"Uh, hello?" said the mayor's nephew, timidly raising a hand as a greeting. His eyes, which were partially covered by his messy brown hair, darted in every direction, except ours. "My name...I'm Yves. Yves that's spelled with a 'Y'."

"Hello," Deen curtly replied. She faced the other way, making it clear he wasn't welcome.

"I'm Yves," he repeated. "What's your name?"

She refused to answer, choosing to keenly examine the wall to her side filled with black and white photos from the diner's past. I followed Deen's lead and didn't reply either, poking my waffle with a fork. Not that I was the one being asked the question. I doubted if this Yves guy cared for my name.

This did confirm these guys didn't recognize Deen.

Undoubtedly, The Amber Deen Leska was familiar to every guy going to Eloyce Field University, whether they be undergrad or grad students—every guy who cared about beautiful women anyway, which was most of them. However, Deen was always in her corporate attire for law school, with fall on makeup and hair divinely styled. I already had a hard time recognizing her when she didn't wear any makeup and just donned casual clothes, how much more would guys who didn't have the expert skills required to see through women’s makeover capabilities?

"The hell, Yves?" yelled Goatee Guy, furiously thumping their table with his palm. "What the fuck kind of limp-dick opening is that?"

"Go on!" said another upperclassman—Yves’ upperclassman, not mine—whom I hadn't made a nickname for yet. I decided to go with Coconut Head because of his atrocious haircut that made him look like he had half a coconut husk as a hat. He continued egging on the timid kid. "Don’t be shy. Ask for her number!"

I tilted my cup. It was half-full, but it wasn't that hot anymore. Still good for splashing on people. Deen's cup of coffee was mostly untouched. How I dearly wished they bothered us some more so I could throw tea at them. That was a cliche move in drama movies—I didn't usually watch those, but I couldn't deny there was an oomph to it. Very dramatic.

Yves scratched the side of his neck. "Um, sorry for the...sorry for bothering you. If it's alright with you, can I…can I…”

"No," Deen shortly said.

Yves flinched at that. He gave a panicked glance at the other guys, turned back to Deen, and tried his question again. “Um, can I ask fo-for your nu-number?”

“No.”

"We're eating here," I added in. I almost felt sorry for this kid. And yeah, he was a kid in my eyes. He was a first-year undergraduate student, so I was like an ancient dinosaur compared to him.

I could tell he wasn’t scared of Deen specifically, perhaps a little intimidated, but he was extremely uncomfortable with bothering her. He was really scared of the other guys though, that much was clear, which was why he was doing this despite not wanting to.

"Oh, right," said Yves, stepping away. "Sorry about that." He returned to his friends—if they could be considered that—who laughed at him. They slapped his back and pushed him around a bit before allowing him to sit again.

They shouted tips at him on how to get girls; their advice had dubious applicability. The old lady tending the counter came over with a mop and told them to shut up. One of the truckers stood to help the grandma if trouble cropped up, but the jerk squad already quieted down.

"I thought they already did away with pledging," Deen muttered. "Or are the first years already considered part of the fraternity, and this is just the usual bullying by more senior members?

"ACO did? They removed pledging?" As far as I knew about fraternities, and I knew very little, applicants would start as a pledge, a probationary member, and they'd be accepted as a regular if they passed all the challenges. I was aware of the dark side of pledging, the hazing, drugs and alcohol-related incidents, all the bullshit dumb guys could come up with.

"There was an incident like six or seven years ago—I'm not sure if you've heard of it, but it was all over the news that time—about pledges forced to do Adumbrae-summoning rituals."

"Huh? Do those work?" Okay, that probably isn't the right question. "What kind of pledging system is that? Why not the usual nonsense hazing they do?"

"Well, I don't think those rituals work. Likely, they're just urban legends. I have no idea why they chose to do that though."

"So what was that incident about?"

"Rumors were that they actually summoned an Adumbrae," said Deen. "A pledge turned into one and killed everyone else in the room. The school covered it up, saying there was a gas explosion—this wasn't the Eloyce Chapter of ACO Frat, by the way. Videos of BID agents investigating the school circulated after that, so there was probably something connected to Adumbrae that happened. Anyway, so that's why, last I've heard, ACO removed the pledging process."

"So, they're fraternity brothers now, right?" I said, tilting my head at the screeching baboons.

Deen nodded. "Supposedly…"

"But they're still treating him like that?" During my first year in business school, I had a few classmates who were pledges to a fraternity. There was a drastic change in how they were treated by the fraternity they applied to as a pledge and as a member.

What was the appropriate reaction here again? Oh, yeah. Poor kid...I finally managed to think, looking at Yves with his shoulders hunched, sitting at the edge of the bench.

That was the emotion of pity, wasn't it? A nice approximation. I deserved a pat on the back. It was rare to find myself in these sorts of social settings; my curiosity was slowly taking over the intense annoyance that filled my head. Perhaps the great food helped to lift my mood too.

So, let me get this straight.

Pity for the bullied kid, check. Annoyance at the senior frat members, um, check?

Or should I be annoyed at their group as a whole? Remembering Myra's reaction to the guys at Cindy's ogling Deen, I realized I had fallen short as a best friend. I should be popping these guys' heads off as soon as I got my Adumbrae power back—and that was just a joke even though I wanted to do it.

Deen wouldn't be on board with offing these bastards. It'd be funny if I managed to convince her though. I say I'd be doing her a favor, finally being able to fight back against those harassing her. What was the word? Cathartic?

But then again, killing them was too much.

Not just for Deen, but also Rule #4.

Although…if they keep this up, I just might find justification.

The asshole brigade wasn't done with their antics yet. Skull Tattoo Bro sent over the other two first years, one by one, to try their luck with us. Or rather, to make fun of them while harassing us.

Their names were Tahir and Lee, or something like that. I wasn't really paying attention because I was busy enjoying the apple pie—I did have to rake off the crust to eat it first. Both the crust and the apple filling were so great that I had thoughts of ordering a whole one for takeout. Not the time, Erind.

Unlike Yves, Tahir and Lee were more confident; they had the looks and charisma to pull it off, compared to the mayor's nephew. But Deen shot them down just the same, a veteran of shooting down probably dozens or even hundreds of guys—I don't know if there were any gals—hitting on her. They all returned defeated to their table to the entertainment of their seniors.

About a quarter of an hour had passed and things settled down.

Or so we thought.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Deen and I were right about finished with our meal, with most of the eating done by yours truly. It was also the time the truckers left the diner to resume doing trucker stuff. And with them gone, Skull Tattoo Bro and the dick troop were probably emboldened to resume bothering us. This time, it was Skull Tattoo, Bro Goatee Guy, and Coconut Head that came over, ready to show the freshies what they got. I placed the dinner knife on my lap and out of view.

"Hey, girls," Coconut Head said, in between mouthfuls of his burger. "Where you headed to? Want us to accompany you?"

Deen shook her head. She looked me in the eye to signal we shouldn't talk to them.

"Come on, Blondie," said Goatee Guy. "Don't treat us like we're not here. How about you scoot over there, so I can sit beside you?"

Deen tensed up. She looked around for help. But the only ones here were the guy reading a newspaper at the counter, who seemed to purposely ignore what was happening, and the two old men. The granny and her daughter weren't there. Where they inside the kitchen? The backroom? So that was why these fucking assholes decided to approach us.

"That's ungenlet-un-ungentlemanlike...fuck, I'm stumbling over my words." Skull Tattoo Bro draped his hands on the booth divider behind Deen. "That's because you're so pretty, Blondie. Why don't you talk with us?"

I checked my tea. Fuck, I drank it all. I couldn't do the splashing-people-with-liquid-move. I gripped my fork. Superstrength wasn't back yet. But I was prepared to stab these fuckers if they pushed their luck. Gotta watch out for my bestest friend ever.

"You got a boyfriend, Blondie?"

"Want one? We got three eligible ba-ba—" Goatee Guy puked something nasty on the floor. "What was I saying?"

"We're three bachelors."

"But you're not available?" Coconut Head said to Skull Tattoo Bro. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"

Knife and fork, I could probably remove some eyeballs even though I was a short and petite woman. The element of surprise would be on my side, and these guys wouldn't be in a condition to give chase. Stab, stab, pull Deen.

And then go where? They might've slashed Deen's tires. But we could still drive away with busted tires. Or, we could run to the kitchen and lock ourselves in?

"Bachelors...means not married...I'm not fucking married...so I'm available." Skull Tattoo Bro tried to reach for Deen's hair. She recoiled from him and moved further to the end of the bench. They laughed after getting a reaction from her. "Don't be shy now..." He tried to sit on the bench but fell down.

The time for action was coming close. They weren't looking at me. I gripped a knife and a fork under the table. It'd be hard to pull Deen out and run because they were blocking the way.

Maybe I could guilt the first years into stopping their seniors? Yves wasn't looking at us. Tahir was talking to him about something. Lee was filming us with a huge stupid grin on his face. Scratch that plan then. I'll just attack first and see how things—

"Hold it right there, young men," a sandpapery voice said. The old men chatting at the counter came to help us. "Leave these nice ladies alone."

Good, some distraction. A scuffle between the grandpas and the assholes would provide an opening for us to escape. But I still wanted to stab some eyes.

"We're just trying to have a good time here, gramps," said Goatee Guy. "Just return to a retirement home, will you?"

"You disrespectful rascals!" The old man's quivering finger pointed right at Goatee Guy's ratty face. "Didn't your mothers teach you to be respectful to your elders?"

"But we're being respectful," Skull Tattoo Bro said as Coconut Head helped him off the ground. "Ugh, the world's fucking spinning. Need some coffee."

"If you brats don't have anything else to do here, get out!" Grandpa One said. "Get out and don't bother these ladies!"

Grandpa Two added, "Or we'll call the police!"

That's useless, I thought. Threatening to call the police wouldn't work to stop these guys. There was no police station nearby. Cops would be coming from outer space, taking ages to arrive, if there were any to send here. These assholes wouldn't cave to something like—

"Fine!" Skull Tattoo Bro said. "We're leaving. Happy now, gramps?"

Excuse me? Just like that, they were giving up? They couldn't leave! I didn't have my dramatic moment yet. I didn't have any justification to stab them. And I did want to stab them for bothering us all the way here. I needed something for Rule #4.

"You heard the big man," Goatee Guy said to the freshies. "Off your asses. We're going."

"Yeah, we don't want these old guys here to have a heart attack. No issues here, gramps."

"Move along." Grandpa One gestured his gnarled hands towards the door. "Glad you have some sense left in you."

"We're just getting to know Blondie here." Skull Tattoo Bro said, winking at Deen. "See if she has a boyfriend. You didn't have to make a big deal out of it, gramps."

And then it clicked in my head. The perfect way to escalate the situation.

"She doesn't have a boyfriend," I blurted out. All of them—Deen, the dick squad, and the grandpas—looked at me in surprise as if I had just popped into existence. "She doesn't have a boyfriend, because she already has a girlfriend. And that's me!"

“Huh? Wha-?” Deen's eyes widened in shock. Then her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What are you...?"

The eyes of the three cockroaches also widened, but I knew what was going on in their heads. Skull Tattoo Bro rubbed his hands. "Nice! Got some girl-on-girl action going on? Love me some of that."

"Love to be between that!" Goatee Guy chimed in. The three dirtbags laughed their asses off.

"How about a picture with you, girls, huh?" Coconut Head took out his phone and moved forward, but Grandpa One stopped him. "Chill with the cockblocking, old man!"

"You damned brats disrespect your elderly, and women, you should—how dare you raise your hands at me!"

Skull Tattoo Bro clenched his fist and was poised to punch Grandpa One. "I got enough of your shit, gramps."

"Hey, what're you doing?" said Tahir.

Lee tried to pacify Skull Tattoo Bro. “We shouldn’t do—”

“Shut the fuck up!”

It was at this moment the freshies realized things had gone too far. Kind of late already.

Better late than never I supposed.

Once the shitstorm started, I was going to stab these bastards. A fork and a knife. That was two eyeballs at the least. Weirdly, I was extremely calm through all of these, enjoying myself a little. My experiences as an Adumbrae really changed my perspective. I was a normal human right now, and very weak, but so long as I didn't die before the Suppressor wore off, I was good.

"Get out of the way, gramps. I swear imma hit your wrinkled face!"

"Stop! Stop!" Deen exclaimed, raising her hands. Such a good person, worried about the elderly. She wanted to get out of the booth to get in between them but Goatee Guy tried to grab her so she retreated.

"Irene! Natalie!" Grandpa Two was probably calling out to the owner and her daughter. The man reading the newspaper had hurried out of the restaurant. "Back off, you bastards!" He swiped a fist at Goatee Guy who stepped back and stumbled into Tahir and Lee.

"The fuck?"

"Knock down that old man!"

"Stop that!" Deen threw her coffee at them.

Aw, I wanted to do that, I exclaimed in my head. Fucking Deen, stealing my limelight. No matter. I'd have my moment. I just needed the actual fighting to start. Just a bit more until fists connected. A bit more—

"Grayson, back off!" a commanding voice boomed. Skull Tattoo Bro, who was apparently named Grayson, jolted in shock upon hearing the voice. He retreated away from the old men. All of us turned to the diner's entrance to gaze at the knight in shining armor who came to save the day.

Action Hero—that was what I decided to call him—was born to be on the poster of all action movies. He was more than six feet tall, muscles straining against his white Alpha Chi Omega shirt, a squared strong jaw and a typical stoic expression. I wouldn't be surprised if fans suddenly showed up to ask for his autograph. Or if explosions suddenly flared behind him.

"Enrico? I thought you were at the party?"

"Hey, Enrico! Check out these girls—"

"Dude, don't tell him that!"

Action Hero marched forward. If this was a movie set, all lights would be on him. "What do you think you're doing here, Grayson? I'm tired of covering up for you." He glared at the other ACO members. They cowered before him. "And that goes for all of you! Don't stir up shit and stain ACO's name. How many times this has been already?" He pointed at the door.

For a moment, Skull Tattoo Bro looked as if he was going to start fighting again. But he lowered his fists and sullenly told his brothers, "Come on. Let's bail."

Enrico, the Action Hero, stared at their backs before turning to us. He apologized to the old men and asked how they were. After making sure they weren't hurt, he faced Deen and me, bowing low. "I sincerely apologize this happened."

"Thank you for helping us," Deen said. She was still holding her cup.

"You're a good young lad," Grandpa One said. "You tell your hard-headed friends to respect women and their elders!"

"I will. Again, I'm sorry for everything." And he strode off, the proverbial spotlight following him.

Huh? That's it?

What just happened there? In a couple of minutes, he smoothened out everything. And also derailed my stabby-stabby plans.

I looked down at my arm and poked myself with the dinner knife. It slightly bent as I exerted force. My super strength and durable body were back.