Tanya was tired. A long night of waiting tables at the diner will do that to a girl. She was at the end of her shift – a double – and the diner only had a few customers this time of night.

“Order up!” bellowed Sal, her husband of 9 years. He owned the place and ran the greasy kitchen. Sal was short on temper but once you got past the gruff exterior, there was a big old softy buried there.

Tanya was a bitty little bottle-blonde who wore a little too much makeup to hide the fatigue evident around her eyes. She was a worrier by nature and right now the bills were piling up, the diner wasn’t as busy thanks to the damn Denny’s that had sprung up a few blocks over.

Tanya sighed and went to pick up the order. As she neared the window, a red, pulsing light began to flash behind her left ear. Tanya stopped, walked to the till and removed a small, oblong object. She pressed a button, set it on the counter and walked out the door. Tanya’s hair whipped in front of her face as the diner exploded behind her.