I bet things are confused in any six-car accident with multiple injuries. Adding in people being shot and magic and insectoid monsters and you’ve really got something cooking.
Since the cat was already out of the bag I just went ahead and healed myself and then the woman who got shot through the calf in front of everyone. I figured everyone would be desensitized to insane things happening by that point.
Wrong. Everyone freaked.
Kia Kid and the Wrangler Twins tried to boogey but I put the whammy on their cars so they couldn’t get away. In response one of them jumped back out of the car to try and brain me with a tire iron. I kicked his dick in pretty good. That took the starch out of his undies.
Before spare tires were a thing what did people smash each other’s heads in with on the road? In those days motorists probably all had hatchets in their back seat.
Everyone was looking at me like I had any idea what was going on so to deflect attention I says “Hey Randy, why are the bug people trying to get you?”
The older guy who had been thinking about jumping off the bridge froze like a wrestler in their first match and shook his head violently “I don’t know! I don’t know what’s going on, I’m just a comic!”
Ah-ha! “Did you know Christine Lane?”
He frowned “No. Who’s that?”
“How about Chubby O’Sullivan?”
He started to say no but then frowned harder “An old guy with the mustache? Used to come into the clubs and read the paper? Sort of, my dad knew him.”
And Bingo was his name-o.
Rocket Cat 