TW: Sort of a rape mention, but no rape occurs

  The hand tugs hard, and I nearly lose my bance, but mao stay on my feet somehow. I turn to face the man attached to it. He’s big. And, based orong smell of alcohol ing from him, pretty drunk. I go to tug my arm away gently, but he holds fast. I’m not going to be intimidated yet, though.

  “Do you need anything, Mister…?”

  He ignores my request for his name.

  “You look lost, little mouse,” he says in a deep voice.

  What’s with the “little mouse” thing? Every damn time someone wants to be a creep, that’s what they call me. Is it a cultural trend? Is that what Sungians call all mammalian races? The ck inality amongst creeps is invariably disappointing.

  “I’m not lost,” I say, “I’m meeting my friends at this benbsp; They’ll be here any minute.”

  He gives me a siing grin. “Will they now? That’s too bad. They’ll be disappointed when they ’t find you here. You’ll be ing with me instead.”

  He tugs on my arm again and starts pulling me away from the bench, stig close to the wall.

  My mind kicks into overdrive. Okay. I know I won’t be able to get away from him right now. He’s expeg me to put up a fight, so he’ll be prepared for it. If I try tle now, all that will do is give him information on the amount of forecessary to restrain me. Not struggling might raise some red fgs, though, so I put only a fra of my strength into getting away, making sure not to tip my hand. If he uimates me, it will be easier to find a window of escape. And I know enough about the superiority plexes of Sungian creeps to know that he will definitely uimate me.

  He’s big, and he’s drunk, which means he’ll likely be slower than me and definitely more clumsy. The arm he has a hold on now is on the same side of my body that my knife is on, so it will be hard to draw it right now. If I try, he would probably notid put me in a more troubling hold. Best to let him lead me wherever he’s going. I know better than to shout for help, too. In a crowd this size, it would just be drowned out immediately and have no other effect than to agitate this man more. There’s a eone would hear and e to my rescue, but that ce is very small.

  There’s ohing that really worries me, and that is the fact that he has cws, and I don’t. This puts me at a signifit disadvantage. The likelihood of me getting out of this situation unharmed is slim to none. If I’m careful about how I take him on, I hopefully mao mitigate some of the damage. I’m praying I get out of this with only a few scratches.

  He leads me along the side of the room, behind vendors and stacks of crates, stig to the shadows. I’m sad to notice that the dire he’s taking me in is opposite to the way back to Khysmet’s private box. That’s sub-optimal.

  I’m extra sad when he pulls me into what I’m sure is our destination – an opening along the wall leading into a hallway, modestly sized, but not too narrow to move around – and there are two other men waiting for us.

  That plicates things.

  At least I tell from the way they're swaying on their feet that they’re both drunk, too, more so even than my captor. I’m not super jazzed that it’s three on one now, but being pletely sober tips the scale somewhat in my favor.

  “Look what I found,” creep number one says, dragging my arm so that I’m in front of him and ging holds so that he’s got his arm around my throat.

  The moron is leaving my right arm, my knife arm, totally free. I whimper pitifully and use it to feebly grab at his arm as though trying to prise it away from my neck, pretending that an effort in futility is the only thing I’m going to attempt with it. He doesn’t bother to restrain me further.

  “A human?” asks creep wo. “Where did you find one of those?”

  Creep One chuckles. “She was just wandering around lost. I don’t know how she found her way here.”

  “Kinda cute,” says creep hree, “in that funny-looking way that humans have. Pretty dress.” He reaches down and tugs at my skirt. I hear fabric tear, caught on his cw.

  I whimper and kick out a little, hoping to deter him from pulling my dress up too far and revealing my knife.

  Creep Three pulls bad ughs. “Feisty little creature. Don’t be scared, little one, we’re not going to hurt you. Much.”

  Internally, I’m grinning. You think this is feisty? You haven’t seen anythi, pal.

  They start talking amongst themselves, discussing what to do with me. One of them rifles through the bag fastened around my waist, but there's nothing of any real value in it. I'm deemed "toe-looking" to fubsp; They seem to agree that I'm someone of sequence based on the way I'm dressed, but they don't really know what to do with that.

  Eventually, during their versation, when I feel that they've all gotten pt enough, I feel Creep One's hold loosen on me slightly and take the opportunity to strike.

  Quickly, praying Sungian physiology shares some of the same ots with humans, I jab my right arm back directly into where Creep One's sor plexus should be. Based on the choked groan and the way that he doubles over, I'd say I lucked out – serpent folk are vulnerable there, too.

  Then I stomp down hard onto his instep. Sungia are shaped a bit different, so I don't know if it will colpse his ar the same way it would for a human, but he's at least wearing sandals, so it should hurt anyway. When my foot es down hard, he certainly howls like it does.

  I'm not sure if Sungians have external genitals, so the usual groin punch might not be effective here. Instead, when I bring my leg up to step on his foot, I hike my skirt up, modesty be damake my k with my right hand, pnt my foot, and with a big wind-up swing of my arm, stab him right where I think his dick should be and twist.

  He folds like a cheap suit and crumples to the floor, screaming like a banshee. I step to the side to make sure he doesn’t knock me off ban his way down.

  Creep Three recovers from shock first and lunges for me, telegraphing his moves with a degree of transparency that only alcohol engender. I sidestep easily and sweep his legs. He trips and falls face-first into the corridor wall. I’d love to make sure he doesn’t get up, but Creep Two es at me right after him, cws outstretched.

  I ’t react fast enough to sidestep his swipe. Instead I let him sink his cws into my shoulder, and when he pulls towards himself to plete his sshing motion, I go with it and use the momentum to plunge my kraight into his lower abdomen. With all my might, I slito his belly – straight across, turn, then upwards. His scales part like butter around the bde. Sungian skin might be thihan I anticipated, I think – at least on their stomachs anyway.

  His guts start spilling out of the incision. He falls forward onto me and I turn such that he slides off my bato the floor. I feel bad for Creep Two. It’ll be a slow, painful death.

  I turn back around to face the remaining Creep, adjusting my knife in my hand so I have a better grip and croug into a more stable ready stanbsp; He’s just now rec from falling into the wall. Blood drips down his snout from his nose and mouth. I hope his enter with the wall knocked some teeth loose.

  He looks at me with white he in his eyes, face a mask of hate.

  “You little BITCH!” he snarls, thes ready to e at me again.

  I lick my lips in anticipation. He’s drunk, in pain, and angry – the perfect cocktail for making incredibly obvious and stupid moves. He’s practically beggio take him down, and I’m happy to give into his demands.

  That’s when the cavalry arrives.

  Shadoear against the light ing from the corridor entranbsp; It’s a couple of castle guards, one of them being Omagh, who rushes forward and plunges his sword straight through Creep Three, then pulls it back out and knocks the quickly dying man off his feet.

  And just like that, it’s over. I stand down, chest heaving and body shaking as I begin to e down from my adrenaline spike. I look down at my handiwork, one man curled into a ball mewling pitifully and clutg his groin, and another in the process of dying, trying to push his iines bato his body. Some strange, bloodthirsty part of me is disappoihat the third kill was stolen from me. I think that’s the adrenalialking.

  Omagh starts walking toward me, asking if I’m okay, but before he reach me, Khysmet pushes him aside brusquely and strides past him. He steps over bodies like they're not even there and es right up in front of me, his motiid and jerky.

  I look up to meet his eyes. His face is white as a sheet, and it looks like he’s i pain, but other than that, I 't tell what he's thinking from his expression. Whehought Vespyn might have hurt me, he was clearly ed, but he's not speaking now. Is he mad?

  He gently stretches his hands out and pces them on my face, turning my head like he did before to check for injuries. Gradually, he repeats this motion over my whole body, iigating in particur everywhere he sees blood. There's a lot of blood. On the front of me, at least, most of it isn't my own, but I let him do his thing, figuring he needs it more than I do. I'm a little embarrassed whes down on his knees and examines my legs, partially lifting my skirt and running his hands up my legs in front of the guards that are still here waiting for instru. I still don't say anything though.

  Wheands up again and touches my shoulder to get me to turn around, he grazes the cw marks there, and I wind hiss air through my teeth. His already colorless face pales further still somehow and his body gid as a board. I turn to give him a better look. It doesn’t feel like a grievous wound or anything, but I’d still like for him to check it out and reassure me.

  That’s not what happens. He stares at the wounds on my bad says nothing, just breathes raggedly and touches me on my other shoulder, maybe to check for somewhere else he sees blood. I feel his hand shake against my skin. Maybe it looks really bad, and he's worried that I'm seriously hurt. I o reassure him that I'm okay.

  “Hey, it’s not as bad as it looks. I promise,” I say. I smile back over my wounded shoulder, wing a little. “You should see the uys.”

  He meets my eyes, but still doesn’t say anything, just looks from my face down to my shoulder and back a couple times, eyes filled with a desperate sadness ahat breaks my heart. Eventually he opens his mouth, but when he does, it’s not to talk to me.

  “Please take Miss Catarina back to the castle as soon as possible,” he says in a monotone voibsp; “Take her straight to a healer.”

  “Yes sir,” one of the guards says, and he es forward to take me by the arm and lead me out of the corridor.

  I turn my head to watch him on my way out, but he doesn’t look at me again. Instead, I see him take the sword out of Omagh’s hand and walk up to the man whose genitals I mutited. Right before I round the er, I see him raise it high, then I hear rather thahe schlick, schlick, schlietal cleaving flesh, over, and over, and ain as I am led out of the corridor and back to the castle.