Many Candy

Damon felt a rumble in his stomach as he walked down the street just after lunch. He was certain it was the candy he just ate, “Many Candy” it was called, a single bag with a handful of different flavors. They were a self proclaimed “soul candy,” whatever that meant. The candy was good, almost too good, as he ate the whole bag. But, now it was time to get back to work, carpet won’t replace itself!
He adjusted his tool belt as he walked through the cross walk, then wiped the sweat from his face. Was it hot out here? He had just noticed it if it was. Damon was sure it was warming up, he felt irritable suddenly as he began to sweat more and more, his stomach grumbling worse than before. He hated the city. He hated these streets. He hated all of the people surrounding him, and he especially hated all of the traffic. What? I don’t hate people, I love this city. A disturbing thought for Damon, very uncharacteristic. Must be this heat. No one else looked hot.
He came to a stop as the cross walk, watching the traffic zoom by. People piled up behind him, making him feel claustrophobic. “Hey pal, any chance I can get you to back up a bit?” Damon asked, being as polite as he could with his current agitation.
“Where should I go?” a burly man responded sourly.
“I don’t know, just give me some room to breathe if you don’t mind”
“You aren’t the only one that can’t fucking breathe, just suffer with the rest of us.” The man gave a look that implied he didn’t care about Damon’s well being one way or another.
Damon looked up to see a bus approaching. He turn to the large man behind him and growled “I show you suffering” as he grabbed the man by the lapel and jerked him forward, his momentum throwing the man into the street, right in front of the bus.”
“Oh my God!” A woman shrieked as the man bus slammed on its brakes just as it slammed into the man, sending the man flying two body lengths and spraying blood all over those at the curb.
“What the hell just happened,” someone in the crowd screamed as the bus driver dismounted the bus, running to the growing crowd around the body.
“I don’t know what the hell he was thinking, he jumped right out in front of me, I swear.” The driver stuttered.
“No, he didn’t jump,” a man in a suit said as he grabbed Damon’s arm. “This guy pushed him!”
“Let go of me,” Damon said in a low rumble as hate filled his eyes. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Or what, you’ll push me in front of a bus?” The man taunted him. “Come on, am I the only one who say him push him”
Before the guy could think, Damon grabbed his utility knife from his tool belt and slashed the man across the throat spraying blood everywhere. People screamed all around him as the suited man collapsed holding his throat. Finally, people gave him some space as they backed up, creating a large circle with Damon in the middle and two bloody masses at his feet. What is wrong with me?
Two policemen broke through the crowd and drew their weapons.
“Put the knife down and put your hands up!” The younger one shouted, his voice wavering with uncertainty.
Damon gave a quick smile and threw his hands up and tossed the blade to the ground. He looked up, tossing his head back as he pulled his hands down to gather strength and let out a high pitch screech. Sounds flowed from his throat that he had never heard. The people around Damon covered their ears and hunkered down as blood began trickling from their ears. Windows in nearby cars and buildings exploded, setting off horn alarms all around as Damon’s shrill cry came to an end. Look at the two cops, Damon let out a low bellow that shook the ground before the sewer cover they were standing on shot up, sending the cops flying and the sewage spewing everywhere as if flowed like a fountain from the street. Rats crawled from every drainage ditch making their way toward Damon and eating at the bodies around him.
The officers regained their footing as they fought off the rats, guns in hand. The officers looked at each other, not sure what is going on, then opened fire on Damon, striking him multiple times. But Damon never moved, not even to fall to the ground.
Damon smiled again. “Your bullets are useless!” A chorus of banshees streamed from his throat. “Legio mihi nomen est, quia multi sumus.” Damon didn’t know Latin, but he knew that was Latin. He also understood it: My name is Legion; for we are many. He reached into his pocket and grabbed the bag of candy. Many Candy. Soul Candy. Legion Candy Company. What had he eaten? He turned the bag over to see a picture of each candy. Each picture contained a brief description as to the soul of the Demon it contained.
Damon felt his head jerk back, then felt his forehead, where a large hole had appeared. The cop dropped his gun and fled as Damon looked up, grinning. It was no longer Damon. Damon was just shot in the head. Legion shrieked again as buildings exploded and caught fire. Finally, a fool dimwitted enough to eat the candy.