A pair of Katanas

1.happenings

  "Hey,dad." I grinned as I walked into the apartment. "What're we doing  for dinner?"

My father looked up from his computer. Papers were strewn all over the place and an empty mug of coffee stood abandoned at the edge of the desk.

His tired eyes still managed to sparkle as he said, "I was thinking we'd order in today. I've got some work I need to finish. Is there anything you're craving for, in particular?"

"Oh."

  Dinner dates with my dad was the best part of my day. He had such a good sense of humour, and we'd often end up stumbling out of restaurants, wheezing with laughter.

I shook the crestfallen look off my face before he could notice.

"Yeah, that's fine. Tacos sound good?"

"No problemo!" He winked and typed in our local Mexican restaurants website.

I kicked off my Trainers and dumped my gym bag on the floor. Before making a beeline to the couch, I stopped at the kitchen to dig out some ice cream from the freezer.

I plopped down onto the couch and ripped of the ice cream lid. Then I proceeded to dig my spoon into the  creamy goodness and shoved it in my mouth, groaning in delight.

"How was Taekwondo practice?" Dad asked, eyes fixed on his screen.

"It was okay. Tiring, though. Hopefully I make the team."

"I'm sure you will."

Smiling to myself, I reached for the television remote and pressed "on".

Space Heroes?

"Hey dad. This looks like another version of Star Trek."

"Hm?" His ears perked up. "Well, maybe I'll check it out sometime."

  He's always loved Star Trek. His prized collection of posters and action figures made it pretty obvious.

"Oh dear." He muttered.

"What?"

"They can't deliver. Not enough staff. I'll have to go get the tacos myself."

He looked disappointedly at the papers cluttered around him.

"I'll go." I offered "You stay and get that work done."

He grinned appreciatively at me.

"Thanks,sweetie"

He passed me a few notes, which I pocketed. Sliding on some loafers, I unlocked the front door and made my way down the building.

~•~

The cutting wind of New York whipped at my cheeks, turning them a shade of pink. The air smelled like cigarettes and freshly baked bread.
Weird combo, I know, but it's New York.

I plugged in my earpiece, allowing Spotify's shuffle feature to surprise me. I smiled upon hearing the newest addition to my daily playlist- 'I wish I never met you' by Babygirl.
So far, I was having a pretty good time by myself.

I pushed open the door to the restaurant, surprised to see the owner of the restaurant standing behind the counter, alone. They really must have been short-handed.

"Hello, Mija" The elderly woman said. "I'm so sorry we couldn't deliver. My grandson is just finishing your order. Why don't you take a seat?"

"Thanks, uhh-"

"Call me Nana Fausta." She beamed.

Smiling at her, I took a seat and begun scrolling through my Instagram feed.

It was then that a piercing sound echoed throughout the restaurant. My attention snapped to the glass doors that had just been shattered. A bullet rolled around a few feet away.

Someone had just shot through the glass.

I inched down my seat, taking refuge underneath the table,  praying that I wouldn't be discovered. Shock flooded through my veins, making my cheeks break out in cold sweat. With trembling fingers I texted my father an "I love you," before shoving my handphone into my pocket, so as to not draw attention.

From my spot I could see three figures march into the restaurant. They all wore black and had tattoos that covered their arms.

"Faustina! Payment is late." Said one of them. He had unkempt black hair and a scrawny build.

"I don't owe you anything, ugly!" Nana Fausta screeched. "Leave before I call the cops!"

One of the thugs let out a throaty chuckle, and I contemplated becoming religious again.

He whipped out a knife that was coated in some reddish-brown substance that looked like it had dried.

I heard a thump, and upon craning my neck, I saw that Nana Faustina had fainted.

Her grandson came running out. I recognised him from his spot on my schools Football team.

Cyrus Alfonso. My school's Mr heartthrob.

He too, fainted at the sight of "blood."
Hm. Must run in the family.

"It's not even blood." Scrawny snickered, eyeing the pair on the floor. "Just rust."

"Shut up. Get as much money as you can."  The other ordered.

The three smashed open the register, piling notes and coins into a sack.

And then it happened.

The atmosphere changed , and a tall,muscly silhouette dominated the entrance.

"Ah, the purple morons."  He challenged.
"You never learn, do you?"