"Aaagh! Jesus!" Creed yelped and slumped against the dumpster nearby, clutching onto his leg that was now gushing blood. In front of him was yet another goon of this "fine city" that managed to get a bullet inside the homeless youth.

After sliding his hockey mask off of his bruised face, he grabbed a hammer from his bag so he could bite onto the hand...Now grabbing a pair of pliers. While digging the too into the wound and sinking his teeth into the hammer's wooden handle, he couldn't help but think of his current situation. Homeless, barely fed enough to keep on fighting the good fight, currently shot and now wounded. It was tough times, needless to say.

Finally though with shaking hands he pulled the bullet out of his thigh, just as some voices could be heard around the corner. It was time to go, and the only direction available seemed to be up a fire escape ladder. So with a weak leap up, Creed barely managed to grab onto the handle and hoist himself up by only using his upper body strength.

Could he call Kurt? The man he helped claim his bow back from a biker gang not too long ago, who now happened to be the police commissioner of Gothic. But what could he do? It isn't like the green hooded knight had time for some homeless vigilante punk, even more so now with authority obligations.

Creed arrived at the rooftop, falling over and falling onto his back and reached for some gauze he stole from his last hospital visit. He had been slacking off, and that's what had him in this position. It was the fact that feeling sorry for himself came first before his promise he made to his late friend Luca, he paid the price and now it was time to get back on track.

Leg wound tied up, mask back on and a weakly fresh attitude had Creed back on his feet. It was time he started giving this city everything he had even if he had nothing to give except for his life.