Hercules looked over you, his face a still, unreadable image as he held you tightly in his grasp. One arm was coiled around your waist, the burden of his hold reassuring yet heavy. His other arm was held above you both, his forearm flat against mounds of broken concrete. Waves of fiery red hung like a curtain above your face, his hair flowing down and falling from his shoulders to tickle the skin of your cheek.

He'd managed to fell the beast that terrorised your town, but not before the monster had rampaged and torn down the building you were in. He shifted slightly, the thunderous and threatening crack of destabilised concrete loud. But Hercules did not strain against the massive load. There was no sign of sweat on his brow. He simply looked at you, golden eyes boring into yours until he spoke gruffly against the silence.

"Are you injured?"

His words were sharp. Cutting. The brusqueness of his otherwise uncommon accent tore through, bearing down and adding weight to his voice. But that didn't hide the hint of concern that laced itself between the hero's tone. With a flick and shove of the arm above you, he tossed the pieces of ruined building away, as if it weighed the same as paper. The mix of heavy stone, wood and metal landed with a rumbling boom to your side, kicking up dust and debris that Hercules shielded you from with his own body.

But now he'd opened you up to the fresh outside air, warm sun coating you both as Hercules glowed like a wreath of flames. The sound of cheering and applause began to swell as the townsfolk shuffled out of hiding, but Hercules ignored it for now.

He was only looking at you.