Devon frequented City Hall in the past, though it had been a few years since those days. He typically avoided the area around the World Trade Center - tourists and emotional impact and all - but there was a lot to do this far downtown and certainly he had the occasional need in the financial district. The Four Seasons often held fundraising and political events. The Woolworth building had its shares of events. All of New York City had a story to tell, but some of these streets had more than others.

In his return he’d sought to find the right church to begin attending again. A few conversations with a Father Lorenzo of St. Peter’s Church and Devon was inspired to make a trip, not to attend services - though he would the coming Sunday - but to a silent auction and luncheon that was being held not far from the church. It was to raise money for community activities with items donated by various local businesses as well as allow some social interaction for the congregation. Considering some of the parishioners were influential and well to do there were a few wonderful items and some high fundraising expected from the event.

Dressed in a simple pair of black trousers and a black button-down, Devon entered without fanfare. As he stood in line to check in his coat, he gazed about the space. The event hall had a large area devoted to a stage, a small dance area, and the larger row of tables for the auction items. Many already walked up and down, placing notes and marks for the items they were trying to capture. Another part of the room had circular tables for dining and the food being served banquet style. A small patio out one door gave space for children to play.

“Thank you,” Donovan accepted his coat room ticket and wandered in, spotting whom he assumed to be Father Lorenzo near the stage talking to a number of people. It was busy, a good sign for the church and community. There was also a warmth about the space with people chatting in hushed but friendly tones. Muted laughter filtered in from the children playing outside.

Maneuvering over to the numerous auction tables, the blue-eyed gentleman took a leisurely stroll to read over and look at all the items. Some were baskets of soaps and lotions. There was a one week trip to the Bahamas. A spa day at a nearby business. Two dozen cookies. A dinner for two… The list went on and on.

Rex emerged from the kitchen where he’d been volunteering his meat-handling skills for the banquet. The ribs and steaks were all done by him - he left the side dishes to other people.

With his station cleaned up and his apron hung up, Rex took a moment to loiter against a wall and get a grasp on what was going on. There were certainly more people at the fundraiser than he’d expected, and a ghost of a pleased smile quirked at the corners of his lips. Father Lorenzo had told him to have faith, and Rex had tried, but a certain modicum of doubt had still existed.

Still, it was refreshing to see the community come out in such numbers to help and provide opportunities for those who didn’t have the resources. It was a precious moment to REx, whose life so rarely had examples of good people helping others these days.

All traces of the smile vanished as his eyes fell on one of the tables. It was one of the plainest displays, yet it had one of the largest lists of bids. If it was for such a great cause, Rex would’ve been highly tempted to set it on fire right then and there.

It was a firemen calendar, published by his fire station. Rex himself wasn’t in it, but the entirely gratuitous nature of the calendar and risque aspect ground his gears hard. He still couldn’t believe his captain had okayed it! The calendar was signed by every model, but the real appeal? Winning that particular calendar also gave you a ticket to be there when the next calendar was photographed and made.

Rex was being forced to appear in that one, because he’d stupidly agreed to a bet that he’d been confident was impossible to lose. Well, he could cast magic. Impossible things weren’t so impossible nowadays.

Before he knew it, Rex found himself behind that table, glaring at the calendar, unaware of anyone else around him.

“Excuse me,” a just slightly shorter, but certainly thinner gentleman whispered. “I’m not judging, but people are noticing you’re staring at that uh- item.” Indeed more than a few were intent upon winning that calendar and so their eyes watched carefully for others to go by and bid on it. That was part of the fun of a silent auction, watching what and who others were watching all in their intent to win.

Now just a couple feet away, Devon eyes narrowed as he caught the look upon the older man’s face. That looked like anger, not interest or anything stronger. “...are you alright?” he asked, a concern in his still whispered words.

Somewhere across the room one of the food toppers clanged as it was dropped loudly on the floor. Devon’s head snapped to the side, blue eyes catching the older gentleman apologizing to one of the volunteers who raced to pick it up and get it replaced. At least that had taken eyes off Rex for the moment, though Devon’s quickly returned.

The voice startled Rex and he blinked and turned his head slightly to see who was addressing him. A vestige of glimmering firelight vanished from his eyes. This was Rex’s equivalent to jumping six inches in the air in surprise.

Mortification flooded him and he nodded stiffly. “Ah,” he said. “My…apologies. I did not mean to…” To what? “...stare.”

Rex didn’t meet the man’s eyes at first, which meant he was looking in another direction and saw other people staring at him. The embarrassment got worse, swiftly replacing the irritance.

He shook his head. “No, everything is…” The word “fine” died on the tip of his tongue. Rex didn’t lie if he could help it. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he said instead. “Sorry for disturbing you.” Rex started to turn away from the table to do…anything. Anything at all that would get him away from that blasted calendar.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Devon said quickly as the man started to do so.

Eventually brown eyes met blue and there was clearly a bit of concern upon Devon’s face. His brow furrowed as the taller man started to say everything was fine but hesitated and then dismissed it. Devon had more experience with psychology and mental health than most, long before it was a safer - if still difficult - topic to discuss. His education had been purposeful but he knew he wouldn’t be remotely where he was today without the help of good doctors and therapists. The need to apologize, the casual dismissal of how things were clearly not fine were both, well- not fine.

Devon gave a nod but followed after this older, troubled gentleman. “What’s disturbing me is that you’re clearly not fine,” he continued in whispered tones. “I’m Devon. I don’t really believe in coincidences. You want to talk about it or maybe we can change the subject until you’re more comfortable. Perhaps you’re part of the parish and could give me your opinion on St. Peter’s? I’m trying to find the right church for me.”

As they passed Devon took note of the item, seeing how popular the calendar was. No wonder they were watching, although just what others thought of this seemingly well-muscled gent staring down at it meant.

Dawning horror began to settle on Rex’s shoulders as another glance at the man told him so many things. Namely, that this man liked to talk about feelings.

The whispered tones, discussing Rex’s comfort levels, even offering a “safe” conversation topic as an alternative. Rex knew what was going on. He already had a therapist, and a handful of other people dying to help him any chance they could (namely Hercules) - he didn’t need another, especially someone who didn’t know a thing about him.

Returning to his customary stern, expressionless face other than a slight frown that never seemed to go away, Rex shook his head. “Nothing to talk about,” he said. “You should talk to Father Lorenzo. He can answer your questions better than I could.”

“Thanks, I’ve actually already spoken to Father Lorenzo. He was encouraging me to come today, meet those of the parish and talk with them,” Devon explained in still whispered tones but sterner intent. “Like I said, I don’t believe in coincidences. And I can’t ignore those before me in need of help. We carry each other’s burdens,” he referenced Galatians. “I’m sure you can understand that.”

Everyone resisted a conversation when asked what bothered them. It seemed people were always afraid or distrusting of strangers, which Devon understood. Lying to say it was nothing only made it seem worse. But ultimately Devon knew it could only go so far.  Others had stopped paying attention thankfully, going back to catching up on the week, eating, or meandering through the silent auction.

“We can forget about it for now. However,” he continued, “I really would appreciate your thoughts on the church and community since God has put you along my path for some reason. That is why I came.”

The man was starting to become a pestilence. Rex wasn’t that great at a lot of social nuance - that’s where his wife always stepped up and took over - but he could tell when a person didn’t want to talk. He was quite fluent in that dialect, actually. He also respected when people didn’t want to talk.

This man was cloying. Sickly sweet, the way his tone never shifted, regardless of the topic. The particular topics also ignited a small fire in Rex’s blood. He felt like the man was trying to manipulate him, using the word of God, no less!

Verses rose to his tongue in response, shifting from pillars of fire to burning coals, but Rex suppressed them. There was no reason to call down fire. Well, no reason he would be happy about later, at least. Instead he pressed his lips together in a firm line, in something vaguely like a smile if you’d only ever read about smiles and never saw one in the wild.

“I have other things to do,” he said with barely any inflection to his words. “Please enjoy the food and the amenities.” He gestured at all the items up for bid and then turned to walk away.

Father Above, please do something! Anything, to get me out of this situation!

There was a loud crashing sound as if in response to Rex’s prayer. But it was simply a few individuals coming in and one, pretty well muscled dude had thrown the door open roughly. His friends seemed to chide them as they quickly moved out of the entry area and out of sight for the coat check. It got a glance from Devon again, but only briefly. His blue eyes returned to this clearly upset but now also very annoyed individual.

Devon frowned but bowed his head slightly in response to him. “My apologies,” his tone at least sounded sincere. “Thank you.” And as Rex moved on, Devon turned to go the opposite direction.

He often took mental notes when meeting new people, exploring an area, or working with them. Maybe it was a mind palace floating in the clouds. Maybe it was a series of phrases like a card rolodex. Perhaps it wasn’t visualized at all, but simply a conscious decision to consider remembering something. Either way, angry rude repressed homosexual flew about the confines of his thoughts in reference to St. Peter’s.

But no, no maybe the guy was just having a bad day, knew someone in the calendar, and/or was conservative and hateful. That sort of parishioner would certainly be indicative of a church he didn’t want to attend, but maybe Devon could also recognize he was just disappointed. He’d hoped for a friendly greeting but this definitely wasn’t it. Still, there was no fiery temper. The guy had apologized multiple times and even still said please.

The weatherman moved from table to table, ensuring a careful review of what was available. He made sure to go back over the items he’d walked by seeking a word with the angry, bigger dude. Why did it feel familiar? That was odd, was that why it was bothering him? He shook it off, bidding big on a few items. If nothing else he’d make a donation later, even if he didn’t win anything.

Of course some wanted to be very obvious about their donations. As the auctions ended people would go over to the exchange table and pay after being announced. However, Devon saw some established locals flashing some fancy jewelry, giving donations in obvious handshakes with the Father. That was a bit much, so he ignored them rather than chat them up. This wasn’t a business event for him after all. He met a nice older woman who assured him she had a lovely granddaughter he should meet. A couple women ensured Devon the church was absolutely forward-thinking as they were a couple.

Another crashing sound echoed throughout the hall. It was that bigger guy who’d thrown the door open. Only this time he’d thrown down one of the volunteers into a folding table at the exchange table. Two of his friends were now standing threateningly around Father Lorenzo and two well-to-do parishioners, one with a collapsible baton and the other with a handgun. Another was at the door that led to the children outside, also with a gun in hand. People screamed, both startled and scared.

“I said, we’re taking it all!” the bigger man shouted, a sneer on his face and an eagerness in his eyes.

There truly was a God and He still performed miracles.

Rex relaxed a single fraction of an inch as the man left him alone. Rex started moving toward the banquet area with purpose, even if he actually had none. He was mainly kitchen help and manual labor - he’d been on the crew that had set up all the tables and chairs and rearranged things according to the planning committee’s decrees.

Nevertheless, if all his years as a professional firefighter had taught him anything, it was how to get from point A to point B without being stopped.

Rex let himself relax as he made himself busy, checking in on a few of the community members he knew, either personally or professionally. Nothing major or in-depth, just a routine assessment. Get too deep and they’d see things in him he’d rather hide.

Then there was screaming and yelling and the crashing of people.

Another thing Rex had developed over the years was remaining calm under pressure. The suddenness of the excitement washed over him and he emerged from the kitchen where he’d been washing dishes, a towel still in his hands as he hurriedly dried them.

He saw the four menacing people and he noted their weapons. He grimaced, but then it turned to faint horror as he saw they had victims.

A steely expression settled across Rex. “Enough! Nobody move!” he barked loudly and forcefully. It was a voice that had taken control of many scenes of fire and chaos. He focused his gaze on the bigger man. “Think about what you're doing,” he said, his hands still drying themselves. "Then make a better decision."

Everyone got very quiet, very suddenly.

Devon was talking to a couple individuals at the food tables. His attention had snapped around the room with eyes settling on the bigger guy but now they slid over to angsty-I-don’t-have-feelings-I’m-forget-about-it guy. Tortured hero? Hopeful faithful? Angry repressives still hated theft and violence right? But that air of authority he used in his voice told Devon one thing for sure: he’d been in situations like this before.

“Oh we got a plan, Jesus boy,” the big man shouted as he grabbed the money box with one meaty hand. “Best decision you can ****ing make for these people is for you to shut the **** up and get back in the kitchen!” There were a few rather expletive pieces of language that managed their way in there too but sometimes even asterisks aren’t enough. Suffice to say he didn’t seem too interested in another decision.

While attention went to the big guy and then the one calling him the two around Lorenzo grabbed him and one of the wealthy older guys with him. They knew in a pocket of his robe were the checks he’d been granted. The other guy was getting frisked for his wallet.

The guy at the door where the kids were? He lowered his gun, starting to point it in the direction of Jesus Boy.

“Your decisions do not have to be determined by those of another,” Devon called loudly, his tone finding a deeper resonance and volume meant for when he was at speaking engagements or, well, flying down on a dangerous situation. Hard to ignore that voice coming down from the clouds with a clap of thunder. He glanced across the large room at the man he’d annoyed but looked to find-

The gun swerved in his direction. “Aye, **** you too! Shut it up!”

Devon’s blue eyes narrowed as he lowered his chin.

“We was just gonna take this and go, but now everyone’s gonna empty their pockets and lay down else ya never gonna get back up,” the big guy screamed. “Hate to upset all those kiddos out there,” he laughed obnoxiously.

Eyes went to the outside area where at least a few teenagers had clearly picked up on what was happening. They were drawing the younger kids toward them and hopefully soon away from the building entirely. Devon looked at one kid - maybe 14 - and gave him a slight nod in the direction toward the back alley and away from the hall.

Rex faintly arched an eyebrow in confusion. Jesus Boy? Was that supposed to be him? Father Lorenzo was who Rex would’ve first assumed, but the man had clearly been speaking to Rex.

The firefighter shoved that line of thinking to the side. It didn’t matter. He blinked a couple of times as the cloud of filth being spewed from the man’s mouth, however. Rex wasn’t precisely a prude nor was he unused to being around people who did not abstain from cursing and vulgarities, but even he was surprised at the vitriol and…unique nature…of some of the words the man unleashed.

The diatribe was interrupted only by a man who seemed to be a universal irritant, as the well-dressed individual who’d lightly accosted Rex earlier seemed to have a few words for the gunmen as well, which only seemed to escalate the situation as now weapons were being leveled at them, as well as threats toward children.

Well, it just seemed that the right thing to do was to do what the people said. Better to keep lives from being lost than to try to hang onto worldly possessions. Rex slowly put the dishtowel on a table and reached for his pocket for his wallet, mumbling under his breath, ”Give ye ear, and hear my voice; hearken, and hear my speech.” The spell activated.

“Don’t be a fool and make this worse,” Rex said, his mouth moving but his words only able to be heard by the provocative man, that Devon, as if he were right next to the man and speaking right into his ears. “Just do what they say.”

Devon hoped the kid would take whatever alley or side street and get away from the building. He more than understood worrying about the parents, wanting to stay close and help them, but they could not. Hopefully the older kids would do so. It seemed at least a few did.

His attention went to those near him, some of which he’d just been talking to there at the food tables. Something about the smell of food now was a little sickening. Then he heard something too. Was he, what was- Devon’s head shifted and he gazed at the man who’d spoken first from the corner of his eye. The man wasn’t even looking at him, but was fumbling with his wallet.

Telepathy? No, Devon had experienced telepathy more than a few times and he was clearly hearing the words. Control of sound? Well if so then why wasn’t those near him hearing it? Illusions perhaps, or a very finite control. No one likes being called a fool but Devon was already encouraging those around him to lay down. It wasn’t worth getting shot for and there were too many innocent people about.

Devon found a lot of hypocrisy in this man’s words, let alone he’d gotten the gunman nearby to turn the gun on him instead. Messiah or hero complex perhaps? Devon knew some had accused him of such before too. But no, he was going to give this whatever he was not-fine dude the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was projecting calling him a fool, worrying about making it worse because that’s what he was feeling now. Either way, it didn’t matter if they all got shut up.

The kids were backing away, some slowly getting out of sight and down that alley. More than a couple of the pre-teens had phones and had called 911. This crew of hooligans knew they had limited time anyway. The two with Father Lorenzo had grabbed the envelopes of donations, pushed him to the floor, and moved on to fetching wallets, jewelry. The one near the door to the kids had lowered his gun slightly and was grabbing from people too.

The big guy laughed obnoxiously as he grabbed at necklaces and pushed tables out of his way. He threw a chair as he headed into a throng of people laying down with their wallets and purses out. They’d always been planning to grab what they could quickly. One man did try to hold onto his watch but he got his fingers stepped on. A woman near Father Lorenzo was holding his hand; he didn’t look all too well after being pushed to the hard floor.

“Making good decisions now aren’t ya?” said one of the goons who’d been with Lorenzo, grabbing Rex’s wallet as they passed.

“Stupid ****er,” said the one who’d been at the door, ready to shoot Rex or Devon, as he took Devon’s.

“Alright you lot, let’s get the **** out of here!” the big guy called, rampaging back toward the front with the others eagerly dashing to join. A bevy of warnings not to get up, call the cops, or even move along with some more profanity filled the hall. By now thankfully the kids were out of sight, but no blood had been shed.

As the doors were thrown open and then slammed shut, Devon jumped to his feet and gave Rex an inquisitive look. Turning, he helped those near him to stand while asking the name of the man who’d spoken up before him. Others went racing out the side door to find their kids.

“We need an ambulance,” shouted one person.

“Yes, a paramedic, I think Father Lorenzo hurt his leg,” said the woman with him.

“Is everyone okay?” Father Lorenzo called. “Please check up on one another. I will be fine.” But he couldn’t stand. Something with his leg or maybe even hip had been injured.

Devon was heading for Rex, wherever he was going.

Rex was moving straight toward Father Lorenzo.

“You. Call 9-1-1,” he said, pointing at the woman who had been standing by Father Lorenzo. “Tell them there has been a robbery and one person injured, but not by a weapon.” Before, when the event was progressing as normal and people had been standing around making small talk, Rex had been a fish out of water. Now, with people reeling from an emergency, Rex was in his element.

“Go to the kitchen and get me some clean towels,” Rex said, grabbing another man as he passed and pushing him gently in the direction of the kitchen. Then he made it to Lorenzo’s side.

“I’m trained as a paramedic,” he announced to those nearby. Most of them were strangers to him so he assumed they wouldn’t know his credentials. He knelt beside the priest, utterly ignoring the man’s protests.

“Father, we will make sure everyone is fine. For now, I need you to listen to me and answer my questions,” he said brusquely. “Does it hurt you at all to sit up? Okay. We’re going to gently lay you down.” The man he’d sent to get towels appeared.

Rex grabbed some towels and placed them under Father Lorenzo’s head as a makeshift pillow as he lowered him fully to the floor. From the sound of it, the woman was already speaking to the authorities. Good.

“Alright. I need you to tell me if there is any pain at any point,” Rex said, as he began the process of seeing what kind of damage was done.

Devon didn’t catch the initial moment of Rex taking charge, but heading his direction - thankfully also Father Lorenzo’s direction - was good to see. It took only a few moments nearing to hear and clearly also see Rex was handling it. Emergency services training, so maybe hero complex after all. Tried to disarm a dangerous situation a little brazingly. Moves immediately to help in an emergency. Yet upset and unwilling to talk about it-

Father Lorenzo started describing the numbness in his left calf but pain in his thigh - a sure sign of a break or nerve damage at least - as a small crowd gathered. Devon, on the other hand, backed away. Rex clearly would help the Father, paramedics would come, and that would be that.

The blue-eyed young man went to the door out to the central courtyard where the kids had been playing. Parents had gone running out there and he could hear them shouting in the alley, calling for their children. “Let’s get everyone accounted for,” Devon said. “Raise your hand if you can’t-”

One woman started waving her hand frantically. “My son Luis! I can’t find him! I can’t find him!” she shouted.

Devon rushed over nodding. Others stared, but hugged their kids and were moving close to walls. So many cell phones had come out.

“Some kids ran out that way,” one of the teenagers said.

“Or he could be hiding,” Devon said calmly. “Kids have a sense for these things. Once he sees and hears you, he’ll come out. Let’s go look,” he encouraged, and started to walk with the woman around dumpsters and discarded items there.

“Luis! Luis!” she called.

Devon grabbed at a fire escape ladder that was curiously low. “I’ll look up here,” he said and started the climb. While he normally would have flown it likely wasn’t worth scaring the people anymore. Up five flights he went, quick as possible, and got to the roof.

“Is he up there?” the mom called.

A kid was crying as he came into the alley, running to his parents. A couple small groups were coming back, hearing the parents and others. Luis wasn’t among them.

“Luis?” Devon asked loudly. “Your mom is down on the street looking for you. Are you here? You can come see here. My name’s Devon; I’m just helping your mom find you.”

The roof was decorated with various patio furniture, much of it well used and not well cared for. But there, behind a couch-like piece came a small head and tear-filled eyes.

Devon stopped moved, squatting down. “Hey, Luis? I’m Devon. Your mom’s down there. Can you hear her? She’s looking for you.”

“Are the bad men gone?” he asked timidly, tears in his voice as well.

“Yes, and mom’s okay. She really wants to see you,” Devon nodded.

“Okay,” Luis responded, slowly coming out.

“I’ll go down first, but take it easy okay?” Devon asked.

“Mmm hmm,” Luis responded as they got to the side.

“He’s up here! We’re going to come down slowly. Please encourage him to be slow and careful. Luis did such a good job hiding!” Devon said, started his way down.

“Mom!” Luis screamed, crying a bit again.

“Easy Luis. Mom’s down here,” she said loudly in response.

Devon nodded at Luis and his mom, while others encouraged him down. It seemed to take forever, but in just a couple minutes they were down and Luis was held by his mom again.

“Thank you, thank you,” she said.

Devon gave a nod. “Everyone should stay right here. The police and such are on the way. Father Lorenzo needs the paramedics, but he’s awake. Let’s not crowd him or the emergency personnel within.”

After ensuring all were encountered for, Devon headed back into the courtyard and was starting to hear sirens. Once inside he mentioned such, “I can hear them coming. All children accounted for outside with their parents.” Various individuals said good, thanks, or asked if people out there were hurt. Devon answered quickly.

There was a person seated alone, breathing heavily, shaking a bit. Devon recognized a panic attack and moved to them to slowly talk them through it. He knelt down, asked if he could place a hand on their knee or if they could hold hands and practice some steady breathing.

It did feel good to help of course. Devon certainly knew that. He hoped Rex was feeling the same because all things aside, it seemed clear Rex wanted to help.