"What's the problem? I'll take the three of you at once. Look ..." Both hands hanging down by his sides so he was left wide open, Pluto VIII lifted his chin to them as if begging them to punch it.
Howling curses, the two men in their thirties rushed him—one from the front, the other from behind. Trusting the abdominal muscles they'd hardened with a deep breath to protect them from any odd attack by Pluto VIII, the men had their arms spread wide to smash the little guy like a bug.