Archive of Our Own

"Blade!" Whistler roared, and Blade heard his mentor pound a fist into a desk. "I thought you were fixing this, that little shit-stain is still locking me out of the research database!"

Blade exhaled slowly, trying not to get riled up. He'd spent most of the day cleaning their new secret warehouse, and he'd been looking forward to sharpening his Katana in peace.

"I thought you could hack anything," he called back.

"Don't get smart with me, you vampiric asshole, get in here!"

He regrettably put the oil aside, the sword shining as he placed it on the rack.

Whistler was typing furiously, bent over the already cluttered work station as Blade walked in. "What's the problem?"

"Look at this!" the old man yelled, pointing at the screen. A twirling marijuana leaf in the corner drew the most attention, and underneath that was a simple text entry box. "Password protected, I can't get the fucking decoder to work."

"Scud took pride in his passwords, I doubt you can break it," Blade said, crossing his arms.

"Well what then, just leave all my designs sitting here, where I can't touch 'em? Shitstain probably made backups for himself, I'm surprised he didn't just delete my copy."

"We'll have to ask him directly." The look Whistler sent him said plenty. "I know, bad idea. But we're having no luck with the Reaper device ourselves, maybe it's time we were in touch with the Blood Pack anyways." Blade smiled slowly, thinking of the personalities involved. "I wonder how Scud's been enjoying his time as Reinhardt's new pet engineer."

Whistler grinned. "I have a feeling not so much."

"Get me a secure channel. I think I can offer something to Reinhardt that'll get us that password."

As Reinhardt leered at him, Blade couldn't help smirking back, knowing exactly what the ugly, bald Nazi was thinking. "Blade, Blade, Blade, what could possibly bring you to my doorstep," Reinhardt said over the scratchy video feed, sprawling back at a high-tech computer console. "I was startin' to think you'd never call."

"Suck his dick later," Whistler cut in rudely, Reinhardt fixing him a look from under sunglasses. "We have business, you sadistic sonofabitch, and don't drag this out thinking it'll give you more time to track our feed. It won't."

"Oh? That's very confident of you."

Blade put a hand on Whistler's shoulder, hoping to stop the self-righteous rant before it started. "We need your new Engineer," Blade said.

"Why?"

"Not that it's your business, but he has a password I need."

"And why would I help you." Reinhardt sat up straighter in his chair, leather coat creaking. "You know," he flashed fangs, "there are other things I'm much more interested in doing to you."

Blade flashed his own, snarling. "Just get me that rat fucker on the line or the deal's off before it starts."

Perking up in curiosity, Reinhardt's fangs vanished. "What deal."

Whistler leaned in closer to the camera. "The one where I hand you Reaper genocide on a platter. That deal."

Scud cursed the Earth mother for the third time, pulling another drawer open and shoving aside the assortment of junk, mainly towels and gloves and sponges.

"You know without bandages, humans are prone to unfortunate conditions like bleeding to death," he called to the vampiress, voice echoing in the large work-room.

"You're the only familiar allowed in here, no-one needed it before," Ulsia replied back under her welding mask, any future conversation cut off as she turned the metal cutter on again, sparks flying.

Scud looked down at the blood dripping off his hand, wincing. An oily rag didn't seem like a good solution, but right now he didn't have a choice. He grabbed one and held it to the meat of his left palm, right under the thumb. The cut didn't hurt bad, but it would probably be irritating as it healed.

"Familiar!" a male voice called loudly, and Scud jolted, spinning so fast the welding mask started to fall off the top of his head. He caught it with his uninjured hand, while a slim vampire, sullen and metrosexual, stalked his way.

Scud took a step back, bumping into the drawers. "Woah, woah, woah, personal space," but the vampire grabbed his upper arm in a vice grip, Scud knowing better than to attempt some kung-fu defense. "What the hell is this?"

The metal cutter turned off. "Devon, I need him, where are you taking him," Ulsia demanded, as Scud was dragged to the door, ditching his mask.

"You think Reinhardt would tell me? Bastard never tells me anything these days," Devon replied, hitting the swish door that opened from the secure, albeit messy, main laboratory to the rest of the bunker. Not that it seemed like a bunker; it was a World War II location lost to time, as far as Scud had gleaned, but the insides gleamed with the best futuristic security systems and equipment. Damaskino never skimped on any hallway he might deign to someday float through.

"Mind lettin up on the arm a bit?" Scud asked as Devon took him down the hall. After a slight squeeze, as if to make the point that Scud wasn't in control, Devon complied. Scud took his arm back with a wince, stepping several feet away even as he kept pace. "So no ideas what this is."

"I don't like talking with food."

Scud glowered, holding the rag to his hand and wishing he could shoot any number of high-powered vampire vaporizers at Devon's head.

"Well, shit-bird, I see you're enjoying your thirty pieces of silver," Whistler said venomously to the screen, sitting back with his feet on the table.

"Nice to see you too, Pappy, I was starting to think you'd croaked from old age," Scud said, eyes flickering to Reinhardt. It was obvious Scud didn't have the faintest clue why he was there, though his initial expression of shock, shame, and fear at the sight of them had brought Whistler more joy than...well, it fell short of what he imagined smashing Scud's prettyboy face in would feel like, but still pretty great.

Whistler wasn't surprised to see the kid had the same collection of crappy Hawaiian shirts, this time wearing a red and white one that looked like someone had dropped a can of paint on top. His messy and decidely unwashed hair was held back by a bandana, and the grimy sheen of sweat on his skin told of working with heavy machinery. If Whistler didn't know any better, he'd say the kid looked exhausted, though he masked it with that usual smug smirk.

"So you gonna tell me what this is about, or am I just here to squirm for your entertainment," Scud asked, a tone of anger seeping into the mockery, shifting on his feet.

Whistler put his feet on the ground and leaned in. "Answer me this, shitstain, why didn't you just delete my copy."

"Copy of what?"

"Of my life's research, you little - " Whistler started to stand with a rant on his lips, only to freeze as Blade's hand touched his shoulder. Clamping down on the anger, he gritted his teeth and carefully sat back down.

"What a minute," Reinhardt said, giving Scud a look that vibrated with menace even under sunglasses. Scud shifted incrementally away. "You said you deleted all of it."

Whistler's heart leapt in joy to see the blood drain from Scud's face. "Nah, man, it's just, I'd put that password on there way back and I got busy with other stuff that day, I forgot-"

"You FORGOT-"

"I fucking forget things sometimes, alright!" Scud shouted back, his voice close to cracking. "Look, if you want me as your engineer you gotta deal with that, otherwise you better wake Damaskino up and tell him you want me dead, 'cause you're wasting your fucking breath, man!"

Scud stopped his babbling, panting and staring at Reinhardt with a puffed up glare. Reinhardt looked back at the camera, shaking his head. "Real piece of work you scraped off the streets, here, Blade."

"Hey, fuck you," Scud said, still noticeably a safe pace from Reinhardt. Reinhardt just grinned, leaning back with his ankle on his knee.

"Alright, shit-bird, so what's the password," Whistler demanded.

"Wo ho ho, not so fast," Reinhardt said. "I ain't giving you jack-squat until I know what I'm buyin'."

Whistler held in his impatience, trying to think of how to best dumb down the description. "Let's see. We've found an agent that fixes to the high levels copper in their blood, making them coagulate. Better, it can be passed through vampire blood. It also passes freely through the human bloodstream, doesn't harm either."

"So they'd need to eat a vampire for it to work."

"A vampire who'd die anyway."

"Hmmm." Reinhardt tapped his chin, then looked at Scud. "We couldn't come up with this?"

Scud shrugged. "I look like a freaking biochemist?"

"No. No, you don't." Rehinhardt turned back to the screen. "So it might work."

Blade leaned closer. "Depends."

"On what."

Blade bared his teeth again. "Your 'dedication' to the project."

"Damaskinos wants it done, it'll get done."

"Damaskinos. And we're supposed to believe that the man terrified of his own son, who ran and hid from the problem he created, is still in charge."

"Damaskinos is always in charge. Clearly you don't understand how things work around here."

"Except that you get to play head honcho for as long as you drag this Reaper problem out," Whistler said.

"Hey, I want these freaks DEAD," Reinhardt retorted, putting his meaty dead paws on the desk. "This isn't a chance for me to power grab, it's a holocaust! Besides," Reinhardt continued more calmly, "being rewarded for doing my job will be more than enough to keep me...sated." Fangs flashed again, while Scud's fingernail was between his teeth, chewing as he watched the interaction. "So you have my honest interest.""

"Fine," Whistler grunted. "Get us the password, we'll give you the formula. We'll even help you test it."

"Sounds like a nice excuse for a truce. I'll take it." Reinhardt motioned for Scud. "Tell 'em."

"Um..."

At Scud's awkward, nervous interjection, Renhardt slowly turned his head to look at Scud. "Now. What."

"I, uh. I can't."

Reinhardt didn't even say anything this time, just staring, and Scud withered under the scrutiny, the casual expression not much of a disguise.

"Look, it ain't that simple, alright? The password is long gone, I kinda..."

"You forgot," Whistler said, scarcely believing their luck.

"I wrote a backdoor protocol in, you know, in case." He actually looked sheepish. "I need to either access the computer remotely or do it in person, old man here is too stupid to do it himself."

"Try me, punk!"

"Oh come on, I made up a language, it's a C++ Python hybrid with two layers of Israeli encryption, you telling me you can do that?"

"Tell me where the files are," Whistler demanded, and Scud sighed, glaring at Reinhardt, eyes smoldering. Reinhardt made a sarcastic motion for Scud to continue.

"Just...fine." Scud crossed his arms again. "Look in the startup program. Under Leonardo."

Scud fidgeted morosely while Whistler tapped at the keyboard, Blade waiting patiently behind his shoulder as always. "Referencing fine art, are we? Seems a little high class for you," Whistler said dryly.

"Yeah..." Scud looked confused. "Dude, you think the turtles are fine art? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Whistler decided a comment that monumentally stupid didn't warrant a response, and went back to typing.

Finally, after a good thirty seconds, he sat back in frustration. "Damn, he's right."

"So what. What's happening," Reinhardt demanded, and Whistler could see the taunting jibe on Scud's lips, somewhat disappointed from he restrained.

Instead, Scud muttered "Look, the reason I didn't delete the damn server in the first place was 'cause I forgot the password. So I can't get it for 'em. I DID write a backway in, but I have to see the code, I have to work with it. I need access to his hard-drive."

"Which he's not gonna get, only way this shitstain is touchin' my data is through on an offline computer," Whistler said adamantly.

"You need some new insults, Pappy," Scud said with a sneer, Reinhardt looking between the two.

"Hey, I see what this is," Reinhardt said, starting to sit up. "You think I'm stupid, Blade? You've all been in contact, this is a ruse to get Josh out of headquarters!" Reinhardt gave Scud a scathing look of rage, Scud quailing. "Once a rat, always a rat, huh?"

"No, no I fucking swear, I don't know shit about this!" Scud exclaimed, taking a step back.

"We'll prove it's real," Blade said impassively, Scud's posture slumping in relief as Reinhardt turned his attention back to the screen. "Get us a reaper to test it on. I don't care what the precautions are, so long as we both stay safe. For the time being, of course."

Reinhardt looked interested. "Well." He leaned in towards the camera, tilting his head in approval. "Alright. You convince me, I might just go along with this."

"We'll set a location," Whistler interjected. "You drop a reaper off in a mobile form, one we can drive to a place of our choosing. We'll test it, send you a video. You loan us the rat."

"He knows too much."

"Then the deal's off."

Reinhardt reclined as he thought. "Fine. I can have a Reaper within the week."

"We'll call you then."

"Hey, wait -" Scud started to say, but Reinhardt had already leaned forward to click off the screen. It blinked back into a computer desktop.

"Well. That went better than expected," Blade said, finally sitting down at the desk by Whistler, stretching his legs out.

"Maybe." Whistler drummed his fingers on the table and wondered what they'd gotten themselves into.

"We get the IP?" Reinhardt demanded. The vampire sitting just off camera, a meek-seeming creature with a patchy beard and pale eyes, shook his head morosely.  Reinhardt grimaced. "Didn't think so. Doesn't matter, still worked out for the best."

"For you, maybe," Scud said anxiously, his heart pounding. "Look man, how'm I supposed to help kill Reapers if Blade rips my damn arms off, huh? Hell, they could straight up kill me!"

"Oh, the horror," the meek vampire deadpanned in a thick Czech accent, still typing.

Reinhard got to his feet, moving slowly as if actually a 50-year-old human, and put his hands on his lower back, cracking his spine. Then cool as ice, he motioned for Scud to come closer, Scud instantly regretting his rant. Glancing around and seeing none of the other vampires watching, he hesitantly obeyed.

It happened as a blur, and only when Scud had flown who-knows-how-many-feet, hit his shoulder, rolled, and come to a painful skidding stop on the cement did he realize Reinhardt had backhanded the shit out of him. Too shocked and dazed to even speak, Scud brought a hand to his aching face.

"Don't lie to us again," Reinhardt said, and Scud raised his gaze to see the vampire towering over him. "Your stupidity was useful this time, but for your own sake I wouldn't make a habit of it."

Scud decided back-talk was unsmart, running his tongue where his teeth had split his cheek and working on standing as cooly as possible. The meek vampire was watching, he noticed, eyes lit with a sadistic, almost feline amusement. Trying to regain some dignity, Scud pushed hair from his eyes, adjusted his shirt, and starting walking for the door, passing the large wall of surveillance screens, computers, and communication doo-dads. Reinhardt hadn't given him permission to leave, but he wasn't eager to make his bitch status more obvious by asking.

"Scud." Scud stopped, turning to see Reinhardt leaning over his Czech counterpart's console. "Be at the research lab tonight, 10 PM."

Scud held in a sigh - he'd planned on actually catching up on sleep tonight. "Sure," he muttered, even though Reinhardt and the Czech were already talking in vampire.

"Best cover your hand there, boy," a deep voice said, and Scud saw Devon smirking at him, silver ear studs twinkling in the blue light of the CCTVs. He'd assumed the vampire had left after dropping him off; seemed he was in on Reinhardt's core team, then.

As the vampire's words sunk in, Scud saw the rag had fallen off his palm, blood dribbling down the curve of his thumb. Giving Devon a wary look, not liking either the attention or the implication, he walked back a few paces to snatch the towel off the ground. As he walked for the door he wrapped it back on the cut. "Not for eating."

In response, Devon bared a glowing white smile, fangs protruding. Scud gave him a mocking look of 'really?', rolled his eyes heavenward and made his escape, hoping the gestures had done something to hide his nervousness.

As he walked down gray and white concrete hallways, Scud tried to will his heartrate down, even if just so passing vampires wouldn't hear it. It'd been a long time since someone had clocked him like that; Whistler, actually, abusive asshole that he was. Being a favored familiar of the Overlord had so far worked in his favor, though now he wasn't sure what lenience Reinhardt had been granted in Damaskinos' recent absence.

He'd only made it two hallways when a wave of nausea overcame him, the upcoming danger starting to sink in. He paused to lean against the wall, trying to let the feeling pass and wishing his face would stop throbbing. Loan us the rat, my ass. It had made his blood boil to hear Whistler talk about him like property, though now he supposed that was all they saw him as.

Just more proof that without protection, he was fucked. He needed to spend the next week finding something to dissuade Blade from ripping into him. He took a deep breath, bolstering himself, and started walking again. This was the life he'd chosen, and outsmarting vampires was going to be a regular part of it. No point panicking every time it happened.

Was that a scream?

Not sure if he'd imagined it, Scud paused by a plain steel door. A handwritten sign, "No Familiars" had been scrawled in several languages and taped to it. When Scud had asked Ulsia she'd told him humans were kept out for "morale purposes," and hadn't elaborated. He waited for another sound, but after a minute of silence started walking again. Better not to think about it.

It was only a few more turns to the human clinic. He had bandages at his makeshift bedroom in the lab, but ice for his face was another matter. He passed several vampires, none of whom spared him attention. He was grateful he didn't see other familiars.

The first week in this place the humans had been almost Stepford-wife nice, friendly and eager to share trivial information, until Scud had realized how creepy the vibe was. Scud had always been the paranoid social type, good at picking up on phonies, too stubborn to let them get away with it. When he'd stopped smiling back, the cold disgust in almost all their eyes was easy to pick out.

It had taken a week of near silence for him to finally ask what was up, why the barely concealed hate. No-one had talked (with Ulsia's "They're stupid humans, get over it," doing nothing to help) and Scud had been left with a bazillion theories of his own. Jealousy? Moral superiority? Old boys club? Truth was, he had no idea, and even though he kept his head high, the dark looks made him feel about as insecure as a fat kid in middle school.

The clinic was up ahead, and he could hear chatter, humans talking through the doors. He realized he'd slowed without meaning to, butterflies in his stomach. He really wasn't in the state to deal with people, he decided, a sore cheekbone wasn't worth it. On impulse he ducked into a hallway and started taking the long way to his workshop. Fuck people. Right now he needed a joint and some cartoons, and if Ulsia had a problem with that she could suck his dick.

Not that he'd say that to her face, of course.

"Took the long way, I see." Scud was less than pleased to encounter Devon on the way back, not liking how the vampire just happened to be leaning in the corner of an isolated hallway, almost like he was waiting. "You're not heading back to Ulsia."

Scud stopped, this time keeping his bloodied hand in his pocket, watching Devon examine his fingernails. "Yeah. What of it?"

"Well. I find rather interesting you'd rather lick your wounds than return to work."

Scud gave him a sneer, using that as a relatively safe outlet of aggression. "Whatever." He kept walking, not looking back when he heard footsteps fall into line behind him.

When he reached a cross-roads, where a hallway to Ulsia's lab split off from the route to his own workshop, Scud stubbornly headed for his original destination. He only made it a pace past the hall before there was an iron grip on his left wrist, wrenching it from his pocket and twisting. Scud froze, turning to glare daggers at Devon's smug look.

"Let go."

"Wrong way, human."

"Unless you have an order for me, what I do isn't your business." Scud tried to wrench his wrist away, but Devon just twisted further and started dragging him down the new hallway. His entire arm hurt like hell, the vampire obviously wrenching the joints on purpose, and Scud gripped his wrist in an effort to pry cold fingers off. "This isn't fucking necessary, man - "

"That tattoo protects you from abuse," Devon said with a tone that sent alarm bells screaming in Scud's head, "not discipline."

"So what the fuck are you disciplining me for?"

But Devon came to a sudden stop, not letting go and pushing Scud towards a door in the hall, where a large indent kept it shadowed. Scud tried not to freak out as it squeezed his hand so hard he couldn't flex his fingers, pulling off the rag and letting it drop to the ground as he shoved Scud into the corner. Then he brought Scud's hand to his mouth, giving him a creepy unblinking stare belonging only in camp horror movies. His tongue, as he slowly licked blood around the cut, was cold, and slimy, and disgusting. Scud shuddered, letting Devon do it again, Devon pushing closer with his ten-times stronger body.

"Never realized my blood was that good," Scud said, refusing to balk. "I'm kinda flattered." Devon looked at him, surprised by the blithe sarcasasm. "Come on, man, you know Reinhardt's watching," Scud said, trying to keep a waver from his voice.

"Not here." Devon smiled. "Camera dark spot."

"You fucking planned this?" Scud snarled, panic spiking.

Devon squeezed his hand again, other hand gripping his upper arm. "You mention anything to Reinhardt, you'll regret it."

"He'll smell you on me, you dick, unless you back the fuck off."

After that the asshole let Scud go, licking blood from his lips as Scud collected his nerves and covered his hand.

The door opened with a swoosh and Devon pulled Scud's arm so he was sent stumbling inside, barely catching his balance and gripping his own pained wrist.

He stood for a time just gasping, and he heard a thunk as Ulsia dropped machinery on a table. Her pixie-like form stalked his way, stopping in front of him with a furrowed brow.

Scud couldn't bring himself to speak just yet as he stared at her, glad to see a friendly face, of sorts. She shook her head in anger, glancing up at Devon before the door shut, and then startled Scud by grabbing his hand with viper-like speed and precision, pulling the sleeve up. Bruises hadn't shown up yet, of course, but the red marks were clear enough. Wincing, Scud tried to pull free in vain as she examined him.

"Who did this to you?"

"Uh..."

"Devon?"

He nodded dumbly, too out of it to weight the consequences, if any, of being truthful.

The scowl returned, her fangs glistening in the orange light. "That durak." Dropping his wrist, she stepped around Scud and headed for the door.

Scud heard it open. Close.

Then finally it was just him.

His hands were still shaking as he tried to light a joint, sitting on a crate in the coolest corner of the work room. He was on his second flick, failing to get the light even when he glimpsed Ulsia approaching, padding along silent as ever. Unlike the others, she preferred slippers over boots, with the result that Scud was always jumping out of his skin at her sudden appearances.

"I talked with Devon," she said, crouching down in front of him. "He won't touch you again."

Scud sighed in exasperation, even though the news was a relief. "Nice of you, but it's not a problem. He's all bark, no bite."

"True, but sometimes vampires get carried away, especially with cabin fever," she said, her voice tinged with a delicate Russian accent. "As much as we profess to obey the laws of our kind, it's in our nature not to. Here." Her hand moving so fast it seemed a whir, she took the lighter, flicked it on and lit the joint in one motion.

He gave her an impressed look of thanks, taking a drag, and letting his eyes rest on her face. Her olive face was older than many of the others, but her large, doe-like eyes had an exotic, predatory nature even under the grime. Vampires were nothing if not good at picking beautiful progeny.

She placed his lighter on his leg with a smile and stood, stepping back to lean against a work table, her slim hip jutting out such that Scud had to conciously keep his eyes from wandering. "So what'd the boss want?" she asked bluntly.

"Not sure how much of that I can say without getting eviscerated."

To her credit Ulsia didn't push the matter, making the dismissive gesture he often saw when she was irritated with a peer. "Reinhardt wants to be cloak and dagger with his own people, that's his loss. Oh," she said, her tone changing, "Devon said he caught you skipping work, you have a reason?"

"Ah. I was gonna talk to you about that." Ulsia cocked an eyebrow expectantly. "It's this thing called sleep, see. Maybe you remember what it was? Anyways, humans periodically need it or we do stupid things like operate heavy machinery and lose body parts."

Instead of looking pissy or angry like the others would, Ulsia seemed to be hiding a smirk of amusement. "Alright fine. But when you're rested I want you working again. I can't get to the deadline without you."

"About that, I think Reinhardt's shippin' me off for awhile," Scud blurted, and a frown graced her dark red lips.

"Oh? Where, when?"

"I dunno. End of the week. He didn't say for how long." Scud took another drag on the joint, watching the anger on her face, taking some pleasure in having at least one person give a shit.

"Are you working on the same project?" she demanded, her lilting tones furious. "How can Reinhardt expect us to get anything done like this?"

"Look," Scud said, lowering his voice and glancing around for eavesdroppers, even though the lab was both bug-free and rarely frequented. "Don't spread it around, but I think he found a different way. Chemical, insteada hardware."

Her huge eyes narrowed in interest. "Really."

At 10pm Scud wandered into Research with his hands in his pockets, still groggy from a two-hour nap and a shower, wearing his red leather jacket  against the cold. Reinhardt, Gannette, and a large, male, dark-skinned vampire he didn't recognize were huddled over paperwork on a surgery table.

"Ah, yes." Reinhardt looked up at his entrance. "Everyone's here then, let's get started."

"Joshua, remove your shirt please," Ganette said idly, clicking through some fancy electronic notepad.

"Uh, what?" Scud looked around the room, thinking there had to be another meaning.

"You still speak english, yes?" Ganette demanded, and Scud's eyes narrowed. His tender cheek was a good enough reminder not to make a scene, so he started to undo the buttons on his shirt. He noticed halfway through that Gannette was analyzing him, and eyed her uneasily.

She was one of the few vampires he'd seen who couldn't pass for a Calvin Klein underwear model; before turning she'd clearly had multiple children and had never lost the flab, with floppy boobs she refused to wear a bra for and folds of skin swinging distractedly on her upper arms, even under sleeves. Scud figured she'd been turned for her sparkling personality, but whatever it was, it hadn't translated to her monster form. She was a cold, difficult, myopic bitch, and he'd decided he didn't like her the first day in.

Shirt unbuttoned, Scud pulled it off with his jacket and dropped it on a nearby chair, grateful he'd worn a tanktop. He wasn't ashamed of his scars or his body, but that didn't make stripping in front of a bunch of psychopaths any more desirable.

"That too," Gannette said, motioning at his tanktop.

As he grabbed the hem of his tanktop, bracing for the cold, he noticed Reinhardt was staring along with Ganette, leaning casually against a table.

"I only got two holes, so, who's first?" Scud quipped as he pulled it over his head, trying to shirk the scrutiny.

He caught the black vampire rolling his eyes, fidgeting with something on the table. Scud tossed the tanktop aside and walked over, trying to get a better look. It was a plastic-looking device, about the size of a bottle-cap and hooked by USB cable to a laptop.

"What's that," Scud asked, motioning with his head as he crossed arms across his chest.

"We'll get to that in a minute," Ganette said in her American accent. "Sit please," she said, patting a surgical table. It was a gleaming steel affair with tubes and knobs and all sorts of nerve-wracking cords coming off it. To one side an IV was dripping. Realization hit Scud like a bullet.

"Woah, hold up here, is that going in me?" Scud demanded, pointing at the device.

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner," Reinhardt said dryly.

"No way," Scud said in low voice, stepping back. "I didn't sign up for this, Damaskinos never said shit about surgery-"

"Shut it!" Reinhardt snapped, and Scud found himself freezing, a thrill of terror shutting off his motor-mouth. Now that he had Scud's attention, Reinhardt leaned back on a stool. "Look kiddo, Damaskinos isn't here and I have the world to save, so on the table."

Glaring at whoever met his gaze, Scud reluctantly climbed up, hunching over and letting his legs dangle off the side, bare arms covered in goosebumps. Ganette went around behind him somewhere, and he tried not to jolt when her cold fingers started poking his shoulder blade.

"So what," Scud asked bitterly, "is this some Battle Royale stunt, that a bomb?"

"Relax, just a tracking device," Reinhardt said, before frowning at a look Ganette apparently gave him. "What? He'll complain the whole time unless we tell him, he's stupid that way."

A tracking device. Well, shit.

Scud's mind raced with the info. No doubt it was for the whole catch and release program they had going with Blade.

"Alright, on your stomach please," Ganette murmured distractedly, and he glanced over his shoulder to see her still examining him like fresh real estate. Scud pulled his legs onto the table, starting to maneuver such that his head rested on the folded towel in place of a pillow. He refused to lay entirely flat, though; it felt too vulnerable, so he kept himself slightly sideways to see what was going on.

For a time he lay there, confusing activity around him.

"So how many people you done this too?" Scud asked, when he felt a wet cloth pushing along his upper spine.

"Don't worry, it's extremely low risk," Ganette said in some sick mockery of motherliness. "Afterwards you'll just feel some weakness in your left arm, nothing serious."

"Wait, for how long?" Reinhardt asked. "Ulsia'll be pissed if he can't work."

Ganette sighed loudly. "Like I said earlier, all the options require muscle removal. But the shoulder is optimal, high survival, close to the spine.

"Well, geez, can't we just stick it in his ass cheek or something?" Reinhardt asked in frustration. "What's a little muscle loss gonna do there, huh?"

"You'd have a very bloody, very missing ass cheek once the Daywalker found it," Ganette said promptly.

"Ah Jesus, quick talking like that!" Scud beseeched them.

"Don't worry kid, this'll keep you safe," Reinhard said, actually patting him on the shoulder, hand as cold as the table. "Daywalker probably won't even find it, low frequency or some shit. Alright, shoulder then."

Scud was filled with horror as he heard Ganette snap on rubber gloves. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit," he found himself whispering.

"Can we silence him now?" Ganette asked in exasperation.

"Yeah, go ahead," Reinhard said, and Scud felt a sharp pain in his neck, a tingling sensation. Words blurred, his eyelids slipped shut heavy as lead, and his world went black.

Ulsia strode to her work-room with a smile, fresh from her first evening on the town in over a month. Like all her vampire peers she was allowed three free days per season, and she'd chosen today as day one, just to punish Reinhardt. Fuck that polzat's shifty deadlines.

As she passed Scud's work-room she slowed, looking down the wide, scuffed hallway. Scud made a small domain for himself in the 80x100 space, living there and working on pet projects assigned by Damaskinos' head scientist. Wondering if Scud was back, if Reinhardt had done something to him, she started towards the man-sized door. She didn't relish having to replace Scud with Scott tomorrow; Scott annoyed her.

She turned the knob, the industrial-sized doors next to her closed and sealed. Hinges creaked as she peeked inside. In just a few weeks Scud had managed to make the place look like the insides of a disemboweled robot covered in Christmas lights. The lights were on, and wires and machinery, much of it salvaged or stolen from nearby businesses at Scud's request, hung haphazardly from the ceiling.

"Scud?" she called, perplexed by the unusual silence as she stepped inside. Usually he at least kept the television going, even while sleeping.

The door to Scud's tiny one-room apartment opened. "Ulsie?"

"Yeah, it's me." Unable to hide a smile at the nickname, she closed the door and headed over. Scud was rubbing his eyes, unshaven and still fully dressed. "Daylight was over two hours ago, have you slept?"