~Eight years later~
There he is.
He had been looking all day for the local necromerchant. Now he saw him: Straight black hair that fell past his shoulders, streaked with different-colored highlights; white makeup that covered his face; maroon lipstick; a thick brown coat trimmed with fake fur; thick black gloves studded with metal; knee-high combat boots; and a leather strap across his chest that held a slim pack to his back. The full necromerchant get-up.
He stood where he was, ignoring the crowd flowing past him in the street, and tried to catch the necromerchant's eye; he knew how to contact one. He didn't want Zydrate, however…
The necromerchant's eyes met his for a split second; then, the necromerchant turned and hurriedly walked away.
He counted to five in his head, then called, "Hey! Wait!"
He ran after him, catching him as soon as the crowd was completely left behind.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else," he said quickly, getting the code phrase out of the way.
The necromerchant said nothing.
This is it.
He got down on his hands and knees at the necromerchant's feet. "Please, sir-" he began.
"Begging won't get you a discount, kid." The necromerchant's voice was cold and unpitying.
He looked up. "I don't want Zydrate," he said.
"Then what do you want from me?" asked the necromerchant coolly, raising an eyebrow at the figure on the ground before him.
He gulped; the necromerchant was unnervingly cold. "I…uh…" he stammered.
The necromerchant crossed his arms.
"Well…you're a necromerchant, right?" he began nervously.
The necromerchant narrowed his eyes. "Why do you ask?" he asked, his tone guarded.
"Well…I want to be a necromerchant," he replied. "Can you teach me?"
The necromerchant gave a soft, contemptuous laugh. "Sorry, kid," he said; "position's taken."
"Taken?" he repeated, confused.
"There can only be one necromerchant per community," the necromerchant explained, sounding as though he were reciting something out of a textbook.
"How come?" he asked, curious.
"With the biggest powerhouse in the world declaring our business illegal, we can't afford to be fighting each other," the necromerchant replied.
He smiled. "…the biggest powerhouse in the world declaring our business illegal…" "That's okay," he said; "I can go somewhere else, once you teach me. I mean, someone had to have taught you, right? I just want to know how it's done."
The necromerchant was silent for a minute, then started pacing around him. He stayed on the ground.
"What exactly do you think this job entails?" the necromerchant finally asked.
"I don't care," he replied; "I don't care exactly what it entails - all I know is that Rotti outlawed it, so I want to do it."
"So you bear a grudge against Rotti…" the necromerchant mused, still pacing in a circle around the desperate young man on the pavement. "Why, exactly, do you want this job? What does your grudge stem from?"
"That's none of your business," he said; he didn't want to talk about it.
"If I'm going to train you, then it will be my business," the necromerchant countered smoothly.
He sighed. "Organ repossession took my father when I was nine," he told the necromerchant. "It wasn't fair - he was sick, but we couldn't afford to keep up with his payments. I swore at the funeral, on his grave, that I would never forgive Rotti or GeneCo. The thing is, I can't stand up to Rotti - people who do that end up dead."
"Being a necromerchant is punishable by death," the necromerchant pointed out.
"Well, at least it's not a guaranteed death!" he argued.
"Hmm…" The necromerchant kept pacing. There was tense silence for a few minutes, and though he was nervous, he refused to back down. I have to do this…for my father, he thought determinedly.
"How old are you, kid?" the necromerchant finally asked him, still pacing.
"Seventeen," he replied.
"Seventeen…" the necromerchant repeated slowly. "So still a minor, then." He paused. "You have a lot of potential, you know. You could be anything. If you become a necromerchant, all of that will have to be wasted. Once you get in, you can never get back out."
"I don't care," he replied firmly; "I have to live my life in defiance of Rotti and GeneCo - it's the only way I can live in Rotti's world and stay sane!"
The necromerchant laughed coldly, pacing around him again. "Sane," the necromerchant repeated mockingly. "You really think so? If you become a necromerchant, you'll have to adjust your definition of 'sane' - I can promise you that."
He said nothing; it didn't matter, but…
"You see, kid," the necromerchant went on, coming to a stop at his head, "in order to become a necromerchant…you'll have to die."
"What?" he exclaimed, his head snapping up to face the necromerchant standing over him.
"Oh, not physically," the necromerchant clarified with an evil smile. "But whatever makes up who you are now - your family, your friends, your home, even your name - all of it will have to be gone and forgotten, if you're to be a necromerchant."
He shook his head. "Just show me how to do it," he said; "I just want to know how it's done. I don't want to lose everything I have - I just need to live my life as a rebel."
The necromerchant chuckled wickedly. "It's not that simple," the necromerchant said; "being a necromerchant isn't just a job, it's an entire way of life. It will have to be your only identity - 'Graverobber' will be your only name. I'll have to train you, for weeks, months - maybe even a year or two - before you can call yourself a necromerchant. If you want to do it, then you'll have to renounce your entire life as it stands, here and now - you won't even be able to bid your friends and family farewell, if you haven't already done so. You'll have to turn your back on everything, now…and if it turns out you aren't cut out for this job, I'll have to kill you - for my own safety, understand." The necromerchant crouched down, so that they were almost at the same eye level. "It will not be easy, nor will it be fun," the necromerchant warned softly; "being a necromerchant entails a great many things, most of which you will find unpleasant. Are you sure you want to do this?"
He bowed his head. "I must," he said, nervous but certain.
The necromerchant sighed. "Very well then. From now until you complete your training, your name - your only name - is Apprentice." The necromerchant reached out his hand. "Come with me."
Apprentice took the necromerchant's hand, and they stood up together. "What should I call you?" Apprentice asked his new mentor.
"All others call me 'Graverobber', but until your training is complete, you are to call me 'Master'," the necromerchant answered. "Is that clear?"
"Yes, Master," Apprentice replied.
And so it was that the boy, now Apprentice, turned his back on his life as a human being forever.