The Assailants

3. The Kitchen incident

"That's great! If you're joining here, I won't even have to peel these tomatoes—I'll just sit and watch."

My ears twitched at the voice behind me.

Ugh... lazy brat.

"Shut up, you useless lump! Why don't you retire already and save the rest of us the trouble?" I snapped, turning.

The cook's pleasant face crinkled in embarrassment. She gave me a shy smile and a fake laugh. "Ignore him. He's always like that," she said, resuming her work.

I turned to see the source of the irritation: a disgusting man, already gripping a kitchen knife, his nose flaring with fury.

Oh no...

He lunged.

I grabbed a chopping board without thinking. The motion was instinctive, sharp, precise. I swung—swift enough to knock the knife from his hand and disable him.

He scrambled, looking for another weapon. His eyes darted to the nearest chopping board.

Not today.

I grabbed the knife he had dropped and aimed for the edge of the board he raised—just enough to scare him, not harm. The blade clanged against the wood. He froze, trembling, eyes wide behind the board.

Silence.

The workers peeked from the hallway, jaws dropped. Even Jasper stopped moving, frozen mid-step.

Gulp.

I kicked the board away and took a step forward.

"What's going to happen to him?" a voice whispered behind me.

"Pakora will be punished," Jasper's majestic tone left no doubt. "After everything, he cannot go unpunished."

"What do you mean?" I spun to face him, ready to defend, when his men entered to apprehend Pakora. I instinctively stepped in.

"It's alright, lady," Pakora muttered, standing upright. "I've made mistakes with Aunt Grazilda and with you. Please... forgive me."

He passed me with a sad smile, allowing himself to be escorted away.

I opened my mouth to argue, to offer guidance, but he shook his head and walked on, leaving the door of redemption just barely ajar.

Once he was gone, the kitchen erupted in activity again. The workers cleaned the mess Pakora and I had made, murmuring among themselves.

I exhaled and wiped my hands. This is just training, I reminded myself. Fast. Sharp. Efficient. Nothing wasted. No theatrics—just necessity.

Because in my world, reflexes weren't a show—they were survival.

"Czar... what are you?" Jasper suddenly removed the towel from his nose, eyes narrowing at me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

I glanced around. The workers' heads turned, waiting for my answer.

"What am I? What do you mean by that?" I chuckled and grabbed an onion, slicing it bit by bit with precise, almost theatrical movements. "I just acted on instinct. Hard to believe, but I'm Wonder Woman... married Superman... and we had a baby we named... Super Wonderful Girl."

The kitchen erupted in laughter. Even Jasper's glare couldn't completely silence them, though the volume softened.

He yanked me out of the kitchen and locked the door behind us. "Don't make fun of me! I'm serious!" His finger jabbed at me, lips pressed in a tight line.

Uh oh... Czar, maybe dial it back.

I closed my eyes, blew out a breath, then opened them again. "Fine, I'm sorry. I... enrolled in a martial arts school and trained hard, including weapons. That's it! End of story!"