They clattered and banged toward me like a thousand rabid hippos. One, two, three... I lost count and gave up trying. Instead, I slipped into combat trance mode, started doing some quick passes with my hands (no, I wasn’t casting spells!).
A ripple rolled down my arms—they thinned out, bent at unnatural angles, and lit up with ghostly flame. I carefully pumped each limb full of enemy- shredding ectoplasm.
Alright, trashballs. Time to play some freakin’ bowling.
I peeled a chunk off my new arm, squished it into a ball, and launched a test throw. It went nowhere, splashed against a wall, and fizzled. Ectoplasm only works on certain things—it wouldn’t hurt a regular building.
But then—bam! Direct hit. That shot landed right in the gooey bullseye. Three monsters got wrapped in sticky sludge and started to decay on the spot.
Bon appétit, my little rotcakes. Another four bins bit the dust.
The remaining cans, seeing their buddies get turned into soup, kicked it into high gear. They suddenly switched up strategy—like frickin’ cheerleaders, they started launching each other toward me in massive leaps.
I dodged each one with style, but one of those sneaky bastards flicked its tongue out and wrapped it around my leg.
I dropped to one knee, hard. The bastards saw that and got hyped—charging me like they were in a group discount at Rage Room.
Curled in pain, I channeled everything I had into my hands. The -Dragon Strike- was ready. I slammed both palms into the first trash beast that got too close. It crumpled like a soda can. The next few met the same fate.
My energy was draining fast. Way too fast. I realized I’d blown way too much juice on such worthless opponents. When I cut the glow from my hands and tried boosting ectoplasm production to recover—big mistake.
One last bin took advantage of my delay.
And man, you should’ve seen that takeoff! It spun mid-air, repeating that first bin’s tornado move—but three times faster—and launched itself at my head.
I barely dodged in time. Still got clipped in the same temple that was already messed up. My vision blurred from the pain.
Instinct kicked in. I dumped the entire flask on that metal freak without a second thought.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
It ignited instantly. Roared up into a crackling bonfire that’d make any tourist say, -Wow, is this a Christmas event?-
It took me a sec to realize two very dumb things:
One — I’d been fighting this whole time with the flask still in my hand, never tossed it back into my pocket.
Two — now it was empty. Every last drop, gone.
And if you don’t torch the monsters from beyond the Wall? They recover. Fast. And they’ll be back, badder and slimier than before.
I stared at the mess around me, totally dumbfounded. My brain was racing through a thousand bad ideas, until one finally stuck.
Screw the rules—I was gonna be a bad citizen for once.
I’d chuck all these trashbags beyond the Wall like expired yogurt. Sure, it wouldn’t solve the problem—they’d crawl back eventually—but I’d buy myself time. Time to grab fresh supplies... or, if I was feeling generous, spend some actual power to nuke them.
I heard the distinct sound of hands clapping behind me. Applause? Here?!
Not far off, next to a small truck, stood a pair: a tall, fit man and a petite girl
with long curly hair. Hanging from her neck was a cord with a sleek, vintage-style professional camera.
The guy was rocking a long trench coat with a high collar and fancy Oxford shoes with heavy heels. That’s about all I had time to register—because guess what? Life threw in another surprise act.
Boom. Boom. The asphalt trembled with each massive slap like someone beating war drums. Snow toppled from rooftops and car hoods, falling in sync with the thunderous steps.
That’s when I finally switched to Dark Sight and saw the world with altered vision. Everything shimmered with chaotic energy, flashing in bursts of color and form. But to a normal bystander? It just looked like... a huge industrial dumpster.
But what a dumpster!
Lumbering toward me with royal swagger came the King of All Trashcans, rocking a mouth the size of a bus filled with iron fangs, and a tongue— okay, cable—whipping the ground like something from a BDSM nightmare.
Yeah, nope. Not the kind of foreplay I signed up for.
I should’ve paused, regrouped, planned better after all my recent screwups. But nah. I charged at the junk titan like danger was my idea of a cuddle session. Real smart, girl.
Before the cord-tongue could whip me across the shoulder, I poured the last scraps of ectoplasm into my system and pulled off a Trickster's Move. If it didn’t work? I was toast. No time to recharge.
My body warped and shrunk into an unnatural, barrel-like shape— mimicking the form of one of those smaller trash fiends I’d fought earlier. The big boy hesitated, tongue retreating in confusion. What he saw was one of his –own, - standing before him.
The transformation drained the hell out of me—I was ready to stick my tongue out and pass out on the spot.
We stood there for a few long seconds: me recovering, him in total confusion. Just enough time for me to channel my final drop of energy into my left hand (right one was outta juice—good thing I’m a natural lefty).
That hand, full of vengeance, I jammed straight into the metal side of the dumpster king.
Nope, I didn’t metaphysically destroy his Essence in the astral plane— didn’t have the power for that tonight. I just went caveman on his shell. Five solid punches into the weak spot I made, and he backed off a bit, cooling his jets.
And again... applause. Oh, right.
I’d forgotten about the fanclub chilling by the truck. Great.
I had to knock them out and ship them off for a quick memory wipe at the station. They’d seen way too much. I’m the Big Secret in this town, and I plan on staying that way.
So I switched off my second sight, turned my hand back to normal, dusted myself off, and walked over to them.
- Thanks for the Always performing for my dear fans. Want autographs too?