Ch.1- Trouble in Mumbai-

Today felt so ominous as the guys and we rode into town in our truck. For our next concert, we would be playing in Mumbai, India. It looked so magnificent, like another one of the paintings in the museum, only you can walk around in this picture and see beyond the image. I also heard that there was a celebrity around here, the recent winner of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, Jamal Malik. I was so excited to meet him, because he was an inspiration to me.

"Austin! Austin!" a voice called.

My head snapped up, as I turned to look at my friend, Klevon Terrel, a young, dark-skinned man from Cairo, Egypt, Africa. Klevon was a seriously talented drummer and he was sort of a softy. The guy behind him is the eldest one of our group, Benjiro Hiroshi, a swordsman from Hino, Tokyo, Japan, who could play any woodwind instrument you asked. The second youngest one of our group is our Russian friend, Vladimir Andrik, the most intimidating man I ever knew from St. Petersberg. And last but not least is the self-proclaimed leader and singer, Rogan Baryd, a man from Lisburn, Ireland. I'm the real leader of the band, my name is Austin Balendin, from Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain. The instrument I play is either the acoustic or electric guitar, both of which are easy for me to play. Anyways, Vlad parked the truck in front of an alley, near a store, so we could get out. Rogan stepped out from the back of the truck and looked around, disgusted.

"We had to play in one of the most poorest cities in the world." he muttered, lowly.

"Shut up, Rogan," I told him, angrily. "You're one to talk, you came from a poor city, we all did. Poor parts of a city that is."

"Don't tell me what to do, child."

I straightened my back and towered over Rogan, proving who the real bigger man was. I was not only the youngest of the group, but also the tallest. Rogan was the second tallest, but it was always fun to show who was bigger. So, Rogan finally shut up and walked away. Vlad and Klevon walked over to me and they shook their heads.

"Must you always do that?" asked Klevon. "You're just making him angrier."

"He's always pissed on a normal basis, Klev." I joked, smirking.

"Well, I'm going to make certain that he doesn't be a Prince John." Vladimir informed us, with a curt nod. "Benjiro said that he would be finding where we are supposed to play."

I nodded and Vladimir raced off to keep an eye on our pocket-picking companion. Rogan steals wallets and forces his fans to pay for autographs. Vladimir, being the nicest guy of the group, gives back double the money that they paid for an autograph. Klevon went to go check on Benjiro while I could go look for Jamal Malik. I walked around three entire blocks, but still couldn't find anyone who knew his whereabouts.

"Good grief, where is he?" I wondered, folding my hands behind my head. "Nobody here knows where he is, but they know who he is."

I sighed in defeat, looking back at my watch. I had plenty of time to goof off, so I did. And in doing so, I forgot to watch where I was going. I accidentally bumped into something that was rushing in my direction. I fell back and my head hit the earth hard.

"Ah, mother always said that I could never keep my mind and body in the same place, now I get why." I said, rubbing the back of my head. "What'd I hit?"

I looked forward and saw a woman lying on the ground in front of me. She was really pretty and had long dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, and I noticed a scar on her cheek. She wore a yellow scarf, a white blouse and blue jeans and black boots.

"Lo siento! I didn't mean to knock you down!" I said, helping her up. "Ai yi yi, I promise I'll watch where I'm going next time."

"It's alright, neither of us were being careful." the woman assured me.

She looked up at me, then blinked. Noticing how different I looked.

"You're not from here." she guessed.

"No, I'm from Barcelona, Spain." I explained, shyly. "My name's Austin Balendin."

"I'm Latika, nice to meet you, sir."

"Actually, I'm twelve still. I, uh, got a very early and...big growth spurt."

Latika shook my hand and then, we heard some running footsteps coming this way. Latika looked terrified as she got up again and ran. I was confused, but followed her all the same.

"Trouble, I guess?" I asked, curiously.

"Those men work for Javed, they're trying to kill me and my friend, Jamal." the woman beside me explained.

"'Jamal'? As in 'Jamel Malik'?"

"Yeah."

"Imponente! I don't believe this, you know him?"

"Yes. Why?"

"It's one of the reasons why me and my band came here, we've wanted to meet him. Have him be our guest at our concert."

Latika slowly turned to glance at me.

"You're with the band Extremist's Pride?*" she asked, excitedly. "I've heard about you guys, your music is amazing."

I blushed deeply. But that didn't stop me from continuing running from Latika's pursuers. Latika took my hand and led me through many twists and turns until we reached a nice looking mansion. She took me inside and quickly locked the door behind her. We sat down on the floor, catching our breath from all that running.

"You're quite the popular woman." I teased my new friend. "All those muchachos chasing after you."

"Sorry, I don't speak much Spanish." Latika said, her eyebrows raised.

"'Muchacho' means 'guy'. Sorry."

Before either one of us could say something, a door opened and shut as a man came down the stairs. He smiled down at Latika and then he noticed me.

"Ah, who's your friend, Latika?" he asked, politely.

Latika helped me off the floor and led me to the man.

"Uh, Jamal, this is one of the members of the band Extremist's Pride, Austin Balendin," Latika said, gesturing to me. "Austin Balendin, meet Jamal Malik."

"An honor to meet you, Senor Jamal." I greeted, holding out my hand for him to shake.

"Same to you, Mr. Austin." Jamal replied, shaking my hand.

"Call me Austin, I hate formalities, makes me feel superior and I don't do superior. Not my style."

Jamal laughed and then put an arm around Latika.

"I see you've met my wife." Jamal said, looking down at me.

My jaw dropped the instant he said that. I had no idea they were married. Okay, pause and rewind for a sec, I should have seen this coming!

"Unbelievable." I said in awe. "I should've figured."

Before Jamal could speak, something hard hit the door and I jumped. Jamal and Latika jumped as well, as they looked around.

"You've gotta be kidding me." I growled, slapping my forehead. "It's los estúpidos from infierno."

Jamal raised an eyebrow and I just remembered. We're in India, not Spain. They don't know what I'm saying. Instead of asking for a translation, Jamal takes Latika's hand and we all run upstairs to the window. There were three vans parked outside Senor Jamal's place and I saw some really tough hombres trying to break in.

"Any ideas?" I asked, looking up at the adults.

Jamal shook his head and so did Latika.

"In that case--" I began.

My sentence was interrupted by the sound of the door breaking down.

"Correr!!" I screamed. "I mean, run!!"

Okay, so Jamel and Latika meet Austin Balendin, a wanderer from Spain with a cool and laidback attitude, and they are now being pursued by a gang. And just for a reason, which I forget now, I'm bringing Javed back. And I will not allow flames, so don't even bother reviewing if you do.

* Extremist's Pride- A band I made up on the spot.