**May 28th, Year 1993, San Francisco, Fremont**
On the bustling streets of San Francisco, a school bus pulled over, releasing a swarm of kids. Excitement buzzed through the air since it was the last day of school. Meanwhile, older teens wore expressions of annoyance, knowing their parents expected them to secure summer jobs.
As the bus reached its final stop, a teenage boy with dark chocolate skin and an expertly groomed face disembarked. His poofy Afro ended in tight curls, giving him a distinct look. At 6 feet 1.83 cm tall, he wore his blue dress shirt and beige pants, part of his school uniform. He paused a moment, glancing back at the bus, clearly waiting for someone else.
With a sigh of annoyance, he walked back onto the bus. The bus driver smiled and turned to him with a chuckle. "He sure is one sleepy kid, huh Marcus?"
"Yeah, and I have to live with him," Marcus replied while making his way to the slumbering child in the seat. He gently tapped his shoulder. "Jordon, hey! Wake up, we're home."
Jordon jolted awake, his eyes frantic as they darted around. His unruly hair fell across his face, obscuring his vision momentarily. Upon recognizing Marcus, he relaxed slightly.
"Jordon, are you okay? Were those kids bothering you again?" Marcus's voice remained calm, yet firm.
Jordon looked up but quickly averted his eyes to the ground. "I had a strange dream. I was talking to a guy in a suit. He said his name was God." He spoke quietly, but Marcus heard every word.
"So now you're talking to God? Man, you've been spending too much time with Grandpa and Uncle," Marcus teased, wrapping an arm around Jordon's shoulders with a laugh.
As they approached their house, both noticed an unusual sight: Mom and Dad were home early. "That's strange. What do you think it is?" Marcus questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Jordon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm willing to bet they got groceries," he replied confidently.
Marcus laughed again. "I'll take that bet, and this is why you're my favorite little brother—"
"I'm your only little brother!" Jordon shot back, frustration seeping through his tone.
As they neared the house, a stunning woman in a red dress caught their attention. Her brown skin radiated beauty as she spotted the boys walking up the driveway.
"Well, if it isn't my two wonderful boys! How was school?" She enveloped them in warm hugs, planting kisses on each cheek.
"Mom, come on! I'm getting too old for kisses," Marcus protested but couldn't resist returning the gesture before stepping inside. "You'll never be too old to get kisses from me, Marcus Gabriel Helsing!" she replied with a teasing lilt. Turning her gaze to Jordon, she sensed something was off. "Hey there, little man. What's wrong? Was it those boys from school again?" She caressed his face, ensuring he met her eyes.
"I had a dream. I talked to God." Jordon's voice was perfectly clear, devoid of any trace of childish whimsy. His mother's expression shifted to one of seriousness. She quickly masked her concern with a reassuring smile. "Honey, I think you've been hanging out with Papa and Uncle Desmond too much. Let's go inside."
Entering the house, Jordon immediately spotted groceries on the counter and the ground. "MARCUS, YOU OWE ME 10 DOLLARS!" he yelled, racing up the stairs.
His mother chuckled, making her way to the kitchen to put the groceries away. "What's this about 10 dollars?" a deep voice resonated from behind her. It was David her husband, and his accent was one she adored. His strong arms wrapped around her, swaying them gently.
"I'm guessing Jordon won the bet about why we were home early. David, I need to tell you something he said." As she spoke, she moved around the counter and joined him at the table.
"Was it those boys again? I'll speak to their parents," he began, but she cut him off.
"No, David, it's something else."
"He said he talked to God," she whispered.
His eyes widened in shock. "We both know he's a special kid who sees things beyond our understanding. Given the state of the world, don't you think God could communicate with him?"
A shared understanding blossomed between them, an unspoken connection that ran deep.
"I need to contact my father, Zara, and some seekers. If he had a vision—" He halted, lost in thought.
"Then what?" she pressed.
"I don't know. The forces of darkness are at play."
Sudden, heavy footsteps echoed from upstairs, accompanied by the sounds of their sons playing. They both shared a sigh of relief and laughter, yet they could sense their lives were on the brink of dramatic change.
She caressed his face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I thought we would have more time with them; they're just kids." A lone tear trickled down her cheek as they held each other tightly.
"The forces of darkness are stirring… but we will face this together."
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