“Order up!” The hustle and bustle inside the diner almost drowned out the sound of the bell. Like every Sunday, it was packed, with a line stretching around the building for those unlucky enough to hit the early rush.

Open 24 hours, Marlene’s Diner has become a neighborhood icon, with people from all over Century City arriving to partake in their signature item, waffles. Gluten-free, chocolate chip, tiger's blood, they had something for everyone, and people supported them because of it. Although, not everyone could be satisfied

“Do you want me to call the waitress over?” Even as Steve uttered those words, he immediately regretted them. He asked that question daily, and the response was always the same.

Sawing his fork through the giant waffle, Todd merely shook his head, grimacing as he took a bite of the starchy goodness he had waterboarded with maple syrup. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. I just wish they’d make the goddamn thing right the first time. How many times have we been here? Somehow they always screw it up.” Even as he grumbled about the conspiracies and secret wars being waged against him in the form of waffles, he continued to take another bite, the pain of doing so evident on his face.

Sighing, Steve, the only person able to put up with his presence, extricated himself from the stool, making his way around the counter into the kitchen. It was almost an everyday occurrence, a ritual he truly hated.

“The bastard is already complaining, is he?” Matilda Horn, her grey hair somehow falling to her ankles, greeted Steve as he passed through the cascade of beads that protected the holy sanctuary that was the kitchen. The greasy air caused his eyes to water as the business owner dumped another Monte Cristo sandwich into the deep fryer. 

“You know he’s just a little…” Steve started.

“Bitch.” Matilda finished the sentence for him, eyes twisted with rage. “That’s what he is.”

“You did spit in his food that one time, of course he’s paranoid.” Steve, always the peacekeeper, tried to remind the elderly woman of the escalating history between the two, only to be cut off by a sharp reply.

“That was Horatio, not me. He’s not even here anymore! He died.” Even as she argued, she came up to the window, slinging up another three orders of waffles before pointing down to the reject pile. 

Horatio, still alive, was working the grill, muttered something akin to “fuck Todd,” but was drowned out by the music surging in the background. There, amidst all the ruined items dropped by the waitresses during their busy shifts, was a lone waffle. “There’s the other one. Microwaved to utter ruination, just how he likes it. The fucking monster.”

“Thanks...” Grabbing it, Steve left, setting the waffle down in front of Todd.

“Did she spit in this one?” Todd didn’t even wait for an answer as he upturned the tumbler of maple syrup, exported straight from the motherland, Canada, onto the plate. 

Steve couldn’t help but notice how sluggish his friend was moving today, the jerky method he used to separate each mouthful from the rest, but he kept it to himself. 

Taking a sip of his coffee, Steve stared down at his plate. He had opted for the eggs Cumberbatch this morning, a local favorite, but his eyes had been bigger than his stomach, about three-quarters of it remained.

“I can’t believe she gave you that shit ton of hash browns,” Todd said. Without invitation, Todd stuck his fork into the pile, swirling it around as though he was trying to catch fish with a net, before withdrawing only a small bite. Sticking it into his mouth, he nodded thoughtfully. “These aren’t bad.”

With a dejected look, Steve pushed his plate over to Todd. Shaking his head, he wondered if he was going to be footing the bill this time or if, god help him, Todd had been paid this month. “Have at it, buddy.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Nah, I’m good,” Todd said. Leaning down over his plate, Todd began to decimate his remaining waffle, fresh from the microwave, focusing on it with a look of contentment even as the crowd outside became restless. “The second one is always better.”

Looking over his shoulder, Steve couldn’t help but appreciate the families lined up outside. Some had spilled over from the church next door while others were clearly out of their element, discussing amongst themselves if the food would truly be worth the wait or if another establishment was in their future. It put a smile on his face as he sent a wave out to the waiting crowd just as they were flooded with light and disappeared right before his eyes in a cloud of ash.

Todd looked over at him, eyebrow raised quizzically, as the others outside began to scream in earnest, bathed in the remains of their loved ones and strangers. The diner fell into stunned silence, unsure of what they had just seen. Todd and Steve floundered in their seats, making it to their feet as another beam of light drilled through the walls of the diner, heading straight towards them.

Todd’s gloved hands shot up in front of him, hastily catching the bolt of energy even as he began to slide back toward the counter. His sneakers squealed as he found himself unable to withstand the power behind the attack. The force staggered him as his hands began to creak, and with a howl of rage, he hurled it towards the ceiling, deflecting the sudden attack as he was flung back onto his stool.

“Do you think we’re gonna get called for this?” Even as Todd’s words left his mouth, their phones began to vibrate uncontrollably on the counter. “Maybe we can take the food to go?” His voice wavered with doubt as another beam raced towards the diner.

Finally coming to their senses, the customers and wait staff threw themselves under the tables, trying to shield themselves from what was coming, while the crowd outside scattered in every direction, attempting to escape the unexpected onslaught. Just as another bolt was about to slam into the building, it crashed against a hastily formed crystallized barrier, the two powers shattering on impact.

Steve could already taste copper in the air as he turned towards Todd, blood flowing freely from his nose, the cost of wielding his abilities, as he staggered to his feet. Straightening his jacket, he patted himself down before bringing the Bluetooth headset to his ear. Snarling over his shoulder, he said, “Save our seats.”

Steve already had the phone to his ear, whispering to dispatch as they left the building. A torrent of death was coming their way; stray bolts were already crashing into the old apartment buildings that surrounded them, but the pair remained cool and collected.

“Are you ready to be connected?” Steve asked, holding his hand over the receiver.

“Not really.” The volley of bolts stopped only a few inches away from them, dissipating against the shimmering barrier that Todd had hastily erected. 

  “This is SAT Coordinator Veronica, how may I help…” the voice trailed off as the line went silent. Todd and Steve shared a bemused look as they wove through the abandoned cars. “…fuck. Not you guys again.”

“Hello, Veronica,” Steve said, pleasantly surprised.

“I guess Sunday Brunch didn’t work out, huh?” Todd added, his eyes tracking a stray bolt as it shot past them, a smile on his face as an empty car blew up behind them.

“He was sick, so we got a raincheck,” Veronica said. The anger in her voice was apparent, but it didn’t stop them from sharing a knowing smile.

Todd mouthed the word sick as he dragged a finger across his throat. 

“Don’t joke about that,” Steve said. The cameras around them had been disabled, standard protocol for SAT to protect the identity of their assets, but that didn’t stop some of the more enterprising assets from securing the feed for themselves. Veronica was smart enough to track them and relay strategic information, something that both Steve and Todd could appreciate. With that type of information, even the slightest gesture would be noticed.

“How many targets are we looking at?” Steve cut in, breaking up the jovial atmosphere the two agents had shared.

“One gifted, and about thirteen meatheads with military-grade weaponry. They’re tangling with the cops now, roughly two blocks away from your present location.” Veronica shared. The information was already relayed to their communicators, detailing weaponry, position, estimated ability, and the number of enemy combatants.

It was rare for anyone with emission-oriented power to project their ability that far. A few feet was more than possible, but sending it more than that would be difficult for even the most powerful of gifted.

Exchanging a look, the pair couldn’t help but smile as they broke away from one another, Steve heading towards the nearest apartment complex, an expandable baton suddenly appearing in his hand as he spurred forward, while Todd made his way down the street, taking the low road. “Initiate protocol Alpha 3,” Steve said.