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Rumors were a wondrous thing. They turned the ordinary into the spectacular. Elevating a single repo man to the status of legend. Just because one dressed a little differently--sleeker with a slightly different mask--and executed his job with impressive precision, he was something special. If one believed the rumors, there was a whole crew of them, surgically enhanced and modified, the newest brand of repo men. But he was just one man who took particular pleasure in his job and his privacy. So few saw him actually strike, hence the rumors from those who'd only had glimpses. They needed something to explain what they'd seen. Something that suited their drug-addled, surgery-addicted fevered brains. A bogey man who could sneak behind them and rob them of their implants before anyone even realized the repo man was there. One even said their friend had been sliced down in front of them. One moment she was talking to him, the next she fell to the ground, the masked man holding her still beating heart in his gloved hand.
When Billy started spotting the graverobber, he became suspicious. At first he'd chalked it up to coincidence. Or someone with an inside lead to who couldn't pay their debts. But he was seen far too frequently. Too consistently. Billy used certain routes, so it could still be mere coincidence. And the graverobber never seemed to spot him. But he couldn't take the chance.
So Billy laid a trap. And when Mike walked right into it, he descended. A syringe to the neck was all it took.
As the drugs wore off, Mike would find himself strapped to an operating table with thick leather straps, spread eagle. The room around him was dimly lit, adorned with a plethora of tools. Billy crouched above him, one knee and one foot planted on the surface of the table, right across Mike's hips. He was patting the graverobber's face. Though he still wore the full mask that obscured his face, the broad grin could practically be heard. Almost as clearly as his accent. "Rise and shine, sweetheart."
When Billy started spotting the graverobber, he became suspicious. At first he'd chalked it up to coincidence. Or someone with an inside lead to who couldn't pay their debts. But he was seen far too frequently. Too consistently. Billy used certain routes, so it could still be mere coincidence. And the graverobber never seemed to spot him. But he couldn't take the chance.
So Billy laid a trap. And when Mike walked right into it, he descended. A syringe to the neck was all it took.
As the drugs wore off, Mike would find himself strapped to an operating table with thick leather straps, spread eagle. The room around him was dimly lit, adorned with a plethora of tools. Billy crouched above him, one knee and one foot planted on the surface of the table, right across Mike's hips. He was patting the graverobber's face. Though he still wore the full mask that obscured his face, the broad grin could practically be heard. Almost as clearly as his accent. "Rise and shine, sweetheart."
