"We'll have them killed." A thick cloud of smoke billowed from the mans mouth as he spoke.

The other man, who had previously stood with his head bowed, looked up sharply.

“Ex...Excuse me?”

The first man took a long drag of his cigar, causing the end to glow a deep red in the remnants of the smoke cloud, before continuing.

“We have invested much money into their research. We cannot allow it to be lost. We will have them killed.” He grabbed his phone and stood from his desk.

“Couldn't we...” An edge of desperation in his voice, “Mister Aristov, sir, I don'-”

He was silenced by Aristov's raised hand.

Aristov raised the phone to his ear. Two faint rings could be heard before someone picked up.

“Boris?” A pause. “Is Artyom. I have job for you.”

As the conversation continued, Aristov turned his back to the other man and looked out his office window at the city.

“Yes, yes.” A deep chuckle. “Alright, I must go. You will call my secretary for the details, yes? Good, good.” Aristov turned for a moment and looked at the other man, rolling his eyes while mimicking a yapping mouth with the hand which held his cigar. He got an awkward smile in return.

“I must go, Boris. I have man waiting. Farewell.” He hung up and turned back towards the other man.

“Now, Randalph,” An abnormally large grin spreading across his face, “I hear your own research has been struggling for funding, yes?”

The other man gulped, pale face stricken with guilt. He shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yes, Mister Aristov,” He stopped to think for a moment, a grin of his own forming, “And I believe it will provide ample opportunity for profit.”

**

“Do you really think destroying what we have will be enough, Ming?”

The man stopped pacing for a moment to look at his wife, eyes lingering of her beautiful red hair.

“Rose, I don't know if it will,” He continued pacing, “I just know we have to try. We can't let them use the research for... for that!” He ended with a shout.

The woman, her green eyes glossy and close to tears, tried again.

“Maybe it wont be so bad? Maybe we can convince them to-”

“No!” Ming shouted at his wife.

The both stood staring at one another in silence after his shout. A tear rolled down Rose's cheek and Ming's face softened.

“Look, I've put too much effort into this,” The man was back to pacing through the kitchen.

“I've poured my whole life into this. I cannot allow them steal it from me. From us. We will have to destroy the research and go into hiding. We can start over from scra-” He stopped short, cocking his head.

“Did you hear that?”

Rose wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “What?”

Ming turned and began walking towards the front of the house, stopping abruptly at the archway which opened into the front room.

“...Ming?” Rose asked after a moment.

Her eyes widened as her husband slowly fell to the ground, revealing a bald man. She opened her mouth to scream, but never got the chance as a hand slammed around her mouth and a knife into her left armpit.

Not much later, their young son stumbled upon the still warm corpses which were once his parents. He had just returned home from school and was expecting the Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich his mother had promised would be waiting for him, but now it would never be there.

The boy managed dial 911 before he broke down in tears. Soon, sirens joined with the cries of the child.

**

“The kid's two-for-two.” A large man said as he stuffed his face with the last bite of a donut.

“Huh?” A much thinner man inquired, turning from the coffee machine and stirring his small Styrofoam cup.

“The kid,” He gestured to the child sitting next to an old Chinese man on the other side of the glass, “His real parents were killed by some maniac back in 2019. Now his adoptive parents are murdered. He's two-for-two.” The man chuckled at his own comment.

The thinner man sneered at his colleagues bad taste and then turned to head into the office.

“Are you sure you don't want a coffee, Mister Lin?” He asked once again as he sat down opposite of them.

Mister Lin shook his head, but didn't open his mouth to respond.

“Alright, then.” He cleared his throat and shuffled the papers on the desk in front of him.

“It seems everything is in order. Just a few more signatures and young Brian here,” He smiled at the child as he looked upon hearing his name, “will be free to go home with you.”

When Mr. Lin did not respond, he continued.

“Now then,” Taking on an air of seriousness, “I need you to decide if you absolutely want to...” He paused for a second, glancing at Brian.

“If you really want to, er, take responsibility of...” Gesturing at Brian, who was once again ignoring the two adults but giving all the attention in the world to his swinging feet.

“No one would blame you. Not your blood after all.” He concluded in a whisper.

Mr. Lin's frowned at the question and finally opened his mouth.

“I am sure, Mister O'Donald,” His thick accent made the name sound odd.

The man looked uncomfortable for a moment, but regained his composure almost instantly.

“Alrighty then, please sign here,” Spinning one of the papers so it faced Mr. Lin. He offered a pen with a smile.

Mr. Lin took the pen and signed his name in Chinese characters. Mr. O'Donald looked as if he would object for a moment, but shrugged instead. He took the paper, shuffled the papers once again, and then stapled them all together.

“We're done, then.”

He rummaged in his desk for a moment and took out a cheap sucker. He rapped it on the desk to get Brian's attention and then handed it to you child.

“Are you ready to head home with your Uncle Jie, Brian?” He asked with a smile.

Brian just gave the man a sad stare for a moment before lowering his eyes back to his feet without an answer. He frowned and stood, leading the old man and young boy out of his office and towards the elevators.

“Now, if any issues come up,” He handed the older man a business card, “Just call me at that number. Or text me. Both work.”

Mr. Lin gave a single bob of his head and left the office with Brian.

**

“Mom!” And then a few moments after, “Dad!”

Jie awoke to hear the screams of his new charge. Groaning, he got up as quick as he could and half-ran towards Brian's room.

“Uncle Jie!” Brian screamed as Jie made it to the bedroom.

“What's wrong?” Jie asked as he approached the bed.

Brian just sat quietly wiping the tears with his long-sleeved pajamas.

Jie let out a long sigh and went to the corner of the room. He then dragged an old rocking chair to the side of Brian's bed and sat down.

“I saw them again.” Brian whispered after they had sat in silence for a few minutes.

Jie, still unfamiliar with his Nephew, gave a awkward pat to Brian's shoulder.

In response to his Uncle's touch, Brian began to quietly sob.

In a panic, Jie scrambled to figure out a way to get him to stop. After a few moments he had one.

“How would like hear story I tell your father when was your age?” In his thick accent.

The sobbing stopped and an eager face looked up at Jie. Clearing his throat, he began.

“The setting is Song Dynasty, during time of great strife for China. Guo Yang was young man raised on the plains of Mongol-”

“I don't like it.”

Jie arched an eyebrow at the young boy.

“I don't know what most of those words mean.” He explained.

“Hmm,” Jie mused. It took more than a handful of minutes, in which Brian waited patiently for his promised story.

Eventually, Jie got an idea and slammed his closed fist into his palm, causing Brian to jump.

“What?”

“An idea. Would you like hear story of greatest Kung Fu master of all time?”

Brian nodded, but asked, “What's a Kung Fu Master?”

“Eh, is someone that fights.”

“Like a knight?” Brian asked, excited.

“Well...” Jie thought for a moment, “Well, maybe. They both believe in code of chivalry, honor. So yes, a Kung Fu master is like knight.”

The boy clapped.

“But we start in the beginning, before he became Kung Fu master. Or even knew what Kung Fu is. Alright?” Jie asked.

“Yes!”

“Alright then,” Jie sat straight, cleared his throat, and began the tale.

“There was once young boy,” He smiled at Brian, who looked like the definition of eagerness. “Just about your age...”

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