She-Wolf and Lady NightRaven fled into the night, sneakers and boots pounding against the concrete. After crossing multiple streets, the werewolf and vampire stopped on the street, huffing and panting as they stopped to catch their breath.

“I want to transform,” She-Wolf said, “Augh, my legs ache so much. Running is never tiring as a werewolf!”

“I think my heart is beating,” Lady NightRaven said, “It doesn’t feel good. Here, you should be able to transform down there.”

She-Wolf’s body contorted, her bones audibly snapping as fur started to coat her. She-Wolf took deep breaths, her teeth clenched in focus. Her hair grew longer, splitting at the top as two ears formed.

“You have four ears?” Lady NightRaven noted.

“Do you not?” She-Wolf replied, her voice dropping an octave.

“Well boys,” the man said, leading two other down the alley, “Look what we have here!”

Lady NightRaven snapped towards the men. They carried crude clubs, tire irons and bats, wore plain clothes, and all three of them had bloodshot eyes.

“I’m not someone you want to be messing with,” Lady NightRaven hissed.

“Ah, but it looks like your friend is,” one of the men said, “Just look at her!”

She-Wolf was doubled over, her knees dragging themselves up her legs with her ankles stretching themselves out. Her back was twisted, new vertebrae growing and forcing themselves into place, as she grew from a small slip of a girl into a mighty werewolf.

“You think I can’t take three goons?” the vampire asked.

Gun metal glinted in the night air as one of the men drew a pistol. She-Wolf caught the glint and dove for cover, sprawling to the ground on awkward, misshapen limbs. Lady NightRaven sprinted forward, letting her body turn to fog as bullets cracked by her. She-Wolf yelped in pain as one of the bullets grazed her.

“I’m mortal!” She-Wolf yelped, “Still human!”

Lady NightRaven caught a punch in her open palm, clenching fingers and twisting the arm. The man flexed hard, his arm visibly swelling with strength as he pushed the vampire back. Another man pressed his gun against Lady NightRaven’s face, blasting chunks off her face with each pull of the trigger. The vampire shifted into fog, letting one man stagger past her as she reformed with a hand around the gun. Her headbutt smashed the man’s nose, following up with a swift low kick to his knee. The man yelped as bones popped out of sockets and the vampire snapped up his gun arm, smashing his wrist between her elbow and knee.

She-Wolf growled and swung a half formed claw as one of the men rushed past her friend, tire iron in hand. Misshapen knees buckled as She-Wolf tried to stand, watching in disbelief as the brass cultist raised the club.

“It can’t be,” She-Wolf whispered, the cultist briefly pausing as she rolled her eyes.

The man swung, and a thick cord flew through the air, wrapping around the man’s neck and snapping shut like a collar. Electric shocks coursed through the man, his eyes narrowing to pin pricks as he fought through the tazing.

“Looks like it’s time for me to draw some aggro!” a nasally, cracking voice declared from the rooftops.

“Oh no,” Lady NightRaven groaned.

The voice belonged to a young hero by the name of Gamer Man, clad in a sleek suit of power armor done up in baby blue with neon yellow highlights. Nobody knew where Gamer Man came from, if he bought or built all of his gear, or why he was a superhero to begin with.

What people did know about Gamer Man was that his favorite video game was, currently, Masters of the Blade, an MMO that he invited people to so often that the company making the game eventually started sponsoring him. People knew that Gamer Man had picked up a lot of “gamer” lingo, and that Gamer Man had never learned to drop it.

“Let’s teamfight!” Gamer Man squawked, diving from the rooftops. The cultists watched Gamer Man in confusion, until Gamer Man fired a grappling hook. The grappling hook quickly turned Gamer Man’s dive into a swing, slamming feet first into one of the cultists. Gamer Man readied an electrified baton, driving it into the cultist as he fought to rise. Compared to Gamer Man, the cultist was a tower of muscle and power, steely hands working through the shocks and reaching for Gamer Man’s neck. Gamer Man backed off, tripping the cultist as he tried to rise before cuffing his left arm to his right leg.

The last cultist tried to run for it and Lady NightRaven chased him down, her arms moving to her back and turning into dark, leathery bat wings. Gamer Man checked on She-Wolf, seeing if she needed first aid.

“Please, do not look at me,” She-Wolf groaned, “I don’t want you to see my human face.”

“Trying to keep your alt account a secret?” Gamer Man said, “Don’t worry, I’m not about to report you.”

“Right,” She-Wolf muttered, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on patrol, grinding mobs, questing while afk,” Gamer Man said, “You know, being a superhero.”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the help,” She-Wolf said, “But I’m working on something big. I don’t think you should get involved.”

“Why not?” Gamer Man asked.

“Because you’re you,” Lady NightRaven said, drifting in as a fog cloud, “She-Wolf, you want to call this in?”

“Given who’s after us, no,” She-Wolf said, “I don’t think they’ll be missed.”

“Look, I get it,” Gamer Man said, “You’re Horde and I’m Alliance-”

“What?” the vampire asked.

“But really, we’re all in the same guild,” Gamer Man continued, “Who’s after you, anyway.”

“We should tell him,” Lady NightRaven said.

“Alright, it’s Gorestrike,” She-Wolf said, “He’s got a team now, I think. They brought down two Brass Champions at once.”

“That’s a serious pull,” Gamer Man muttered.

“Sure,” She-Wolf said, “One of Gorestrike’s new friends is with the Wizard’s Guild, I think. Listen, this is important. Don’t go North towards Howard and 42nd. You’ll die.”

“Please,” Gamer Man said, “Death is just a number reaching zero, but my score only goes up!”

“Confidence is great, but-” Lady NightRaven muttered before blinking in confusion, “Wait, what did you say?”

“Look, we have an important investigation to handle,” She-Wolf said, “You go do whatever.”

Gamer Man swung back up to the rooftops, making his way towards Howard and 42nd. Gamer man leapt from rooftop to rooftop, using his grapple gun to cross intersections. He shortly came across Gorestrike, standing by the roadside with a gauntleted hand on the chin of his helmet. Gamer Man quietly watched him from the roof, but Gorestrike didn’t seem to be doing anything. Gravel skidded across Gamer Man’s boot as he backed away, and Gorestrike snapped towards him.

“You there!” Gorestrike called, “Show yourself!”

“Uh, hey. Yo,” Gamer Man said, peering down from the roof, “You wanna fight?”

“Fight you?” Gorestrike inquired, “Certainly not! I seek like minded brethren to form a band of true warriors.”

“And you want me to join?” Gamer Man asked.

“No,” Gorestrike declared, “I have no quarrel with you. Leave me be.”

“If you don’t mind, I heard there was a wizard in the area,” Gamer Man said, “I was hoping to meet him.”

“Ah, yes,” Gorestrike called, “Quite the elucidating fellow, I must say. A keen intellect.”

“I just hope he didn’t dumpstat wisdom,” Gamer Man muttered.

“I met him and his fellows just down the alley,” Gorestrike continued, “Though, I fear I have brought shame upon myself. They were mighty warriors and serviceable companions, yet I did the truly barbaric thing and didn’t even learn their names. Our world is a wide one, full of nooks and crannies. I fear our paths shall not cross again.”

“Alright, well,” Gamer Man said, “I’m going to go look for them.”

“Farewell,” Gorestrike declared, waving Gamer Man away.

With Gorestrike’s directions, it really wasn’t hard to find his friends, Gamer Man realized. In fact, all Gamer Man had to do was follow the smell of week old gym stank mixed with moldy carcass. The downside was that Gamer Man had to follow the smell of week old gym stank mixed with moldy carcass. What Gamer Man found at the end of the trail was both surprising and exactly what he expected.

A Champion of Brass lay dead on the street, his head smashed like a grape, while two people shoveled what looked like ashes and charred meat into leather bags and a third was carving of the dead champion.

“Hey,” the barbarian said, pointing towards Gamer Man, “There’s some guy over there.”

“So?” the wizard asked, shovelling ashes into the bottomless bag.

“So, we should probably do something about it,” the barbarian said, “Bard, you want to go talk to him?”

“Ehh,” the bard said, shovelling ashes with the wizard.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the wizard asked, “You’ve been screaming at us about how you want to be able to be a bard since we got here. Talk to him.”

“Alright, alright,” the bard said, turning to look up at Gamer Man, “Hey! You! Get down here.”

Gamer Man swooped down to talk with the bard, and realized something. The bard was the most attractive woman he had ever seen. He’d need a measuring tape to be sure, but he thought she had a better figure than his Faerie Fire body pillow, and Gamer Man knew that the pillow was exaggerated.

Gamer Man tried to speak, but found that his mouth was filled with drool as his whole face turned red.

“What are you doing here?” the bard asked.

“I’m,” Gamer Man swallowed hard, “I’m a hero on patrol. I heard there were dangerous people over here.”

“Where?” the bard asked.

“It was probably him,” Gamer Man said, pointing to the dead Brass Champion, “Barbarian guy, what are you doing to him, anyway?”

“Carving him up so he’ll fit into the bottomless bag better,” the barbarian explained, “He can regenerate, so we need to fully destroy his corpse. Don’t worry, we do this a lot.”

“Anyway, you’re an artificer, aren’t you?” the wizard asked.

“Huh? Well, I did build all my gear,” Gamer Man said.

“Well, you sound like the kind of person we’d like to have around,” the bard said, “I need new armor.”

“You just got new armor,” the barbarian said.

“This isn’t armor, this is a frame,” the bard said, “It doesn’t provide any damage reduction. What he’s wearing is armor.”

“Why not just make your body immune to damage?” the barbarian asked.

“When would I have the time for that?” the bard demanded.

“I don’t know, but I did,” the barbarian said, “And now I stride shirtless into the future. Look artificer, if you become immune to harm, you could be shirtless forever. Bard, so could you, if you cared.”

Gamer Man let out a choked cough.

“Enough!” the bard barked, “Look, artificer, are you going to join us or not?”

“I don’t want to cause you trouble,” Gamer Man said, “And I think you’re out of my league.”

“You mean romantically, don’t you?” the bard guessed.

“Yeah,” Gamer Man said.

“Ugh, I’ve never been good at this stuff,” the bard said with a huff, “Do you know what league I’m in?”

“The top one percent of the top one percent?” Gamer Man asked.

“No,” the bard said, “The kind of men I’m interested in are hard working, righteous heroes who never hesitate when it comes to helping others. Are you one of those?”

“Y-yes!” Gamer Man said.

“Then help us out,” the bard said, “There’s evil all over the place. We’re going to go kill it with swords and axes.”