Good
I charge them and leap through their open windshield, a hail of bullets around me. Their screams of triumph roll over into terror as I enter the car. My tentacles gouge eyes and snap fingers. I don't need to see what I'm doing, Ifeeleverything in the car. I take their guns, grab the wheel and hit the gas pedal at the same time. I strangle the driver and crush the balls of the guy in the passenger seat.
I'm all over them, and they're all screaming. Or trying to.
That's right fuckers. I'm a monster. I'm the thing your mothers warned you about when they put you to bed. I'm the reason you wake in the night covered in cold sweat.
And I'm not in the mood for this.
The car veers off course. I take us right into a brick wall at 70 miles an hour. The driver flies out the front. He should have worn a seatbelt.
I don't need a seatbelt because I'm holding ontothem. Heads are torn free, arms ripped from their sockets, ribcages tear open to spray me with blood.
