Disclaimer: I own nothing from Repo! The Genetic Opera. Assume this statement extends to the whole fan fiction.
Author's Note: Enjoy this next installment! Nothing epic happening in this chapter, either. It does feature a shirtless Graverobber though ;) As always, I would love it if you reviewed!
The light of the early morning filtered through Shilo's thin curtains. She hadn't slept well at all in the aftermath of what she had seen at the opera.
She lay there for maybe an hour before she heard a light knock on her bedroom door. "Come in," she said.
Clare poked her head through the door, seemingly unsure of whether Shilo was actually awake. "Morning, kid. Did you sleep at all?" she asked as she entered the room.
"I didn't really sleep that much; maybe a couple hours," she said with a yawn.
Clare tentatively sat on the edge of the bed and looked Shilo over. "How are you feeling physically? I would imagine that was taxing for you."
Shilo rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and sat up against the mound of pillows. "I don't feel sore or anything. Should I?" She asked worriedly.
Clare shook her head. "No, I was just curious whether you sustained injuries that you couldn't feel with the adrenaline in your veins. Anyway, I looked over your pills. I've got a bit of a plan to wean you off of them so I can minimize your withdrawal symptoms, okay?"
Shilo nodded and rubbed her temples, trying to get rid of the sudden headache that plagued her. "Are we going shopping today?"
"Yes. I've got some clothes that should fit you for the time being. We'll go to a thrift shop or something and find you a wardrobe," Clare said as she placed a shirt and pants on the end of the bed. "You'll have to wear your shoes from last night, I'm afraid."
Shilo nodded solemnly. "Do you have a hat or something I could wear until I can wash my wig?"
"Actually, I came in here last night to check up on you, and I found it on the floor. I've got it in the kitchen soaking in some soapy water right now. I'll dry it off for you before we leave."
"Thanks."
Clare stood back up and gave Shilo a comforting look before leaving. Shilo got up and dressed herself in the fairly modest clothing that Clare gave her. She wiped the blood from her shoes and put them on, trying not to think about the source of the crimson color.
She navigated the hallways and made her way to the dining room where Clare had a plate of toast and a cup of coffee waiting for her. Shilo sat down and nibbled on the toast, watching Clare comb the snarls from her own wig.
"There," she said, handing Shilo the wig, "I think I got the worst of the tangles out of it."
"You really didn't have to do that, you know," said Shilo, situating the wig on her head.
Clare shrugged and poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting across the table from her.
"How can you afford such a big house?" Shilo asked without warning.
Clare laughed and replied, "It's a long story, kid. You probably wouldn't enjoy hearing about my past. I can tell you about Graverobber and his exploits, but not much about myself."
"What about Graverobber?" Shilo asked as she took a sip of her coffee.
"I trained him."
"Trained him to do what, exactly?"
"Why, I taught him to extract and sell Zydrate, of course! That's all he does anyway, isn't it? I taught him the mechanics and how to evade the damn GeneCops. I can't say he got his sense of style from me, though. That was inborn," she said with a smile.
"Wait, then why did you ask if I was a Z addict?" she asked.
"That's the first commandment for Z dealers: thou shalt not use thy own product. Seriously, it's addicting from the first hit. None of my dealers are allowed to be addicts themselves. I can't do business like that; I've got class, you see," Clare replied.
Shilo was surprised that this woman was some sort of drug lord. "How did you get into the game?"
"And so we return to your original question. I helped develop Zydrate. The drug is licensed under me. It's patented by me. GeneCo pays me royally for its supremacy on the legal Zydrate market. I get monthly payments from the company, and they keep the exclusive right to sell it legally. I used to be a mortician, and I noticed that the recently dead had this blue liquid. I experimented with a couple rats and noticed its painkilling ability."
"You created Zydrate? That can't be possible," said Shilo incredulously.
"You're looking at one of the bitches that invented the most addicting substance currently known to man. It's a little anticlimactic, isn't it?" she asked with a smile.
"Um, yeah. Why did you train Graverobber to get Zydrate illegally then?"
"It's simple, kid. I wanted more money, so I taught a couple people to harvest Zydrate for me. They sold it and I skimmed some of the credits off the top. I was making almost a hundred universal credits for each dealer per night. I had it made; I still do."
"Wow, I didn't peg you as the dealer type," said Shilo in disbelief.
"That's part of my power, kid. No one expects the woman who lives in the big house to have a connection with the illegal Z trade. To be honest, I wouldn't give a shit if they did. As long as people stay out of my way, I'm happy."
"Speaking of Graverobber, where is he?" Shilo asked, looking around.
"He's taking a shower in a guest room. He should be out shortly," Clare said, taking a sip of her coffee.
As if on cue, a shirtless Graverobber walked in nonchalantly. His usual greasepaint was washed off to reveal slightly tanned skin and dark eyebrows. Shilo couldn't help but stare at his bare chest. He was dusted with hair, but not a dog. Flat planes and ridges of muscle danced under his skin as he moved. Tattoos depicting a grim reaper and something written in Latin adorned his back. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he turned around and jumped. Shilo was there, and she looked like breakfast just wouldn't quell her hunger.
With a delicious smirk, he sat down and added sugar to his cup. "Good morning, ladies."
"Dammit, Graves! You took the last of the coffee!" fumed Clare as she got up to make another pot.
"How are you, kid?" Graverobber asked Shilo.
Shilo tore her gaze from his chest and looked at him in the eye. "I…uh…I've been better," she stuttered, a blush creeping across her face.
"I'm sure. Do you want anything from your house, kid? I could pick the locks or something and get what you need. I'll be selling on that side of town today."
"I don't think there's much I could need from that place, but I'm pretty sure there are a couple GeneCop bodies in his Repo Man cave." She couldn't bring herself to admit it used to be her dad's Repo Man cave; it was too soon.
He gave her a nod of his head, "Thanks, kid, it makes my job that much easier to do."
"Sure. You know, maybe some of my Blind Mag posters could come here and maybe a couple books. It doesn't matter which one."
Clare turned from the brewing coffee pot and butted into the conversation. "Shilo, I've got a library that rivals even the Largo's library, that is, if they can read. Seriously, don't worry about books to read, I've probably got the one you want. Oh, here take these," she said, handing her a few of the pills from her collection, "I'm going to wean you off of these. This is a smaller dose than usual, so you might feel a little off, maybe a little better."
"Thanks, Clare," said Shilo as she took her pills with a drink of her coffee.
"Come on, Shilo. We've yet to get your clothes. There's a thrift shop down the street."
Shilo nodded and gave a hasty goodbye to Graverobber, who hadn't moved from his seat at the table. "I'll probably be gone by the time you're back here, kid. I'll have your stuff tomorrow," he said with an intoxicating grin.
Clare left the house with Shilo in tow. "You could barely keep your eyes off him, girl. Get it together!" Clare joked as they walked down the street. "Besides, he's a little old for you. He's twenty-five and you're, what, seventeen?"
"Yeah, I'm seventeen. How couldn't I look at him? How could you not look at him?"
"Well, married people generally don't check out other people like that, kid," she said with a smile.
"You're married? I didn't think any of those rings on your fingers meant anything."
"It's a shame that marriage doesn't carry the same weight it used to. Hell, some dealers accept certain favors for Z. Of course, I think my husband is the only dealer that doesn't accept that kind of payment."
"Oh, I had no idea," Shilo said, blushing.
"Here we are," said Clare with a grin. She opened the door for Shilo and followed her into the thrift shop. "Pick out what you want; I've got 200 credits for you to use. That should be more than enough. I've got business to attend to just around the corner. I should be back before you're done. Go wild, kid."
She left the store and walked away, leaving Shilo to find new clothes.