Sitting crosslegged on the floor of the garage, Scud turns one of the girls' toys around and around in his hands: it's a miniature carousel, and the wind up music box inside the center is broken. He doesn't want to break it to get inside, but cutting and repairing the base will be a task he'll want to be very careful about. And so he's ( Read more... )

Even though not much is a worry for the pard anymore (besides themselves), Scud still plays with his weapons designs, still keeps his security systems updated. Several projects he never got a chance to work on remain, but a few of them are finished and lying on the bench in a row.

( Four stake shotgun. )

Blade II commentary on how many joints Scud smokes (12), and the infamous smoke bubble trick. Funniest part ever: "It's a bar trick he has, to pick up chicks ... actually I think that's how he picked up Helena Christensen!"

The house is safer than safe, never so much a sanctuary for him as a hive in which he's thoroughly enmeshed. Even pressed against Gabe with blood and fluid drying cool lines on his skin, his dreams are restless as a time machine. He's not had the history the others have had with Raina, but the smell of her blood -- from the birth, from her death, ( Read more... )

( not much of a letter, unfortunately )

The month after the funeral was full of work that he didn't have to do and that, a few years ago, he wouldn't've -- not even with his kid sister hanging around, almost making a nuisance of herself with those long clumsy sunburned limbs, her hurt eagerness to be some kind of help. He didn't snap at her, of course. He's good with kids, and she wanted ( Read more... )

... uh yeah, I finally ... got that call. From my little sister. Cause dad up and died. That's not really the surprisin' thing though and s'all right with me, we weren't doing so good. But apparently I'm in his will... I can't help but wonder what the fuck he has for me to inherit. "To my lousy son Stephen, if he's still alive: a kick in the ( Read more... )

Smoking on the front step, Scud considers the past week and the hazy future. It's not exactly deep thinking. He doesn't know what he'd call it. Foolishness, maybe, or obsessive; both sound pretty accurate, so obsessive foolishness. Pulling back mentally from this problem, he exhales slow and relaxed, mouth pursed just so. The bubble of smoke leaves ( Read more... )

So that's what it's like to get nexus, lol'd.

Squinting as he adjusted the light towards the gun in his hands, Scud absentmindedly sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to chew. If he slipped up this time, he wouldn't be able to try again until the next time the kid was in town --

Snap.He dropped the gun with a clatter, sitting back in disgust. He took a deep breath, then flung the two halves ( Read more... )