Sarah paced back and forth, checking her phone over and over again. Not because she expected an answer, but because it kept her preoccupied. There were only fifteen minutes left. Her two best friends, Cindy and Karen, stood nearby watching. Cindy styled her blonde hair into a trendy pixie cut. She wore a long-sleeved, knee-length, black dress. Karen had long, sleek black hair, which she tied into a French braid and wore a dark red gown.

“Where’s your crush? Is he running late, too?” Cindy teased. The two friends laughed as Sarah’s face flushed.

“Oh my gosh, shut up, guys!” said Sarah, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard.

“It’s no secret,” Cindy giggled. “Everyone knows about it!”

“So, is he coming?” Karen asked as she fiddled with her braid, twirling the lock of hair absentmindedly as she awaited a response.

“Something came up,” Sarah explained, still blushing. “He can’t make it.” She stroked her phone case, pink with swirling patterns, fearing that something had happened to her brother, too.

Off in a small waiting room, the rest of the family was sitting in wait.

“I’m afraid misfortune must have befallen him,” Terranis shook his head in disappointment.

“According to the GPS, Tim has been moving sporadically in an alleyway for quite some time,” Jonathan Thompson added while checking his phone. He was a middle-aged man who looked almost exactly like Sarah, except with short dark brown hair and a few wrinkles here and there. He wore a red and white checkered shirt, a black tie and black slacks held in place by a dark brown belt. “Chances are, he’s in a fight,” he continued.

“What should we do, Jo?” Tabitha asked her husband. She wore a long black dress with a small silver necklace. “The ceremony is starting soon!”

“Hm … I can’t leave to help him,” Terranis noted as he shook his head, masking his regret with his usual serious expression.

“Of course not, Terranis!” Jonathan insisted, placing a hand on Terranis’ arm. “You’re responsible for forging the Creed Crest. The ceremony won’t be complete without you!”

“I can head over,” offered a tall man, sitting in the corner. He had short, messy brown hair, as though he hadn’t bothered to comb it at all; there were dark bags under his dull green eyes; and an unkempt stubble beard. He wore a wrinkled black tuxedo that was hastily put on.

Markus shook his head in disagreement, “Nah. Better one person late than two.”

“Excuse me,” said Jonathan as he walked off while making a phone call.

“You young ones worry too much,” chuckled Markus. “Since when has Tim let us down?” He had decided to sit at one of the chairs by the waiting room wall.

“We’re the same age …” Terranis muttered, slightly insulted.

“Let down, no,” stated the tall man. “Come back beaten up, yes.”

Markus shook his head. “He can handle a few brutes and bruises,” he said, like it was nothing.

“He looked half-dead after his last fight!!” Tabitha interjected.

“He was attacked by six ruags, and they had a hostage,” Terranis added. “It’s a miracle he was still alive when I got there.”

If Tabitha were holding onto plates, she probably would have dropped them.

“Those brutes were already sent to the hub, Tabs,” Markus assured her. “We’re unlikely to have another set of six in town.”

“Little Rockwell is usually so peaceful. Why are there so many ruags all of a sudden? What’s going on?” she asked.

“Must be that Snareel chap that Tim told us about,” Markus speculated.

Jonathan walked through the door to rejoin them. “Alright, apparently the Creed cops were already aware of Tim’s situation and are on their way. There’s only one Blood this time. We don’t have to worry.” He pocketed his phone.

Tabitha breathed a big sigh of relief.

“If it really comes down to it, we’ll just have to start the ceremony without him,” Jonathan said flatly.

“What happened to Jason-boy anyways, Housten?” Markus asked the tall man. He was referring to Tim’s closest friend and a fellow Keeper.

“The same thing that always happens to Tim,” Housten replied casually.

“They’re just a bundle of bad luck, aren’t they? Just like you and Hal, eh?” Markus asked, nudging Jonathan. He ignored his father’s playful jab.

The Elders could be seen talking amongst themselves, frowning the whole time. “Late for his own sister’s Blood Oath, how shameful!” Terranis overheard one of them commenting.

Just then, Sarah approached Terranis. Her eyes were sparkling as though she had come up with a solution to their dilemma.

“Terry, I have an idea on how to prolong the ceremony a little, if needed, but I’m going to need your help.”

Terranis raised a brow in amusement.

Meanwhile, in the abandoned rental store, Wazp buzzed angrily as he dove towards Tim. He managed to narrowly dodge the enraged insect as he mindlessly crashed into an empty rental shelf. A plume of dust flew everywhere, causing Tim to hack and cough uncontrollably.  

Great, here I go getting all dirty again, the Head Elder is going to chew me out for sure! Covering his face with his sleeve, Tim continued to scan for Wazp. Suddenly, Wazp charged out of the cloud, straight into the store's high ceiling, buzzing in frustration and swearing in the Blood language.

Huh, buzzboy’s not used to flying in enclosed spaces… perfect. It seemed Housten’s advice was starting to pay off as the beginnings of a plan formed in his mind. Tim started moving from shelf to shelf, thinking of trying to take a few potshots at Wazp, but the dust everywhere made it very hard to get a lock on him. Tim also had to keep in mind that he didn’t have as much ammunition on hand; after all, he did not anticipate getting into a fight on the way to his sister's ceremony.

As Wazp continued to try to wipe away the dust from his eyes, he could hear the faintest of movements down below. Instinctively, Wazp fired his needles into the cloud below.

As Tim moved to another shelf, he suddenly felt a burning, irritating sensation along his right forearm. Wondering what could have grazed him, he then noticed three more needle-like projectiles changing course to intercept him. It was painfully apparent now that they could track his every move, whether through thought or by instinct, Tim did not have time to figure it out.

In an attempt to distract the clueless insect, Tim frantically searched for something, anything, that he could use to throw at the Blood. He happened upon a few cases of DVDs that had been left behind, such titles as “Space Conflict, Unrated Bootleg European Directors Cut”, “Jogging Man”, and “Indianapolis John and the Children's Crusade”.

Yeesh, no wonder this place went out of business. Tim grimaced at the thought of watching these B-list movie titles. He then remembered rule number six: Hit the eyes and run. He took the DVDs from their cases and frantically flung a few at his intended target, the first one missed, causing Wazp to become momentarily distracted. Once Tim had a proper line of sight, he adjusted his angle accordingly. He then hurled the second disk precisely, a linear path right into one of Wazp’s eyes. The Blood let out a shriek of pain that was almost alien-like as he thrashed about in mid-air, crashing into one of the store's walls. 

Tim took this opportunity to make his escape while Wazp was incapacitated. With the thought of his coworker’s well-being at stake, otherwise he would have finished off Wazp then and there.

As Wazp came out of unconsciousness and eased into the waking world of body aches and migraines, he spotted a poster that had been lacerated in the course of his crash landing. A flicker of recognition played across his face. A dull memory from the past burst towards the surface of his memory. In his youth, he had loved human things: science fiction, pop culture - it did not matter. His father, though, had discovered a poster hung in his room and trashed it in a fit of rage.

Having made his way out of the store, Tim ran towards the alley where Haley and Rodney were still pinned down; it would take at least five minutes to reach them. As Tim ran, he kept checking behind him in the hopes that Wazp was not on his tail. He finally made it back to their location, short of breath.

“How… are you… holding up?” Tim asked Jenkins between haggard breaths. He asked the question, though he was already well aware of the answer.