Happy Holidays, everyone :) Please review.

9. (to) Feel Alive

"Deck the halls with nitroglycerine, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la..."

"Would you stop freakin singing? You're gonna get us caught," Carmella snapped. The heiress was currently perched on the headstone of the grave her companion was violating. She was less concerned with the overall creepiness of the situation than she was with the patrolling GeneCops her father employed. True, none had come over to this corner of the cemetery yet, but GraveRobber was really tempting fate by singing paraphrased Christmas carols while he worked.

GraveRobber cheerfully ignored Carmella's scolding and finished up the chorus as he found the right tool from his kit to pop open the unearthed coffin. Prying at the mouldering wood, he launched into the second verse.

"Deck the halls with gasoline

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.

Light a match and watch it gleam

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la."

Despite herself, Carmella giggled. It was all so fucking stupid that she couldn't help it. Besides, he really did have a hot voice. At the sound of her laugh, GraveRobber looked up at Carmella with a lopsided grin before returning to the task at hand. Carmella thought she saw a light flickering dangerously close, but she forgot about it when she saw GraveRobber pull a syringe from under his coat. He flipped the lid of the coffin to reveal a desiccated-looking body.

"Watch your house burn down to ashes

Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la!"

Carmella winced; he'd gotten even louder, and those lights were definitely getting closer.

"You fucking retard," She hissed, hopping down to duck behind the headstone. Meanwhile, GraveRobber put the needle through the corpse's skull, and that heavenly blue glow appeared before Carmella's eyes.

"Aren't you glad you played with matches

Fa-la-la-la, la-la-la..."

Without warning, GraveRobber stood up and, to Carmella's horror, proceeded to scream at the top of his lungs, "LAAAAA!"

"Shit!" Carmella yelped as alarms started blaring. She stood too, ready to make a quick escape. GraveRobber flashed her a brilliant grin, and Carmella had never wanted more fervently to disembowel a person.

A GeneCop loomed several feet in front of the teens, eyes and gun trained directly on GraveRobber. If possible, that freaky-ass smile widened even further, and the Zydrate-dealer held up the ashy snowball he'd been hiding behind his back. He beamed it directly at the GeneCop's helmet so slush splattered across his goggles. While the cop scraped frantically at his helmet, GraveRobber took off, whooping loudly. Carmela sprinted off behind him, heels sinking into the thin layer of snow. Milliseconds before the door slammed itself closed, the teens dove into the nearest mausoleum, gasping for breath.

Five minutes of excruciating silence passed as the rest of the GeneCops appeared and swept the scene. GraveRobber and Carmella didn't dare flinch. Finally, the alarm was silenced, and the floodlights and footsteps of the GeneCops faded off into the distance. When they were sure they were safe, Carmella and GraveRobber looked up. Their eyes met, and both teens burst into hysterical laughter.

"Shit...shit...that was great," GraveRobber gasped, "now that's what I call an occupational hazard! Damn!"

"Oh...fuck," Carmella got out between peals of laughter, "my ribs...my fucking ribs."

"Don't worry, you can always get them replaced!" GraveRobber hooted, and they laughed even harder. It took a while for the laughter to die down, and after that they were both clutching their stomachs and giggling like a couple of five-year-olds.

"Okay, alright," Carmella stood up, face flushed from the hysterics. She wobbled over to the mausoleum door. "That was fun. Now let's get out of here."

"Oh, we can't get out," GraveRobber said lightly from his seat on the sepulcher.

Carmela froze. "What?"

"This place is on lock-down till sunrise," GraveRobber said matter-of-factly, "that's when the system resets itself."

"So you're telling me," Carmella stalked back to the sepulcher, all semblance of good humor gone, "that we're stuck in a freezing-as-fuck body-bin until morning?"

"That's the situation," GraveRobber reaffirmed, grinning pleasantly. He was enjoying this far too much.

"You planned this," Carmella accused.

"Dontcha think that's a little presumptuous, sweetheart?" GraveRobber said coolly, but there was a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

Carmella sighed, "Well Merry Freakin' Christmas." She decided that GraveRobber wasn't the worst person to be trapped in a tomb with. And besides, even grave-robbing drug-dealers and Zydrate-addicted scalpel-sluts don't like to be alone on Christmas Eve.

"Got your present right here," GraveRobber held up the pilfered Zydrate vial that had started all this trouble in the first place, "have you been naughty or nice, sweetheart?"

Instead of answering, Carmella gave him her most suggestive smirk, which he returned in full. It was very cold in the mausoleum, you see, and they both had an idea of how to keep warm.