DISCLAIMER: Basically, if you recognize it from Repo!, it's not mine. See Chapter 1 for more details.

AN: I really don't do cliffhangers very often, I promise! This one just popped into my head and demanded to be written. It actually demanded to go a lot farther than it does, but I didn't have it in me. So I gave it a cookie and it shut up for the time being.

***

The Largos had indeed put a price on Shilo Wallace's life. Graverobber read about it a few hours after Darby had sought him out. He'd swiped a copy of the new Metro Gazette from a window of the Asylum Avenue brothel. He would have read it right there, perched on the window ledge, but one of the whores politely asked him to leave ("Fuck off!"). When he declined ("Make me"), she had fetched her pimp, who had . . . insisted. Graverobber had dodged the rock thrown at him, blown the whore a kiss, and ducked out with his new newspaper.

No matter. There were plenty of places that wouldn't mind his company, questionable as it was. After a bit of hunting, he found a vacant apartment a few streets away, up a fire escape. The owner had been stupid enough to leave the window open.

Although that may have had more to do with the lack of any furnishings than stupidity.

Graverobber leaned against a wall and flipped through the paper. As he had half-expected, the Largos had taken it upon themselves to rewrite the history of the final Genetic Opera. Somehow they were managing to blame all three deaths on Shilo, never mind that the whole city had seen the Opera on broadcast. The citizens of Crucifixus were notoriously easy to persuade. In between memorial articles to Rotti Largo and Blind Mag and speculation pieces about GeneCo's future, there were large reward posters in place of the usual surgical ads. Sure enough, they advertised fifteen thousand credits, payable in full upon proof of Shilo's death. Graverobber shook his head. The Largo family was nothing if not vindictive.

He looked up when he heard the first scream. It was a young woman's voice, and it sounded like she was right outside. Chances were a Repo Man had caught up with some poor debtor, and since organ repossessions were almost always fatal, there was a good chance Graverobber could get his hands on some fresh Zydrate. The drug began to excrete as soon as the body died, but invariably broke down to its basic components within a period of two weeks if not stored properly. The fresher the Z, the brighter the glow, and the more he could charge his buyers.

Two more screams came, one male, one female. While the first had sounded more frightened than anything else, these new ones were definitely screams of pain. Graverobber's eyebrows contracted together. Two different screamers? Maybe it wasn't a Repo Man after all.

Graverobber tossed the newspaper aside and poked his head cautiously out the window. The commotion was almost directly across the street from him. From what he could see in the pre-dawn half-light, two thugs had managed to nab themselves a girl. They had her cornered against a wall, next to a Dumpster. One of them was rolling around in the street, doing the classic "I've-just-been-kicked-in-the-sack" dance. A discarded blade lay in the street beside him. The other had a knife to the girl's throat.

Don't get involved, Graverobber told himself. Not your problem. Not your fucking problem. Just keep out of it.

Then he caught a glimpse of the girl's face through her mane of black hair. She was bleeding from her mouth and the side of her head, but he knew that pretty, frightened face anywhere. Shit, it was her. It was the kid. Shilo.

Mine.

He didn't know where that thought had come from, but he didn't really give a fuck.

The more practical part of his mind tried to reason with him. It was better just to leave her to her fate. It wasn't his job to baby-sit her. The last thing he needed was some doe-eyed Lolita wannabe following him around. He was the Graverobber, for fuck's sake. He was an outcast, a criminal, an underworld legend. He sold drugs and desecrated corpses. He only cared about himself. He didn't go around rescuing people. He wasn't anyone's savior.

But this was Shilo, said the other part of his mind. Somehow, this was different.

Years of living on the margins, running from the law, and lugging around bodies had given him speed, strength, agility, and not insufficient amounts of stealth. He was out the window in a flash, down the fire escape in another.

The green-haired thug Shilo had taken down seemed pretty well incapacitated, more concerned with his wounded balls than anything else. The other guy was a different story. That knife was way too sharp and way too close to Shilo. First thing was to get rid of the knife. Second thing was to rip the bastard's guts out.

It was the work of a moment to grab the thug's throat in both hands and yank him away from Shilo. Fortunately, the guy had been concentrating on his prey, and hadn't even noticed the larger man behind him. The knife clattered to the ground as he dropped it in surprise. Graverobber repositioned his hands and made the sharp snap he'd only ever had to use once before. The thug's neck broke easily, and he fell dead to the ground.

The green-haired idiot apparently didn't have his partner's mettle. He was crying and gasping, staring in shock at his dead comrade. The sniveling annoyed him, so Graverobber delivered a swift kick to his head, glad not for the first time of his steel-toed boots. The guy was immediately out cold. Then Graverobber turned to Shilo.

"You okay, kid?"

Shilo nodded shakily. "I think so."

Graverobber took her arm and gently pulled her closer. He tilted her head up towards him, inspecting her bloody mouth. Her lip was split, and she shivered a little as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the wound. It also looked like a tooth had been knocked out. Well, that was an easy fix, at least; tooth replacements were one of the cheapest and simplest surgeries available, and any hack could do it. Shilo was also bleeding from her right ear, but he couldn't tell how it had happened. He looked at her inquisitively.

"He bit me," said Shilo. She met his eyes for the first time, and his heart constricted. Her eyes were dark brown, huge, soulful, endless. Dazzling. Incomparable. Her skin was warm in his hands. She felt alive. More than that, she felt real in a way that no one else did. How could anyone prefer surgical precision over this kind of loveliness, flawed and faultless? Christ, she was beautiful.

Graverobber let go of her quickly. What the hell had gotten into him? It was one thing to jerk off to fantasies of her, even to outright seduce her. But if he started thinking like some lovelorn Romeo, he'd crossed a line somewhere. The best thing to do would be to get away from her as soon as possible. He had a reputation as a heartless bastard to uphold.

He busied himself in pulling out his needles to extract the thug's Z. Waste not, want not. No sense leaving perfectly good product out in the street for one of his rivals to snatch.

"How did you find me?" asked Shilo. She knelt down beside him, watching him work.

"Wasn't looking for you," said Graverobber a little gruffly. "Just luck." He selected a syringe and prepared to push it into the skull, but the broken neck presented a problem. The thug's head lolled around so much that it was hard to keep it steady, and a clean shot to the hypothalamus was essential.

Shilo's small hands reached out, taking hold of the corpse's head on either side. She didn't shake at all. She didn't even wince as he smacked in the needle and drew out the glow.

Kid's tougher than she looks, he thought approvingly.

"You don't think it was fate?" she asked quietly.

"What was?"

"You finding me. That's three times." The unspoken words, that you've saved my life, hung in the air between them.

The Zydrate extracted and glowing brightly, Graverobber tucked the vial into his belt. "Fate's nothing but a lie, kid," he told her. "Just another lie made up by the same idiots who believe God exists and He gives a fuck about us. It's all just a crock of shit." A quick feel in the pockets of the two bodies didn't yield any cash. Graverobber picked up the two knives and tucked them into his satchel, then got to his feet and started heading back down the alleyway. Shilo also leapt up, concerned.

"Where are you going?" she cried.

"I'm not gonna wait around to be arrested like an idiot," he snapped back.

"Can't I come with you?" asked Shilo desperately. Graverobber turned and stared at her.

"Look, I know I'm not good for much," she blurted out. "I—I don't know how to take care of myself, and—and I still don't know very much about this place. But I can help you. Like just now. I-I can do what you do. I'm smart, really, and I'm stronger than I look. And I'm not scared of death. Only please, please don't leave."

"I can't carry you, kid," said Graverobber in some exasperation. Jesus, you do something nice for a pretty girl and she's all over you. Just fucking typical.

"You won't have to," said Shilo eagerly. "I can keep up, I swear I can. If I don't, you can leave me. I won't follow you. But just give me a chance."

Graverobber sighed. He worked alone. He always had. Partnerships inevitably ended in tragedy or betrayal; he'd seen it time and time again. By relying only on himself, he guaranteed that he was never disappointed. Looking after one person was far easier than looking after two. And it wasn't like he was lonely. There were always scalpel sluts willing to sell themselves for a hit, or even regular whores who'd let him in if he could pay.

On the other hand, it was definitely true that Shilo knew zip about how the real world worked. And with that bounty on her life, it was only a matter of time before someone else came looking to cash in. The next time he saw her she might be a shell of herself, or cut into pieces. And there was still that one odd thought that had flown through his head, the one he couldn't forget.

Mine.

He guessed that now, she was.

"Fine," Graverobber muttered grudgingly. Let her think she was an unwelcome tagalong. "I'll give you a shot. But the first time I see you hesitate or you fall behind, you're out of here. No second chances."

Shilo nodded nervously. "I won't need one. I promise."

"Then come on."

Shilo's smile was brilliant. It was like a sunrise. She trotted over to him, practically skipping, and the two set off down the street. Graverobber glanced sideways at her. He'd take care of her injuries, and he'd also have to get her some equipment and real clothes. Not that he didn't love that little black dress she had on, but it wasn't exactly conducive to graverobbing.

After that . . . he'd have to see.

***

I really did not expect it to take four chapters to get these two together. Now that I'm only telling one story instead of two, things should start moving a little faster.

Once again, I had some trouble with Graverobber. It's kind of a fine line to walk with his character. On the one hand, he's almost completely morally bankrupt, definitely lives on the margins, and doesn't really give a fuck about anyone or anything. On the other, I really think that he is genuinely sweet on Shilo, probably more than he cares to admit to himself. Why else would he help her twice in the movie? And his "You're beautiful" during "Needle Through a Bug" gives me chills every time.

Constructive feedback—hell, any kind of feedback—is greatly appreciated Flames, ninja hit squad, you know the drill.