Dera didn't slow down when the monsters came into view.
The road ahead was torn apart, buildings collapsed, lampposts snapped like matchsticks. A cluster of nightcrawlers skittered across the broken concrete—six-limbed, eyeless things, pale skin stretched too thin over muscle and bone. Their jaws opened vertically, teeth like needle fans. One of them turned at the sound of her bike. It screeched.
Dera didn't flinch.
She pulled the .45 from her thigh and fired.
CRACK.
A bolt of blue lightning exploded through the nightcrawler's skull, sending it flipping backward like a doll tossed by a god. The others charged. She dropped the next one mid-run, swerved right, leaned into the bike, and holstered the gun with a snap.
Another crawler leapt at her from the left.
She ducked low on the bike, swerved under it, then flung a small canister behind her.
Click. Ping.
BOOM.
A fire rune bomb went off in a tight radius—monster bits scattered across the pavement like wet leaves.
