Change the World
Chapter 1: Meanwhile...
By: Farren O'Blivion
BLOOD OPERA FEUD!
Was the whole thing over a woman?
GraveRobber snorted as he read that evening's headline. A blood saga of old grudges and scorned lovers... How did we ever get here? His eyes scanned the nearby crowd swarmed around a drum-fire. Sometimes I wonder why we don't all move on! He focused on a slumped figure by a dumpster, his mouth twisting into a caustic smile. The person, androgynous in gender, was obviously dead.
We all end up in a tiny pine box... or a mass grave... He shook out his paper and began humming to himself. It's a mighty small drop in a mighty dark plot. And the mighty fine print hastens the trip to our epilogue!
He quickly read the rest of the article and turned the page.
LARGO LEGACY UP FOR GRABS!
Wallace defies Rotti's Will!
GraveRobber's eyes widened briefly before he burst out laughing. A couple of Z-heads nervously looked up from the fire. It was never good when The Grave Robber laughed; his laughter was dangerous. They glanced over their shoulders, peering into the darkness of the alley, anxious for whatever threat was coming at them to make itself known.
GraveRobber didn't notice, his gaze being riveted to the snapshot of Shilo in the paper. It must have been taken at the opera; she was a mess! Pale arms, shoulders, neck and face smeared with blood; bits of fake snow tangled in her hair, sticking in the blood. She was standing in a doorway, large eyes looking back toward... the stage, maybe? Her father's corpse?
GraveRobber's smile faded. Poor kid... having her entire world torn, crumpled and thrown back at her in the space of a night. I wonder if she— Abruptly he cut himself off, shaking his head to clear it. Such thoughts wouldn't do. The kid would be fine; after all, she wasn't living on the streets, she didn't need to scrounge for her next meal. She had a house, with a kitchen! She'd be fine, just fine...
He tore his gaze from her printed face and went back to the article.
So, the little girl fled and the king is dead. And the castle is left for the taking... He chuckled darkly, amused at the thought of Amber, Luigi and Pavi fighting for control of GeneCo. Talk about a blood-saga! But still, GraveRobber mused. GeneCo may survive if it undergoes surgery. His lips quirked up as he resumed his earlier humming, his booted foot tapping out a little ditty on a nearby garbage can. Surgery...surgery... Surgery!
GraveRobber practically skipped through the cemetery, shrouded by early morning mist. Whistling a jaunty tune, his holster of Zydrate vials heavy with a fresh harvest, he jumped up as he passed under a tree and tagged a branch. He landed silently, despite his heavy boots, and smirked to himself. What's that they say about the fog coming on little cat feet?
A truck rumbled by on the street, it's squealing brakes effectively shattering the night's quiet. Doors opened and slammed. GraveRobber immediately hunkered down behind a decrepit headstone, cursing to himself. GeneCops!
"Miss!" a man called. "Miss!"
Grave Robber frowned in confusion. Miss? I didn't hear any gunfire... He peered around his granite shield in vain; the fog was dense.
"We've brought them, Miss! And I've got a message for you!"
The thief began to creep from his hiding place, noiselessly slipping behind another headstone closer to the voices, curious now despite himself.
"I'm here!" The feminine voice was low, almost too quiet for GraveRobber to catch, but he recognized it instantly.
Kid... Shilo.
He quickly moved to another spot, closer, silent as a shadow. The fog was cut thin by several blazing torches and he was able to make out a handful of milling figures.
They are GeneCops! GraveRobber could see their armored uniforms, face-masks glinting in the light.
"The graves have already been prepared," Shilo informed the men, emerging from an old crypt directly across from the hidden GraveRobber. She was holding a long-stemmed rose in a tight fist. "Please... just be careful with them." Her voice was so soft, an exhausted lilt to it.
The nearest GeneCop handed her a small card. "Yes, Miss. Would you like us to meet you back—"
Shilo shook her head at him, her eyes scanning the card. "No. No, I'll wait here... until you're done." She handed the card back to him. "I'll allow it. But they must follow through."
Who must follow through? GraveRobber wondered. And with what?
The GeneCop merely nodded. "Yes, of course, Miss." He motioned his fellows forward. They came, four of them, bearing the weight of an elaborately carved wooden casket on their shoulders.
Shilo watched them pass, face impassive. The GeneCops maneuvered through the door of the crypt and set to work. "Wait!" the girl called suddenly, rushing after them. "Open it."
"Miss?" the lead GeneCop questioned.
"Open it," Shilo repeated evenly. "All of them. I need to see them."
"Ar—are you sure, Miss?"
The teen turned to face the man and nodded once, decisively. GraveRobber sucked in a surprised breath at the girl's fiercely determined expression; her face seemed... harder, leaner; as though the clinging softness of her youth had simply melted away. There was a new, rather defiant set to her chin. She seemed almost austere. She was no longer the doe-eyed innocent he'd dragged through the underbelly of the city, that much was obvious.
Well, Daddy's not around to protect her anymore, GraveRobber reminded himself. She's all by her lonesome, now.
At their leader's signal, the four GeneCops inside the crypt pried open the casket lid and stepped aside for Shilo. The girl gazed down on the body inside. "My mother," she said, and pointed at an open grave. "There." The GeneCops obliged.
Shilo turned back to the leader. "I'll see the others, now."
He led her over to their truck where two other coffins awaited burial. "Blind Mag," he cautioned her, gesturing. She nodded and he opened it. GraveRobber couldn't see from where he was crouching, but he imagined Mag was more at peace in death than she'd ever been in life. Shilo did not seem too horrified at Blind Mag's appearance, at any rate. After a few moments, she nodded for the leader to close the lid. The other four GeneCops arrived to take her away.
"The right one, please," Shilo said as they lifted the casket up on their shoulders.
"Yes, Miss," they murmured in assent as they passed.
"Could... could you give me a moment... alone, please?" Shilo asked the leader, her small hand on his arm, head inclined toward the final casket. He silently followed after his men.
GraveRobber watched as the girl, suddenly so slight in her dark clothing, hefted the lid to Nathan Wallace's coffin. He expected tears and whispered words of farewell, broken and choked in agony. He did not expect silence...
As Shilo gazed upon her father's face, her silence seemed to grow, to envelope the rest of the world, for suddenly, GraveRobber could hear nothing but his own breathing, so loud, heavy. Rushing, tumbling over his parted lips in gasps. Her silence was suffocating!
Shilo sighed. She placed the rose she'd been holding atop her father's chest, brushed a lock of hair from his brow, back into place. She closed him in and turned away.
"I'm finished!" she called. "You can take him now."
The GeneCops quickly acquiesced as their leader approached Shilo. "The others?"
"In his... repo-room."
"Amazing how many he took with..." he trailed off under Shilo's fierce glare. He cleared his throat and straightened his back."We'll clean up as soon as we're done here."
"I want it sealed off, that room." The girl's hands curled into fists at her sides. GraveRobber could just make out a slight tremor in her limbs, stark against her aphotic clothing.
"Yes, Miss."
"And stop calling me 'Miss'!" she burst out, voice echoing her shuddering body. "I have a name!"
The other GeneCops poked their heads out the tomb door at her shout. GraveRobber pressed a hand against his mouth, clenched his teeth over his laughter, swallowed it. Their confusion with the teen was palpable even at this distance. Shilo Wallace... expect the unexpected.
GraveRobber calmed himself and settled more comfortably behind the headstone, stretching his legs out. His fingers tapped lightly in the dirt as he hummed quietly to himself, a song he'd been taught as a child. The sound of the GeneCops at work in the tomb only added to his song.
T'was brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe!
A/N: Wow... this is bad. It was supposed to be up yesterday, but I was edit-happy. Didn't do any good though. :(