“Y/N…” A familiar, muffled voice whispered and your blood ran cold.

You glared at him with distrust, struggling against his grip.

When the carnage was done and you managed to slide your helmet back on, Nathan stopped you.

You watched the other Repo Man bash the man’s skull in and you were thankful it wasn’t the brain you were due to take from that specific person.

He was over you in an instant, protect you from the next swing of the same scared city goer.

His eyes widened as he turned to see you, bleeding from your head and glaring as you tried to find your mask.

“SON OF A BITCH.” You growled in anger, your voice familiar without the muffled headgear, and Nathan froze.

That was until someone, in a desperate keen for self defense, hit you upside the head hard enough to knock your helmet off.

The event was insane, and you and Nathan were focused hard on your jobs, your mutual distrust of another one of your kind warranted and respected as the two of you worked.

Lock them in the warehouse they had set up in and slaughter them like animals

A group of ravers, all whose organs expired, and Rotti thought it easiest to mow them down in one go.

The both of you are on a job one day, requiring two repo-men not because it was HARD but because it was such a large one.

He’d tell you what his line of work was if he was doing something.

You, likewise, have had an inkling but believe Nathan to be an honest man.

That combined with the very mild memory loss and near split personality like The Repo Man - well - it’s kind of obvious he doesn’t really notice.

He doesn’t notice when you sneak off on some nights, kissing him and mumbling something about work or sneaking out in the night and coming home smelling faintly of copper (he thinks its himself).Nathan tries so hard to keep his work life and his private life separate to the point of near blindness to clues that point to them entwining.

Nathan wallace repo the genetic opera