I did get one positive review on for the first chapter, so thank you animepanda63 for your feedback. :) Now, I look forward to hearing what all the rest of you who I know are reading this think.

Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 2 – Goodbyes from Ghosts

Graverobber was not the kind of man who cared about others. In his line of work, caring was not only unnecessary, but dangerous. You get attached to your clients, and the next day you find them dead in a gutter, especially with the Repomen running rampant slashing out people's innards. So Graverobber didn't care, he didn't get attached. When he offered help to others, like he'd done for Shilo, it was either to repay a debt (getting her caught in the graveyard) or because he wanted something. Of course, Graverobber admitted to himself that helping Shilo those few times was more out of curiosity than any sense of honor. Her innocence fascinated him; he'd never met anyone that naïve and sheltered. She was a stark contrast to everything his life was, and that made her something worth paying attention to, if only for a short time. He felt no sorrow when she disappeared; he didn't get attached.

And that, though it led to a lonely and gloomy existence, worked for him. He was happy with things the way they were; he was the submarket, a provider of a much needed commodity. Therefore, he was needed, and Graverobber liked that. He liked that the addicts waited for hours in the damp alley by the Zydrate Support Network for him to show up with his little glass vials. He liked how the scantily dressed women fawned over him, caressed his clothes, his face, his hair, for a hit of Z. He liked it even better when one of them would show up without any credits to drop in his pockets, when one of them suggested an adjacent alley for some privacy. He'd liked it most when that one was Amber Sweet, but that was another story entirely.

Graverobber was happy with his job. He was happy before Shilo came, after she left, and he was determined to remain happy now that she'd returned. But that look on her face kept popping up in his head. Her delicate, innocent features pulled apart in a snarl as she launched herself at him, trying to claw out his eyes. He wasn't scared of her, God no. He knew she wasn't strong enough to hurt him, but the old Shilo would never have had the guts to try, not for something as imbecilic as calling her "kid." The woman that had returned, wearing the little girl's face, was drastically different from the child who left, yet she still looked haunted by the same ghosts, the same anger. This bothered Graverobber for some reason.

She used to be so…innocent, pure, he thought, grimacing at the thought of her new harsh expressions, and that cold, mocking laugh.

"Zydrate! Get your zydrate!" he announced sarcastically to the addict filled alley, imitating the ways of the average street vendors.

He handed out the blue vials quickly, stuffing the credits they tossed at him into his many pocketed coat. Today, he wanted to do things quickly, no time for trading favors in the side alley. Graverobber knew it was dangerous for him to be out on the streets when Luigi Largo learned Shilo had come out of hiding; he was sure the badly tempered man knew of his brief association with the girl and would likely come looking for him, wanting information on her return. The drug dealer was no hero, if Luigi found him, Graverobber would cough up what he knew with little persuasion. He may be fascinated by the girl, and distressed by her change of character, but that didn't mean he had any intentions of getting himself killed to protect her and her stupidity. Yet he did not want to be the one to get Shilo killed, so he decided to avoid that situation if at all possible.

The last zaddict skittered away, their precious blue vial clutched between filthy palms, and Graverobber left his alley, pockets loaded, to find a place to lie low until things had blown over.

Of course, Shilo wasn't going to let him do that. Shilo had decided it would be an excellent idea to come out of her safe little house to find him. Shilo had decided to come out during the day, her black hair and easily recognizable face boldly uncovered. Graverobber could have hit her when he rounded the corner and saw her standing there in broad daylight, arms crossed, dressed from head to toe in black: tight black t-shirt, black leather jacket, scruffy black jeans, black combat boots, black satchel and huge black sunglasses, like those would make her identity any less obvious.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he exclaimed angrily, realizing that she was not nearly as smart as he'd given her credit for. "You're gonna get us both killed!" He grabbed her arm, easily wrapping his long fingers all the way around, and yanked her back into the alley.

"I came looking for you," she explained, seemingly irritated by Graverobber's hand tugging her farther into the darkness of the Zydrate Support Network street.

"Congratulations, you found me," he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He let go of her arm, having drug her back behind his favorite dumpster, so they'd be safe for the moment.

She rolled her eyes at him, removing her sunglasses, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips. "Thanks, I just followed the smell."

He barked out a short laugh, still disconcerted by her rough new attitude. He didn't know what he was supposed to say next. Did he send the kid away or try to hide her from Largo? Just leave, his instincts whispered, ignoring the faint pangs of his small, abused conscience.

"What do you want, kid?" he asked tiredly, sinking down to the filthy concrete, his back against the dumpster.

Shilo stood over him, a scowl marring her beautiful face. "I told you to stop calling me that. I'm not a kid anymore."

Well she certainly doesn't look like a kid, he thought, his eyes appraising her slender form. She looked far less sickly and much more attractive than she had before, but then… "You're seventeen. You're a kid."

She laughed harshly sliding down to sit beside him. "I'm eighteen."

This startled him a bit. In his mind, Shilo was a perpetually innocent, naïve seventeen year old girl. Now it seemed along with her age, everything else about her had changed. Graverobber was one of those people who prided himself in handling change very well, you had to be able to adapt when you lived a life like he did, but Shilo's case was unusual. She'd become the comparison, the pristine object that all could be held accountable to because none were as pure as she, then the dove had been released from her cage. Now the dove sat beside him, just another raven. He was both utterly impressed and completely unsettled by this alteration. It was like someone had done surgery on her soul and they'd removed all the most interesting parts. Now she was dark and hollow, just like everyone else.

He grunted. "Eighteen huh? Some birthday I bet. Dumpster dive for a cake?" His snide voice covered his confusion easily. It was hard for people to tell what you were really thinking when you were being cruel. They only saw the cruelty.

But Shilo didn't flinch. "Yeah," she responded, her voice devoid of color. "It was awesome." She had a faraway look in her eyes, like she was thinking of happier birthdays, birthdays where her father was present to tell her how proud he and her creepy dead mother were of her. Graverobber guessed those were probably some of the best memories she had of life, and even those were twisted.

But Graverobber had himself to think about, and he knew he didn't have room in his dark heart to care about another person. So, he stopped pitying her, remembering the trouble she could get him in. "So, Shilo, are you trying to get me killed on purpose or was that part just an idiotic oversight?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" This was the last thing he expected from her. People never cared enough to say goodbye to him. He was just the submarket, just the robber and the dealer. He watched from afar the mistakes and plights of others, rarely getting involved or caring to. The heroes never spoke to him before making their epic mistakes; he was just the grave robber.

"Yes, and to ask you," Shilo added hesitantly, pushing a few credit into his hand, "In case I don't see you again, if you ever find my father's body, to put it with my mother's. They should be together." She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "And, to say thank you, for getting me caught in the graveyard that night and for everything else. You may be a crazy, sick bastard but your screaming that night started me on the path to my freedom," her voice turned darker, "for whatever the hell that's worth."

"You're going after Luigi," he stated, still a bit confused by the whole conversation, but covering it well. He could see the fear in her eyes, but he forced himself not to comment on it. Best not to get more involved, he told himself.

"Yeah," she answered, though she knew it wasn't a question.

"Try not to get killed, kid," he said, though it was pretty obvious that she thought she was going to. He stood, dusting off his pants and offering her his hand. She growled, glaring up at him menacingly. "Shilo," he corrected with an eye roll.

She allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Do my best," she muttered back.

Graverobber watched as Shilo Wallace walked out of his alley for what was likely, the last time, and tried not to let that bother him.

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