Another three enemies tear across the intersection.

I step back onto the sidewalk, the roof protecting me from any overhead attacks. “Ron, adjust your fortitude!”

“Huh?”

“Your fortitude. Just think about adding three points to fortitude!”

“Uhhhh…”

Too late. The mutant fish furiously bat their wings as they gun for our hapless tank.

Luci fires. The nearest of the trio spins out of formation, but the other two are nearly here. Another black blur forms in the alley. It’s very possible we bit off more than we could chew…

“More fortitude! Rock on!” whoops Ron. “Now what?”

“Now snap out of the menu and don’t look again until we’re- shit!”

One of the piranhas swoops low. Its teeth narrow in on Ron’s ass. Again, my body acts as though it has a mind of its own, like combat is just a familiar dance that my brain has long forgot.

In one step, I reach forward and lash my blade across the monster’s belly. Black ichor pours from the cut. Quicker than I ever thought possible, my arm wrenches back, and the machete thrusts into its flesh.

I whip the monster to the concrete, step on its wing, and peel my blade from its body.

Damn, that feels good.

Beside me, Ron smacks down a monster overhead with a solid, satisfying thud. It’s dead before it hits the ground.

Another rich waft of briny fish floods my nostrils. The stench is so thick that it nearly supercedes that rotting earthy smell of the vines. Ugh. It’s like low tide on a hot summer day. Ladies, you know what I mean. Remember your probiotics!

The piranha from the alley blinks into view. And it’s not alone.

“Swarm incoming!” I shout.

A whirlwind of wings flutter toward us. I have no idea how many there are. Three? Five? Ten?

Also, where the hell is Elias? If he’s dead, I’m gonna kill him.

A shot rings through the air. Then another. A monster falls to the ground with a splat. The rest are undeterred.

Ron stands firm, a bulwark against the storm quickly descending upon us. Say what you will, but the man understands his position. Even if I had the guy’s fortitude, I’m not sure I could stem the tide of a teeming swarm of flying piranhas quite like he does. He’s brave. Fearless. Or just stupid and/or high enough not to understand how much trouble he’s in. Either way, he’s a great tank.

Swinging like a Little Leaguer, Ron knocks one of the monsters out of the air, then twirls the bat into another monster’s jaw. Inky black spatters Ron’s face. Grinning, he bounces on his heels and rears up for another swing. He looks utterly gleeful.

Then, one of the flying piranhas splits from the group. For the first time in this fight, it isn’t aiming for Ron. It’s aiming for me.

I center myself and stare down the horrifying maw headed my way. Its veiny wings pulse. Its teeth gnash. Its oily skin shimmers. Yeah, I’m definitely not tank material.

Panic bubbles. My mind races. I try to visualize my first kill with the machete: the way I sailed through the air, how the weapon felt in my hands as I sliced through its fishy flesh. With a steady breath, I get ready to soar.

Something falters. Just as I’m about to leap from the sidewalk, I second-guess myself. I wonder about the position of my feet, the length of the jump, the grip on my blade.

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

It’s like singing along to a familiar song, only to forget the lyrics mid-sentence. A tendon along the bottom of my foot spasms. Instead of jumping like a ninja and carving a perfect line through the monster’s body, I lurch like a moron and nail it with my head.

It’s like headbutting a door. The prick’s harder than it looks.

I try to regain my balance, but something hits me in the shoulder. I’m not sure what happens next. I see wings. I hear shouting. And then my arms scrape along the pavement, and my chin smacks against the ground.

My eyes blur, my head rattling from my jaw to my skull. Biting back the pain, I start to move.

Then my leg shrieks in agony.

Dozens of teeth sink into my calf. It’s fire. Throbbing fire. I can’t see, but I can feel the monster biting and tearing away at my flesh like I’m a KFC drumstick.

I try to shake it free. Turn over onto my back. Hit it with my machete. All I feel is searing pain. My muscles won’t cooperate. I scream at my body to move. Just move. Fucking move!

A bullet cracks.

The weight on my leg disappears, yet the agony remains. The pavement is at my back now. I’m facing upward. Did I turn over?

More weight on my leg. Another monster come to feast.

There’s a clash of shadow above me: the muddy cloud of Ron’s body, a sliver that I’m guessing is his bat, and a flurry of fuzzy wings.

A voice filters through the fog. “Helen!”

My eyes focus. Luci is kneeling by my feet, her hands working over me as she wraps a roll of gauze around my leg. Or at least the tattered remains of one. Christ, I can’t look.

“Ron, ohmygod, on your arm!” she cries.

I glance up to see a flying piranha solidly fixed to Ron’s bicep. Ron yelps and bashes the butt of his bat into its face. One hit, two hits, three hits, and the squirming mass breaks free. It flops to the ground. Ron squishes the fucker with a final stomp.

“Ow,” whines Ron. He rubs at a fine line of teensy little puncture marks. That’s all the monster did to him. I’m a horrifying shredded mess, and he’s a cute li’l cotton pincushion. So that’s what fortitude looks like.

Luci fixes the gauze in place and gives me a hopeful thumbs up.

Seconds later, godsent relief floods through my calf. It’s like running cold water over a burn. The agony eases. The heat subsides. Only prickles of pain remain as my flesh heals. I can actually feel it: the muscles regrowing, tendons snapping in place, and skin knitting back together. Soon, my leg aches like a week-old surgery. I’m gonna have a hell of a limp, but I’ll be okay.

Overhead, a pair of piranhas soar over the warehouse.

Luci helps me to my feet. “Ready?”

Flimsy but standing, I grit my teeth. “Ready.”

The next few minutes fly by in a blur. Before long, we’ve downed a total of eleven monsters, with Luci and me at a Level 4 and Ron right behind us. That's fourteen more to go between the three of us and however many Elias needs, if he's still kicking. And there's still nearly forty minutes left on the clock.

We catch a small break, during which Ron adds another three points to fortitude. His strength is hot while his dexterity is for shit. He misses half the swings he takes, but the ones he lands are almost all lethal. Hit or miss, the man’s a stellar tank.

With Luci’s dexterity and long-range weapon handling, she’s a great shot. Her fingers work in a blur, and she recovers from recoil like a seasoned pro. One after the other, she picks monsters out of the sky. Although not every hit is a kill, nearly every hit lands. And she’ll only get better.

No matter the result, the girl is pure class. While the forty-some-year-old Ron is whooping and cheering after every blow, Luci is calm and laser-focused, her pink miniskirt and fuzzy white vest fully caked with fetid black blood.

And me? So long as I shut off my brain, I’m a ninja. The second I try to involve my brain, I stumble like a newborn calf. I think it’s because my feet and fingers are dextrous, but I - myself - am not used to moving like that. I need the experience. I need to train. Plus my melee weapon handling is at a whopping 3. Until that improves, I try to stifle my thoughts and embrace the no-fucks crazy lady of yore.

Saying all that, I have an inkling that a rogue class may really suit me. It’s quick and cutting, subtle and yet audacious. And with stamina to match, I don’t have to worry about losing energy. And I’ve never been a high-energy person, so I must say that’s appealing.

Plus I’ve got a new class:

Machete Mambi

Triggered by: Damaging an enemy with a machete.

In the 19th century, Cuban guerrilla soldiers, known as the mambises, were great believers in the machete. Armed with guns and broad blades, the liberators of Cuba bled the forces of their oppressors - although disease-ridden mosquitoes had a pretty good part to play too. But don’t count on yellow fever helping you out! Cut down your opponents with this brutal fighter class.

Discovered Class Bonus Unlocked:

A Degüello!: Perform two attacks in quick succession with any slashing weapon.

Overall, our party is a hot mess, like a circus during its first dress rehearsal. All show with no finesse. If it weren’t for the stat bumps and the fact that the monsters are all Level 2, we’d be roadkill. Instead, we’re doing so much better than I could have possibly imagined.

Which, obviously, is the thought that triggers Elias’ timely arrival and the furious swarm of flying piranhas at his back.