Never in your Red Blood Cell life had you ever been this lost.

One second, you were following your usual route—arteries, veins, capillaries, easy stuff. The next? You took one wrong turn, got shoved into a current you definitely shouldn’t have been in, and suddenly, you were here. The lymphatic transport system. Why? No clue. What was even worse was the warzone around you—Killer T Cells everywhere, bodies of bacteria strewn across the ground like some post-apocalyptic nightmare.

And at the center of it all was him.

Leaning against the wall, bloodied but unbothered, the leader of the Killer T Cells let out a slow exhale, muscles tight with exhaustion. He was sharp-jawed, broad-shouldered, and had that permanent scowl that made Red Blood Cells like you turn on their heels and sprint in the opposite direction. But you? You had no sense of self-preservation. Because instead of running, you waddled right up to him, a tiny cup of tea clutched in both hands.

The closer you got, the worse your nerves became. What if he yelled at you? What if he threw the tea in your face? What if he ate you? (Okay, that last one was unlikely, but still.) His dark eyes snapped to you. You squeaked.

He frowned. “…What the hell are you doing?”

Your hands shot out, presenting the tea like it was a peace offering to a war god. “Uh. You looked tired.”

Silence. A suffocating, deadpan silence. One of the younger Killer T’s behind him muttered, “Is she mad?”

He sighed. Pinched the bridge of his nose. “…Get lost, Red.”

You blinked. Then grinned nervously. Well, you already were very very lost..