A/N: I've been writing for a while in The Writers Lounge and accumulated quite a few one-shots. I've been meaning to post them for a while, but as most of them are quite short, I figured that I would put them into a collection rather than bombard the category with a million tiny stories.

I'll be posting a new drabble every one-to-two days until I've run out of things to post (then, well, we'll see where it goes from there). Pairings and/or warnings will be posted at the beginning of each fic.

Review's are worshiped and as always, enjoy dearies!

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Infected

warnings/pairings: loosely based on the movie Repo! The Genetic Opera. No pairings.

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He watches from his window as the days pass, each one as though through a television; he is set aside, an outsider, an observer, unable to participate through the drama unfolding below.

Hookers, Zydrate addicts, street rats, freakshow's, he's seen them all from between the iron bars that keep him locked high above the street. His father has told him repeatedly that the outside world will kill him.

"Noah, your blood disease," his father ran a hand through graying dark locks, tugging the necklace around his neck, "It's just," He grips his hair in frustration as Noah asks 'why' for the umpteenth time. "You can't. That's final. I'm your father. Your doctor. What happens if you collapse out there? You could die, Noah."

Sometimes Noah thinks that death would be more interesting than four walls and a heavily barred window.

He clings to the rusting iron, feeling the cold metal bite into his skin as he swings his feet. He felt like a bird in a cage; trapped in these four walls, a slave to his illness, to his father, to his mother's tainted blood that bore him.

"Oh," he sings softly, looking up at the moon as it appears from behind the clouds, ice ringed and beautiful. "I want to go.."

He wanted to join the masses.

He wanted freedom.

More than anything.

"Outside.."

One step, beyond this room.

Noah quickly pulls away from the window as he hears a shatter, jumping from the window seat back into his room as his mirror crashed into the floor.

A man in a black overcoat stands in a hole in the where Noah's mirror, where his wall used to be. He holds a glass vial filled with glowing blue something in his free hand, tucking it into his coat as he coughs, running his hand over his grimy face.

"Hey kid," the man says as Noah feels his heart begin to race in fear, hoping his father had heard all the calmor. The man reaches up to brush back a strip of green hair that had flopped into his face, smiling rakishly at Noah throuh the layers of dust and dirt on his skin. "Runnin' from the suits, think I can crash here for a while?"

Noah's breath comes in short panting gasps, the communicator on his wrist began to blink. Blood pressure warning. Medicate immediately. Blood pressur- He falls to his knees, grasping at his chest. "I can't breathe! I need my pills, I need my medicine! Dad, Dad-"

"Kid?" Noah can hear hear concern in the man's voice as the world begins to blur around him, black creeping into the edges of his vision.

The pounding of feet up the stairs is the last thing he hears before the darkness takes him.