A Scripta

I was a posting maven yesterday. I did three things.

First, this was a response to a post by Wir where she had Electryck tear out part of Rusty's shoulder because she thought that Rusty would take Sapphire away. Rusty head-butted her and ran like hell.

Rusty ran, seeing his impending death with every step. If I’m going to die, then why am I running?

Instinct overrode the panic and crushed that dissenting voice. He knocked over crates as he tore through alleyways and turned sharp corners. One path opened up in his sight, only one, one he hadn't done in a very long time. He could hear her roar of fury not very far behind him.

The alleyway opened up to a dock where a huge tanker lay moored. Dockworkers looked up at the red bird-woman's cry, not at Rusty's approach. He got to an open section of the dock and stopped. He planted his feet firmly, tossed his head up defiantly, watched as the red streak headed right for him. He heard only the thump of his blood in his ears, saw only the red and white wings flapping and getting closer and closer -

She slammed hard into him. It was like hitting a brick wall. She fell backwards on the tarmac.

Rusty, his hands balled into fists and his focus entirely on the red form on the ground, took two steps to the stunned raptor. He ignored the fact that she was female; he didn't even see her as a human, only as a predator who had injured him. He ignored that he would be weak with his left arm, that he looked through the red haze of blood in his left eye. His rage blinded him to eveything but his focus - it even blinded his foresight. He approached her from behind and stomped hard on her wings, close to her back. He heard the satisfying snap of bones in the wings.

She roared in agony, twisting to grab and bite him, but Rusty had moved away. He concentrated on the here and now, using her movements to predict her actions. When she twisted, he kicked her hard in the face.

That wasn't enough, and only served to enrage her further. Fine, he thought, and kicked her again. She grabbed at him, raking his leg, her nails going through his boot to the flesh. He didn't feel it. He stepped away so she could get to her knees.

"Coup de grace, bitch," he snarled, and stepped forward, delivering a full-body uppercut right on the Angel's jaw. The force of it picked her up and slammed her down on her shattered wings.

He stood over the unconscious creature and waited to be sure she wouldn't move. As the dockworkers bled out from behind the assorted crates to examine the battle's results, he turned and walked away, heading toward the ferry.

Then, Sapphire posted that she shot Rusty point blank and dumped his body into the bay.

Next, is this.

Hope almost jumped out of her chair when someone threw open her door. Her natural center of calm allowed her to only turn her head to see who came in.

Rusty stood in the doorway, shirtless with a huge gouge across his forehead that almost reached his left eye. She continued her visual assessment; he was missing part of his shoulder. "I need medical assistance," he said shortly.

"What happened?" She noted the gouges on his forehead that had generated most of the blood on his face.

"Just fix it," he snarled, sitting down hard on her bed. "I'll need to get back to the ship and get some Permacol to rebuild my shoulder."

"If you wish to return to the ship we must inform Emerald."

"Yeah, yeah, fine, fine, go by the god damn book. Go on, get her before the graft won't take."

Hope tapped her communicator which sent a ping to Emerald. Since each ping was distinct for each member of the crew, Emerald would know exactly who was contacting her. She only needed to look at the automatic GPS to find out where Hope was - two doors down.

Emerald entered the room as the door was still open. "Rusty! What happened to you?"

Rusty glared at her defiantly. "I just got my shoulder ripped out by a man-eating angel and my ass kicked by your great-something grandmother."

This has set up Emerald to respond. Lastly, I decided to post Masonry's aftermath. The first one is when Masonry meets up with Scott and it didn't change from the post that I presented here. However, I redid the second post below to have a set-up for Kit.

"Kit, I can't."

Kit turned sideways on the couch and saw Masonry standing shirtless in his jeans and boots, holding his armor and costume in his arms as if to present them to someone. His mace was placed squarely on top of the small pile. Then he dropped everything, the metal arms clanging on the wood floor, the mace teetering off the pile to roll sideways onto the floor.

"What's the matter? Everything okay?"

"I didn't realize that it was attuned to Nathan's body chemistry. Most of the time the rock was in him, not just in this."

"Mase, what're you talking about?"

"The armor. I can't make the rocks anymore."

"I can try and fix it for you." She looked down at the arm bands that served as his armor. Masonry gave her a slight smile; she had been itching to tear it apart since they day they met.

"Sure, if you want." He took the mace from the pile. It felt too light and awkward in his hand. "I don't think I'm ready to go out yet."

Kit looked at the armor, then to the communicator, then to Masonry. Masonry let the mace fall out of his hand and hit the wood floor, sticking into it for a moment before falling over again. "Let's go take care of this now," she said, and jumped off of the couch.

"But Jake and Syn - "

She was already talking into the comm mike, "Jake, yeah, hi - no, I - wait. I'm going to have to go after the Freakshow later; I have to help Mase here get his armor up and working. Sure. Have a drink for me. Bye." She had arrived at the pile of armor and bent to lift up an arm. It was heavier than she thought and she dropped it. "Geez, Mase, how do you walk around with this?"

He picked up the pile as if it was a mere mound of clothes. "You get used to it." He followed Kit into her workshop.

"Put it right there," she pointed to a table in the center of the room which was immaculately cleared. Everything else in the workshop seemed a hodgepodge of tools, gadgets, items half completed, but very neatly set in boxes and groupings.

"Darce'd be jealous," he said, stepping back and leaning against a counter. She pulled at one of the arms and yanked it toward her.

She took a simple Allen wrench and started to separate the parts. "What did you mean it was attuned to Nathan's body chemistry?"

"I'm not Nathan."

She kept her eyes on the armor but her hands stopped working. "So who are you?"

"Masonry."

Now she looked up at him to see him standing there, his arms crossed, smiling at her. "So what's going on? What's so funny?"

"Nathan believed that you were smart enough to come to your own conclusions when presented with answers to your questions. I was answering your questions with, uh, 'just the facts, ma'am'."

"What are you?"

"A Kheldian blended with a human host."

She put her tools down and her eyes widened. "A squid!" she whispered.

He shook his head. "I can't assume that form. I'm too perfectly blended."

She blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's difficult to explain."

"Try me."

"Usually, when a Kheldian bonds with a human, one consciousness asserts itself over the other, or a common ground is found where both consciousnesses share the same body. In my case, Nathan died, and Benakasar the Kheldian also died, but their memories and knowledge, and the emotions attached to those memories, are mine."

"Nathan's dead?"

"Yes."

She stared at the armor, then Masonry, then the armor again. He watched her concernedly and wished he knew what was going on in her head."Kit, I can't."

Kit turned sideways on the couch and saw Masonry standing shirtless in his jeans and boots, holding his armor and costume in his arms as if to present them to someone. His mace was placed squarely on top of the small pile. Then he dropped everything, the metal arms clanging on the wood floor, the mace teetering off the pile to roll sideways onto the floor.

"What's the matter? Everything okay?"

"I didn't realize that it was attuned to Nathan's body chemistry. Most of the time the rock was in him, not just in this."

"Mase, what're you talking about?"

"The armor. I can't make the rocks anymore."

"I can try and fix it for you." She looked down at the arm bands that served as his armor. Masonry gave her a slight smile; she had been itching to tear it apart since they day they met.

"Sure, if you want." He took the mace from the pile. It felt too light and awkward in his hand. "I don't think I'm ready to go out yet."

Kit looked at the armor, then to the communicator, then to Masonry. Masonry let the mace fall out of his hand and hit the wood floor, sticking into it for a moment before falling over again. "Let's go take care of this now," she said, and jumped off of the couch.

"But Jake and Syn - "

She was already talking into the comm mike, "Jake, yeah, hi - no, I - wait. I'm going to have to go after the Freakshow later; I have to help Mase here get his armor up and working. Sure. Have a drink for me. Bye." She had arrived at the pile of armor and bent to lift up an arm. It was heavier than she thought and she dropped it. "Geez, Mase, how do you walk around with this?"

He picked up the pile as if it was a mere mound of clothes. "You get used to it." He followed Kit into her workshop.

"Put it right there," she pointed to a table in the center of the room which was immaculately cleared. Everything else in the workshop seemed a hodgepodge of tools, gadgets, items half completed, but very neatly set in boxes and groupings.

"Darce'd be jealous," he said, stepping back and leaning against a counter. She pulled at one of the arms and yanked it toward her.

She took a simple Allen wrench and started to separate the parts. "What did you mean it was attuned to Nathan's body chemistry?"

"I'm not Nathan."

She kept her eyes on the armor but her hands stopped working. "So who are you?"

"Masonry."

Now she looked up at him to see him standing there, his arms crossed, smiling at her. "So what's going on? What's so funny?"

"Nathan believed that you were smart enough to come to your own conclusions when presented with answers to your questions. I was answering your questions with, uh, 'just the facts, ma'am'."

"What are you?"

"A Kheldian blended with a human host."

She put her tools down and her eyes widened. "A squid!" she whispered.

He shook his head. "I can't assume that form. I'm too perfectly blended."

She blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's difficult to explain."

"Try me."

"Usually, when a Kheldian bonds with a human, one consciousness asserts itself over the other, or a common ground is found where both consciousnesses share the same body. In my case, Nathan died, and Benakasar the Kheldian also died, but their memories and knowledge, and the emotions attached to those memories, are mine."

"Nathan's dead?"

"Yes."

She stared at the armor, then Masonry, then the armor again. He watched her concernedly and wished he knew what was going on in her head.

So now I wait for responses.