An Ordinary Night
Rating: T (for gore)
Disclaimer: "The time has come," said the Walrus, "To write another story. The characters do not belong to the Author. Except for Rodger. Now leave her be."
Author's Notes: Yup! Another Repo! fic. And, of course, it's about our favorite Legal Assassin. Let's here it for Nathan!
New York was nothing short of destruction and blood in the year 2056. Men and woman were running to hospitals and emergency rooms, clamoring to be on the other end of the scalpel. Only to become genetically perfect and have no physical flaws. Or so they thought.
A figure clad in a black leather suit was perched on the top of a building. His eyes, obscured by blue lenses, gazed at the walking citizens below with a sense of calm indifference. A beeping sound interrupted the figure's sight-seeing. A black gloved hand pressed a button on the gray band on his wrist.
"Roger Marcus has neglected to pay his debt for his lung transplant," an old, authoritative voice echoed slightly throughout the night air, "Collect Geneco's property."
With a sigh, the figure shut his Band-Phone off and slowly stood up. With a groan, he stretched, arms above his head. A hand came down to rub the patch of skin the bucket-like helmet didn't cover on his neck, "I'm getting too old for this." He jumped off the building to land on a covered dumpster. The figure didn't see if anyone heard the loud 'CLANG.' No one ever hangs around the Repo Man when he's on the job.
Rodger Marcus ran as fast as he could through the dark alley way. Cold sweat doused his body as his mind worked frantically for a hiding spot. He let out a small scream when he saw a flash of black in the corner of his left eye. Next thing he knew, a vice grip was attached to his neck, cutting off his air supply. Rodger was slammed to the brick wall, eyes bulging in fear.
The Repo Man held his client by the neck with one hand while his other dug into his black bag. Grabbing the silver scalpel, he sliced Rodger's neck. The man let out a choked gurgling, grabbing his neck as he slid down to the filth covered pavement.
Repo Man ripped open Rodger's flannel shirt to reveal smooth skin. The scalpel cut cleanly into the flesh, blood spurting through the wounds. Repo Man whistled a nameless tune as he dug his way through the organs to his target. He stopped whistling to hold out a pink and blood-covered lung. Repo Man examined the organ, turning it in his hands. There's the bar code. Satisfied, he placed the lung inside the cooler side of his bag. With one final look at the mangled body of Rodger Marcus, the Repo Man turned his back and set off to drop his load.
Rotti Largo was a man of authority. He created GeneCo, and saved thousands of lives with his organ transplants and surgery cosmetics. But he was getting older. His gray hair and deeply set stressed lines showed that. Rotti knew that he would have to give his company to one of his three children. Preferably Luigi, his first born son, who was currently sitting in a lounge chair, reading a 'Evening Slice' magazine. His second born, Pavi, was staring lovingly at his own reflection in his hand-held mirror. His new face was his only center of attention. Rotti's third born was his daughter, Amber, having recently changed her last name from 'Largo' to 'Sweet.' She had decided to become the next singing sensation, and she needed a stage name. Amber was stretched over the couch, examining her new, surgically made, hands. Amber had an addiction to surgery. She couldn't get enough of it.
Rotti read the contracts and charity funds that were placed on his desk. He saved these thankless victims. Why should he waste his money to help little Beth Ann from being killed? Everyone dies sooner or later. A loud 'DING' made Rotti look at the elevator. The doors slid open to reveal a middle aged man wearing black, thick-rimmed glasses. His clothing consisted of an old-fashioned sweater vest and a pair of khaki pants. In his hand, a cooler, stained with blood, was letting wisps of cold air into the room.
Rotti smiled pleasantly, momentarily forgetting about the papers, "Nathan, I see you have recovered our goods." The man, Nathan, said nothing, face stoic. He walked over to Rotti's desk. Nathan placed the cooler on the desk, eyes never leaving Rotti's face while he opened it. He pulled out the newly-recovered lung, wrapped in cellophane and cleaned, and plopped it onto Rotti's papers.
Rotti grimaced slightly. Disgusting. He plastered a fake smile on his mug, "Well done, Nathan. That is all for tonight." Nathan picked up the cooler and walked back to the elevator. He pressed the button to Ground Floor and held Rotti's gaze until the elevator doors closed.
Rotti repressed a shudder. He glared at the organ on his desk. The ice had started to melt and his papers were soaked. Rotti snapped his fingers. One of his female guards marched forward and grabbed the lung in her hands. She turned sharply to a wooden door and went through it, closing the door behind her. Rotti leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply. His kingdom was ever-growing. And it was tiring.
Nathan Wallace slipped through the secret passage behind the fireplace and closed the trick door behind him. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was starting to get a migraine. Nathan sighed before setting is glasses back in place. He made his way up the stairs. Walking past his room, Nathan stopped at a dark oak door. He opened it. It was clearly a young girl's room. Posters of different rock stars hung on the walls, a pink carpet covered the floor, and a large bug collection occupied a desktop.
Nathan made his way over to the pink-sheeted bed, eyes resting on the dark haired girl who was currently sleeping. He sat on the bed and brushed the hair from the girl's eyes. She stirred, then opened her eyes to reveal sky blue. "Dad?"
Nathan smiled softly, "Hey, Shi. Sorry to wake you."
Shilo Wallace sat up, "I thought you had another patient?"
Nathan made sure his sorrow didn't show in his eyes, "They sent me home early. Not that many people came in today." He kissed her played with her bangs, "Did you remember to take your medicine?"
Shilo nodded vigorously, "Yep. I remembered."
"Good," He kissed her forehead, "Goodnight, Shilo."
Shilo snuggled into her blankets, "'Night, Dad. I love you."
"I love you, too, Shi," He tucked her in before getting up. He paused at the door to watch her for a moment before turning off the light and quietly shutting the door.
Nathan shut the door to his own room, turning the light on. The dresser and bed were as plain as the rest of the house. Nathan slipped out of his everyday clothes and put on his blue and grey striped pajamas.
He rubbed his temple and winced. The migraine was back. Stopping for a short detour to the bathroom for some aspirin, Nathan laid down in his bed. He stared at the empty spot beside him. He stared for some time. He sighed. Nathan took off his glasses and set them on the night stand beside the bed. Rolling over, facing away from the empty spot, Nathan Wallace and the Repo Man fell asleep.