GRAVEROBBER

I leave Shilo alone for the rest of the day. She needs time to rest, and I'm not exactly the one to go to when comforting advice is needed, The only comfort I know how to give is the sweet shock of the Z. So I leave the pistol with Shilo, tell her to lock the door, and head off for the graveyard with a case under my arm and a Zydrate gun in the pocket of my trench coat.

My boots crunch gravel as I sneak around the enormous concrete building. With the ever-increasing death rate in our society, there stopped being enough time to give everyone a proper grave. Indoor cemeteries were built, where corpses got a tomb or coffin of their own only if the family paid a fancy price for it. Otherwise, the dead were stored in mass graves. Bodies were literally buried under bodies.

Which meant one thing for me - jackpot.

I couldn't enter right through the main gates. Well, I could. But I didn't want my brains splattered across the countless signs reading GRAVEROBBERS WILL BE EXECUTED ON SIGHT. So I picked my way around the back of the building and crept through a just-big-enough hole in the wall, lugging the case along with me.

"Ah, beautiful," I say, taking the view in. Corpses welcomed me like old friends, and I knew that the mounds of unburied bodies were teeming with Zydrate just waiting to be extracted. I step over a few tattered remains and kneel down beside one of the bodies, setting my case on the ground and opening it up. I pull an extraction needle from my other trench coat pocket and stab it up the shriveled nostril, filling it with the blue glow of fresh Zydrate. Once it's full, I switch out the tube in the needle, setting the full one into the case with care.

I repeat this many more times, winding my way through the maze of the dead until my case contains about twenty full tubes of Zydrate. A good harvest, for sure. Plenty to satisfy the Addicts for the night. I used to have nothing but a small leather pouch, but with money to spare to figured it was time to upgrade carrying capacity. By the time I leave the cemetery, It's evening already. In just a few hours, it'd be time to head out to my alley. But first I must return home and make sure Shilo is still safe. It's incredible the amount of paranoia that can arise from trying to keep someone alive.

I'm in luck - one of GeneCo's trucks cruises by as I step out on the street. I hop on and hitch a ride for a few blocks, jumping off when the truck passes by the Wallace house. The only light on inside comes from Shilo's window. Way to be discreet, kid.

I unlock to door and stride inside, "Kid!" I call out, trying to hide the irritation in my voice.

"Graverobber?" I hear her voice, and she sticks her head around the corner of the stairs.

"You can't leave your light on like that. You might as well invite Amber right in," I scold.

"Sorry," she says, blushing in shame.

"You're seventeen. Use your head. GeneCo is ruthless."

"I know," she admits, "I wasn't thinking."

"From now on, try to keep the lights dimmer, at least," I feel like I'm pretending to be more mature than I really am, which is sort of a nice change. I've never really been responsible for anybody but myself before.

Shilo grips the pendant on her necklace, fiddling with it nervously, "Okay."

"And stay inside."

"I know."

"And don't let anybody inside but me."

"You're not my father," she snaps at me. She seems to recoil from herself at the word father.

"Yeah, I'm not a Repo," I retort without thinking. The kid's eyes go wide, and she whips around, running back upstairs and slamming her door.

"Whatever..." I grumble, trudging up the stairs at my own pace. I go into my room, setting the case down carefully where it will wait until a darker hour. The Zydrate gun stays comfortably in my pocket, while I return the extraction needle to its rightful place. I can hear Shilo's crappy television blasting an old Blind Mag performance at a horribly scratchy volume, but it still doesn't disguise the sound of her sobs. Maybe I should go talk to her. But what would I say? Like she said, I'm not her father. I'm Graverobber. A drug lord. A trickster. And I'm pretty good in the sack (if I do so say so myself). But I'm not nurturing worth a shit.

I lay down on the bed and pass out with blissful ease. I spend a lot of time sleeping. There's not much else to do, really. The time between collecting and selling the Z is usually filled with exhaustion and boredom, so I sleep it off.

I dream of blue beetles and memories of Blind Mag's death on television, how she smiled as she gouged her own eyes from her skull. How she'd rather face death than GeneCo.

SHILO

I wipe my tears away a while later, and carefully creep out of my room. I tiptoe to Graverobber's room and press my ear to the door. Snoring. Seriously? He fell asleep? Fine, I don't have to apologize until later.

Just as I'm ready to slip back into my room, I pause. There's a tug in my chest, urging me to go downstairs. And I know just where it will lead me. But now that I'm back here, back home, I know there's no better time than now.

I stop at the top of the stairs, feeling as if Luigi Largo himself is going to burst through the front door and kill me. When no murderous GeneCo members appear, I make my way downstairs and approach the door, making sure it's locked. It is. I then turn around slowly and face the trick fireplace. It's like I can hear the screaming of my father's victims. I cover my ears and take a deep breath, forcing the illusion out of my mind.

The secret room calls to me, daring me to explore the site of my father's legal assassinations. I run my fingertips over the stone and hesitate. What good would it do me to re-enter that dreadful place? Wasn't there a reason my father hid it from me my entire life?

But I knew, for whatever reason, I had to enter. I couldn't let fear hold me back from anything anymore. Everyone I cared about was dead. GeneCo wanted to harvest me for my healthy organs. It was about time I took control, before I wound up dead along with Blind Mag and my dad.

I turned the pyramid on the mantle, producing a loud clank. I gripped the edge of the stone and shoved the fireplace aside with all my strength, surprised at it's weight. I guess my father never wanted me to discover it on accident merely leaning against the fireplace or something as ridiculous as that. He put a lot of thought into "protecting" me.

I feel like I've opened the gate to Hell, and maybe I have. I take a tentative step inside and shiver. A few more steps deeper within, and I am faced with a dusty reflection of myself. I blink, staring at the cracked mirror across from me, which hangs over a sink covered in rust-colored stains. This is where he cleaned up to do the deed. I turn right, and there is the tray of surgical tools. This is what he used to rip still-beating hearts from their chests. And there is the vertical table splattered with bloodstains. This is where he killed them. Suddenly, I feel trapped, suffocated in the truth. I knew my father had been a Repo Man, but I'd never seen true evidence of it until now. Would I have ever even known of this secret extension of the house if Graverobber hadn't known about it and hidden me in here?

Almost the very second I re-emerge from the room and slide the trick door closed, there's an urgent knock at the door. I cringe, frozen in terror. Who could it be? The sound was light, sharp, not like Amber's furious pounding. If it was Luigi or Pavi, they would've had the door busted off the frame already.

I peer out the window around a curtain. Our visitor is not Amber, and doesn't appear to be a GeneCo employee. But looks can be deceiving. Still, the blonde woman standing with an impatient look on the doorstep appears harmless, for the most part. She's wearing a white corset with black lace and a black skirt with torn tights. She looks fairly young, but with GeneCo's operations, someone can look twenty when they're over fifty. Maybe she's an Addict, coming to speak to Graverobber? I know he told me not to let anyone in, but my instincts tell me she's not out for my organs like everyone else seems to be.

She knocks again, and I realize I've been staring at her and doing nothing. I let the curtain fall back into place and step over to cautiously crack the door open a few inches.

"Hello?" I ask, not opening it far enough for her to enter.

"Shilo? Is your name Shilo?" she looks back over her shoulder nervously, "Can you let me inside? So we can speak?"

"Tell me who you are and state your business," I demand, "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"My name is Eris Rigoti," she tells me, "I need to talk to you."

"The last strange woman who needed to talk to me ended up impaled and missing her eyes," I say, "What do you want?"

"I can't talk out here. Let me inside."

"Fine. But I have a gun," I blurt out, trying to seem threatening, even though the pistol Graverobber gave me remains upstairs and I don't even know how to handle it. Warily, I open the door all the way and let the woman inside. She steps gingerly around me, never taking her eyes off of mine. For a moment I wish Graverobber would wake up and run downstairs, demanding she leave. But I'm still not picking up a dangerous vibe from her. Only unease. Plenty of unease.

"Okay, why are you here?"

"Shilo, I knew your parents."

The gravity of her words hits me so hard my gut twists. Not just my father, but my mother, too? I suck in a deep breath, refusing to break down in front of her. "How?" I question.

She clicks toward the stairs in her high-heels, taking a seat on the second-to-last step. With a heavy sigh, she looks up at me. I stay rooted to the spot, waiting for her to speak.

"I worked for Nathan in his lab, when your mother was sick. He was trying to find a cure for her."

"I know," I say, my voice flat, "He was trying to save her, and he ended up killing her. I've heard the story. It was a mistake he could have avoided. Careless."

Eris shakes her head vigorously, causing her hair to fall out of place. "That's not entirely true."

"Wait, what?"

She sighs again, "It wasn't your father's fault Marni died. Technically... It was mine."

I take a step back, "What do you mean?"

"Shilo, you know your mother was very sick. And your father loved her very dearly. Do you really think he would be so careless as to mix up such important chemicals?"

"I don't know," I respond grimly. Sometimes I wonder if I ever really knew my father at all. He lied to me about being a Repo Man. He poisoned my medicine to keep me inside, "safe" from the world. I know very well now that nowhere is ever safe. I loved my father. But in the end, all he did was cage me like an animal.

"Marni's death was not Nathan's fault," she insists, "It was Rotti Largo who killed your mother."

I take a moment to let this sink in. I'd been told my whole life that my mother had died of the same blood disease that I had supposedly "inherited". Only at the Genetic Opera had I discovered the truth. It explained all the times I'd heard him talking to her pictures in the halls, guilty, apologizing countless times to her image. Begging for forgiveness.

Still, it certainly seems like something Rotti Largo would do. After all, he was the one who shot my father. He was the one who murdered him.

"How?" I finally ask. not sure what else I could say right now anyways.

Eris swallows hard, "When I worked for your father, I was also a loyal employee at GeneCo."

The word loyal is what sticks in my head. People who are loyal to GeneCo, faithful to Rotti, are no less than dangerous. They carry out orders with unquestionable obedience. And I know the demons that swam inside Rotti's mind. I can only imagine what deeds he would have carried out through his employees.

"Shilo," she continues, "did you know your mother was once in love with Rotti Largo, before she met Nathan?"

"No," I say, and my voice comes out sounding like a protest. I can't believe that my mother ever loved someone like Rotti. Ever. But then again, a few months ago I never would have believed I had a godmother, or that my dad was no more than a doctor. Life was full of unpleasant surprises.

Eris nods. "Marni and Rotti dated for quite some time. It seemed like they had the perfect life. But then your mother met Nathan... and she left Rotti for him, got married, and soon she was pregnant. With a little baby girl. You."

I sit on the stair beside her, afraid of losing my stability. I'm trying to grasp what she's telling me; trying to wrap my mind around it all.

"Rotti wanted revenge. And he got the chance. When Marni got sick, and Nathan was trying so desperately hard to find a cure... and I was working for both of them."

"So what did you have to do with my mother's death?" I ask.

"Well..." she avoids my eyes now, "Rotti knew that your father was working on a cure. And he knew I was working with Nathan in his lab. So he ordered me to..." she trails off, but I'm not about to let the story stop there.

"Ordered you to do what?"

"To... switch out one of the substances in Nathan's cure for... poison."

For a moment, I just sit there. I don't know what to say. She's staring at me, her eyes begging me to forgive her. "I've wanted to tell you that for years, Shilo. But I never could, not with Rotti still alive. He'd have me killed if I spoiled his revenge."

I nod, like I understand. But really, my whole world has been ripped apart into even smaller pieces than before.