Scar's and Knives
A Repo! The Genetic Opera fanfiction
By: Butterfly Wolf
Disclaimer: I only own Scar. Everything else is owned by the creator and producers of the movie. I make absolutely no money.
Authors Note: Please review, I'll go up to about three chapters, and if there's no review than that means it probably shouldn't stay up. Reviews means updates. Please read, enjoy, and review! First chapter is always kinda crappy, so please stick with me. Also! There is mention of Amber/Luigi, Amber/Graverobber, Pavi/OC, Graverobber/Shilo so…stay on guard!
Chapter One: Introductions
Well, my name is Scar. I'm seventeen, and GraveRobber's assistant. I'm Amber Sweets sworn Enemy and Pavi's best friend. Rotti Largo's nameless intruder, and Luigi's nightly bitch fit. I have a rather large scar that runs over the top of my eye, starting at the forehead and ending at my cheek. I also have SCAR carved into the underside of my left forearm, my most distinct characteristics. Although the one across my eye is hard to miss, I'm sure not many people to you with scar's would be something so memorable. Well, from what I know, you don't live in the world of GeneCo, where every imperfection, from birth to death, can and will be removed and surgically adapted. Most people find scars and imperfections now days as some kind of oddness, or disease almost. Well, hell, Pavi's face is all botched and scarred up and he steals faces to cover it he's so embarrassed by it! That's how fearful this world seems to be about scars and imperfections. But I'm not. No, in fact I hate GeneCo and all their cosmetics and covers, despite my involvement with its children. GeneCo has created a whole society where people have lost the meaning of consequences. Originally, years ago when I was but a baby, the world ran on consequences, where if you drank too much, your liver failed, if you smoked cigarettes, you'd get lung cancer. A world where people (for the most part), paid for their actions in the end. People learned that in the end, we are alone, with nothing but what we did do, haven't done, and couldn't have done to haunt us. Not anymore. Now the world runs on money and debts, the Repoman and the Surgeons. And this is the story about how me, a little'ol Zydrate dealer, got thrown into it all, and the consequences I will forever pay for MY actions against the great and impowered Amber Sweet.
"Show me the dough, and I'll show you the "Z"." I commented dryly, watching the scalpel slut wither at my feet, pawing at my belt line. I'm rather short for my age, so her actual face to about my abdomen.
"Come on, sweety, there's got to be some other way we can do thisss…You've got to keep that "Z" somewhere on your person…how bout I just rub until I find it, hmm?" I tried not to sneer. Briefly, I thought about merely throwing her off, but then a rather wicked thought struck me. I had been watching too many Classic movies and hanging around GraveRobber, for a devious idea entered my head, a scene I thought I could mimic a bit from an old movie.
Letting my leather gloved hand slide into her hair (cause if it wasn't gloved, I wouldn't have touched it), I lightly pressed her head against my clothed flesh, a grin spreading across my face.
"What bitch, you think Imma let you get off with just rubbing me? You gotta do better than that." I growled, spreading my stance slightly. Of course, the whore instantly got the jest of my hint and started mouthing at my crotch, and I had to once again force my lunch back down, secretly making plans with a bleach bottle.
"If that's what you want, hunny, then that's what you get…" She whispered, her hands slowly, seductively running up my pant legs toward my belt. I tolerated it, for a moment, grinning and moving my fingers through her hair.
"Ahh, but what about what you want, my dear? What are we gonna do about that…" I questioned lightly, making sure none of her filthy fingers actually made contact with my skin.
"Mm…you know what I want…" She moaned, her hands actually starting to undo my pants, and here was where the game ended. Roughly, using my well hidden strength, I threw her off of me, laughing sadistically.
"You make me sick!" I laughed, giving her sprawled form and insulted face one last look before turning the corner, quickly fixing up my belt as I moved onto my next alley, hopefully attracting a better class of customers.
"Didn't take you for the fuck and leave kinda guy" Commented GraveRobber dryly from the shadows, and, of course, nearly making me jump a foot in the air at the suddenness of his appearance.
"Ugh, save your scary shit for dead-beats. And you know me, I don't kiss and tell." I muttered back, finally getting my belt back where it should be, the Zydrate held securely by it at my hip.
GraveRobber gave a bitter and rather loud laugh, his boisterous personality coming out in all of his actions. Still grinning ear to ear he came to walk by my side.
"Kiss and tell, hmm? What'd she do, get to your belt and throw herself off? Your that small, hmm? You and sluts really don't mix well."
Of course, at the slight banter, I grinned, even though I saw the impending doom as we turned down the corner. Here, in GraveRobber's signature Alley, was the signature name of Scalpel Slut, and my sneer was instantly on my face. Amber Fucking Sweet, and her two little body guards. Our eyes briefly met as she rubbed herself against one of the slightly dressed men at her side.
"Well, since me and sluts tend not to get along too well, dear Employer, I think I'll leave this Mistress to you." I said quickly, moving to turn around and head to some other back-way. But, unlucky for me, GraveRobber caught my arm.
"Hang on now, Sweet is going to want to Sweet talk me, so you stick around and sell out while I'm busy with her." He whispered quietly, indicating to the rather large crowd of Zydrate addicts huddled in the Rehab alley.
I groaned, GraveRobber letting go of me to strut slowly over to Amber, my sneer firmly in place as I watched the scene. I had a deep feeling this wasn't going to end well. Mainly because I wasn't the kind of guy that was able to keep his mouth shut around people he didn't really like. And although that was usually fine in my line of business, Zydrate addicts don't give two shits what you call them or say to them, just as long as they get their hit, Amber Sweet was different. Even if she didn't remember you mouthing off in her heightened state, one of her little man sluts would, and slander was a punishable act.
Still sneering, I shifted my leather trench-coat to get my Zydrate gun out, pushing one of my vials into it.
"Alright Ladies, Happy Hour is in, give me your cash to clock in and I'll give you your shots to clock out!" I yelled loudly, instantly surrounded.
"Me first, stupid cunt! Here Scar, hit me good." Moaned one, after shoving another to the floor. I raised an eyebrow, aiming at her juggler. I wasn't one to flirt with them and hit their thigh veins like GraveRobber.
Speaking of GraveRobber…
In a small corner, against a wall, Amber Sweet was…handing out some of her Sweetness for a hit, my friend easily falling into her trap, literally. I sneered at the sight. Man, you'd think the guy'd have higher standards than that. Then again, in our business, there really is no high standards. Your surrounded by nothing but sluts, people willing to do anything for a hit, and it disgusted me. Like GraveRobber, I often wondered why I ever got involved. But then I always realize, there's no other life I'd rather prefer. I'm not a person who wants a calm life, or a rich life. I don't want things handed to me, I don't want to work my whole life to achieve a decent job, I don't want to come home to the same shit every day, I don't want regularity, and I don't want constants. I want adventure and danger, I want a real life. I'm not a zombie, I'm alive and happy with it.
And with that in mind, I let out a laugh.
"Remember Ladies, I don't accept coupons, you pay with CASH now or never!" I yelled, my gun getting low from the continuous shots.
In the dark corner…
"Graverobber…" Moaned out Amber, pressing her hips against his. He grinned down at her, his eyes amused.
"Yes miss Sweet?"
"I need a favorr…" The R was drew out like a sinful purr as she rubbed against him, obviously trying to distract him from her next words. Although his eyes glazed a little bit, they did little more, his frame staying the same.
"Yes?" He asked, making sure his voice wasn't wavering.
"I need a hit tonight, in my room. And I need it late." She whispered against his mouth, her eyes fluttering at him. Graverobber had stopped buying it however, the seriousness of the words sinking in and was now looking at her rather boredly.
"Then buy a whole vile." He stated simply, shifting a little away from her.
"Havent the money on me, and I know how you are about…" her hand trailed down to his crotch, making his eyes briefly widen. "…punctuality." Grab.
Graverobber closed his eyes.
"And your solution?" he asked, grabbing her wrist and removing it, expecting some kind of fit from the rejection but getting none.
"Come to my room and give me some."
Graverobber sneered.
"My face is posted all over the city, wanted by your dear daddy's force. I'm not walking into a trap." He growled, his eyes quickly moving away from her dilated ones. He had his limits, the girl could go fuck herself. He had whores all up and down these streets willing to pay him to stick around and he wasn't giving up his working hours to go get her a good buzz – it'd be a rather stupid financial move.
Amber though, was starting to throw that fit he had originally expected.
"I'll pay you extra and give you some!" She growled, going to force his face back to hers. But Graverobber sneered at her and pulled away, his sneer quickly vanishing back into his amused look, trying to make it out that the woman hadn't phased him.
"Sorry dear, but your all checked out." He muttered, about to turn around.
"THEN SEND THAT LITTLE SCAR FACED BRAT YOU KEEP!"
She finally yelled at him, getting the attention of not only Scar, who looked up rather alarmed, but also several buzzed out addicts at his feet.
Graverobber turned then, very slowly and with a very angry look upon his face.
"You'll get my answer."