The Degenerate (TO BE REWRITTEN...SOON)

CHAPTER 27: Ghost Babe

A/N: Let it be known I did not illustrate the process of making a bomb for a few reasons:

NSA

People getting ideas

Creates unnecessary bulk

Anthony's white shirt was stained brown and scarlet with blood, old and new. A bullet pierced his bicep as he shot at the back of the van, knowing there was no way he'd win this round. What made him think he could in the first place? He stopped. rationalized. This was something Pete would do. If he got caught, what would be the good in his attempted rescue? If Isabelle had been alive instead of limp and breathless in the back seat, she would have smacked his head for being so thoughtless. He made a u-turn then, speeding back towards the dusty diamond of a city. Twilight approached, the sky a pale peach.

Anthony cursed himself for shooting at them like an idiot. Irrational. He pushed his fury back, saving it for a rainy day- because there would definitely be another day for blades. Now Anthony had to think of a way to break Pete out. A plan...

He thought back through the years. How did he and the rest of the degenerates break out the first time? There had been fire, and..how did it get there? Anthony never thought of how it had happened before, just how grateful he was to get out. He figured it was another degenerate, started the fire somehow. But wasn't that a bit ridiculous? It couldn't be easy to start a fire when you were already so scrutinized. Someone from the inside? It had to be someone trusted, Anthony decided. It can't be easy to crack open a facility with that much security, that much firepower.

Crack the egg from the inside. That was it! He'd have to get in there, somehow. A disguise? Maybe. There would probably be some scans, identification had to be provided. Okay. So kidnap/kill a blade, steal his clothes, and...what then? Ugh, how would he even get a blade in the first place, or find the facility for that matter??

Anthony sighed impatiently, pressing the accelerator hard as he approached Vegas, neon red, green, and orange signs promised sin and debauchery. Anthony pulled a cigarette from beat-up pack and lit it. Took a drag. Inhale...exhale. The smoke swirled through the open window.

He glanced towards the back where Isabelle lay. Poor girl. She'd been so gifted. She was the core of their degenerate clan before, always sensing when the blades got close or when a degenerate was about to change. She would have been really useful to bust out Pete.

Anthony shook his head. He wasn't going to think about the others. He wouldn't allow Phoebe's face to haunt his, contorted with betrayal and sadness. His emotions were futile.

Anthony hit the brakes, causing Isabelle's body to thwump against the back of the front seats. It wouldn't be long until she started to stink in this heat. She needed a proper burial.

Cherry bomb swung out from the road and onto the bumpy sand and rock, the engine groaning with effort. Anthony found a good place, hidden with thick brush, and drug Isabelle's body to the ground. Still dead. Shit, he'd have to scrub the backseat. Blood was noticeable even on the red vinyl.

Cigarette lodged in the corner of his mouth, Anthony opened the twin doors of the back and looked for a shovel. The ground wouldn't be easy to break. Flashlight, a few knives (including a kitchen knife), a shoe, scattered cigarette butts, a blanket, and, finally a shovel. Anthony sighed in relief.

He was covered in sweat, exhausted and craving food by the time he finished. He considered Isabelle lucky to get a burial like this. So many degenerates got captured or shot, bodies never to be recovered. Anthony gingerly lifted Isabelle, her body chilled and stiff. He wished he could've said a few nice words, like "you were pretty useful and helped us out a lot." Something besides "you were a mega-bitch the whole time I knew you, and I hated you a little bit" but he didn't want to lie. He could almost sense her scowling from the hole.