Disclaimer: The Repo!verse doesn't belong to me neither do Repo Men nor Nathan Wallace, GeneCo, Marni… All of that. The character being the man and daughter were thought of by myself. The mysterious woman in the end happens to be my own character.
Decision. It came down to a simple decision with ulterior motives. What was it, exactly? Live or die.
Choice. The minute he signed the document, he knew he had none. Everybody has a choice, you presume? Not when you sell your soul to the Devil, you don't. He knew this, but he ultimately didn't care. He just wanted the damned organ in order to continue on with his damnable life. Deep down, he believed he had made the right decision. Somewhere deeper, suggested otherwise. What does it even mean to make a choice? He doesn't remember anymore.
Pain. Life. Surgery. It didn't matter. Both objects came with their fair share of pain. He knew this. He was fully aware of the pain that would be in store, yet he made that beguiling choice. He didn't want to leave his daughter behind. He faced the knife to live for her and her alone. So, he endured the pain. He gave her shaky, reassuring smiles as he tried to conceal the pain that lingered within his tired eyes.
Judgment. Ninety days delinquent. That's all it took. The days turned into weeks which dissolved into the final month. His time was nearly up. He couldn't afford it. He knew this. He just wanted to be alive a little longer to see his daughter laugh and play. He couldn't tell her this. Instead, he fed her the sweet lies that were cleverly disguised like a candy-coated pill. GeneCo judged. People judged. The whole, damned world judged. It was as if he was standing before the scales, letting Anubis weigh his heart. This was the final test to see if his heart was worthy of the afterlife.
Time. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The clock was bothersome as the hands moved. Time had the capability to travel at the fastest and slowest of speeds. His time was up. It went by all too quickly for his own liking. He fondly remembered grinning and playing silly games with his child. Three months had come and gone. Almost all had been done with the best intentions. His heart was pure. Pure enough. He only wanted to live for her. Without him, she would be alone. What was he to do? Where was he to hide? To run?
Escape. How he desperately dreamed of this, but it was to no avail. There was no escape, neither mental nor physical. He would close his gray eyes and see only her. It made him sob, scream, and shout to the heavens above and fiery depths below. Neither heard his cries. He cursed them out.
Fear. It's what connected every, single human being to one another. A mutual emotion or feeling binds us all together. He felt paralyzed like a deer caught in the headlights. He clutched his chest, taking in a deep gulp of air. He had to keep moving no matter how intimidating the situation was. The screams he heard down an approaching alleyway were entwined by ecstasy and agony. His heartbeat became irregular. His pupils dilated. Clenching and unclenching his pale fists, he ran. It was all he had left.
Savior. There was none. He found no escape. He found no savior.
Hope. There was little. It was but a minute fraction of the remnants of his life. He knew he would die. There was no doubt or second guess about it. The hope he had left rested within his daughter. He knew she was full of potential. She had to keep living even if he faded away.
Instinct. Instinct was the basis of survival. His legs pushed forward. Faster, faster, faster. Heavy breath. Panting. Exhaustion. He kept running. Determination set him upon his current course. He cursed the darkness skies as they engulfed the remnants of light. His ears pricked to the smallest of sounds. His lips curled into a grimace. His eyes adjusted to the world now stained in black.
Prey. He was a victim. Another that fell behind and bit the dust. Everything consisted of survival those days. He had become simple game to the Repo Man. And so, he ran. Ran and ran and ran. That remained. He had been reduced to prey. The world had become a remotely sicker place.
Hide. To hide. To try. To cover himself. That was of no true use. They would always find him. He didn't doubt it. They were trained, skilled at their work. Hiding wasn't an option- Neither was surrendering.
Conceive. To lie. To deny. To conceive and deceive himself. To lie and deny the Repo Man of his delinquent. That worsened the matter. Deceit was a venomous lie all on its own.
Apologize. As cliché as it was, it was already to late. All that was left was thought. A thought. I am so sorry… His mind wept for the wellbeing of her. He knew she would grow up. She had a future. He only had the present. The Repo Man honed in for the kill. His blade was raised. The misfortunate fellow raised his hand over his face. A tiny, golden locket dangled to and fro. The murderer's voice, male although muffled as it was, spoke, "Dear Marni… I am so sorry. Can you forgive me for this?"
Memory. The final stage. A memory was all that was left in his mind. All that was left behind. Tired, gray orbs fluttered shot. Blade collided with skin, viciously tearing and pulling. He refused to scream. It was unlike his timid composure. He didn't scream for her sake. He didn't flinch. Anubis had claimed his heart for all of Eternity, casting it away. His carcass sunk to the alley's cobblestone ground. It was nothing new, after all. At least he died smiling in the end.
You see, it was nothing new. It was a fifteen step process that she had continuously witnessed from afar. The moon's rays illuminated her dark eye patch. She clucked her tongue, pivoting on heel. The unknown female shook her hand, running a fingerless gloved hand through her mass of platinum locks. She didn't pity the fellow. This happened all too often on her watch. She became apathetic. You had to be immune to the world's various quirks. Her tone was kept purposely low so that none could catch her, "The story never changes, but the game remains the same."
"My fix…" A tomcat yowled in the distance. Moans of despair were uttered from those whom had dropped so low, literally and metaphorically. The few stars that were left seemed to glimmer in the sky just like her lone, blue eye. She tiredly ran a hand over her face as the Repo Man sunk back into the consuming darkness. Her own boots tapped along the ground, staring mutely at the body. She would leave this one alone. He had a life. He had been a victim by default, by his own choice of a prolonged life. She merely shook her head at the thought.
From out of seemingly nowhere, she produced the gun that would supply the others' need. It had troubled her deeply. As the man ran by, he mumbled about his daughter in rushed dialogue. It all the more reminded her of her own past, of how her own father died… She bite her lower lip, administering the neon liquid to a paying client. At least they didn't die the same. It was a simple reassurance. One that she had to trust. It was just another night. The same as always, never changing, seemingly immortal…
Silly.
Silly, silly.
Silly games.
She shook her head.
The game was the same even if there was a different name or reason.
Thus, the cycle continued.
END.