Kurt hated his job.

It wasn't even a job; it was something to keep food on the table and the clothes on his back. He was ashamed of it, but to avoid from thinking this job made him less of a person, he convinced himself that it was the money he needed to stay alive in this hellhole – he needed it because there were no other job opportunities. There were no jobs at all really, unless he wanted to work for GeneCo.

But even Kurt Hummel wasn't that low.

So he spent his afternoons (or was it evenings? One could never tell, considering the thick fog looming over Lima, making days seem as if they were nights) in graveyards, sticking needles into the skulls of dead bodies, getting the essence that would be Zydrate.

It was the best and worst drug. Its purpose was to inject GeneCo patients with it so they couldn't feel anything during surgery, but because it was addictive, some people started buying vials of it in the black market. And that was how Grave Robbers came about – to take Zydrate from dead bodies and selling it to drug users for thousands of dollars.

From just one vile, Kurt was paid $500 up front, but that would be just from his poor costumers. He upped the price for the rich folks, but of course no one knew that, so he received about $900 per vile from them.

His best customer was Cooper Anderson, who paid nearly $3,000 every month for just five little vials. Kurt wondered why Cooper needed to purchase the addictive sedative off the black market when he could have all the Zydrate he wanted, being the second president of GeneCo and all. Then again, if he were Cooper, he wouldn't take from his dad's company, so perhaps that was the young Anderson's reasoning.

Kurt wasn't an addict himself, but he still felt dirty being a Grave Robber. Although he had to admit that if it weren't for his friend and fellow Grave Robber, Sebastian Smythe, the brunet would be close to death on the streets by now.

"So the Repo Man is on the loose once more. We better get going and lock our doors tonight."

Sebastian smirked, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder as the blue-eyed counted the money they made that night. Sebastian was a user, but since he respected Kurt enough, he didn't pressure the kid into even trying Zydrate.

"I'm waiting on my last customer," Kurt told him. "They text'd me a short notice and they have the money right now for two vials."

"Hmm, I say we ditch the shithead and go back to my place," Sebastian whispered in the brunet's ear, "and you should keep me entertained."

Unfazed, Kurt shrugged the other boy off him, handing him half of the money. "You go ahead," he said. "I'll be fine without your horse teeth scaring the police away."

"Hmph, it's no fun without my fuck buddy," Sebastian pouted.

"Your fuck buddy? I thought you were mine."

"Ha, ha, ha, I broke a lung at that one. I might need a transplant."

"Go home, Sebastian." Kurt grinned. At least his friend was able to have a bit of humor with him in this awful world.

After attempting a couple more times to get Kurt to go home with him, the Grave Robbers finally said their goodbyes and Sebastian walked back to their apartment complex. They were neighbors and Kurt very much preferred they stayed that way. It wasn't just Sebastian that Kurt couldn't live with; it was that Kurt couldn't live with anyone.

Sighing, the brunet leaned against a brick wall, waiting. He fiddled with his watch, which was also an advanced cellphone. He received a text from his late customer. "On my way," the message read. It would be great if they got there faster, Kurt desperately needed the money. What he got that day wasn't enough and he was already two weeks late on his payment.

Kurt was badly injured when he was young. Some guys had beaten him up for being gay, and the fight cost him his eyesight. When he heard about GeneCo two years before, he first refused. It was a sick and twisted company and he never wanted to get involved. His dad, however, thought it was best to get the surgery. So a year later, they were able to come up with the money to put Kurt on a payment plan.

The surgery was a success and Kurt couldn't be happier to have stunning new eyes. The downside was paying GeneCo back. Sebastian allowed him only a couple hundred for the first two payments, which was a huge relief.

Cooper Anderson didn't come around by the time Kurt needed to make his third payment, so he had to use all the money he made, plus whatever he had saved in his apartment. The cost for his eyes was absolutely ridiculous; how could anyone afford to constantly get organ transplants, rich or not?

An hour passed by before Sebastian started calling him. A holographic picture of the slick boy hovered over Kurt's watch.

"The offer still stands, Hummel," Sebastian said. Kurt could hear the smirk the other boy was wearing on his face.

"How do you know I'm not home yet?" Kurt asked.

"I would've heard you jackin –"

"Sebastian!" Kurt cut him off when he spotted a dark figure at the end of the alleyway. "They're here, I'll be home soon. Don't worry about me." Before the other Grave Robber could make a comeback, Kurt silenced his watch and stood up straight, watching the figure walking towards him.

It wasn't until the blue-eyed caught glimpse of the rubber suit and helmet when he realized it wasn't a costumer.

It was a Repo Man.