I’m no scholar, but then again, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out he’s the leader of this merry band of assholes. And it seems that, somehow, everyone is part of his silent army. It’s clear these people are not the trained killers from the Gas Light Colony, as most of them are ancient and out of shape. Alone, the human raisins wouldn’t stand a chance against me. Which is probably why there are hundreds of them.
They’re literally standing shoulder to shoulder to form an impenetrable wall of flesh and bone. And right in the very center is kindly ol’ Rita. My heart breaks at the sight of the syrupy-sweet grandma waiting with fangs out.
My monster instinctively scans the group to find a weak spot. “Now, Mr. Flynn, you’re not thinki...
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