Graverobber counted his steps carefully. He had not been here in months, almost a year. He slinked towards the mausoleum, crouching amongst the statues near the entrance. Waiting for the flashing lights to pass, Graverobber thought back to the last time he'd scavenged this particular graveyard. He'd met Shilo Wallace that night. Perhaps on purpose, perhaps not.

Graverobber did not like secrets. In fact, seeing people lied to or blinded with fanfare pissed him off more than anything. When he saw Shilo that first time, she looked like any other teenager out causing trouble. But when Graverobber caught her disgust and confusion over what he was doing, it was obvious she was sheltered; lied to. Finding her at Blind Mag's show only proved that further, so he gave her a hard dose of truth then. But had that really helped? Shilo Wallace was one big secret. How was he to know how big?

When he told her about Blind Mag, it wasn't because he knew Rotti's plans. It was common gossip; sick, twisted entertainment, that's what he wanted to show. He didn't know what he was setting her up for, or that he unintentionally led her into Rotti's scheme. He didn't know, and it was that guilt that kept him downtown, away from the biggest mausoleum in the city.

He swatted at a big and watched it flit around his face before zipping out over the headstones. His mouth slid into a grin as the bug's gentle, blue glow tugged at the fond memory. A little girl chasing flies. He hoped wherever Shilo disappeared to, she still had that optimism. The image of her leaving the opera; drenched in blood, tears on her cheeks, but with that strong resolution in her eyes. It was almost enough to ease his guilt, knowing she rose above the corruption instead of crumbling under it.

It was a bad idea to come here. Ten months of distance was not enough time to squash the memories. That kid lost her whole world and he'd helped.

Suddenly, the bug's light went out. Graverobber had been watching it, but in a blink it was gone. He squinted into the darkness and just barely caught a shadow moving between the stones. He settled closer against the statue that hid him. GeneCops were practically multiplying overnight these days. Amber Sweet started a "clean up the streets" initiative. From then on, all new corpses were burned, their ashes swept away. Patrols were maximized in problem areas, particularly old graveyards that still housed bodies. Good for city planning, bad for Graverobber's business. No fresh corpses, no fresh Z. That's why he was here.

The shadow moved again, it stepped lightly, almost silent. As it got closer, Graverobber saw it was a person; small, hooded, in all black. He began backing up. Graverobber didn't want to deal with any baby Z peddlers tonight. He needed a major cash in, not to scuffle with wannabe teenagers.

But before he could slip down from his hiding place, a bell like voice caught him off guard.

"industrialization has crippled the globe…"

Graverobber's breath caught in his throat. That was his song, his pitch. But where he sang it poignant and fiercely, this voice was light, feminine…sad.

"…nature failed as technology spread…"

There was so much pain, the voice broke softly and Graverobber felt his body lock in place.

"…an endless wake, a market erected…"

It was so close. He dared to turn his head slightly. The hooded figure sat on the steps at the entrance to the tomb, maybe twelve feet from him. Her voice carried easily through the still night air.

"… an entire city built on top of the dead…"

Her breath rose and fell. They were his words but this was not Graverobber's song. He watched the girl, assuming the voice belonged to a girl, curl her knees up to her chest and trace her finger around the rim of a jar. The jar flickered with a blue glow.

With a shock that hit him like a slap to the face, he realized there was only one person who could be sitting there.

Singing his song.

Chasing bugs.

In a Graveyard.

"… and it's his job…"

He gasped into his hand, not remembering when he covered his mouth. She'd skipped ahead, choosing to sing about him. She was singing about him?

"… to steal and rob…"

Without giving himself time to think, or reconsider, Graverobber stepped down onto the ground. Pinning his back to the wall he edged closer to her, a little at a time. Finally getting close enough, just a couple feet away, he whispered the final word.

"Graves."

The hooded head snapped up, looking around quickly. She set the jar down on the step beside her and stood. When Graverobber saw her take a step forward, just inches in front of him, he reached out and grasped the back of her hood, pulling it down.

She whipped around.

Graverobber couldn't breathe.

Shilo Wallace stood before him, her big brown eyes boring into his. But that was the only thing that was the same.

He hadn't noticed when she was far away, but Shilo had grown at least three inches. Her face had also thinned, becoming more angular and mature. He hadn't imagined she'd have such defined cheekbones and full lips. She must get them from her mother, same as her hair. Gone was the thick, black wig. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, some stray bits falling from it and curling at her cheeks. A thin, pale scar ran down the side of her otherwise perfect chin.

She wasn't a kid anymore.

Before Graverobber could say anything, Shilo had wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. He froze, not sure what to do. When she pulled away he saw she was smiling broadly.

"I can't believe it's you." She said. He opened his mouth to reply but at that moment a light flashed across his eyeline and he instinctively sunk into a crouch. Shilo followed.

"Come on. This way." She said, snatching her bug jar off the steps before scurrying through the headstones into a dimly lit tomb. Graverobber hesitated before making the choice to follow.

So much for a major Zydrate score.