Natasha finally got to her lavish, near manor home. Funny, she actually lived near the old Repo man, Nathan Wallace. She had always thought him a little creepy. She had seen Nathans pale daughter, Shilo, from her window…and had seen her daughter sneak out to the cemetery. Natasha was not stupid…no, far from it. That's why she was chosen as the new Repo man. She knew what Nathan was doing, long before that slimeball Rotti Largo aired it to the world like a gossip girl to use to his own advantage. Keeping his 'sick' daughter away from the world…Natasha shook her head at that idea. She had seen 'sicker' folk out on the streets, living their lives. Natasha never got mixed up in it though; she learned at a young age to stay out of other people's business.

After Nathans death, Shilo still lived at the house. Natasha had seen Shilo moving out furniture and picture frames…and at one point, what looked like a corpse. She shuddered, despite her occupation. Was Nathan Wallace really keeping a corpse that looked freakishly like his wife in the house?

Natasha had actually begun talking to Shilo. Mostly because Shilo had one day sat on the rooftop below her bedroom window and played Fear of the Dark by Iron Maiden, and Natasha loved Iron Maiden.

She had pulled out her own guitar and grinded out the tune with Shilo, making Shilo came down from her perch and strike up a conversation with Natasha. Turns out they both loved some hard rock, always wanted to be rock stars, same age…Shilo was doing pretty well for herself. She was working with a library, cataloguing books (she confessed it was mostly to get complete access to books about bugs, her freaky fetish). When asked about how she could do that without an education, Shilo laughed and said "My dad homeschooled me. I have a higher education than most of the kids who went to public schools and I didn't even know it until I went through his files and saw I had a high school diploma when I was 14."

Natasha took that, and also thought 'they probably recognized her from a newspaper and took pity on her.'

Natasha stripped off her clothes and stepped into her claw foot bathtub, turning on Moonlight Sonata for piano by Beethoven as she went on her bathroom stereo. She had a stereo in every room, her music love a near obsession. She had to have music. Always. Even if it was just in her head.

The hot water eased her muscles and seemed to soak down to her bones. She went underwater and stayed there for about 20 seconds.

Images flashed in her head, as they always did after a job. The look of desolation on a victims face as she sliced their throat with the most emotionless face she could muster.

She was wrong about before. She did wear a mask like the last Repo man…only this one was of a monster, someone who didn't feel pain after taking another's life. The monster was cold, merciless, and precise. This monster lasted only as long as the mission did. After that, the human came back…and wept on the inside at what she had become. What she had done…an unforgivable sin. One day she would get over it…one day the monster that whispered in her ear when she wasn't slicing and dicing could take complete control, as it wanted. After two years, she still wanted to be herself. The monster could wait.

Natasha got out of the bathtub and wrapped herself in her plush black robe, then walked down to her kitchen, dark, shoulder length hair done up in a black clip. She pulled down a glass and filled it with ice, then sweet Lipton's tea, and was beginning to walk to her living room to sit down and watch late night black and white television (which was already on…she loved to walk in when the show is already on for some strange reason. Maybe it just felt like someone was waiting for her arrival with open, grey arms.) when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Natasha gulped and looked around. Her house was big and dark, but she knew it like the back of her hand.

Now, Natasha Montoya is not a ninja. She is not even a black belt. She knows how to take someone down just long enough to slice a deep cut in their throat. She was always so careful to make sure if someone DID see her 'at work', they couldn't follow her home. She was thankful for this, otherwise she wouldn't be able to work her legs into the sculpted limbs they are. She quite liked her legs looking athletic, not custom cut for skinny jeans.

Other than for superficial purposes, it was also to prevent someone from attacking her in her home. You'd think a killer could handle someone without a weapon…well, not her.

Pathetic, she knew, but she was a musician, artist, and scholar. Not a fighter. She didn't grow up saying 'I want to take peoples organs!'. Far from it…she grew up a pacifist.

Back to the present, Natasha's jaw clenched and she walked to the living room and sat down stiffly, sipping her tea.

"Nice place you have here."

She nearly screamed and slammed her tea down, jumping up. She went white as a sheet as the blood drained from her face. "Who's there?!" she cried, putting on her best tough face.

A man stepped out from the shadows of her living room, behind a miniature cherry blossom tree she had oh so smartly placed by the door. He had probably seen her walk in, do her dance of victory, put away her tools, turn on DJ Sammy and dance around as she got tea and went up to take a bath. Oh, how embarrassing.

She gulped as she looked him up and down. He was pretty tall, but then again, everyone was tall to her. Handsome, in a creepy, 'I like to hang out in bone yards' way. He was built like he could probably hoist a body or two with ease. Dirty, tattered clothing, even dirtier hair streaked with colors, pale skin and black lipstick-

Oh hell, a Z junkie?

She saw the glowing blue vial sticking out of his trench coats pocket.

"Get the hell out of here, you stinking druggie." She snapped, putting her hands on her hips.

"A murderer is gonna chide me for drugs? This is rich." He said and grinned, crossing his arms and looking amusedly at her huffy face and hands-on-her-hips gesture.

She wrinkled her nose as she smiled inside at his grin. 'Stop being such a girl, he looks way older than you and HE IS IN YOUR HOUSE CALLING YOU A MURDERER!' her conscience said. Natasha clenched her jaw again and stepped back. "Murderer? I don't know wh-"she started, but he walked so quickly towards her she didn't expect it. He pushed her down on the couch and leaned over her, his arms still crossed.

"You don't really think I'd be here if I didn't watch you murder a man. Don't get me wrong, you're a beautiful little piece of work, but I don't need to follow a girl home to get a little action."

She found her jaw dropped a little during his completely shameless confession. "Wh-wh-w-"Natasha began stuttering, an embarrassing habit she received from her father when she got scared or nervous.

"Natasha Montoya, you're the new Repo man, aren't you?" he said, eyes sparking with malice. He just wanted her to say it.

She tried to duck around him, but he put his arms out and blocked her escape, putting both hands on either side of her. She sighed and looked at him…but this time with her 'Repo eyes'. Cold, dead, expressionless.

"If I'm the Repo man, you're not a smart man." She said in a low, gravelly voice, and she could have sworn she saw a little fear in his eyes. She took him by surprise by shooting her hand out at his throat, wrapping her tiny hand as far as she could around his neck. He grabbed her arm and wrenched it off, but she was ready for that and used her leg to kick him in the groin. He stumbled back and she got up, fled to the victrola where she kept her scalpels with lithe speed, and was armed with two scalpels when he got up. He looked at her warily.

"Shouldn't have underestimated me." She simply said and looked at the door. "Now get the fuck out and never come back."

"But honey, you don't even know my name." he said and grinned again. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side.

"One night stands don't need to know each other's name, sweetheart." She said just as sarcastically.

He was behind her before she even registered what happened. He snatched one of her scalpels from her hand and stuck it in his pocket, then whispered by her ear "The Graverobber. If you want to see me, you know where to find me."

She spun around to slice his gut open, but he was gone. The front door was open. She could still smell his scent of freshly dug earth and sweat.