CHAPTER 3:

In Honor To Gandalf

A hurl of stomach contents later into a wooden bucket had Vivian sitting down on the comfy sleeping pillows as she stared straight ahead at the wall before her. The nasty tinge of vomit remained in her mouth and the accompanied dryness of the desert heat wasn't making it better. She couldn't glance down at her white robes as they were a stark reminder of where she really was and decided that staring at nothing would be best.

If her consciousness really was here, then her mind would have a hard time adjusting to this sudden culture- no, time shock. People didn't time travel for vacation purposes and to let loose; this would practically defy the laws of physics! Altaïr stood in the doorway with that intimidating posture of his and without glancing at his friend, stated coldly, "I think she's broken."

Malik shot him a stern glance for his chosen words and walked over to the silent woman to block her view with his presence. Her green eyes blinked in surprise to his intrusion and he soothed gently, "I am Malik-

"A-Sayf, I know" she finished quietly for him and rubbed her left eye in exhaustion. Her injuries had been cleansed with water and alcohol after Malik taught her how and the cuts were tough evidence to deny. Weakly, she sighed depressingly, "I know all about you and your order, all about the Templars, the ongoing Crusades. . ."

"What is your name?" Altaïr's voice demanded sharply and Malik uttered a sigh for his lack of tact in delicate matters.

She closed her eyes to lean her head back, blocking what she wanted to deny, and answered, "Vivian Shore."

"What else can you tell us?" he pressed at the English sounding name and Malik shot him a heated glare at his interrogating. Malik tended to coax answers out of civilians that were in shock but his partner in crime wasn't the same. Altaïr simply didn't care, Malik should've been happy that he wasn't beating it out of her like most of his victims (not to mention not killing her afterwards). The sound of her name alone sent his mind on alert and the fingers of his left hand wouldn't hesitate on revealing his blade.

"You mean 'how do I know all this stuff about you', right?" she corrected curtly to his brusque manner of speaking and scoffed to state bluntly, "Like I said, you're supposed to be fake-"

Altaïr growled to her confusing ramblings and it only fueled his incentive to know everything as he snapped heatedly, "This is real, very real, woman. People are fighting to possess the Holy Land, cities are falling, people from all ages are dying- don't tell me this asinine lie of this being illusionary. Do you want me to cut you again so you can see your own blood dripping onto the floor and touch its warmth to assure you of its validity?"

"I know the Crusades are real, I know Acre has fallen and Cyprus is possessed by Richard while he fights with Phillip II on tactics" she explained matter-of-factly from all of the history books relating to that era and opened her eyes to match his cold stare. She was lost to where she really was but one thing she knew was her history. Easily, she pointed out without pause from the known records, "I know Saladin will try to make a treaty that will fail and both groups will play tug of war with more treaties, Richard will use the guise of the Assassin's Order to kill his cousin who's supposed to lead Acre, and in 1192, a three year treaty will be signed between Richard and Saladin to end the Third Crusade. The Holy Land will never be captured by Christian forces."

"Other than that. . .I'm a Scorpio, twenty-one, Catholic, a knowledge sponge, a gamer, a computer nerd, an environmentalist, a history and psychology double major; I have two sisters, a dad, a pet Pomeranian, a pissed off Rex rabbit, bookcases filled with books, and live across the ocean in the year 2009 where I face the Pacific Ocean instead. We've had a bunch of wars, kingdoms have fallen, lands are rarely unoccupied, we have crappy reality tv shows, blogs that are mostly a meaningless waste of internet space, Facebook and MySpace are the new pestering addictions, pizza and burgers are the best creation of man, the fashion industry is bringing back the 1980s, and we're fighting like kids over oil and crying about the market crisis."

Both men were appalled by her claims and she smirked at seeing that expression on the usually cool assassin to finish, "Need I say more?"

"How do you know this? Compulsive lying will not get you far" he hissed sternly as he tried debunk her prophecies and she shook her head as she turned to face Malik. Maybe he wouldn't be more prone to 'burn the witch!'.

"The reason I look crazy to you is because I don't belong here- I mean, this isn't my home or my time" she tried to put into words as the entire thing was causing her a headache from too much sun exposure and dehydration. How could she even explain time travel? She didn't know how it worked at all! Her hands shook in her lap as she rambled on nervously, "I-I study the history of the world, all of this is extremely old school teachings to me. Malik, if you're from this era and if I am to believe this is real. . .I am very far from home."

"Then how did you get here?" the assassin demanded coldly and she grit her teeth to his intrusive manner. Really? Was that his only way to get answers? The man was more testosterone driven than he looked in the game and that was after punching interrogation victims.

"By riding the back of a sea turtle across the Mediterranean- I don't know how the hell I got here, okay?" she shot back sarcastically to see if that would shut him up for at least a minute. Altaïr was indeed a badass. . .a very annoying one.

As if sensing her exhaustion, Malik held out a cup filled with water that she'd no idea where he had gotten it from but drank it thirstily to hydrate her parched throat. Microbes and possible contaminations aside, the water was extremely cooling and every little thing she touched or saw in this place was assuring her this was real. She stared at the clay mug as her fingertips trailed over the handmade item that matched artifacts from this time frame and muffled a whimper rising in her throat.

"I-I live in the year 2009, it's December and there's no way it can be this hot in Berkeley. . ." she stammered disbelievingly, giving one last look at the dai before drinking the last drops of water. The liquid dripped down the side of her lips but she didn't care about her appearance at the moment, simply swiping her lips clean of it.

"Where is this Berekely you speak of?" Malik inquired softly as he took the mug away from her rigid hands and set it down on the stone floor.

"California, North America, you know, the Americas. . ." she explained quickly to see if there was a flaw to prove this was bogus but the two men only glanced at each other skeptically. No, they were being truthful and so must she if she wanted to keep living. She sighed under her breath as she regrettably found the continuance of her life bound to them and stated glumly, "Nobody has discovered it yet. People in Europe will sail to it in a few centuries across the ocean to colonize the land there. It is impossible for you to know of it now, nobody would believe it. I don't even have anything on me that could tell you about it or any proof of identification. . .this sucks."

Altaïr broke into her physical slump of self-pity to ask directly, "Can you draw it?"

She nodded quietly but brightened up at the prospect of giving them evidence of her honesty and answered quickly, "Of course, most people know how to draw a world map. We grow up learning about the continents-"

The assassin left the room before she could finish and Vivian sat back with a long sigh, "And you're gone."

Malik gave a sympathetic smile to the apprehensive woman and comforted by making a small joke, "Don't let him damper your mood even more. He's like that all the time, I should know."

Me too, buddy, she thought flatly towards the callous man and traced her fingertips over the tight thick belt wrapped around her waist. This thing is annoying. How the heck do assassins run or sit with this thing? It's like a manly version of the corset.

She let the fabric be when she couldn't find the buckles for it and turned to ask the kind dai curiously, "Since it's 1192, I assume you're still fighting Templars?"

Malik nodded in response and she tapped her chin thoughtfully to speak her mind freely, "I don't know why Altaïr thinks I'm one of them, I can't even hold a sword. Maybe a knife but I only use that to cut food with and even then, I manage to slice off the tips of my fingers."

Oh god, there's no sanitation or technology to store it here. . .and no technology, period!, she thought woefully and almost sobbed as everything that made life easy in the 21st century faded into nothing. This was practically a prehistoric era in itself! I should've been blasted into AC II instead.

Altaïr reentered the room with a piece of parchment and a small piece of charcoal in hand, throwing them at her feet carelessly as she shot him a glare for his mannerisms. It's not like she could fight him to escape anymore (she wasn't the amazing Spiderman, unlike him, that could scale walls) and grabbed the items into her hands. Vivian stretched the parchment over the floor and roughly began to sketch out the map of the modern world with ease as her fingers became stained with the piece of charcoal. She wasn't an artist or even held artistic ability but just about anyone could make it decent.

Twenty minutes later, the map was finished with the name of continents filling each land mass along with a dot on where her home was. She slid it over to Malik so he could see it first because he was easier to deal with and smiled confidently, "There. That little dot is where I live and I wrote the continents in English because, well, I don't know how to write in Arabic but I can tell you the names verbally!"

"It's all right, I know generic words of the language for traveling purposes" he assured gently which gained him a sheepish smile from the grateful Vivian and his eyes roamed over the map to read it. Malik had expected something akin to what he knew as the current map of the world but the one she drew was completely the opposite. Only one thing came to mind when he saw it and quickly called, "Oh my- Altaïr!"

"What? Is she trying to eat charcoal now?" he asked listlessly as he played with one of his throwing knives to pass the boredom, leaning against the doorway without interest. Malik looked back to shoot him a wry glare for his smartass comment and simply showed him the map without another word. Altaïr tensed immediately to the familiar mapping that he'd seen from the Apple of Eden and briskly walked over to demand, "This is your world map?"

Vivian scowled to his interrogation as he stood before her and bit out sarcastically, "Would you get your crotch out of my face? Sit down and talk like a normal person. . .and yes, yes, it is."

Malik laughed to the retort while the assassin didn't find it humorous in the slightest sense. However, he listened because he really didn't want the image to stick to his head as he continued speaking in the same position. He grabbed a pillow and sat cross-legged to interrogate again, "So this is your world?"

"I'm pretty sure I already answered that" she sighed tiredly to the runaround and pointed to North America. This whole 'I say, you say' game was growing irritating and she put a stop to it by stating slowly and clearly as she jabbed her index finger on the map, "Me live there, Altaïr live here. Vivian American, Altaïr Syrian. Me tired, Altaïr buffoon."

"I like her" Malik commented humorously to her sense of humor and noticed the frown forming on the other man's face. The dai assumed the assassin just didn't like her mouthing off since he was used to getting his way all the time and docile women rarely denied the cold man anything. Malik liked this new visitor to their Order and sighed when his friend's frown deepened further, "What is it now?"

"If she knows the map I'm trying to complete, I need all the information she has" he stated simply while Vivian glared as he talked like she wasn't even there. What was she? A horse to be beckoned at his every calling? She just knew culture clash was inevitable with the merciless assassin and she gaped when he informed astutely, "Meaning that I am taking her to Masyaf-"

"Wait, what?" she blurted to his bossing around and clenched her fists over her lap. For a second, Malik expected the hidden knife to activate accidentally and cut the woman's fingers but released a mental sigh when all five remained. Vivian grit her teeth and demanded shrewdly of the insensitive man, "Why would I go anywhere with you? You tried to kill me!"

"You are far too dangerous and ignorant to be left to your own devices, how else would you have listened?" he stated crisply to her sharp tongue. Women were supposed to be polite but this one practically clawed his eyes out with words.

She gave him a deadpan expression before loudening her voice with a matter-of-factly pitch in her tone, "Oh, I don't know, maybe by asking, Altaïr. Have you ever thought of simply saying 'hello, would you mind explaining while you're here? I promise I won't brandish knives at you!'? That would have been really helpful."

"You are going to Mafyaf, woman, whether you like it or not" he hissed curtly to her nonviolent solution when they met (he didn't do diplomacy) and motioned to a water basin nearby. "Clean your cuts and sleep because we are leaving at dawn. Not a minute less nor later."

"You order the sun to your whims too?" she commented dryly and fidgeted with the gauntlets strapped around her wrists. Damn things were like handcuffs. He grabbed her left hand into both of his and unlatched the hidden blade before she ended up losing all of her fingers, throwing it at her feet afterwards. A second later, he picked it up and stuffed the gauntlet into one of his many pockets which she assumed was to keep her unarmed and therefore, harmless. Is that how women were supposed to be seen? Insignificant home tenders. . .ugh, this century was going to kill her spirit.

"There are a few garbs that may fit you although they are fitted to the male physique" Malik suggested kindly to the woman and she nodded quickly to the wonderful idea.

"I'll take them, I can't walk around comfortably in this" Vivian piped hastily and pulled at the large and heavy robes for emphasis. Altaïr snorted to her claim on normal (and quite comfortable) assassin garb but she ignored him as she rambled on, "I'm more liable to draw attention like this anyway. Besides, I can always flatten my chest with a cloth to fit in."

Altaïr gave an unimpressed grunt to her self-confirmed idea and questioned skeptically to pick at her flaws, "How do you plan to disguise your face?"

"I said I would wear the clothes, not act the part" she stated bluntly and crossed her arms defiantly to point out firmly, "If you think I'm about to bulk up and scratch my vocal chords with a manly voice, you're getting a hidden blade to the crotch."

He was about to retort to her bold threat but she cut him off to finish, "Look, I'm already considering the fact that I'm stuck almost an entire millennium in the past in. . .is this supposed to be an alternate dimension? I don't even know! Besides that problem, I live by a different set of social standards in my time so if I want to wear manly clothes, I will do so and you will like it."

The assassin frowned and left the room without further word to escape her sharp tongue. Vivian shook her head to his awful manners and grumbled under her breath, "What crawled up his butt and died? He's more of a douche in real life."

Malik withheld a chuckle to her comment (though he didn't understand the last words- probably new century jargon) on the assassin's attitude and motioned to the scattered pillows around the floor. He informed the tired woman with a serene smile, "You will spend the night here. I assure it's very safe and there is food if you are hungry."

Vivian was about to deny since she'd no idea how sanitary food was in this era (bacteria, parasites, undercooking, spoilage, etc.) but her stomach betrayed her with a monstrous growl of its own. Hanging her head in shame, she took the offer without a second's thought, "I accept. Thank you, Malik."

The sun had set over the city of Jerusalem and Vivian had watched every minute until it faded into glittering endless dark sky as it finally hit home that she was stuck in either the past or an alternate dimension of the past. The game of Assassin's Creed never had any shifting hours and bathed everything in daylight so the chance of a deep hallucinating coma went out the window. She had already changed into brown robes that covered her from the neck down and tied cloth over her breasts because apparently bras didn't exist in this century! Running would be murder, unlike men who had nothing to worry about upstairs. As if that wasn't annoying enough, she had acquired Malik's hand in tightening the thing like a corset while the poor man flustered modestly over being in a room with a half-naked woman. Vivian then pointed out this was for fashion purposes (he saw her back only so she didn't see the big deal) before telling him to pull the cloth tightly behind her back before handing it over so she could wrap the next layer. All in all, it worked like a charm and now she was fixing up a mountain of maroon and gold trimmed pillows to make decent bedding.

The floor was hard as a rock, annoying enough because it was made of polished stone, and she sighed under her breath when her roommate snored like a demon. Seriously, he could make a rock concert with the loudness of his vocal chords alone. She didn't expect to get any sleep from her corner from across the room since moonlight filtered in from overhead and the chirping of crickets wasn't making it better. The large room lodging her and the assassin was the last thing she ever expected to happen that day and longed for her soft bed at home. Anything would suffice as long as it was in her home back in the future.

Her fingers trailed to her neck where oddly enough her mother's silver necklace rested and it had been the only thing transported with her. It gave her a sense of home and her fingertips etched the orb of silver that was encrusted with tiny emeralds here and there. The pendant held the tiniest outlines around itself but Vivian had never been able to open it, even if she could. Her mother had given it to her on her fifteenth birthday as every oldest daughter in her matrilineal life passed it down as an heirloom from wherever her line started. Vivian could only recall her great-grandparents from Madrid and that was it. She let the pendant drop onto her clavicle as she sighed aloud to the feeling of homesickness.

So I'm really stuck here, she thought miserably and resisted from smothering her face with a pillow. Couldn't I have gotten Mass Effect? At least that's a little closer to my century and I like aliens. This makes Back To The Future look like nothing!

Altaïr's loud snore broke her from the self-pity fest and she sent a pillow flying his way that smacking him on the back as he slept on his side towards the wall. The master assassin simply turned in his sleep, pausing in his snoring fest to her relief. . .only to resume after an incoherent mumbling.

He's like a bear- hell, a normal bear wouldn't be this loud!, she thought frantically to his incessant snoring and tears of torture threatened to cloud her vision. I pinched his nose and the man continued snoring through his mouth. Vice versa and he does the same. Maybe if I pinch his nose and shut his mouth close together-

That would kill him, logic stated simply to ward her away from such and she growled mentally. Block him from your mind and you'll do fine.

"Great, I'm practically talking to my brain" she muttered into her pillow while hoping she wouldn't developing a coping mechanism via disassociate identity disorder (soap operas overused split personalities way too much despite its actual rarity) as she lied in a fetal position. "This day just keeps getting worse-"

A loud snore broke her words off and she growled in complaint to herself, "Okay, that doesn't sound human at all! Why don't they ever show this in the game instead of the little pixilated blue screen?"

"This is inhumane, not even modern day roommates suffer this cruelty" Vivian groaned pitifully as Altaïr snored away and she stared through the green vines above in the hopes that the stars would lull her to sleep.

They wouldn't.

An hour later, Vivian would be sprawled on her back with black hair draped around the pillows while her bloodshot eyes stared at nothing overhead without bothering to blink. Meanwhile, Altaïr loudly snored his troubles away comfortably in his spot as he dreamt about the best thing of all: flying with the birds. . .except pigeons, he didn't like pigeons.

"Malik, get your stuff ready while I grab the horses" Altaïr ordered as he tuned back into boss mode to guide his two followers back to Masyaf. Roosters crowed throughout Jerusalem as sunrise soon approached but Vivian learned they did that regardless of the sun and hours before. Malik would return to the fortress for the third time (he wasn't too happy about it) and hoped the Grand Master would finally make up his mind in regards to his overall plan. The firm man jabbed an authoritarian finger at Vivian and barked quickly, "Woman, finish your food."

"Mah? Bah?" she mumbled tiredly as she stared at her food like a zombie after only getting two hours of sleep, her tongue tasting the food as bland as her eyes struggled to stay open. Apparently, Altaïr didn't like competing with the roosters before dawn and had settled into a surprisingly noiseless sleep that finally allowed her to nab a decent sleep. Unfortunately, two hours later, he kicked her awake and told her it was time to get up as he strutted away fresh as a daisy.

She dropped the piece of baked khubz she'd rolled around a piece of hard cheese and whimpered, "I can't feel my teeth."

Altaïr had already left and thus, heard none of her words as her eyes flickered to fight off sleep and took a nimble bite of her food to fill her stomach. Her posture slumped forwards as her sleep deprived state depressed her further and heard Malik's padded footsteps join Altaïr's outside. The men ended up too occupied in their pre-trip chores that they failed to see the woman fall asleep sitting down. When they returned, they found her butt up in the air while the left side of her face was coated in olive oil, tomato slices, and pieces of broken cheese on the breakfast plate lying on the floor as she snored away her exhaustion.

"The trip hasn't even begun and she's already being lazy" Altaïr said disapprovingly and resisted from kicking her right in the rear, instead pushing her to the side so she'd land on the right side of her body.

Instantly, Vivian jerked awake and declared, "I'm up, I'm- ugh, I'm covered in oil!"

"We're leaving" the master assassin informed sternly and carried on as if the disheveled woman wasn't even there. Malik, however, offered a hand to get her back on her feet as she wondered what kind of god would make her suffer like this. Seriously, should AC fans get a better treatment? Ugh, now she really wished time had blasted her into Mass Effect because she could explore and hang with aliens or ACII where she could partake in the Renaissance and bust Ezio in his manwhoring balls (because Altaïr scared her more) or even Lord of the Rings where fantasy came to life and she could stab an Orc in the eye with a toothpick.

Time travel is supposed to be awkward and fun, not painful and traumatic, she thought dryly and licked the oil slicking down her face. Well, I might as well finish my food. Dad always says to never let food go to waste and Malik's a nice host.

Ten minutes later after the shoveling of food into her mouth, Vivian found herself before three horses and raised her eyebrows in question to the white mare that ate hay while a brown horse and a gray speckled stallion were taken by the other two men. Wait, did they expect-

"Get on, we have no time to waste" Altaïr ordered hastily and pointed to the horse.

"Sorry, your highness, but I don't know how to ride a horse" she spat sarcastically and nervously ran a hand down the horse's snout as her black eyes watched her. Vivian hoped it wouldn't take a crap near her like the last one she'd seen. Apprehensively, she pointed out to Altaïr in a softer tone, "I'm a city kid, we have cars. . .metal carriages- ugh, carts that take us places. I've never even touched a horse, let alone seen one up close since yesterday."

"Well, you better learn quickly because we'll be leaving in. . .now" he informed carelessly and kicked the sides of his horse to motion it to trot forward. Quickly, she scrambled after him and yanked him by his left boot as it rested on the stirrup to get him to help her. He tried to shake her away but she managed to pull the heavy boot clean off his foot and laughed at seeing the multicolored fabric wrappings covering his foot in place of socks. Were socks even created at this time? Hmm, yes, they were. Europe used them to symbolize purity and most were used among nobility while everyone else used pieces of fabric and leather to retain warmth. Altaïr obviously chose fabric pieces.

Vivian waved the stolen boot mockingly in the air and laughed giddily, "This is priceless. If I could take this home, I'd sell it on eBay."

Malik rounded the corner as he hoisted his satchel of belongings over his shoulder which he'd place onto his horse soon for the one day ride and his eyes widened to see Altaïr chasing the woman on foot while missing a shoe. So much for making a quiet exit from the city.

"Children, behave" he stated flatly as he walked between them, halting their mad pursuit, and began to tie his belongings onto his speckled horse without a problem. His right arm kept growing stronger as it became the only dominant appendage and wondered how his sword fighting skills would improve. He paid the fighting duo no mind but ordered simply, "Vivian, give back the boot. Altaïr, apologize for whatever you did."

Both began to argue their point in unison, "But-"

He shot them a glare from behind his shoulder and Vivian threw the boot at the assassin's feet in which he hastily put it back on as he scowled to her actions. Cursed wench. She tapped the back of his head as he bent over and ordered, "Teach me the basics. Now."

"Arrghh."

"You're an eagle man, not a dog" she chided with a grin and walked over to the horse as it ate hay. Altaïr wanted to chuck her in the water trough and hold her under for a few seconds but the sooner he taught the wench, the sooner they'd leave Jerusalem behind.

"Aren't you pretty?" she cooed softly and petted the mare's mane with delicate fingers as the hairs slipped between her fingers without a single knot. Leaning into her ear that was flicking away bothersome buzzing insects, she whispered pleadingly, "Please don't crap on me."

Altaïr grumbled under his breath as he walked over to Vivian and clasped his hands together to give her a boost, ordering sharply, "Up. Now."

Vivian wasted no time in obeying because she wanted this trip over with and to keep the man from accidentally shanking her before they reached Masyaf. Shifting weight onto her left leg, she hoisted herself up but only managed to fall horizontally over the saddle like a drunk right out of those old western flicks. Her legs dangled in the air comically as Altaïr resisted from groaning in frustration and she called back, "I'm pretty sure this isn't right."

She dropped back down onto the ground, careful not to trip over her own feet and fixed her robes before attempting it again. This time, her fingers barely grabbed hold of the saddle before she fell back onto Altaïr and both hit the ground as their horses neighed mockingly to their fallen riders.

Malik sighed depressingly to himself and patted the mane of his own horse to mutter, "We're going to be a while."

The sky had cleared away its murky gray into a soothing lilac gray when Vivian finally managed to boost herself properly onto the horse with a triumphant grin and Altaïr was ready to leave both her and the city in his dust. Malik simply ordered his horse to take the path as leader since traveling as a group would bring less suspicion onto them, especially with a woman in their midst. He would play the role of a cartographer while Altaïr would be the scholar as always.

"Hurry up" Altaïr ordered sharply and she mimicked him under her breath as she held the reigns of her horse uneasily. He noticed her hesitance and grit his teeth in irritation before asking tightly, "What are you doing now, wench?"

"Shut up, Robin Hood" she snapped back and gently patted the neck of her horse.

"I shall call her Shadowfax and she shall be mine" Vivian proclaimed proudly as her newest adventure began (although reluctantly) and gently tapped the mare's sides with her feet. She just knew wearing sandals were going to be a curse when sand got trapped underneath but the horse would save miles of itchy sand. With a wild grin, she preached aloud, "We shall be a tribute to Gandalf the Grey- er, I mean, White."

Altaïr really fought the temptation of throwing her into the water trough at this point.

A/N: Thanks for all of your story alerts, the more I see the faster I try to type up the next chapters like I do with my other stories. :) Anyway, if there's any grammatical errors, I've noticed my glasses are getting a little out of focus so it's to the optometrist for me. I would wear contacts but I get lazy. Anyway, I couldn't hold back the Lord of the Rings crack since every time I saw a white horse on the game, I went 'hot damn, I'm getting Shadowfax- forget the rest, he matches with Altair'. As always I research, so the food was studied- although it did give me munchies but water keeps me satiated- and I know nothing on horses which is where Vivian's lack of knowledge as a city kid comes in with Altair's obvious knowledge over them.

Thanks to my last chapter reviewers, your feedback keeps me clacking away at the keyboard for an update:

Panda- Thanks for loving the story and I'll keep updating as feedback grows. :)

TheSpaceButler- I'm glad the humor tickles your funny bone, I'm trying to make it outrageous but absolutely believable. Thank you for reading!

Pseudo British kid- Yeah, I'm avoiding making her into a Mary Sue completely (even though time traveling qualifies but I'll be explaining that as the story flows). Ha, that cartoon show totally gave me the title for this fic but unfortunately, Altair's more of the silent type but I'm sure Malik will fit in the comic relief alongside Vivian for Adventure Time!