For the damsel in distress, this was bullshit. A girl couldn't go for a jog on the beach without having a tentacle yank her out into the waves. She'd fought it, sprouting claws and fangs to try to slash and bite at the limb, but there were sharp ridges on it that normal octopi and squid didn't have, cutting into her. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but there was something on it, something it excreted that was getting into her bloodstream and burning.

Which was her only excuse for why she was now further out than she could stand, valiantly trying not to swallow more water as she felt it tugging tenaciously on her leg. No way was she going to get killed by some Popeye reject, a feline roar leaving her as she tried again to claw at the tentacle around her, mostly oblivious to what was happening on the beach. That might also be in part because of the fact that her wounds weren't healing and the poison was making her feel nauseous and muzzy.