A/N: Coming from an foreign background, there may be cultural references that are butchered terribly in this story. Feel free to point them out and correct them. Same with any spelling mistakes, grammar, etc. Again if there are plot holes or parts that are hard to understand, drop them in the comments. English is not my first language, so be lenient. Enjoy and leave me some comments!
WARNING: This chapter contains mild violence, a slur, and naughty language. Skip if sensitive.
Music blared through the Shanghai Airport as Arin Blake leaned into her best friend Grace Zhang's seventh hug that day. "Welcome to New York, it's been waiting for you, welcome to New York, welcome to New York!" Earlier in the day, her father had driven Arin and Co. there and promptly departed without a proper goodbye. It didn't matter, however. The only farewell she cared about was the one with the people in front of her. She grinned as she picked up the words of the song. A good omen, I suppose. Those were rare, whenever they concerned Arin—or any member of the Blake family, for that matter.
A fresh start. Soon she would be free of the cursed family name, and the crushing expectations of an entire country.
"You'll miss me, will you?" She nodded mutely against Grace's shoulder, not trusting herself to speak without choking up. Her friends were the only thing in China she didn't want to leave behind. If I could take them with me, I would do it without any hesitation, she thought with a wistful longing. Alas, both her companions had their own respective schools to return to, and if Arin hated one thing more than loneliness, it was a ruined education. Perks of an Asian upbringing. She wrinkled her nose as she recalled the words her mother had given her upon their departure.
Bring honor to your country. Do us proud.
"Remember to text! We wanna hear every little detail of your time in America." Her other best friend Evan Choi teased from behind the pair. He grinned as Grace reached around Arin and swatted at his arm. "Well, maybe not every little detail. We don't wanna hear anything about what weird propaganda they're brainwashing you with over there. Bleh. American politics." Evan went to boarding school in England, which was probably where he'd gained his distaste for the country for. He spoke with a slight accent that had faded considerably after the course of the summer, accelerated by the girls' merciless ribbing.
"Our little Rin-rin's gonna come back all grown up and Americanized. Maybe with a handsome American boyfriend?" Grace teased, mirth sparkling in her eyes, which had gotten suspiciously misty. The older girl held Arin at arm's length, observing her outfit critically and tugging at her garments to straighten them.
"Not a chance," Arin smirked and allowed herself to be manhandled by her friend. Grace was the one with the most acutely developed fashion sense out of the three. She often subjected the pair to makeovers and pelted them with pieces of (unwanted) fashion advice, but right then, Arin was secretly grateful for her fussing. Her mother had never treated her this gently before.
Chin up. You are a member of the Pei family, and you will not bring shame to our noble reputation with your sloppy state of dress.
"Well, maybe not with those shoes. And your shirt can use a bit of filling out. When are you going to start growing boobs—"
"Okay, stop stop stop." Arin complained. "Don't defile Evan's ears with whether I have boobs or not. And you're one to talk, Gracey. I've already heard the way you go on about that boyfriend of yours. Imagine if Evan had to put up with both of our boy-crazy yammering."
Ever since the fateful summer of 2014, when Grace had first met her current boyfriend—a dashing member of the male species by the name of Simon Chung, whom she had been smitten with almost immediately—she had been talking their ear off nonstop about her infatuation. When Arin and Evan teased her about it, (And they often did, as payback for her makeovers) she would only wistfully sigh and blush. Evan used to joke that Grace was completely whipped for the dude—and indeed, love had turned the normally blunt, savvy Grace into a mushy damsel. Arin was glad to see her friend so happy, but—she shuddered at the thought of herself in such a state.
"I wouldn't mind, actually—" Evan piped up.
"Shutup, Evan," They chorused. Then they caught each other's eyes and burst into laughter amid Evan's indignant splutters. God, I'm going to miss this. A pang of nostalgia surged through Arin. She supposed this was what it felt like to be homesick.
The Pei family has always been renowned for their wills of iron. You are a girl of iron, and you will be strong. Strong people do not cry.
"Last call for Plane 212!"
Arin's eyes darted to the station. "I better go now—"
"Wait! I believe Evy here has something to give you." Grace nudged Evan in the side, glancing at Arin meaningfully.
"What? Jesus, stop poking me, that hurts, woman—Oh!" His eyes lit up as he realized what she was talking about. He fished around in his pocket, searching for something—
"Found it!" He thrust his hand in Arin's face proudly. Dangling from his fingers was a glittering necklace. He dropped it into her hand. It was an intricate little thing: delicate silver chain, small shiny pendant. Elegant looping metal bands encased a glistening white crystal. Tiny diamonds encrusted the thing, making the whole pendant sparkle like a miniature chandelier. The stones glinted as she fumbled with the necklace, the metal cool against her hand.
"Y-you shouldn't have," Arin breathed. Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at the piece of jewelry. How much had this cost?
"Zhang and I pitched in to buy it—think of it as something to remember us by." He coughed embarrassedly, rubbing his neck. "The seller also said…erm…"
"Apparently there's a disk of lead on the inside that absorbs radiation," Grace drawled. "Don't want you to turn into the second Hulk, don't we? All those nasty gamma rays floating around in America. Anyways, it's all a load of bull, if you ask me. I only forced Evy to buy it with me because I thought was pretty."
"There's lead in this?" Arin had been studying the necklace with interest until she heard the news. She recoiled as if the necklace had burnt her, almost dropping it. (There had been an aggravated "Oi!" from Evan and she stopped in time to escape his wrath.) Her mouth fell open in horror. "Are you two trying to poison me?"
"Not on the outside, of course," Evan reassured her hastily. "It won't be directly in contact with your skin, and Zhang thinks the whole lead thing is a scam anyways. You won't get lead poisoning from this…probably."
Arin was…not very reassured.
She eyed the necklace suspiciously, then sighed and clasped it around her neck. It settled comfortably against her clavicle, nestling between her chest and her blouse. "If I die from this, I'm haunting you two."
Grace didn't say anything, just enveloped Arin in another, final embrace, then stared expectantly at Evan. He lasted a whole two seconds before quailing under her gaze and went to hug her as well."For the record, it was her idea and not mine." He whispered in her ear. "Don't tell her that, though. She's bloody scary when she gets angry." Arin let out a short, watery laugh and pulled away, feeling like a monster for turning her back on the duo. She could feel their stares burning into the back of her head.
"Welcome to New York, it's been waiting for you!"
A fresh start. That was good, right?
She wasn't sure she deserved it.
Arin shifted in her seat and tried to ignore the close proximity of the very grumpy-looking member of the male population seated next to her, eyeing her backpack suspiciously like she was hiding a bomb in there. She had nothing against men, of course. It was the fact that he seemed to hold no regards for her personal space that irked her. Arin could smell cheap cologne coming off him, tinged with the hint of what vaguely smelled like alcohol. She blanched and groped for the armrest before realizing the seats had none equipped.
"Sir, would you mind moving to the side just for a bit?" She asked politely. At this point, she was going to asphyxiate before the plane took off. The man was unresponsive. She tried again, repeating the phrase in another language that she hoped he would understand. Arin had spent the majority of last night scribbling terms in her notebook frantically for this exact purpose. (A member of the Pei family is always prepared. You will not bring disgrace to us by fumbling like a commoner. )
"Hallo, können Sie sich weiter weg bewegen, bitte?"A bit choppy, and her tongue had stumbled over the harsh pronunciation of a couple words, but anyone who understood the language would get the gist of it. She observed him out of the corner of her was nothing but an annoyed twitch in response. She sighed, knowing that the man was either pretending or just didn't give a damn. She gave it another shot. "Не могли бы вы отойти от меня?" Arin was less familiar with this language than the last one, but it didn't matter. Her tactic had changed from courteous requesting to aggravating the man enough that he would move. "您能稍微挪一下吗？"
It was apparently the last straw for the annoyed and very likely inebriated man. "I know how to speak English, you brat!" He snapped. "I just don't answer to the likes of you. Take a hint and scram!"
Cangtian. What was this guy's problem?
"Excuse me?"
"It's bad enough I have to sit next to your kind—"
"Right. I'll leave." Arin said calmly, suppressing the urge to snipe at him or—god forbid—punch him in the face. There was really no point in exacerbating the argument. Everyone faced a bit of oppression in their life, and there was no point in getting worked up over it.
You will not take this slight to your name lying down. You will defend yourself, or other people will think you are weak, and they will only pick on you more.
Fine. She scowled, racking her brain for a peaceful solution—and coming up with a blank. Then she spotted the flight attendant."When in doubt, tell a responsible adult."That was something every grownup—even the irresponsible ones—had told Arin at some point in her life. She shrugged. It couldn't hurt to try.
"Excuse me, ma'am!"
"Yes?" The flight attendant strode over to the pair, high heels clicking on the floor. She smiled somewhat condescendingly as she took note of Arin's age and appearance. "What can I do for you today?" She spoke extra slowly, as if Arin was a child that couldn't understand speech.
All warfare is based on deception. When we are able to attack, we must seem unable.
If she thinks that I'm a child, I better let her believe it. Arin smiled back, widening her eyes imploringly. She deliberately pitched her voice an octave higher than usual, the image of a naive, gullible youth the flight attendant expected to see. "I don't think this person next to me likes me very much. Can I find another place to sit or something? If I stay here," she lowered her voice, as if she was scared the man might hear her. (It was all an act, of course. The man was closer to her than the flight attendant was.) "I think he might…hit me."
The flight attendant gasped. "Sweetie, I understand you might be scared, but all the seats on this plane are fixed by your ticket. You'll have to pay extra if you want to upgrade to business class, but," she eyed Arin again. "I don't think that's an option for you, dear. Where are your parents?"
They're not here, genius. Otherwise, why would I have asked for your help? Arin had opened her mouth, ready to convey the message in a more civilized manner, when he struck. Again.
The man was either very drunk, very reckless or very stupid when he chose to jeer at her if front of the flight attendant. "Yeah, run off to your precious yellow parents, you little dog-eating dunce—" Arin flinched as he shoved an offending finger in her face. There were a few gasps from the passengers within earshot. The flight attendant, who seemed to finally realize the severity of the situation, opened her mouth in a wide O of shock. Her eyes widened and she quickly started muttering into her walkie-talkie, no doubt calling for reinforcements. "Right, I'm afraid we'll need you to come with us, Mr…?"
"Jamesson," the man muttered. Realization dawned on his face as his drunk self figured out what the flight attendant meant. "Whaddya' mean, come with you? Shouldn't this delinquent be the one to move?"
The flight attendant gazed uncertainly at Jamesson, whom Arin had already taken the liberty of dubbing as Jerkwad in her mind. It certainly suits him better than his original name, she thought. "Well, sir, we are required to take safety measures when passengers such as yourself turn violent—"
Jerkwad thrashed in his seat, his entire body turning to face the attendant. The momentum of his overweight mass sent his flabby arms flailing randomly in the air. Unfortunately, the fat hand attached to one of said arms had managed to catch onto the nearest surface it could reach, which coincidentally happened to be Arin's face. The resounding SLAP it produced sent the entire cabin into deathly silence. There were some brief gasps of horror coming from the passengers nearby. One hand on her stinging cheek, Arin turned her head back from where it had been forcefully rotated by the slap to face the man, who did not look apologetic in the slightest.
"Sir, please remain calm—"
"I AM NOT LETTING THIS LITTLE BITCH FORCE ME OUT OF MY SEAT!" Jerkwad roared. The security guard had arrived in time to witness the whole fiasco and was physically restraining him, strapping him down to a nearby seat by the seatbelt. There was a whole lot of unnecessary force behind the movement that appeared to be originating from the flare of anger in the security guard's eyes. Apparently, no one liked grown men who slapped little girls for fun. Jerkwad ceased struggling against the security guard's tender ministrations and turned his ire back on Arin.
"Dog-eater! Yellow vermin! You'll rot in hell for this, you fuckin' chink!"
More gasps from the passengers. The flight attendant asked her if she was alright. She shrugged. The only thing that had suffered considerably from the blow was her pride. The shock hadn't subsided, but another emotion had started to take its place: anger. Red-hot coils of fury burned in the pit of her stomach. Sympathizing gazes roamed her way, but she refused to break down. I don't need your pity.
Avenge yourself. Foreigners have always looked down on our race, and they will continue to do so until you prove them wrong. Defend your country's honor.
Think, Arin. What would Grace do in this situation?
Punch him, undoubtedly. Evan would do something similar. Unfortunately, while that sounded satisfyingly vicious, Arin knew the difference between web novels and reality. Jamesson was at least twice her size, and she doubted she would able to do much damage through the layers of fat he possessed. Plus, it wasn't gentlemanly of her to raise her fists against someone who hadn't intentionally struck the first blow. She gritted her teeth. Screw being gentlemanly. I'm not even a gentleman, for Pusah's sake.
Well, if violence was off the table…
She recalled a conversation she once had with Evan during his first year abroad.
"Those airport checkups are bloody racist," he had complained. "They were letting everyone through until they saw me. Then they dragged me individually through security again. When the results turned up negative, they ordered me to open my suitcase in the middle of the airport."
"They were probably taking extra precautions," Arin had pointed out. "International travel is tricky like that."
"Yeah, well, they had these people holding up my possessions for the dogs to sniff. And this chap had found the cutlery kit my mum had packed for me—y'know, the one with the chopsticks?"
"Your Mom packs you a cutlery kit?!" Arin was incredulous until she saw Evan's flush. "Never mind, of course she does. Mama's boy."
"Anyways, this guy has my kit, and the chopsticks fall out. Everyone's deathly silent, until the fellow screams 'Jackie Chan!' and suddenly everyone's scrambling over themselves and apologizing, begging me not to beat them up. Apparently, they had taken me for a Kung-fu Master or something!"
"What? No!" Arin giggled.
"It turns even more ridiculous! Apparently, word spreads really fast in England, because next you know, my school knows about it! The story had gotten really twisted by the time, of course. Some people said I took on all of the security guards single-handedly with my chopsticks, and some people said I had an spirit possessing me. I even had some of the older guys ask me if I could curse someone for them. They thought I was a witch! I'm male, for goodness sake. I go to an all-boy's school! People are crazy."
She had almost dropped the phone; she was laughing too hard. Evan's boyish tone and his exaggerated language made it hard for her to take him seriously. "Anyways," he concluded with a wistful look in his eyes. "People will believe any drivel that comes from your mouth when you reference China. I've got half the school convinced with my 'mysterious Chinese' act, and no one dares to pick on me in class."
Arin had had a good laugh with over his anecdote at that time, never imagining it would be used for different purposes.
Now, though…
She smiled grimly, the beginnings of a plan forming in her head.
"What is this?" Jerkwad blustered, going white in the face. Arin looked up from where she was tracing random nonsensical Hanzi in the air.
"Why, I'm performing a dark ritual, of course. Did you think the only thing we yellow vermin did was eat dogs?" She resumed her hand-waving, not failing to catch the fear in his eyes. Some people nearby had caught on and were listening attentively, expressions of interest on their faces. Her smile widened.
"Witch." He muttered, realization dawning on his face. "You're a witch! Stop your tricks at once!"
"Aren't you curious what this one does?" She asked, smiling sweetly. "You are the subject, after all. My muqin taught me this one. She told me to reserve it for racist pigs who hit little girls. It does horrible things to it's victim, of course." Ignoring Jamesson's splutters, she started chanting, loud enough for everyone listening to hear: "汉堡包，三明治，巧克力蛋糕，冰淇凌…" ("Hamburgers, sandwiches, chocolate cake, and ice cream…")
The people who did understand Mandarin had to tamp down their snorts as her words registered in their brains. Some explained to their neighbors. Jerkwad was clueless, as usual. Everything was going exactly to plan…
The opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself. For her prank to work successfully, she had counted on two things: the fact that Jerkwad couldn't understand Mandarin, and the willingness of the audience to pull the wool over his eyes. Both of them were easy enough to determine. Arin had hissed a few Chinese phrases in his direction, deducing from his reaction that he didn't comprehend her words. As for the audience, she had noticed a large portion of the people in the cabin had noticeably bristled when he had slapped Arin; it was clear who's side they would favor when the blood started flying. By spouting racist claptrap, Jerkwad had single-handedly made enemies out of the entire cabin. And he was doing it again. "Don't you dare try your voodoo tricks on me, you little Ching-Chong—"
"鸡蛋，鸭蛋，荷包蛋！" Arin bellowed, raising her voice above his. Her hand-waving was getting erratic, a sight which clearly alarmed the obese man. Voodoo isn't even Chinese, she thought. It's West African. Jerkwad can't even get his superstitions straight.
("Eggs, duck eggs, and omelettes!")
"Why aren't you stopping her?!" The man's voice was a strangled whisper now as he jabbed a meaty finger at the flight attendant. "You! Waitress! Why aren't you shutting her up! She's a witch! She's going to kill us all!" His face was contorted with terror, yet no one paid his rambling any attention. Arin wasn't one to revel in others' fear, but she had to admit: the expression filled her with a sort of dark, vindictive glee. Serves him right for being a stereotyping git.
"JESUS! STOP! Stop, okay? I'm sorry!"
Arin paused from her chanting. "What are you sorry for?" She asked coolly.
"I'msorryforhittingyou!"
"What else?"
"What?!"
"I'm not doing this for my own sick amusement." She gestured to everyone in the cabin. "Not only do you need to apologize to me, you need to apologize to everyone you directly and indirectly insulted with your callous language. That includes the flight attendant you called a waitress—"
She nodded at the flight attendant.
"—and the all Chinese people present. You owe them an explanation for the slurs you've just used."
She even helpfully translated for the members of audience that didn't understand English. "大家都听着！这位先生刚刚发表了严重歧视中国人的言论。他马上要为他的所作所为道歉。 你可以选择原谅他，或你也可以选择不接受他的道歉。无论如何，我们要让他再也说不出侮辱中国人的话！"（"Everyone listen up! This gentleman just said something extremely racist, and he's going to apologize for his actions now. You have to choice to forgive him or ignore his apology. Either way, we're going to make sure he doesn't insult the people of China ever again!")
His face turned white, then red, and finally purple from frustration. She watched in horrified fascination; all that blood rushing back and forth couldn't possibly have been good for him.
"Well?"
"Fine!" He burst out. "I'm…sorry, for being racist. And I shouldn've called the…attendant a waitress."
"That sufficient enough for you?" Arin asked, addressing the flight attendant. The woman said yes, looking slightly dazed.
Time to deliver the final blow.
"If you ever call anyone those slurs again, I will personally ensure that curse is finished, and you will wish you were dead," she hissed at the man threateningly. "I was lenient with you this time. You will not be so lucky next time. Understand?" He nodded, eyes wide with fear. Satisfied, Arin waltzed back to her seat.
Well, that was mildly terrifying, she thought, closing her eyes. It had been such a rash, spur-of-the-moment thing to do. At least those public-speaking classes Muqin booked had paid off. Waves of adrenaline coursed through her veins. She now understood what activists felt like when they spoke onstage. She could feel the public's eyes on her: some judging, some approving, and some apathetic. She felt like cringing.
Well, at least I defended my honor. Will my ancestors be proud of me now?
Everything was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Then—
The cabin burst into applause. Startled, she tensed in her seat but quickly relaxed as her lips quirked into a small smirk, basking in the glory of her victory. People she had never known before were coming over to congratulate her and pat her on the back; even the Chinese elderly, whom had gained quite the reputation for being notoriously displeased with young people, were nodding in approval. One even tried to set her up for a blind date with her son. (Arin politely rejected the offer, stating flatly that she was underage. That managed to scare her—and a surprising number of other hopefuls— away.)
A warrior is humble in the face of victory. Do not gloat, or the next defeat will be your own.
The flight attendant chose this moment to appear at the front of the cabin, wheeling a cart full of beverages. She skipped Jerkwad, instead making made a beeline for Arin. "Coke or Sprite?"
Arin politely asked for the latter.
"Sprite it is," the flight attendant said with a smirk of her own. She winked at Arin and handed her a cup that—she noticed with a jolt—was noticeably larger than the rest. "That was mighty nice of you back there, sticking up for me like that."
"Anytime." Arin accepted the cup gratefully. She took a large sip of the drink before hastily typing an incoherent text to Evan and turning on airplane mode. Pointedly ignoring Jerkwad's glare, she popped her earbuds in and clicked on the first song she could find in her Spotify playlist.
The dulcet tones of We Are The Champions filled her head as the plane took off.
Arin landed unscathed, hooray. Jamesson hadn't tried to murder her in her sleep. Miracles existed.
Her stomach, however, wasn't as lucky.
"I think I'm gonna regurgitate," she confided in the empty air next to her. It was weird, since she was relatively certain that she had slept through the duration of the flight, missing all of the nasty airplane food and therefore depriving her stomach of anything to upchuck. She chalked it up to airsickness.
The flight attendant raised an eyebrow at her (undoubtedly green) face.
Arin checked her phone. A conspicuous 4:55 glared back at her. Turning off airplane mode, she discovered 99 unread messages. Thirty of them were from Grace, one was from Evan and the rest were in their shared group chat. She opted to check Evan's first.
Abirdissoarin:hrghsfghjktakignoff
Evenifiwerentawesome:hello to you too sunshine
She tried to come up with a good retort, but her brain protested. Her hands shook, unable to complete a single word. She ended up sending him back a crude gesture and a smiley face.
Look at you. Quailing from even the simplest of challenges. What would your ancestors say?
Shut up, she grumbled at the voice of her mother. She wasn't in the mood.
"What is the purpose of your visit?"
"Sight-seeing." Arin replied blandly. Her knees trembled just from the effort of standing. She surprised she'd even made it here without puking. Her airsickness seemed to be getting worse despite being on solid ground.
The lady at customs gave her a quizzical look.
"I study here. Scholarship to Midtown High." She explained.
"Enjoy your visit." The stamp slammed onto the surface of her passport, eliciting another wince from her as her brain throbbed. "Your English is very good," the lady informed her.
Clutching at her head, Arin fought back another wave of nausea.
The suitcase dwarfed her small frame as she lugged it through the airport. Arin knew it looked ridiculous. She had had qualms about buying it in the first place, even though Evan had insisted.
"You'll be able to carry lots of stuff!" He had said.
"It'll make things easier for you!" He had said.
Arin had been a fool to believe him.
Oh well. Look on the bright side, Arin. At least I'm stupid-looking enough that whoever's going to pick me up will spot me before I fall down. The thought was oddly comforting. It certainly quashed the desire to hop on a plane, fly back, and flay Evan Choi alive. Her searching eyes raked through the small assembly, spotting a sign. The words 'Arin Blake' was scrawled on it in untidy letters. Her head swam, and she averted her gaze.
The owner of the sign was a balding, middle-aged male in a suit. She squeezed her eyes shut. The sight alone was enough to bring another bout of vertigo to her overloaded brain. "Here," she managed to croak out. The man noticed her. His eyes lit up in recognition.
"You must be Miss Blake! It's a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Queens! The name's Toomes, but you can call me uncle Adrian if you want." He held out his hand for her to shake. Arin was dizzy with nausea, but she managed to grip it. Her insides squirmed violently. There was something other than queasiness, a sense of foreboding she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she managed to retain her manners despite her unease.
A member of the Pei family is always polite, even if the other person doesn't deserve it. You will remain your decorum, young lady, or you will face the Jiechi.
"Nice to meet you." She choked out in a strained voice.
"How was the plane ride?" He asked, taking one look at her face and chuckling. "Airsick? Never mind, you don't need to talk." Arin followed him to his car and slumped in the backseat. Her mind, buzzing from the airsickness—Was it even airsickness at this point?—was unresponsive to what was Toomes was saying, only catching snatches of speech here and there—
"—your father entrusted me to you as your legal guardian, and you'll be staying at mine for a while—"
The car turned sharply, throwing Arin against the window. She closed her eyes again despairingly. It was going to be a long ride.
By the time they eventually stopped at a building complex, she was ready to crash. Arin swayed dangerously in the elevator as Toomes pressed the button to their floor. "Woah, woah. Don't die on me now." He joked. She did not find it amusing in the slightest. Neither did her stomach.
"We're here." Toomes announced as he threw the door open and ushered Arin in. "You can unpack upstairs. Bathroom's on the right, and there's a kitchen further in. I'll be visiting you once a week, and giving you your allowance from your father—"
"Where' you gonna live?" Arin slurred. She frowned. That was weird. She normally didn't speak like that. Maybe it was the sleepiness. But she had slept through a fifteen-hour flight….maybe she was sick? Even through the churning of her stomach, she could tell that something was very, very wrong. She stared without seeing at the thick layer of dust accumulated on the floor, the vacant living room devoid of furniture, and the grime on the walls. The contours of the apartment blurred and swirled together, creating the world's largest, most dizzying whirlpool.
"Well, I do have other things to do…business trips, the such…I don't usually stay home."
"That's not it," she insisted, frowning. Her voice sounded dull, as if she was underwater. Were those mushrooms on the ceiling? Whatever they were, they were large and pink and sparkly. She wanted to grab one and take a bite out of it. Shaking off the distraction, Arin tried very hard to recall what her Fuqin had told her. She brightened as she figured it out. "There's no one here! Fuqin told me you have a daughter…this isn't your home, isn't it?"
For a second, a series of expressions flitted across Toomes' creased face. Arin giggled. He looked funny, like one of the Bianlian Masters her Muqin always took her to watch. Muqin would love to see this. Finally, the man gave up the facade of benevolence completely. His expression settled to one of annoyance as he regarded her.
"Ever the nosy brat, eh?"
Arin froze, not sure if she was hearing him correctly.
"What?"
Her blood ran cold as she heard the click of a gun. Icy metal pressed to her head, and all her sleepiness left her at once. He eyed her with contempt. "Looks like I should have told the flight attendant you a larger dose. Even drugged, you're incredibly meddlesome."
The flight attendant drugged me?! How? She hadn't eaten any food on the plane, and the only thing she had ingested was the Sprite the attendant had given her, but all the passengers seemed to be fine, and they had drunk from the same bottles. Plus, the flight attendant had told her to choose between two beverages. How had she known I'd choose the Sprite? There was no way she'd drugged the entire cabin just so she could get to—then it hit her.
That backstabber. How could she? Arin had stood up for her and trusted her, and she had repaid her by drugging the girl.
Cangtian, how could she be so stupid?
"She tampered with my cup," she groaned. How had she not been suspicious of the cup that had been so conspicuously different from the others? The flight attendant had been right to treat her like a brainless child; she certainly felt like one right now. Arin flinched at the sting of betrayal.
"Well, well, aren't you one smart cookie?" Toomes remarked. Arin glared at him. "Don't look at me like that, it was for your own good. Couldn't have you stirring up a fuss at the airport, could I?"
If a battle can not be won, do not fight it. Her mother's voice warned.
Screw the warning, then. Fear, adrenaline and anger clashed in her brain. The lust for battle sung in her blood and she embraced it, charging at Toomes with her fist raised—
She tripped over herself and fell flat on her face.
"Easy there, solder. Don't overexert yourself. There are still big plans for you tomorrow." He patted her on the head. His features had melted to a single, shapeless blob on his face. It was not a pretty sight. Arin screamed at him.
He withdrew his hand as if she was something nasty. "There, there. Now, as much as I'm enjoying this little…conversation, my family will be wondering where I am. It really was nice meeting you, given the…unfortunate circumstances, of course. I do wish our next meeting would be more pleasant." Mold-covered, deformed growths shaped like blobs had begun to rise from the floor, climbing onto her limbs. She tried to scramble away from them, but stopped as something large and black was thrust in front of her.
Bile rise to her throat as the man dangled the gun in front of her face. "There never were bullets in this baby, by the way." He informed her smugly as he stepped out the door. Arin was alone, left to be devoured by her hallucinations as her mother's voice resonated in her head.
The wise warrior avoids the battle. Have you taken my words for wind in your ears, little girl?
So much for a warm welcome.
Chapter End Notes:
Some terms in Pinyin:
汉子 Hanzi - chinese character
母亲 Muqin - mother
父亲 Fuqin - father
菩萨 Pusah - short for 观音菩萨 Guanyin Pusa, the bodhisattva of infinite compassion and mercy in Chinese Buddhism
苍天 Cangtian - the Chinese equivalent of 'Oh, Heavens!'
变脸 BianLian - The ancient Chinese art of swapping masks as a form of entertainment. Literally means to Change Face
戒尺 Jiechi - a wooden ruler specially designed for the discipline of children
First chapter of WYDK! The second and third ones are coming right up after they're proofread and polished. There is no set time for updates, as my writing seems to vary with my for clarification, the story is set in 2015, a year before Spider-Man: Homecoming. As for the 'voodoo ritual' prank, it was an idea I got from one of my friends as they were similarly misunderstood while traveling to America.
Tell me what you think about the story in the comments!
-love from sodabubble
Disclaimer: I do not own MCU or its Characters. They belong to Marvel.