SS FF

Chp 1

It's been three years since I literally got the Kur beaten out of me, and to be honest, not much has changed. I still go on missions with mom, dad, Fisk, Komodo, and sometimes even Uncle Doyle, but it has gotten tougher since I can no longer control the cryptids. That just means I've gotten stronger though, physically as well as mentally. It's pretty sweet, and I think Wadi likes it just as much as I do. However, with each awesome workout I get, comes great soreness. Just like my dad said to me when he first told me that he and mom thought I was supposed to save the world, "With each action comes an equal and opposite reaction." Well, really those were Newton's words, but I heard them from dad first.

That soreness that I'm talking about, it's happening right now. Yesterday, we had a humongous fall out trying to defend our airship from a flock of iguana-like bats with bug eyes. Trust me, nothing like a good defense to make you use all of your strength. I definitely pushed myself past my limit, so as result, I was laying on the couch, heating pads covering every inch of me, groaning and moaning in complete agony. Was I being a little overdramatic? Well, yeah, but what else was I supposed to do? Fisk was sleeping, Komodo was chasing beetles, my parents were in the lab, and Doyle…well, actually, Doyle's right beside me, with the t.v. on full blast. Every so often he'll look over and tell me to suck it up, and I just groan louder. Uncle Doyle is still one of the coolest people I know, and he's always pretty wild, but today I guess we both just kind of felt lazy and irritated.

After a few moments of just sitting there, the room went completely silent.

"Hey, Drew, what gives?" Uncle Doyle snarled. Oh my god, if this sibling rivalry shit happens again, I don't care how sore I am, I am sprinting to my room.

"What gives is that we have a visitor," mom snapped, lifting a brow, "She was knocking on the wall outside. We want Zak to check it out, see if it's just some kid goofing around or not."

"But mom," I let out a prolonged groan, "why me? I'm so sore from yesterday!"

"Because she looks around your age, and a nice quick stretch will be good for those aching bones," she says, sauntering over and pecking my forehead. I wipe away at where she kissed.

"Mom, stop it with those kisses, I'm not eleven anymore."

"I will kiss my baby boy as I please, and you will do as I say. Now, go see what that girl wants."

Since I know better than to challenge mom on the little stuff, I slowly push myself up off the couch and limp to the exit.

"Hey, if she's cute and eighteen, don't be afraid to bring her in," Uncle Doyle called out jokingly. I would've laughed with him, if mom hadn't slapped him upside the head, so instead I laughed at him.

Once I was outside, I walked opposite of the cliff, to the main sector of the wall. Once there, I heard a faint humming. It wasn't like an electrical hum from one of dad's inventions, it was more like a melody. It was actually kind of pretty.

I logged into the security system to let me see who was on the other side of the wall, and first thing I see are these rose red curls, almost completely blocking her face. All I could see of her face were pink stained lips. She wasn't exactly short, but she definitely wasn't tall.

"Hey, look up," I spoke into the microphone, alerting her of my presence, "To your right."

Her head flicked up, curls bouncing everywhere, and immediately I'm pierced by bright, baby blue eyes, framed by an angular, heart-shaped face, and freckles spreading from cheek to cheek, crawling up to her forehead and sneaking down her neck. She stared straight into my mind through the security camera, with a stern look on her features.

"Do you know this man?" she asked holding up a picture of, I couldn't believe it, Uncle Doyle.

This girl was only about my age, in the middle of a forest, somehow by my house, and asking for my uncle. It seemed pretty suspicious, so I questioned, "Why?"

"I need to talk to him," she replied, her eyes lighting up with energy.

"Do you have any weapons?" I had to ask, this was all really vague.

"Weapons, why would I-? No, okay, I don't! Every time I ask for him, people get super defensive like I'm going to destroy something! What has he done? Where has he been? Why is everyone so terrified?! Look I don't have anything with me, just some food, clothes, money, a journal, and my ukulele, which I'm not going to waste by hitting some meathead on the temple with! Is this man here or not?!" she was so enraged, it was interesting. One moment, she was so calm and professional, the next, I struck an invisible chord and boom went the dynamite. I had to let her in, if not solely to see how she'll treat my uncle.

"Yeah, he's in here. Hold on a sec," I say punching in the code, watching the doors slide open with ease. She stands there, cheeks puffed and bottom lip in a pout still from her rant earlier. While she's still, I take time to notice her outfit. Black leggings, gray combat boots, a muted blue tunic, and a bright pink backpack. She was dressed really casually. She clutches the picture of Doyle in one hand, and absently rubs the neck of her ukulele in the other. She moves, finally, stuffing the picture of Doyle in the side pocket of her backpack, and then holding out that same hand.

"Felicity Anne Carver," she introduced. I took her hand and firmly shook it.

"Zak Saturday. Come on, I'll show you to him."