The Degenerate (TO BE REWRITTEN...SOON)

CHAPTER 9: The Perfect Child

A/N: I'm ashamed of how long it tok me to write this chapter. Feel free to throw rotten tomatoes at me- I kind of deserve it. But anyways, this not does have a purpose. I want to tell you guys that this is sort of the exciting chapter I may have mentioned earlier. And just remember- this story DOES have an outlin. Every time I sit down and write I take another look and think 'did I just pull this out of my ass or something?' but then I remember the outline. One last thing- in anotherin another chapter I asked if anyone wanted me to list some actors for characters (in that little right-hand box thing). Because I realy do have a legitimate list in my notebook. If you would like that list, then plese say so in the comment section down beloooooooooow. If not, and maybe you think that a cast of actors would somehow damper this story's awesomeness (I swear I'm being sarcastic), then please say so too.

Please feel free to comment regarding the story itself- i need to know how I'm doing! Is it good? Bad? Stupid? If so, how might I improve? I NEED to know. Also, votes and fanning are appreciated as well.

And without further adieu, I give you...

CHAPTER 9: THE PERFECT CHILD

A small, black ant-like figure scurried across the desert. This figure, a five foot two man with a submissive, slight slope to his back that reminded one of an Igor, quaked with fearful joy. He was going to be the one to deliver good news (something that was rare amongst his workplace) to his master; Felt. Felt had always been an aggressive, irrational man- the sort of man that did what he wanted and got what he wanted without negative consequence (to himself). Everything the man desired ended up one way or another either in the palm of his hand or under the sole of his steel-toed boot. Of course, the only exception being the degenerates.

Those children were simply lab rats that had broken free of their cages. Well, maybe a bit more valuable than your average rodent found at a pet store- but still, they were one hundred percent Blade Property.

Felt’s view of the degenerates was a bit more…political. To him, the degenerates were a billion dollars with legs (and a few genetic mutations). It was a view that fueled the entire Blade Corporation. Well, that and the fact that these walking billion dollars were dangerous and had the potential to disrupt the fragile balance of society. The short, hunched man hated his job- but at this point in his life, there was no way out of it. Since the first signature on thick government documents, the man’s career was sealed.

As he approached his boss, silhouetted by the fire-streaked horizon, the words he was commanded to say caught in his throat. Though he knew this was the kind of news Felt would promote him for, he was still reluctant to converse with this man because of past incidents.

“Sir?” The man’s voice cracked like an ancient Greek marble column.

Felt did not speak for a moment or too, continuing to stare into the sunset. “Yes?” the single word came out as cool and smooth as spearmint- a contrast to the desert surrounding them that seemed to wash over the man’s skin even though Felt stood three feet away from him with his back turned.

The man gulped, the spit in his mouth that usually allowed flowing speech evaporated with the dying sun. “We, uh, have the girl’s protector. He’s here, sir.”

His words were left hanging in the air like a piece of rotting meat.

“Bring him here.” Felt’s reaction was so out of character that the man froze for a moment, staring at Felt. He broke free of this almost instantly though, and practically ran back to the campsite. He walked up to the medical tent where one of the man’s lower ranking partners guarded the very angry-looking, bandaged degenerate handcuffed to a hospital bed.

“Hey Wade,” the short man said the guard, “bring out this kid to Felt. His request.” The dark, hulk of a man nodded like a bouncer and un-cuffed the degenerate and followed the short man to Felt. The short man was glad that the degenerate could walk again. It was pain to carry him; he was as skinny as a flag pole but punched like a sailor.