The New Adventurers and Gamer Man stalked down empty streets. Civilian evacuation had gone quickly, and when swarms of mutated monsters flooded out of Castle Gorestrike and into South King's Head even the most stubborn and prideful people started packing.

The bloated, grotesque monsters hadn’t proven too much of a challenge, but it still worried Gamer Man at how many bullets those things could take before finally dying. Gamer Man was working with the army, but was still worried about how many bullets they actually had.

Gamer Man was also worried that the New Adventurers reminded him of some very specific people, but that could wait.

"Contact ahead," Wytch whispered.

"Huh?" Gamer Man asked.

"Detection spells," Wytch explained.

"Form up by the corner," Gladiator ordered, "Wytch, can you put up a silence spell?"

"We should establish visual contact first," Gamer Man said, "No sense wasting spell slots until it's a fight we know we're taking."

"It's more of a pool," Wytch said.

"Oh," Gamer Man remarked, "Convenient. How fast does it refill?"

"Not very," Wytch said, "But I still have plenty of spells in me."

"Are we going to draw straws to see who scouts again?" Zealot asked.

"Sure," Gladiator said.

"But I always get the short straw," Gamer Man complained, drawing the short straw again.

"Welp, get to scouting then," Zealot said.

Gamer Man rolled his eyes and crouched low, peeking out from behind his corner.

“There’s five of them that I can see,” Gamer Man said calmly, “And they’re all looking at me. And I think they’re waving more over. I think we should-”

“I’m going in,” Zealot declared.

“Why?” Gamer Man demanded.

“You three have been picking off targets all day while I’ve had to wait for melee combat,” Zealot explained, “Now, there are too many for ranged combat, and all of them are alerted anyway. I want to fight.”

“We don’t know how many there are,” Gamer Man warned.

“Then blame the army for thinking I shouldn’t be given a gun,” Zealot said, readying her bardiche.

“You did say you wanted shotgun shells as long as the barrel,” Wytch said.

“Hey, are we doing this or not?” Gamer Man asked.

“Oh, we’re doing it,” Zealot said, stepping out onto the street.

There were twelve. If Zealot was one of the soldiers deployed to assist superheroes, or if she still had the mindset of Alice Courlan, Zealot would have been worried. Instead, Zealot readied her bardiche, grinned wickedly at the oncoming violence, and charged.

The beasts were awful looking things, having a slug-like lower body with small feet coming out of blobby flesh, two sets of arms, one overgrown with muscle and club shaped digits, one smaller with spindly hands for precision. They had too-big heads, wide mouths and tusks, and long floppy ears. Scrap armor covered mutated bodies, and huge hands carried crude clubs. Their rough, hairless bulk and low center of mass ment that when Zealot tackled into one, the creature caught her charge with ease and threw Zealot back.

The street erupted with the thunder and crack of gunfire as Gamer Man and the New Adventurers leapt from cover and fired into the waiting mob. The monsters dragged cars in front of them, using the vehicles for cover and ammunition. They ripped the cars apart, metal squealing as hinges and joints snapped under unnatural strength, and hurled the ruined pieces of scrap at the heroes. The onslaught quickly proved to be too much for Wytch and Gladiator, car doors and mirrors hurtling after them as the pair moved back behind the corner. Zealot smiled at the danger leaping atop a crumbling car and swinging wildly with her bardiche, each swing taking an inch of flesh off her target.

Wytch peeked out, putting a barrier around Zealot as the monsters turned their focus on her. Tires, seats, exhaust pipes and more bounced off the barrier as Zealot hacked through the arm of one monster.

The three of the beasts hauled a car upright and slammed it into Wytch’s barrier. The magic wall buckled and strained under the force and another trio hoisted a wreck into the air, ready to crush Zealot. Gamer Man sprung forward, sub machine guns roaring as he landed shots on the monster’s eyes and mouths.

For all of Gamer Man’s accuracy, he felt like two more of the bulky things had strode up to him by the time he had put enough bullets into one to finally kill it.

"Fall back!" Gamer Man ordered.

"Come over here and make me!" Zealot howled.

“We’re about to!” Gladiator barked, “Gamer Man, get in there! Wytch, give us some support!”

"Moving!" Gamer Man shouted, readying his stun baton and wading into the melee Zealot had stuck herself in. After a few swings, Gamer Man really didn't know if the mutants could actually feel pain or were getting electrocuted. The monsters slowly surrounded Gamer Man, and joining up with Gladiator and Zealot did little to stem the tide. The heroes’ offensive was ruthless and vengeful, hacking and stabbing and beating the monsters apart as the lumbering beasts closed in. Their swings were slow and clumsy, but the press of bodies meant that the heroes didn’t have much room to avoid them. Heavy fists and scrap metal clubs rained down as Gladiator, Zealot, and Gamer Man fought with all they had.

Gamer Man smashed the face of a monster with his shock maul and caught the fist of another in his open hand. Machine and muscle strained against the creature as it pushed Gamer Man down to one knee. Keeping one hand above him to block, Gamer Man swung his shock maul into the beast's many feet, striking toes and ankles.

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"Grab on!" Wytch yelled, conjuring a ring shaped barrier above Gladiator. The hero wasted no time grabbing the ring and hooking his arm around Zealot, her frenzy fading against the overwhelming odds.

"Kid!" Gladiator shouted, the ring lifting Gladiator and Zealot into the air, "Get out of there!"

With Gladiator and Zealot gone, Gamer Man finally had space to maneuver. That space was already being filled by the shuffling creatures, arms out to crush him, but that narrow space was all Gamer Man needed. He dashed forward, sliding past outstretched arms of a monster and leapt upward, pushing off the thing's head with his arm as Gamer Man flipped into the open air.

Gamer Man ran for the New Adventurers, easily outpacing the monsters, and grabbed at the radio the army had given him.

"Gamer Man to Viper Base, requesting bombardment on my location, over," Gamer Man said.

“This is Viper Base, what is your situation, over,” an engineer asked.

“About twenty of those monsters we first encountered,” Gamer Man explained, “Lurching towards us and blocking the street. Too many for small arms fire or melee combat.”

“Good copy,” the engineer said, “Move to clear target site, over and out.”

A distant crack of thunder rumbled in the distance as Gamer Man and the New Adventurers fled down the open street. Mortars slammed into the pack of monsters, blasting the stupid things to pieces. With the immediate threat taken care of, Gamer Man turned and punched Zealot straight in her face.

"You brought children!" Gargoyle bellowed, "To a warzone!"

"No," Faery Fire explained, "The Sensational Sword Saint Sailors came of their own volition. They planned this, they rescheduled their concert tours, they all decided to come here and help. All I did was follow.”

“And why didn’t you stop them!” Gargoyle demanded.

“Because they seem to have the idea that being a hero means putting themselves in danger constantly,” Faery Fire groaned, “I can only wonder who they got that from.”

“Don’t you even pretend this is my fault,” Gargoyle seethed.

“Listen!” Faery Fire barked, “I don’t like this anymore than you do. They haven’t even finished highschool! What I was able to get from them was a promise that they will be working to support the army, not fight alongside them, and that all of them will be in therapy during the entire event.”

“They’re manifested!” Gargoyle groaned, “The brass is going to put them on the front lines to fight other manife-”

“I know!” Faery Fire snapped, “I told them that! I told them that they would be expected to fight Gorestrike! I told them that it would be the most dangerous, painful, terrifying, horrifying, excruciating thing they have ever done!”

Gargoyle watched the girl hand out candies, japanese crackers, cookies, and other sweets to american soldiers, and considered the situation.

“Why’d they pack sweets?” Gargoyle asked.

“To raise morale,” Faery Fire explained, “They also plan on doing at least one impromptu concert for the soldiers here.”

“How’d they get here so fast anyway?”Gargoyle wondered, “I left early in the morning. Planes should have been booked up.”

“They have a private jet,” Faery Fire said flatly.

Gargoyle paused to take in this information.

“None of them speak English,” Gargoyle said.

“Nope,” Faery Fire said.

“And none of them have finished highschool,” Gargoyle said.

“Blue is on her last year,” Faery Fire said.

“And they have a private jet,” Gargoyle said.

“Biggest pop idol group in all of Japan,” Faery Fire said, “With record deals, merchandise, tours, sponsorships, you name it. Oh, before I forget, I’m glad to see you back in your armor. It looks nice.”

“It’s not a private jet and I don’t even own it. Stone Cutter lends them to me,” Gargoyle said, “But it is nice.”

Gamer Man had to give his report to Sgt. Christopher, knowing full well that the Sensational Sword Saint Sailors were mere feet away from him. Yellow had even gifted him a box of pocky, a treat he would be sure to cherish. Sure, there were many boxes that the Sailors had given out, but this one was his.

“She what?” Christopher asked.

“Zealot decided that the best course of action was to rush headlong into Gorestrike’s monsters,” Gamer Man repeated.

“Current codename for them is lurchers,” Christopher said.

“Zealot decided the best course of action was to rush headlong into a pack of lurchers,” Gamer Man repeated, “I counted five of them when I first looked, they saw me and called for reinforcements. When Zealot charged them I think there were about twelve, with more inbound. After extracting Zealot with the help of Gladiator and Wytch, I felt the best course of action was to call for a mortar strike, rather than try to beat them in close combat, sir.”

“And then you punched Zealot in the face,” Christopher said.

“Yes sir,” Gamer Man answered.

“Dismissed,” Christopher said, grabbing his radio and ordering, “Victor Vibes, report to my office.”

Victor arrived shortly, his usual hippie garb changed for military fatigues. He still wore his headband though. It was a sentimental thing, something he had always since he decided to take up life as a psychic hippie.

“Sir,” Victor reported.

“Your evaluation of the New Adventurers,” Christopher said, “You said something about strange brain patterns.”

“Is something wrong with them?” Victor asked.

“The axe woman, Zealot, decided to break rank, break cover, to charge into close combat with Lurchers,” Christopher said.

“That’s,” Victor concluded,”Not a good thing.”

“You’re right,” Christopher said, “Get me a detailed report of the New Adventurers and Gamer Man. Tell me what’s going on in their heads.”

“Sir, that would be a major breach of ethics and privacy,” Victor said.

“Then they need to be removed from active duty,” Christopher said flatly, “Listen Victor, right now we need all the manifested we can get, but if they can’t follow orders we can’t use them.”

“Isn’t this a job for the Vanguard Squad?” Victor asked.

“I put in a request with some of the generals to deploy Vanguard Squad,” Christopher said grimly, “The request was denied.”

“But a city is being overrun,” Victor said.

“I know,” Christopher said, “Apparently, that’s not enough to deploy them. Right now, our best hope to beat Gorestrike is the New Adventurers, who are crazy, or the Sensational Sword Saint Sailors, who are school children. Now, if you want to hold onto your ethics with your dying breath, do it. But I want you to think long and hard about this: what is more important, you figuring out what’s going on with the New Adventurers so we can win a war, or your own feelings?”

“I’ll get you those reports, sir,” Victor said.

“See to it,” Christopher grunted, ”Dismissed.”

As Victor left, Christopher slumped forward, responsibility and fear weighing heavily on him. He made sure his radio was off, made sure nobody was anywhere close to his tent, before grumbling “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”