Gerard Carierre smirked, examining the latest of his 'Wanted' signs. Like anyone was really going to pay attention to him when there were bigger things to fear. He began to recite smugly. "Out from the night from the mist steps a figure. No one really knows his name for sure
He stands at six foot six, head and shoulder... Pray he never comes knocking at your door...
Say that you once bought a heart or new corneas... And somehow never managed to square away your debts... He won't bother to write or to phone you... He'll just rip your still-beating heart from your chest!"
"REEEEEPO MAAAAN!" A siren blared through the night as a young woman ran past him, and Gerard felt a stab of pity. One of the over-dues, most likely.
"You could run, you could hide, you could try to... But he always has a way of finding you... He will come at your weakest hour... When no one is around who might rescue you! And none of us are free from this horror...For many years ago we all fell in debt... New body parts were needed to perfect our image... And until our debts are clear, we will live in fear...of the . . ."
"REEEEEPO MAAAAN!" Gerard pulled away quickly as the silhouette of the Repo Man appeared in the distance. One less thing for him to deal with.
XxXxX
Erik Destler pulled a photograph out of the file he'd received and looked at it. Then at his elder son. Then back down at the photograph: Giovanni proudly stacking the remains of three bloodied men into a pyramid. "Repulsive." He said the single word with such venom that Giovanni sank three inches deeper into his chair. He examined the next one with even greater disgust, glaring at his daughter, both the Zydrate-riddled one lying in the street that the photograph displayed, and the Carlotta... Amber lolling lazily on the couch in front of him. His fists tightened the most, however, at the sight of his middle failure, Petrie, peeling off the face of a young woman. "You disgust me," he hissed. "Out. All three of you. Now." They didn't object as they hurried out of the room, and Dr. Firmin stepped in through the elevator, trembling as he handed Erik the clipboard.
"I... I'm sorry, Mr. Destler... I'm afraid it's terminal..." Erik examined the report. So, it was true. The lung damage really wasn't as minor as they'd thought. "You don't have much time."
Erik examined the report for a minute, then slammed his fist down on a button. A Punjab lasso shot down from the ceiling and seized Firmin around the neck. The doctor kicked and squirmed for a moment before hanging limply. Erik stormed towards the elevators, his two attendants close behind him.
"Maggots! Vermin!" he spat in disgust. "You want the world for nothing! Commence your groveling... Erik, your king, is dying. Even Erik Destler cannot prevent this passing. Who will inherit GeneCo? I'll keep those vultures guessing... I'll keep those vultures guessing... I'll keep those vultures guessing!"
XxXxX
Charlotte de Chagny pulled off her gas mask, and fluffed her thin brown curls. Alongside her, her brother, Gustave had already smoothed his blond bowl cut and was pulling out a sandwich and his book of insects. Charlotte traced her fingers along the photograph of their mother, dressed in a creamy white dress and sparkly star-shaped pins in her hair, a faint smile on her lips. "Hey, Mom," she whispered softly.
"Oh, wow!" Gustave gasped, pointing at a little fluorescent bug scuttling along the grave marker of the crypt, right below the words CHRISTINE DAAE DE CHAGNY: AN ANGEL ON EARTH AND IN HEAVEN. "Look, Char! It's a new one!"
"Then get it. What do I care about flies?" Charlotte flipped her hair over one shoulder, like the girls on TV sitcoms did. Gustave nodded, and scrambled to grab his tin can for catching his various insects. But as he did, the bug slipped out the iron bars on the door. "No way."
"Please, Char? I promise this will be quick. It's in my sight! I'll capture it-"
Charlotte gripped his arm, looking him straight in the eye. "Then run back inside?"
He nodded. "And be back home in time." Charlotte carefully opened the door, following her brother. A shiver ran up her spine, and she wished for coverage beyond the pale blue sweater set she was wearing.
"Industrialization has crippled the globe..." a voice crooned softly.
"Enjoy GeneCo's day and nighttime formula of Zydrate." The loudspeakers blared. Charlotte wondered why they bothered putting up a PA system in a graveyard. It wasn't like corpses could use Zydrate.
"Nature failed as technology spread..." Charlotte's head snapped left and right, looking for the source of the deep, arousing voice. She could no longer hear the various announcements about Zydrate, only the mystery man. "And in this wake, a market erected...An entire city built on top of the dead!" A GeneCop passed by and Charlotte pulled Gustave out of the way, behind the grave of someone named Glenn Slater.
And as she turned she found herself staring at a boy, maybe a few years older than she was. His face was a pale marble color, his lips unnaturally dark, or maybe it was the other way around. His hair was tangled and matted, much like the furry collar of his long beat-up coat. He gave her a small smile before turning back to the...the corpse in front of him. Charlotte pulled Gustave into her chest, trying to keep the ten year old from seeing. "And you can finance your bones and your kidneys... For every market, a sub-market grows..." Charlotte's eyes moved between the doors, the GENcops, and the boy, she was sure now, who was a GraveRobber. She couldn't calculate the best time to run. The GraveRobber continued, his soft smile turning into a twisted grin. "But best you be punctual with making your payments... Lest it be you on the concrete below."
He pulled out a syringe and stuck it in the dead woman's nose. Charlotte fought the urge to vomit as he pulled back the lever, a glowing blue liquid filling the vial. "It's quick. It's clean. It's pure. It could change your life, rest assured. It's the 21st century cure," he gave a little bow, rising slowly. "And it's my job to steal and rob GRAVES!" As he screamed the last part, a dozen lights snapped onto them.
"Please, stop!" Charlotte yelled, scrambling to stand, Gustave right behind her. GENcops were beginning to swarm, but the GraveRobber didn't seem to care.
"No! No! No!" Gustave wailed as the door of their mother's crypt slammed shut. "Now what?"
"This way!" Both sibling whirled to see the GraveRobber banging on a grave in the wall. It shattered, revealing a dimly lit mountain of corpses. "Jackpot!" he cried gleefully. "So why care for these petty obsessions? Your designer heart still beats with common blood. And what if you could have genetic perfection? Would you change who you are if you could?" He bent down to draw out a new vial of blue liquid, that Charlotte suddenly realized had to be street Zydrate. "'Cos it's quick, it's clean, and it's pure!"
"No, we shouldn't be here," Gustave whimpered, clinging to Charlotte tightly.
"It could change your life, rest assured."
"We have got to get home..." Charlotte moaned, trying to take his attention off the dead bodies, especially since the smell was starting to make her dizzy.
"It's the 21st century cure."
"This cannot be happening!"
"And it's my job to steal and rob GRAVES! GRAVES!" As he shouted the word over and over, Charlotte felt fingers clamp around her arms, pulling her back into the graveyard.
"Hey! Let go!" She kicked and squirmed. "Please, we just want to get home..."
"Char..." Gustave sobbed quietly. "My head hurts..." Charlotte, too, could feel the symptoms setting in. Her stomach was heaving, her temples were pounding, and it was getting harder to breathe.
"Let them go," a smooth baritone voice commanded over the loudspeaker.
"Hey!" A new voice cut in. Charlotte thought she recognized it, but she couldn't tell.
"Medicate immediately. Blood pressure warning. Blood pressure warning. Medicate immediately." Her bracelet blared with Gustave's in perfect synchronization. "Blood pressure warning."
XxXxX
Her eyes flickered open, and she tried to speak hoarsely. "Dad...?"
"Hey, that was a close one." Raoul de Chagny leaned in, the fluorescent lights reflecting subtly off the high forehead that was the result of his receding caramel brown hair.
"Dad..." Gustave croaked. Charlotte turned to see her brother, his bald head exposed as he lay in bed. Sometimes, it was so easy to forget her little brother's hair was a wig.
"Shh... too close..." Raoul pulled aside the safety curtains that separated the children's beds.
"Dad, what happened?" Charlotte whispered, cautiously pushing herself up.
"You're going to be alright, that's all that matters," Raoul crooned, pressing a hand to Gustave's forehead and placing his stethoscope on the inside of Charlotte's elbow.
"Were we outside?"
"No, Char," he said gently.
"There were these bodies…" Gustave whispered, offering his arm for the same checkup.
Raoul shook his head. "You missed your medicine, and fell unconscious."
"They were all dead…" Gustave insisted.
"Nonsense. Please, be more cautious. You could go into shock."
Charlotte knew Gustave was telling the truth, so how could their father deny it? "But it was real, Dad!" Raoul gave her a very cold look while passing Gustave his blonde wig.
"I am the doctor and I'm your father."
"Didn't imagine this!" Gustave slammed his hand down on a pillow, yanking the wig out of Raoul's hands.
"Please, Gustave, drop it…"
"Couldn't have fathomed this!" Charlotte agreed angrily.
"Please, Charlotte, stop it."
"Dad, we could smell the dead!"
"You could've di- You scared me to death!" The children were silent for a moment, watching him stare up at the portrait of their mother. "The blood disease that took your dear mother from us passed from her, and into your veins. I'd be lost if I were to lose you. I will stop at nothing to keep you safe."
Charlotte carefully rose, and walked over to place a hand on his shoulder. "We'll take our meds, Dad, don't you worry," she whispered.
"Just until I find a cure…" Raoul kissed her forehead. "Christine…"
"Charlotte, Dad."
" I know, sweetheart… I just meant that your mother, rest her soul, would be so proud of you. Though you cannot see her, she is here with you," He handed her two glasses with their pills, beginning to sing the lullaby Charlotte could faintly remember her mother singing almost eleven years ago. "We will always be there for you, in your time of need. Children, you're the world to me." He walked out the door and closed it, and the children heard the jingle of a dozen keys as he locked the door. "Charlotte, make sure both of you take your medicine."
Charlotte gulped down her glass, slamming it on the mantel in fury. Gustave moved towards his miniature piano, balancing his medicine on top. He played out a few melancholy chords, singing softly. "I'm...infected…"
Charlotte sighed, joining in. "I'm infected by your genetics!"
"Gustave, I'm the doctor!" The little boy pointed his finger imperiously, his voice pompous.
"Charlotte, I'm your father!" Charlotte stuck out her chest mockingly, thrusting aside the curtain to let Gustave hover over an invisible form.
"Oh, children, that was close! Take your medicine!" they shouted together, flopping down side by side. "We're infected by your genetics!"
"Charlotte, you're my patient!"
"Gustave, be more patient!"
"You have limitations! Don't go chasing flies! I must be protective! You cannot be reckless! That's what is expected when you are infected! We're infected by your genetics! We're infected by your genetics!" They started pounding on stuffed animals as they sang, trying to release every bit of rage.
"And I don't think that we can be fixed!" Gustave wailed.
"No, I don't think that we can be fixed! Tell us why, oh why are our genetics such a bitch?" Charlotte picked up one of the medical tomes and slung it across the room at their mother's picture in fury. "It's this blood condition! Damn this blood condition! Mother, can you hear me? Thanks for the disease! Now we're both sequestered, part of the collection!"
"That's what is expected when you are infected!" Gustave banged as many keys as he could at one time.
"That's what is expected when you are infected! That's what is expected when you are infected! How much of it's genetics? How much of it is fate? How much of it depends on the choices that we make? He says we have her eyes, did we also inherit his shame? Is heredity the culprit? Can we stop it, or are we its slaves?" They tried in vain to open the doors, sinking down to the floor in defeat.
"We're infected by your genetics!" Gustave let out a desperate sigh.
"We're infected by your genetics!" Charlotte repeated miserably.
"What hope have two kids who are sick? Our dream of a life past this fence… It really makes no difference… 'cause we know that we'll never be fixed…" They stood, identical feelings of anger burning in their veins.
"Tell us why, oh why are our genetics such a bitch?" Charlotte screamed, hurling a pillow at the curtains covering the window, allowing just a sliver of light to escape. "Oh, I want to go outside…. Outside…" she whimpered softly, opening the latch and stepping onto the balcony.
"Oh, I want to go outside…. Outside…" Gustave repeated sadly. Charlotte wrapped her arm around his shoulders.
"We'll get out for good, one day. We were out tonight, we can get out again, I know it."
"But Dad said…"
"He'll find the cure, Gustave. Then we can go to school, and you can show everyone the stuff you write…"
"Only if you're the one to sing it, Char."
"Okay, so, on our to-do list: stop making Dad worry, so he can get the cure, THEN get outside for good."
"And meet Blind Meg!"
"Or kiss a random boy!"
"Do whatever we want!"
"I love you, bro," Charlotte whispered, kissing the top of his head.
"Ew! You have cooties!"
"Shut up."