He had met her several years before. Her father, Rotti Largo, had bought her a rhinoplasty for her sixteenth birthday. Well actually, he had made her get the rhinoplasty.

Amber didn't realize then, but that single action had been what sent her on a spiral to self perfection. She never wanted her father to be ashamed of her looks again.

Graverobber didn't know the circumstances surrounding it when she first came to him, but over time he had found out that during the procedure the surgeon had accidentally sewn the incision shut over a nerve, leading to an incredibly painful recovery. Carmela, as she had introduced herself, had run through her allotted stash of zydrate while healing and had been wandering around looking for a dealer when he found her.

He had thought her beautiful then, before she started cutting herself up. He hadn't wanted to start giving her zydrate; he knew it was very hard to stop taking it and most people ended up addicted to it. But when she held out that stack of cash to him with a trembling hand, he could not resist. He remembered how her eyes were swollen and puffy from crying.

"Please," she had spoken to him softly, trying to not be heard by the z-whores at the other end of the alley. "Please...I can't bear it...the pain..."

He had reached his hand out and pocketed the money. "Are you sure?," he asked her, shoving the stash in his pocket. Once you bought street zydrate, you rarely went back.

She nodded 'yes' slowly.

She had been afraid when she saw the needle, and drew back from him. He spoke to her then in a calm tone.

"You can walk away, if you want. I can give you the money back."

She looked to the gun, then to him and shook her head 'no'. Her tongue ran out to wet her cracked lips and she spoke quietly, "I can't stand it."

He gave her a slow nod and removed the glowing blue vial from the belt at his waist, loading the drug into the barrel. He cocked it and took a step towards her effectively pinning her up against a wall. Suddenly terrified, she instinctively drew her hands up. He stopped immediately.

"I'm sorry," she started. "I just don't want it to hurt...I-...I don't want anything to hurt anymore."

He reached for her arm slowly and pulled her right arm to him, turning it up to him and rubbing along the underside, several inches beneath the wrist.

"Everyone is nervous their first time," he said gently, his gloved thumb running in circles along the skin which made her involuntarily shiver. "And trust me," he continued, "nothing will hurt after this."

He brought the gun to her arm and counted.

"One...two...-,"

She opened her mouth to say something or protest, which one he'd never know, for he triggered the gun before he could count to three; before she could change her mind.

And being so inexperienced in street zydrate, her body lost all tension and she crumpled. He reached his arm around her back quickly, catching her and supporting her weight against him as he lowered her to the ground, following.

Shit.

Should he bring her back home? It was Carmela Largo, obviously. Should he leave her here?

He couldn't leave her here in an alley.

Shit.

He quickly holstered his gun.

"Carmela," he spoke, shaking her gently and grasping her face between thumb and forefinger.

"Wake up," he said, more insistently this time, but she did not stir.

This would really not look good, he thought to himself. Largo's oh-so-pure daughter here, in an alley, with a zydrate dealer. Muttering a string of curses he ran his arms under her, one supporting her shoulders, the other behind her knees and lifted her slight form with ease.

He turned and quickly hurried through the alleyways; someplace Largo's men would never look for him.