Hi Everyone, this is my first GraveRobber story, and my first story on here so, please enjoy and review, if you can please rate too. All Critsism will be read and taken to heart so please tell me what you think. This is a GraverobberXOC and a one shot. It sort of Flip flops between Graverobber and my character so i hope you won't get confused and its GraveRobber-centric. Thanks for reading. XD
She wasn't extremely beautiful; she wasn't drop dead gorgeous, and she was definitely no Amber Sweet, but she was cute enough that I would allow her to pay by means other than cash if she were ever hooked.
She was a petite little thing, about five feet- possibly five one. Her skin was the color of milk chocolate and her onyx eyes seem to bore into your very soul when ever she looked at you. Her rusty brown hair was in an inverted bob style which covered her left eye and her oval face had a soft look to it, too soft to belong to someone whose been living on these streets. Even her attire proved that she was born into a healthy- financially anyway-family.
I will admit she was a strange one and even though I enjoyed her company, her ability to sneak up on me always put me out of sorts. But I suppose she has to be quiet and stealthy, especially since she is the only person who managed to evade repossession.
Twice.
She ceases her humming as the sound of footsteps could be heard in the distance. Sirens begin to blare as a speaker announces the spotting of a graverobber. She turns her body around on the stone wall-which she perched her self on not two hours ago—and watches as a man run out of the cemetery and into her alley where he ducks behind the dumpster. Oblivious to both her and the man, the GeneCo goons run by their captain screaming out orders not to let him get away. She jumps down from her seat- landing soundlessly- and walks next him causing him to jump slightly. She peeks around the corner before motioning him to follow.
Graverobber follows the little gypsy as she leads him through the shadows and into a man hole. They travel through the winding tunnels and liquid defecation of the city for what feels like hours before reaching the exit. She climbs up the ladder first giving him the opportunity to catch a glimpse under her jet black and silver dress, so he casually lifts the hem high enough to take a peek. To his disappointment, pair of black shorts obstructs his view. She lifts the lid only to slam it shut again as a dump truck rolls over it. He climbs out after her and commences to brush himself off as she places the lid back over the hole.
She wasn't absolutely sure where this newfound benevolence came from or why it compelled her to help this graverobber, but she was certain it appeared during the entertaining spectacle of him running from the guards—then again it could have also appeared because of the natural charm that seems to pour from him. As he checks to make sure he had all of his belongings, she gives him the once over. He was tall—but then again the average person would be taller than her, his clothes were filthy-covered with dirt, grim, and only god knows what else, and his hair was long and black with random strips of neon colors in it. His skin was extremely pale and his eyes had black eye shadow giving him an ominous look.
A faint neon blue glow from his waist catches her eye.
He stops counting the glass vials in the inner lining of his jacket and watches as she approaches him. She pulls back the other side of his jacket and pulls out a vial from his waist. This rare act of boldness causes him to freeze, but only for a second. He snatches the vial back before she could take off with it.
"Cash first bitch!" he growls while giving her a malicious glare.
Her features darken in realization of what he was implying, "I'm not addicted."
"Of course you aren't," he replies sardonically as he places the vial back, "You just need a little something to take the edge off right? Thought that if you saved me, I'd show my gratitude by giving you a free hit, well I hate to break it to you sweet heart, but I didn't- nor will I ever- need your help."
Her features relax instantly as she stares at him, "Are you sure about that?"
He leans down and stares into her large onyx eyes, "I'm positive."
The corners of her mouth turn up slightly and she shrugs, "If you say so." And she disappears into the darkness of the alley.
Graverobber shakes his head at the strange gypsy woman and turns on his heels. A bright light blinds him momentarily as the sound of hurried footsteps approach him, "We've found him!"
The gun sparks against her inner thigh and a look of pleasure cross her face. He pushes the customer—with more force then necessary- out of the way and begins to reload the gun. His right shoulder still ached from removing the bullet three days before, so he was still in a pissy mood. Another customer comes up, she pays, the gun sparks, and she stumbles away. It was a relatively slow day which meant little business and little business meant little cash and a whole lot of time to think. He leans against his dumpster and closes his eye allowing his mind to wander. A hand suddenly runs through his hair causing his stomach—and other places—to clench in surprise. The hand runs through his hair once more before wiping its self on his jacket.
"Your hair is filthy."
He turns and glares at her as his mind riddles over how the hell she go there without him noticing. She surveys her surroundings taking in the half naked women- leaning on a wall or collapsed on the ground- lost in another world before turning her attention back to him.
"Shouldn't you be getting home soon? Your parents might worry."
"My parents are dead, and I'm twenty-one years old thank you very much."
He lifts an eye brow looking at her in disbelief.
"What?"
He says nothing only smiles and continues to look at her.
"I'm telling the truth."
"I don't know," He mutters taking a step back and looking her up and down, "you're pretty short to be twenty-one."
"I'm not that short." She replies indignantly but he continues to smile.
"Well then you are—by far—the smallest twenty-one year old I've ever seen. It's a shame that you're an addict too."
She bits the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling, "I'm not an addict."
"Sure, sure."
She watches as he pulls out a glowing blue vial and rolls it across his knuckles.
"So let's say you aren't an addict," He walks up to her and leans forward with his arms resting on either side of her thighs, "Would you like to try it?"
She tears her eyes away from him and allows them to settle on the sad high bodies the litter the alley.
"Its quick, it's clean," He hold up the vial to her face, "And it's pure."
Her eyes stay glued to the neon blue light. It calls out to her, begging her to take it.
"It could change you life, rest assured."
Her fingers begin to tremble as she slowly raises her hand towards the alluring vial.
"Once an addict; always an addict."
She stares up at him as she places her hand on his and pushes it away from her, "I was never an addict to begin with."
He twirls the vial one last time before placing it back in his pocket never breaking eye contact, "If you say so."
Her black eyes narrow slightly as he continues to smile.
"You're still the tiniest twenty-one year old I've meet."
Her daily routine was completely unpredictable. Some days she would spend with him—watching him work, following him where ever he went, questioning his methods—and each time he saw her, he attempted to lead her off the straight and narrow and back into the world of zydrate—which she continues to claim that she's never been too—and some days she would just disappear, without a trace, without a word for a couple of days and then return just as magically as she left—never speaking of where she went.
From time to time, during her returns, he would notice a bruise or a cut of some sort, but he never mentioned it.
He feels a slight tug on his hair as he finishes with the thirty year old corpse. Smiling, he tosses the corpse back in its tomb.
"Help me with this." He says motioning towards the lid.
She bends down on one end and him on the other, and together they lift the concrete lid and place it back to its rightful place.
"Don't you feel a bit guilty for disturbing the dead?" She asks as she follows him to another tomb.
"Don't you get tired of asking me that question every time we come here?"
He pushes the top off and stands back fanning the smell away from him. He sets the corpse down and begins harvesting.
"What's your name?" he asks casually as the blue liquid begins to fill the vial.
She doesn't respond. Pocketing the drug, he turns to see her staring up at the moon. He walks beside her and taps the opposite shoulder. She turns her head in that direction only to see no one.
She laughs at her self before hitting him lightly on the stomach.
"You've been doing that a lot lately."
She turns and watches him place the corpse back where it was found.
"What?"
"Zoning out, I actually left you for a good two hours one time, came back and you where still standing there."
She chuckles, "Sorry, I've just had a lot on my mine."
He opens another casket.
"He's catching up isn't he?"
She places her middle and index finger on a hidden cut that trails from her throat to the top of her breast plate.
"How did you know?"
He pockets another vial and shifts to another corpse, "Despite what you may think, I'm very observant."
He finishes that corpse and puts away his equipment. He slings the bag over his shoulder and walks towards her.
"It doesn't take me long to put two and two together."
They manage to escape the cemetery undetected and hitch a ride on the garbage truck.
"You can't run from him forever." He states leaning back against the wall.
She steps from the little platform into the heap and flops down on top.
"I've been doing well so far and as long as I can, I will run. I have a right."
He stares at his little gypsy trying to figure out what it is the repo is trying to take back.
She smiles.
"You'll never guess."
He returns her smile, "Spinal cord?"
"No."
"Liver?"
"Nope."
"Kidneys?"
"Nah-uh"
"Spleen?"
She laughs, "What does that do anyway?"
He shrugs, "Did I get it right?"
"No."
"Large Intestine?"
she chuckles, "No."
"Small Intestine?"
"Give it up, you won't get it."
"Ah, but I'm getting close since you're getting defensive, bladder?"
"No."
"Stomach?"
"No"
"How about your Medulla Oblongata?"
"My What?!"
She leans her back against the wall waiting for her heart to quit racing. She finally managed to lose him in an alley a couple of miles back. She was taking in shallow breaths and the pain in her chest had not ceased. She shuts her eyes tight as a small whimper escapes her lips. Graverobber was right. She couldn't run from him for ever. Not because he was catching up, but because she was slowing down. The faulty lungs that GeneCo gave her—the ones that she never missed a payment on—where finally failing and Rotti wants them back before word gets out. She slides down the wall and rests her forehead on knees.
These new organs that GeneCo has been giving out are faulty. They work for a couple of years but then, for some reason, fail. But the repo-man usually comes along before that happens to confiscate the crappy organs, fix them up so that they last a couple of more years, then resale it to the public. It's a sick and twisted cycle, and her parents where the ones who discovered it.
They were also the first ones who died from it.
She sighs and stands. There wasn' t much she could do about it. She was going to die either way, but unlike most people she had a choice and she would rather suffocate and expose GeneCo, then ever give Rotti the satisfaction of confiscating her lungs and shutting her family up.
She traces his jaw line before sliding her hand down his chest.
"Maybe, there's another way I could pay for it?" the red head purrs.
Graverobber smiles.
It has been a long time and lately the customers have been able to afford their hits and the ones who couldn't—to his displeasure—where men, but he knows where she's been and quite frankly, he didn't want what she had. He grabs her hand and pushes it way from him.
"No cash, no hit."
Her red hair seemed to frizzle with her anger as she storms off.
"What the hell are you looking at?!"
His little gypsy appears from the darkness of an adjacent alley and eyes her, "Not much."
The woman sneers and pushes past her. She pays it no attention as she walks towards him.
"I may not know much about your job, but I do know that angering you clients is bad for business."
"Actually, no it's not; these people are so hopelessly gone that I could do anything to them and they'll come back within a day or two."
She nods and leans against the wall.
A silence had fallen between them. It wasn't awkward, just quite. He looked directly at her and she looked up at the sky.
She couldn't look at him. If she did, her will power will fail and she'll fall helplessly into his arms. They had spent too much time together for it to be just a senseless one night stand. She knew that if she submitted to this temptation she would—just like her first hit of Z—be hooked on him and unlike her addiction to Z—she wouldn't be able to pull her self back out.
She couldn't go through that again. She couldn't love this man, she refused to. She was dying. But still, he was like the little glass vial, so beautiful, so tempting, so delicious. If she went though with this,
He would become her Zydrate.
Graverobber gently stroked her cheek snapping her out of her trance. Her hand trembles as she reaches up and touches his face. He smiles as he leans into a kiss. He presses her against the cold hard brick wall and explored every inch of her mouth.
This kiss was supposed to bring her in, to make her cave, but instead, she pushes against his chest causing him to break the kiss. She slides her thumbs across his chest before moving away from the wall. She gives him a faint smile and disappears in to the darkness of the alley. Her final words ring though his mind as he stares in to the darkness.
"I'm not an addict."
Her body was found three weeks later by one of my sources. He said she died, not by the repo, but by organ failure—GeneCo's to be precise. It seems that there was something wrong with the lungs they had given her. I allowed the information to sink in after hearing it, laughed at the irony, and continued on my way.
I don't think I would have blown it off so easily if she hadn't have turned away.