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Tia Martia's Restaurant
West End, Freedom City, New Jersey

Friday November 13th, 2015

6:00 PM


The benefit of privatized High School experience meant the teachers did not have to abide by standardized testing curriculum that came with being state funded.  The downside?  When Jesse Perry was your Creative Writing teacher he expected only the best out of his students.  Having been assigned together as a writing group for professor Perry's finals next month, four students had found their way to Tia Martia's to begin a brainstorming session of how exactly they were going to wow their teacher.


Tia Martia's streak of being one of the highest rated restaurants in the city continued unchallenged.  The family style servings a popular choice among the teenage crowd.  And it was easy to appreciate the Spanish and Italian blend of food not being coupled with lavish decorations trying to sell an "authentic" Spanish or Italian experience.  Instead the diner had a modest appearance.


Giving off a feeling of being inside someone's dining room.

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Robin's agreement had been quick and easy about going to talk things over for the group project, although once they'd sat down to order, she only briefly glanced at the menu before ordering just a glass of water. It wasn't that she wasn't hungry but she had no pocket money to speak of and although things smelled delicious, she was used to going without. 


"I'm still not really sure what this whole assignment is about," Robin commented, pushing her menu off to the side as the others went over the many options for dinner, "I mean, I've never had a creative writing class before. Is it just, you know, making up stories?"

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Huang peered up over his menu as Robin made her simple order and smirked shaking his head, "Robin, Rileys not here to impress with your stalwart self reliance so order something and we'll make sure you're covered."  he said with a slight sigh, "We don't invite people out to watch us chew it would just be weird."  he added for emphasis.  The teasing was lighthearted and clearly aimed at her assumptions rather than her financial situation.   He made his own order when his turn came and moved on to the topic at hand.


"Well there is certainly that aspect but the important part is the self important discussion of the meanings of your stories in the brouder melange of society."  Huang offered capturing both the spirit of creative writing coursework and utter disdain for it in one well constructed if flippantly ironic statement.

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  • 2 weeks later...



The Claremont students had a relatively enjoyable meal and discussed their creative writing plans for far longer than any of them cared to.  By the end of the meal the quartet were resolved in their intention.  After the bill was paid the group began setting about their return trek to the dorms.  Rounding the corner after a short walk they could hear a car horn beeping behind them.


Turning to face the source it was a cab.  The driver's face was silhouetted.  A combination of the veil of darkness in the air and the bright glare from his headlights bearing down on them.  Yet, there was something inviting, perhaps even calming about the cab.  In the silence of the night it was easy to hear the clicking noise as the door to passenger's seats unlocked.

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 Well, this was ominous. A cab pulls up, a door opens, and...they're invited in? Hannah looked at the others, and blinked. "Uh...did someone call a cab? I didn't. I mean, a cab would be appreciated, but I don't think any of us called for one." she was a little perturbed, and even with the calming presence of the cab, it was a bit suspicious. Was it a super powered cab? A magical cab? She hoped someone else had an answer, or at least a reason to hop in. She'd been mostly quiet during the dinner, and was frankly happy that her fellow students were willing to do some of the work. At her old high school group projects ended up being solo projects. She often didn't mind too much, but it was still very annoying.

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Phaedra shrugged.


"At this hour a ride is preferable to walking," she opined.  She could have flown back to Claremont, though that would have left the others behind, or she could have opened a portal but brought its own problems.  The young angel-demon hybrid made for the door of the cab, pulling her messenger bag around in front of her as she slid onto the rear seat.

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"Might as well," Robin agreed, after giving the cab a brief, thoughtful glance. If it was one of those urban horror stories of a psycho posing as a cab driver, probably best that they had this group of kids rather than any others. With the same sort of confidence she had in walking down blind alleys in the Fens, Robin shouldered her faded backpack a little closer and slid onto the cab's seat, scooting in to make room for the rest of the teenagers. 

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Huang peered at the sudden appearance of a magic cab and raised brow slightly.  No one else seemed off put by the cabs sudden appearance though and from what he recalled of sitcoms they just roamed the streets waiting to pick people up and be fought over so it didn't seem that odd all in all.  He waved them all in with a shrug, "Cabs patrol and we look like we need a ride right?"  he suggested and sat down closing the door with a smart nod, "Besides it's kinda magic what could go wrong in a magic cab?"  he added cheerily and tapped the back seat, "Claremont academy my good man!"  he declared because the difference between a checker cab and an old london horse drawn one was apparently lost on him.  His parents may be correct he needed to get out more.

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  • 3 weeks later...



 The cushions of the seats felt comfortable to the patrons of the cab.  But, in a different way.  It was as if someone had scanned a mental image of the most comfortable thing they had placed their butts on and created the sections individually out of that very same material.  But, a cursory look could tell the seats appeared to look like magic.  Aside from the magical forces Huang could divine.


"Call me Max."  The mysterious driver replied to the youth.  Even from inside the comfortable seats of the cab, his face remained obscured.  The rear view mirror lit in such a way so as to present a silhouette staring back at them.  He waited until the last of the students filed inside before putting the vehicle in drive.  The radio cycling to 50s dinner theatre without so much as his hand reaching over to touch it.

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