit? Graverobber glanced back as if to check that this wasnâ??t a trap, then wandered over to the tunnel.

Interesting. Now where did this leadâ?¦?

A few minutes (and one fork), he found himself in a laboratory. And not just any laboratory.

â??Christ,â? he whispered, rotating to get a good look around at the stereotypical mad-scientist lab. Botltles and canisters were scattered all over the room, and near what looked like it might have been some psychotic dentist chair on wheels, there was an array of knives. And hanging in what looked like it used to be a communal shower (though most communal showers lacked rust-colored blood stains running up the tiled walls) was Repoâ??s uniform. The thief whistled, moving to explore. Unwashed hands skimmed over each surface until he got to what looked like the clichéd â??secret entranceâ??. Good God, this was a madhouse. Curious, Graverobber pushed his weight against the indention, grinning to himself as it slid forward just a few inches with a pleasant sliding sound.
 
It seemed that recent events had been enough to finally force Rotti to stop the cruelty; he granted Nathan a very brief leave of absence from his job, long enough so he could recover from the effects of the Zydrate and finally get some solid hours of sleep. It was the doctor's hope that, once he resumed his job in a few short nights, the list would have been whittled down to only a few repossessions a week, because in the last three weeks, Nathan had been assigned to no fewer than forty repossessions, three times as much as most Repo Men would do in the same period of time.

Nathan took advantage of the time off; he slept, and though the hours only ebbed away at some of the exhaustion and his appearance was still somewhat haggard, when he got up, he felt less delirious than he had in the past few weeks, and the Zydrate had finally vanished from his system, leaving behind only a vague headache and a nasty, stinging bruise on his throat. He made sure to wear a high-collared shirt that day in the vague hopes Shilo wouldn't notice the bruise, and he assured her that he was almost better now, that things would be back to normal soon.

He wasn't going to leave her alone like that anymore, so long as he was alive.

And when Shilo was in bed, Nathan wandered the sitting room of the enormous home, pacing irritably in his housecoat as he finally took the time to think over the events of the last few weeks with a relatively clear head. He had done things in that time that he never would have done if he had been - all there, and it left him feeling as though Repo was even more separate from him now, less controllable. It was something he would have to rectify, he needed to get a handle on himself once more, needed to keep that side in check - though, the how wasn't coming to him as easily as the what.

He had been absorbed in those thoughts until he heard a familiar sound - it was the noise of the fireplace shifting, slowly swinging on its heavy hinges, sliding against the wood of the floor. Nathan automatically crossed the room, one hand grabbing up a heavy, black iron fire poker, and he approached the fireplace, waiting silently until he saw the grinning face, and he changed his tactics; rather than swinging the blunt tool into Graverobber's head, he snapped a fist out and struck the man directly in the cheekbone before grabbing hold of the front of his shirt.

"What are you doing here?" Nathan seethed.
 
He hadnâ??t expected to find a house on the other side. Graverobber recoiled, trying to move back into a better fighting stance, but Repo, Nathan was too quick for him. Again with strength his small, weary body didnâ??t hint at, that hand was yanking him forward, jerking him when his momentum wanted him to fall back the other way.

The thief looked up into that grey, drawn face, mind trying to take in the picture of a domestic Repo in his house robe and all. â??I wanted my coat back,â? he said, recovering smoothly as his eyes ran along the scene behind Repo. Apparently the job paid well. The room was enormous, one of the fading Victorians in a neighborhood Graverobber didn't often visit. There was so little color though, especially compared to the garish night light the dealer often found himself a part of. He stuck out like a sore, brightly colored thumb. Glancing down, he noticed the poker and decided, really, the punch wasnâ??t so bad in comparison.

â??Trust me, I don't often make house calls, Nathan.â? Those eyes kept scanning, taking in his new surroundings hungrily. This was completely unfamiliar. Even Ray, who was better off than most people, didn't live in a place like this. This looked unlived in, as if Repo kept it to keep it, not because he had a home. There was none of the normal mess one would expect, giving the whole place (at least, as far as he could see) the air of a museum or perhaps a tomb.
 
Nathan's face was drawn, his mouth in a thin line as he stared at Graverobber through the thick frames of his glasses; despite the rest he'd had, there was still no colour in his face - he seemed to match the rest of the house, dark and gray with only the amethyst of his houserobe to break the dreary colour palette. He still clutched the fire poker in his left hand while he held Graverobber's shirt with the other, and he was clearly displeased; not only had Graverobber initially invaded his job, he'd gone into Marni's mausoleum, and now his home.

"You've gone beyond any possible set boundary." Nathan said, releasing Graverobber then, but the way he looked at the man indicated that he was still considering what to do with him. In the back of his mind, Repo offered up a few choice possibilities, which were equal parts disturbing and uncouth, and Nathan had to shake it off,

"Rotti Largo wants to see you gutted." he added flatly, and something about his tone made it very obvious who would be doing the gutting.
 
â??I do remember something about grave-robbers being shot on sight, yes,â? the man said, straightening his discolored, off-white shirt. He wiped his hands on his pants, then turned his powdered face towards Repo, stained lips curling.

Repo was still exhausted: Graverobber could see that in the way he held himself. But the Zydrate would have faded by now, so it was only age and over work bleaching the color from his skin. Free, Graverobber started moving, examining the room with his fingers. â??So Rotti gave you a few sick days?â? he asked, aware that now would have been the Repoing hour if the man was out. Thatâ??s what he had come now, after all, hoping to avoid the monster. He hadnâ??t expected to find Repo at home wrapped in a robe. All he needed was fuzzy slippers to complete the image.

Graverobber through a smirk over his shoulder. â??Nathan,â? he added, fingers touching a vase of dried flowers on one of the conservative, though expensive, side tables.
 
"You've gone beyond that," Nathan replied, watching Graverobber slowly make his rounds on the room; he was aware of the man's penchant for theft, but found it was the least of his concerns - with Shilo asleep upstairs, he just wanted the entire interaction to remain quiet, "Defacing graves and disturbing the dead, selling raw Zydrate on the streets - it will get you shot, but stealing GeneCo property will earn you a much slower death."

If Rotti found out, of course.

He watched the tattered, rainbow-coloured thing flit from spot to spot, and his jaw clenched visibly when Graverobber used his first name again,

"Stop calling me that." Nathan said, discomforted by the sound of it coming from the other man; it gave him chills - so few addressed him by his first name, and the use of it created an intimacy that he didn't like. He hesitated for a moment, and then turned and crossed the room, picking up something that had been put into one of the hermetically sealed repossession bags - it was Graverobber's coat, but it had clearly been washed and pressed, folded into the bag in the way of the truly anal-retentive.

"Here." Nathan said, shoving it into Graverobber's hands, "Now leave."
 
Graverobber grinned wickedly, playing the demon to Nathanâ??s angel. That was rich. Keeping his voice low, intimate (not only because he remembered there was a kid in the house, but to unnerve Repo), he said, â??Youâ??re giving me grief for bothering the dead, taking what they canâ??t use, and selling it back to people who are too stupid to not buy it?â? He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. â??When you attack and brutally kill people because they can't pay for a body part." He snorted derisively. "At least have the decency to be good before you lecture me.â?

He watched as Nathan stalked off, grabbing for the only other colored thing in this house besides himself. Taking the coat (and noticing already the lack of stains, leaving the piece of clothing several shades lighter) Graverobber stepped forward towards Nathan, invading his space again.

â??Not yet, Nathan,â? he said, still smirking. â??Seventeen years, right? And no other woman after Rottiâ??s stolen prize?â? The thief tossed the bag carelessly towards a chair so his hands would be free. â??And working for Rotti the whole time?â? Slowly, he reached out a hand to touch the other's bruise, amused by how easily Repo was upsetted by him. No, not Repo. This would be Nathan, not the Repo Man. The other man's whole body language was different now, so very tired and so very heavy. Guilt. "Damned good way of selling your soul. Man must pay in gold ingots."
 
Nathan's eyes were downcast, as though he was simply accepting Graverobber's words without argument; he hadn't disagreed, because everything the other man was saying was correct, and he had long ago stopped trying to justify it in his own head. The only reassurance he had left was his little girl, the sole thing he had to live for anymore - if it weren't for Shilo, Nathan Wallace may well have simply laid down and died beside his wife seventeen years ago.

But his eyes snapped up at the mention of Marni, and for the first time since they'd met, the cold eyes filled with a horrible, raw sort of pain, the kind that made it clear Graverobber was jabbing his dirty fingers into a sore, open wound. He turned his head away again when the other man approached him, and he tensed when the hand came close, jerking back reflexively when Graverobber actually made contact, recoiling as he had done so many times before, like an abused animal would do.

"My consequences are none of your concern." Nathan said sharply, and his hand clenched visibly around the fire poker, knuckles going even whiter, "Get out of this house."
 
All this for a damned woman. Repo had disappointed him: heâ??d seen this story a million times before, splashed across the gossip rags and the damned TV. He had thought that â?? no, this was his fault for raising his expectations. All he had was that misery to dig at, a kid wiggling a loose tooth for the almost-pain the sensation caused.

â??No theyâ??re not,â? he said, ignoring the way the Repo Man flinched away from him. So this was what Repo was when he wasn't elbows-deep in a body: a broken old man, one of many Rotti had left. And this one wasnâ??t even fighting. They were always much more interesting when they fought back. Graverobber pulled away, wandering back to explore what few things were out in this room. Empty. So damned empty. How did the man keep a kid here? Didnâ??t a young person make messes, didnâ??t even a widower leave a book open or a drop a piece of trash just a little away from the bin by accident? Graverobber rarely stayed at his semi-permanent address, and he at least had a plant and laundry strewn everywhere.

Nearly seventeen years of mourning. At least that was interesting. Most people had the attention span of flies, even with their â??eternal lovesâ??. Graverobber had seen probably fifty pairs promise themselves forever and, a year later, one of them was with someone new, their partner perhaps dead and disposed of, dropped off into one of those mass graves.

â??So how does one go from a dead wife to Rottiâ??s number one Repo Man?â? Graverobber turned around, for once giving Nathan space if not obedience. He crossed his arms, leaning back against a bare wall with a look of lazy attention. Like this was his house and Nathan the intruder.
 
At that point, Graverobber had forced himself into nearly every aspect of Nathan's life, and the concept of someone else knowing that much about him - it made him itch, made him uncomfortable. Only the Largo family knew about his double life and the only reason they continuously insinuated themselves into both sides of it was to ensure that his work continued to benefit them, that he continued to bring in the repossessed organs night after night and keep the fear running through the city.

And in the case of Rotti and Luigi, Nathan suspected it was because they also enjoyed occasionally watching what he did, some sick sideshow for their sadistic amusement - like father, like son.

Sometimes, it made Nathan wonder if Shilo was going to suffer the consequences of genetics, sometimes he wondered if his sweet daughter had some dark thing deep inside of her, just waiting to come out. Nathan hadn't even been aware of his own, until Rotti had introduced him to Repo via the first order he was given - he could still remember the first taste of that darkness, and the shame and nausea that followed it.

But it was clear that Graverobber hadn't bothered to separate those parts of himself; he seemed almost at peace with his own monster, a concept that still baffled Nathan. He felt the other man's eyes on him, and he crossed his arms over his chest; the urge to hurt the other man was welling up inside of him again, but Shilo's room wasn't so far away - she would hear it if he killed Graverobber.

Nathan began to pace; he imagined that most people handled intruders differently than this, rather than bouncing between the idea of killing or doing - other things - to them.

He chose not to reply to Graverobber's question; he had no reason to answer.
 
Graverobber watched. Nathan was uncomfortable, even in his own home, that much was obvious. What wasnâ??t obvious as much was whether that discomfort continued when Graverobber wasnâ??t there: most men disliked strangers in their homes (though, after all theyâ??d done in the last two weeks or so, they were hardly strangers), but how many felt like they were strangers in their own home? The thief had the sneaking feeling that Nathan was one of those men that fell into the second category.

And still no sign of the kid. That was also interesting.

Seeing that he would get no answer, Graverobber pushed himself off the wall with a little grunt. Nathan, he imagined, would probably come behind him with a sponge and alcohol if heâ??d figured the man out by now. How dull.

He wasnâ??t thinking such deep thoughts as he ambled aimlessly over to the stairs. Graverobber didnâ??t see a monster in himself: he was him, he generally did what he liked and paid little heed to what others expected of him. It wasnâ??t peace, it was just a simple apathy. Generally, it was the dead he dealt with and they certainly didnâ??t care about moral systems. They were almost more interesting than the living these days.

Nathan was certainly feeding his misanthropy, but, really, whoâ??s fault was that? Graverobber had been the one to raise his expectations, after all, he thought as he trailed the tips of his fingers along the polished wood of the stairway. The same, faded wall paper with the dated floral print continued along the walls: this might have been a handsome house, once, but it seemed like the owner cared little for injecting color into the place. â??How was the Zydrate, by the way? When I left you certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself.â?
 
Nathan tugged unconsciously at the collar of his shirt as he was reminded of the Zydrate and the resulting, tender bruise on his neck; from what he remembered of it, the Zydrate had caused what felt like hours of bizarre sensations, and all of the meaning had been wrenched from everything and reduced to a blur of colours and shapes, and he could remember being able to see sounds. If he thought about it hard enough too, he could remember the GENcops gathering around him and lifting him out of the mausoleum - but nothing after that.

He watched as Graverobber advanced through the room, and suddenly Nathan was moving too, showing some of the bizarre speed that occasionally possessed him and ducking around and in front of the other man, standing on the staircase in front of him to block him. His daughter was upstairs, and letting Graverobber near her wasn't an option. Nathan, not just Repo, would kill for that cause.

"It made me numb." Nathan replied flatly.
 
â??Thatâ??s about right.â? Graverobber had stopped a few steps down, noting how protective Nathan was. So this must be where the kid was. â??The watered down shit Rotti sells wonâ??t do much good. Pure, itâ??ll blow your mind away.â? The thief smiled thinly, crooked as always as he leaned forward towards Nathan. The Repo Man was surprisingly attractive, even in that fuddy old house robe.

â??Probably good for you,â? he added, just far enough that his eyes could focus. He raised a hand to Repoâ??s face, almost touching his cheek but not quite. In the temperature-controlled air of the house, he could feel the otherâ??s body heat, his hand was so close. â??Like I said, the first time is free, but the secondâ?¦â? Graverobber trailed off, seeing a flash of blue in the distance, and turned his head towards it. My. What was that? There seemed to be another hologram, like the one above the fireplace, upstairs. Maybe a second if the way the light flickered was any indication.
 
Nathan held firm this time; even when Graverobber came so close that he could feel the other man's breath against his skin, and when he brought his hand up as though to touch him, Nathan didn't move, clearly determined to stay in the way this time, his jaw set, the muscles shifting visibly. Up this close, Nathan felt his neck beginning to flush again, as it had done a few weeks ago when he'd run into a similar situation with Graverobber,

"You've already over-stepped your boundaries." Nathan said sharply, though rather than having the homicidal fierceness of the Repo Man right then, he had the sternness of an annoyed father; it was likely difficult for anyone to see the darkness in Nathan, because the horn-rimmed glasses and silver hair only detracted from the possible intimidation.

Though, that tended to change when he was - in the moment.
 
That flush was almost endearing. Graverobber had turned his head back when Nathan had begun to speak to him again, that same stern tone from before. Again, he found it terribly ironic that Repo of all men was lecturing him about personal property laws and boundaries. He climbed the two or so steps needed to put him right below Repo. Now the other man was taller than him, though Graverobber wouldnâ??t call the â??peeved teacherâ?? look intimidating.

Maybe if he was twenty years younger.

â??I have. But you seem to let me do such,â? he whispered, deep voice low. â??For example.â? He had dropped his head to continue that not-quite-touch with his mouth and nose. â??Why did you not tell Rotti about me? Weâ??re both very aware heâ??d let you be the one to punish me.â? Nathan may strive to be boring, but that response wasnâ??t. Boring men didnâ??t go against Rotti Largo. Maybe there was a little more to Nathan Wallace than met the eye.
 
Nathan's body went a little more rigid as Graverobber came closer, and the jaw muscles worked harder now; it was taking a clear effort for him not to create distance between them because the feeling of someone else's heat against his body was disconcerting, but he held his ground. He could hear Repo trying to reason with him, trying to urge him towards things he was resisting - what harm would it be, really, no one would miss Graverobber if he dissappeared, right? He could make the other man go away, get rid of the problem right then and there.

Or, at the very least, Repo urged, just dig your fingers into that ridiculous hair again and teach him a lesson he won't forget.

"Don't let it go to your head," Nathan replied, and the pink had crept up to his cheekbones now; he found himself hoping that he could pretend it was from anger, "You're just the lesser of evils."
 
Actually, Graverobber would be missed. It would be a terrible inconvenience for both Ray, one Largo child, and several blocks full of junkies. His plant would also miss him, having gotten used to a cup of water when he remembered, though that would soon be adopted by someone with a little more interest in its welfare and would flourish.

So maybe offing Graverobber was a good idea.

â??Must have felt good to disobey Rotti for once, eh?â? he breathed against Nathanâ??s neck, right under his jaw. This was just as good as having a wall behind the other manâ??s back. â??A few hours of numbness, a chance to get back at your boss. Really, you owe me.â? Surprisingly white teeth dug in the bruise with enough force to cause pain for the damaged tissue but not enough to make the bleeding under the skin worse.

He was almost being careful with Nathan. So maybe the stern father act worked better than he'd like to admit.
 
Nathan had been about to reply, but all possible responses dissappeared from his head when Graverobber leaned in and - bit him. It was hard enough to cause a spike of pain in the already tender skin, but not enough to cause further damage, but what disturbed Nathan the most was that the sensation didn't register as being entirely unpleasant.

A sharp noise escaped him, and almost immediately he jerked away from the other man and ended up sitting on one of the steps behind him, eyes wide behind the thick glasses.

"Are you out of your mind?" he hissed, and now the pink had reached his temples, and the bruise on his neck stood out more intensely, heat having rushed to it from the bite. He sat there, stunned for a long moment, before he went to push himself back up, adjusting his glasses unneccessarily, clearly unsettled.
 
Graverobber watched Nathan, a mix of smugness and amusement on his wide, expressive face. That sound he had made, that wasnâ??t one of pain. No, that was of someone finding they liked something and being, for some reason, surprised that they did.

â??Consider it payback from before. At least I didnâ??t leave welts,â? he said, eyes racking over the bruise appreciatively in what could only be described as a leer. Nathan was so much easier to nonplus when he was the dull old man not the killer that had threatened to hack off his nads (in a good way, he was sure).

The other man never got a chance to stand up properly. Graverobber leaned over, hand lazily splayed on the wood to help him keep balance so he could continue their conversation in this position. â??You still havenâ??t beat me to death with that poker. Why is that?â? His hair swung with his motion as he pressed forward just a little more, stained lips against the bruise he had suddenly become quite fond of. â??Nathan,â? he added mockingly.
 
"That - wasn't me," Nathan reasoned, nearly on his feet, only to find himself being forced back down as Graverobber leaned forward, creating a barrier that prevented him from actually standing. So Nathan ended up leaning back on his elbows, sinking so far into the steps that the back of his head nearly touched one of them, but it did no good because the other man continued to come closer. The body so close to his own was incredibly warm, and Nathan was twisting to try and position himself in a way that kept as little of himself touching Graverobber as was humanly possible without enduring some incredible feat of contortionism.

"Because I don't want to get blood on this carpet," he replied, a comment that didn't sound quite like it should have been coming from Nathan - and then there was a mouth on his throat again, and he his name was being murmured against his skin, and it felt so bizarrely good that it triggered the part of Nathan that told him human contact was a terrible, terrible thing. He shifted, grabbed hold of Graverobber's shoulder, and rammed his knee upwards, aiming for whatever part of the other man was closest.
 
Toying with him shouldnâ??t feel good, but it did. Nathan reacted in such a pitiful way, nothing like the man who had left him pantsless in an alley. He had no choice but to torment the poor man. For a moment, Graverobber thought Repo might actually be responding favourably to him when a clean, well-kept hand yanked at his shoulder.

But no. For some reason everyone and their bossesâ?? daughter wanted to rough him up when things turned sexual.

Unfortunately for Graverobber, Nathanâ??s tweed-clad knee caught him right below the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. With an â??oofâ??, he jerked back, a bad move on stairs. He had yet to find a dignified way of falling down stairs while oneâ??s diaphragm was in spasm (not that he thought many had), so while he stuck out a hand to try and stop himself, Graverobber ended up in a general, breathless pile at the bottom of the stairs.

Silently, though. Graverobber had some empathy, usually when it suited him, and he was aware Repo Man might not want his kid to hear him having a fight with some stranger on the stairs. The man would probably express his displeasure in violent ways. After putting down a tarp, no less.
 
Nathan rose to his feet the very moment that Graverobber was out of the way, and he watched the other man tumble down the stairs and land in a writhin but silent heap on the floor, only the quietest wheezing gasps escaping him. Standing there, Nathan considered the other man for a moment, rubbing irritably at his neck where he could still feel the heat of Graverobber's mouth - he did his best not to think about it, but the residual feeling was enough to send a shudder through him.

He assured himself it was just physiology, he didn't think to blame it on seventeen years of pent up sexual frustration, anger, sadness, or just the slight possibility that some dark, distant part of himself may actually harbour some attraction to the dirty, make-up smeared thing laying at the base of his staircase.

No, it was just physiology. It was just sensation that had sent spikes of heat down his spine.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.
 
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