Master Tanaka’s Taekwondo School

I can’t understand it, a cherry-haired girl muttered in her mind, how could I be sensitive to their feelings and yet they are the racist ones. She gave an angry punch at the punching bag, wincing as her hand stung from the contact of the rough leather.

“Akeila, pay attention.” A sharp voice interrupted her from her thoughts, making her snap her head up with an apologetic look.

She stopped, out of courtesy and respect, and bowed her head. “Sorry master, but my mind’s wandering on angry thoughts.” She apologized, her head still bowed.

The woman gave an uncharacteristic smile, the lines in her aged and tanned face crinkling into a grandmotherly smile. “Akeila, what is on your mind?” she asked, “You seem to be troubled as of late.”

The young teen looked up in surprise, blinking her gold-flecked hazel eyes in surprised puzzlement. “I’ve been having trouble at school,” she began uncertainly, “my classmates have been teasing me because I’m white-skinned, and they think I am weak just because of my skin color.” She looked up, chewing on a corner of her lip. The older woman nodded, gesturing that she continue.

Akeila twisted her hands in uneasiness, “After a while, I got so frustrated that I punched one of my classmates who said it. Both him and me went to the principal’s office. Mr. Unali said that I’m supposed to respect other people’s feelings. I then asked him why every black classmate doesn’t think that way towards anyone who doesn’t have their skin color. Now I’m suspended for the rest of the month.”

The South Korean laughed lightly, “Oh, Akeila, don’t take to heart on what they say. They just have more prejudices than you.” She folded her arms, the folds of her loose-fitting sleeves covering her hands, “Now, you need to work on your back kicks.” She said, a grin tugging at her wrinkled features.

The Macedonian teen’s face relaxed in relief. “Yes ma’am.” She said, and went to get the kicking paddles.

_.-.-.-.-._

Streets

After about another hour of vigorous exercise, she had finally perfected her back kick and was now enjoying the blooming dogwood, willow, and red coral trees. The pleasant spring sun made all the reds and pinks of the flower buds glow.

Akeila readjusted her leather bag and continued plodding down the sidewalk to the nearest bus stop.

Just then her phone rang. Her favorite head banger song startled her out of her mental wanderings. She opened up her bag and scrambled around its interior to find her cell.

“Hello?” she answered, clamping the phone between her shoulder and ear as she quickly reorganized her drawstring bag.

“Akeila!” A female voice screeched through the phone. The fourteen-year-old winced as she held the phone at arm’s length. “Hi mom.” She greeted her caller in a rather bored tone, sitting on the bus bench.

“Where are you?” she continued yelling in a frantic tone of voice, “You were supposed to be home an hour ago!”

“Mom,” she interrupted, but her worry-wort mom didn’t hear her. Trying another tactic, she yelled “Mom!” through the phone. Said person abruptly stopped.

Akeila rolled her eyes, “Mom, I’m fine. I just stayed at Master Tanaka’s for a little while longer because she thought that my back kick wasn’t up to par.” She chuckled, “Besides, I’m already at the bus stop.”

As if on cue, the small community’s bus slowed to her stop, the doors opening with a hoot of air. She dug the bus money out of her back pocket, walking up to the mechanical door.

“Mom, the bus is here. See you soon.” The teen said on the phone, dropping the money into the box.

Her mom sighed on the other end of the line, “Yes dear, see you soon.” With a click, the line went dead. Akeila shoved the phone in the back pocket where her money was only a few moments ago, and found an empty seat.

As soon as she sat down, the bus moved forward with a jerk. The redheaded teen took the phone out of her pocket and opened up her rucksack. She put the tiny phone in its customary pocket, and then began with her daily checklist.

“Okay, phone, check; agenda, check; today’s homework, check; drawing tablet and paints, check; two Ssang Geoms, check; and laptop, check.” She muttered to herself, rearranging everything so that it fit. Akeila put the two double-edged swords on opposing sides in the middle so that everything would stay in place. Her small laptop went in the back, and everything else she more or less shoved into the front, taking care to not demolish her only phone.

Closing the waxed strings, she re-buckled her bag shut and looked out the fingerprint-covered window to enjoy the scenery.

She sighed, giving her imaginative mind free reign again and let it wander.

Suddenly, she swore under her breath. Okay… maybe it was a little louder. “Shit!” she whacked herself on her forehead, cursing herself for inheriting her mother’s forgetfulness. She grabbed her bag and yanked on the brake line, making the rickety bus’s brakes screech to a stop.

She raced out, shouting a rushed “Sorry!” as she got off. The slender young woman ran towards the intersection and took a left, running full-speed ahead to her destination instead in an attempt to get there faster.

On the bus, someone with unusually pale skin chuckled in amusement. He picked up his folded newspaper and resumed his casual reading of last night’s soccer game.

_.-.-.-.-._

Little rivulets of salty sweat ran down the sides of her temples, making her insipid skin glisten in the now-setting sun. Her Reeboks pounded on the gravel, her breathing deepened to take in extra oxygen. She had just slung both of her shoulder straps on to keep her bag from falling off at her frantic pace.

“Oh damn, damn, and double damn.” She kept repeating to herself, once again cursing herself on how on this green earth could she forget that. She jumped a fence, one of her many discovered shortcuts, and kept running to the next fence in an effort to cut time.

_.-.-.-.-._

Stalaski home

A few dozen fences later, she reached her destination, home. She ran around the house to the backyard. Akeila slowed to a walk, she knew she was late anyways.

In one of the few cleared spaces in her family’s backyard sat a boy a couple of years younger than her, a smirk on his features. “I didn’t know that you liked practicing with me so much.” He teased, sitting up and putting his battered red Game Boy down.

It was her turn to smirk, “It’s the only thing that we can both agree on liking without arguing.” She said, “By the way, did I forget to mention that there’s a spider on your pants?”

“A spider?!” he yelped, doing a few 360’s and shaking his legs, “Where?!”

Akeila really couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing, dropping her leather sack, covering her mouth as tears of amusement rolled down her face. “I can’t believe you fell for that Izzy!” she said while catching her breath. The fourteen year old waved her hand, imitating someone about to faint.

Isiah caught on quickly. His face colored a tomato red in embarrassment as he clenched his fists in suppressed annoyance. “It can’t be that funny Akeila! Come on, that ain’t fair!” he cried out, retaining as much dignity as he could.

The said person straightened, the grin never leaving her face. “Isn’t.” She corrected, “Sorry lil’ bro, but I couldn’t resist.”

Her brother frowned, but he quickly grinned as a devious idea popped into his head. He picked up his sword, still in its sheath, and feinted a hit to her shoulder.

“Hey!” she yelped, jumping back, “Not fair. I wasn’t ready!” she protested, quickly getting her double swords before he could try that again.

He stood where he was a few moments ago, looking as if he never even fake-whacked her. “Just returning the favor.” He said with a grin, unsheathing his sword and his other matching one as well. “Besides,” he added, his expression turning serious, “you can’t expect the enemy to wait if you’re ready; if they catch you unsuspecting, they’ll gladly take that window of opportunity to take you out.” He explained, moving into his customary battle stance.

Akeila rolled her eyes, “Isiah, you’re such a pessimist.” she scoffed, “Besides, who would want to go after me? As far as I know, I haven’t ticked off anybody in some time as far as I can recall.” She had shifted into her battle stance as well, closing the space and making it harder for him to maneuver.

That, unfortunately for her, didn’t hinder her agile younger brother. He made a vertical scissoring motion, flipping one of his swords. Akeila parried the blade-up sword, bringing it up above both of their heads; at the same time hooking her foot and kicking him in the back of his knee.

However, she either forgot about, or just didn’t notice, his other sword. His curved pirate-inspired blade just barely skinned her left leg and held up her corresponding arm, thus basically immobilizing the same arm she had to him, if in a different style.

They stood, almost comically, with opposing arms held up by the other’s, and Isiah’s leg bent almost to the point of him falling on one leg.

Thinking quickly, Akeila brought her trapped arm towards her, also bringing her hooked foot towards her, making him fall. She sidestepped him and stood parallel to him. The slightly exhausted young woman put her right foot down in the middle of his shoulders, pinning him down effortlessly. She flicked his twin swords away from his reach, then placed the tip of her short right-hand blade firmly on the back of his neck, not enough to draw blood though.

“Dead.” She pronounced happily, glad that she had finally beat him. She unpinned him, grinning somewhat like a loony.

Her brother raised an eyebrow in amusement, “If I didn’t know better,” he began, “you’re coding that I’m better at sword fighting than you.” His older sister pouted, crossing her arms, making sure that she didn’t cut herself with her weapons.

“And if I didn’t know better,” she retorted, “you don’t like getting beaten by a girl, especially me.” She allowed herself to smirk, walking a ways a bit to get her brother’s water bottle.

He shrugged, “As odd as it sounds coming from me, it’s a good thing if you beat me. You never know if what we’re learning will come in handy.”

His older sister rolled her eyes again. “Come on Izzy, we’re you’re average Macedonian family. Nothing special about us.” She commented, putting the custom-made blades back in their covers.

“Really Akeila, I don’t think we’re normal, and you know that.” Isiah said, also putting away his sparring gear. He walked over and grabbed his backpack and water bottle.

Akeila sighed, “Yeah, I know.” She said in a resigned tone of voice, “But I can try right?” she joked half-heartedly.

Her brother shook his head, “I don’t think it’ll get you anywhere though.” He commented.

“Akeila! Isiah! Come in! You guys need to help with dinner!” Someone shouted from the mid-size house. Both siblings rolled their eyes, “Coming Mom!” they shouted in unison.

“Jinx!” they said at the simultaneously. Akeila snapped her fingers, “Damn.” She muttered good-naturedly with a grin.

Isiah only shrugged. “I set the table!” He yelled, already a few dozen meters away from her.

Akeila, stunned at his sudden sprint, shouted back, “Isiah Marcus Stalaski! I got the table!” She picked up her stuffed bag and ran after him into their house.

_.-.-.-.-._

Somewhere else…

“How are we going to stop her?” a low voice growled. The dim red light showed a gnarled face that proved of much participation in fierce battles.

Another person, much younger, pointed out, “We have to find the other before she invades and tries to destroy the only person standing in her way.” He picked up a worn book from the table, its cover coming from some species long extinct. He flipped through the vellum pages, archaic symbols gracing the delicate material. Finding the section he wanted, he laid out the book in front of his elder, his thin finger pointing to a certain picture. “We have to find her before she breaks through the barrier.”

“And how do we do that?” the aged man retorted, “There are billions of people, how on Earth are we going to find one person, a mere girl, among everyone else?” he slammed his hands on the eons-old wooden table, “Do you have any sane or possible idea on how to do it?”

The younger man nodded, the red illumination making his pale skin glow red in the noonday sun. “How else would you find her? Magic.” He said simply.

His elder crossed his arms with a mix of contempt and resignation. “And is this the easiest way to track her down?” he asked cautiously, raising a thin white eyebrow. The other man nodded again. “Good, we’ll start now.”

_.-.-.-.-._

Back at the Stalaski household…

“Isiah!” a female voice screeched, but not angrily, “Stop it! I don’t wanna clean up the kitchen!” Foamed-up dish soap covered the floor, walls, and just about any reachable place. Akeila had just gotten walloped in the face by her younger, if taller, brother.

The black-hair, hazel-eyed boy grinned in boyish delight. In his hand was a pile of freshly made foam. “Akeila, I doubt that you’ll do it, or alone at any rate. You never know which one of us is gonna clean it with mom.” He commented, dumping the foam into the sink, “However, I think foam is a little hard to clean up.”

“Ah… ah… achoo!” The redheaded teen sneezed, sending the foam on her face everywhere but. “You think?” she said sarcastically, grabbing a tissue to get the foam off her, “Y’know, I’d hate to think that I’m allergic to the soap too. Mom would throw a fit. I can just imagine her saying ‘Oh, Akeila, my baby, we need to get new soap and some allergy medication. Remember to take it twice a day dear, you don’t want to drop dead!’” Akeila mimicked her mother, waving her hands about. Both of the siblings cracked up laughing.

“Yes Akeila, you don’t want to drop dead. I doubt you would want to drop and give me twenty either.” Her mom said, coming into the kitchen. Her daughter gave a faint blush, but she knew from experience not to say anything, lest she wanted to do, oh say, around twenty to fifty push-ups. Not like she needed to anyways, she already owes her mom a few hundred, close to a thousand the last time she recalled.

Isiah grabbed a nearby washcloth and wetted it under the sink. “Either way, we’re cleaning it up.” He said, now wringing it out.

Their mom raised an eyebrow at his unusual behavior; most of the time Isiah said that his sister did it, and she knew that was not always the case, thus the equal punishment. “All right,” she relented, “but you only have-”

“Five minutes?” he interrupted, giving his mom a playful grin, “You should really change tactics, but I’m not complaining on the time.” He added quickly for good measure, just so that she couldn’t cut it down to less time to clean up. “Besides, we’ll be done in no time, right Akeila?”

Akeila, catching on, said, “Yeah, no time for you at any rate. But, yes, we’ll be done soon.” She uncrossed her arms and grabbed another washcloth, wetting it as her brother did.

Just then, a fifty-something man came in, a bit ruffled, but otherwise in a good mood. “Bonsoir guys!” he greeted them, hanging up his coat in the foyer’s closet.

“Hey sweetie, how was work?” Their mom greeted their father warmly, giving him a quick peck on the cheek and setting down his briefcase.

“Mmm, bien. Tu?” he said in French. Akeila groaned in exasperation, “Come on Dad, we have enough to learn at school already, I don’t want to live at one too.” She complained, wiping off some foam from the countertop.

“Mais vous devez apprendre. Ne prenez-vous pas un essai dans votre classe française en quelques semaines? But you have to learn. Aren’t you taking a test in your French class in a few weeks?” he teased. Both mother and son raised their eyebrows and exchanged a look; neither of them had languages as a strong suit.

Akeila crossed her arms again, “Yeah, I know I need to learn. Oui, je sais que j'ai besoin d'ot apprends.” Akeila allowed herself a grin, then went back to cleaning up the mess in the kitchen and, well, ignored them.

“David, since I didn’t understand a word that you just said, you’re making dinner.” Their mom said with a chuckle.

“Okay, but I must remind you Claire, I hope you checked the smoke alarms in the kitchen lately.” He joked, already rolling up the sleeves of his long-sleeved Atlantic blue corduroy shirt.

Akeila grinned to herself when Isiah decided upon a mock-horrified look on his face. “Did I forget to tell you that we got water in the stovetop?” he said, “And unless you want to make a cold dinner, the stove won’t work.”

Their dad turned to their mom, “What do you think Claire?” he said with a chuckle, then turned towards his 13 year-old son, “How about we eat out tonight then? You can finish cleaning up when we get back.”

Both the kids, sorry, teens, gave a “Yes!” of unplanned triumph. However, their dad waved his finger, “Nuh uh ah, I mean ONLY you Isiah, Akeila’s off the hook because I know she wouldn’t start something like this.”

Isiah apparently wasn’t expecting this, “But-”

“No buts, whatever your dad says goes.” His mom interrupted sternly, but a smile graced her features, “As for you Akeila, you still owe me twenty push-ups.”

The said teen winced, but kept her composure, something years of practice had done, “Can we convert that to crunches instead?” she asked cautiously, “Because I know that you know that I won’t do push-ups, I’m more likely to do crunches.” She pointed out.

Her mom gave it a moment of thought, then nodded, “Deal. Now, where are we going to eat out?” she asked everyone, getting her purse.

“How about Cici’s?” Their dad suggested.

“ ’Kay.” Isiah said, gratefully putting down the washcloth in the small stainless steel sink. Akeila tossed hers in also, then ran out the door, unexpectedly, shouting, “I got shotgun!”

When the door slammed shut, both guys started laughing. Claire just shook her head, partly in amusement from Akeila, and partly a they’re-hopeless mood. She grabbed her purse and followed her spunky young daughter out, casual slip-ons shuffled into. “Come on, I don’t think Akeila will let you keep her waiting.” She called out behind her, a grin adorning her thirty-something face.

As the door shut again, this time with a much gentler click, the males of the small family gave a high five. Isiah opened the fridge and pulled out a medium-sized package wrapped in a few layers of tin foil and duct tape. As he unwrapped it, his dad grabbed a couple of plastic baggies. “This is the first prank I’ve done in years.” He commented, helping Isiah put the edible pranks in the bags.

“But I still can’t understand why girls constantly want to be skinny. I swear, mom and Akeila’ll turn anorexic one of these days.” Isiah replied, throwing away the now-crushed wad of tinfoil and silvery duct tape.

David shook his head, “If you can figure out girls, you’re a genius. But something tells me that you shouldn’t. They sure would be ticked off at us.” He shrugged, “Probably why we like ‘em.”

“That’s also probably why I’m always dateless too.” Isiah commented dryly. “Well, I don’t think they’ll get any meat lover’s pizza, so this’ll be doubly good.”

His dad shook his head, “At least be fair; we don’t want this to be too mean of a prank. However, eating the dessert is a nice perk for us.” He put the baggies in his casual briefcase; he had work to do anyways.

Isiah shrugged in indifference, “We might want to go to the Milan before Akeila and mom get annoyed at us again.” He walked out the door, his dad following.

_.-.-.-.-._

At Cici’s…

Akeila and her nearly forty mom slid into an unoccupied bench a few seats away from the TV. A few moments later both father and son sat in the opposite bench with a plateful of food in each hand, one for appetizer and one for the main meal.

“Wow, I hope you guys are hungry, we aren’t taking any of that home.” Claire said, eating a forkful of noodles.

David shrugged nonchalantly, “Eh, it doesn’t matter either way, our house is within walking distance. That,” he added with a grin, “or we could hitchhike.”

“Or we could just leave you here and bribe the manager to lock you in the closet for the weekend.” His wife said with an equally playful grin.

Akeila smothered a giggle with a mouthful of salad. When she swallowed the leafy greens coated in ranch dressing, she said, “Well, I hate to burst the happy mood, but did you know I got suspended for the rest of the month for punching an asshole in the jaw?” She said, “Oh, and those brownies you guys are trying to hide, we changed the mixes to low-fat.” The fourteen-year-old said with a smirk visible on her face.

At that, both people with XY chromosomes groaned. “Aw man, can’t we ever pull a prank on you guys?” Isiah complained, sticking his tongue out at his older sister. When he saw his mom giving him a non-verbal no-no at his behavior, he quickly took a big bite out of his meat-lover’s pizza.

“Lemme think on that.” Claire said with a grin, mocking a thoughtful face, complete with the fake beard. “Nah, you guys are way to gullible.”

“Did you guys forget that we bugged the house already? Come on, we just moved in a couple years ago!” Akeila added, faking surprise.

“Not to mention you guys are also on the bandwagon for dieting too. I don’t recall you guys cooking since we started eating less junk food.” Her mom mentioned, “So I guess you guys shouldn’t complain about us being anorexic.” When she saw the surprised looks on both her husband and son, “Oh, you really thought I was going to the Milan?” She said, not genuinely surprised.

Knowing they were defeated, her husband changed subject. “Now why were you suspended Akeila?”

“Some loser was saying white people are weak, and he’s been doing it for quite a while, especially when I can hear him. This time, I said to hell with his ignorance and punched him in the jaw. Mostly because he’s indirectly directing it at me, and because I don’t believe anyone should take the BS.” Akeila explained, grimacing.

“Cool. Did you bruise him?” Isiah asked, being his usual guy self.

Akeila smiled and shook her head, “No. But I can say that he’ll be needing to come up with an excuse on why a white girl who’s half his size almost knocked him out.” She said with a grin, “Which won’t be very easy, considering the fact that just about everybody saw it.” The redhead chuckled, “Man, that makes me wish I could film half the stuff that happens at school.”

“How long are you suspended, young lady?” Her mom said in a stern voice, warning her that being suspended wasn’t going to be the only punishment that she would be receiving for her actions.

“Oh, today’s the last school day of the month.” She said nonchalantly, “Don’t you think it would be smarter to suspend me for the rest of next month too? Really, I thought they were the smart ones.” The teen rolled her hazel eyes in sarcastic amusement.

Suddenly, a crack of lightning sounded, causing the eatery’s lights to black out. Claire dropped her fork in surprise, but quickly gathered her thoughts and took command.

“Is everybody all right?” The casually dressed mother called out, her lighter lit to see everybody. The few babies that were there started to wail, and were franticly shushed, as the crying panicked more people.

Isiah and his sister shrugged and resumed eating in the nearly pitch black restaurant. “Everybody, calm down.” Their mother said sternly, walking over to the fuse box. She opened it and flipped a few switches. A few seconds later, the emergency lights came on.

The first thing visible was a tall figure in a duster as black as the restaurant was a few moments ago. It looked around, looking at each person in the room. When they saw the Stalaski family, the figure walked over to their table with unmistakable purpose.

Isiah saw this, and nudged his sister’s foot underneath the table, motioning her to look. Akeila nodded, and reached a hand underneath the gum-covered table for her swords.

The figure turned out to be a woman, and she didn’t have much of a tan either. The mystery lady took off her old-styled hat and turned towards the teenage girl with a smirk.

“My, my, my, last time I saw you, you were just a wee little lass.” The woman chuckled, “But then again, I was about your age when you were a bairn.” The woman unexpectedly stretched out her hand, which Akeila shook, stunned enough as is.

Claire saw the commotion and was right next to the visitor in a moment. “Who are you and what do you want with my daughter?” Akeila’s mom said in a possessive voice, immediately not trusting the person.

The woman released her grip and turned around, “I see ye’ve never lost that edge, have ye, Claire?” She commented with a chuckle.

Claire’s hazel eyes widened in recognition. “Vanora? Is that you? Man, I haven’t seen you in a while.” She hugged her old friend, “We have a lot to catch up on. How are you?”

Both siblings shook their heads, who knows how long they were gonna be here now. David shrugged, “I’m gonna get some more pizza, anyone wanna come?”

Isiah shook his head, “Nah, I wanna eat these brownies.” He said as he held up the bag. Akeila got up, but not after taking one of her Ssang’s, and moved around the chatting woman to get some more grub.

“So, how are the kids doing? It’s almost Akeila’s fifteenth birthday ye know.” Vanora said with a smile. Claire chuckled, “Well, aside from them being a pain in the ass half the time, they’re doing great. They’re both practicing their defense techniques and I was thinking about visiting you for some holiday of the sort as a surprise.”

Vanora took off her duster and sat down in the booth, revealing a simple blouse and a tartan skirt. “Ye know ye dinna have to visit me, jus’ give me a call and we can arrange something.” She said, her Scottish accent coming back as she became more relaxed with her old friend.

As David and daughter came back with a couple plates of food each, the women let them in before continuing the conversation. “Well, what brings you here to Skopje?” Claire probed curiously, “I know you don’t visit long-distance friends unless something’s up.”

At this, the Scottish woman sighed, “Ah, well, let’s just say that some ol’ folklore is brewin’ up again in Tayport.”

Claire raised an eyebrow and sighed. She sat down, motioning for her old friend to join her. “Is it the folklore that I’m thinking about?” The thirty-something year old asked jadedly, her eyes creasing in concern.

“If ye’re talkin’ Protectors, yes. Somethin’s up, and they’re comin’ back from where they’ve been holed up the past few hundred years.” Vanora replied with a mirroring expression.

By now both Isiah and Akeila have come back from the buffet table with two plates each, a happy grin on their faces. David was still deciding whether he wanted mac and cheese or a buffalo wing pizza.

Claire frowned. The last time the Protectors were seen was over a hundred years ago, and only a few people have ever seen them. Of course, since the Protector’s existence was kept secret from a few billion other people, those few people’s memories were wiped clean. However, as with any type of memory loss, the person can recover their lost memory if their mind is provoked correctly. Which posed a serious global security threat if that were to happen.

It took an extremely Earth-threatening cause to make them come out. Some types of people, like Adolf Hitler, wanted world domination. That’s bad. And that’s an incitement that would bring ‘em out. They were about to though, if the Allies weren’t able to come to Germany in time. But the civilian militaries handled it pretty well, so they kept their distance.

And if the Protectors are being forced out of secrecy, then that means something very serious is about to happen. Think world war three. Yeah, that bad.

“But what on earth would make them come out again. They haven’t been seen in ages.” Claire shook her head, “If that’s the case, we need to round up our friends and ask them if they can spare a few lives.”

Akeila, since she had an annoying, and sometimes useful, habit of eavesdropping, frowned in concern and tapped Isiah on his foot. The teen proceeded to text her brother, nimble fingers flying over the minute text pad. Since they had their phones on vibrate, it didn’t take much to get each other’s attention when their phones were in their pockets.

“What does mom mean, spare a few lives?” The redhead asked, via phone. Isiah swallowed a bite of jalapeno pizza and shrugged.

“I don’t know. Why are they talking about war? There’s already quite a few going on right now.” He replied.

Akeila resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Do you ever pay attention? They’re talking about a different war. How many people do you see making a room black out when the enter it?”

Right on cue, David came back with a grin on his face and four teetering plates of foodstuffs. He set his plates down in the center of the table, making the Isiah and Vanora slide in to make room. Akeila suppressed a giggle.

“Well,” the Scottish woman said with a sigh, “I’ll be in a hotel in near the main road, I still need to gather a few items from your cousin.”

Claire drew in a sharp breath. Her only nearby cousin was the last true apocethary in all of Macedonia, and for what her friend is looking for, well, let’s just say that her cousin’s eccentricity stemmed from circumstance.

Her wariness didn’t go unnoticed though. “Mom?” The fifteen year old asked cautiously, setting down her spoon of ice cream, “What kind of war is coming?” The thirty-something woman shook her head in dismissal.

After a moments pause, Claire replied, “A very, very old war Akeila. This is probably the last of several battles though.” David raised an eyebrow, but not after dropping a dangly string of mozzarella into his mouth and chomping it down.

After the polyglot polished off the last pepperoni slice on his plate, he turned a serious face towards his wife. “Now if I remember correctly, I married a regular Belgium woman.” Said woman grinned nervously.

“Ah, well, you see,” She began, “I am Belgium, but I’m part of a… clan?” Claire glanced at Vanora to see if she was correct. The elder woman nodded. “We are a worldwide clan under oath to, well, protect Earth in this dimension. And before you ask, yes, we are sworn to secrecy because of the work we do. I’m currently on observation duty because I married you and had Akeila and Isiah.” Also because the Council thought I was too reckless to be on sentinel duty Claire thought with a grin.

Vanora pulled out a piece of rolled parchment out of her worn white leather tote (unusual color, eh?) and handed it to her friend’s husband. “This was issued a few years ago about Claire’s last meeting with the Council. All the meetings are recorded, but,” She added, “the typewriter’s mind is wiped as soon as they leave the building. Twice, actually. That way we’re positive that their memories won’t be triggered by something.”

David nodded and opened up the roll of parchment. His daughter raised an eyebrow, but decided not to interrupt. She took a quick sip from her red plastic glass and piped up, “What’s the paper about?” Akeila asked inquisitively. Her mother tapped her shin a few times with her right foot’s heel. The bright-headed teen gave an under-faced scowl, but kept quiet.

When their dad was done reading the degenerating paper, he handed it back to his wife’s friend. After a few seconds pause, he spoke. “Why on earth were you discharged because of destruction of UN property?”

Claire grinned cheekily, “I kind of… strayed from orders…” David looked bewildered. Isiah snickered.

“If she didn’t stray from the Dean’s orders, the Jacobite rebellion would’ve still be active for another few decades. Which would be a real shame, most of the men in Scotland look very… handsome… in tartans.” Vanora said in her defense, a grin tugging at her lips despite the fact.

Curious as that cliché cat, Akeila interrupted. “When was that?” She asked as she stacked the empty plates in the middle of the table.

Both her mom and the Scotswoman traded grins, “Can’t tell you; a woman’s age is their best-kept secret.” Claire said.

David chuckled, “Yeah, and all you have to do is look at her biography to see how old Fran Fine is”. Everyone at the table burst out laughing, much to the rest of the Cici’s chagrin. Isiah glared at the rest of the restaurant, which quickly deflected all other attention away from the table.

“We’re going to Scotland.” Claire said suddenly. If you looked at Akeila and Isiah, you could see a you-have-got-to-be-kidding-we’re-finally-taking-a-road-trip? look plastered on their faces.

“Why?” Her husband asked curiously. Claire almost never abruptly announced a sudden vacation. Which is why there was some doubt as to the hows and whens about it.

Vanora grinned at her colleague, “Where else would we go? The headquarters for the Protectors are in Scotland, ye know.”

Akeila let out a whoop of joy. “We are so gonna need to buy some souvenirs.” She said excitedly. Her family members smiled, there was no one better in the family when it came to shopping for souvenirs, or anything else for that matter. “We’re going to need some kilts, maybe we can find our clan. I think there’s cotton throws too, or was that Ireland? I’m pretty sure we can get those there too, maybe at the border. What about some good luck charms? Maybe some pottery….”

Other place…