“Hey, Buzz Boy, didn’t I squash you last night?” asked Tim. They were in a large alleyway surrounded by old, run-down professional buildings. At this time of day, no one would be around to hear them.

“Huh-z?! Zzzzzzzzzz!!” Wazp buzzed in anger. He had white rimmed bruises on his left shoulder and torso. Wazp dangled Tim upside down in an undignified manner by his legs, trapping the ends of his long trench coat in his grasp, and shook him vigorously, hoping that his belongings would fall out. But only his wallet and house keys plopped onto the ground.

This is Timothy Thompson, requesting back-up! Tim tried to connect to his Keeper App through his Creed Crest. Fortunately, despite it being some distance away from him, the telepathically imbued device may as well have been in his hands. Two ruags so far. He was starting to feel queasy. Blood was rushing to his head, and being joggled back and forth didn’t help. If this continued any longer, then his concentration would be broken, and the app would not translate his thoughts into a proper notification.

:: Your friends have come online and are looking for a group to join! :: A notification bubble suddenly appeared in Tim’s mind. Alright! That means that reinforcements are coming; now I just have to hold out long enough until they arrive. Tim's thoughts raced as he stared down the duo once more.

If it weren’t for all those things, then he could have reached for his gun and taken a clear shot. Then again, hitting one of them would only anger the other two, and Tim was not confident in his quickshot skills.

:: Your request has been forwarded. Your party will join you shortly! ::

“S-s-stop!” Jenkins’ voice was barely audible due to his quivering. His left hand shook violently as he reached out in vain to help Tim. “P-please s-stop! You’re going to k-kill him!!”

“Sshut up!” commanded Hyssss, flicking him on the back of the head with the tip of his tail. Hyssss was deliberately holding back his frustration.

“Eep!” whimpered Jenkins, holding his head. After pulling his hand away from his head, he noticed some tiny smudges of blood, possibly from a light cut from the tail whipping he got. If it were not for the adrenaline coursing through his system, Jenkins would have most likely passed out by now.  

Tim could hear Hyssss snickering, but there was another deep, raspy voice. An unknown Snake-Blood had appeared out of nowhere and was slithering towards them, opposite Hyssss and Jenkins. He was light brown with dark spots running from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. His eyes were dull yellow slits. He looked older than his comrades, his metallic skin more oxidized than the others. He wore decorations of malachite green, similar to Hyssss, except with a darker color scheme.

The swirling patterns in the malachite added an artistic flair to his otherwise militant attire. A large red jewel was partially embedded in his forehead.

Correction. Three ruags! Two snakes — one wasp! Tim called telepathically. The latecomer is older, dull sheen, rust spot over his left breast and lower left abdomen. He remembered Sarah mentioning a Spider-Blood, but it was nowhere in sight.

:: Group request accepted! :: was the response.

“Why-z izn’t-z anything-z elze falling-z out-z?!” complained Wazp. He was getting impatient.

“Find hiss gun! He’ll be usselessss without it!” ordered Hyssss.

Gun?! Thought Jenkins in horror, his face was wan. Had he been working with a man who carried a gun with him? Somehow, that was more shocking than seeing the Blood, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like it was his first time.

“I-z know-z!!” snapped Wazp in irritation. He hated being told what to do by Hyssss, who wasn’t that much older than him. Wazp rummaged around until he found Tim’s clip-on holster and ripped it off.

“I-z found-z it-z!” declared Wazp proudly. He held up the holster to show off his find: Tim’s LRP65, individual rounds, round cartridges and two Fractite Cuffs. Jenkins’ eyes bulged when he saw what Tim had been hiding all along. No wonder he wore a trench coat all the time!

The unknown Snake-Blood whistled at Tim’s stash. Tim prayed that Wazp would be stupid enough to forget his Cr—

“Don’t forget hiss Creed Cresst,” the Snake-Blood reminded him.

“Yez, Kobre-z,” responded Wazp. He tossed his prize to the side and yanked off Tim’s necklace. Wazp taunted him with it, waving it in his face before letting it join the rest of his hoard.

Just when Tim thought things couldn’t get any worse, three Blood entered the alleyway from the opposite end. By the sounds of it, they were not his backup.

That’s waaaaaaay more than three ruags, thought Tim.

Jenkins froze as he heard the footsteps and slowly turned his head to look. A massive Spider-Blood was crawling towards them. He had a beige hue and resembled a Net-casting Spider with indented, swirling tattoos throughout his body. His jaws ended with a pair of fangs. There were two massive, menacing amber-yellow eyes, and six beady ones scattered across his forehead, all of which met Jenkins’ gaze. The young man turned so pale that a ghost wouldn’t rival him.

“S-spi … der …” Jenkins whimpered as he passed out immediately. He was clearly arachnophobic. So was Tim. Any bug with eight or more legs creeped him out; that and squirming worms.

“J.K.!!”

“Pathetic mynah,” scoffed the Spider-Blood.

Tim would have turned pale too if he wasn’t already red from the blood rushing to his head. But he did get goosebumps as he got a closer look at the Spider-Blood. This guy looks like he just crawled out from someone’s nightmare!

“Uhh … do I sstill have to hold him?” Hyssss asked awkwardly, referring to the unconscious Jenkins.

No one responded as a large Canine-Blood resembling a German Shepherd stepped forward, leaving the Spider-Blood and another Wasp-Blood behind. He was dark gray, with black patches around his muzzle, forehead, and back. “Raknae, Vezpar, stay,” he commanded in a deep, husky voice.

Wazp, Hyssss, and Kobre bowed their heads as they greeted him. “Boszszss,” was what they sounded like in unison.

The Canine-Blood waved them off as he approached the dangling Tim. Wazp dropped Tim before his boss’ feet.

THUD.

The ruags snickered as Tim hit the ground. He had shifted his weight out of reflex and landed on his side rather than — Phoenia forbid — his neck.

“Yueh oospad j’kreh!” Tim cursed at Wazp. The world was spinning around him.

“Quiet-z,” demanded Wazp, kicking Tim on his left side. He coughed in pain as he glowered at the ruag. Each kick like a metal baseball bat to his ribs— not that he’d ever been struck by one before. 

“So, this is the mynah who gave you trouble earlier,” the Canine-Blood surmised, unimpressed.

“Yess, Bossss,” answered Hyssss, shuffling uncomfortably as he supported his deadweight. Jenkins’ weight meant nothing to the Blood, but it was unpleasant being unable to move. At least Wazp had the pleasure of tormenting his prey.

“Thiz little-z puka-z kicked-z me-z in-z the-z face-z!” Wazp added like a whining child. Tim smirked as he remembered it.

“Yes, yes! We all know that!” barked the Canine-Blood unsympathetically.

Tim sized him up. He was well-groomed compared to his underlings and stood with good posture. If he were to take a stroll around U’dreg Rookweh, he would have looked like an exemplary citizen. No one would have guessed he was a ruag, a lowly criminal. The only thing that could have given him away were his slanted, dead, yellow eyes.

“So… you’re Snareel?” asked Tim, still sprawled on the ground, still cringing in discomfort.

Snareel stepped on Tim’s chest roughly, maintaining his straight back. If he had put his whole weight on him, Tim would have been crushed. While they were already large in stature, the fact that they were made of metal compounded the weight they could throw around. From Tim’s perspective, it was like being under the wrong end of a hydraulic press. Tim’s mind raced as the continuous pressure made it harder for him to breathe.

The average case of shortness of breath can best be thought of as difficulty breathing, not impossible, just difficult. This was far more than that; it was as if the air was being squeezed out of Tim like a tube of toothpaste. At first, he was able to articulate his thoughts, plan, and strategize, but as the pressure continued to bear down on him, his fight-or-flight response kicked in. Pushing, fighting, gnawing, but with the fury of a dying beast, each strike weaker than the last. But just as the deathstroke was near, the pressure let up.

“That’s Lord Snareel to you!” he barked.

The two young delinquents could be heard bickering.

“… Lord-z Znareel-z …” whispered Wazp.

“… Lord Ssnareel!” Hyssss whispered back irritably.

“It seems like you’ve been messing with my underlings — in my turf,” said Snareel, ignoring their annoying squabble.

“U’dreg Rookweh — is no one’s — turf, certainly not — a mutt’s!!” Though his lungs felt as though they were on fire, it was still not enough to deter him from insulting the opponent before him. Hissing and buzzing filled the air as Tim spoke. The Spider-Blood clicked angrily as he visibly tensed, preparing to pulverize him for insulting his boss.

Snareel hated being called a mutt — and no one got away with it. With subdued frustration painted across his face, he raised an arm. The underlings fell silent instantly.

“This mynah likes to run his mouth,” he noted.

Snareel then bent over and flicked Tim’s mouth. It wasn’t often that Snareel liked to get his paws dirty, but occasionally he relished in taunting his victims personally. Snareel loomed over Tim. “You know, ancient nobles of the Fiza Kuulte (Frozen Cruelty) used blades crafted with cobalt edges to inflict a series of shallow cuts on one another. Cobalt, as you know, is very toxic to us. It was a test of strength, endurance and honor. You should thank the fact that we live in far more civilized times.”

Though his body was still under immense pressure, Tim tried to remove Snareel’s foot off his chest as he continued to ramble on in an attempt to compare himself with ancient nobility. The other ruags laughed mockingly as Tim looked pathetic in his struggle to remain among the conscious.

“Thanks to your little interference, business has been stalled,” said Snareel, sighing as he spoke. He took his foot off of Tim’s chest and began to pace back and forth. Tim took a deep breath, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. It was amazing how a near-death experience could make someone truly appreciate the little things.

Tim tried to focus through all the sensory information that was waylaying his neural pathways; the amount of information from his pain receptors alone was at risk of burning out his axons. With the weight lifted off his chest, Tim rolled over on his side and groaned in intense pain. “No — reaction,” he managed to say between coughing breaths.

Tim then tried to make another verbal jab at Snareel, despite his agony. “Call — that business,” Tim wheezed, wholly unimpressed. Wazp thought he had a death wish. Snareel then stomped on Tim’s right side.

Tim’s eyes burst into tears as the levee he had created finally broke, and the sensations he had ignored and pushed aside came boiling to the surface all at once. Though it pained him, he could not let his enemies know that they had broken his will just yet.

“I don’t like your tone there,” cautioned Snareel. “It seems we must teach you one last lesson before ending your miserable life,” his frowning jowls twisted into a sinister grin.

“If you — kill me, you’ll — be declaring war — against the — Creed,” Tim assured him, huffing in the process. “Are — you — sure you — want to risk that?”

“Hmmm … I suppose you are under the Creed’s protection,” said Snareel, rubbing his chin as he pretended to ponder Tim’s question. “But what about your friend over there?” he asked. His eyes gleamed at the thought as he gestured to the unconscious Jenkins.

The underlings all cackled with hisses, buzzes, and clicks. Tim couldn’t help but be reminded of a pack of hyenas. Hyssss was looking especially enthusiastic, like a child granted permission to play with a new toy.

Tim’s adrenaline suddenly kicked in as his eyes narrowed with anger. “Touch him – and I’ll freeze you all so fast — your heads will shatter!” he threatened — hoping to make good on that promise. It didn’t sound too convincing; Tim was still lying on the pavement like a turned-over turtle.

“Oooh, hooo! You have a sharp tongue! Is that also under the Creed’s protection?” Snareel taunted. “Time to have some fun, boys,” Snareel stepped back. “Raknae, to me,” Tim heard him whisper. The Spider-Blood immediately scurried protectively next to him. His legs had moved so fast that Tim could barely see them.

Creepy-looking bugger. He thought as his goosebumps danced wildly. The rest of the ruags surrounded Tim while snickering. Hyssss looked very unwilling to stay where he was.

Kobre slithered forward while cracking his knuckles. “You Keeperss think you’re all that. Can’t do anything without your fancy gun now, can you?”

This can’t be good, thought Tim. He tried to hide his worry, but it had managed to slip onto his face. At this point, he knew he’d be unable to save Jenkins or himself. How much time had passed since he had called for backup? Will they find their dead bodies, or will they become permanent missing persons? No, I just have to stall, he convinced himself.

“Stand up mynah, at least make this more entertaining for us,” commanded Snareel with an almost bored look.

“Here-z, let-z me-z help-z you-z, heh-z heh-z,” said Wazp, forcefully pulling Tim into a standing position by his head, gritting his teeth in pain. The ruags hollered with laughter as he stood in a somewhat hunched position.

“Sso, uh, do I sstill have to hold him?” Hyssss awkwardly chimed in. Everyone looked at Hyssss in disbelief, including Tim.

“Read-sz the-sz mood-sz, fulu-sz!” Vezpar barked, buzzing in frustration. He was a yellowy chrome, blotted with dark spots everywhere. His face was long and angular, with cold, hooded, light-yellow eyes. Dark spikes ran along his head like a mohawk. Similar to Wazp, he tucked away his silver wings.

Chance! Tim used the distraction to strike first and dived for his equipment behind Wazp. His leg and his lungs screamed in agony, but he was determined to get a preemptive strike. Wazp quickly noticed and partially stomped on him mid-dive.

“Ack!”

“Heh-z heh-z,” mocked Wazp. “Who-z zquizhed-z who-z now-z?”