It all began with the legalisation of organ repossessions.

Herc Shipwright, together with his three young lovers; Simon, Caitlin and Martin; were the world's most powerful group. Herc indulged his lovers frequently, especially Martin who was his prised sweetheart.

Herc was the owner and founder of ; he had cured the globe of the pandemic of organ failures due to mankind's reliance on drink and drugs; but now almost everyone was in debt.

For those who couldn't keep up with their organ payments, he and his lovers would send in Repo Men.

Repo man…

They slashed open their victims, often while breath still filled their lungs, and removed everything. It was bloody work and they were feared, but kept them anonymous to save their personal lives.


Douglas stepped out of the alleyway he was so fond of with a smirk on his face. He smirked with black painted lips at two of his scantily clad girls before approaching your computer screen. Don't worry; he does it all the time – thinks breaking the fourth wall adds a personal touch.

His long black coat, luckily, didn't drag along the filthy ground that carried the stench of rotting shit and piss, as well as the smell of blood and death that accompanied a new Repo hit.

Out from the night, from the mist, steps the figure.

No one really knows her name for sure.

A figure in a black leather long coat and apron with lock vinyl gloves that buckled to the coat at the shoulders and a black mask with a glowing visor emerged out of thick fog, looking truly horrific.

She stands at five-foot-six, head and shoulders.

He shrugged, knowing how unimpressive her height was, but there was no use saying she was six-foot-six; that was a little unrealistic.

Pray she never comes knocking at your door!

The figure threw away something in their hand that looked suspiciously like an organ, and it made a sickeningly gory squelch as it hit the disgusting floor.

Say that you once bought a heart,

Or new corneas,

Douglas was smirking at you know, as if talking about death was amusing him; or the prospect of your demise, for that matter.

But somehow never managed to square away your debts.

She won't bother to write or to phone you.

She'll just rip the still-beating heart from your chest!

Two employees threw a newly disembowelled corpse into the truck and drove away to dump them in their final resting place.

Repo! Repo!

Diego ran for all he was worth; banging on doors and pleading for entrance, for sanctuary; but people knew better.

Now you could run. You could hide.

You could try to.

Douglas was obviously enjoying this. It was amusing to him.

But she always has a way of finding you.

She will come at your weakest hour,

When no one is around who might rescue you.

Diego ran to the elevator. He'd be safe on higher ground, he was sure!

Repo! Repo!

He pulled down the cover and the lift rose, along with his heartbeat. The beat of his heart, the cause of all this trouble.

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.

The Repo threw open the cover and seized Diego by the neck, slamming him into the elevator wall.

Diego knew he was a goner.

And until our debts are clear,

The Repo slit his throat cleanly, nothing more than a thin line at first but then crimson blood ran down his neck and stained his shirt, not that he cared about his shirt anymore…

We will live in fear of the...

The Repo let him collapse. He fell on his back, drowning in his own blood.

Repo! Repo!

The Repo slit his shirt open with an extremely sharp blade and quickly set to work.

Diego tried to scream, but all he produced was a wet bubbling sound in the back of his throat.

The Repo pulled his heart out in front of him as his vision began to fade. It was dripping and sticky with gore and ooze.

Repo! Repo!

Diego finally gave up on life.

The Repo pulled the gunge, for lack of a better word, off the heart quickly and looked at it through her blue glowing visor in morbid fascination of her work.