“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 for 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 could 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 thoughts raced as he once more stared down the trio of ruags.

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 have 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 from Hyssss and Jenkins. He was light brown with dark spots running down from the top of his head to his back and tail. His eyes were dull yellow slits. He looked older than his comrades, his metallic skin looking more oxidized compared to 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 flare to his otherwise militant attire. A large red jewel was partially embedded into his forehead.

Correction. Three ruags! Two snakes — one wasp! Tim called telepathically. The late comer 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 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 back-up.