"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Shilo asked as I climbed to my feet.
"I'm fine," I said, stretching carefully. "I just needed to rest for a minute." A sudden twinge dropped me back to my knees, and Shilo dove down to catch me before I fell on my face.
"Damn," I muttered. "They worked me over better than I thought."
"Do you need a hospital?"
I made a derisive sound. "Hell no. I'm hurting, not dying. I just need to get back to your place and soak in a hot bath for a few hours." I reached behind me and pulled my Zydrate gun from my belt. Setting it to the lowest dosage, I pressed the needle to my jugular and pulled the trigger. The drug flooded my body in a blue flash, and I sagged in relief. I'd pay for it later, but at least now I'd be able to make it back to Shilo's. Some protector I was. Shilo watched me, worried. She was really, really pretty. Skin like moonlight, eyes like shadows at midnight… Damned Zydrate! Any more, and I'd probably be writing stupid sonnets and bad love songs.
"I'm better now," I said, pulling myself up, and trying to clear the beginnings of a sappy ballad from my head. "There's a disposal truck heading to the Necropolis that'll pass by the next alley in an hour or so. We'll hitch a ride." Shilo wrinkled her nose in disgust. I didn't blame her. Body disposal trucks are beyond rank. But Zydrate or not, I didn't feel like walking across half the city in my condition; my competitors might try to take advantage of the situation.
A noise at the far end of our alley snapped my head up. A middle aged man in an obscenely expensive business suit stumbled into sight. He was breathing heavily, and had a wild, panicked look on his florid face. My heart sank. I knew that look. I clamped my hand over Shilo's mouth and pulled her into the shadow of a large trash bin. I started to edge us slowly around, then retreated with a quiet curse. A disposal truck pulled across the mouth of the alley, blocking it completely. The man spotted it too, and tried to run back the way he came, only to let out a screech as a dark figure stepped in front of him.
"Oh hell," I groaned.
"Who's that?" Shilo whispered, wriggling away from my hand.
"The Phantom," I replied grimly.
"A repoman?" she gasped. "We have to help him!" She pulled a scalpel out of her skirt and tried to pull away from me. I yanked her back and wrestled the blade out of her hand.
"Are you crazy?" I hissed. "If you interfere, the Phantom will kill you."
"But I can help him," she argued. "I can make his payment for him!"
"Do you see his suit? His jewelry? He can afford to his payments! Besides, once a repo order is issued, it's too late to pay."
The guy was backing away now, pleading with the slowly advancing Phantom. He had a real sense of the dramatic, the Phantom did. Figures.
"I can pay!" the dead man walking begged. "Please, I can pay! My wife, she was supposed to send in the payments for the two of us. She was supposed to get it in on time. But she's furious at me. She found out about my secretary and- and me, and she wants me dead. So- so, you see, this isn't a standard repo! This is an attempted murder! Just let me pay. I can pay you more than that, just for you!"
The Phantom stepped into a pool of light, and Mr. Corpse-to-be fell silent. The Phantom had that effect on people. He was imposing, nearly seven feet tall. He wore a tall top hat, formal tuxedo, and floor length cloak, all of shiny black leather. Even the rose pinned to his lapel was leather. The creepiest thing about him, though, was his mask. Most of it was painted stark white, with only the left cheek and part of the chin a pale flesh tone. Its expression was utterly, inhumanly blank, no trace of pity or mercy.
The Phantom slowly drew a long scalpel out of his cloak and held it up to the light. It gleamed red.
"Don't look," I whispered to Shilo.
The guy who had evidentially cheated on the wrong woman tried to run for it, but the Phantom was quicker. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the poor bastard's throat from ear to ear. He fell to the ground without a sound. The Phantom knelt over him and ripped his shirt open, then stopped. He looked up, directly at our hiding place. I could feel sweat begin to run down my face, and I thought my heart was going to hammer its way out of my chest. Pressed against me, Shilo trembled violently.
After an eternity, the Phantom turned his attention back to his victim. He shrugged his broad shoulders, and his long cloak fell forward to cover the body from view. Didn't do a thing about the sound, though.
After he was finished, he shut the old fashioned medical bag containing the organs, and lifted his wrist to his mouth slit.
"Repossession complete. Clean up requested."
With a last glance toward us, he walked casually out of the alley. Behind us, the disposal truck doors opened, and two Geneco employees jogged over to the body, stripped it of wallet, watch, and jewelry, and carried it back to the truck. We waited until they drove off before we emerged from the shadows.
"He saw us," Shilo said.
"How could he?" I asked, shaken.
"I don't know, but he did. Why didn't he come after us?"
I didn't answer. I was wondering the same thing. The repomen didn't like witnesses to repossessions. Bad for PR. But this guy saw us; more, he blocked our view before cutting. Why?
"That was awful!" Shilo whispered, covering her face.
"Hey," I said gently, prying her fingers away. "We're okay. We're safe. He didn't hurt us. The guy didn't suffer. It was over before he even knew."
Her hands clung to mine, and she rested her head against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close, and kissed her forehead. And when she raised her face to mine, I swear it was the Zydrate that had me kissing her back. She tasted like brandy and cinnamon, and when she reached for my belt, for the first time I felt a stab of regret that it would be in a dark alley, against a rough brick wall.
