A Scripta

Timetripper, in more casual clothes for once, looked over at Grimaulkin. Grim was sitting quietly in the library, his legs folded under him on the couch, reading a book. She quietly walked over to him. “Hiya, Grim.”

He looked up, closed the book. “Hey. You got my message.”

“Yeah.” She sat down on the couch next to him. “Grim, we’ve never kicked anyone out.”

“Things are different now, Trip. We’re hunted.”

“People need to know they’re safe. That’s what we’re here for.”

“We’re not the goddamn Salvation Army! We’re not a soup kitchen, either!”

“What about the homeless man you brought in, the painter?”

“He’s got magic. I don’t know why, but I think I need to watch him.”

“Luther was lost when he came here, Grim.”

“And he’s fine now. He doesn’t need us!”

“So you want me to kick him out because of his past? We’ve accepted everyone, regardless of their past.”

“That has to change, Trip. It’s a dangerous world out there. People are out to get us.”

“You’re sounding paranoid.”

“You didn’t get your dick cut in half!”

Trip bit her lip. “All right, I’ll ask him.”

“No need,” came a deeply accented voice from below them. Trip and Grim looked over the railing to see a man in black and grey standing there, a knapsack over his shoulder. He looked up at them. “I have cleaned out my locker.” He set down the keycard – and something else - on the table.

“Luther,” Trip called, and swung off the couch and ran down the stairs. He waited for her to go to him. “Wait, let me give you a letter of recommendation, something…”

“Nein,” he responded. “It is better to go where they do not wish to know of my past.”

“Where are you going to go?”

He shrugged. “I do not know.” He nodded to Trip. “Danke, mien fraulein, for all you have done for me.”

Trip wiped her eyes. Grim rolled his eyes and went back to his book. Luther left without a backwards glance.

Trip went over to the table and picked up the keycard. She looked down at the other thing he had left.

His hero ID.