S-Supergirl!?

"Stop right there."

The voice rang out, clear, commanding, and feminine. Very feminine. The pizza guy's head snapped up. Standing in the doorway, hands firmly on her hips, was her.

Supergirl.

The small red skirt. The flowing cape. The golden "S" emblazoned across her chest.

The robber whirled toward her, gun raised.

Supergirl sighed. "Really?"

In a blur, in what felt like a snap, gun was in pieces. Pieces falling from her hand, just… dismantling in the air, screws and parts falling harmlessly to the floor. Every tiny insignificant piece that had been stripped.

The robber had no time to react before she was on him, gripping his jacket and hoisting him from his feet like he weighed nothing. He kicked, he roared, and it all ceased when her grip tightened. This woman was too much. She was as inhumane as Bane—no, more inhumane.

"Gotham's got enough problems without people like you making it worse," Supergirl said with a shake of her head.

The robber flailed. "L-let me go, man!"

"Oh, don't worry, I will."

With casual ease, she turned and marched toward the door. Just outside, a pair of cops had pulled up, no doubt responding to the silent alarm the pizza guy had definitely not remembered pressing. They were locals that often patrolled. The pizza guy got lucky.

No, wait, they cops got lucky. If it wasn't for Supergirl, things might have gone much, much worse.

Supergirl dropped the would-be criminal onto the hood of the cop car. "There. All yours."

The officers stared in stunned silence before quickly moving to apprehend the guy.

And just like that, the crisis was over.

The pizza guy, meanwhile, had not moved. He was still gripping the cash register, heart hammering, mind reeling.

Supergirl flew back into the store and did not exactly return to Earth. She looked down on him with that smile—the kind that looked like it belonged on a poster for hope and justice. "You okay?"

The pizza guy blinked. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

He was looking at Supergirl.

Supergirl.

In his pizza place.

"Oh—uh—y-yeah, I mean—wow. You—wow." He swallowed. "That was… that was amazing."

Supergirl gave a curt nod. "Thanks. Just doing my job."

His brain, still scrambled from the adrenaline, did the only logical thing it could think of.

"C-could I—uh—could I get an autograph?"

Supergirl raised an eyebrow before breaking into a laugh. "Sure!"

He scrambled for something—anything—to write on. In his panic, he grabbed a napkin. Supergirl took it, using the pen he shakily offered, and in neat cursive, wrote:

Stay strong! - Supergirl

The alien superheroine handed it back and he took it with the reverence of a man receiving a holy artifact.

"Th-thank you," he breathed.

Supergirl smiled again. "Anytime."

In a gust of wind, she was gone—blasting out of the store and soaring into the night sky, her red cape fluttering behind her.

The pizza guy stood there in his measly shop, napkin in hand, completely overwhelmed.

"Holy crap," he muttered, looking down at the autograph.

He had just met Supergirl.

And she was even hotter in person.