“Beats — me,” Tim admitted, scratching his chin. “I can’t — believe they — blew their — cover just — to — clobber me.” He exerted himself trying to get the words out at a normal pace.

“Me too,” said Officer Jones, holding out his hand. “Anyways, you know the drill, kid.”

Tim handed over his wallet and phone. Officer Jones scanned Tim’s Creed Crest with his phone and then counted all of the cash from his wallet. He jotted everything down in his notepad and plopped the items into a plastic bag.

“We’ll be returning these to you and the boy over there tomorrow,” he notified Tim.

Tim nodded. That meant that they were going to announce the capture of underage thugs the next day. Tim would identify the delinquents, who were actually actors working for the Creed, and their stolen belongings would be returned. Simple and clean.

“All done, Sir!” the two younger officers reported at the same time. The detainment cubes had already been moved into one of the police cars by Kich. Officer Burns handed back Tim’s cuffs, who thanked him as he tucked them away. The gelatinous masses slithered out of the alleyway.

“All done here, too,” said one of the blobs. Tim wasn’t quite sure which one he was.

One of them approached him and asked, “Want me to fix that for you, son?” He was referring to his trench coat. Tim pulled it off and handed it over. The Blood shoved the whole thing into his mouth, appearing to chew on it for a minute before spitting it back into Tim’s arms. It didn’t look good as new, but the rips and tears had disappeared. Tim thanked the Blood gratefully as he put it back on. The Blood eyed Tim’s ripped jeans and told him to buy a new pair.

The blob moved back to his respective car. Officer Moreau handed him the contents he had collected from Jenkins, which the Gardios gobbled. Afterwards, he seeped back into the crevices of the car, re-merging with the vehicle.

“We’re all done here,” announced Officer Jones. “Boys, take down the field.”

“Yes, Sir,” the men chimed in unison.

Jenkins began to stir a little, slowly coming from unconsciousness.

“Hmm … it’s time for me to take my leave,” said Terranis, disappearing into the shadows.

“Go ahead with the memory swipe, kid,” said the officer, patting him on the back before getting into his car. “You might want to take a break. Your body looks like it’s about to fall apart.”

“I’ll keep — that in — mind — Sir.”

“And stay out of trouble, boy,” he added. “I hate seeing you while on the job. It’s never anything good,” he waved as the crew silently drove off, leaving Officer Moreau behind.

Tim attempted to let out a sigh before heading over to Jenkins. There were no signs that a battle had ensued in the alleyway. The large web had been removed, and all damage to the buildings and ground had been repaired. Like before, the place still looked old and run-down. Tim struggled to squat down, wincing as his leg smarted and his rib pain flared up again, and began tapping Jenkins on the shoulder to wake him up.

“J.K. — J.K.! Are you — okay?”

Jenkins slowly began to stir, his eyes opening slightly, “Uuuuugh …”

Tim tapped his Creed Crest and waved his hand in front of him. Afterwards, Jenkins stared blankly into space. Tim had swiped Jenkins’ memories of the night’s events. One of the Keeper’s most valuable assets was the Occluded Path; it was not so much a means of snatching away a memory, but ensuring the memory became lost in one’s own mind. A surprising result of the Blood’s earliest attempts to communicate with humanity, back when they only utilized their telepathy. 

In those early days, where myth was legend and legend was a distant memory, the Blood had their first encounter, or first contact, with an animal not like the others, one using tools and making rudimentary garments. In their excitement, they tried to reach out and communicate. What was a lucid voice for the Blood, though, was grating metal to the human minds. The results of their communication attempts were intense pain and headaches in the new people. It was through this that the most basic form of the Occluded Paths emerged. The Blood did not understand healing as the animals they mimicked did; in their effort to soothe the pain, they discovered a means to alter the memory of the creature they were trying to heal.

He resumed tapping his co-worker on the shoulders. “J.K. — J.K.! Are you — okay, man?!”

Jenkins slowly came to his senses. “Wh-wh-what?!” He looked confused for a moment, his eyes glazed over, before realizing that Tim was looming over him.

“Eep!” he cried out in surprise. He pushed Tim, causing him to fall over.

“Ow! What — was — that for — man?!” Tim asked in frustration as he continued to clutch his ribcage in pain. 

Jenkins scrambled to his feet, pointing in shock as he tried to keep his distance. “Wh-wha-what are you doing?! Why am I here?!” he asked as he looked around, spotting the policeman nearby. The lights on the roof of the car were flashing. The radio was playing a song, but Tim was pretty sure it was the Gardios singing karaoke.

“Hey — calm down. Don’t — you remember? We were — jumped — by some — thugs!” Tim tried to explain as he struggled to stand back up, slowly brushing the dirt off in the process.

“Th-thugs?!” Jenkins squeaked, trying his best to check his injuries. The only thing he could find was a small cut on the back of his head. “What happened?!”