The body of a short man laid on his side against the wooden foyer floor. His baggy brown hoodie was stained with blood around the right side of his chest and his left hand was tightly gripping the index finger of his right hand in some sort of hand sign.

“Wait a minute.” Louise’s nose twitched as she sniffed the air. “I recognise this scent! And that ugly arse hoodie!”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be judging fashion,” said Enid, casting a sideways glance at Louise’s gaudy yellow sleeveless hoodie.

“Fuck you, I look good in yellow.” Louise stepped into the foyer and used the claws of her wolven feet to tip the body onto its back.

His face was half-covered by his hood, but Valen still recognised him by his dainty jawline and small build.

“That’s the bloke who shot Clarence.” Valen stepped into the manor and Enid followed suit, closing the door behind them.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Enid asked.

“Sent to kill us maybe?” Valen crouched down to examine the body. “But what could’ve done this to him?”

Louise loudly sniffed the air.

“Whatever it is, it’s no longer here,” she said. “I can’t smell anyone other than us here.”

Valen pressed two naked fingers against the neck of the assassin and his eyes widened in shock. “Wait, he’s still alive!”

It was faint, but he could feel a pulse running through the man’s carotid artery at slow, steady intervals. He allowed his hearing to sharpen but detected no one else in the manor. Only the dying man’s quickly dwindling heartbeat and low, wheezing breaths that sounded like a bleating goat.

“Don’t worry.” Louise flicked her knife into a reverse grip. “I can fix that.”

Valen grimaced at her.

“Louise, we are not murdering this man when he’s already dying.”

“Well we can’t call the ambulance either,” said Enid. “It’ll tell the media frenzy and Primordial Church exactly where we are.”

Louise gave Valen a deep frown. “...You’re still going to try to save him, aren’t you?”

“Glad you’re up to speed.” Valen scooped the man up in his arms, his meagre weight proving no trouble for his toned arms to carry. “Where’s the dining room?”

“Just follow me.” Enid, knowing better than to argue at this point, led the way into the manor. “But keep an eye out for any other unwanted visitors, just in case.”

“Ugh.” Louise sheathed her knife and locked the front door behind her. “Fine. But I hope you don’t regret this.”

“I’ll regret it more if I don’t do anything.” Valen followed Enid into the lavish dining hall, where a long oaken table lay surrounded by comfy white velvet chairs under a golden chandelier.

There was a decorative vase full of white roses on the table which Enid moved elsewhere so that Valen could lay the man down on the table.

Louise leaned on a wall in the corner, her eyes darting between the only entrances to the dining room.

“Gonna cut this one’s throat too?” she asked without bothering to look at the dining turned operating table.

“First I have to find out what’s wrong with him.” With some effort, Valen pried the man’s hands apart and laid them flat against the table surface. “Alright, let’s see.”

Valen drew down the injured assassin’s hood to check the face and head.

Enid narrowed her eyes. “Is that a bloke or a lady?”

The assassin’s face was androgynous and almost aggressively generic. Their slender nose and pointy chin made them look femenine, but their slightly sharp cheekbones and pointy chin gave their face a masculine edge. The messy medium-length black hair that could fit either gender depending on how it was styled didn’t make it any less confusing either.

“I’m…not sure.” Valen shook his head. Proprietary didn’t matter when a life was on the line. “Whatever, that doesn’t matter right now. Louise, can you find me some scissors in case I need to cut up their shirt?”

“Hmph.” Louise stopped leaning on the wall and headed towards the kitchen. “This better not just be an excuse to see some tits!”

“I assure you it’s not.” Valen unzipped the assassin’s brown hoodie, which opened up to reveal a plain black T-shirt and small velcro pouch strapped to the belt full of tiny crossbow bolts.

“Careful with those,” said Enid. “Those might be poisoned too.”

“Right.” Valen carefully unbuckled the assassin’s ammunition pouch and set it down on the far end of the dining table. “Time to find out what’s wrong with this…person.”

Louise re-entered the room with a pair of kitchen scissors.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, handing Valen the scissors by the handle.

“Me too.”

Valen slit the assassin’s plain T-shirt up the middle to reveal slender brown spider legs wrapped around their pale chest like an external set of crude ribs.

“So they were a were-spider after all,” said Louise. “I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

“Pretty sure there’s another name for it.” Valen pried the spider legs off the assassin’s chest so that he could get a better look at what caused the bloodstain on their hoodie.

“Huh.” Louise narrowed her eyes at the person’s slender chest. “No bra. A dude then?”

“I don’t know.” Enid scratched the back of her head. “A flat girl can go without a bra, right?”

“...Thunder Tits, you really aren't any position to talk about that topic.”

“Not enough time to check.” Valen’s hands hovered over the assassin’s body while his eyes studied them for injuries, finally settling on something sticking out from the lower right side of their chest. “There’s our problem.”

Valen pointed at a slightly curved white spike that was lodged in between the ribs. Congealed blood caked the sides of the wound but there was no bleeding to be seen, most likely due to their healing factor regenerating the flesh around it.

“Is that a severed tooth in their side?” Louise’s face scrunched up in disgust. “How the hell did that get there?”

“Questions for later.” Valen paused to rack his mind for a solution. The sound of their breath was fading fast and would soon stop if he didn’t come up with something quickly.

“Are you going to take the tooth out of them?” Enid asked, bringing Valen back out of his thoughts.

“No, it’s not that important and they might bleed out if I do.” 

As is the case for most races with a healing factor, flesh easily regenerated itself, bones took longer to mend, and vital organs were extremely difficult to heal without medical attention. Had it just been a flesh wound they would still be fine, but the ailment killing this person laid far deeper than that.

“Alright,” said Valen, nodding to himself. “I think I know what to do.”

“What do you need?” asked Enid.

“Two bottles of high proof alcohol, a roll of strong tape, and a length of flexible vinyl tubes about a centimetre wide.”

Enid and Louise shared an incredulous glance at each other.

“Why?” They asked in unison.

“I’ll explain it once I have it, now hurry!” Valen turned back to the person unfortunate enough to be his patient, cringing at the thought of what he’d have to do. “I’m going to have to do something real gross.”

“I’ll get the alcohol then!” Louise darted out of the dining room. “I remember passing the vintage cabinet the last time I was here.”

“And I’ll get the tape and tubes,” said Enid before following Louise out the room. “It’s a good thing I had my alchemy equipment delivered here beforehand.”

Left alone in the dining room with a dying assassin he was trying to save, Valen took a deep breath to steady his shaking hands and went over the details of his admittedly amateur diagnosis inside his head.

The fang was lodged in the lower right side of the chest, far enough away from his heart to not have to worry about it. Breathing was little more than barely audible wheezes at this point. It probably wouldn’t even be detectable without hypersensitive hearing.

If Valen had to venture a guess, and he pretty much had to now, he would say that the assassin was suffering from a tension pneumothorax due to a lung laceration. The tooth must’ve been long enough to pierce into their flesh and thin enough to slip between their ribs to puncture the lungs and deflate it like a popped balloon.

With the lung deflated, any air they breathed would escape the lung into the pleural space surrounding it without being able to return in a constant state of inhalation. Each breath allowed more air to accumulate inside the pleural space, giving the lung less room to inflate and building tremendous pressure inside their chest until a complete cardiovascular collapse ensues, which in turn would lead to a lethal cardiac arrest that no amount of CPR or defibrillation could revive them from.

Louise was the first to return with a bottle of whiskey by the neck in each hand.

“Will these do?” she asked, though she sounded hesitant for some reason. “They’re the first ones I grabbed.”

“Yes, they’re perfect!” Valen went over to her and grabbed the whiskey bottles by their body only for Louise to resist him when he tried to pull them away from her. “Huh? Is something wrong?”

“See, I only saw the label when I was already halfway here,” said Louise sheepishly. “They’re really nice vintages! Can I go back to find something a little more shitty to go to waste?”

“Louise, you just said you wanted to quit drinking,” said Valen, recalling the reaction she had when she found out she’d been stalked while drunk.

“Well, I could use these for my last drink!” Louise insisted. “Look, it’ll just be a quick run. I’ll be right-”

She was cut off when Valen bent down to her level and planted a kiss on the top of her head. He tried for her lip but didn’t want to bend that far.

Her hair smelt nice. A bit sweaty, but the lingering smell of the floral shampoo she used while in Enid’s penthouse helped drown it out.

Louise loosened her grip on the whiskey bottlenecks in surprise and Valen took the opportunity to yank it away from her hands.

“Thanks Lou!” he said, making his way back to the dining room table where the unconscious assassin lay.

Louise blinked. Her stunned white face flushed red and she crossed her arms in indignation.

“You’re so fucking lucky I love you,” she muttered under her breath.

If Valen heard her, he didn’t show it, his attention fixed on the injured assassin.

He set one bottle on the table and uncapped the other one. He poured its contents over the person’s bare chest and set it aside. Then, he took the other bottle and realised he forgot something.

“Oh, crap, I forgot I lost my gloves.”

“I’ll fetch you a pair from the kitchen.” Louise sprinted out of the dining room, passing Enid just as she was returning with the stuff Valen requested.

Enid set it all on the table, a length of clear vinyl tubing meant for alchemy experiments and a roll of black duct tape. “Still not sure what you intend to do with all this.”

“Their lungs collapsed.” Valen took out his butterfly knife and flicked it open. “The air that’s supposed to go inside their lungs is currently filling up the cavity where his expanded lung should be. I need to let the air out before their chest bursts from the inside out.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I need to perform a tube thoracostomy on him.” Valen scanned the assassin’s whiskey-soaked body over. “I have to make an incision over a rib somewhere between the mid to anterior axillary line and insert a tube inside it.”

Enid stared at him like he had two heads.

“What?”

“His chest is a balloon that’s constantly filling with air. I need to let some air out before it pops.”

Louise returned to the dining room with a pair of yellow kitchen gloves. 

“Got your gloves,” she said, handing them to Valen with a peck on the cheek that made Enid frown even deeper than usual.

“Thanks.”

Valen ignored the kiss and immediately donned the kitchen gloves, both eyes fixed on the assassin’s body.

He took the full whiskey bottle and poured two thirds of its contents over his gloves and butterfly knife to sterilise it. Then, he used the butterfly knife to unevenly cut the vinyl tubing in half.

He slid both tubes, one short and one long, into the mouth of the partially empty bottle. The longer tube he positioned deep enough to touch the whiskey inside while the other end jutted out of the bottle. The shorter one he held in place, dangling in the empty space near the mouth of the bottle. 

With some effort, he scratched open the duct tape through his gloves and wrapped it around the mouth of the bottle’s mouth to hold the tubes in place.

“Can one of you scratch the duct tape open for me?” Valen asked.

“I got it.” Enid quickly scratched the duct tape open with her dainty nails and handed him the open roll.

“Thanks.”

Valen wrapped the duct tape around the bottle’s mouth, fixing the tubes in place and making sure that it was airtight save for the protruding vinyl tubes.

“I still don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” said Louise.

“Well, hopefully I do.” Valen held his butterfly knife in his right hand while he ran his left hand prodded the assassin’s ribs. It was a good thing they were so skinny. Being able to see their ribs through their skin made it easier to figure out where to cut. “Here goes nothing I guess.”

Moving the right arm out of the way, Valen made an incision two ribs down from and in line with the assassin’s armpit. The sharp blade of his butterfly knife sliced cleanly through the skin and flesh while only slightly grazing the rib underneath. 

Red blood stained his yellow gloves. It still smelled delicious, but the intrusive thoughts he’d usually have telling him to drink the blood weren't as loud as they used to be thanks to having recently fed on Enid. It gave him the focus he desperately needed for what would be his most reckless attempt at playing doctor yet.

The procedure was extremely risky for an amateur whose medical knowledge came only from reading, lectures, and some first-aid classes with hands-on learning that only went so far. Until recently he’d only ever held a knife in the context of martial arts sparring.

Had the person been a human or mage he wouldn’t even dream of attempting such an invasive treatment. But with no time to lose and them being a were-spider thing that had at least some level of a healing factor, Valen was given a much wider margin of error when it came to treating them.

After making the incision, Valen set down his knife and grabbed the whiskey bottle. He carefully inserted the longer vinyl tube sticking out of the bottle into the incision before their healing factor could heal it shut. The mouth of the tube slipped through the intercostal space between his ribs and into the air-filled pleural space inside the chest.

Air immediately started flowing from inside the assassin’s chest through the long tube and into the bottled whiskey. Bubbles of air blew from the tube and rose to the surface of the whiskey. Once the air bubbles popped, they were promptly sucked out by the shorter tube.

With all that done, Valen set the bottle down on the table and waited with bated breath to see if his procedure worked or not.

Louise stared blankly at the scene in confusion. “I still don’t get it.”

“I think I do,” said Enid. “The air inside goes through the tube into the bottle. The whiskey on the other end keeps more air from coming in while the other tube lets that same air out of the bottle. Like a one-way valve.”

“Ah, of course,” said Louise, pretending to understand. “That explains every-”

A loud gasp cut her off before she could finish.

The assassin’s pale chest started rising and falling again now that their collapsed lung had more space to breath, albeit labouredly. They were still unconscious, with both eyes shut tight and head tilted to one side.

“Holy shit it actually worked.” Valen let out his own sigh of relief. “Gods that was such a stupid thing to do.”

Enid silently put a hand on his shoulder.

Louise gave him a hard slap on the back.

“Not stupid for the reason you think,” she said plainly. “Is this scumbag assassin really worth all this trouble?”

“I have to agree with Snowball on this one,” said Enid. “He’s a killer for the Primordial Church. Why’d you want to save him?”

“You answered your own question,” said Valen. “Remember what Colton said?”

“That we should lie low for now?” said Enid.

“That we need to beat up drug dealers?” said Louise.

“No, the other thing.” Valen pulled the yellow kitchen gloves off his hands and set it down on the whiskey-soaked table. “That in business and war, knowledge and connections are worth their weight in gold.”

“Okay?” Louise shrugged. “And?”

“This person has firsthand experience working for the Primordial Church,” said Valen. “The information they have on how the organisation works could prove vital to fighting it.”

“So they’re our prisoner?” Enid asked.

“I suppose you can say that. We can interrogate them all we want once they wake up.”

“What makes you think they’ll rat the Primordial Church out?” asked Louise. “Most of their members are either brainwashed or have the Unborn God in their head, right?”

“We’ll just have to hope that they’re neither of those things,” said Valen. “But since their injury was caused by a giant tooth and the Primordial Church seems to have a thing for manipulating flesh and bone, I’m willing to guess that they got injured fighting them. Maybe they came to their senses, tried to leave, and got hurt because of it.”

“Something’s still bothering me though,” said Enid. “Why did they come here of all places? And how do they even know what this place is?”

“Questions for when they wake up.” Valen grabbed the roll of duct tape and stretched out a long strip. “Can you two lift their legs for me? I’m going to tape them together so they can’t make a run for it once they wake up.”

“Right.” Enid grabbed the assassin’s right leg by the ankle. “I’ll lift this leg, Snowball you do the other one.”

“Sure, sure.” Louise scurried to the other side of the table and grabbed their other ankle.

Both women lifted both legs up in unison and the sound of screeching tape filled the dining room as Valen wrapped the assassin’s legs tightly together, cargo trousers and all.

“Should we tie up their hands too?” asked Enid.

Valen looked at the assassin’s rising and falling upper body. Their right arm was raised above their head, and would have to remain that way as long as the tube was inside their body.

“We’ll have to tie it over their head.” Valen cut the tape roll from the strip binding the assassin’s legs. “I’ll handle it.”

He reached over the table to grab the unconscious assassin’s left arm. The moment his bare hand touched their wrist, a hand shot up from under him and grabbed him by the collar.