Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Band on the Run
Motorbaby blinked up at the skies, now the same deep black they were when she was taken away, “Then what happened? Did you win?”
Kobra nodded, pulling her back into his lap, “Yep, then we were official Runners.”
She pouted a bit, looking over at Jet, “You called them Walkers. What’s a Walker?”
Jet smirked, and choked down a laugh, “A Walker is a prostitute.”
She blanched and giggled, craning her head back to look at Kobra, who just huffed and frowned.
Motorbaby squirmed around in his lap a little longer, before sighing, “I’m sleepy.”
Both men nodded and looked back towards the motel, “Unfortunately, Party’s kinda taking up your bed right now,” Jet explained, blushing softly, “But… you could sleep in his room.”
She shook her head, “I wanna see him.”
He hummed softly in the back of his throat, beginning to toy with his bandana again, “I don’t think Blitz would want you in there.”
She crossed her arms, eyebrows knitting together, “Then tell me another story.”
Jet rolled his eyes, and began to kick at the little rocks around his feet, “Fine, what do you wanna hear?”
She sat up a little straighter, “The fight!”
He blew out a sharp breath, pulling her from Kobra’s lap onto his own so the man could see his injured brother. She wriggled around a bit, but finally settled back against his shoulder, “Tell me about the fight,” she murmured, voice heavy with sleep.
Jet nodded, “Yes, the fight.”
****
Blitz was outside first, firing off rounds into the side of a white, unmarked van. The gun left huge, smoldering dents, but the van didn’t explode like she had expected. Ghoul and Pony were at her side at once, picking off dracs left and right as she continued to unload her clip onto the vehicles. Gerard, Party, felt lost in the chaos, and his grip on his gun was becoming weaker. There was a loud bang, and the front half of the van burst into blue and orange flames. Blitz ran back towards the building, her gun fumbling in her hands, “You gonna shoot somethin’ already?” she snarled in Party’s direction, unloading the spent energy cartridge and pushing in another.
He closed his eyes and let out a primal scream, firing blindly in the direction of the vans. He could only hear triumphant shouts and lasers whizzing past him. When he opened his eyes, he saw 2 dracs running for him, laser blasts buzzing around him from all sides. He sneered, and shot the first one directly between in the eyes. His second shot only caught the drac’s shoulder, but he slumped away behind the van. Gerard let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, lowering the gun to his side as a drac slumped over dead in front of him. Ghoul ran over, shielding his face with his arm, “Why aren’t you shooting?! Shoot!”
He growled, firing his gun again, cursing loudly as the clip went dead and the gun fizzled out. Ghoul tossed him another gun, this one painted a bright orange and teal, and ran off to the other side of the building, gun firing the entire time. Party bolted to the left, skidding behind Jet’s car and watching the scene through the side mirror. At this angle, he could fire shots without being seen. He spun around on his knees, closing one eye so he could line up a shot at a drac sitting in one of the vans. But as he finger began to pull back on the trigger, a sleek black sports car slid into place near him, a single blue light flashing on the dashboard. The BLI logo was stamped on the driver’s side door, the happy face glaring back at him in mockery. He scrambled up and away from the car, watching as two dracs stepped out, followed by a pale, bald man in a gray overcoat. He tugged on his sleeves, pulling out his own sleek, shiny gun, aiming it directly at Dr. Death Defying. Party huffed and aimed his gun at the man’s hand. He didn’t want to kill him; he didn’t have it in him to kill an actual human. He pulled the trigger, ducking back down behind Kobra’s bike as he watched the man’s gun fly out of his hand and spin down to the ground, broken. He glared in Party’s direction, motioning to dracs to go after him, pointing out his meager hiding place.
Dr. Death Defying, meanwhile, was busy trying to Blitz to just get cover, pushing the headstrong girl into the arcade. “Stay inside,” he warned, pushing his sunglasses back onto his face, “You’re too young to be fighting Korse.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the doctor shut and barricaded the door, keeping her safe inside. He then ran over to where Party was hiding, muttering a quick ‘thank you’ before unloading rounds into the half dozen dracs that were limping over, guns firing in all directions. Jet and Ghoul were busy dismantling the remaining two vans, putting dinner plate sized holes into the hood of the car. He could hear Blitz banging away at the plywood walls, spitting out curses and threats. He watched as the bald man, Korse, fished around for another gun, shouting out orders as the few remaining dracs hustled for the only van left standing. From the corner of his eye, he could see Pony and Kobra hidden behind one side of the building, where a wall jutted out about 3 feet and kept them safe from view. From there, the two of them took out the last three dracs, and began to fire on the white van they had been running towards. Korse growled and sank back into the sports car, spiraling out of the lot in a cloud of dust and smoke. When the car was merely a speck on the horizon, Party let out a shuddering breath, sinking down into the sand on his knees, “Who was that?”
Ghoul tucked his gun back into its holster, tugging his bandana down around his neck, “Korse. He and his dracs run around the zones tryin’ to pick us off. Apparently we make BLI look bad.”
Jet scoffed, “Yeah, right. As if the dracs didn’t make ‘em look bad enough.”
Party blinked, “But who is he?”
The doctor kicked at one of the dracs corpses, laughing, “He’s the good guy. We’re the bad guys.”
Kobra looked up from his gun, a look of terror etched into his face, “I’m guessing he’s the reason you’re out here.”
The doctor nodded, glancing over at Pony before beginning to explain, “Korse is like an exterminator, and we’re the rats. BLI kicked us out to the Zones in the first place, now they don’t want us to exist at all.”
Party nodded, flopping down onto his back and staring up at the empty blue sky, “Did you win
the lottery too?”
Jet shook his head, “We got out before the shit hit the fan. We all knew we couldn’t survive being who we were.”
“And what’s that?” Kobra asked.
“Well, I play guitar, so I definitely had to go,” Jet clarified, turning on his heel and walking towards the doctor, “He was a DJ who got a little too excited with the freedom of speech.”
“Blitzkrieg is my niece,” the doctor added, “Her parents were killed by S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W.”
“What about you, Ghoul?” Party urged, looking over at the tattooed man.
“’M Gay.” He mumbled, and turned to head back to the buildings.
Party blanched and looked over in a panic, “I-I didn’t mean it like that… I mean, I am too… shit…”
He trailed off into a twittering babble, his face turning a deeper and deeper crimson. Pony walked over, patting his shoulder with a manic grin, “It’s all good, sugar. He’s easily offended.”
Party shook him off, heaving himself to his feet and picking up his gun from the sand. He stared around the battered landscape, littered with dozens of dracs, black smoke rising in loopy tendrils from their wounds. The air was dense and foggy, thick with dust and clay, the kind of air that burned your eyes and prickled your skin. Party scratched at his arm, where a laser had brushed against the skin. It wasn’t bleeding, and it only stung when the feeble breeze wafted by. The doctor stared around, sighing deeply, “Better move these to the incinerator then.”
Ghoul gagged and grabbed the collar of a drac lying in a twisted heap nearby. It took quite some time, as there were only 6 of them, and at least 30 bodies. While they were grateful to have won with no casualties didn’t stop the fact they hated cleaning up afterwards. By the time they were piled up, the sun was high and hot in the sky, making the stinking bodies more unbearable than usual. Ghoul sneered at the mask closest to him, smiling a sadistic grin as he threw the match onto the heap.
“Good riddance,” he grumbled, and walked away into the arcade with his hands deep in his pockets.
The other men were close behind, closing the hidden door behind them with a loud clack. Blitz was standing eagerly by the radio’s microphone, bouncing on her heels as she waited to hear the results of the fight. Pony slumped down into a wingback chair next to her, pulling off his helmet with a grunt, “Wasn’t much of a fight. Korse ran off as soon as he realized he was outnumbered.”
“Pussy,” she spat, crunching up a BLI flyer in her fist.
The doctor smiled and pulled her close, rubbing her head with his fist as a sign of endearment, “At least no one was ghosted.”
Blitz nodded and swung around on her heel, facing Kobra and Party, staring them down with wide, blue eyes, “How was it?”
“How was what?” Kobra asked, slumping down onto a barstool.
“The fight!” Blitz exclaimed, throwing the flyer and her hands into the air.
Party shrugged, “It was okay, I guess. I still feel weird shooting all those people, though.”
Pony cracked a sly smile, “That’ll pass in a couple of days. But for now… have a beer!”
He reached back behind his chair, pulling out two dusty beer bottles, handing them over to the newest Runners to join the pack. Kobra cracked his open with a wide grin, popping open his brother’s and handing it over as well.
Their bottles clinked together, and Kobra rose to his feet, hoisting his bottle into the air, “To the Zones!” he shouted.
“To the Zones!” Ghoul screamed back, opening his own beer and downing half in one mouthful.
Blitz hoisted herself up on the chipped wooden table the radio equipment was laid out on. She began to flip switches and reached up over her head to pull down one of the records that was piled above her. With a bright expression, she pulled the vinyl carefully from its flimsy paper sleeve, setting it down with a surgeon’s precision on the record player. She looked up and gave a wide wink to Party, dropping the needle down on the disk and bobbing her head to the music that warbled out. It was an old song, one he remembered from his childhood. A song about peace and love and sunshine, with bright, blaring horns and a bouncy beat. Blitz was mouthing the words to herself, smiling and playing with the frayed ends of her denim shorts. For the first time in years, Party felt truly at ease.
The day passed with little activity, for the sun was making the earth hot and dry. Even if they had gas to put in the cars, the risk of the engine overheating and leaving them stranded was too great. So, they meandered around the hovel of a hideout, trying to keep in the shade where it was cooler and away from the windows and the glaring sun. Blitz and Jet kept a half-hearted watch on the 6 cameras they had placed around the property. Ghoul was outside somewhere, mumbling something as he walked off about a transmission he needed to fix. Kobra was sprawled across the floor of the arcade, relishing the coldness of the tiles pressed against his face. Party stood over him, head cocked to one side and eyebrows knitted together, “What in the fuck are you doing?”
Kobra shrugged, rolling from his stomach to his back to look up at his brother, “It’s hot. The floor is cold.”
Party just rolled his eyes and stepped over him, slipping out the hidden door to have a smoke. Cigarettes were a rare and precious commodity in the zones, and he still had 7 left in his pack from when he escaped Battery City. He flicked a match on the brick exterior of the building, dipping his head down so no one could see him lighting it. It wasn’t that he didn’t mind sharing, it would just be better if they didn’t know. He was blowing out his first puff of smoke when Ghoul stumbled out of the garage with a succession of loud clangs. He had been carrying a tool box in one hand and a filter system in the other, when a cord caught his foot and sent him face first into the sand. Party nearly choked on his cigarette at the sudden sound, spitting it out of his mouth as he bent double and coughed. Ghoul looked up, face flushed in embarrassment, “Dude, I didn’t mean to scare you. You cool?”
Party nodded through his coughing, “Just a little surprised.”
He walked over; air filter still tucked under his arm, and gave a long, pleading look to the cigarette lying in the dirt. Party tweaked his mouth into a frown, and picked it up with shaking fingers, wiping away the sand and spit that was on the filter. “You wanna drag?” he asked softly, holding the cigarette towards Ghoul.
He only nodded and took it from him, taking three slow drags before handing it back. He smiled a sad sort of smile, “Never thought I’d miss a cigarette as much as I have.”
Party shrugged, “Life on the run isn’t always what you expect.”
“S’pose not,” he added, ducking his head down.
Party shuffled a bit in the sand, taking another drag from his smoke, “What, uhh, you workin’ on?”
Ghoul pointed back towards the garage with his thumb, “Little red Subaru. It looks alright but everything under the hood is shit.”
“You need a hand?” Party asked, looking at the dropped tools strewn in the dusty lot.
Ghoul smiled, grabbing the cigarette from Party’s hand and turning around towards the garage, “You know how to fix a car right?”
He nodded, “Dad taught me about cars. I know a thing or two.”
Ghoul clapped his hands together, raising up the door of the garage, “Party Poison, meet Sexy Sadie.”
It was a squat little sports car with a patchy red paint job. The hood was up and the car gutted, the engine and all its parts piled around the car on stools and milk crates. Ghoul leaned inside and began to tinker with the transmission, having Party hand him different tools and hold different parts. After a while, the sun was beginning to dip west and the doctor came out into the garage with a grave look on his face, “S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. is in zone 4. They’ll be here by nightfall.”
Ghoul blanched and dropped the wrench he was holding, “Better start loading up now then.”
He wandered inside, Party close behind him. Ghoul leaned over Jet’s shoulder, looking at the black, armored vans rolling down the road. “You think we got a chance?”
He sighed and turned around, “We need a miracle.”
Blitz was over by the radio, holding a record tight in her hands. She pulled it from its sleeve and set it carefully onto the player. It was a song of power and money, and for a brief moment, Party wondered if it was the last song he’d ever hear.
Kobra nodded, pulling her back into his lap, “Yep, then we were official Runners.”
She pouted a bit, looking over at Jet, “You called them Walkers. What’s a Walker?”
Jet smirked, and choked down a laugh, “A Walker is a prostitute.”
She blanched and giggled, craning her head back to look at Kobra, who just huffed and frowned.
Motorbaby squirmed around in his lap a little longer, before sighing, “I’m sleepy.”
Both men nodded and looked back towards the motel, “Unfortunately, Party’s kinda taking up your bed right now,” Jet explained, blushing softly, “But… you could sleep in his room.”
She shook her head, “I wanna see him.”
He hummed softly in the back of his throat, beginning to toy with his bandana again, “I don’t think Blitz would want you in there.”
She crossed her arms, eyebrows knitting together, “Then tell me another story.”
Jet rolled his eyes, and began to kick at the little rocks around his feet, “Fine, what do you wanna hear?”
She sat up a little straighter, “The fight!”
He blew out a sharp breath, pulling her from Kobra’s lap onto his own so the man could see his injured brother. She wriggled around a bit, but finally settled back against his shoulder, “Tell me about the fight,” she murmured, voice heavy with sleep.
Jet nodded, “Yes, the fight.”
****
Blitz was outside first, firing off rounds into the side of a white, unmarked van. The gun left huge, smoldering dents, but the van didn’t explode like she had expected. Ghoul and Pony were at her side at once, picking off dracs left and right as she continued to unload her clip onto the vehicles. Gerard, Party, felt lost in the chaos, and his grip on his gun was becoming weaker. There was a loud bang, and the front half of the van burst into blue and orange flames. Blitz ran back towards the building, her gun fumbling in her hands, “You gonna shoot somethin’ already?” she snarled in Party’s direction, unloading the spent energy cartridge and pushing in another.
He closed his eyes and let out a primal scream, firing blindly in the direction of the vans. He could only hear triumphant shouts and lasers whizzing past him. When he opened his eyes, he saw 2 dracs running for him, laser blasts buzzing around him from all sides. He sneered, and shot the first one directly between in the eyes. His second shot only caught the drac’s shoulder, but he slumped away behind the van. Gerard let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, lowering the gun to his side as a drac slumped over dead in front of him. Ghoul ran over, shielding his face with his arm, “Why aren’t you shooting?! Shoot!”
He growled, firing his gun again, cursing loudly as the clip went dead and the gun fizzled out. Ghoul tossed him another gun, this one painted a bright orange and teal, and ran off to the other side of the building, gun firing the entire time. Party bolted to the left, skidding behind Jet’s car and watching the scene through the side mirror. At this angle, he could fire shots without being seen. He spun around on his knees, closing one eye so he could line up a shot at a drac sitting in one of the vans. But as he finger began to pull back on the trigger, a sleek black sports car slid into place near him, a single blue light flashing on the dashboard. The BLI logo was stamped on the driver’s side door, the happy face glaring back at him in mockery. He scrambled up and away from the car, watching as two dracs stepped out, followed by a pale, bald man in a gray overcoat. He tugged on his sleeves, pulling out his own sleek, shiny gun, aiming it directly at Dr. Death Defying. Party huffed and aimed his gun at the man’s hand. He didn’t want to kill him; he didn’t have it in him to kill an actual human. He pulled the trigger, ducking back down behind Kobra’s bike as he watched the man’s gun fly out of his hand and spin down to the ground, broken. He glared in Party’s direction, motioning to dracs to go after him, pointing out his meager hiding place.
Dr. Death Defying, meanwhile, was busy trying to Blitz to just get cover, pushing the headstrong girl into the arcade. “Stay inside,” he warned, pushing his sunglasses back onto his face, “You’re too young to be fighting Korse.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the doctor shut and barricaded the door, keeping her safe inside. He then ran over to where Party was hiding, muttering a quick ‘thank you’ before unloading rounds into the half dozen dracs that were limping over, guns firing in all directions. Jet and Ghoul were busy dismantling the remaining two vans, putting dinner plate sized holes into the hood of the car. He could hear Blitz banging away at the plywood walls, spitting out curses and threats. He watched as the bald man, Korse, fished around for another gun, shouting out orders as the few remaining dracs hustled for the only van left standing. From the corner of his eye, he could see Pony and Kobra hidden behind one side of the building, where a wall jutted out about 3 feet and kept them safe from view. From there, the two of them took out the last three dracs, and began to fire on the white van they had been running towards. Korse growled and sank back into the sports car, spiraling out of the lot in a cloud of dust and smoke. When the car was merely a speck on the horizon, Party let out a shuddering breath, sinking down into the sand on his knees, “Who was that?”
Ghoul tucked his gun back into its holster, tugging his bandana down around his neck, “Korse. He and his dracs run around the zones tryin’ to pick us off. Apparently we make BLI look bad.”
Jet scoffed, “Yeah, right. As if the dracs didn’t make ‘em look bad enough.”
Party blinked, “But who is he?”
The doctor kicked at one of the dracs corpses, laughing, “He’s the good guy. We’re the bad guys.”
Kobra looked up from his gun, a look of terror etched into his face, “I’m guessing he’s the reason you’re out here.”
The doctor nodded, glancing over at Pony before beginning to explain, “Korse is like an exterminator, and we’re the rats. BLI kicked us out to the Zones in the first place, now they don’t want us to exist at all.”
Party nodded, flopping down onto his back and staring up at the empty blue sky, “Did you win
the lottery too?”
Jet shook his head, “We got out before the shit hit the fan. We all knew we couldn’t survive being who we were.”
“And what’s that?” Kobra asked.
“Well, I play guitar, so I definitely had to go,” Jet clarified, turning on his heel and walking towards the doctor, “He was a DJ who got a little too excited with the freedom of speech.”
“Blitzkrieg is my niece,” the doctor added, “Her parents were killed by S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W.”
“What about you, Ghoul?” Party urged, looking over at the tattooed man.
“’M Gay.” He mumbled, and turned to head back to the buildings.
Party blanched and looked over in a panic, “I-I didn’t mean it like that… I mean, I am too… shit…”
He trailed off into a twittering babble, his face turning a deeper and deeper crimson. Pony walked over, patting his shoulder with a manic grin, “It’s all good, sugar. He’s easily offended.”
Party shook him off, heaving himself to his feet and picking up his gun from the sand. He stared around the battered landscape, littered with dozens of dracs, black smoke rising in loopy tendrils from their wounds. The air was dense and foggy, thick with dust and clay, the kind of air that burned your eyes and prickled your skin. Party scratched at his arm, where a laser had brushed against the skin. It wasn’t bleeding, and it only stung when the feeble breeze wafted by. The doctor stared around, sighing deeply, “Better move these to the incinerator then.”
Ghoul gagged and grabbed the collar of a drac lying in a twisted heap nearby. It took quite some time, as there were only 6 of them, and at least 30 bodies. While they were grateful to have won with no casualties didn’t stop the fact they hated cleaning up afterwards. By the time they were piled up, the sun was high and hot in the sky, making the stinking bodies more unbearable than usual. Ghoul sneered at the mask closest to him, smiling a sadistic grin as he threw the match onto the heap.
“Good riddance,” he grumbled, and walked away into the arcade with his hands deep in his pockets.
The other men were close behind, closing the hidden door behind them with a loud clack. Blitz was standing eagerly by the radio’s microphone, bouncing on her heels as she waited to hear the results of the fight. Pony slumped down into a wingback chair next to her, pulling off his helmet with a grunt, “Wasn’t much of a fight. Korse ran off as soon as he realized he was outnumbered.”
“Pussy,” she spat, crunching up a BLI flyer in her fist.
The doctor smiled and pulled her close, rubbing her head with his fist as a sign of endearment, “At least no one was ghosted.”
Blitz nodded and swung around on her heel, facing Kobra and Party, staring them down with wide, blue eyes, “How was it?”
“How was what?” Kobra asked, slumping down onto a barstool.
“The fight!” Blitz exclaimed, throwing the flyer and her hands into the air.
Party shrugged, “It was okay, I guess. I still feel weird shooting all those people, though.”
Pony cracked a sly smile, “That’ll pass in a couple of days. But for now… have a beer!”
He reached back behind his chair, pulling out two dusty beer bottles, handing them over to the newest Runners to join the pack. Kobra cracked his open with a wide grin, popping open his brother’s and handing it over as well.
Their bottles clinked together, and Kobra rose to his feet, hoisting his bottle into the air, “To the Zones!” he shouted.
“To the Zones!” Ghoul screamed back, opening his own beer and downing half in one mouthful.
Blitz hoisted herself up on the chipped wooden table the radio equipment was laid out on. She began to flip switches and reached up over her head to pull down one of the records that was piled above her. With a bright expression, she pulled the vinyl carefully from its flimsy paper sleeve, setting it down with a surgeon’s precision on the record player. She looked up and gave a wide wink to Party, dropping the needle down on the disk and bobbing her head to the music that warbled out. It was an old song, one he remembered from his childhood. A song about peace and love and sunshine, with bright, blaring horns and a bouncy beat. Blitz was mouthing the words to herself, smiling and playing with the frayed ends of her denim shorts. For the first time in years, Party felt truly at ease.
The day passed with little activity, for the sun was making the earth hot and dry. Even if they had gas to put in the cars, the risk of the engine overheating and leaving them stranded was too great. So, they meandered around the hovel of a hideout, trying to keep in the shade where it was cooler and away from the windows and the glaring sun. Blitz and Jet kept a half-hearted watch on the 6 cameras they had placed around the property. Ghoul was outside somewhere, mumbling something as he walked off about a transmission he needed to fix. Kobra was sprawled across the floor of the arcade, relishing the coldness of the tiles pressed against his face. Party stood over him, head cocked to one side and eyebrows knitted together, “What in the fuck are you doing?”
Kobra shrugged, rolling from his stomach to his back to look up at his brother, “It’s hot. The floor is cold.”
Party just rolled his eyes and stepped over him, slipping out the hidden door to have a smoke. Cigarettes were a rare and precious commodity in the zones, and he still had 7 left in his pack from when he escaped Battery City. He flicked a match on the brick exterior of the building, dipping his head down so no one could see him lighting it. It wasn’t that he didn’t mind sharing, it would just be better if they didn’t know. He was blowing out his first puff of smoke when Ghoul stumbled out of the garage with a succession of loud clangs. He had been carrying a tool box in one hand and a filter system in the other, when a cord caught his foot and sent him face first into the sand. Party nearly choked on his cigarette at the sudden sound, spitting it out of his mouth as he bent double and coughed. Ghoul looked up, face flushed in embarrassment, “Dude, I didn’t mean to scare you. You cool?”
Party nodded through his coughing, “Just a little surprised.”
He walked over; air filter still tucked under his arm, and gave a long, pleading look to the cigarette lying in the dirt. Party tweaked his mouth into a frown, and picked it up with shaking fingers, wiping away the sand and spit that was on the filter. “You wanna drag?” he asked softly, holding the cigarette towards Ghoul.
He only nodded and took it from him, taking three slow drags before handing it back. He smiled a sad sort of smile, “Never thought I’d miss a cigarette as much as I have.”
Party shrugged, “Life on the run isn’t always what you expect.”
“S’pose not,” he added, ducking his head down.
Party shuffled a bit in the sand, taking another drag from his smoke, “What, uhh, you workin’ on?”
Ghoul pointed back towards the garage with his thumb, “Little red Subaru. It looks alright but everything under the hood is shit.”
“You need a hand?” Party asked, looking at the dropped tools strewn in the dusty lot.
Ghoul smiled, grabbing the cigarette from Party’s hand and turning around towards the garage, “You know how to fix a car right?”
He nodded, “Dad taught me about cars. I know a thing or two.”
Ghoul clapped his hands together, raising up the door of the garage, “Party Poison, meet Sexy Sadie.”
It was a squat little sports car with a patchy red paint job. The hood was up and the car gutted, the engine and all its parts piled around the car on stools and milk crates. Ghoul leaned inside and began to tinker with the transmission, having Party hand him different tools and hold different parts. After a while, the sun was beginning to dip west and the doctor came out into the garage with a grave look on his face, “S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. is in zone 4. They’ll be here by nightfall.”
Ghoul blanched and dropped the wrench he was holding, “Better start loading up now then.”
He wandered inside, Party close behind him. Ghoul leaned over Jet’s shoulder, looking at the black, armored vans rolling down the road. “You think we got a chance?”
He sighed and turned around, “We need a miracle.”
Blitz was over by the radio, holding a record tight in her hands. She pulled it from its sleeve and set it carefully onto the player. It was a song of power and money, and for a brief moment, Party wondered if it was the last song he’d ever hear.
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