Ever feel like you can't breath? Like you need to rip your heart out just to stop its insistent beating? Ever feel like you would willingly give that bleeding heart away for anyone to say "I love you"?
I did. And it got me in a world of trouble.
I used to watch the city below from my cramped window, hunching myself so that I could dangle my feet off the side of the building. I had a perfect view of Sanitarium Square from up there. To the left was the ominous and looming GeneCo tower, its many neon lights and floating static advertisements polluting my room with an artificial glow and a popping buzzing sound.
Just to the right of my building was a small, ancient cemetery, completely forgotten with the passage of time. Grave robbers never bothered with it, the bodies too old and close to dust to be worth a vial of "Z". But what they didn't know only benefited me.
Tucked in the far corner of the cemetery plot, only visible from my high-rise window, was my mother. There was no tombstone for her, no way to identify who was there, or if there even was a body. I knew though, and every week on Tuesday I left my perch to adorn her spot with paper flowers and candy. She always loved those hard chunks of lemon rock, and it only seemed fitting to offer them even in death.
I had gone down the previous night, so the flowers still gleamed brightly, a constant reminder. However, that morning, form my window, I saw an unusual sight.
Don't get me wrong; I had seen my fair share of grave robberies, even having sucked the blue goo from the rotting bodies myself. But never had I seen one in my cemetery.
Graverobbers were peculiar creatures. They spent most of their nights pillaging and desecrating tombs, forever eluding the GeneCops, but when it came to actually living, they stayed as far away from corpses as possible. I don't blame them. I may have destroyed a body or two, but never would I willingly sleep in a graveyard.
That's why I was surprised to see one lurking in my cemetery so early in the morning. Surely they knew there was nothing worth taking?
Then I remembered my mother. Her corpse was still fairly fresh, only having been dead a year. How would the robber know she was there? No way they could see my decorations.
Paranoia over whelming me, I ripped myself from my window and tugged on a pair of pants. Making a mad dash for the door I ran the whole eight flights down to the back cemetery access.
I slowed at the glass door, glancing across the alley.
The robber was still there, and from my distance I could clearly see he was a man. His overcoat was long and dark, a collar of fake fur wrapping around his neck and shoulders. His boots were high and heavy, his waist strapped with vials. He turned slightly in his stroll, flashing his white teeth lined with black. His long ratty multicolored hair jiggled around as he walked.
He was milling around, as if waiting for something. Or someone.
I pushed open the door and hopped across the small alley to the rusted gate.
"Hey, grave robber, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" I shouted, plastering on my fiercest glare.
He slowed in his walk, looking around to me. His lips pulled back in a scowl.
"What does it look like I'm doing, Zydrate whore? I ain't got nothin' for you tonight, so fuck off." He turned back, continuing his stroll.
I brushed off his rude and misplaced comments, opting to goad him more. I placed a limp hand on my hip and braced myself against the gate, attempting to get closer to the offending robber.
"What the fuck are you doing in my cemetery? There's nothing but dust here, nothing worth Zydrate," I shouted back.
"Your cemetery, huh?" he replied, not even turning to look at me. "I don't see your headstone anywhere."
"That's because I'm not dead," I yelled, frustrated. I wondered if this robber was stupid or just messing with me.
"Are you sure about that? How do you know this isn't Hell?" he smirked.
"Well, you don't look like the Devil, so I must still be on Earth. So get the fuck out of my cemetery," I growled back. Obviously he was indeed stupid.
"Kid, I'm way worse than the Devil." He turned toward me as he said it, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
With a quick wink and a macabre tune on his lips he slowly left my cemetery.
I hoped he got the message. The last thing I needed was a smug ass grave robber looting my mother. After a lingering glance to where her spot was I slipped back inside, ready for work.
Yay! My first Repo! fanfiction. I was introduced to the world of Repo! by my mother a couple of months ago and have been hooked ever sense. This is my little post-apocolyptic baby for you to read and enjoy. I am hoping it will be about three chapters long, as that is the only way this would ever get finished. Thanks to Forestwater for being my beta. Have fun and make sure to review!
