"I am supergirl, and I'm here to save the world. But I wanna know: who's gonna save me?" -Krystal Harris

I knew it was going to be a bad day when I got robbed at gunpoint before I even had a chance to get some coffee. I was already having a bad enough morning, but the whole "put your hands up or I'm going to pop a cap in your ass" thing just made it a billion times worse.

To start things off, our coffee machine was broken. This doesn't sound like a big deal, but let me just tell you no coffee equals one very bitchy me. When I found out I couldn't make my usual Folgers, I slammed my hand down on the counter and promptly got yelled at by my mother for having "unnecessary outbursts." I resigned myself to the next best thing. Starbucks. Although I'm not really a fan of paying six dollars for a cup of coffee, desperate times called for desperate measures which is how I found myself in the incredibly long drive thru line, squished between a Sedan and a station wagon. I was freaking out a bit when I saw the clock on my dashboard. 8:21. School was at 8:30 and this line was not moving at all. Sighing, I decided I was already going to be late so I might as well try to salvage some of my morning via Starbucks mocha blend.

As I was sitting there fiddling with the radio waiting on the impossibly slow drive thru to make some progress, a tap on my passenger window made me jump. A guy, looking totally freaked out was peering in my car. I slid into the passenger seat and debated on whether to roll down the window or not. One side of me argued "STRANGER DANGER." I know you're not supposed to talk to strangers, but the guy did look fairly distressed, and he didn't look skeevy or anything. He was wearing a really nice suit and tie, and some random part of my brain said, "Anyone with a suit like that can be trusted." So, against my better judgment, I rolled down the window.

"Can you give me a jump?" he asked anxiously. "My battery died just right over there."

"Sure." I reached for the door handle to get out, but as soon as I did, the guy whipped out a gun.

"Don't move," he threatened, pressing the gun right between my boobs, which was incredibly awkward. He didn't seem to notice. "I want your money not your life, but if you make a lot of noise, I'll shoot," he promised. I had managed to get at just the right angle so the car behind me couldn't see what was going on, which made signaling to them for help a surefire failure.

I know that being threatened with a gun should've made me feel scared, but inexplicably, I was more pissed that frightened. "Well isn't that just the pickle on the giant crap sandwich which is my morning," I muttered under my breath.

He looked confused, probably wondering why I wasn't shaking and handing him my purse. I kind of wondered that myself. "I-I'm serious," he said uncertainly. Using one finger, he turned the safety on the gun off with a click. All of a sudden the fear I had been lacking flooded through my body.

"Okay, okay," I said quickly before he could accidentally gun me down. It would say "shot through the breast" on my death certificate, and everyone would say, "Hey remember that chick that got shot in the boob?" for years afterward, and I just couldn't deal with that sort of reputation. "I'm going to reach over for my purse now," I warned him, hoping he wouldn't take it as a desperate escape attempt.

He nodded and I slowly reached over the seat. Before I could hand him my bag, he (and his gun) were jerked away from my window. The people in the cars in front of me were leaning out their windows and whispering excitedly, and someone in the car behind me was even snapping pictures with their cell phone. My breath caught in my throat. Could it really be him? Now that my attacker was gone and on the ground, I could see clearly. Standing there, giving him an ass whoopin' was a guy. He wasn't dressed up or anything, just cargo pants and a white T-shirt, but he was wearing the blue mask that I had seen oh-so often on the news. It really was him. Blue Blaze.

Blue Blaze was a hero. Literally. I'm talking flying, holding up buildings with one hand, saving kittens from burning buildings, stopping criminals in their tracks hero. The media used the term tacked on the prefix "super" but really it was all the same. A few months ago, he saved a group of kids in a burning building, and ever since then Blue Blaze was all anyone could talk about. Every headline in the area was about him, accompanied by a picture of his masked face. I had stared at his picture many times trying to figure out how his mask could be so effective at covering his true identity. All it was was a piece of blue fabric that tied at the back of his head with eye holes.

Now I could see his mask in live and in person, not four feet away from me, punching the wanna-be mugger in the face. It was weird, that he was out his, in suburbs New Jersey. He usually stuck to the New York area. Maybe he had some kind of mugger sense. I wouldn't be surprised. Finally, I guess his arm got tired or something so he stopped hitting the man. The guy wasn't moving around too much and I was a little worried for his safety when I remember that he had just tried to shoot me. As I was wondering whether I should feel sorry for him or not, Blue Blaze came over to my window. He leaned against the side and poked his head in a bit.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern written all over his mask.

I'm not going to lie, I almost started hyperventilating at being addressed directly by the famous Blue Blaze. I had to take a deep breath, which thankfully he interpreted as shock at being held at gunpoint. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said finally. "Thank you so much."

"No problem," he grinned. "I didn't catch your name."

Oh crap, oh crap. His presence was making me a bit lightheaded. What was my name? At that point, I couldn't for the life of me remember. After a few seconds, it came to me. "Callie," I breathed. "Callie Robbins."

"Nice to meet you Callie," he said, awkwardly sticking his hand inside the car. I shook it, wondering if I was dreaming. He had really big hands. I couldn't help think about the whole big hands, big---oh my God. I couldn't believe I was thinking about his you-know-what. I disgusted myself sometimes. He began speaking and I had to chase several mental pictures out of my head to focus. "I'm---"

"Blue Blaze," I finished for him, laughing nervously. "Yeah, I know. Who doesn't?"

He grinned an impossibly gorgeous grin again and I melted inside a little bit. "Are you sure you're okay? I wouldn't want a pretty girl like you getting hurt."

My small intestine did the Mexican hat dance with my stomach at being called pretty by none other than Blue Blaze. He was about my age, so it wouldn't be statutory rape if---holy crap. I wish they made muzzles for your mind. Just as I was pondering that, I was struck with a horrible thought. What if he could read minds? By the way he was half smirking half smiling at me, it wasn't entirely impossible. "Ca-can you read minds?" I asked, fervently praying he'd say no.

"Uh-uh," he said shaking his head. "Just flying and super strength," he added, flashing his muscles at me. I tried not to swoon; instead I let out a sigh of relief. "Why?" he asked, his smile widening mischievously. "What are you thinking?"

"Uh, nothing," I said a little too quickly. He didn't buy it, so I decided that was my cue to leave. "Thanks again for saving me," I said sincerely, sliding back into the driver's seat and flicking the ignition on. "I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," he said happily. "See you around." With that he grabbed the unconscious robber by the shirt then pushed off the ground with one foot and disappeared into the air, leaving everyone at the drive thru, me included staring up to the sky at his retreating figure.

Coffee forgotten, I pulled out of the line and headed towards school. My friends were never going to believe this.

Author's note:

Well. I was watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with my small cousin today and I was like, "How cool would it be if there were real superheros that weren't talking turtles wearing gay pride headbands?" and then I wrote this. So yeah! :D Yeah, I know Blue Blaze is a stupid name, but really, what superhero name isn't? ALSO I know the "Not Your Grandma's Justice League" name is awful. Any suggestions for a new title? ;p Sorry it's a bit short, hopefully chapters will get longer as I go along. Ummmm, that's about it. Thank you for reading and (hopefully! :p) reviewing!

EDITED. Sort of. I reread this after I posted it and caught lots of little grammar-y things, so this has been SORT OF EDITED.

-Annalise.