It looms in the dark. It stares at him, taunting him. He stares back, feeling the conflicting emotions inside that come nightly. The anticipation. The revulsion. The acceptance. The disgust. Round and round they go. The urges: to become part of it o to turn his back on it.
The black bag sits on the little counter successivo to it, illuminated da the portable television’s glow. The bag is filled with the tools he needs to complete his task each night. Tools that, he, himself hates to clean. He can almost hear them calling his name. They whisper to him…encourage him to go ahead with what he needs to do. What he’s paid to do.
But, he doesn’t want to do it. Not tonight. Not any night. Yet, it pays the bills. Gives them food, shelter and clothing. All blood money to him in nearly every sense of the phrase. He knows his Amore wouldn’t approve; not da a long shot. It’s to keep the girl safe, from the world and from his boss. It’s also to keep the Boss from telling on him to her. To ruin it all and make him pay for the death. His communicator beeps again. Time to do a thankless job. He reaches for the helmet, removing his glasses. He swings on the giacca and picks up the bag. Once again, the Repo Man is born. He leaves the Televisione on; there’s nothing but static. The volume is low. It sounds eerily like:
Nathan, Nathan, Nathan……
The black bag sits on the little counter successivo to it, illuminated da the portable television’s glow. The bag is filled with the tools he needs to complete his task each night. Tools that, he, himself hates to clean. He can almost hear them calling his name. They whisper to him…encourage him to go ahead with what he needs to do. What he’s paid to do.
But, he doesn’t want to do it. Not tonight. Not any night. Yet, it pays the bills. Gives them food, shelter and clothing. All blood money to him in nearly every sense of the phrase. He knows his Amore wouldn’t approve; not da a long shot. It’s to keep the girl safe, from the world and from his boss. It’s also to keep the Boss from telling on him to her. To ruin it all and make him pay for the death. His communicator beeps again. Time to do a thankless job. He reaches for the helmet, removing his glasses. He swings on the giacca and picks up the bag. Once again, the Repo Man is born. He leaves the Televisione on; there’s nothing but static. The volume is low. It sounds eerily like:
Nathan, Nathan, Nathan……
**Based on Terrance Zdunich's commento on Zydrate Anatomy being a nursery rhyme
I have a blue glow
In a little glass vial
Won't te come and
Stay for awhile?
I'll give te a hit;
First time's free
But like any other dealer
I come with a fee.
A zap to the skin
A needle in a bug
There's an underground way
To obtain the drug.
There's a rich scalpel slut
Addicted to the knife.
But she hasn't realized,
It's shortening her life
Damn, the GeneCops are here
We've really gotta run
But successivo time I'll bring
My Zydrate gun
(I'm probably annoying te to death with my fanfics)
I have a blue glow
In a little glass vial
Won't te come and
Stay for awhile?
I'll give te a hit;
First time's free
But like any other dealer
I come with a fee.
A zap to the skin
A needle in a bug
There's an underground way
To obtain the drug.
There's a rich scalpel slut
Addicted to the knife.
But she hasn't realized,
It's shortening her life
Damn, the GeneCops are here
We've really gotta run
But successivo time I'll bring
My Zydrate gun
(I'm probably annoying te to death with my fanfics)