"Four strangers, one mission: Navigate Paris's shadows, overcome clashing agendas, and unite or fall."
This was the origin of The Fabulous Fours.
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Selena, the lone sister in a household teeming with brothers, has always been resilie...
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This is Zayn. Now far off from the 3 mortals you've seen, Zain Javadd Malik (Call him Zayn) is a different type of human being.
I'm not saying he's a half-breed or wizard, I'm saying that Zayn had a whole other definition of a young adult compared to the other 3. He works in a French restaurant in L.A, but only because his mother, who seems to be a very miserable woman, conceded to alcohol ever since she witnessed her own husband 'snuff it' in which in another term means to die.
Zayn turned 19 on January 12th, allowing him to work full-time without having to care about school work. It did him good, making him slightly better at his job than to ditch his shift every night just so he could talk to his principal.
It was a nice quiet night at the restaurant, Zayn was made to stay and wash up after the last guest, who apparently, Zayn does not like.
He says she is in over her head over him and keeps staring at him rather than her husband, a heavy-looking man, whose bottom seemed to be twice the size of his chair.
Zayn had to fix this, of course, but how could he be so arrogant to tell the man; "Sir, your butt is way too big for that chair, we might want you to add another-"
He can't just say that! The guy could've been able to have Zayn sacked!
To his rescue, the manager understood and made an excuse to tell him that his chair looked great if there were two stuck to each other- of course, that was not the case but minding the fact that these rich-asses are so dim-witted, this guy took the compliment.
"Malik, take the dessert," boomed the chef from behind the counter, making Zayn jump slightly. It was 10 pm that night and could've sworn that he would be at home, asleep in his own bed, only if the guy didn't make a big deal about his wife, crying over Zayn's pretty boy's face.
"Yes, man," he grumbled as he whipped a towel across his forearm and balanced the tray on his left palm.
As he approached the table, the woman had lost her breath, staring at Zayn's face. Just great, He thought to himself, avoiding her eyes as he set the dessert down on the table.
"Give me a call if you need anything else," Zayn mumbled, glad to be quick out of their way. The last time he heard, the guy eats just like what he looks like; a pig.
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"You may leave for the night, Malik," the manager said, politely as he watched Zayn try to hide a yawn.
"Erm... thanks man," he said, taking off his vest, leaving on his white button-up shirt.
Just when he was about to take off the bow tie, the chef came up to him, handing him a sack of what seems to be garbage. Zayn eyed both the garbage AND the chef as the round man smirked, wobbling off to the kitchen.
The manager smiled as he walked past Zayn, patting his back, "Goodnight, I'll see you at work tomorrow night."'
Zayn nodded and grabbed his bag, flinging on a grey hoodie as he walked out, grabbing the trash bag with him.
That son of a bitch, Thought Zayn. Thinking he could boss me around all night, ey? Well, next time, I'll show him!
Zayn threw the trash bag into the dumpster harshly, making a cat hiss at him.
"What're you hissin' for, you ruddy cat?" Zayn spat as if the cat could hear him.
He was an animal person, but he knew very well himself that cats were obviously not his thing!
"Holy mother of God- get away from me!" he curses, taking his hands to shield his face as if it could've.
"I don't have money!" he yelled again, making the guy sigh out of frustration as he continued to inch closer to the boy, flicking a pocket knife out of his hands, letting it show clearly as the light hit the gleaming edge. It illuminated Zayn's face, who had noticed and screamed very VERY loudly.
"Oh please," the guy said, a British accent in his voice. "It's not like I want to do this-" he brought the knife up to Zayn's throat, making him let out a gasp.
"Oh get out of it- it's not like I'm going to ever slit your throat," he snapped, choking him.
"Whot- are- you- going- to do!?" Zayn gasped.
"Just shut up and make this look like a kidnap so I get to say that I follow my boss's orders," he snapped.
"Well- then stop- choking- me!"
"Sorry, mate, can't!" the guy said, still holding onto his neck.
After about a few more minutes of Zayn still trying to bring up a conversation through the guy's forearm, the man let out a groan, "Blimey, do you ever stop talking? And how the ruddy hell are you still conscious!?"
He put a hand to Zayn's mouth, making him slowly shut his eyes.
"Ugh, finally- what do I do with him now, Ax?" the Brit said into his earpiece.
"What a show, you can drive him to the from of 1459 boulevard, we'll take you on."
