A Scripta

Grim got rudely shaken awake by the boathand. "Yo. We're here."

Grim nodded, and picked up his bag and coat. He uncurled his wings that had been crushed underneath him - good thing they had no nerves attached to them except at the base - and stood up, stretching and yawning. He wove his way through the freight frigate's bowels to find his way topside. He nodded at the captain and took the gangplank to shore.

Sharkhead seemed pretty busy. He ignored the Scrapyarders, who gave him a double take with his black skin and blue wings. If they wanted to try anything with him, he was prepared. In fact, he wanted them to try something. He headed to the Chum Bucket, walked past it, to another nondescript corner building. He pushed his way inside and was assaulted by something that grabbed at his mind, attempting to yank it out of his skull. He had expected this, and put up defenses.

"Grimaulkin?" came a voice at the end of the room.

"You remembered."

"Nobody else is that creative with PVC pipe, duct tape, and human orafices." A tall, thin man came out from the back, and held out his hand. "How the hell are you?"

"Good, Petey." He shook his hand. "See you're still in business." He looked around the place.

"Meh, the usual. What're you looking for?" He walked back toward a counter with an old fashioned crank cash register.

"I need a place to stay for a couple of days. Maybe longer."

"Madame Purpur's bordello is still open. She loves you."

"She loved the customers Dysio brought in."

"Where is he, anyway?"

"Gone. Banished him."

Petey nodded. "Incubi kind of get annoying after a few months. That all you're looking for?"

"Does Joey still work at the city morgue?"

"Joey Sistek? Yeah, I think so. Been a couple of months since I've heard otherwise."

"Hm..."

"Looking for bones?"

"Yeah, I'm all out."

"Enough winos in the alley."

"In a pinch, I suppose. But they move around alot."

"You don't kill them?"

He said it so nonchalantly, and Grim realized what he had gotten himself back into. He found himself gulping nervously. He knew Petey noticed it. The old Grim wouldn't have thought twice about stabbing a wino through and taking all his fingers one by one. What the hell was he doing here?

Grim said, to cover up his discomfort, "I'd rather have them already dead. Less messy."

"Heh, pansy," Petey said. "Kill them at a distance." He held up his finger in the shape of a gun. "Pew, pew."

"Don't need a gun."

"Then go to town, man."

Grim chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "Okay, see you later, then."

"Nice seeing you again. Stop in anytime."

Grim closed the door quietly and looked out at the blighted landscape of Sharkhead. Really...what the hell was he doing here? He told Kalius he wanted to be free, but he really didn't want to go back to what he was. He liked Havens. He loved the people there - except...

Jack and Raina had changed. The technomancers and all their machinations had changed them, and by force, changed them all. Grim had never felt such pure hate, that he would want to kill a man on sight, even against John he didn't feel this. John he could play with and tease. These technomancers...no. If he tried to do anything, they would come up with something to counteract him. And even as he fought them, Jack and Raina didn't want him to - for the sake of the babies.

He looked out at the alleyway and saw the wino there, passed out. "Fuckin' babies," he spat, and walked over to the man. He knelt down next to him as his rage coursed through him. Then he took a deep breath and focused that energy into a rune that he drew on the man's chest. It flared red, and disappeared into his clothes. The man suddenly started to gasp, and put his hands to his chest, pulling at his clothes. Grim waited for the heart to stop.

"Fuck your 17 words," Grim said, as he watched the man die. "I got runes."