“Hey!” Lady NightRaven said, turning her laptop towards She-Wolf as she drove, “There’s another report of gold coins being spent.”

She-Wolf’s eyes briefly flickered to the laptop before focusing back on the road. “Where?” she asked.

“Kings Head Chicago,” Lady NightRaven said, “A trio used gold coins to buy an electric guitar. People are guessing they’re aliens. Or time travelers.”

“People think everything is an alien or time traveler,” She-Wolf grumbled, “Tell me what happened.”

“Well, three people walked into an instrument supply store, asked some really odd questions, made some, either extremely racist or extremely bizarre, remarks,” Lady NightRaven said, “Paid in gold coins, and left.”

“What do you mean racist or bizarre?” She-Wolf asked.

“It’s either, and information seems to be split on this,” Lady NightRaven said, “They demanded to know why a black woman, Diane, who broke the story, was working at an instrument supply store, or why two women would be working at an instrument supply store, or why the store would hire two people.”

She-Wolf was silent.

“They also asked about speakers,” Lady NightRaven continued, “Supposedly, they either didn’t know what they were or just didn’t know how they worked. I don’t know, this is really strange.”

“I think they’re pod people,” She-Wolf said.

“Oh, don’t you-”

“No, I’m serious,” She-Wolf said, “The rumor is, pod people only have implanted memories. The memories don’t cover every part of regular life, and the lack of experience and social etiquette leads the pod person to asking bizarre questions.”

“Pod people are only a rumor,” Lady NightRaven chided.

“And were you seriously considering time travelers?” She-Wolf asked, “Or aliens?”

“I just said that it’s a rumor,” Lady NightRaven said, “Pod people are exactly as likely as time travellers, or aliens, or people from a different dimension.”

“Right,” She-Wolf muttered, “You know, I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Trying to hunt down a group of vagabonds?” Lady NightRaven asked, “Why not?”

“No, I mean going to Kings Head,” She-Wolf explained, pulling her car to the highway’s shoulder and stopping, “Think about it. We would have to evade The Executives, The Cult of Brass and the White Herald, Underland, Wolfgang, Gorestrike- we’re about to venture into one of the highest supervillain populations on the planet in search of… Do we actually have a picture of them?”

“The store hasn’t made security footage public,” Lady NightRaven said, “And I can’t find any other sightings of them.”

“So we’re searching for people who we still have no clue on,” She-Wolf said, “And they’re probably hostile.”

“They didn’t attack the storefront,” Lady NightRaven retorted.

“They paid in gold,” She-Wolf, “And whoever works there went to the news with this. She’s got a massive target painted on her.”

“How about this,” Lady NightRaven suggested, “We go to the instrument supply shop, it’s in a nicer part of town so we shouldn’t be in much danger, talk to the owner and employees-”

“If any of them are still breathing,” She-Wolf huffed.

“Get a description of these people,” Lady NightRaven continued, “Hopefully some camera footage as well, make our report, and leave. Does that sound too dangerous?”

“That sounds fine,” She-Wolf admitted, “But if any major players start tailing us, we bail.”

“Wolf-”

“No! Raven, listen to me,” She-Wolf demanded, “These aren’t people we can handle. If we get captured, what happens to us?”

“We die,” Lady NightRaven guessed.

“We hope we die,” She-Wolf corrected, “Because death is fast and easy. What probably happens is we get brutally beaten for daring to interfere with supervillain business and then sold off to some mad scientist to be experimented on, tortured, and humiliated for the rest of our, hopefully short, lives. The vampirism that infected you-”

“If it is vampirism,” Lady NightRaven interjected.

“Is harvested and harnessed to make an army of crazed, dark warriors,” She-Wolf finished, “The same thing probably happens to me as well. Because we lose, the world has to face down an army of sang-wolf super soldiers.”

“Sang-wolf?” Lady NightRaven asked.

“Short for ‘sanguis’ the Latin word for blood,” She-Wolf explained, “Similar to how the ‘were’ in werewolf is Latin for ‘man.’”

“Then just call them blood-wolves,” Lady NightRaven said, “And no, it isn’t.”

“What, you think they’ll just let us go?” She-Wolf demanded.

“No- No. I meant that ‘were’ isn’t Latin for ‘man,’” Lady NightRaven explained, “That’s ‘vir.’ You were thinking of the Old English word. If you want to go with Latin, call them Lu-pires.”

“You actually paid attention to that class?” She-Wolf asked.

“More than you did,” Lady NightRaven said with a snort, “And listen, if things look bad then we’ll leave. I’m fine with that. However, we need to at least try.”

“Alright,” She-Wolf said, pulling back onto the road, “It’s just, this job is the most dangerous thing we’ve done.”

…

Alexa, giddyness taking hold of her, had stepped out of her apartment to splurge at the convenience store, leaving Diane to keep the place warm for a moment. As much as she tried to stop herself, the gold coins seemed to light up her home. She was rich, and as cautious as she was, Alexa wanted to feel rich.

Convenience store ice cream wasn't rich per say, but caramel pecan always cheered her up. She was more than happy to spend a little.

It was late at night when She-Wolf pulled up to Alexa’s apartment, lit by dull, yellow street lights with a light breeze whipping around the trees. The muted ‘thump’ of car doors closing was followed by a loud, bellowing voice.

“I am Gorestrike, son of Gorestrike!” Gorestrike declared, his voice full of pride and thunder, and his massive, armored frame clearly visible in the night.

“To all worthy challengers, please exit your homes so that I may engage you in combat,” Gorestrike continued, his heavy boots clanking against the third floor walkway, “You shall find honour and glory at the end of Gorestrike, my mighty greatsword! If your name is Diane Walters, you need not worry. I am coming to you.”

“Gorestrike,” She-Wolf muttered, her eyes wide in shock.

“Can we take him?” Lady NightRaven said in a hiss, “Wolf, answer me!”

She-Wolf shook her head, focusing on Gorestrike. When she took the name She-Wolf, she had always wanted to fight supervillains. It was funny how hard it was to remember that when super villains showed up.

“Yes!” She-Wolf blurted, “I brought some guns, they’re in the trunk of the car-”

There was a loud ‘CRACK!’ of wood splintering, followed by a woman’s scream.

“Hurry!” She-Wolf shouted, “I’ll distract him!”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

She-Wolf sprinted towards the apartment complex, bounding up into the air as she closed distance. Her hand grabbed the second floor railing, the metal groaning as she put her weight on it and flung herself up to the third floor. She-Wolf moved at a dead sprint, closing in on Alexa’s apartment, and barely stopping as she reached the door. Diane was curled up in one corner of the living room, tears flowing freely as she begged and pleaded for her life.

In front of her was Gorestrike. The metal horns on Gorestrike’s helmet meant he cleared eight feet of height with inches to spare, a true giant of a man. Gorestrike’s armor was a solid red and expertly coated his massive body. Arms thick as tree trunks and legs thicker still. In Gorestrike’s hand was his sword, Gorestrike, a roughly hewn slab of metal nearly as tall as Gorestrike himself. The sword’s hilt and point was a mess of spikes and hooks, while the double blade was kept smooth and sharp. On Gorestrike’s back was a double bladed axe and morning star, each as heavy and wicked as the sword.

Gorestrike raised his sword, looming over Diane, and She-Wolf leapt at him. She wrapped both arms around Gorestrike’s meaty hand and hooked one knee under Gorestrike’s back, pulling back with all her strength.

“Hm? Ah,” Gorestrike remarked, “A worthy foe, delightful.”

“Run!” She-Wolf commanded, “Get out of here!”

As Diane fled, Gorestrike grabbed She-Wolf with his open hand and flung the werewolf at her. She-Wolf jerked and twisted through the air, narrowly avoiding Diane and crashing into the plaster walls.

“You’ll have to put up more of a fight than that to be worthy,” Gorestrike declared, stomping over to She-Wolf, “Still, your courage is commendable.”

She-Wolf sprung forward, dust and plaster trailing behind her as she grabbed a kitchen knife and frying pan off the counter.

“You plan to best Gorestrike with… cookware?” Gorestrike inquired, his chuckle thundering in She-Wolf’s ears, “Very well.”

Gorestrike stepped forward and She-Wolf flung the pan at Gorestrike’s face, the giant swatting the pan away with a powerful backhand. The next thing Gorestrike saw was She-Wolf diving at him, the chef’s knife held forward and braced against one palm, aiming for the eye slit in his helmet. Gorestrike’s reaction was fast, faster than a man his size should be able to move. He sidestepped She-Wolf, letting her fly for the front door.

She-Wolf did not act on instinct, but rather anticipation. When she landed, she spun on one foot to face Gorestrike, leaned forward, and pushed both hands out to grab whatever came near. Gorestrike’s sword caught She-Wolf in the hip, the strike moving up to her chest before She-Wolf grabbed Gorestrike’s wrist and steadied herself on his blade. She-Wolf gave shallow, gasping breaths and her eyes went wide. Hope burned in desperation that he wouldn’t finish her off.

“Courage is no substitute for skill,” Gorestrike chided, pulling She-Wolf off his sword, “Still, I suppose you fought your best with what you had. The diving attack was impressive.”

She-Wolf choked in response.

“Still, the fight is mine,” Gorestrike declared. She-Wolf pinwheeled through the air as Gorestrike flung her, landing with a splat and a crunch in the parking lot.

“My friend can regenerate,” Lady NightRaven muttered, flicking off the safety switch, “My friend can regenerate. My friend can regenerate. My friend can regenerate.”

Lady NightRaven had no fantasies of superhero versus supervillain combat, and the guns she and She-Wolf bought reflected that. One drum fed, ten gauge slug shotgun with a 2x scope, underbarrel grenade launcher, gas vents, and firing mode set to “burst” was braced against her shoulder, and a copy was slung on her hip. Three slugs hammered into Gorestrike, leaving coin thin dents in his armor.

“Another challenger?” Gorestrike noted, “I’m afraid I don’t have a crossbow, and must engage you in grand melee. You wouldn’t happen to have a proper blade, would you?” Gorestrike walked through the third story railing like it wasn’t even there, and hopped to the ground.

Well, Gorestrike did hop, but really the crunchy “SLAM!” Gorestrike made when he landed was loud enough to echo and his boots left spiderweb cracks longer than he was tall. Lady NightRaven switched her shotgun to full auto, and unloaded into Gorestrike. The gun spat fire and hatred, each shot booming and cracking the air, slamming into Gorestrike.

Under the assault, Gorestrike’s head flinched and jerked back when struck, his shoulders twitched and bucked, but his advance did not stop.

“Get to the car!” Lady NightRaven shouted to Diane, straining to be heard over the gunfire, “Go! Move!”

“I’m afraid Miss Diane is my prize,” Gorestrike declared, striding after the woman. A trio of well placed shots pushed Gorestrike’s sword to the side, narrowly missing Diane.

“Move!” Lady NightRaven commanded, “The car! Go!”

“Lady, my business does not involve you,” Gorestrike declared, walking after Diane as panic pulled her forward, “I am to kill her and claim my prize. If you want, you can fight me for it, but I was here first.”

“Not gonna happen!” She-Wolf shouted, tackling Gorestrike’s knee.

“You again?” Gorestrike remarked, stumbling for a moment, “Perhaps I shall have to use my morning star, Gorestrike.”

As Gorestrike reached for his morning star, Lady NightRaven rushed forward, leapt onto Gorestrike’s shoulders, and hammered slug rounds into him.

“Your toys are no match for my armor, Gorestrike!” Gorestrike bellowed, his voice seething with rage, “Dismount me and fight with honour!” She-Wolf snatched the spare shotgun from Lady NightRaven’s hip, jammed the barrel against the back of Gorestrike’s knee, and fired.

“Augh!” Gorestrike yelped, a trickle of blood rolling off his knee, “A blow well struck! Allow me to retort!”

Gorestrike wrapped his hands around Lady NightRaven’s calf, swinging her against the running She-Wolf in a singular, smooth motion. Lady NightRaven turned to mist in Gorestrike’s hand, passing through She-Wolf and drifting away before reforming.

She-Wolf got into the car and started the engine, pulling Diane into the backseat as she went.

“Foul sorcery!” Gorestrike howled, pointing an accusing finger at Lady NightRaven, “How dare you defile honest combat!”

Lady NightRaven launched a grenade at Gorestrike, the cylinder sticking to the side of Gorestrike’s helmet.

“I tire of your games and your toys!” Gorestrike bellowed, his morning star raised high, “Your magicks shall not save you!”

She-Wolf put the car into gear with practised ease, the engine letting out a deep hum as she drove for Lady NightRaven.

“You’re going to hit her!” Diane shrieked, “Get me out of here!”

The grenade by Gorestrike’s head erupted with a blinding flash of light and a high pitched “PANG!” that rung in his ears. The giant staggered, clutching his helmet and cursing, as Lady NightRaven turned to mist and drifted into She-Wolf’s car.

“We’ll take you down to the police station,” Lady NightRaven said, her voice clipped and curt, “In the meantime, She-Wolf and I would like to ask you a few questions.”

“You can’t have my gold!” Diane barked.

“Lady NightRaven, our passenger seems to be in hysterics,” She-Wolf said, maintaining an air of professionalism.

“Of course I’m in hysterics!” Diane screamed, “A giant just tried to kill me!”

“Lady NightRaven, could you use your hypnotism on her?” She-Wolf asked.

“Ohno! No!” Diane screamed, “I have had enough of you freaks for one night! I’m not letting some nightwalker hypnotise me! Just drop me off at the next corner and I’ll tell my friends I hired a-”

Lady NightRaven pulled a paper bag from the glove box and wordlessly pushed it over Diane’s mouth.

“Breathe,” Lady NightRaven commanded, only relaxing her grip after Diane took several deep, gulping breaths. Lady NightRaven pulled a bar of chocolate out of the glove box, passing it to Diane.

“Are you allergic?” Lady NightRaven asked.

“No,” Diane answered.

“Then have some,” Lady NightRaven said, snapping off a few squares, “Chocolate is a natural upper, it should help you calm down. Feeling any better?”

“Yes.”

“Good, my partner and I have some questions for you,” Lady NightRaven said, opening a notepad.

“If it’s about the gold, you can’t have it,” Diane said.

“We don’t want your gold,” Lady NightRaven soothed, “We just want to ask you a few questions. Now, who gave it to you?”

“I don’t know, strangers,” Diane said, “I swear, I’d never met them before.”

“What did they look like?” Lady NightRaven asked.

“There was a really big guy dressed like Conan,” Diane said, “Built like Conan as well. Another man dressed up as Merlin-”

“Merlin?” Lady NightRaven asked.

“Yeah, Merlin the wizard,” Diane said, “You know, big, pointy hat, blue cloak with stars. The third was a woman, and a total hottie. Made me jealous. You know how hard it is to wear an undercut and not look crazy?”

“A what?” She-Wolf asked.

“It’s that haircut where one side of your head is shaved,” Diane explained, “This blonde chick could pull that off, I should have asked for her conditioner. She came in asking for a one handed string instrument.”

“You mean like a…” Lady NightRaven trailed off, “How do you do that?”

“After she left I asked her,” Diane said, “Apparently she holds the guitar between her knee and elbow, then plays with her wrist. Must’ve practiced that a lot, because it sounded really good. The fact that she could play around that chest was also amazing. She had the kind of perfect ten body that teenagers dream about.”

“Well,” She-Wolf remarked, “Medicine has been advancing faster than ever. Maybe fashion pills have gotten that far?”

“Doubtful,” Lady NightRaven said, “It’s a lot harder to get medicine approved for public use compared to cybernetics or biological augmentation. Even though they’re paying in gold, we don’t know how deep their pockets are. Did they mention any names?”

“No,” Diane said with a brief shake of her head, “The guy in a bathrobe called the woman “The bard.” I don’t- I don’t know what that means.”

“Alright, we’re at the station,” She-Wolf announced, “Lady NightRaven, we’ll need to file a report on our fight with Gorestrike.

…

Gorestrike watched the tail lights of She-Wolf’s car shrink as she drove off, shrugging in disappointment. He could run after, able to maintain a run of thirty miles an hour for days on end, but cars always seemed to be faster than him. The last thing he wanted to do was chase some car all night long.

“Before I go,” Gorestrike declared, his voice booming across the apartment complex, “Are there any challengers ready to prove their worth?”

A single door opened on the first floor. The man who stepped out had bloodshot eyes and an incredibly toned body with bulging veins. In his hands was a pickaxe bought from a hardware store, held in a white knuckle grip.

“Well?” Gorestrike demanded.

“For the White Herald!” the man shrieked, charging Gorestrike.

The man did not last long, but Gorestrike appreciated the effort.