Xanatos' Curse

Chapter 1: Discovery

Osama looked down on his phone, reading the email for the hundredth time;

'Dear Mr. Almasari, -

It's Al Masari. Seriously, why is that so hard for people?

- We are pleased to inform you that after further consideration of your application you are hereby invited to the conclave: Youthful Minds for World Betterment, hosted by Avalon Inc. please see attachment for your entry pass, schedule of workshops, and hotel reservation. A separate attachment has also been added for those needing assistance in transportation. Our travel agents have received a list of invitees and are standing by to help with transportation needs, including, but not limited to car and air. All expenses for travel have been covered by Avalon Inc. simply follow the instructions in the attachment and provide the 8 digit code provided within the same attachment. We look forward to seeing you at the conclave and are excited to witness your involvement in the making of history. -

He shook his head, for an equal hundredth time, as the Caltrain came to its final stop in San Francisco. He stepped off, nuzzling himself in between the trains' other occupants and stepping out onto the platform at 4th and King Street.

His head couldn't stop shaking. Making him quickly consider what he probably looked like to everyone rushing past him as he walked through the station. Osama laughed out loud. Further heightening his inside joke.

Another crazy brown guy in the city, where's a Fox news reporter when you need one? He thought

Osama continued to laugh. There was a lot going on in the last couple days to put him in a manic mood. The beginning was this email. The second, was the fact he never sent an application for this world conclave. Even if he did, he was barely scraping by senior year, it was a blessing he would graduate! So how in the world was he invited to something this monumental? Lastly, and what was easier for him to grasp, though still unbelievable, was the hotel in which he was getting to stay at; The Fairmont!

Living in the Bay Area helped a little with Osama's hesitation with what he was being invited to. On one hand, he was on his home turf. Home always held the comfortable illusion that you were in more control. That confidence was what pushed him to accept the invitation. He was also able to get to the event without needing to call Avalon Inc.'s personal travel agents, pushing his luck that somebody might question him more about things he knew absolutely nothing about.

Osama paid his Uber driver,

"Keep the change, and use it well, we all need it these days!" He exclaimed

The driver gave him a, 'if you say so' look, then drove away. Osama turned and whistled. The Fairmont towered across the street. Its luxury reaffirmed by its location. On top of nob hill within San Francisco, it had one of the best panoramic views of the entire city. The San Francisco skyline and ocean sprawled down below it. In front of its vaulted entrance was a small park and across from that was Grace Cathedral, which in his opinion, always looked like a small Notre Dame. Or so he thought, though he'd never been to France.

"And here I thought the secret Tiki bar in the basement was fire. Move aside Zuckerberg, Osama-bin-movin' on up is here!" he shouted into the world

Osama danced across the cross-walk singing his quoted lyrics. He did his best to distract himself from his deep growing fear. What would happen if somebody found out he never turned in an application? Getting kicked out wasn't a big deal to him, he didn't feel like he belonged here anyway, plus he'd use it as a great story to tell his friends, but would he get thrown into jail? He already had a record, even at 17, and one more strike and he'd be headed for serious time.