The fighter had been wandering the streets for about two days now. While he didn’t think it was going badly, all things considered, the fighter knew that it wasn’t going well. In that time, he had gotten new clothes, a thick leather jacket, undershirt, jeans and steel toed boots. He had found some new weapons, a metal bat that the fighter had already bent wildly out of shape during a rough fight against some troublesome thugs, a golf club that broke after two strikes, metal pipes, hatchets, construction hammers, wooden boards, luckily the combat knife hadn’t broke, but the fighter was especially careful with it.

Weapons weren’t the only issue, the fighter was in desperate need of better armor, and a shield as well. He had tried garbage can lids, but that had lasn’t less time than the golf club. The leather jacket he wore was already full of small nicks and scratches, and in dire need of replacing.

The fighter sat at the end of an alley, looking over his meager possessions, when an armored figure stepped in to greet him.

“Fergus,” the man said, “Surrender. We have you surrounded.”

“You had me surrounded the last time,” the fighter said, “For all the good that did you. What do you want, anyway?”

“We are the Exigent Circumstances Squad,” the man said, “It is our job to-”

“No, no,” the fighter said, “What do you want?”

“To kill you,” the man said, “You’re a threat to-”

“You try to kill me,” the fighter warned, “I’ll kill you back. Last I counted, there’s only one of you.”

“Squad, prepare to-” the man said.

A smoke bomb dropped between the fighter and the ExS agent, blanketing the area in a cloud thick enough to send the agent to a coughing fit.

“Battle Lad, get him out of there!” a voice called.

“On it!” Battle Lad answered, wrapping his hands around the fighter.

“Power Jack!” Battle Lad called, “I have the target, evac now!”

“Hey, if you touch my knife I’m gonna-” the fighter said, before the rope harness yanked the fighter and Battle Lad up into the sky. Battle Lad landed in a helicopter, lending the fighter a helping hand to lift himself in.

“So, I wanna ask,” the fighter said.

“I know, we don’t usually recruit new members like that,” Battle Lad said, “But, these are desperate times. I led the Courage Crew, and yes, I am Battle Led, teenage protege of Grand Master. Exigent Circumstances have captured a great number of our members, and we’ve been hard pressed to keep villains off the streets. Right now, we’re down to just a handful of members. But, I’m hoping you’ll be willing to join us.”

“For what?” the fighter asked.

“For the last few weeks, we’ve been tracking down Weather Witch,” Battle Lad said, “And now we’ve finally caught her, but Power Jack said we need more members to take on someone like her.”

“A quest?” the fighter asked.

“I wouldn’t really call it a quest,” Battle Lad said, “But I suppose that’s what it is.”

The fighter loved quests, loved adventuring, adventure, and adventures. He loved trekking across the familiar and new, hunting down evildoers, and loved taking watch around a campfire. He loved unearthing ancient treasures, loved delving into forgotten tombs, loved marching across rolling hills and otherworldly forests.

The rest of the adventurers would ache and moan about sleeping outside in a thunderstorm, complain about tasteless rations, gripe about injuries, and sometimes the fighter would join in, but the simple truth was that the fighter loved adventure. While he knew that payment was an important part to taking on bigger, better, more dangerous adventures, the fighter honestly understood that he loved adventure so much he’d do it for free if he had to.

He had been offered castles, manors, fortresses, temples, a wide collection of houses and property that any commoner would dream for, but none of them could ever compare to the fighter’s love of the open road.

“I’ll do it,” the fighter declared, before adding, “What’s the pay?”

“I, erm, don’t have much in the way of cash right now,” Battle Lad admitted, “Exigent Circumstances raided our base some weeks back. I’ve wanted to strike back, but they’re a tough nut to crack. Besides, isn’t a good deed its own reward?”

“It is,” the fighter said.

“Either way,” Battle Lad said, “I’m sure we can scrounge up some money if you’re strapped for it. Come on, I can introduce you to the rest of the team.” Battle Lad pressed a button on his glove. “Come on in.”

Two people walked into the back of the transport helicopter with the fighter and Battle Lad.

“Alright, this is Night Walker,” Battle Lad said, gesturing to a man wearing a black trenchcoat, short, slicked back hair, thin, black glasses, and a katana strapped to his back.

“And this,” Battle Lad said, “Is Sword Princess.” Sword Princess was a blonde, teenage girl, dressed in a pink tank top, jean shorts, and flip flops. There was also a flamberge floating over her shoulder, wrought of dark metal, a skull inlay in the cross guard, and black leather wrap for the handle.

“Hey,” the fighter said, “Can I have that sword?”

“No,” Sword Princess said, “As much as I don’t like it. Listen, I don’t have anything against goth girls, or goth fashion, but it’s just not me.”

“What?” the fighter said.

“Ugh, look,” Sword Princess said, “When I use the weird, wobbly sword-”

“It’s a flamberge,” the fighter said.

“Then it turns me into a goth girl,” Sword Princess said, “I manifested less than a week ago, I was super excited, but using my power literally gives me black lipsticks.”

“Then just give it to me,” the fighter said, “That looks like a cursed sword anyway.”

“Like I said,” Sword Princess said, “I can’t give other people the sword, it keeps floating over my shoulder like a creeper, and I can’t get it away from me!”

“Definitely a cursed sword,” the fighter said, turning towards Night Walker, “Can I have that sword?”

“No,” Night Walker said, “It’s a- look, it’s a mall katana.”

“A maul katana?” the fighter said, “That gives me an idea.”

“Yeah, I had a battle ready sword,” Night Walker explained, “But that caught a stray bullet, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I would have the cash to replace it, but someone is taking all the money from my book sales.”

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“Didn’t you agree to that?” Battle Lad asked.

“Yes,” Night Walker said, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t get to be angry about it.”

“Well, all I’ve got is this knife,” the fighter said, “I took it off some guy.”

“I-” Battle Lad said, “Would prefer a more non lethal approach to heroism.”

“But she has a sword,” the fighter argued.

“I don’t kill people,” Sword Princess said, “That’d be awful!”

“And he has a sword,” the fighter continued.

“It’s really not used for fighting,” Night Walker said, “I prefer hand to hand anyway.”

“It’s a sword,” the fighter said, “Fighting is all it’s used for. Give me that.”

“It’s really not-” Night Walker said.

The fighter was fast. Really fast, the vampire noted. His hand grabbed the hilt of Night Walker’s sword while the fighter shoved Night Walker into the wall, all so quick that Night Walker barely had time to register the movement. Battle Lad and Sword Princess took note, and Battle Lad’s face set in grim determination as he readied himself to battle the fighter.

The fighter drew Night Walker’s katana, recoiling in shock and revulsion as he felt the sword rattle in his grip.

“You said it-” the fighter said, backing away from Night Walker.

“It’s a display piece!” Night Walker barked, shoving the fighter off him, “Yes, I overpaid, yes, it was a dumb decision, I’ve heard all that before.”

“Anyway,” Battle Lad said, still ready for combat, “Like I said, I prefer non lethal combat.”

“Why?” the fighter asked.

“Well, people have told me I’m naive,” Battle Lad said, “But a living person can work towards redemption, a dead person can’t.”

“You sound like a paladin,” the fighter said, sheathing his knife, “I’ll do my best.”

“You’re not going to attack Night Walker?” Battle Lad asked.

“First off, I wasn’t attacking him, I was stealing from him,” the fighter said, “That’s not lethal. Secondly, I probably won’t attack him again.”

“Probably?” Sword Princess demanded.

“If he’s mind controlled,” the fighter said, “Ensorceled, geased, hexed, bewitched, or in any way compelled to attack me, and the situation is dire enough that it will either be him or me, I’m going to pick me.”

“That probably won’t happen anyway,” the fighter added.

“Glad I know where I stand,” Night Walker grumbled.

“By the way, I wanted to ask,” the fighter said, turning towards Battle Lad, “Are you a teenager, or a halfling?”

“A what?” Night Walker muttered.

“I’m-” Battle Lad said, “I’m a human teenager.”

“Okay,” the fighter said, “Best to get started when you’re young, good on you.”

“Everytime he talks,” Sword Princess whispered to Battle Lad, “I wonder if he’s a good fit for the team.”

“Coming up on Weather Witch, if y’all are done gabbing,” Power Jack called.

“Oh, right,” Battle Lad said, “Power Jack, do you want to meet the newest member?”

“I heard your conversation on the intercom,” Power Jack replied.

“And that’s a yes?” Battle Lad hoped.

“It’s a no,” Power Jack told him, “Prep for combat, dropping in five.”

“Do you think she’ll come quietly?” Sword Princess asked.

“One can only hope,” Battle Lad said.

“Usually they go with a gurgle,” the fighter said, “It’s only quiet if it’s really fast.”

“You talk like a murderer,” Night Walker said.

“Before we go,” Battle Lad said, turning to the fighter, “What’s your superhero name?”

“It’s,” the fighter said, taking a moment to think, “Call me The Combatant.”

The back of the helicopter opened up, and the three members of the Courage Crew took ropes down to the street, while the fighter stood at the edge of the ramp.

“It’s over, Weather Witch!” Battle Lad called.

Weather Witch was a chocolate skinned, curvy woman in a dark green unitard and a broad, smug smile.

“Ah, the blue haired blunder,” Weather Witch called, a storm brewing over her head, “Spend all your money on hair gel again?”

“What are you waiting for?” Power Jack called, “You know how to use a rope, don’t you?”

“Can you move back a bit?” the fighter asked.

“Come quietly, and we won’t have to hurt you!” Sword Princess declared.

“Hurt me with what, that fashion disaster you call a manifested form?” Weather Witch laughed, “Please, I’ve beaten you three before, and I can beat you again. I am the coming storm.”

“We brought backup!” Battle Lad said.

“No you didn’t,” Weather Witch said, pointing behind Battle Lad.

“Back up for what?” Power Jack demanded, “So you can jump on her?”

“Obviously!” the fighter called.

“Yes we- where is he?” Battle Lad asked.

“He didn’t follow us down,” Night Walker said, “I think he’s from another dimension, they might not have rope there.”

“How would they not have rope?” Battle Lad demanded.

“I don’t know,” Night Walker said, “But he didn’t follow us down.”

“Why would he not- nevermind!” Battle Lad spat, “The three of us shall defeat you!”

“He’s on his way,” Power Jack said, his voice crackling out of Battle Lad’s wristguard.

“Oh, I do so want to meet the newest member of the Courage Crew,” Weather Witch taunted, “Maybe they can teach you how to win a fight.”

“You don’t want to meet him,” Night Walker said, “He’s a crazy person.”

It was hard for the fighter to judge exactly where Weather Witch was standing with the storm clouds over her head, which was why the fighter slammed into the pavement some five feet from Weather Witch. By the time Weather Witch finished saying “What is-” the fighter had sprung to his feet, and wrapped a meaty hand around Weather Witch’s neck.

Then he punched her in the face with his other hand. Weather Witch was a tentious foe, and even as the fighter landed a second and third hit on her, she still had the awareness to launch a bolt of lightning from her storm cloud and into the fighter’s back.

A gust of wind carried Weather Witch into the air, only for the fighter to hurl his knife at her, cold steel cutting into her hand. Weather Witch let out a singular shriek of pain, snarling as she refused to be beaten by this crazed brute, but when she looked back down at the fighter, she saw him pick up a loose rock and throw it after her.

The stone skipped off Weather Witch’s head, and for just a moment the world went black. When Weather Witch regained consciousness moments later, the fighter had her pinned to the ground, a knife was pressed to her throat, and her hand hurt like hell.

“Combatant!” Battle Lad shouted, “What was that?”

“You said non lethal,” the fighter said, “And that wasn’t lethal. You’ve been in fights before, right? What did you think I was going to do?”

“I- Listen, Sword Princess, Night Walker, Power Jack and myself are going to transport Weather Witch back to prison,” Battle Lad explained, passing the fighter a thick bracelet, “Here, this is a Crew Communicator, the signal is encrypted so you shouldn’t have to worry about Exigent Circumstances catching you. We’ll call you if we need help again.”

“Sure,” the fighter said, shoving it into his pocket, “Do you have any place I can stay?”

“My parents’ house has a guest bedroom,” Sword Princess said, “But, I promised Battle Lad and my parents that I wouldn’t bring superheroine work home with me. I don’t think you’d be welcome there.”

“Well,” the fighter said, “If you three are going with the prisoner, sounds like it’s time for me to take my leave.”

“I hope we can meet again,” Battle Lad said.

The fighter wandered away, moving across an unknown city through side streets and back alleys. He was injured, quite badly actually, but that didn’t worry him. There was still adventure ahead of him. He smiled, and how could he not? There was an entire city to see! Full of danger! Villains around every corner!

Adventure!

In every step.