Smack It.
Grave Robber stood over a new corpse in his regular hit spot. With a frown he knelt down to a once beautiful corpse. Just by looking at her, he could tell she was full of it. Full of what he made his daily bread on- zydrate.
"So beautiful, too bad though. She's just a bug, and all I gotta do is just smack it." he thought to himself as he reached for his zydrate kit.
Normally, Grave Robber didn't get too emotional on the job, heck sometimes he enjoyed the sneakiness of it. After all, he'd been doing this job for years. For some reason though, this particular woman... no she wasn't a woman anymore, she was a Z goldmine.
"Just a bug!" Grave Robber chastised himself. "Only a bug!"
The woman's corpse's lifeless eyes seemed to stare straight through him. He sighed prepared to smack it, then a thought popped into his head.
"Think of the life that she had... why she died the way she did. Do I really want to think of her only as a bug? I knew her- that b-bug, but there's a chance that I knew all the other bugs and I never thought of them like this before," he sighed, "and this is my living; my daily bread. If I stopped to think about every bug's life, I wouldn't get a penny's worth of Z."
Deep down in a place where Grave Robber long ago told to shut up and die, an unsettling feeling came . Memories flashed of how he and her were. Every moment, even her death, came fizzling towards the front of his mind. Standing, he looked at her, long and hard.
"You're just a bug!" he yelled.
"You aren't her anymore! Just a rotting shell! You're not her soul, her smile, her laughter! You're just her face."
The corpse's eyes maintained their gaze, the over populated graveyard looked peaceful in the dim light of the moon and shrouded by fog. Only one thought posed in the living visitor's mind: Why did it have to happen to her? Why her? The only person he oever loved like that and here was her corpse... reminding him of her. Some irony he was thrusted into.
"You know," Grave Robber mused, "that one British dude would love this... what was his name? Shakelet? Steaksphere?"84
Silence. In all his years of being a necromerchant he became used to the silence, excluding a few run-ins with Gene-Cops. But now, for some reason, he'd give anything for noise. Any noise that would distact him from what he had to do. It had been a few years since he heard Amber's voice, and he wouldn't of cared if it was that screach that warned him of her comming when she was mad.
"Good times." Grave Robber looked around sadly. "Had to end sometime."
The end of the Largo reign ended when Luigi Largo finally snapped, and murdered everyone in the Largo mansion- including himself. That was during the dark period after what the reporters deemed the Bloody Final Show of Rotti Largo.
"Then the kid had to get surgery." he thought bitterly.
It was a new type of surgery, a memory procedure. It was said be able to give or take memories from a person. Shilo knew the surgery had a low sucess rate, and an even lower survival rate, but she thought it was worth it. She died the next day, in his alley way, after complaining about a headach to the stupid sur-gene. 'Give it a day' is what that quack told her.
"If he would have listened he would of found the blood clot," Grave Robber seethed.
Coming back to the present, Grave Robber remembered the task at hand. Kneeling down once more he reached for his kit.
The next night, a small time Grave Robber found the same body.
"You look like a good canidate." They said.
Pulling out the needle, the gun, and the little glass vile: they smacked it.
"Jackpot."