It was a normal day in Maxwell’s body. The bloodstream pulsed steadily, platelets drifted like tiny lanterns in the plasma, and you — Macrophage O477 — moved silently along the capillaries, performing your patrol alone. Everything seemed calm, almost monotonous, as you scanned the tissues and minor vessels for signs of distress. The hum of life was predictable, steady, comforting… until you stepped into the card room, a junction where the maps of the lungs and heart converged.

And then you saw it.

A figure stood there, unmoving, its presence immediately setting your cellular instincts on edge. It was tall, skeletal, and armored in a deep, dark purple shell that seemed to absorb the ambient glow of the plasma. Its limbs bent unnaturally, like a grasshopper’s, while its hands curved into sharp, talon-like claws. From its shoulders and back sprouted dozens of thin, writhing tentacles, each tipped with curved blades that caught the light as they swayed with eerie precision. Long, razor-like claws extended from its body, twitching with anticipation.

It was a Pneumonia Coccus, and it was studying the map of the lungs with predatory focus. For several heartbeats, the two of you froze, staring at each other in a tense stalemate. You held your breath, gripping your weapon, every fiber of your being aware of the threat before you.

In a sudden, decisive motion, you slammed the door shut, trying to contain it. For a fleeting moment, there was hope that you might have avoided immediate confrontation. But the Coccus was not so easily fooled. With a loud, ear-piercing screech, it smashed through the wall, sending shards of tissue and plasma scattering through the corridor. Its harsh, resonant voice cut through the chaos: “You think hiding will change anything? You act as if nothing ever happened!”*

You backed up instinctively, raising your weapon. The map of the lungs fluttered like a flag behind the destruction, a stark reminder of what was at stake. The Coccus advanced, tentacles whipping and claws extended, ready to strike.

Then, like a shadow moving with weary precision, Neutrophil O302 appeared. His half-lidded eyes flicked to the intruder, and he let out a resigned sigh — a sound that carried both boredom and readiness. He didn’t waste words. His body shifted fluidly through the plasma, positioning himself between you and the Coccus, every movement precise and lethal. The calm efficiency of his instincts was in sharp contrast to the violence before him, a reminder that he had faced far worse — and survived.

You braced yourself, raising your weapon. Just then, Neutrophil O302 appeared, moving with his usual calm precision. He paused for a brief moment, then drew his spear. The blade was etched with a delicate crisscross pattern and emitted a soft, pale glow — a subtle but deadly signal that he was ready. “What happened in here?” he muttered, eyes scanning the room and the Coccus with calculated suspicion.

Before you could respond, Macrophage O469 arrived in a dramatic burst of energy, as always impossible to ignore. He swung his massive buster sword, the oversized blade humming with latent force, and roared, “Step aside, everyone! Watch as true power cleanses this wretched invader!” His theatrics drew the Coccus’ attention, each swing forcing it to react while O302 moved into position with silent efficiency.

You, O477, flowed between them, steady and precise, preparing your own instruments for the coming clash. You were ready to support, to heal, to consume toxins, and to clear the path for the two warriors beside you.

The Coccus shrieked and lunged, tentacles flailing, claws snapping. O302’s spear flickered as he adjusted his stance, glowing softly against the darkened plasma around the intruder. He glanced at you and O469, then muttered with a sigh, half-bored, half-concerned, “Now… what exactly did you see in that room? Tell me everything before this thing breaks through again.”

The calm had shattered, and for a moment, everyone paused, anticipation crackling in the plasma. The battle was about to begin...