Scraps

None of his business.

The lock was child’s play, at least it was for him. With a small whistle, he sent Beetle, the world’s best Eyebot to keep watch.

With little to no sound, he slipped inside.

His eyes narrow as he looked over the stranger. Then, a grin slid onto his face. “Well, no time better than the present to poke the bear, yeah?

What kinda stuff in the lab do you want to know?”

It’s a lab. How hard could it be to break in?

“The fuck does that mean?” He asked, tilting his head as they mentioned turning into a goat.

She want to smack around one of his bots? Beetle doesn’t mind.

“Lab? I didn’t know about that buuut…. I’d be happy to sneak in, do a little digging. Even can send somma my tin friends in to check it out.”

Sometimes I can still hear his voice…

And it’s telling me that he wants all his caps given to me.

They probably already think he’s dead.

Rest in peace, mysterious guy that kills things.

Fuck yea.

There’sa buncha rad scorpions near the scrapyard, if he’s lookin’ for something to do.

He took it, grinning widely as he place it between his teeth, lighting it with a showy flick of the lighter.

“Sounds like you got the goss’ you wanna spill. I can tell you what I’ve heard, if you’re interested.”

“Buddy, listen, I couldn’t give two shits. I’m here for free food and to maybe bum a cig.”

He grinned back, eyes glancing down at the stranger’s teeth. “And where would that be, Ellie?”

Ah, they were sharper than they looked. “Yeah, been watching ‘em for a while. Ain’t nothin’ too exciting though.”

He offered a scarred and oil stained hand to the stranger. “They call me Scraps.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right! Uh, I knew that.” He looked over the stranger. “You lived ‘ere long?”

Funny. He’s wandering around, pretending like he belongs. “Uh, so, yeah. I missed tha’ memo. What’re we celebratin’ again?”

His accent would quickly identify him as an outsider, but this guy didn’t look like a narc.

There’s a party going on?

The Scrapyard is quiet and as night falls, Scraps watches his breath appearing. The winter was going to be bad… but at least it wouldn’t rain as much.

Drawing a mud middle finger.

This is why you get robots. They zap the bastards ‘fore they get set up in your house.

Y’ need to learn to either deal with the problem or learn to share.

It’s not their fault that you’re temptin’ ‘em.

Then share your food???

Don’t leave y’ food out then, ya fuckin’ suitcase.