Clare
The Lucky Dragon Tea Room was an old school Chinese tea bar where people could come and peacefully read their books and drink their expensive jasmine tea. It was my favorite place to be. I could go there and escape from the outside world of technologic people and feel like I was in an ancient Chinese parlor. There were paper lanterns and pillow cushions to sit on. I was reading from my handheld electric book since nobody used paper anymore to make books.
My sister, Irene, came into the room and sat down in front of me on a cushion. "Clare, I knew I would find you here. Listen, keep your head low, alright?" She turned her back on the door and tried to conceal her face from the other people in the Tea Room.
I sat down my electric book. "What did you do now?"
Irene had a persuasion for causing trouble with the local police. She never did anything terribly wrong, but when she had the urge she acted impulsively. She usually came running to me to hide and to get out of trouble. Today it seemed as if she was just going to hide from the situation she caused.
"It's not important," she murmured. She had narrow eyes the color of cold ashes. Her luxurious, straight, long hair was the color of rich cream and she was tall with an athletic build.
A couple of men dressed in all black, like ninjas, came through the door and looked around the place.
"You angered a group of Sliceclads?" My eyes widened as I started to put my electronic book into my side bag.
"Sorta." She fake smiled.
Sliceclads were the mean traditional officers you surly did not want coming after you. They carried long swords on their back and were not ever afraid to wear them in public. Nobody had ever seen their face either. They always had black masks covering their whole face except their eyes. Even then their eyes were fierce and menacing. They were quickly moving around the large room examining every person from head to toe.
"We need to leave. If the Sliceclads catch you, you may not make it." Slowly I stood up with my sister. "Run to the back door." We started to run. The tallest Sliceclad looked our way and yelled for us to stop.
We reached the backdoor to the alley way. The moon was shining high in the cloudily sky making it barely visible to run down the grimy thin fog alley way. Irene was running ahead of me leading me around garbage cans in the way. The Sliceclads came through the door and began chasing us down the alleyway. They ran faster than us and were catching up.
"Hurry," Irene yelled as she turned left around the corner, leaving the alleyway. As I turned the corner one of the Sliceclads grabbed my arm. I screamed of fear my arm would be chopped off. Irene came up and kicked the Sliceclad in the leg. He let go of me and we rushed down the empty sidewalk. It was midnight and the city was asleep. We were about the reach Irene's motorcycle when a Sliceclad jumped above us and landed right in front of us with his sword out ready to slice.
"Stop," the Sliceclad said in a low monotone voice making him seem more threatening.
"Crap," Irene muttered. The rest of the Sliceclads came up behind us and prevented us from running away.
"You are under arrest," the Sliceclad in front of us said. Two came up behind us and zip tied our hands behind our backs.
"Way to go Irene," I grumbled.
We were taken down to the Metro Criminal Division Jail cells; Irene was sitting on one of the benches beside a smelly lady wearing too much makeup and revealing clothes while I paced up and down in the cell. "We have been in here for an hour. What are we going to do? Who is going to pick us up?" I asked going back and forth.
"Stop moving so much," Irene said coolly. "You're reminding me of that pong game."
"Well, you aren't doing much help sitting there on your butt," I said, rolling my eyes.
"You're not doing much help pacing back and forth," Irene said. She was picking at her nicely manicured hands. "We'll be fine."
"Who will pick us up then? Not Dad or Mom," I said rudely. I stopped pacing and crossed my arms standing right in front of Irene.
"It's not my fault," Irene said under her breath. She ceased missing with her hands and crossed her arms. She looked away from me and stared at the dirty floor.
"It is your fault. You are the one who angered the Sliceclads." I stared her down.
"Whoa, a Sliceclad," said a man standing right outside the jail cells. This calm guy had deep-set blue eyes that were like two sapphires and his silky, curly, smoke-gray hair was worn in a style that reminded me of a waterfall. He had a thin build and his skin was white. He had full lips and his wardrobe was dignified. It was Mac Hardy; my dad's old friend.
"Mac," Irene and I jumped and went straight to where he was standing. "What are you doing here," Irene asked with a grin on her face.
"Getting you two girls out of here," he said smiling. A cop came up and unlocked the jail door. "Even more you have some explaining to do Irene," he said sternly to her. Behind him was the TV mounted to the wall and the new headline was: "Encom Has No New Product?"
"Ugh," Irene sighed. Mac Hardly led us out of the building. As we passed a man sitting at his desk Irene gave him a fist pump and said "see you next time Carl."
Mac stood sternly on the sidewalk with his arms crossed. "Care to explain," he said with this stern voice.
"Look, I get it, OK. You want to watch out for us," Irene chuckled. "I understand, but that doesn't mean you can come and start telling me what to do, Mac. I'm twenty-four. I know how this all goes. I mean, besides, I made you Chairman of Encom ever since Dad died."
I looked at Irene with this look of disappointment. "Mac just got us out of jail. You should be thankful."
"I could get myself out at anytime. I just chose not to," Irene said with a tone of pride. "Look of it this way also Mac. That 'new product' Encom was about to put on their selves was crap and you know it! Who wants to buy some over produced video game console every home already has?" She raised her eyebrows. "Come on now."
"It is not for you to just destroy," Mac said not losing his firm grasp on the situation. "You cannot brake into the building, open up the doors for the public to just come and take the games, then walk away as if nothing had happened!"
Irene was laughing. "This is not funny," I said. "You wasted all of Encom's money by giving away those products!"
"Those 'products' were first designed by my father, Sam Flynn, and my grandfather, Kevin Flynn, to be free for the public! Digital entertainment like that should be-"
"That is enough," Mac said running Irene off from her speech. "I understand what this is. You want to keep your fathers spirit alive…"
"Of course," Irene muttered.
"Hmp," Mac smiled. "Just like your father…look, I'll let this slide…for now." He looked at Irene with compassion. "But no more of this; you are going to destroy the company completely."
"Fine by me," Irene said and smiled.
Mac looked as if he wanted to admit something, but he held it back. "I have something for you…that is another reason why I came to get you out of jail." He fiddled with his hand in his pocket. "You two do know about your grandfather's old arcade, correct?"
"Of course," I said. "I remember Dad taking us there to play some of the games."
"Right," Mac smiled. "Your Dad sure had a thing for games. We used to stay there all night and play those games," Mac looked away as if remembering. "…can you two meet me for lunch tomorrow?" He looked at his wrist watch. "It is rather late."
"Sure," Irene said nodding.
"I have school," I grumbled.
"Oh, that is right," Mac said. "Maybe Irene and I can have lunch and tell you all about it?"
"Fine," I sighed. "I wish I could be there though."
"I know…" Mac said. "Well, goodnight girls." He smiled and turned walking down the sidewalk.
"What do you think he wants to talk about," I asked Irene as we walked to the car depo that was holding her motorcycle.
"No idea," she said. She showed the guy at the counter a piece of paper and greeted him, "how's it going Toby?"
"Same as usual," said the guy with almost non-existent eyebrows and a pointed chin.
"Sucks," she chuckled. "Well, night." She walks away with me following behind her. "Where do you think you going?" She picks up her black helmet.
"Home…with you…" I said shyly. "Come on, it is not the first time I rode a bike."
"Fine," she sighed. She hands me over her helmet. "Hold on though, I want to get home."
I still lived in the same condo Dad and Mom lived in with me, but my sister had the luxury of having her own apartment. She had never taken me to see it or ever told me where she lived, but I always imagined it would be so cool to live by myself. I remember asking her if I could live with her when The Incident happened, but she simply stated she had no room for me and moved on.