"I'd like a black coffee, please." The young man said politely. The nice lady behind the counter smiled, and was just about to provide him with his order when the roof caved in.

This would surprise most people.

"Damn." Andrew said, without changing expression. He picked his way through the rubble to the door, and stepped out into the street. He looked around for another place that would sell him some coffee.

"Stampede! Stampede!!" Screamed a man, running down the street. Forty-seven llamas were right behind him. Andrew sighed, and stepped into a neighboring bank until they had gone past.

"Excuse me, I know this is a little odd," he said to a surprised teller, "But would there be any coffee around? You see, I-"

"This is an armed robbery!! Everybody be quiet and maybe we won't hurt you!!" A masked man screamed from the doorway. Two more, very large, masked men were standing behind him. All three of them were holding guns. This is, of course, fairly standard for those attempting an armed robbery, but the guns should nevertheless be mentioned at this point, to avoid confusion later.

There's going to be confusion anyway, you understand, just not over the existence of the guns.

"Um, not to interfere, but-" Andrew started. The first man immediately bounded across the room and tried to insert his gun into Andrew's left nostril.

"SHUT UP!!" He screamed. "THIS IS A ROBBERY, AND YOU GOTTA BE QUIET, OR I'LL SHOOT YOU, GOT IT?!?!?"

In the interests of saving time, Andrew nodded. He wasn't particularly frightened of guns, especially not right now, but the sooner the man finished his little heist, the sooner coffee could be found and drunk. The man appeared to be satisfied.

"You!!" He exclaimed, pointing the gun at a frightened teller. "Fill this bag up with money!!"

"Er... what bag, sir?" The man quavered.

"This one in...my...pocket...!!" The man fumbled around in his pocket. "It was right there!!" He complained. Andrew noticed with fascination that the man could actually trail off with exclamation marks.

"Boss? Sumpthin' wrong?" One of the goons managed. Andrew was impressed all over again at the fact the man had used a two-syllable word - even if he hadn't gotten it quite right.

"No!!" Boss insisted. "You!! Find a bag and put the money in it, or I'll shoot you!!" The teller nodded hastily and began looking for a bag. Eventually, he located a nice brown paper one, which had his lunch in it. He tried to tip it out...which, since it was a container of soup, proved to be a less than wise move.

"Hurry UP!!!" Boss screamed, jumping up and down.

Andrew was getting annoyed. This silly little man was keeping him from getting his coffee. "Excuse me, but can I go?" He asked, not terribly hopefully. "You see, I'm a mut -"

"HE'S A MUTIE!!!! SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM!!!!" Boss howled. All three pointed their guns at him and pulled the triggers.

There was a single, forlorn click.

Immediately preceding the noise of twenty-three local cops coming in to collect their pay, seeing three armed masked men, and all trying to arrest them at the same time.

Andrew took the opportunity to sneak out the door. He could have sworn he'd seen a coffeeshop across the way...ah. There it was. He ignored the symphonic screams of twenty-three police officers who had done their duty to the public only to find that their paychecks had all bounced.

"Ah." He smiled, stepping in and sniffing at the heady aroma of roasting beans. "Excuse me? Could I have a double-espresso, please?"

"Certainly." The man said, producing the required drink in a commendably short space of time. "Here you are, sir. That'll be-"

A short, hairy man in blue-and-yellow spandex came flying though a wall, knocking the cup out of Andrew's hand, knocking the counterman over, and, most importantly from Andrew's point of view, knocking every single coffee machine off the bench and breaking all of them.

"Sorry." The man grunted, and then popped six nasty looking claws out of his forearms. "That the best ya can do, Creed?"

Another man, a tall one with blond hair and an orange-and-brown, fur trimmed aerobics outfit, barged in the door and snarled something unintelligible. On his way to, Andrew guessed, kill the first man, he took a swipe at the poor counter guy.

Only he missed, due to slipping in the small puddle that had, seconds earlier, been Andrew's much pined for cup of coffee. The short man immediately jumped on the tall one, and started trying to chew his face off - at least that was what it looked like. Then the tall one escaped and took off through the door to the shop's kitchen, which, in the course of the ensuing battle, the two men smashed up quite thoroughly

Andrew closed his eyes and cursed for nearly five minutes without stopping. Then he turned and walked out of the shop, and over to a man holding a familiar sort of styrofoam cup. "Hello." He said clearly. "I am a mutant. I need coffee now, or my powers will continue to rage unchecked and ruin everyone's Monday."

"Yeah, sure. Get your own coffee, pal!" The man said rudely.

"Suit yourself." Andrew said distantly. He turned and walked away, not bothering to turn around when the rude man slipped in a puddle and broke his leg. He had, Andrew felt, been fairly warned.

Nearing desperation, he looked around for ANYWHERE else that looked as though it might be able to supply him with caffeine. The entire street was a shambles.

"Hey, Andy, what's wrong?" Came a cheerful voice from behind him. Andrew turned, to see the smiling face of his friend and favorite hotdog vendor, Frank.

"Coffee." Andrew managed through clenched teeth.

"I figured." Frank agreed, handing his friend a grubby thermos. Andrew grabbed it and downed the contents in three gulps. "I saw the llamas." Frank explained. "I knew it hadda be you. Forgot our bedtime espresso again, did we?"

"Not exactly..." Andrew shrugged ruefully, handing the empty thermos back. "I made the terrible mistake of going home with a woman who wasn't a coffee drinker. A fact I didn't find out about until this morning." He sighed in relief as the caffeine coursed through his bloodstream, bringing his mutant power back under control. "Thanks, Frank. I owe you one."

"Ah, forget it." Frank shrugged, absently levitating the thermos back into its little holder on the side of his cart. "What're friends for?"