Chapter 1: It’s Showtime! CHAPTER 1 IT’S SHOWTIME!
This is not how I wanted to die.

The apartment stairwell echoes with the thundering footsteps of assassins only two floors above. I chance a quick, panicked glance. Scratch that. One floor up.

Not that I want to die.

I put on a burst of speed, jumping the last few steps to the first-floor landing.

I don’t. I really, really don’t.

My breath comes out in ragged gasps, but it does little to cover the angry snarls growing louder and louder. I wince at the impact of the jump on my throbbing knee, the same knee I hurt three months before when I was fighting a different bad guy—Jun. I dash through a set of doors with the number one stenciled onto them and into a long hallway. How did I get myself into this? I would’ve thought that I deserved a break, after saving Dax and Cody from kidnappers; finding my dad; and ensuring that Huangdi—the evil man behind it all—and the members of the Five Claws—his criminal organization—were locked up.

With a roar the black-clad baddies blast through the doors behind me, metal objects flashing in their hands.

I guess I won’t be getting that break.

Residents start peeking out, curious about the loud sounds.

Oh no.

“Go back inside!” I scream.

I turn the corner, and I almost sob with relief when I spot the faded blue metal door at the end of the hallway, leading into the alley. I know Cody’s already outside, clearing out all the other baddies, and together we can fight the ones chasing me.

I’m halfway to the exit when I hear the brutes careening around the corner. Adrenaline courses through me. And panic. I hear a shrill ringing, punctured only by the rapid thumping in my ears. My scope of vision narrows until it’s like I’m looking through a long tunnel.

And it’s in that small field of vision that I see the very last door in the hallway opening, the one right in front of the faded blue door leading to safety.

Out waddles a small child, a toddler. In diapers.

“Move!” I yell to the baby.

The kid only holds up his ball. “Pway bwaw?”

There’s no time to play ball! My pursuers are right behind me. Colors in my head flicker rapidly, uncontrollably. Light, dark, light, dark.

Save the baby, save myself, save the baby, save myself.

I make a split-second decision. I reach out and grab the baby. Some of my friends got hurt this past summer because of bad people like the ones chasing me. I vowed never to let anyone get hurt again. The baby squirms, and I stumble. I feel the hot breath of a brute against my neck. I close my eyes, shield the baby with my back, and brace for impact.

It doesn’t come.

From the other end of the hallway, I hear a holler.

It’s Dax. His face glistens with sweat, and his clothes are torn in several places. I haven’t been this happy to see him since he saved me and Sanjay from plummeting over a building during the movie auditions this summer. Or when he walked into my hospital room, alive and well, after being kidnapped and knocked out.

“Hey!” Dax yells to the thugs. “Pick on someone your own size.”

He charges over. He attacks.

Black-clad bodies fly through the air and fall heavily onto the tiled floor.

Clutching the baby, I spring up, dash into the apartment, and deposit him into the arms of his shocked father. I rush back out and close the door behind me.

“Come on!” Dax slams open the faded blue door with his shoulder and sprints out into the alleyway.

Dax slowed down the assailants, but they are now springing back onto their feet with rage in their eyes. I race through the door. At the end of the alley, I see cars zooming past on a busy road, and people walking briskly. A mom pushes a stroller.

Why are there babies everywhere?

There’s only one thing to do.

I turn, plant my feet on the ground, hold up my fists.

Fight.

A hook-nosed assassin reaches me first. He lunges, but I’m ready. I reach deep inside myself and find a move from the Book of Joy, the ancient tome written by Xiao Xi, my ancestral grandmother, passed down from my grandfather to my dad to me, oldest child to oldest child, containing the mysteries of her powerful martial art, Xiaoxi-shu.

As the Chipmunk Charges is a super-effective technique. And it looks good.

Sinister faces quickly surround me.

It’s showtime! I scamper on the balls of my feet, lightning quick, scurrying closer, then bounding back. I throw a high roundhouse, followed by a spinning reverse hook kick. A side kick to the chest sends one baddie flying. For the finale I leap into a string of kicks, each one landing on an arm, a torso, a chest, and down they go like bowling pins.

A sharp howl pierces the air from above. Reinforcements! Four figures swing down from balconies holding menacing weapons. Thick wooden sticks, an iron pipe, and one long, lethal-looking chain.

I glance to the end of the alley. It’s empty. Where did Dax go?

I take a step back, suddenly feeling very alone despite being surrounded by people. But these are no friends of mine.

I kick up a lid from a garbage can, hold it like a shield.

Ready.

I hear faint music, my ears barely picking up some sort of tinny tune over my ragged breaths and the clink of chain links dragging on the ground as the group creeps closer.

The music grows louder.

An assassin raises his pipe.

Honk, honk. A blur of red, white, and blue zooms into view.

“I’m back.” It’s Dax, hanging off the side of a—I squint—Mister Sprinkles ice cream truck?

“And me!” Cody’s behind the wheel.

“Arghhhhh!” the assassins yell, attacking at once.

“Arghhhhh!” Dax and Cody scream in unison.

Blurs of white and brown fly though the air.

Whack, whack, whack, whack….

A flurry of soft serve cones splatters squarely onto four startled faces, stopping the killers in their tracks.

What the… My eyes widen.

Streaks of vanilla stream down foreheads, slide over noses, drip onto lips. One bad guy discreetly sticks out the tip of his tongue, licking the ice cream. “Mmm,” he murmurs softly.

I bite down hard on my lip. Focus!

Gramps runs up behind the truck, huffing and puffing, wearing a Mister Sprinkles apron and shaking his fist, bellowing, “Bring back my dessert distribution vehicle, you bandits!”

I manage to keep my scowl steady. That is, until Gramps stomps past me grumbling under his breath, “This isn’t the kind of car chase scene I had in mind,” and yanks Cody out of the truck. Gramps flicks Cody’s nose. “This is for stealing my truck. And this”—flick—“is for not wearing a seat belt.”

Gramps wasn’t kidding about his improv skills.

I can’t hold it in anymore. I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach, leaning against the brick wall for support. I don’t stop, even when I hear our director yell, “Cut! Once again, Mr. Torres, the ice cream truck driver doesn’t talk!”