Chapter Text
Shilo woke up to what sounded like another argument downstairs. Mag had moved in with them just a week ago, which had been incredible at first when her and Nathan had kept it together, even if there was clear tension between them, especially due to his continued profession as the Repo Man. However, after about three days, that tension had finally exploded into hushed arguments that only occurred after Shilo went to sleep, a common occurrence in the household. It was almost always over things that couldn’t be controlled, but Shilo decided not to butt in. After all, that could probably make it much worse. Both of them had changed drastically after the opera, her father growing easily irritated and colder, and her godmother becoming reclusive and quieter, rarely interacting with her or Nathan aside from the occasional greetings and the arguments.
After lying in bed with her eyes on the ceiling for a few minutes, Shilo sat up, sliding out of bed and adjusting the covers. She tossed on the day’s outfit, heading downstairs to pop some toast in the toaster for breakfast. Shilo missed the first week after Nathan had come home, back when she’d finally convinced him to let Mag stay and both had just acted like the opera never happened.
However, with the injuries both had sustained, mentally and physically, the charade stayed up for barely a day before Mag broke down on the couch and Nathan literally crumpled to the ground due to overexertion. Turns out that in recovery from being shot, rest is very important. As she reached the kitchen, which was where the two were fighting again, she noted that this was the most common of their arguments, the one of Nathan keeping in his profession of the Repo Man. She opened the fridge, grabbing the bag of bread and half considering shutting herself inside of the cooling machine to avoid hearing the two, but decided against it. She popped two slices of bread into the toaster, hearing Mag head back upstairs and Nathan sigh deeply as he sat down at the kitchen table.
“Dad? Are you alright?”
Nathan sighed again in response.
“Shilo, you don’t need to worry about these things, okay? Just eat your breakfast.”
She nodded sullenly, collecting her toast as it sprung back up and sitting down across from him. Nathan had fixed himself a plate of scrambled eggs, and another plate sat on the side of the table between them, though abandoned. She noted this, adding it to her hopeful list of denial that all of the arguments were just staged events. Nathan finally broke the silence.
“Shy, do you remember how I told you that some things are best to leave alone?”
The memory of that stung like an angry hornet as she thought of it again, the memory of the first time when her father had raised his voice, and the first time he’d ever told her to shut up. She nodded to him, noting that she did in fact remember it.
“What’s going on here is one of those things. It’s nothing for you to worry about, nothing here is your fault or your issue to deal with. Do you understand?”
“Yes, dad.”
“Good. Now-”
Nathan’s contrastingly soft voice was interrupted by the beeping of his wristband, signaling him that he was needed by a ‘patient.’ He cursed under his breath, then stood up shakily. Shilo had no idea why they’d had him go back to work so early, as he still shook when he got to his feet and had some difficulty walking. Even Mag, who had somehow magically gotten onto better terms with Amber Sweet than her dead friend’s husband, had been able to request and be granted a decent amount of time off. But for some reason, Nathan had chosen not to speak up and to instead return to work as usual.
“Shy, I need to go. One of my patients needs me.”
Shilo felt like she’d been hit by a brick. Why did he still need to talk about his career like that? She knew who he really was, and he was fully aware of this, but he still acted like he was a surgeon. It hurt knowing that despite everything, she still wasn’t worthy of his trust. She nodded wordlessly as he headed to the fireplace so that he could retrieve what he needed and exit, wondering just where everything had gone wrong.
~~~
Things hadn’t been the same at GeneCo after the opera. Amber especially hadn’t been the same, and frankly, neither had her brothers. She found herself taking even more Zydrate than before, then rewinding the clip of her facial disaster and rewatching it until the drug numbed the thought of it away completely. Despite her assistants and advisors all begging her to go clean, Amber resisted. The ‘Z’ didn’t affect her performance as the head of GeneCo, there wasn’t a point to it. Money had been coming in like never before, especially after the opera. First there were Nathan and Mag needing surgeries to stay alive, then those injured in the riots afterward, and finally there were those that took the event as a great time for cosmetic enhancement. Monetarily, it was a success.
Psychologically, it’d been easy. It’d been nothing. Amber hadn’t suffered at all, all that she’d needed was for her face to heal, which was how she’d wound up reconciling with Mag in the first place. When you’re practically bound to a hospital bed, it’s not like there’s many people to keep you from getting too bored. She’d originally been annoyed by the fact that they had wound up in such close proximity to the other, but Mag had grown on her over time, especially after a key chunk of the wall between them had been shattered by the discovery that Mag had never been opposed to Amber’s singing career, and was in fact supportive of her.
This made the rivalry that Amber had formulated, one where the two held a mutual hatred of the other pointless, causing her not to question her purpose in life. She’d been fine. The Zydrate always helped with that. It was all she needed anymore, after all. Sometimes she sat down and asked herself though, questioning her choices, if you will, wondering if it really was all she needed. But it was healthy, as there were no seeming side effects, so she chose to believe that.
~~~
Nathan stalked through the alleyway, serrated knife brandished and gleaming in the dim light that shone through the smog. Due to his own prescribed Zydrate injections, the only pain he felt was the soreness of his shoulder, which was bruised from the repeated puncturing of the wide, drill-like needle. He turned another corner, blade scraping against the concrete walls and causing small sparks to appear as he walked. He examined the area, a satisfied smirk crossing his face as he noticed the gaunt woman at the dead end, her fingers splayed as she attempted to climb the brick wall, and the bright fear in her eyes as she constantly looked black at him.
Nathan let the Repo Man, the part of him that handled these jobs, take over his mind as he walked slowly forward. It often intimidated far more than charging, and even if he couldn’t feel it, it was better not to further irritate the bullet wound in his chest. The woman started to panic, scrambling at the wall and trying to climb quicker like a feral cat, but to no avail. The Repo Man grabbed her by the ankle dragging her to the ground. He was assigned to repossess her liver, which was incredibly painful on its own. He decided that he’d put the poor creature out of her misery first. Holding the knife so that the point of it ever so slightly went against the tip of her nose, he spoke in an eerily soft voice.
“Now…how do we want to do this? The easy way, or the hard way?”
Through his mask, the Repo Man could smell the fruity stench of alcohol on the woman’s breath as she replied, letting him note her yellowed eyes. She’d been wearing through this liver too.
“The easy way.”
She croaked out, reaching up to drunkenly try to move the knife. The night surgeon sighed, deciding to grant this wish as he positioned it above her chest. He raised it, stabbing downward, but stopped before he hit her, hand beginning to shake. Those eyes. That expression. For a split second, he was back with Marni, Marni who’d looked out to him with the same horrified expression after the ‘cure’ had started to set in. Why was this happening? He’d killed hundreds of people, some of them looking even closer to Marni than this intoxicated woman that he’d found haggling for street Zydrate.
This had never happened before, and for a split second, he considered setting the knife down and letting the woman leave. No. That was not the job of the Repo Man. Once again positioning the knife, Nathan closed his eyes and thrust the weapon downwards.