A prequel to my ongoing fanfic, The Empire; I intended this originally to be a part of the Empire fic, but was finding the placement difficult and unnatural… It just didn't seem to flow with everything else I had in mind. Anyway, this is essentially just how Videl met the Grave Robber and came to be his apprentice and thus more of a backstory on their relationship and Videl in general than anything else.

Based three years after the death of Nathan Wallace and Amber Sweet's rise to power as CEO of GeneCo… the working title is "It's Like A Nightlight," however I'm considering the title "A Needle Into A Bug." Soooo yeah, let me know what title you prefer. I'm always looking for feedback.

I won't be writing the prequel in opera format because I'm considering doing a short comic based on it and singing doesn't translate well to comic form.

Rated M for language, violence, drug use, sexual acts and innuendos, and generally dark themes.

Read and review, I have no time for flames.

A needle… into a bug, a needle… into a bug… a needle…

An ominous, hulk of a man sauntered into the alley adjacent to one of the larger Zydrate Addicts Anonymous meeting halls. Reclining against the cool, slick brick wall of the alley way, almost hidden behind a rusted dumpster he begins to tap his heavy, leather boot against the corner of the decaying trash receptacle.

A shuffling, rustling noise attracts his attention from within the dumpster and a foul odor hits him, a deathly scent he was all too familiar with. Cracking the dumpster's lid just enough to allow a crease of light to fall upon the nude, crumpled, and blood soaked form of a prostitute he frequently sold to, even as recently as the morning of that particular day.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He slammed the bin shut, quietly muttering to himself and crouching down so as to not draw attention to himself or the contorted body of the dead hooker hidden in the dumpster.

He regained his composure and peaked into the bin again, taking in the details of the corpse. Her eyes had rolled completely into the back of her head, her extremities; fingers, toes, hands, feet, arms, and legs in their entirety; had constricted and pulled inwards as though she had been burned severely or dried out, even though her corpse was free of any burns and was visibly fresh, practically still twitching.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed her spine. The source of the girl's blood loss. It appeared as though it had torn itself completely out of her skin during what must have been an unimaginably terrible fit of convulsions.

This wasn't the work of a Repo Man, or a serial killer… This was an occurrence that was becoming entirely too frequent for even the Grave Robber's not-so-delicate sensibilities.

There was a new type of Z circulating the drug using community. It wasn't as clear and didn't illuminate the same way as the Grave Robber's Zydrate. It was cloudy and almost seemed to have small particles floating in the poorly kept vials the new drug was being sold in.

Naturally, the desperate customers, or even the less educated on the subject would purchase it not caring, or knowing any better. Unfortunately, the careless decision did come at a cost.

Occasionally, the new brand of street Zydrate contained a strain of bacteria that would throw its user into a terrible state that had gained some notoriety, but was only referred to as "The Fever."

Now Grave Robber, being a man of optimism, believed that the sellers of this new strain had no intention to kill off their own consumers, only they had no idea how to properly harvest the Zydrate from the thousands upon thousands of corpses they had available to them at any given time.

This was what disturbed Grave the most, not only the unlimited supply available in the future for these novice drug dealers, but rather the potential amount they may already have stolen and stored.

More and more frequently in cemeteries and mass graves, the Grave Robber had been finding the heads of corpses crushed or removed completely, indicating the reckless methods these imposters had been utilizing.

The feeling of the imposter Zydrate is supposedly nearly indistinguishable from the Zydrate the Grave Robber had been selling for years… but within an hour of using the drug, a chill would completely engulf the user. This would be followed by a torrent of cold sweats, the victim's temperature soaring far beyond what would normally kill a human, but still feeling freezing cold and managing to stay alive. At this point, the user has usually removed all of their clothes in the hopes of cooling down while still shaking and shivering violently.

The hot and cold flashes, shaking, and general loss of all cognitive faculties will continue for at least two more hours before the user finally collapses as their body begins to contort and twist beyond their control, forced into a violent fetal position, the bones in the wrists and ankles begin to snap and the ligaments in the calves and forearms tear and retract beneath the skin. The akeles tendons in the ankles snap and contract deep in the musculature of the calves.

Throughout the height of pain, the user has become far too dehydrated to scream for pain and typically end up vomiting all over themselves, often asphyxiating before the climax of the self-inflicted condition… those who are lucky.

The final culmination of chaos and pain within the body of the afflicted user always seems to be the body self-destructing as the brain and other most vital organs begin shutting down, the body throws itself into the most violent convulsions yet until, while unable to move from the forced fetal position, the spine snaps and explodes out of the back of the unlucky buyer.

An injection of saline during the early stages of the Fever often flushes the bacteria from the body, but by the time the convulsions begin, the user is beyond saving as any needle attempting to slowly pierce a vein and inject the user with cleansing saline would simply tear any vein it enters asunder during the violent spasms.

The Grave Robber sighed and closed the dumpster a final time as the ZAA attendees began to exit the building across the street from where he stood.

Several of the admitted addicts approached him to pick up their quick fix and be on their way, while an older, visibly worn addict pulled him to the side, motioning for him to speak with her.

"Look, Grave Robber… I was supposed to meet up with my girl at the ZA meeting… you've dealt with us before, you know, uh.. she's got blonde dreads and dark roots… the left side above her ear is shaved… uh.. she just bought a new set of peepers.. bright blue… You uh.. you seen her anywhere?" The older junkie itched herself as she spoke, not completely making eye contact, a cigarette burn on her neck making the Grave Robber want to roll his eyes at the utterly cliché situation, but then his mind returned to the hooker he sold to earlier that day, the one with the black dreads, undercut, and bright blue eyes.

The one who was bragging to him about being able to pay off half of her six month payment plan from a client that promised her money and more 'Z' later that afternoon.

The one whose spine had exploded out of her own back and was rotting in a dumpster not two and a half feet away from the drug dealer and the corpse's junkie friend.

He sighed deeply. "Naw, sorry, Donna. I couldn't help ya there…" He reached deep in his pocket and pulled out a small, glowing, blue vile and handed it to her. "Get outta here. The heat's everywhere."

"B-but.. uh.. I'd.. I don't have any uh.. money." She shook visibly as she looked at the vile in her hand.

"On the house, Don. Get lost."

She didn't need to be told twice and, with that, she vanished into the seedy darkness of the night.