It didn't seem right.

Somehow, being in Nathan's house, the dwelling of the most famous Repo Man that GeneCo had ever hired, set Graverobber on the tips of his nerves. His coat hem, frayed and filthy, dragged across the sleek floor as his footsteps echoed off the hardwood and into the darkness. There wasn't much light, seeing as the maids had all ran off after hearing of Nathan's death. No point in waiting around for a new job when your previous employer can't recommend you. Jobs were hard to come by and it wasn't getting any easier to hold one; anyone would think that, with all the death related to GeneCo and organ failure, there would be a demand for living bodies, but that wasn't the case.

"Kid?"

Graverobber's voice rang through the hallways he couldn't see, slipping around corners and up the staircase. Resting his hand on the cool wood of the banister, the dealer glanced upward, able to see a slice of hallway and a room with a partly closed door. No lights, just shadow from the moonlight streaming in through the windows that sat so close to the ceiling that Graverobber had first wondered if there was a crack in the roof. He wasn't used to ceilings, or much shelter of any sort. Already, the dusted furniture and polished flooring were reminding Graverobber he didn't belong here. A man like himself would never be allowed in this mansion if the world hadn't just been turned upside down.

No one had heard from Shilo in nearly a week. It had only been that long since the fall of the most influential corporation of the world and the death of it's best employee. Her father had more influence with the Largos than he would ever know, than Shilo could ever harness herself. To offer a little girl an entire company, to even dream of handing the lives of millions over to a teenager who had never left her house until the plans had been set in action to snag her away from her father... Ridiculous. GeneCo needed to be taken care of by someone who cared, someone like himself. Not so much about people, but about money. Caring about people was a waste of time and time was just as important as money. They both made the world go 'round. And you couldn't forget Zydrate.

No, some people wanted Zydrate more than they wanted money or more time. That was why he was in this business: Zydrate wouldn't go away, not as long as surgery was needed, and there was always a demand for new organs. Graverobber knew he would never be put out of business as long as he harvested what he needed to get by. The problem was that it just wasn't what he wanted to do anymore. Management was more interesting than harvesting Zydrate and dealing with the living was more interesting than the dead. If there was a chance he could do something else, to put his life on a different path, he would take it: Graverobber always had a plan. Here was GeneCo, within his grasp...

"Kid!"

There was a slight rustling at the top of the stairs and Graverobber set one booted foot upon the first polished stair. Should he go upstairs? It was bad enough to have broken the lock on the back gate, to trample through the rosebushes and come in through the front door. The girl had left it unlocked. Who knew what could have happened to her by now if she had left the door unlocked for nearly a week? It was no secret that Nathan Wallace had died and that he had left behind a vulnerable, misguided girl. Graverobber knew too many bastards out there who would love to take advantage of the situation; he had met and taken care of a few too many out there in the dark world. A body is a body, after all. But wasn't he taking advantage of the situation, as well? Wasn't there a question, a plot, on the tongue that clicked against his teeth as Graverobber waited for a sign Shilo was still in the house?

The rustling faded and Graverobber took his foot off the stair, feeling ridiculous. As much as he didn't want to admit to himself he wasn't just here to see how the kid was doing, it was the only excuse he had. Nathan's presence, and the presence of his wife especially, was strong in the house. He didn't rob houses, just graves. There wasn't a way Graverobber could convince himself yet that the fact Nathan was in his grave gave him a right to rob the mausoleum this house had become. The girl probably wasn't even here, anyway. The death of her last parent had given her the freedom to do whatever she wanted to; Shilo was probably out learning about the world in all its jaded glory.

Let her, he thought. The girl deserves more than what she had before. It wasn't right to be in cage all one's life, even if it was a large one with silver candelabras and bug collections.

A moan, nearly faded by the time it reached Graverobber's ears, flitted down the staircase from the open door upstairs. Not the slightest bit hesitant, he ran up the stairs, glowing vials clattering in his pockets. Something hadn't seemed right before and it definitely wasn't any better when Graverobber reached the door to what was a bedroom.

The first thing he noticed was the bed in the center of the room. A lacy canopy drifted in lazy folds down to the floor, stuffed animals on the bed, a small glass case with bugs inside resting on the bed stand, and a lamp with a pink shade standing guard over the dead insects inside their clear prison. Graverobber felt like that lamp as he stood over Shilo, the young woman flat on her back on the floor. She was the second thing he saw when opened the door on it's gliding hinges. It didn't seem proper for her to be sleeping on the floor but, even in the moonlight that lit the night like the glow illuminated the inside of Graverobber's pockets, the man could tell there was something wrong with the way Shilo rested.

Kneeling beside her, Graverobber noticed the window was open from the cool breeze that ran across his face, just like his hand swept the stray strands of dark hair from Shilo's cheek. She was cold, too cold to be comfortable in any way, and she was dressed in the same clothes she had worn when Nathan had died. The dealer didn't bother to notice the bloodstains that remained on the fabric, just the chill liquid that was seeping through the fabric of his pants and staining his skin. He had knelt in blood.

"Kid? Shilo?"

She had promised Nathan she would change the world for him, but what was there to do when her entire world was her father? Graverobber cradled the hand that dripped with the crimson liquid he had never been squeamish about until that moment: there was too much blood for one little girl, too much. This girl, who had been offered everything, had tried to kill herself. Feeling for a pulse, fingers flicking against the willowy neck that was so still at his touch, Graverobber swore. She was still alive.

Shilo had never really succeeded at most anything she did, anyway, and Graverobber hoped this held true tonight as he reached into his jacket for a needle and thread. He wasn't about to let his last chance to live a better life slip away, not when it's heart still beat.

Before you assume the obvious, I think we should have a little more faith in Shilo... Hint, hint... Many parts of this story will be misleading and seem to be obvious, but once the story gets going, you'll find much more than just the words before you... Happy Reading!