-Amos Kane-

It started to snow, first fall of it for winter. I inhaled the cold air as I watched a couple hurry along into a building under their customary black umbrella. I shot them a puzzled look, but I know already. I know why New York dislikes the precipitation; hiding from the weather like it's the source of all their problems in life. They don't appreciate being sick.

My father has the same problem. He's wrapped up in his work under the Chief Lector that Julius and I rarely see him even as a squadron under him. But he's proud of it, he relishes in all of the stress it gives him. But brushes family and life in general away, telling it all he doesn't have time for it.

Don't have time to walk in the snow? Please, during the time it takes you to wait for your coffee machine you could have at least spent three minutes outside. Oh, but the world doesn't stop spinning simply because you desire space from your occupation. You were handed this by a higher power, you better step it up a notch and just lose the ability to sleep altogether.

I brought my eyes to the sidewalk as a man in a heavy coat shot me a dirty look, carrying his umbrella just high enough to rest above his head. I didn't want to question what it was over; it could be a variety of things anyways. I just kept strolling along, heading back to the mansion as the busy bees of New York were rushing out the doors of their homes to their prisons.

"Hey you," a voice called out amongst the mass of sounds.

I ignored it, usually people don't talk to someone they don't know. Let alone an African-American walking around New York. But I'll spare you the conversation on their high profiling, because the world doesn't stop to anyone.

So I stopped as I took in a male grinning towards me. "I'm talking to you, buddy," he announced pompously.

Oh great, must be a salesman. "I only had enough cash for the coffee, sorry," I lied through my teeth, deciding this would be something to pick my pace up for.

"Don't worry about that, I have something for you," he continued, digging through his satchel.

I soon realized that he too didn't have a metal loop of black cloth hovering above his head. In that note, I hesitated to stop and see what he was about. He stopped, amusement playing on his lips as he straightened, still gripping something in his bag. "I see you walking by here every morning. You take on those glares like a pro, kiddo."

My eyes hardened, taking in that it happens to be another of the same skin color. "It's something you adjust to; you must be new here-"

"I'd like to give you something, just because I like your attitude," He interrupted swiftly.

I paused, giving the man a quick look over. He was wearing a nicely pressed tan suit, black hair resting on his shoulders. "Uh, how about you just keep it?" I suggested swiftly. "You seem like a nice man, Sir, but you probably need it more than I. So-" I took a step as he blocked my next.

"It's a gift, you can't refuse one. That ruins it all," the man urged, a small smile got me to sigh.

"Look, no one in the right mind set hands gifts out just because they run into someone who has the same skin-" I started swiftly, releasing it all before him as two highly dressed women glared at me and huffed off.

"It's not like that at all," the man continued, pulling whatever was in his bag out finally. "You look like you need something to distract yourself. Books are a great way of doing so."

Yeah, I know, I've been trying to shove that piece of info down my own brother's throat for years. But being respectful towards the man, I stayed put, a little interested as to the tan tissue paper covering something rectangular in his right hand. "I hope this helps," He handed it to me, placing it in my left hand.

"Uh, hold on, what is it?" I asked, barely given a chance to grip the tissue paper before it could fall.

"It's a book I wrote, not very popular mind you, but maybe it can enlighten you from your funk you have going on." The gentleman informed quickly, shooting me a smile.

"So, you're a writer, not a salesman?" I asked amongst the confusion.

"Yes Sir, just not recognized yet," he continued on. "Anyways, do us both a favor and read it for me. Maybe when we cross paths again you can tell me what you think?"

"You're making a big assumption that I'll actually have time to read it," I started.

He smirked in reply, "You walk down to this café every morning to order the same coffee, the most expensive one just so you can help the young lady in her struggles. I think you have time to read a book."

And with that he walked off, leaving me confused as I blinked a few times at the mysterious book with its cover still hidden from me. "Hold on, I didn't get your…" I started as I turned, finding he disappeared long before I spoke up, "name."

I was welcomed back by my brother rubbing his eyes as he kept a death grip on his mug of coffee, watching the news on the television in the Great Room in his attempt to wake up for the day. "Morning," I greeted happily, tossing out my more grumpy attitude from earlier.

His tired brown eyes took me in before responding, "Morning, early bird. I see you went for another visit to the café."

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, deciding to sit on the couch next to him.

"Perhaps because you can make coffee here instead of walking twenty blocks back and forth?" Julius offered with a slightly irritated tone.

I rolled my eyes, "I already told you, her family's going through a tough time. They have to literally move from their house because off all the damage caused to it from robberies. And the cops still refuse to recognize that there's a group of kids throwing rocks at the neighborhood's windows-"

"I just don't understand why you feel the need to be involved in New York's lives, Amos." Julius continued, taking a sip of black coffee. "They're going to forget about you, so why bother?"

"It's the difference between knowing and caring, Julius." I took a sip of espresso in hopes to calm myself before the urge to slap him actually reaches my arm's nerves. "Why are you up anyways?" I asked, taking a glance at the clock to see it read ten to six.

"We're getting called in, urgent." He downed the rest of his coffee. "So I'll meet you on the roof in ten."

I watched him get up from the couch, leaving me in the Great Room with just my coffee. "Okay, the one week we get promised off and we're called in." I grumbled to the thought.

We met up with Desjardins in the airport, which slowed our paces a little as we decided to talk before we have to face my father for whatever reason he decided to call us down. "Do you know maybe? I mean, you're number three-" Julius started asking.

Michel huffed it off immediately. "I only know as much as the two of you know. Or did you forget that part?"

"In other words, Julius, shut up," I teased, earning a glare from my brother.

It appears that today just isn't his day either, and he's not about to pretend that it's normal. Then again, nothing is normal. But I've decided the best way to deal with it is just to relax, try not to be too serious. Though working under my father, you really do need to be serious.

At the closet, we kept silent, making sure no one was watching us slip in, closing the door behind us. Julius led the way, Michel and I following close behind. It seemed like a normal day for the First Nome, busy with trainees and teachers wrapping up their day. I rather miss being part of it; it was at least something stable to go by.

You are probably wondering why my brother is our leader and not Michel. I know, it is weird seeing a hundred-fifty year old man take orders from a seventeen year old. Thing is, Desjardins and our father are on awful terms. So he has been content with the fact, I guess.

You see, the great Jabari Kane, (and yes, he is actually Egyptian), believes that the great God, Horus, has been keeping a very protective eye over our family ever since Narmer. To supposedly receive his full blessing, though, you must be a combat magician. I won't go into the whole 'Horus spoke these words specifically to our ancestor' thing, I'm pretty sure the entire First Nome has heard ten different versions alone.

Anyways, Michel isn't of royal blood. In fact, he is related to the great Champollion, who translated the Rosetta Stone. Of course, Michel is also proud of his heritage, and despises 'the stuck up royals' as he calls us. Well, I don't know if that's how he feels towards Julius and I, but I know for a fact that he would adore cutting down my father's ego one day.

Also, I should add the important detail that when our squadron was being made, Julius was the only one my father wanted in it. Iskandar agreed that Julius qualified to join a squadron being sixteen at the time, but there was just no conceivable way my brother was actually going to get anything done alone. So, he tossed Michel and I in. Michel simply because he is the third most powerful magician, and probably to get Jabari and Michel away from each other.

There's been quite a debate between the five of us on the count of me being involved though. Big surprise? No, my father is involved. See, I still have a year left before I can 'legally' be in a squadron. I guess that is actually one thing Michel and my father can agree on. Nevertheless, Iskandar and Julius have supported keeping me in; pointing out the little things I have done in our assignments. Plus, it's the Chief Lector that wants me in the group; you really can't offend his choices.

Now the topic of squadrons, I realize not many people understand what it even means or even heard of one no matter how many years they spend living in the First Nome. It's actually a special kind of work; you pretty much need inside support to be in one.

Squadrons are the ones the Chief Lector turns to for recon, banishing Gods, or even raid a rebel base; little more weight off his shoulders. The size of a squad varies; it generally depends on the magicians in each group. There are a few that are solos; usually sent out for recon assignments. The biggest I've heard of so far is ten, and those groups are usually sent to fend off any attacks rebel magicians attempt.

The 'Kane Squadron', as my father calls it, qualifies for small assignments that solos probably can't succeed at. In other words, we are pretty much working every day. We return to report from one to be handed the next. Though I am sure the fact that our father organizes which squadron gets what assignment has something to do with it.

Julius hesitated to knock on the door to the right of the Hall of Ages. "Come in," the familiar voice responded gruffly.

The room isn't too special, it's just a two part section dedicated to the second most powerful magician of the Per Ankh. The first part is like his office, which happens to have a desk containing towers of new files and cabinets full of reports. The room connected to it is his bedroom, which is another reason why we don't see him outside of work.

He had been organizing the new files into about thirty new piles, some stacks being much taller than the others are. "Oh good, I was starting to wonder if I need to hand it to someone else," he muttered as he tossed a manila folder onto one of the three taller towers.

"Perhaps you should then, seeing as you stated yourself that we were getting the week off," Michel snarled.

The great Jabari Kane, as everyone else knows him by, has the reputation of being an intimidating combat magician. Julius and I have heard a few stories, none of them really being anything I can consider being proud of. However, he is three hundred years old; I guess assassinating groups of rebels would mean more back then. Honestly, it doesn't help me like him any more than I do now.

He rolled his dark brown eyes, brushing off Desjardins complaint. "It requires a group that understands how the politics of the Per Ankh operate. Better than most, even."

"Uh, why is that?" Julius asked, crossing his arms as his interest stuck on our father.

He sighed, deciding to stretch his legs out as he stood up. The top of his short black hair is visible above the tallest tower of paperwork as he circled the desk, leaning against the front of it to see us better. He is wearing the usual flashy yellow cloak hanging on his broad shoulders, covering the back of his white linen clothing.

He regarded me with a huff, which I just quickly ignored; I had been getting it all morning as it was. "I've received top notch information that we may have a planned assassination in the works."

"Hmm," Michel decided to humor him with an irritated response.

Jabari glared at him quickly. "You don't need to be involved if you prefer, Desjardins. It's not like I want you in it anyways. You can take Amos with you too-"

"Hey," Julius snapped quickly, halting the burst of a very old fight. "What do you mean 'top notch'?"

Our father faced his oldest of kin. "My best recon magician found out about it, even provided solid evidence to it in his report," He explained. "Unfortunately, our Chief Lector refuses to believe it."

"Oh no, the Chief Lector told you it wasn't top notch? What will you ever do with yourself-" Michel started to rant, letting his disdain pour into each word.

"Can we please listen to the details?" I calmly interrupted, which Michel cleared his throat with a nod of respect.

"The two of you don't need to concern yourselves," my father waved off. "I only want Julius on this-"

"Oh, so you can be hassled by the thought that your son isn't you?" Michel dissed quickly. "Or better yet, you finally recognize Amos?"

Ugh, maybe I should have hung around a park for the rest of the day. Maybe even read the book the odd stranger handed me earlier. I could tell no one was going to try to even pretend today was a great day to be alive. Now my attempts are dashed, and I really wanted to tell them they won and walk out.

I caught a defeated sigh from my brother, muttering something under his breath that the older magicians' bickering covered from me. "It would be easier for one magician to sneak around rather than three, Desjardins," my father growled.

"Then find yourself another squad!"

They looked ready to duke it out, both men staring the other down to find the other won't relent. "You know what?" I finally spoke up, my own temper shining through. "I'm okay with not being involved in this one. But I'm not okay with spending my day off watching the two of you try to tear the other's head off. So, I'll dismiss myself, have fun." I left quickly before anyone could reply.

I took a deep breath to relax before I could find myself snapping at someone. The door opened to find Julius closing it quietly behind him. "Looks like everyone's in a foul mood," he felt the need to announce as he faced me.

"Sorry, I usually can handle the disgusted looks-"

Julius rolled his eyes, "The point is you shouldn't have to put up with it, Amos."

I crossed my arms as he leaned against the door. "Anyways, I'm thinking we'll pass on this assignment. We were guaranteed a break, the first one since we've started a year ago."

"You should take it, he's eager for you to-" I urged.

"So I can get captured on the first fight I find myself in? Besides, being squadron leader means I don't ditch any part of my team." He gave me a small smile as I shook my head. "And I want a break from all of this too, getting royally sick of it."

"What are you revolted by?" I uncrossed my arms as I took in the hint of sadness shining in his eyes. "You should be taking every advantage he throws at you, Julius."

"I'm tired of playing this reputation for his approval." His eyes hardened, distress allowing itself to emerge on his expression. "I'm starting to believe that I don't want to be known for any of this."

"Uh, okay?" I stood stumped, and yes shocked too because I didn't think Julius would ever feel that way.

He sighed, posture slouched a little before he finally stood straight, stopping his leaning on the door. "I suppose I should go back and tell them the news, hu?"

"Or we could just ditch and make them figure it out themselves," I offered, not really wanting to know what Michel and Jabari were doing now to kill each other.

"Come on Amos, you know our father, he'll hand us a lecture on it once he's done making a mess of his office." Julius's right hand hesitated at the door.

We both flinched to what sounded like glass being shattered beyond the door. "On the other hand, I think my own life is at risk if I bother taking a step in." Julius quickly released the doorknob.

"That's the spirit, let's run home now before one of them catch up." Julius laughed as I gestured him to come along.

Our mother, Nadia Kane, welcomed us back on the veranda. "I think that's the quickest briefing the two of you have been given," she smiled brightly, green eyes probably being the happiest thing I've seen all day.

"Hmm, we ditched," Julius quickly informed her, which she shot me a puzzled look.

"They were rearing to tear into each other's throat today," I summed up, earning an understanding nod from our mother.

"Don't tell your father I said this, but that is perhaps the wisest thing for the two of you to do," she supported quickly. "Kyra just stormed back into her room, something about plans being dashed by your work?"

"Uh, yeah, we said we would go watch some Shakespeare play she's been wanting to see. Some high school project in Prospect Park," Julius confirmed.

"Oh," she nodded of her approval, "good, it's been awhile since the three of you have done something."

"It's been awhile since we've been home," Julius added with a smile.

"Yes, well, be assured your father will be hearing my end on this," she added harshly, eyes reading a possible fight. "Anyways, go make Kyra's day, she's rather disappointed at the moment."

And we made the dangerous venture towards our cousin's room. Kyra isn't a Kane; she is in fact a Teal. The Teal family pretty much headed the Forty-Sixth Nome in Seattle, our mother being of said family. That Nome has pretty much been there since the Corp of Discovery headed west. Our grandfather built it and headed it.

Kyra's family lived in Seattle until our uncle and aunt died in a car accident. In the mess created by the tragedy, Iskandar decided that five-year-old Kyra should be amongst closer family members. Nine years of her living with us, and I swear she is more of a sister than a cousin. Maybe it's the fact that I've caught myself sneaking around with her rather than my brother. But that's again a subject on my father.

In my father's eyes, women should be more involved in healing or sympathetic magic, not combat. When she turned ten, our grandfather handed her his bow, pretty much deciding that his son-in-law can stew on it. She became obsessed and perfected archery, keeping her staff along in case anything happens.

She has our mother's emerald eyes, but her mother's tan complexion and brown wavy hair. Soft hands, which is weird for a practiced archer but she uses a lot of lotion. And insists to wear the light blue cloak our mother made for her a few years back.

She just turned fourteen a month ago, only having our mother to celebrate it with her. As you can probably guess, she was thoroughly upset with us. It's not like we like working, we would have preferred harassing our cousin over being a year older than put up with a false report and fight our way out of a hostage situation. Therefore, when we came home last night, she insisted we go with her to this play to make up for it.

I knocked on the door this time, Julius keeping away in fear. I smirked to the thought, I can handle Kyra, but Julius has to deal with our father. "Yes Aunt Nadia?" Kyra's tone sounded distressed through the door.

"Why are you locking yourself in the room?" I asked promptly.

The door burst open, her green eyes angrily set on me. "Amos Kane, you are beyond evil, you know that? You promise to go, and then get up to go work? Is that all you two are concerned over anymore? Appeasing your father?"

I rolled my eyes out of irritation now, "I already explained this Kyra-"

Her pulling me against the wall, eyes doing their best to stare me down, interrupted me. It's kind of hard for her to do, seeing as I'm still two inches taller than her, but that has never brought her down. The only thing that scares me is her aim with that bow. "Why did you go?" She demanded.

I gripped her right hand and managed to pry her fingers away from the collar of my shirt. "The word 'urgent' was used," I excused.

"Oh, so that's all he needs to do to summon you away?" She took a step back, proceeding to glare at Julius in the same manner. "What are you doing here then? Go-"

"We didn't take the assignment, Kyra," Julius continued, keeping his posture straight to show that he is even taller than she is, beating her by six inches. "So, when is this play?"

She sighed, releasing her anger as she faced me again, adjusting the collar of my shirt. "Three more hours."

"Good, that gives us some time to relax from our close fight," I announced, quickly walking down the hall to my room.

I only spotted Kyra glaring at Julius again as he gave her a sheepish grin as I closed the door behind me. Honestly, I didn't want to be caught dead walking around New York in 'magician' clothing. I prefer the suit; it also helps try to ease the glares from the locals.

And, well, I was kind of curious about the book. I pulled it out of my Duat safe to find it still wrapped in the tissue paper, and still surprisingly warm. I set it down on the desk, peering at the paper curiously. It didn't look it was set on fire or anything, so why is the book warm after being left in the Duat for four hours?

After a minute of staring at it, I decided to peel the tissue paper off, finding a blue light illuminating the book. My eyes narrowed as I pulled my hands back. As a bookworm, I'm pretty certain that books don't give off light on a regular basis.

Blue light, something magical has been applied to this. That stranger wasn't just some regular like he played himself as. I told myself to cover it, hide it in the Duat again until I can talk with Desjardins about it.

My interest got the best of me, taking a pen to the book's tissue paper in an attempt to read the title. There wasn't one, it apparently was a leather bound book, and it looked fairly old too. I hesitated to move the pen towards the book, opening it to the first page.

In dark blue lettering, the words on the first page bore into my vision as I took it in. "To my favorite Chief Lector, who finds himself a man full of regrets. I gift you a solution, enjoy."

As I spoke the words aloud, I wondered how the man could mistake me to be the Chief Lector. Really, there's a very big age difference. Even more, 'full of regrets'? Shoot, I've found myself regretting even getting up this morning. But I've never heard of anyone giving gifts because of someone's irritating father.

I closed the book, rather confused now. I placed the pen down and immediately went to wrapping it in the tissue paper again. However, as I started to do this, the book gained temperature, suddenly setting the tissue paper on fire. I stood up in alarm; eyes narrow as the light from the book took over the room.

I had a random idea suddenly come up, so I will be continuing on from the crossover An Odd Introduction. Again mainly focused on the Kane Chronicles, I may switch the category later once I reach some of their meetings.

I'm seriously considering editing An Odd Introduction. Firstly, I recognize I didn't have many parts for the Greeks and Romans, it was hung up on Egyptians. Secondly, I kind of rushed to post it up.

This will be taking place roughly a week after the events in An Odd Introduction. Starting with characters before the Kane Chronicles.

Tell me what you think? I realize this chapter was long, but I figured I'd give a jest on what young Amos was used to. Thank you for reading!