Before I could process it, the water exploded upward. A long, scaled arm shot out first, webbed fingers gripping the stone embankment with a strength that made the concrete groan. I caught the glint of sunlight on iridescent scales—green and blue hues flashing like precious gems. Then a second arm, and a head crowned with jagged spines and piercing eyes that locked onto the gathered crowd.

A collective gasp rippled through the bystanders. A few people stepped back, their faces shifting from curiosity to fear. Some fumbled for their phones, others murmured, “Is that real?” and “What the hell?”

My pulse kicked into overdrive, and I found myself setting my smoothie down without thinking. The creature—no, the merfolk—hauled itself out of the river, its muscular form towering above the onlookers, water streaming down its powerful frame.

This can’t be happening.

“FILTHY HUMANS!” it bellowed, voice grating like rocks grinding together. “YOU DARE TO POLLUTE OUR WATERS WITH YOUR WASTE AND TOXIC RUNOFF? DO YOU THINK WE ENJOY SWIMMING THROUGH GARBAGE AND CHEMICALS?!”

The merfolk jabbed a clawed finger toward an overflowing trash can a few yards away, the lid barely holding on. Plastic bags and wrappers spilled out like a piñata after a bad party. Some of the onlookers glanced at the mess, then quickly averted their eyes.

“HOW CAN YOU LIVE LIKE THIS?!” The creature’s voice cracked, the anger bleeding into something almost like pain. “EVEN IF YOU WANT TO WALLOW IN FILTH, DO YOU THINK WE DO TOO? YOUR TRASH AND YOUR WASTE FLOW RIGHT INTO OUR HOMES! OUR CHILDREN BREATHE IT IN, OUR ELDERLY SWIM THROUGH IT!”

I watched, frozen in place, as it continued its tirade. It wasn’t trying to start a fight—it was venting, maybe pleading even. Frustration and sadness weighed down its words. But The Calm’s invisible barrier held it back, keeping the rage from spilling over. Its aura tugged at the merfolk’s fury, weighing it down like a heavy mist.

“NO MORE!” The merfolk roared, shaking its head like it was trying to dislodge the invisible weight. “YOU THINK THIS IS OKAY?! YOU THINK THIS IS—”

The creature’s voice cut off, and it seemed to deflate slightly, shoulders slumping as The Calm pressed harder.

“IF WE COULD WALK ON LAND, WE’D THROW OUR TRASH RIGHT BACK AT YOU!” it bellowed, shaking a fist at the sky. “I SHOULD JUST—”

A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd as a lanky figure forced his way to the front. He was wearing what could generously be called a costume—cardboard panels painted a dull silver, with crinkled tin foil draped awkwardly over his shoulders and legs. It looked like a fifth-grader’s failed attempt at building a robot for a science fair. But what really stood out was the giant, hand-drawn “PP” emblazoned on his chest in thick, black marker.

I blinked. PP? Really?

Of all the possible hero insignias, he went with that? It was almost enough to make me feel sorry for the guy. Almost.

I snorted quietly to myself, wondering if there was some underground committee that handled this sort of thing. Because if there was, they definitely needed to up their game. The kid looked like he’d just walked out of a grade school play. Maybe a little worse for wear, but his chest was puffed out like he was ready to take on the world—or, in this case, an eight-foot-tall merfolk with claws sharp enough to carve through concrete.

The crowd shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the makeshift hero and the towering creature like they weren’t sure if this was part of the show or a disaster in the making. My gut told me it was probably the latter.

“Fear not, citizens!” the guy bellowed—or tried to. His voice cracked halfway through, like it hadn’t quite caught up to his bravado. “I, Power Paladin, will protect you from this evil creature!”

I blinked, half-expecting the merfolk to burst out laughing. But instead, it just lowered its claws and stared at the newcomer, eyes narrowing as if trying to process what exactly it was looking at. I couldn’t blame it. Even I wasn’t sure what I was seeing.

“PROTECT THEM?” the merfolk echoed, its voice laced with incredulity. “FROM WHAT? I’M JUST—”

But Power Paladin didn’t let it finish. He squared his shoulders and struck a pose that might’ve looked heroic if his costume didn’t resemble a DIY disaster. His arms trembled slightly, like he was holding himself together through sheer willpower. There was a fire in his eyes, though—a determined, reckless light that made my chest tighten.

Oh, no. He’s serious about this.

I shot a quick glance around, half-hoping someone—anyone—would step in and drag this guy away before things got ugly. But people just shuffled back further, murmuring to one another, their faces a mixture of fascination and fear. Typical. They’d rather watch the train wreck happen than stop it.

The merfolk’s confusion deepened. It looked at Power Paladin, then back at the crowd, then down at its own webbed hands like it was trying to figure out if this was some kind of elaborate prank.

I could almost hear Dr. Shaw’s voice in my head: “Boundaries, Dave. Remember your boundaries.” But before I could decide whether or not to intervene, the wannabe hero’s hand dipped into his pocket.

My stomach twisted into a knot as he pulled out a small vial. The glass shimmered in the sunlight, and whatever was inside glowed an unsettling shade of fluorescent orange.

What the hell is that?

Power Paladin raised the vial high, like he was about to make some kind of heroic toast. Then, with a reckless grin, he popped the cap and downed it in one gulp.

Oh, this isn’t going to end well…

A strange silence blanketed the riverfront as Power Paladin’s body began to change. It wasn’t a subtle, gradual shift but a sudden, jarring transformation that left everyone—including me—gawking in disbelief. His limbs thickened and stretched, muscles bulging beneath his tinfoil armor until he looked like he could bench-press a battleship. The air around him seemed to warp and shimmer, and a low, buzzing hum pulsed from his frame. The change was so intense that it felt like the very river was bending around him.

What the hell? A minute ago, this guy was barely holding it together. Now he stood there, radiating raw power, his presence practically humming with energy.

“THIS IS A PEACEFUL PROTEST!” the merfolk squealed, claws still outstretched but now trembling like leaves in a storm.

But Power Paladin didn’t seem to hear—or care. His grin widened into something unsettling, the kind of grin that screamed, I’m invincible. He tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck with a sound like a small explosion. Energy poured off him in visible pulses, rippling through the air and making the cobblestones beneath his feet vibrate.

I glanced around. People were no longer just curious—they were scared. Some backed away; a few darted into nearby shops. The ripple of fear spread through the crowd as quickly as Power Paladin’s transformation had taken place.

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Great, I thought, we’re about to have a full-on catastrophe. It wasn’t just his newfound strength that was disturbing—it was how The Calm, the tranquilizing effect of the riverfront, wasn’t affecting him at all. The Calm should have been reining him in, making it hard for him to unleash this kind of aggression. But there he stood, practically vibrating with barely restrained energy, as if The Calm was just a suggestion he chose to ignore.

“JUSTICE SHALL PREVAIL!” he boomed, his voice carrying over the hushed murmurs of the crowd. It was louder, more confident—like he’d stepped straight out of a comic book. And that’s when it hit me—he was narrating himself. Each word was punctuated with a dramatic pose, as if he were performing for an audience that only he could see.

Power Paladin thrust his arms out wide, fists clenched and shoulders squared. “VALOROUS STANCE OF THE RIGHTEOUS!” He flexed, muscles bulging under the tin foil and cardboard like a walking caricature of heroism.

Oh no.

He crouched low, the stones beneath his boots cracking under the pressure of his stance. “POWER PUNCH… ACTIVATE!” he roared, the words absurdly triumphant. His foot sank deeper into the cobblestones, and then, with a sound like a cannon shot, he launched himself forward, a blur of energy and momentum.

The merfolk’s eyes widened in pure terror. “WAIT—NO—THIS IS A—”

Too late. The merfolk barely had time to finish its plea before Power Paladin’s fist rocketed toward him, trailing a blinding streak of energy. The entire scene seemed to slow down, the crowd gasping as one. Time stretched thin as that single punch carried enough power to vaporize a building.

No time for doubts.

I didn’t even think. One second, I was by the window, my half-finished smoothie still sweating on the table, and the next, I was outside, sliding in between the two like a shadow.

The punch was a blur, aimed with enough force to level half the riverfront. Power Paladin’s face lit up with manic satisfaction as his knuckles careened forward.

“NOOOOO!” the merfolk shrieked, flinching back, webbed hands uselessly thrown up in front of its face.

“Not today,” I murmured.

I raised my hand, meeting his punch with a single, open palm. For a split-second, I felt the full weight of his entire momentum crash into me—a shockwave of pure force that should have blasted me clear across the riverfront and into the water itself. But I held my ground, unmoving, as the impact radiated outward.

A deafening BOOM reverberated through the air, the sound of a sonic wave tearing apart. The force of it whipped around me, a whirlwind of displaced air and energy that churned the water’s surface into a frothing mass. Then, in an explosive rush, a towering wave erupted from the river, cresting high above the opposite bank. Water cascaded down, crashing over the promenade like an avalanche, drenching onlookers and storefronts in a massive, icy splash. The wave surged back, flooding walkways and knocking over anything not bolted down. It looked like an amusement park ride gone horribly wrong.

Power Paladin’s eyes bulged in shock, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the hand that had stopped his punch cold. “Wha—”

“Easy there, buddy,” I said quietly, though I knew he couldn’t hear me over the roar of energy still swirling between us. The power I’d caught in that one hand was still thrumming, like holding onto a live wire. “This isn’t your scene.”

For a heartbeat, the entire riverfront stood still, as if the world itself had drawn in a breath. Water dripped from people’s hair and clothes, stunned faces turned toward us in awe.

And then, almost in slow motion, Power Paladin’s expression morphed from shock to outrage.

“YOU’RE WORKING WITH IT! YOU’RE AN ACCOMPLICE TO THE BEAST!” he shouted, his voice carrying an edge of righteous fury. His fists came flying again—this time faster, wilder.

“RIGHTEOUS FURY STRIKE!” He launched a flurry of attacks, each one punctuated by a ridiculous name. “JUDGMENT SMASH! VALIANT KICK OF JUSTICE!”

Oh, for the love of—

I ducked the first wild haymaker, stepped aside from the next, and then twisted my body just enough to let a powerful kick pass harmlessly by. He moved with raw, frantic energy, but his strikes were sloppy—born of strength, not skill. I sidestepped another punch, the ground shattering beneath his fist as it struck the cobblestones.

“Do you even hear yourself?” I called over my shoulder, dodging another furious jab. “This is a protest, not a battle royale.”

“LIES!” Power Paladin bellowed, swinging again. “I WON’T LET YOU PROTECT THIS MONSTER!”

I sighed. What would Dr. Shaw say right now? Something about restraint, no doubt. Sit with the discomfort, Dave. Easier said than done.

With a single, fluid motion, I slipped past his clumsy swing, closing the distance between us in the blink of an eye. My hand shot out—a precise, calculated strike—connecting with the nerve cluster at the base of his neck. The force of the blow surged through his entire body, causing every muscle to seize up at once. It lifted him onto his toes, his spine arcing as if he’d been hit by a live wire, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat.

For a heartbeat, he hung there—suspended between defiance and defeat, eyes wide with shock. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his body went limp. The fire in his eyes flickered out, and his limbs folded beneath him, crumpling to the ground like a marionette with its strings suddenly severed.

The world held its breath as he hit the pavement, the echo of the impact reverberating through the silent street. The tension drained from the scene, leaving only a hollow stillness in its wake.

The crowd let out a collective gasp, the tension in the air finally breaking. I glanced down at Power Paladin, watching the energy seep out of his muscles like air escaping a deflating balloon. His costume, already shoddy, now looked even more pitiful—just a guy wrapped in tinfoil and cardboard. I crouched and placed two fingers against his neck, letting out a small breath when I felt a pulse. Alive, at least.

I glanced around at the gathering crowd, my gaze locking onto a uniformed officer who was standing a few yards away, mouth agape. “Hey, officer,” I called out, giving him a nod. “Could you deal with this guy? He’ll be out for a bit, but he should be fine when he comes to.”

The officer blinked, then nodded numbly, stepping forward like he’d just snapped out of a trance. I shifted my focus back to the merfolk, who puffed itself up, clearly preparing to launch into another tirade. Before it could get a word out, I reached over, grabbed it by its slimy arm, and, with a smooth motion, pitched it straight into the river.

“HEY! THIS ISN’T—” Splash!

The water swallowed its complaints, ripples radiating outward as it disappeared beneath the surface. I heard a faint, gurgled “THIS ISN’T OVER YET!” drift up from below.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, dusting off my hands. “I’m sure it’s not.”

The crowd began to disperse, their voices a low murmur of shock and relief as the adrenaline bled out of the air. The tension that had gripped the riverfront moments ago now seemed almost surreal, like the aftertaste of a bad dream. I glanced down at Power Paladin, who lay sprawled and unconscious on the cobblestones, his once-pumped-up muscles deflating like a cheap inflatable at the end of a kid’s birthday party.

And that’s when I saw it—a faint, pulsing glow, half-hidden under the tattered remains of his costume. A small vial, barely the size of a shot glass, nestled against his side. It was the same ominous orange hue as the one he’d downed earlier.

Can’t leave that lying around.

I reached down and carefully picked it up, the glass warm to the touch. Whatever this stuff was, it had the power to turn a nervous wreck like him into a powerhouse—and apparently, make him immune to the river’s calming influence. Last thing we needed was another wannabe hero guzzling it down and going full-on berserker mode.

With a quick glance to make sure no one was watching too closely, I slipped the vial into my pocket, feeling its weight settle like a nagging question. Where did he get this stuff?

Brushing the water off my arms, I turned away from the riverfront, each step squelching in my soaked shoes. My half-finished smoothie was a lost cause—now probably some sad, watered-down concoction that even I wouldn’t bother finishing. Great. Nothing like wrecking a perfectly good drink to cap off a Wednesday morning.

But hey, at least the riverfront was still in one piece. For now, anyway.

I glanced back at the slowly dispersing crowd, shaking my head at the mess I’d left behind. It was getting late. If I didn’t get home soon, I’d lose any hope of getting my new inventory restocked for Maggie before the market closed. Then, maybe—if the universe had any mercy left—I could finally sneak in a nap. Because after dealing with muscle-bound tin foil hero wannabes, a little shut-eye sounded like the most heroic move I could make today.

With a resigned sigh, I turned my back on the lingering chaos. The day was slipping away, and if I didn’t hurry, I’d miss my window to restock Maggie’s inventory. I quickened my pace, shoes squelching with each step, already dreaming of the nap that waited for me once it was all over.