Crime And Coffee

By Evelyn Johnson

I staggered into the kitchen, pulling on the white-gray shirt of my superhero suit and accidentally jamming my toe against a chair. “Ouch!”

Behold, the mighty hero Shields, sans coffee.

With the shirt on properly—never mind, it’s on backward—I jabbed a button on the coffee maker. Gurgle, gurgle. I slid a mug under the dispenser part, then stepped away and switched on my radio-turned-police-scanner.

“Robbery underway at the Hawks City Bank. Two armed suspects—”

“No!” I shouted. “No crime before coffee!”

“—holding the tellers hostage. Requesting backup. Someone get word to Shields.”

The coffee maker continued to rumble. I stared at it helplessly, then rubbed my eyes and mumbled, “Why does everyone think I can just snap my fingers any hour of the day and stop crime? I can’t even think straight before coffee.”

The scanner crackled again. “There’s more gunshots, but I can’t see what’s going on! Where’s Shields?”

I threw up my hands. “On my way, I guess!”

One final glance at the traitorous coffee maker confirmed it was still brewing, and nowhere near done. I marched out the door and blasted into the sky, summoning a mist shield to protect me from the wind. The city blurred below, either from my speed or from the lack of caffeine in my blood.

I blinked hard. “Gotta keep it together until I can get some coffee…”

A bang drew my attention toward the Hawks City Bank, and I angled myself down at the domed building. The street rushed up to meet me. I leveled out with a yawn, flying clumsily through the bank’s open entrance.

Two masked men stood at the teller’s counter, shoving handfuls of bills into a large blue duffel bag. A few civilians cowered in the corner.

Everyone froze when my feet hit the floor.

“Look,” I snapped, “I haven’t had my coffee yet, and I’m not about to muck around with a few petty criminals like you. Drop the money and get on the floor, hands behind your heads.”

The robbers glanced at each other, then at me.

I gritted my teeth and conjured mist shields around my hands. “If you don’t do it right now, I swear I’ll blast you through the roof and drop you a hundred feet into the nearest swimming pool. I’m tired and hungry and I need caffeine, and if you stand in the way of that, so help me—”

Both men flopped to the floor, spraying money everywhere. One of them whimpered.

Well, that was fast.

“And stay down.” I turned and shuffled outside. A few police officers met me on the front steps.

“Did you get them?” one asked.

I nodded.

A grin broke out on his face. “Thanks for your help, Shields! We’ll take care of them from here.”

The radio on the officer’s uniform crackled. “Hey, someone called in a bomb threat at a coffee shop down on Seventh Street. Could you send Shields over to check it out?”

I groaned. Bomb threat? Really?

The officer raised an eyebrow as he absorbed my horribly disheveled appearance. “Actually, I think Shields might have to pass on this one. I can call HQ and get a team down there. Coffee shop on Seventh, right?”

My brain caught up with my ears. “Wait, wait.” I held up a hand. “Did you say coffee shop?”

The radio answered, “Yes sir. It’s called The Sassy Mug.”

“I’m on my way!” I rocketed skyward before the officer could say another word. Blessed bomb threat! I may not have to wait for caffeine after all!

Seventh street was a few blocks south, in the suburban district. I swooped closer to the ground, scanning the shops along the street for The Sassy Mug. I spotted it on the right, nestled between an insurance broker and an antique shop.

My landing was smoother this time.

I shouldered open the door, and the smell of freshly roasted coffee wafted over me. A nervous-looking barista shuffled over. “Thanks for coming, Shields. We got a really vague bomb threat a few minutes ago, and I’m not sure what to do. I mean, I called the police, but—”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It’ll only take me a minute to find and deactivate the bomb, if there is one. In the meantime, could you make me a large black coffee?”

Her brow wrinkled. “Uh… sure.”

She headed to the counter and started preparing my drink. A couple of customers watched as I warmed up my mist powers. Assuming I could maintain focus, the mist should pinpoint any potential threats, leading me straight to the bomb.

A tendril of grayish vapor snaked away from my hands toward a decorative vase. I sauntered over to it, trying to look casual as I peeked inside.

A little gray box stared back at me.

Bingo. I summoned more mist, wrapped it around the box, and compressed it. A short crackle-pop and a muted flash followed.

Ta-da.

The barista reappeared with my drink. “Did you find it?”

I took the coffee—wow, it smelled good—and jerked a thumb at the vase. “See for yourself. The Sassy Mug is safe.” I tipped back the sixteen-ounce paper cup. Hot liquid burned my tongue and throat, but I didn’t care.

“Thank you, Shields! You’re a real beacon of hope to this city.”

“Nah. I’m just an ordinary, everyday superhero.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Ordinary or not, you are a hero.”

I considered her words as the caffeine kicked in. “Thanks. For the coffee and for the encouragement. You’ve definitely made my morning.”

I headed out of the coffee shop and blasted skyward, coffee still in hand. The barista’s words echoed in my head as I scanned the city below for more dangers.

“This is more like it,” I said, grinning to myself. “Crime after coffee.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Evelyn Johnson loves making people laugh. She’s also a snark master, the weirdest homeschooler in Wisconsin, and (not-so-secretly) an elf. She enjoys a good cup of black tea and, as a certified nerd, will talk your ear off about her favorite fandoms. When she’s not arranging epic music on the piano or drawing fantasy maps, she’s studying entrepreneurship and the art of writing at the Author Conservatory. 

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