Gamer Man twisted and pivoted the motorcycle, working to keep out of reach of Gorestrike. The knight was relentless in his assault, and within the first charge had shattered the jousting lance that was bracketed to the motorcycle. Love's arms worked the handle bars as Gamer Man tried to keep Gorestrike on the defensive.

Gorestrike’s footwork was flawless, constantly drifting around Gamer Man’s reach and countering.

"Rescue complete!" Gamer Man heard, "Gamer Man, prepare for evac!"

That was going to be hard. Gamer Man didn’t want to say anything, fearing Gorestrike would somehow catch on.

“Heavy guns are aiming your way!” Christopher barked, “Get out of there now!”

Gamer Man charged past Gorestrike, swinging his makeshift club at him while Love steered Gamer Man away from battle.

“You dare flee!” Gorestrike demanded.

“Fire!” Gamer Man shouted, driving away from Gorestrike as fast as his motorcycle could carry him, “Fire now!”

Gamer Man glanced into the side mirrors of his motorcycle, Gorestrike drifting into the background as Gamer Man crossed block after block. His mind raced as a white cloud flashed in front of Gorestrike. Was that the artillery? Some other hero? The unveiling of Sensational Sword Saint Sailor White? Sure, the Sailors had never even hinted at the existence of a Sailor White, but come on now. Everybody knows after the first five members come together, the team eventually expands to six with Black Ranger, then eventually expands to seven with a White Ranger. But the Sailors were led by Blue, not Red, so Gamer Man thought it was a fair guess that Sailor White would arrive before any Sailor Black.

Gamer Man was ripped from his musings when his motorcycle was torn to shreds beneath him. Gamer Man went rolling across the rough pavement as an ear splitting boom crashed into him.

“Sonic boom,” Gamer Man breathed, staggering to his feet and gazing at Gorestrike, “Gorestrike had a crossbow.”

“Flee from me, will you?” Gorestrike declared, pulling the massive cord of his crossbow back, “Cowardice, I say! Either face me like a man, or die like a dog!”

“Gamer Man to Viper Base, requesting immediate evac!” Gamer Man barked, “Repeat, Gamer Man to Viper Base, requesting immediate evac!”

“This is Viper Base,” a soldier responded, “What is your situation?”

“I’m trying to escape from Gorestrike, and I don’t have a lot of time,” Gamer Man said.

“Maintain your position,” the soldier instructed.

“I can’t maintain my position!” Gamer Man screamed, “The only way I can avoid getting skewered by Gorestrike crossbow is to run straight at him!”

Gamer Man started moving towards Gorestrike at a jog, hoping to drag this out as long as possible, and decided to radio the Sailors.

“Blue, can you hear me?” Gamer Man asked, picking up the pace. He thought he saw Gorestrike doing something with the crossbow.

“-In the name of innocent maidens everywhere, I punish thee!” Blue shouted, “Hopes and Dreams!”

“Augh, I’m fighting Gorestrike,” Gamer Man growled, “While I could be watching the Sailors do team attacks! Blue! I’m fighting Gorestrike and I’m probably going to die! If you can, please come rescue me, but not if you think it will put you in danger!”

Gamer Man watched as Gorestrike drew his sword, and did his best to put on a brave face.

“Gamer Man to Viper Base, I’m about two blocks out from Gorestrike and closing fast! Please do something!”

“Viper Base to Gamer Man, take cover now,” a soldier commanded.

Gamer Man heard the distance crack of an artillery gun, followed by the whining shriek of metal cutting through the air. Gamer Man dove down an alley, wrapping his hands around his head as the ground shook with the impact.

Gamer Man didn’t look back, didn’t bother checking if Gorestrike was dead or wounded, he just ran as fast and as far as he could. Gamer Man cleared one city block, then another, moving to keep as many buildings as possible between himself and Gorestrike, all the while, artillery rounds soared over his head and crashed into Gorestrike.

Viper Base had become a lively place since Faery Fire’s return. Two successive, successful missions against Gorestrike and his team brought moral up, and despite Faery Fire’s insistence that the Sailors weren’t here to be pop idols, Blue had convinced her to let them do at least one impromptu show.

Saccharine sweet, glitter and rainbow coated J-Pop wasn’t exactly the music of choice around the troops, but at the very least everyone, even Gargoyle, was able to agree that some music was better than silence.

Christopher was sitting by a bench, tapping his boot to the infectious melodies of the Sailors, and listening to the news. Gamer Man took a seat next to him, humming along with the Sailors’ singing, even when Christopher shot him a glare that had shut up hardened soldiers. Christopher’s news radio switched to talk about an upcoming trial, six people, four male two female, were accused of a string of murders, robbery, assault, psychological manipulation, and insanity. As the reporters read through the list of charges, Gamer Man’s face shifted from the cheer of getting to attend a Sensational Sword Saint Sailors concert, to worry, to fear, to confusion.

“Sir, permission to speak freely,” Gamer Man said.

“Provided it stops you from humming, granted,” Christopher said.

“I’d like to withdraw from the fight to attend that trial,” Gamer Man explained, “Most of my equipment is broken anyway, I don’t think I’m actually that useful-”

“You’re one of the best riflemen we have,” Christopher said, “You learn fast.”

“Ahh, no, I just practice a lot,” Gamer Man said, “But this trial has me worried.”

“Do you know the accused?” Christopher asked.

“Based on that description, I think so?” Gamer Man asked.

“Well, you’d better go then,” Christopher said, “I’ve been following this since the story first broke. Nobody can get the accused to talk or even emote. Somebody said it’s like holding statues on trial.”

“Thank you sir,” Gamer Man said, “Although, could I borrow a car? I drove here on my motorcycle, and that was destroyed.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“I’ll set up transport for you,” Christopher said.

The prosecutor for the adventurers was a man named Elliot Dawson. Elliot was one of the best prosecutors in the country, if not the best. He sat in his office, a blond, athletic man resting in his plush, high backed leather chair. Set across the wall from his desk was Elliot Dawson’s trophy case, newspapers from some of the high profile cases he worked. “Heroes bring Killanator to jail, Elliot Dawson keeps him there!” “Dawson does it again! Mafia Don Joseph Watch found guilty!” “Don’t mess with Dawson! Defendant’s case in shambles!” The centerpiece of the trophy case was the ongoing tally of what the media had dubbed “Dawson VS Evil” and the current score was forty-seven to three.

On Elliot’s mahogany desk was a picture of his wife, Tiffany. Tiffany defied the mold of Tiffanys across the multiverse by not being a blonde, cheerful, somewhat air headed woman. Instead, she was a doctor with raven black hair. Elliot had met Tiffany after an unsuccessful attempt on his life by supervillains. Aurumite had been nearby and quickly fended off the attack, but the super villains had been quick enough to knock Elliot out. When he woke up at the hospital, Elliot saw Tiffany was checking up on him and the first thing he asked was if they had ruined his beautiful face.

“No,” Tiffany told him, “They just gave you a scar that you can use to impress ladies.”

“Oh,” Elliot said, never one to let life slip him by, “Want to hear the story behind it?”

From there, the rest was romance.

A knock came from Elliot’s door, pulling him from his reverie.

“Come in,” Elliot called.

Aurumite, the head of Vanguard Squad, walked in Elliot’s door.

“Ah, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Elliot asked, “Updates on Vanguard Squad safety contingencies?” After seeing Elliot’s incredible talent for upholding justice and law, Elliot and his family had been put on a list of priority targets to rescue in case of emergency. Elliot was one of the only people to have been given a tour of Vanguard Squad’s headquarters, once to lend his sharp eye and sharper wit to a case that had been placed against them, and once more so Elliot and Tiffany could familiarize themselves with evacuation routes if they were brought there in an emergency.

Elliot would often brag that he planned to be the first guest to Raven Base, Battle Crow’s personal sanctum.

“No, current safety protocols are still in effect,” Aurumite said, sitting down across from Elliot.

“Could I get you a drink?” Elliot asked, reaching for a drawer filled with expensive brandys.

“Milk,” Aurumite answered.

“Does the body good,” Elliot said with a chuckle. Elliot kept a quart of perfectly chilled milk in his liquor cabinet, exclusively for himself and Aurumite.

“So,” Elliot said, pouring Aurumite a glass,” Something tells me this isn’t a social call.”

“I want to take the upcoming case,” Aurumite said, “The group that Vanguard Squad apprehended.”

“You know, Battle Crow already hired me for that,” Elliot asked, “Why?”

“When we caught them, they were fighting Tremortis,” Aurumite said, “And I think they were winning! There was blood on their weapons, but not human blood. Elliot, if you can lighten their sentences I’m hoping they can do community service as punishment, and they’d be serving a lot of communities if they killed Tremortis.”

“You’re sure the blood wasn’t something else?” Elliot asked.

“When we took it back to the labs, it didn’t match anything we had on file,” Aurumite said, “And none of them were injured.”

“Aurumite, if this is true,” Elliot said, “Then- Then I don’t know what. The hope that Tremortis could finally be killed- I-” Elliot took a deep breath. “I’ll see what I can do. It will still be a trial, the list of charges is huge and everyone knows that Elliot Dawson is tough on crime, but I’ll see what I can do. The defense attorney, Annabeth Finch, she’s a tough one. Sharp enough that I don’t have to give her hints. Don’t- don’t tell her though. If the judge finds out we’re conspiring to fix the trial, the case will be thrown out.”

The next morning, Elliot Dawson arrived at the courthouse. He was jittery, working to cover his nerves under his usually confident, smug persona. He had gone over the case with Annabeth, just to get a better understanding of what he was dealing with, made a rough outline of what he planned to use for prosecution, and went to bed. It was a strange feeling, trying to not convict somebody, but Elliot thought if anyone was going to do it, it might as well be him.

A big “If” still hung over him. Two manifested, the private investigation team She-Wolf and Lady NightRaven, had submitted documents detailing their investigation of the adventurers and it was frankly unreal. Based on the route Lady NightRaven thought the adventurers had traveled a large number of murders and missing person cases were suddenly solved, and not in the way Elliot wanted them to be solved.

“All rise for the honorable judge Markus!”

“State your names for the court,” Markus ordered the adventurers.

“Barbarian.”

“Rogue.”

“Fighter.”

“Cler-”

“Your names!” Markus demanded.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” the wizard said.

“Unless you can produce identification that lists your name as “Wizard” I suggest you give us your name,” Markus said, “If it comes to light that you sorry lot were wrongfully convicted, and we do not know what your names are, we will not be able to find the documentation needed for your release. If you serve the entirety of your sentence, and we do not know what your names are, we will be unable to find the documentation needed for your release. If you go to prison, and you ever plan on being released, you will need to tell us your names.”

“We don’t carry identification,” the fighter said, ‘To protect us from any psychic warlords.”

“And have you seen a “psychic warlord” since you came here?” Judge Markus demanded.

“No,” the wizard said, “But absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.”

“Couldn’t you just write down whatever name we give you?” the bard asked, “If I said my name was Glylphinndorfe, how would you know it wasn’t?”

“Bard, that would be lying,” the cleric said.

“Excuse me, court records,” a man said, sitting in front of a typewriter, “How do you spell that?”

“Which part? Bard?” the bard asked.

“No, glilfindorf,” the man said.

“It’s Glylphinndorfe,” the bard said, “And g-l-y-l-p-h-i-n-n-d-o-r-f-e”

“Order in the court!” Markus said with a bang of his gavel, “Ma’am, this trial will not proceed until the accused state their names. If you do not state your names, I will add obstruction of justice to your very long list of charges.”

“Fine,” the bard said, “My name is Blake.”

“My name is Wally-” the wizard said, “Wait, no. Winston? Wilbur? Winslow? That was it, Winslow!”

“Barnabus,” the barbarian said.

“I think mine was Fredrick,” the fighter said.

“No it wasn’t,” the rogue said.

“It wasn’t?” the fighter asked, “Maybe it was Fergus. Yeah, Fergus sounds right.”

“My name is Roger,” the rogue said.

“Claire,” the cleric said, “And before you ask, none of us have last names.”

“Do you know what you stand accused of?” Markus asked.

“Killing a bunch of people, whatever the bard did when she was mucking around on the internet,” the fighter listed off, “Probably some thievery, threatening people, threatening people who deserve it. Oh! Property damage, I remember that one.”

“And spreading class two cognitive hazards across half the city,” Markus said.

“Don’t remember doing anything like that,” the barbarian said.

“You don’t remember spreading your gold coins around?” Markus asked.

“Oh, we remember paying in gold,” the rogue said, “But that’s really only a problem if you suck.”

“And are you aware you’re wanted on over a dozen counts of murder?” Markus asked.

“No,” the cleric said, “We didn’t do that.”

“You didn’t,” Markus said.

“No, we did not,” the cleric explained, “Because murder is wrong. We carried out, lethally, justice against evil doers.”

Elliot Dawson could hardly believe himself. He had fought long and hard in the courtroom against some of the most dangerous supervillains in history, but this, Dawson knew, would be his hardest case ever.