The warehouse echoes with the clatter of boots and the heavy grunts of goons circling in. You stand back-to-back with Oliver, your partner in more ways than one. His bow is already drawn, an arrow aimed at the biggest brute in the room, while your fists are clenched, ready to strike.

“You take the left, I’ll take the right?” Oliver suggests, his voice calm but with that edge of amusement he always gets in a fight.

“Sure,” you reply, flashing him a smirk. “Try not to get hit, would you? I like your face the way it is.”

With that, you leap forward, unleashing a flurry of strikes. Your movements are fluid, precise, taking down one thug after another. You twist out of the way of a metal pipe swinging toward you, countering with a high kick that sends your attacker sprawling.

On the other side, Oliver is just as quick, firing arrows that disarm and disable his targets with pinpoint accuracy. His quips come as fast as his shots, keeping the fight light even as chaos reigns.

“You know,” he calls out, dodging a swing and disarming another thug with ease, “we should do this more often. Crime-fighting date nights?”