Chase the Morning
Warnings: Grave desecration, drug use, language, hints of abuse
Pairings: Hints of Su/Fin, OC/OC
If you'd like to read this elsewhere, it can be found on my tumblr (Lefseandtrolls) or on Ao3 (Scribe_of_Ruse).
Chapter I – A Song of Graverobbers and Addicts
The wind whistled ominously through the graveyard just outside of town, blowing dust and ash into the air. Lights occasionally flashed through the tombstones, searching for any sign of living presence. Old signs on the gates warned that anyone caught trespassing at night would be shot on sight – a fact that was, strictly, no longer entirely true, due to lack of a non-GeneCo police force to enforce it. A speaker hanging a few dozen yards away insistently reminded that collecting and buying street zydrate was illegal; to tune into Prussia's final performance in the Genetic Opera; to Vote Yes on Prop 596 and keep organ repossessions legal.
Kristoffer rolled his eyes at the constant barrage of sound, as annoyed at it as he was thankful for the noise cover as he carefully dug up a grave, occasionally ducking down behind the headstone to avoid the searchlights.
He gagged almost silently into the kerchief covering his face as he finally broke through the coffin and hit the corpse, the smell of decaying human flesh washing over him in a wave.
Didn't matter how many years you'd been gravedigging – the smell wasn't something you could ever get used to. He quickly pulled the small catheter and vial system he used to extract zydrate out of his pocket, shoving the catheter up the corpse's nose until he hit what was left of the brain. A bright blue, glowing liquid quickly flowed out into the vial, filling it up in a matter of seconds. He pulled the catheter out, switched out the full vial for an empty one, then stuck it back in the other nostril and watched the second vial fill up to the top.
He swore quietly under his breath in amazement. Two vials from one corpse was a lucky break – the exact one he needed tonight. Most corpses these days didn't give out even a full vial – but… well, this one'd been dead for about 80 years, so maybe that explained it.
Fucking zydrate junkies ruined just about everything. The more you used, the less you gave out, even after letting their corpse decay for a good long time. (There were small blessings, though. His wouldn't ever have enough to be worth stealing from.)
The searchlights flashed through the graveyard again, more brightly this time, signaling that the cops were on their way. Kristoffer dropped the corpse back in what was left of its coffin, making his apologies to long-dead ears and scrambling out of the grave. He quickly shoved the dirt back on top of it, not bothering to do a neat job – properly reburying the corpse would take far too long, and the cops would be on him any minute. He quickly pulled a long blacklight marker out of his pocket, marking the side of the granite tombstone with a heavy 'x' that only other graverobbers would notice or care about. It was a sign that this one had already been used, and not to bother digging it back up.
It was getting harder and harder to find gravestones without them.
He paused momentarily before getting up, making sure the lights were facing away from him as he booked it out of the graveyard, hopping lightly over the fence like it was nothing, and calmly walking back to his apartment, hands shoved in his pockets and whistling merrily the whole way back.
Astrid sighed in irritation as she kicked off her shoes and walked up the stairs, the voices of her stepmother and some of her many friends floating up after her from the living room. She ran up the stairs as silently as she could, not wanting to draw attention to herself, and walked down the darkened corridor, dropping her bag just in the doorway of her room and knocking politely on her sister's doorway.
"Door's open," Emilia called out, her voice shaking slightly.
"Hey, Emmy. How did your appointment go? I'm really sorry I couldn't be there –" Astrid apologized as she entered and closed the door behind herself.
"No, you're not. That would have meant being in the same room with dad for a long time," Emilia said bluntly, scooting up out of the covers.
"I wish I could've been there instead of father, then. Happy?"
"N-no."
"Right, of course. Still doesn't answer my question, though. How did it go?"
Emilia shrugged slightly, wrapping her arms around herself. "F-fine, I guess? They s-said that they can try that new procedure – that one where they leech the drug out of your brain and r-replace all your organs? It's still kinda experimental and everything, but apparently they got a 83% success rate for it."
"That means there's a 17% rate of failure," Astrid said distastefully, perching lightly on the end of her sister's bed. "What did dad say about it?"
"He s-said that it'd be okay. Better than havin' me s-stuck in here, attached to all these wires and s-shit," Emilia complained, holding up one slightly shaking needle-laded arm.
"I'm pretty sure that's not the words he used. And… really? He gave his approval for that. Isn't it like… insanely expensive?"
"They're n-not, but they're the ones I'm using. And yeah, it is, but it's better than me dyin', Tri! I-I'm only 17, I'm too young to die!"
"You don't think I don't know that, Em? I don't want you to die either. I'm just… kind of surprised he gave his approval for it. He doesn't normally think of anybody but himself."
"Th-that's not fair, Tri. Just because he doesn't like what you do doesn't mean he doesn't think about anybody but himself," Emilia declared, reaching over for her glass of water with a trembling hand.
"He doesn't give a rat's ass what I do. To him, I'm a failure. Don't you remember? Now, how long's it been since your last shot of zydrate?" Astrid demanded, watching her sister's violet eyes swim in and out of focus.
"S-six and a half hours… but, I'll be okay, Tri. R-really. I promise."
"Bullshit. That's good for you. Way better than you normally manage. Where'd you put the gun?"
"B-bottom drawer of my dresser, but the doctors say I need to be weaned off it anyway!" Emilia protested, shaking her head.
"Yeah, weaned off of it, not immediately quitting cold-turkey. How long do you have until the surgery, anyway?"
"A m-month, b-but dad said he wouldn't get any more for me, and I've only got like, five shots left, and I don't have the money to go get more," she whined, biting her lip as if that would stave off the addiction and stop the craving entirely.
"Look, I'll talk to him, okay? Try and make him change his mind. If that doesn't work, I'll get it for you myself, okay? We can't risk you dying before you even get to surgery," Astrid stated blandly, her mind racing at the thought as she got up to get her sister's zydrate gun.
"No, don't do that! He's getting a new liver or something, and Linnea's getting new eyes, and we can't afford my surgery and theirs and my zydrate addiction. Not unless I become the new face of GeneCo after Prussia's last performance or something, and there's no way that would ever happen."
Astrid snarled quietly at that, rolling her eyes and gritting her teeth in frustration and anger.
"Astrid, don't. I know y-you don't like it, but it's… y'know, normal. Everybody does it."
"His liver is perfectly functional. And so are her eyes! They don't need new ones. Besides, he's our father. He should care more about us than he does himself and his precious wifey. The only reason he's keeping you alive is because you might be able to be of some use to him in the future."
"Astrid, th-that's mean."
"Big deal. There are proper ways of getting over someone's death, and surgery after surgery isn't one of them."
"Well, y-you could at least b-bother pretending that y-you approve."
"But I don't. They care more about being 'designer' than they do about us. That's not really something I can ever approve of, Em," she said as gently as she could, holding up the zydrate gun. "Now, where do you want the shot?"
Emilia held out her left arm, continuing to bite her lip agitatedly as Astrid fired the gun, then got up and proceeded to stash it away again.
"There. That better?"
"Ah, yeah," Emilia sighed gratefully, wobbling slightly as the drug quickly took hold.
"That's good. Perfect. I'm going to go and try to talk dad into getting you more, okay? And if he won't… I'll – I'll get it for you myself," Astrid said reassuringly, trying to quell her own panic by smoothing her sister's chin length hair down as Emilia sank down into her pillows with a euphoric look on her face.
"Mmm… 'kay. Don' like you doin' it… bu' g'luck, I guess…" Emilia slurred, the zydrate already having her firmly in its clutches as it snaked through her veins. Astrid tucked her sister into bed, placing a gentle kiss on her little sister's forehead before leaving.
She fled downstairs quickly before she could resolve not to, standing in front of her father's office door. A sudden burst of laughter escaped from behind the door, making her jump back in what could only be considered paranoia.
Just how many people were her parents entertaining today?
She snuck over to the living room door, pulling it open just slightly enough that she could look inside without being noticed by anyone. She could just barely spy her stepmother, Anna, Katya, and Natalia Braginskaya, as well as Tino Väinämöinen and Peter Kirkland-Oxenstierna sitting on the collection of chairs and having tea and biscuits.
It was an odd collection of guests to be having over, to say the least – the Braginski family was infamous for its cruelty and ruthlessness, with rumors about Ivan's night job floating around their family like jellyfish. Väinämöinen was seemingly harmless, but he was rarely separated from his roommate Berwald. And gossip had it that he, like Ivan, was a Repo Man.
To Astrid, their presence could only mean one thing – her father was trying to marry her off into wealthy, untouchable families to get more money.
Again.
It hadn't gone well the last three times they'd tried it.
She turned back to her father's office, knocking politely on the door. She jumped back as it flung open, revealing a room full of large men and cigar smoke.
"Ah, Astrid! The lady of the hour. I was just about to call you downstairs. Come in, come in," Aksel said warmly, ushering her inside with one arm firmly around her.
"Dad, we need to talk about Em –"
"Not now, dear. Perhaps after our guests have left," he said quietly, digging his fingers into her arm warningly.
"But, dad –"
"Not right now. Now, be polite and say hello," he commanded, his voice soft and warning in her ear.
She bit back a growl of frustration, choosing instead smiling politely at the three other men occupying her father's office.
"Hello," she said coolly, all while seething internally. "What brings you here today?"
"Aksel, surely you told her? It's her future, after all," Dr. Braginski stated, humour colouring his deep voice as he grinned wryly.
"I did, but she's probably forgotten. Silly thing has her head in the clouds more often than not."
The two older men and Ivan had a good laugh at that, Berwald not even cracking a smile. Astrid resisted the urge to take one of the antique swords off of the wall and shove it through all three of their chests, even as her father sat her down into the chair next to his desk.
"Astrid, my dear girl. We're here to discuss you, and what… assets you can bring us," Dr. Braginski said, looking her over with a borderline lecherous eye. "Now, is it true that you recently graduated from university with a perfect grade point average?"
Astrid looked at him blankly, hiding her disgust beneath her long-since-perfected poker face. "If by recently, you mean three years ago… then, yes, sir, I did."
"Three years ago? You would have been… how old?"
"20. I started Uni when I was 16."
"Very impressive! You never told me she was so intelligent, Aksel. We would've been here a lot sooner if you had."
"I simply thought… that you should see her for yourself," he lied smoothly, placing a hand on Astrid's shoulder in warning as she twitched her whole body in protest.
"She's… very impressive," Ivan said slowly, drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair. "May I just say that whoever did your face and eyes is a magician with the scalpel? And the rest of you… it hardly looks like you've had surgery at all."
"That would be because I haven't," she said bluntly.
"Not at all?"
"No. It's a waste of money and other people's talent, to have surgery when you don't need it. Why risk getting addicted to surgery, to zydrate – to having a Repo Man come for you, if you fall behind on payments – for something that's almost never visible? It's not worth it, in my opinion."
"Astrid," Aksel gasped, looking at his daughter as though she was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen. Which, in a way… she was.
"No, no, Aksel, she's made a good point," Dr. Braginski said, waving him off. "Not enough to change most people's minds, but still. It's… admirable. Honorable, even."
"'S an interestin' point. Good, th't not every'ne thinks th't way, or we'd all be out of a job," Berwald said quietly, eliciting a round of laughter from the other three men. Astrid rolled her eyes, not finding it humorous in the slightest. Aksel took another puff of his cigar, looking Berwald over.
"I think we've heard enough, dear. Maybe you should go check on your sister?" Aksel suggested lightly, tightening his grip on her shoulder once more as if to tell her get the hell out before you embarrass us all even further.
Astrid didn't need to be told twice. She walked calmly out of his office, shutting the door behind her. She then ran up the stairs, a sudden burst of tears threatening to overwhelm her.
She grabbed her bag, slamming her bedroom door shut behind her as she flung it down and collapsed onto her bed, attempting to choke back her sobs and constantly wiping her eyes of tears.
There was no chance in hell that Aksel would change his mind about the zydrate now. Not after she'd publicly embarrassed him like that.
She let herself cry for another fifteen minutes before pulling herself back together, double-checking her makeup for smears before heading back downstairs.
She'd timed it just perfectly – their guests were just starting to leave. Väinämöinen waved politely at her as he dragged Peter out the door. Natalia spared only the slightest passing glare, and Katya was in a drug-induced haze – still floating on the aftereffects of her last shot of zydrate.
"It was nice seeing you again, Astrid," Ivan said as he followed his mother and father out the door. Astrid simply gave a small wave in return, her voice not quite back to normal after crying.
Her father glared at her as he ushered the Braginski family out, clearly displeased with her.
Berwald approached her almost silently, gently touching her on the wrist. She whipped around, shocked that she hadn't heard him approaching. "Can I talk to ya? Al'ne?" he asked quietly, adjusting his glasses in a nervous manner.
"Uhm, sure, right this way," she said with a still-shaking voice, walking towards the living room. He followed her, signaling to Tino that he would be out in a few minutes time. "What exactly were you looking to talk about, Berwald?"
"Wanted ta let y' know that yer father offered yer hand in marriage t' me."
Astrid sighed exasperatedly, rolling her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "I figured he would. It was only a matter of time."
"Turned 'im down. No offense meant, but… yer not 'xactly m' type. Jus' thought yeh sh'ld know."
"Well, uhm, thanks, I guess?" she asked, fidgeting slightly under Berwald's harsh gaze.
"Don't think I can trust yeh with th't kinda information."
"Okay, that's fair," she admitted. "Uhm, one more thing before you go?"
"Sure."
"Do you…" Astrid paused, chewing on her lower lip nervously. "Do you know where to get zydrate? I don't really care about legality. I just need to know where I can get it. The cheaper the better."
Berwald gave her a surprised look. "Thought you didn't do that kind of thing."
"It's not for me."
"Who's it for, th'n?"
"I don't think I can trust you with that sort of information," Astrid said, shaking her head slightly.
"Is it fer yer sister?"
Astrid nodded reluctantly after a moment.
"Sh'dn't be tellin' yeh this. Yer father w'ld kill me, if he knew I was tellin' ya. But… there's a dealer. Operates on Prince and West 83rd. He's a j'ckass, but he's fair. D'n't tell 'im I sent yeh, though, or he'll jack the price up."
"A dealer? Y-you mean, like –"
"A Gr'verobber. Yeah," he said slowly, nodding slightly.
"H-how do you know a graverobber? I mean, you're. Well. A surgeon for GeneCo."
"Peter needed th' drug. He was b'rn addicted. An' even surgeons don't make enough t' support that kinda habit legally."
"Oh. I'm sorry…"
"Not yer fault. Anyw'y, he calls himself Konge. 'S about 6'5'', wi' long, dirty blond hair, an' he's c'nstantly covered 'n mud. He doesn't much l'ke me, but ye'll pr'bably have better luck with him. He's fair if it kills 'im, though, an' he's got a weakness for pretty girls."
Astrid blushed heavily at that, unused to such compliments. "So, West 83rd and Prince?"
"Yeah. He usually sh'ws up there ar'nd 11 or so. Jus'… promise me ye'll be careful?" he asked, looking at her with concern.
"I wouldn't be anything but," she said confidently. "Thank you, Berwald, so much. I really –"
"D'n't say it. C'nsider it advice fr'm one friend t' another. No fav'rs owed th't way."
"Well, thank you anyway. You have no idea how much it means to me."
"Think I've got s'me idea. See you ar'nd," he said kindly, giving her a small wave as he walked out the door.
Astrid quickly fled back upstairs before her parents could confront her, her head reeling with plans for payment. There was little else she could do until 11, after all.
NOTES:
All of the information about and effects of zydrate are made up. I took what very little information they had on the wiki and combined it with my perhaps too-extensive knowledge of anesthetics.
Most backstory for any character can be supplied on request via PM. If I can't tell you, I'll simply answer "spoilers".
Hope you enjoyed!