Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

[FIC] Bitch, Payback, Part 2

Author: Semenkhare
Fandom: Repo! The Genetic Opera
Summary: Seriously injured in a raid gone wrong, Graverobber faces some tough choices.
Author's Notes: This chapter didn't flow quite as well as the last one, but it's a lot longer, so that's something, right? I could have chopped it up but I wanted to get to the meat of the story.
Warnings: This is going to get nasty, bloody, gory, etc. You will likely hate me for this.
Disclaimer: I do not own Repo! The Genetic Opera. No profit is being made from this.


"You really think he's coming back?" Shilo asked, watching the tall dark-haired woman who'd been standing at the window, gazing toward the sea.

"Yes," replied Heron, never breaking her vigil. "He told me he would come back. He will."

Shilo shook her head sadly. Heron had told her once about her husband, a sailor who had sailed from Crucifixus ten years before in search of a better life. Though it was clear to everyone that he must have perished somewhere out there, Heron refused to give up hope, and now spent her evenings watching the horizon, watching, waiting for his ship to return.


“He's not coming back,” Leslie said from where he was seated on the couch with his boyfriend. “I keep telling you that, but you won't listen.”


“That's because you're wrong,” Heron said good-naturedly, but all the same, she came away from the window.


Shilo smiled but said nothing. As much as she liked her new friends, the fate of Heron's husband was enough of a sore point with the older woman that she didn't yet feel comfortable offering an opinion. Hell, it had taken her weeks just to feel comfortable in the same room as her.


Heron had once been a GENEco doctor.


Though not a Repoman (“Never a Repoman,” she'd said, shuddering), Heron had been responsible for a lot of the organ transplants that had landed the tranplantees on the end of the Repoman's scalpel. Shilo just couldn't shake the feeling of unease that she got around the former surgeon.


Still, she was grateful to her, and to Leslie and Louis, and the others in the small band of refugees and outlaws who'd welcomed her with open arms after the tragedy at the Opera, only three months before. Lost and alone, she'd sought out the only person in the outside world who'd never tried to hurt her: Graverobber. He, in turn, had introduced her to his companions: people who, like him, protested the inhuman laws that ruled the city.


If she was meant to change the world, Shilo knew it would be with these people.


“Anyone seen Graves tonight?” Leslie asked, standing up. “He's gonna miss dinner if he doesn't show up soon.”


“He said he was harvesting some new place tonight,” Heron said. “He mentioned it to me last night.”


Shilo felt a flash of irritation at the older woman, but she couldn't explain why. So what if Graverobber told Heron things that he didn't tell anyone else? The less people who knew where he was, the better, right? Besides, Heron was married (widowed) MARRIED, so it's not like they could have anything going on between them. Right? And even if they did, why would she care? Just because Graverobber was her closest friend (by default), it didn't mean she owned him, right? Right.


Well, whatever. He knows what he's doing,” Leslie shrugged. “Hey, Shilo, take these down to the Dumpster for me, will you?” He held up a bag of vegetable cuttings, remnants from last night's supper.


“Sure,” she said, accepting the bag. She made her way to the outside door and across the alley to the Dumpster, being careful to look out for GENEcops. Ever since the Opera, Amber Sweet was doing everything in her power to make sure Shilo was killed.


She lifted the lid and threw in the bag. A sudden sound made her pause. She ducked into the shadows and watched, waiting to see who would appear.


When no one came after five minutes, Shilo figured it was safe to come out. Whoever it was had probably moved on by now. She opened the door to the staircase that led up to the hideout --


-- and had to bite back a scream. A dark figure was slumped halfway up the stairs, and even in the dim light she could see the long blonde hair streaked with colour. Liquid trickled down the steps toward her.




“Oh fuck,” she swore, willing herself not to panic. “Graves...can you hear me?”


There was no response. She swore again. “Just...just stay here, okay?” She clambered past him and booked it up the rest of the stairs.


“Heron!” she yelled. “Heron, come quick, you have to come here!”


“Why? What's going on?” the doctor asked, even as she allowed Shilo to grab her hand and pull er toward the door.


“It's Graverobber, he's hurt really bad,” Shilo explained, and Heron swore. She motioned to Louis and Leslie, who got up and followed her.


She swore again as they reached Graverobber's inert form. Without needing to be told, Louis and Leslie gathered him up between them and carried him up the rest of the stairs, laying him on the couch.


Fortunately, the building they were using as a hideout somehow still had electricity and running water. Heron turned on every light in the place and ordered Shilo to retrieve towels and a bucket of water, as much as she could carry.


Shilo didn't want to leave Graverobber, but she knew better than to disobey Heron, especially at a time like this. She took off through the darkened hallways, searching for anything that might be useful.


By the time she got back with the requested items, Heron had assessed the damage, and her face was very grim.


“How bad is it?” Shilo asked, dreading the answer.


“It's bad,” Heron confirmed.


“How bad?”


“Shilo, I don't think --”


How bad?” she demanded, fighting the urge to yell.


Heron swallowed. “Unless I can stop the bleeding within the next few minutes, he's going to lose his leg.”