Disclaimer: I don't own Repo! The Genetic Opera and never will.

Graverobber was never one to panic - or so he kept telling himself, anyway - but the situation he was in at this particular moment didn't seem likely to produce any other response. The GeneCops were hot on his tail, he'd dropped his gun, twisted his ankle hopping over a wall to retrieve said gun, and was now stuck in a dead-end alleyway with no means of escape, a busted leg, and a ribcage which felt like someone had set a fire inside it.

Yes, panic seemed a rather good idea right now.

He took a quick look round the alley, weighing up any possible methods of escape. Walls? Too high. Windows? None. Drainpipes? None, none and none. This didn't look good at all.

However, what there was in the alley (besides the broken glass, needles, and other city debris) was a dumpster. And it was into this that the zydrate peddler, after a millisecond's hesitation, made a somewhat undignified headfirst dive, landing sprawling amongst the reeking refuse as the lid swung closed with a fortuitously quiet thud (unfortunately only fortuitously quiet because it hit Graverobber's head before the rim of the bin).

Lying there stunned, stinking, and with pain shooting through parts of his anatomy he wasn't even sure could feel pain (his hair, for one thing), it occurred to him that screaming at the top of his lungs whilst attempting to sneak around a well-guarded graveyard probably wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done.