“Max! Order at table three! And table six is still waiting for their drinks!”

“Table two’s ready to go! We got any clean dishes? I need plates!”

“Family coming in, looks like a big one. Saw about eight.”

“Means a big tip, right?”

“Coming up!” Max MaCallister swiped the plates onto the serving tray, expertly balancing it with the two plates on his left arm. He brought the food and drinks to their respective tables in moments, placing each in front of the proper customer with uncanny precision. “Sorry for the wait, here’s your-”

“You can bet you’re sorry! Making us wait that long for this. And look!” The woman tore her hamburger in half, waving it in his face. “What is this!” Max squinted.

“Uh, it appears to be a burger, ma’am. Medium.” he said cautiously. She snorted.

“Medium rare! I ordered medium well-done! Take it back and get it right this time!” Max sighed as he saw Carlos get the big table. Carlos shot him an apologetic look, then jotted down the order. “Of course, ma’am. Right away.”

He groaned as the cook remade the burger, leaning on the stock shelf. The radio blared rock, making his head pound instead of wanting to bang. This night couldn’t get much worse.

“Ahh, these bastards don’t know how to cook. How ‘bout it? Tough crowd?” Alejandro said.

“And only getting tougher. Got in late. Missed a couple big tables, and now this absolute bitch.” Max said, cracking his neck. “Really could’a used those tips, too.”

“We all could. Get the trash awhile, it’ll be a minute ‘til the new one’s done. I should spit in it, heard her from here.” he said. Max shook his head.

“Nah, don’t do that. Nobody really deserves that, it’s gross-”

-“officials still searching for the unregistered super who interfered in the brazen daytime robbery of a local diner by members of the Devil’s Deal gang.” came from the radio, freezing Max on the spot. “Eyewitnesses describe the man as blond, very well-built, and over seven feet tall. Known powers are super strength and durability. Citizens are advised to be cautious, as with all unregistered supers. Police Chief Carson is grateful for the man’s assistance, but urges the unknown super to cease activities and come to the Silver City precinct to explain his side of the story.

“While we’re glad no one got hurt, any and all vigilantism cannot and will not be condoned in this city.” a woman’s voice came on. “We would like to remind everyone that supers can be incredibly dangerous without proper training and oversight. I’ve contacted Dirge, and he’s agreed to come back to investigate as well.”

“To hell with all of ‘em.” Alejandro said, noticing Max stiffen. “What, don't tell me you’re a super fanboy too, eh?”

“Sorta. I mean, I like watching them work, it’s neat. But I don’t really pay much attention to stuff like that.” Max said, pulling the bag from the can.

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“It’s better not to get mixed up with them. Nutjobs, the lot of ‘em. And watch out for the raccoons, they keep reading the dumpster!” Alejandro called as Max went down the hall. He sighed, stepping outside.

Great. Now Silver City’s best hero was on the case too.

It was his own fault, really. What else had he expected when he stepped in like that? Stupid, stupid.

It had shocked him to no end to learn that superhero was an actual profession once he’d made his way to Silver City. Ten years ago they were barely rumors that had just been uncovered and confirmed. He could still remember the day they formally announced that a guy in a jumpsuit with super strength was running around helping people in trouble. That turned out to be the Champion, the first public super on the record. He’d never forget that day; it was when he’d been taken, after all.

Max shook his head. No use in ruminating on the past. He was here, now. Back on Earth. Home.

After so long, the word was strangely bitter.

With another sigh he heaved the garbage into the dumpster. Back to work, and that-

“-oof!” -grunt of pain?

“What the hell?” he shouted, jumping back with his guard up. The garbage moved and shifted. How big were Silver City raccoons!?

A disheveled mop of brown hair came up, followed by green eyes. The kid rubbed his head.

“What was that for?” he snapped.

“Uh, sorry. Didn’t know you were in there.” Max said sheepishly. Then his brain caught up with him. “Wait, what the hell’re you doing in there! Get out, it’s dangerous and unsanitary!” The kid scoffed at him. “I mean it!” Max said, kicking the dumpster with a worn shoe.

“Alright, alright already. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” The kid climbed out and Max’s eyes widened. The boy was about twelve, and wearing ratty shorts with an undersized pair of plastic sandals, and a dirty, stained t-shirt that once might have been tie-dyed. The only protection he had from the elements was an old, frayed pea coat and a pair of gloves, one with a hole in the side. “What.” he said, more a challenge than a question.

“Oh, uh, n-nothing. I uh, I didn’t…” Max trailed off, glancing around awkwardly. “Uh. Sorry.”

“For what?” the kid asked.

“Um...I ah, didn’t know you were…”

“Homeless?” the kid deadpanned while Max was searching for the tactful word. “Don’t worry about it. Not your fault my life’s like this.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Look at the sky. The tree behind the fence. Shoes. Anywhere but at the kid’s eyes. “Y’know, it’s not great to sleep in a dumpster.”

“Wasn’t. Was looking for food. This place has good stuff, and it isn’t too bad if you get it quick enough. Been staking out this restaurant for the last hour.” he said.

“Err, right. Listen, I think there’s a shelter with a kitchen a few blocks east on…” Max began gently, but the boy violently jumped back, huddling behind the dumpster.

“NO! No shelters! No cops or heroes! No officials!” he cried, shaking. Max couldn’t tell if it was fear, anger, or desperation. He held up his hands.

“Easy, easy. Alright, no officials. Um.” The kid was shaking like a leaf. And he was so thin Max could practically hear his bones rattle. He sighed. His wallet, even as thin as it was, could spare one meal.

“Listen, don’t eat out of the garbage. You gonna be here in a couple hours? Cause I get free food, more than I can eat usually. Just goes in that dumpster if we don’t use it up. Want something warm?” he asked. The kid seemed on the verge of bolting, but now he wavered. “What do you want? A burger? Pulled pork? Turkey club?”

“Uh, pulled pork sounds good.” the kid said, practically drooling. Max smirked and nodded.

“Will do. Make sure you stick around, ok?”

“Got it.” he said. Max went back in, heaving the heaviest sigh all night. Silver City may have attracted a lot of high-end business, but its societal problems were worse than New York.

“Hey Alejandro, I need a pulled pork sandwich before I leave tonight, to go.”

“Roger Max!”

“And don’t spare the sauce, with a pickle on the side.” he added.

“I know better’n you how to make it. I’m putting in extra, you’re too skinny as is.” the chef tossed back, handing him the irritable woman’s extra-crispy burger.

“Thanks. More than you know.” he muttered, bringing the remade burger out. She assured him she would leave a bad review online, and after they left he was unsurprised to see no tip.