Warning: Gore, angst and drama llama. Nathan x Repoman Nathan (I know, it's madness.)

"Bahaha!" The loud laughter echoed down the halls, making Nathan flinch. He wondered why Rotti always had to be so loud all the time. Stopping for a moment to compose himself, Nathan stepped into Rotti's office, Repo mask in one hand, a small cooler in the other.

"Well, I got him." The dirty blonde said gruffly, placing the cooler on the table. Rotti spun around in his chair and eyed the man before glancing down at the cooler. "Well done." Was all he said, signaling the man away and turning back in his chair.

Nathan huffed and quietly stormed out, hand gripping his mask even tighter. He slid it on as he exited the building, heading towards home. 'Ugh, I hate him...' Nathan thought. 'I wish he would appreciate all the work I do for him..."

Then, suddenly, a thought sprung up not all his own. 'That guy was a bitch to handle, almost made me cut myself.' He sighed, ignoring it. Rolling his shoulders, he stepped into the hidden underground section of the house, glancing around at all of his tools, mystified that he barely remembered using any of them...well, ever.

The voice in his head told him not to worry, to get cleaned up and go check on Shiloh. But...for whatever reason, he didn't feel like listening to it this time. He walked over to the surgical table and took off his gloves, sliding his bare fingers across the cold steel. He felt a slight ache in the back of his mind. Regret, maybe?

His own feelings had become such a mystery to him as of late. However much it worried him, he tried his best to ignore it.

As he gripped a scalpel, memories started flooded back. Dark, foreign memories that looked more like a slideshow of gore he wasn't completely familiar with. He grasped his head, closing his eyes and trying to make them go away.

He thought of Shiloh, of Marni... Anything would be better than having to deal with this horror. The dirty blonde slid down the side of the cold stone wall, hands still clutching his tired skull. He mumbled something, a single tear sliding down his face."Oh, why..." He whispered, clenching his teeth.

"...Why me?" He groaned, head jerking upwards, tears falling off his reddened cheeks. Minutes passed quickly as he drained his body of tears and his mind of pain. And soon, a feeling of elation took hold of him. It was familiar, warm...And he had felt it so many times before. Whenever he became passionately upset.

Slowly, he looked up, eyes glazed over, quickly drying tear streaks covering his pink cheeks and his mouth slightly opened. He seemed to be thinking of something, not paying attention to reality at all. Then he tilted his head downwards, a grim smile contorting his lips as his eyes regained focus. A new aura surrounded him, not one of a broken man, but one of a man in power.

"Oh, Nate, Nate, Nate..." He chuckled lowly. His demeanor had changed completely, from a sobbing, terrified man to a calm, dark shell of a human being. Eyes glinting mischeviously, he stood, picking up the scalpel and putting it between his teeth. He slowly unzipped his black jacket, letting it drop to the stone floor lazily."Can you hear me in there Nate? Can you...feeel me?" He growled, voice low and venomous.

"Well, how about now...?" He grabbed the scalpel with his right hand, and he slowly, ever so slowly, slid the edge of the blade down his left arm. Pain rocketed through his body, his spine and neck tingling and his brow dampening with sweat. The pain was sharp and sweet, horrifying and terrible. All at the same time.

The conflicting emotions and sensations left the broken man inside of the monster a wreck, fragile and begging for mercy from his own body. No, from his other half.