Author's Note: I've been chewing on this for a month or two. I think it's finally where I want it. If you don't like it, blame my housemates for allowing me to post such drivel- they're the only moral compass I have. Oh, and "Repo! The Genetic Opera" belongs to TZ, DS, DLB, and Lionsgate.

"Kid? Is that you?"

"Probably not." She didn't look up, even when a shadow fell over her. Her back was to the wall, and there was a knife in the hand that didn't hold her scavenged bag of chips. "Go find your own dinner." The shadow didn't move, and finally she glared up at the person casting it. "I said go away." The figure was backlit, and if there was something familiar about him, she couldn't tell. She had met a lot of people in the past year.

"Huh." The figure crouched in front of her, the hem of his long coat folding over on itself as it touched pavement. "It is you in there, after all."

"Look, I'm not really in the mood to talk right now," she said, gripping the handle of the knife more tightly. "So if I don't owe you money or something, could you please just go away?"

"Owe me?" he said, and there was a hint of a smirk to his voice. "I think that's debatable." Finally Shilo looked up, and after her eyes adjusted to the shadows on his face, she realized she did recognize him.

"The grave-robber," she said. "Right. Nice to see you again."

"It's been a while, Miss Wallace." One corner of his blackened mouth quirked upward.

"Yeah, I guess so," she said. "I'm not really sure what you think I owe you for-"

"Maybe saving you?" he interrupted.

"Saving me?" She laughed. "Thanks, you're clearly my knight in shining armor. Sorry I can't repay you, but this is really all I have." She gestured to herself with the bag of chips. His smirk took on a more predatory look, and the bitter smile dropped off her face.

"Here you go," she said, shoving the chips into his chest, and feeling some small satisfaction when he lost his balance slightly. "My entire life savings. Enjoy my meal." She tried to stand, but he held her down with a hand on her shoulder. She could probably slice his arm pretty good, but she had never actually needed to use the knife before, and she didn't like the thought of cutting into another person. Anyway, he didn't seem to be about to attack her. He actually looked concerned, for lack of a better word.

"Are you okay, kid?" he said.

"Peachy," Shilo snapped. He smiled at her answer, which only annoyed her more.

"So what is the famous Shilo Wallace up to these days?" he said, with his hand still resting on her shoulder.

"All sorts of shenanigans," said Shilo. "But you probably wouldn't be interested."

"Wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know," he said.

"Well, now the famous Shilo Wallace spends her time job-hunting and dumpster-diving, because she lost her job when the diner closed down, and her apartment when she couldn't pay rent. It's very glamorous."

Graverobber nodded. "Everyone's gotta start somewhere."

"Bullshit. I started somewhere. I had my own life-"

"And then life bit you in the ass," he interrupted again. "It happens. You're just gonna quit now? You're young, you've got a whole lifetime ahead of you."

"However long that is," Shilo muttered. "I don't believe in do-overs."

"I'm not talking about do-overs," Graverobber said. "I'm talking about moving on."

"Moving on to what, exactly?" Shilo said. "I've got nothing left." She broke eye contact with him to stare at her knees before continuing quietly. "I was supposed to change the world, you know?"

"This is how you're going to change it?" Graverobber actually sounded a little disgusted. "By upping the total of unemployed saps in this city by one?"

"And what's your contribution to society?" Shilo retorted, dropping the reserved tone. "Supplying a quick fix?"

"I never made any promises," Graverobber said, finally letting go of her shoulder. "You know what, fuck it. Do what you want." He stood and started to walk away, but then he turned back to her. "What happened to you, kid?"

What had happened to her? Everyone who read the papers knew what had happened to her, provided they hadn't forgotten about That Night at the opera (which they probably had). But she knew he meant since then.

"I grew up."

Graverobber stalked out of the alley, shaking his head. Whatever she had done during the past year or so, growing up wasn't necessarily on the list. So she had gotten and lost a job and a place of her own. Drops in the bucket.

She lost her dad, you asshole.

Better off without him.

Clearly.

Yeah, well, he had done just fine without a father (his present occupation and living conditions were totally legit!). Parents… they were okay up until you could fend for yourself, and then they were just as likely to fuck you over as kiss you good night.

What was this kid doing to him? He hadn't thought about his family in… well, a while, anyway. Though maybe that was why he had helped her out in the first place. Maybe he just wanted to show her… what? That parents were shit? That it was better to earn your own credits than rely on someone who already thought they were worth more than you? Maybe. He didn't know, and he was pretty sure he didn't care.

So it's fine if she ends up like you, as long as she hates her dead father?

Instead of dwelling on that, he let himself be distracted by the single-serving bag of Utz Potato Chips he held in his hand. He had neglected to drop it after the kid- or grown-up- had shoved it at him.

My entire life savings, she had said.

Kids are dramatic, he thought. Still, he wasn't hungry, and her eyes looked like the biggest part of her. He could forget his pride for two seconds. He walked back to the alley where he had left Shilo, but she wasn't sitting against the wall anymore.

"Did you come back to bug me?" The voice came from the other end of the alley, whiny and bitter. He looked up and there she was, silhouetted, short hair sticking out at odd angles. "I don't owe you and I'm not going to fuck you, so just-"

That was it. As if he was begging her, when he could get it easy from any other woman he ran into! He didn't think. He just acted.

In half a second the bag of chips was on the ground and he was stomping the little Utz girl's face into processed potatoes and oil and pavement. The bag exploded, but he kept stomping until he was sure that what might once have passed for food was now just dust. Then he was still.

Neither of them spoke as he turned and left the alley.

Very nice, he thought.

Shut up, he answered himself.