Rita yawned. It was just too quiet in the family restaurant. To be expected, of course. The lunch rush had left, not that there was much of one to begin with on a Tuesday. The regular crowd was in, some old folks with a couple family members. George and his brother, Gretchen, Henrietta. They were talking and laughing, the quiet tink of silverware barely audible over the radio. Only guy who wasn’t was a small man in a hoodie that hung loose on his back and super baggy pants, quietly working on an omelet. The waitress yawned again. The sun had nearly melted the snow from the storm a couple weeks ago, and made her sleepy.

“Look alive, we got customers.” Sally the hostess called. Rita nodded and started grabbing menus. Looked to be five teenage guys, probably playing hooky. Not that she could blame them; first semi-warm day in months, spring just around the corner, Rita knew she’d have skipped. The door opened and they came in, laughing.

“Hi there, how can-”

There was a gun in Rita’s face.

Sally jerked back, but she was grabbed and yanked across the cash register, a knife at her throat.

“Yeah, I want four burgers, a plate of those cinnamon buns, all the cash in the register, and that old guy to drop the phone. No cops or capes, capishe?” the kid said calmly, pointing the knife at George, who reluctantly put his cell on the table. “No sudden moves, no one plays hero, no one gets hurt. Good deal, right?” He grinned.

The other three had guns as well, and they circled the crowded table.

“Hand over all your money and/or valuables, let’s go.” one demanded. Rita could make out an insignia of a suit of cards, held by a red hand and on fire on the backs of their jackets. Oh god, they were part of the Devil’s Deal.

“W-We don’t want t-trouble-” Sally stammered.

“And neither do we. We only want the money. Someone cover the cook!” their leader shouted, spinning the knife in his hand. With all the commotion, no one saw the small man rise quietly from his booth.

A moment later Richie the cook was pushed onto his knees through the kitchen doors, hands on his head.

“This guy was trying to call the cops!” the thug pointing the gun at him said. “Should we teach him a lesson?”

“Nah. Just take everything he’s got. Still waiting on those cinnamon buns, sweetheart.” their leader said, waving the knife over the hostess. She reached down with trembling hands behind the display, putting them in a box, praying to herself no one would get hurt.

“You know, you’re a really pretty girl. Got a boyfriend? I could be your boyfriend.” the young man holding the gun in her face said to Rita. Oh god, oh god, oh god. “How ‘bout a kiss?” She felt sick to her stomach.

“I-I…”

“Mmm? What, saying I’m ugly? Oh, that’s not nice at all. Maybe you just need to get to know me a little better. Think so, Vic?” he called to the teen with the knife.

“Do what you want, all good to me. The money, next.” he said, the tip of the blade pointed at Sally’s throat.

“Y-You won’t get away with this. D-Dirge’ll stop you.” she said, more to herself than him. Vic rolled his eyes.

“Please. As if that has-been could do anything. Even if he were in town, I can stick a knife in his neck before he could shout. But I could make him scream real good.” he dismissed, grinning maliciously. “Got the goods?” he called.

“Got it.” one of the gang said, pocketing the money from the tables.

“Got mine too. Let’s go, babe.” the teen said to Rita, grabbing her wrist. She was paralyzed with fear.

“N-No, I…!”

“Aw, just gotta thaw you out a bit. I can take care of that easy.” He pulled her close, catching her off balance. Rita may have been a decade older, but he was a bigger guy than her. The other patrons and orders watched helplessly, weapons trained on them. Rita shook her head, crying. No one had the opportunity to call for help. She was done for.

“Excuse me. Don’t think she wants to go with you.” came from behind him in a smooth baritone.

“Piss off, you…” He turned, and saw a black hoodie, stretched taught. He looked up, and up, and up. Dear lord, he was a wall! He found himself under the brilliant blue glare of a man grinning confidently from ear to ear, his blond hair slicked back. “Where’d you come from!?” he demanded, swinging the gun to him. The hoodie and cargo pants the man wore were strained to the breaking point under the size of his bulging muscles.

“Don’t think it’s nice to steal all these fine people’s money, either. Why don’t you put everything down and run home, huh?” the giant said, unperturbed about the gun.

“Great. Another wannabe hero. Drop him.” Vic said, still pointing the knife at Sally. The teen sneered. He saw it. The conformation, the decision. The muscles and tendons in his body tensing and pulling, sending the signal to squeeze the trigger.

Before he could, the giant moved. His arms came up, one grabbing the gun and pulling back, the other thrusting forwards into the teens’ chest. The kid was sent flying back, hitting another member of the gang and slamming both into the far wall, where they fell in a crumpled heap.

“Light him up!” Shots rang out as the two with guns emptied their clips into the man, turning and falling to the floor. One of them stepped up to the body, checking it. “Yeah, ain’t so tough now. Freaking kung-fu crap’s...uh…”

The bear of a man stood up, placing Rita on the ground gently.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded wordlessly, wide-eyed. “Good. You might wanna keep low.” he said, turning back to the helplessly staring teen. “I liked this shirt.” he growled, cracking his knuckles. The skin underneath the bullet holes was pink and unmarred beneath. His azure eyes grew bluer and brighter.

“Oh crap, he’s super! Run! R-” One of them tried to escape, shooting at him to get away.

He didn’t. A massive mound of muscle appeared before him, flicking a chop into the back of his neck, and he knew no more. A solid punch dropped the other thug, and then the giant turned to Vic.

“Don’t move! Don’t you move!” he shouted. He’d grabbed the hostess and drug her in front of him, holding his knife to her neck. “I mean it!”

“Okay, okay. There’s no need to be rash.” the man said calmly, holding his hands up. “But you have to see this’s a bad situation, and hostages will only make it worse. They’ll go easier on you if you give up.”

“Shut up! No talking! No moving!” Vic demanded, pressing the knife harder. She whimpered as a thin red line appeared.

“Okay, no prob.” the giant man said, pulling back.

“You! Money! Now!” he yelled at his hostage. She shook as she threw money into the box, and held it up. “No, you’re coming with. Just long enough we don’t got Mr. Hero here to accompany us, eh?”

“B-But-”

“Quiet! I ain’t going to jail, got it? I ain’t!” he snapped at her. He turned his head to do it. There.

It was only a second Vic took his eyes off the big guy, but that was more than enough. His knife was suddenly held by a steel vise, and then his hair was blown back by such a large hand moving so quickly.

“Sorry, can’t let you do that.” the big man said, plucking the knife from his hands as easily as a child’s. Pressing his thumb into it, he snapped the blade off like a toothpick. “Now. Wanna be a good boy and sit down, or...not?” he said ominously. He held up the gun he’d taken from the other one and crushed it in one hand like a soda can.

Vic whimpered as his knees gave out.

The diner erupted in applause as the man smiled triumphantly, collecting the gang members and throwing them in a groaning pile.

“Here you are. Sorry about the trouble.” the man said, handing the box of money to the hostess.

“You kidding!? That was amazing! Think you, thank you so much!” she said, putting the money back. “Uh...cinnamon bun? Please?” she offered.

“Why, thank you. Mmm! He was right to ask for these.” he said, gulping the whole thing in one bite.

“Thank you! I owe you my life!” Rita said, grabbing his hand and shaking it in relief. “I gotta ask, who are you? I’ve never heard of a super like you in Silver City.”

“Ah, well uh…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I’m uh, not actually a superhero, just a guy with powers. Not registered, see?” He grinned nervously.

“Ah, got it. Well if you ever do decide to, stop in sometime! We’d love to have you!” Rita said smiling.

“Maybe I will. Um.” The sounds of sirens drew closer, called by Tony at last. “Gotta go, I hear vigilantism’s frowned upon here. Later!” With a wave, he stepped through the door and jumped, the wind rushing past him as he leapt twenty stories easily. Using the roofs as landing pads, he hopped three more times, only slowing down when he was more than ten blocks away.

“Whew.” he sighed, landing in an alley at street level. His head went from side to side, scanning the area. Just a heap of trash next to a melting pile of snow. He relaxed and let go.

The giant promptly deflated, his multitude of mighty muscles shrinking and receding, leaving a skinny, slender body nearly a foot and a half shorter behind.

"Damn it!" he said, hitting the wall with a fist. He didn't mean to get involved. That life was behind him now. He grimaced, remembering the fear on the victim's faces, and sighed. Oh well, it was just one time. One time didn't mean anything, right?

He was still keeping his vow.

He could swear he could see his kibvaghn behind him, smirking as if knowing he’d fail. Well, he'd show them all. Then he remembered what happened in the restaurant, and sighed at his hoodie.

"Great. Just great. I liked this one." he grumbled. He glanced at his phone. About half an hour 'til his shift, he could hit up the Goodwill quick and hope he got lucky. He walked off, shaking his head and muttering to himself, examining the street signs to determine exactly where he was.

He didn't see the trash heap shift, and a feline head poke up from the bags to watch him go.