It's the weekend of the Super Bowl. Vic is looking forward to a quiet Saturday with his lover, but Matt has organized a party at their place for the big game and a trip to the grocery store is in order to stock up on drinks and chips.
At the store, they run into Mrs. Kowalewsky, their landlady. When a trio of ruffians terrorize the feisty old woman in the parking lot, Vic finds the superhero in him called to action.
The rev of motorcycle engines flared and three small bikes zoomed behind them, the last one so close that Vic felt his jacket tug in the biker’s wake. Harsh laughter rose from the three young men, helmet-less, who goosed the bikes around the edge of the parking lot. ::Fucking idiots,:: Vic thought, projecting the thought not only into his lover’s mind but those of the bikers’, as well.
If it bothered them, they didn’t show it.
The bikes revved as they circled the lot, zipping between parked cars and shooting across aisles with dangerous moves that made Vic’s stomach nauseous. They frightened the Spanish-speaking woman from the freezer aisle, heading for her car now, who stopped to clutch her small children closer as the bikers closed in. Vic felt something surge in him, something terrible, something deadly, and in his pocket, his hands curled into angry fists. ::Give me one reason…::
Matt’s presence soothed his mind. ::Vic, no. This doesn’t concern us.::
Then the first bike in the trio broke off from his friends, angling through the cars in the lot, heading for Mrs. K. Like rambunctious children, the other two bikes trailed after the first, engines gunning.
::Now it does.::