A fine day in may, two men come up to the door of a mansion isolated atop a hill in San Francisco. One of them was a dapper British Gentleman, wearing a top hat and was dressed in his work clothes, a vest, dress shirt and dress pants. Contrasting was his companion, an oriental fellow wearing a wilderness vest and had a patched wound on his chest. His fox-like eyes were clear to see despite his glasses. The Asian knocked on the door, it was covered in ornate carvings and was at least twice the height of an average adult.
“Alexander, is it wise for me to come here? I barely know the man,” the gentleman said quietly. Alex turned his head and kept smiling, which slightly unnerved his friend.
“Nah, it’s fine, it’s fine Richie! He’ll be happy to have some more company! In fact, he might even fund the university!” he said enthusiastically.
“For the last time, it’s Richard Worcester-Canterbury! Honestly, that informal name you keep giving me is unbecoming,” Worcester replied, Alex just laughs at his reaction.
Both were professors at the University of Berkeley, a fair amount of way from San Francisco. They were here for several reasons: Alexander was hired by the owner of this mansion to work part-time as a self defense instructor for his daughter. Worcester, upon Alexander’s insistence, came along to talk with the owner into donating some money to the research departments.
The large double-doors swung opened with an audible slam, surprising the two men. A lone maid stood with a stern look. A distinct, exotic aura exuded from her presence; as well as an intimidating air surrounding her. She looked at Worcester for a bit, who was barely able to keep his composure, then she set her sights on Alexander.
“Hey there Henny!” the bespectacled man waved to her.
“Alexander Qiao, I do not tolerate tardiness from one’s duties. And who is this man?” the maid quipped, or possibly growled. Alexander look flustered and raised his hands in front of him.
“Oh! Well this is my colleague, um, Professor Worcester-Canterbury, he’s the one I said would be meeting with Mr. Fisk,” he said nervously.
“Very well, but you must come to the training boutique Alexander, Miss Zoe is waiting for her lessons from the both of us.”
“Yes! I’ll be doing that. Worcester, the lovely Henrietta will escort you to Mr. Fisk’s dining area! I’m sure you’ll work out the negotiation just fine,” Alexander said grinning, he ran inside and immediately jumped to the stairs, leaving Worcester alone with the maid. The maid was stoic, as though she was used to Alexander’s behavior, she glanced at Worcester and proceeded to turn back.
“This way, please,” she said. Worcester could do nothing but follow.
A while longer and they reached the dining area, just in front of a large armchair. Red, a classic color choice for the rich and wealthy. Surrounded in the room were various trophies, not of hunting but actual metal trophies.
“Master Fisk, Professor Worcester-Canterbury is present.”
Henrietta moved out of the way, motioning Worcester to the second chair next to Mr. Fisk’s. Worcester obliged and sat down, he finally got a look at the man, and was mildly surprised. A black man sat comfortably in his chair, dressed in a blue silk robe. He was shorter than most people, very small in fact. He was, essentially, a dwarf. He looks in Worcester’s direction, causing Worcester to introduce himself.
“Solomon Fisk,” he responded, “and you are Richard Worcester am I right?”
“Canterbury…” he whispered.
“Ahem, well then, you talked about the notion of donating to your research departments. let’s talk about that,” Fisk said gruffly, Worcester nodded and began talking.
The conversation would go on a bit more smoothly a few more hours in. Though at certain points, Fisk would find it in himself to try deadpan banter with Worcester, using jokes like suggesting that Worcester’s ancestors possibly owned his; Worcester was justifiable awkward. An hour would pass before Alexander was finished with his session with Zoe and met up with both of them at the dining table, Henrietta and Zoe following in his stead.
During dinner, things were going well; Food was being eaten in a cordially manner and a hefty donation to the university from the rich man was likely. Zoe wasn’t quite interested with the guest who came with Mr. Qiao, seeing as she immediately went to her room after excusing herself from her empty plate. Mr. Fisk stared at her seat for a small moment before starting up a conversation with the girl’s trainer. Suddenly though, loud engine noises could be heard outside, then a crash was heard in the back garden. Worcester, Alex, Fisk, and Henrietta rushed outside to view the wreckage.
A UFO was buried half into the earth, smoking. Well, it was a little like a UFO, but more of the smoking wreckage of a hovercraft. A few tense moments went by before they hear sound of steam hissing from the center of the contraption. The glass dome slowly raised up and a figure came out. An armored man wearing what seems to be a space helmet. Alexander and Henrietta immediately went into battle position while the other two were just staring at the figure before them. He took off his helmet and began talking.
“¡Oh! Ustedes, mi nave ha tomado algo de daño por parte de algunos pajarillos mierda obstruyendo la entrada, lo de su tierra aquí,” the man exclaimed in some sort of alien language. Wait, no that’s Spanish. Most everyone just stared at him. Henrietta herself was Brazilian, and wasn’t verse in the Spanish language.
Alex just smiled, his earrings shone when the man spoke his undecipherable words. His face looked mischievous.
“Oh yeah, I know exactly what he’s saying! He’s saying something along the lines of ‘I want to touch your daughter in many naughty ways.’” he gleefully said with an amused grin.
At that instant Henrietta pointed her shotgun at the head of the intruder, who proceeded to flip out and continue to speak words of mercy as he sweat.
“Alex, please state what he’s actually saying, or at least put your earrings at range, I wouldn’t want to dock your pay.”
“Ah! Fine, be a killjoy.” Alex tapped his left earring three times and it a small light flashed for an instant. “He said his ship was damaged by parrots attacking him and getting sucked his intake. He says sorry about the lawn.”
“Oh!” the man perked up, “I can understand what you’re saying! Could you stop trying to kill me please?!” Henrietta lowered her gun, and then hit the back of Alex’s head with the back of it, to which he responded with laughter.
“Parrots? What the hell are you talking about.” Fisk said quizzically. Joaquin stares for just a second before looking up and pointing at the power lines. There were at least 6 parrots staring at them. At that second, Zoe came out of the house, curious of the commotion. Like a spark of ignition, the parrots locked their sites on Zoe and swooped down, only to be blocked by Henrietta and a long gun barrel. A shot sounded and the birds scattered. Henrietta tossed her shotgun to Worcester, who looked at her incredulously.
“Do you expect me to try and shot at them?! I can’t use this sort of gun!” Worcester yelled. Meanwhile, Joaquin was staring down the barrel of the new gun in Henrietta’s hand, filled with birdshot. As he pleaded for mercy, Alex tried to jump and physically punch the birds for some reason while Fisk went to Zoe to check her condition. Henrietta took aim at the flock of parrots and fired several shots, killing them all. Everyone stared in silence until Worcester looked down at his own shotgun.
“What the hell did I even need this for then?!”