"Jesus Christ!"<br/><br/>It was like something out of a nightmare.  The rational part of Scott's mind insisted that he couldn't<em>possibly</em>be seeing what he was seeing, that it had to have been someone in an elaborate Halloween costume.  If so, then it had to have been the best costume ever.  The stench alone was almost a physical force, strong enough to send him reeling.<br/><br/>He managed to duck out of the way of one of the swinging arms and with a shrill, un-masculine cry, brought the tire iron down on the...<em>thing</em>...as hard as he could.  He felt it tremble and give a feral, bestial groan.  However, it kept pushing forward, and Scott backpedaled out of pure panic.  His foot slipped on a discarded paper cup, and he fell on his ass.  He brought the tire iron up, protecting his face, trying to fend the thing off as it towered over him.<br/><br/>"Deacon, help!" he cried out.