Issue 021 Candy Corn Carnage! Part 1

Halloween in Neo-Boston – Yummy Brains!

COVER SPLASH “Trick-or-Treat Trauma!”

A blood-orange moon drips over Old Town. The SWEET RIDE, chrome ice-cream truck painted like a gingerbread house on acid, barrels through fog. Headlights glow demonic red. Phoebe Martino’s ponytail whips around as Gerda the Glutton dunks her head into a bubbling vat of orange goo. Kei Sakamoto blurs in vamp-speed, fangs bared. Artemis Foxx shadow-ports across rooftops, ruby dagger flashing. Rosabelle in dragon-onesie slams the truck’s flank with a scaled fist. CRUNCH!

NARRATIVE

Halloween fog rolls off the Mystic River like cheap synth-smoke. Neon jack-o’-lanterns flicker. Kids in holographic costumes clutch glowing buckets. Parents who snatched their children’s treats convulse. Orange goo drools from slack jaws. Skin crusts into sugar-zombie rot in seconds. Eyes glaze. Arms reach.

Dr. Phoebe Martino kneels beside a twitching zombie-dad, brass goggles whirring. Spectral scanner: WYRD ENERGY 97% – SOURCE: CANDY CORN. “It’s not a virus,” she mutters. “It’s a weaponized nostalgia.”

Kei Sakamoto’s red eyes flare. Vampiric senses zoom her vision three blocks ahead, straight to the SWEET RIDE idling at the curb. In the service window: Gerda, apron stretched over troll bulk, glamour barely holding. Kei’s lip curls. “Dunlowe House kitchen. Her.”

The team charges into the fray.

Artemis “Vixxen” Foxx flickers from shadow to shadow, glamour peeling orange-drooling zombies off screaming kids like stickers. “Stay behind the fox, short stuff, tag, you’re it!”

Rosabelle roars in dragon-onesie, tiny wings flapping. She BURNINATE!s a cluster of goo-zombies with dragon breath, melting candy shells into steaming puddles.

Street after street becomes a battlefield. Zombies shamble in waves, drooling neon orange. Kei’s service weapon cracks, POINT BLANK SHOT dropping two at a time. Artemis BACKBITERs through the press, dagger flashing. Rosabelle barrels like a red comet, DRAGON FEAR scattering the undead.

Block by block, the Silicon Dragons carve a path through the sugar apocalypse.

Finally, the SWEET RIDE looms, retro chrome painted like a gingerbread house on acid. Gerda leans out, voice syrupy: “Fresh candy corn, dearies! Extra crunch!”

Kei lands in a crouch, fangs bared. A dozen kids freeze. “RUN. Unless you want real monsters tonight.” HISSS!

The children inside panic.

Phoebe activates ROBO-STILTS, vaulting the crowd. “Iron for witches, let’s test the folklore!” She WHAMs an old horseshoe into Gerda’s jaw. CRACK!
Glamour SHATTERS. Gerda’s true troll bulk erupts, apron ripping. “Iron’s for hags, scientist. Trolls just get HUNGRY.”

Gerda GRABS Phoebe by the lab coat and DUNKS her head-first into the molten orange vat. Wyrd runes hiss. GLORP!

Rosabelle slams the truck’s side with DRACONIC STRENGTH. Metal crumples like tinfoil. “Let. Big sis. GO!”

The Sweet Ride’s headlights flare DEMONIC RED. Tires screech. Gingerbread shutters snap like teeth. VROOOOM! CHOMP!

Kei and Artemis skid to a halt as the truck PEELS OUT, dragging Phoebe inside by her ponytail. “Phoebe’s cargo now!”

CLIFFHANGER The Sweet Ride vanishes into the fog, taillights blinking like laughing eyes. Somewhere inside, Phoebe’s coughs up candy syrup, her eyes glowing orange.

TO BE CONTINUED…