Feng Residence, 12:23am

Kenneth Feng let his coarse caliced thumb rub across the smooth surface of the glass as his almond eyes stared at the photograph under it. The photo frame was small, about three by four inches, bordered by a fine lacquered wood. There was a small velvet stand on the back that was surprisingly strong when it came to holding up the frame. In contrast to the classy design that the frame boasted, the photograph it protected was old, withered and a little ripped at the sides. The photo showed so many signs of age that it was a wonder it wasn't in black and white.

Staring back at Kenneth from behind the glass was the picture perfect family. A young man no older than 29 years stood with his head resting on a woman's shoulders, not much younger than him, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Save for the bits of razor stubble on his face, the skin on his face was smooth. His Asian eyes were open wide, staring with a goofy face into the camera, his expression indicating vibrant youthful energy and the love for life. The only thing that Kenneth and the young man had in common was the fact that they both had black hair. It was the only feature Kenneth had kept from his youth. He rubbed his hand through his own hair, satisfied with the knowledge that even at thirty-six years of life experience, the amount of stress he'd experience, there was not a strand of gray hair on his head to indicate it.

He then looked at the crystal blue eyes of the woman, smiling so sweetly at the camera. Her eyes had been narrowed to two little slits in her face, her mouth in a tight grin on her face as her lover nuzzled her face with his stubbled chin. Her hair hung down in golden wavy locks from her head, just barely touching her shoulders.

Standing in front of her was a six year old boy, clearly a product of both young adults. The boy had his father's black hair with a little shade of brown and almond shaped eyes with the piercing blue color of his mother's. He had his mother's button nose and her full lips.

"We were so happy together, Jacqueline," Kenneth said aloud, even to his own surprise. Things looked so perfect in the photograph. In fact, as long as Kenneth could remember, when they took the picture, they were optimistic about the future. Nothing could ever ruin their lives. He was with the woman he loved and they had brought a child into the world together – little Kiennen Feng, or Hyou Sekien as he would be called in Japanese. Kenneth never thought that the only woman he ever really loved in his life, Jacqueline Lacroix would leave him to raise their only child alone. Was this some kind of test from the Gods? Why did they deem it necessary to take her away, in a bank robbery no less? Kenneth sunk his head low, remembering the time the authorities came to his house, bearing the news of his wife's fate. She had been gunned down, working as a bank teller during an armed robbery. One bullet was all it took to take Jacqueline away from Kenneth. What a way to die – shot by a bullet, killed by some scum of the earth like she was just a rat. Kenneth had nearly collapsed in shock when the police officers told him. He remembered the hot tears stinging his face, the wind driven from his body. He remembered not having any strength to move, just sit there and let his emotions take over. And Kiennan, who was only five years old at the time, not completely understanding what was going on. All that was nine years ago. Kenneth had put it behind him for the most part, but sometimes there would be that lingering emotion of loss and regret. He hadn't bothered to see other women since his wife died, though he knew that was what she would have wanted for him.

Kenneth put the photo down, having had enough of walking down the dark side of memory lane. He picked up the cordless phone sitting in front of him at his office table atop a pile of paperwork – work that he was supposed to have done by the next morning. Pushing the thought aside, he dialed what seemed to be like a set of random numbers on the phone pad. He held the receptor to his head and waited.

Ring …

"Come on," he hissed into the phone, "somebody pick up."

Ring …

How long did it take to answer a goddamn phone?!

"Hello?"

"Uncle Ken, it's Kenny here," Kenneth said. "I'm sorry to be bothering you at this time of the night, but I've got an emergency over here."

"What did Kiennan do this time?"

"He's not home. I'm so frustrated with that kid. I told him to be home by dinner. And if not, just call. But he didn't do either. How hard is it to follow simple instructions?!"

"How old is Kiennan now? Twelve or thirteen …"

"He's actually fourteen," Kenneth replied, "going on fifteen in a few months."

"Man!" Ken said. "Age is sure catching up with me. Well, at that age, he's trying to be independent of you. You should know that. I went through the same thing with Mel."

"I don't understand children," Kenneth growled. "I was independent my whole life. I lived on the streets and ate out of garbage cans. What the hell about that kind of independence is so appealing?"

"You know how kids can go on these power trips, thinking they know everything when in fact, they know nothing at all. I'm sorry, I'm probably not making you feel any better, am I?"

"Not really."

"Don't worry about a thing, Kenny," Ken assured. "I'll send Mel after him right now. He'll have your kid home in no time."

"Thanks, Uncle Ken."

"Alright, you take care and do your homework. I know you got that big business to run."

"Okay, goodnight. Tell Aunt Eliza I said hello."

Kenny hung up the phone and reclined into his leather swivel chair. He took off his house slippers and dug his feet into the thick Persian rug, staring at the pile of paperwork in front of him. Zhane Enterprises was a successful company in the business of electronics manufacturing. They made everything from CD players, MP3 players, television sets, home and mobile phones, radios, computers … their only true rival being the likes of the Kanzuki Corporation – they didn't just make electronics, they made everything else too and shamelessly promoted their products. As the chair for Zhane Enterprises' marketing department, Kenneth vowed that he would never let them sink to their level.

He found that he could successfully concentrate on his work now, knowing that Mel Masters was out there looking for his son. Kenneth had always thought of Mel as a younger brother, as they both lived at one time under the protection of Mel's father, Ken Masters – or Kenneth's own Uncle Ken. Mel was around twenty two years old now and growing into a fine young man. Having studied the martial arts under his father for his entire life, Mel was disciplined and physically fit, though Kenneth always sensed a brashness underneath the mature exterior, one he undoubtedly inherited from his father. He knew that if anyone lay a finger on Kiennan, Mel would be on the offender like a fat kid on cake.

"Screw the paperwork," Kenneth said to himself. He had better things to do – like prepare a suitable punishment for Kiennan when he got home.

Downtown Los Angeles, 12:45am

"Fuckin' gimme a toke, you shit," a young man said, half jokingly. He reached his arm out, extending only his thumb and index finger to receive the paper end of a marijuana joint, careful not to get too close to the burning embers from the other end.

"Sorry, man," another young man said, both their forms almost indistinguishable from each other in the dark. "This shit's good. Where'd you get it?"

"Vancouver, Canada," the first replied. "They got the best pot in the world."

"You're so damn lucky, you know," the second said in envy. "I wish my dad could let me travel around the world like that. Your dad's so fuckin loaded he sends you everywhere. You can speak like, three languages …"

"Four," the first countered. "It's just circumstance, yeah? My mom was French, and my dad's Chinese, but his family got murdered or something when he was like, six, when they were living in Japan. So he spent a lot of time growing up in there, then he moved to the States for a few years. So by the time they had me, they raised me speaking four languages." He shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"Hey boys, whatcha up to?" a feminine voice called from the mouth of the alleyway.

"Shit Jess, get the fuck in here! Don't let anyone know there's people in here getting high!"

"Okay!" the girl whispered. "I swear, Kiennan, your PMS outbursts are worst than mine."

"Did you get the smokes?" the second young man asked.

"Christopher Crankurt, didn't your father ever tell you how to say please?!" Jess asked, extracting the cigarettes from the pocket of her jean jacket.

Kiennan took one final puff of the joint. When he determined that there was no pot left to burn, the stomped the embers out under his hiking boot. "It's fuckin cold," he said, pulling his toque down over his head, just above his eyes. "Gimme a smoke."

"You guys got any booze left?" Jess asked, taking a light from Chris and lighting her smoke with it.

"We got you some coolers and saved a little bit of vodka for you," Kiennan replied.

"You guys plan on having any?"

The boys shook their heads. "I'm spent," Chris said. "Anymore and I think I'm gonna throw …" he trailed off after Jess waved a Kahlua bottle in front of his face. "Shit man, I love that chocolate milk shit!"

"I stole this one," she said, giggling. "Here, let's split it. Kiennan?"

"No thanks," he said, putting his hand up, cigarette smoking from between his fingers. "I feel like puking just looking at it."

"Alright, more for us …" Jess giggled, but was promptly cut off.

"What do you kids think you're doing?!" a voice called from the mouth of the alleyway.

"Shit, the cops!" Chris said, jumping to his feet. The mix of alcohol and the headrush from getting up to fast disoriented the young man for more than a few moments as he stumbled towards the back wall, hoping to make it over.

"No, it's worse," Kiennen said, getting up slowly, eyes wide with fear. "It's Mel Masters."

"Oh!" Jess cried, slowly rising to her feet. He twirled her lock curly brown hair between her fingers as she stared shyly at Mel.

Kiennen seized her by the arm, stopping her. "Look, I know you like the football player, blond hair blue eyes type, but Mel isn't here to court you. Come the fuck on!" Pulling Jess by the arm, Kiennen ran after Chris, who seemed to be having a hard time even reaching the top of the wall, though it was within arm's length.

Trained in the martial arts, physically fit, his mind clear and free from any substances, twenty-two year old Mel Masters darted after the three intoxicated teenagers. Jess was the first to get caught, as she practically ripped herself from Kiennen's grip and into Mel's own.

"I'm so glad you came for me," she said, drooling onto his shoulder.

Mel decided to play along with her little game. "If you truly love me, Jess, you will stay here and not move, okay?" She nodded. "Good."

He then left her and ran further down into the alleyway, chasing down Kiennen and Chris, catching up with them effortlessly. Tucking a teenager under each arm, Mel carried the two boys kicking and screaming towards the car – a red two door Ferrari – with Jess trailing behind.

"Your dad is going to eat you alive, Kiennan," Mel said angrily. "And you have nobody to blame but yourself." Mel got Jess to open the door to the car and he threw the kids in. "Jess, you get shotgun."

"You can't bring me back!" Kiennan cried. "Come on Mel, you know how cruel my dad can get when he gets mad!"

"What? He's gonna ban you from your own private swimming pool in the back yard?

"YES!" Kiennen cried.

Mel shook his head. "That doesn't seem too unreasonable to me."

"But he's gonna know I've been smoking. Then he'll release the hounds on me! And if they don't kill me, he won't let me go to school cause he won't even trust me to leave the house."

"He could afford a private tutor."

"I don't want that!"

"Kiennan, I've bailed you out of trouble more times than I can count. Like that time you stole that kids bike from his house, took it back later that night and smashed it through the window of his house."

"The fucker deserved it."

"The 'fucker' would've snapped you in two with his bare hands if I didn't intervene. You've got this tendency to stir up shit with people that you can't finish. Then I gotta step in there and clean your mess up for you. Each time you swear you'll never do it again but I'm telling you now, I'm finished with all this. I don't know how many times I've saved you from thugs, the authorities, even your own damn father, but I'm not teaching you anything by bailing you out all the time."

Feng Residence, 1:12am

As soon as the doorbell rang, Kenneth was up on his feet, thumping through the three story mansion, towards the double doors of the main entrance. Through the glass insertions on the doors, Kenneth could see Mel the property, just beyond the gates. His hand rested on Kiennan's shoulder, the younger boy not looking very happy to be home. Kenneth pulled the doors open and stepped outside, running down the red brick path that led to the gates. The cold night air whipped at his night clothes, freezing his skin, but the relief of having his son home was enough to warm him.

"Thank you Mel," Kenneth said, pushing a hidden button from inside the property, causing the gates to slide apart and open. Kenneth extended an arm, holding a twenty dollar bill in his hand. "Please accept this for the gas, time and effort you spent retrieving Kiennan."

"Don't be ridiculous, Kenny," Mel said, pushing his arm away. "You're like the big brother I never had. I'd do this for you anytime." Mel glared down at Kiennen who only glared back defiantly.

"I'm so sorry for bothering you at this time of the night," Kenneth apologized. "If you ever need anything …"

Mel held a hand up for Kenneth to stop speaking. "I know, I know, and I will. Have a good night, Kenny."

He waited for Mel to get into his car and drive off, waving goodbye, before laying the real smackdown on Kiennan. A multilingual argument ensued.

"Pourquoi tu me n'ai pas telephone?!" Kenneth screamed in French. "Why didn't you call?"

"Ore no koto wo shinpai suru na!" Kiennan shot back in Japanese. "Don't worry about me!" The argument continued, Kenneth shouting in French, while Kiennan replied in Japanese. They figured anybody up this late at night to hear their argument wouldn't understand, so at least if they were heard, no rumors could be spread. Kenneth and Kiennan had the art of fighting but keeping their personal issues private down to an art.

"And is that SMOKE I smell off you?! Did you smoke?!"

"No, you know I don't smoke."

"Don't lie to me son, I know the smell of a cigarette any day. Empty out your pockets."

"But …"

"Now!!" Kenneth demanded. Kiennan reached into his pockets and turned them inside out. Bits of paper fell out, some keys and loose change. And then, what Kenneth was looking for fell to the ground as well. A full pack of cigarettes lay at Kiennan's feet. "You don't smoke, huh?"

"Oh, it's not like you've never touched a cigarette in your life! You can't hold that against me."

"I have … NEVER touched a cigarette in my life!" Kenneth snapped, feeling a sharp stab of guilt in his conscience. He reached down and picked up Kiennan's pack of smokes and pocketed them. "I am banning you from your private pool in the back yard," Kenneth said as he turned and walked back towards the house. Kiennan just rolled his eyes and nodded his head in response. "And I'm pulling you out of school by next month. I'll be getting you a private tutor instead."

"Oh no," Kiennan said sarcastically. He mumbled under his breath, "See Mel? I called it."

"I specifically told you to call if you weren't coming back for dinner!" Kenneth screamed. "Was that too much to ask?"

"Stop fuckin freakin out, Dad," Kiennan shouted back. "I just forgot, okay?"

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?!"

"Stop worrying, it's a pain in the ass."

Kenneth couldn't believe what he was hearing. His entire life, he didn't have anyone to care about where he was or what he was doing, and nobody to care if he got hurt – perhaps Uncle Ken was the only exception. And now that he'd been able to provide that for his own son, he gets bit in the ass with it.

"You spoiled, ungrateful little brat! When I was your age …"

"I've heard it all before, Dad. I know you ate out of garbage cans, lived under bridges, stole to get food, slept in cardboard boxes, blah blah fucking blah … Jess's parents do a much better job of exaggerating than you do. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."