PREVIEW
... in Work)
I don’t even need to give them the order. Lefty and Righty know what’s up.
The spectral fists, glowing faintly blue in the dim torchlight, surge forward like caffeinated pit bulls at a mailman convention. Bones crack, dust puffs into the air like cheap talcum powder, and femurs snap like twigs beneath a boot.
But there’s too many of them.
It’s like smashing cockroaches in a hoarder’s basement. I take a step back, grabbing Jelly Boy as he starts to jiggle ...
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