As the sun emerged from the clouds, kids head over to the cafe, showed their permits, and distanced themselves from the hotel guests.

They rubbed their filthy sneakers on the ocean blue tiles until radiant beams of light caught the sleep-deprived teens red-handed.

The sun's fiery scowls provoked Caleb to protect his eyes; however, this ploy backfired when he bumps into an obese white woman.

In spite of the gray atmosphere, the woman wears a bright pink dress and autumn brown sandals.

Her hair is the color of melted chocolate; her wrinkles tainted her once youthful skin, but her innocent hazel green eyes succumbed with hatred.

Caressing her right shoulder is a recent tattoo of the American flag, but thanks to Caleb all the colors were smudged.

Embarrassed, Caleb attempts to walk up to the woman and apologize, but Johnny grabs his arm then drags him away.

A stunned Caleb scowled, "what's up, man?"

"Just leave her be," Johnny whispered. "It is not worth apologizing for."

Warm sunlight-that once overpowered Caleb- hurled onto egg blue walls and windows.

The open space not only made everyone feel right at home, but they can watch the waves unravel on the pale yellow sand.

Outside of the hotel were cars darting across the dark gray asphalt-like balls rolling on a pool table.

Apricot-colored gravel spread for miles until it reaches the blue sea invaded by ecstatic tourists.

Sitting close to the window, Brooke is not only amazed by the alluring scenery but the enormous spread on the table.

Porcelain plates were passed around filled with white plastic cups of hummus, toasted whole-grain bread, soft cheese, fresh fruits, and oatmeal sweetened with honey and nuts.

"This breakfast is delicious." she swooned. "I wish I had the recipe for their oatmeal."

Johnny smiles as he scoops the hummus with salty Ritz crackers.

"Yeah," he agreed. "At first, I thought hummus was disgusting until I tried it."

Nessa stares at Brooke's oatmeal in envy and sighed: "Your oatmeal looks so good. God, I wish I wasn't allergic to gluten."

Caleb lowers his spoon of cool fruit and frowns: "Do you want to order something else?"

But the girl humbly shakes her head.

"Nah, I'm good." she frowned.

Brooke takes a bite of her sweetened honey oatmeal.

She wears nude makeup, a vintage denim jacket, a black crop top, flared jeans, and light-brown chunky heeled loafers.

Her Latino sweetheart, Caleb Wolfe wore an ink-black Starter jacket.

His gray Wu-Wear T-shirt and long khaki pants were a bit too large for him, but at least his brown Timberlands secured his scrawny feet.

But even though he comes off as an arrogant gangster, Caleb seems more relaxed than the quiet Johnny and his fiery little sister Nessa.

After clearing their table, the female server disappears into the kitchen and returns holding a rectangular tray of the cooled cinnamon rolls.

"Does anyone want a cinnamon roll?" she asks in a friendly voice. "They're free."

Mesmerized by the gooey icing, everyone's hand shot up.

Delighted, the young waitress placed the tray in the center of the kids. Taking one from the massive pile, Nessa devoured her soft dessert in two quick bites.

Her chestnut hair gleamed in the sun, whereas hazel-colored eyes examine the white glazed flakes sprinkling at the table.
She adorns a blue baggy rain jacket, white baby tees, frayed jeans, and black leather combat boots.

As Nessa nibbled on her delectable cinnamon bun, Caleb politely thanked the waitress for everything.

"Can we also get some milk, please?" Johnny inquires.

The waitress bobs her head. "Sure."

Caleb takes two large cinnamon rolls off the plate and hands one to his girlfriend.

"Everyone knows that milk always goes well with dessert," he states as a matter of fact.

"Especially my Abuelo."

"Oh really?" Brooke asks, taking a small bite of her dessert.

"Yep."

"So, what?" teased Nessa. "Are you, like, the cinnamon bun whisperer now?"

Caleb frowns in his direction. "Haven't you tried cinnamon rolls with milk?"

"Not really, no."

A surprised Johnny compressed her eyebrows at his little sister.

"You've never tried cinnamon rolls before?" Johnny repeated. "I think I remember you eating one during last year's Thanksgiving."

Nessa shakes her head. "I did, but I ate it with fruit punch."

"Why?"

"Because I was trying to wash down the taste of that awful Arroz con Leche you made."

"Shut up, Nessa."

"It's true," she claimed. "Hell, if Mom were here, she would have lost her shit if I talked smack about your cooking."

As the siblings bicker, the waitress noticed the boy's appearance—a deep blue plaid flannel shirt, stonewashed jeans, and black high top sneakers.

Although he seems cute to look at, the waitress tells the kids: "If anyone needs anything, just give me a call, okay?"

The four teenage misfits bob their heads in delight.

"Of course," Brooke smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, guys."

Before she picks up her tray, Mary caught a glimpse of Johnny reading a book and asks him what is it about.

"Nothing special," he lied. "Just Trigonometry math equations."

"Ugh, are you doing Trigonometry?" Mary grimaced.

Johnny flutters his eyebrows; he has no idea what Trigonometry is, but he is desperate to keep the waitress from knowing the truth.

"Yeah." he lied. "It's a fucking nightmare, but I have a math tutor who helps me out."

"Cool."

The female server was about to pry into the kids' past when an old couple called her over.
Something about getting them a refill of their iced lemon tea.

Grinning in their direction, the waitress politely carries her tray over to the next table and finally leaves the kids alone.

Observing her from afar, Nessa snorts: "Good riddance. I thought that wench would never leave us alone."

Johnny munched on his cinnamon bun, then shrugged: "At least these pastries are good."

Minutes after he takes a bite of his dessert, Caleb saw Brooke's parents and Triton approaching their way.

Triton wears a red Hawaiian printed T-shirt, khaki pants, and brown Birkenstocks. And while his sunhat concealed his hairless head, Triton wore black sunglasses.

To his amazement, Triton asked them: "You kids have already eaten your breakfast?"

"Yeah, we're eating cinnamon rolls." beamed Nessa. "Do you want to try one?"

Brooke looks at Adelaide who sported a plain white T-shirt, skinny jeans, and baby yellow flip-flops.

Her spouse, on the other hand, wore a bright purple Metallica T-shirt, shredded denim jeans, and dark gray sneakers.

Embarrassed, Brooke broke her cinnamon bun in two, then offers the glazed chunk to Adelaide.

"Sorry, Mom," she says softly. "You can have mine if you want."

Nonetheless, Adelaide shakes her head.

"There is no need for you to apologize, love." she insisted. "Your father, Triton, and I had eaten some granola bars."

Caleb's thin brows furrowed. "Are you sure you guys are not hungry?"

"We're sure."

After the chit chat subsided, the adults sat beside the children to talk about the mission.

"So," Thomas begins to say. "What have you learned so far, kids?"

Caleb puts down his cinnamon bun, picks up a heavy, light brown book from the stack, and opens it for everyone to see.

"Whoa," Brooke breathed. "These pictures are beautiful."

Johnny nods in agreement. "Looks like Nessa and Caleb snagged a big one."

A concerned Triton tilts his head as his fingers outlined around the inked words reclining on the ivory pages.

"How much did these books cost?" he asks suspiciously.

Caleb and Nessa exchange hesitant looks and reluctantly told him the price.

"WHAT?" Triton screeched. "These books cost thirty-seven silver guineas?"

His loud outburst caused the many hotel guests to jump up in surprise.

Seeing his reaction, Caleb laughed nervously.
He knew his friends would be pissed at the fact that he threw all his money away, but Caleb did it for a good cause.

Stretching her left eyebrow, a worried Brooke asked: "You paid the cashier thirty-seven silver guineas?"

He bounced his head glumly. "Yeah, but these books were totally worth the money."

Nessa reclines her back against the wooden chair, observing the adults' faces. "Yesterday, this Gorgon cashier Arthur told Caleb and me about this monster."

She jabs her finger at the bloated sea mutant baring its teeth in front of the group. Peering at the illustrated page, a surprised Thomas massaged his hairy chin.

"You two think a Cetus is behind the killings?"

"Well, it's a hunch," shrugged Nessa.

Triton looks at her funny. "Are you sure about that? Because it says here that the Cetus was killed by Perseus."

"And that he used Medusa's head." Adelaide states as her brown eyes study the ink-black sentences.

In an instant, Caleb and Nessa stop smiling.

"So," said Nessa. "What you're saying is that thing is. . . dead?"

Feeling sorry for them, Brooke gives Nessa and Caleb a reassuring smile.

"It was a good theory, guys," she says in a soft voice. "But before we jump to conclusions, I think we should learn more about the creature."

Johnny stops eating his hummus, leaving a trail of green gunk on his upper lip.

"Brooke is right," he calmly says, wiping his green mustache off. "Learning more about the sea monster will help us take it down."

As soon as the kids were finished eating their cinnamon buns, they passed the books around and started their research.

They read through each book, took out sheets of paper from their backpacks, and wrote the name of every sea monster that inhabits North America.

Johnny quietly read a book about Jenny Greenteeth when Triton spoke about La Llorona.

"What about La Llorona?" he suggested.

"I don't think so," Caleb answers, shaking his head. "Because last I checked, the witch prefers drowning children-not cruise ships."

All of a sudden, the waitress returned; but this time, she placed four glasses of warm milk in front of the children.

"Here you go," she grinned. "I hope you guys enjoy your milk."

The Kings and Triton look at the children very funny.

"Whoa, you kids ordered cinnamon buns and milk?" Thomas asks in surprise.

Nessa innocently slumped her shoulders.

"Why not?" she asked. "The waitress even said that these delicious pastries were free."

Triton peers at the large cinnamon buns piled on a deep blue plate and expressed an exhausted sigh.

"Alright, just don't eat too much, okay?" he asks them.

The four teenage misfits grinned, set down their dusty books, and bobbed their heads.

As soon as they thanked the waitress, the children tore their dessert, dipped the pieces in milk, and consumed the pastries with delight.

White glaze flakes and cinnamon dissolved like sugar in hot coffee.

Seeing the children eat their cinnamon buns, the adults chuckled. For a while, they haven't seen the kids act this normal since Idlewild Boarding School shut down.

"Kids, don't eat too fast!" Thomas warned in a humorous tone. "It's not a race."

After they finished their chewy pastries, the teenagers drank up their cinnamon-flavored milk greedily.

Just as Brooke wipes the corners of her lips with a napkin, she notices two men looking at their table.

They wore black fedora hats, dark gray coats, grayish-brown slacks, and rubber goulashes.

But because they sit in the dark right-hand corner of the room, their skin and hair color are ambiguous.

"Hey," Brooke frowned, lowering her warm dessert. "Who the hell are these guys?"

Puzzled, the children, Triton, Adelaide, and Thomas all turn their heads and caught the men's attention.

"Could these guys be trusted?" Johnny asks Caleb.

The adolescent telepath listens to the men's thoughts, then shook his head no.

"Why? Are they dangerous?" asked Adelaide.

"They're undercover pigs investigating a dead Kraken on the beach," answered Caleb. "And so far, they're doing a bad job spying on us."

Thomas' eyes widen in sheer terror.

"Are you fucking serious?" he growled.
Caleb placed his dirty spoon on his tiny, blue dish.

"Jesus Christ." Johnny covers his side of his face with his right hand. "Why are they following us?"

The young telepath takes a deep breath and released a disgruntled moan.

"Well, because A) our stuff is in Brooke's aunt's beach house," he grumbled. "And B) they want to know more about-"

Caleb stopped when he finds a charismatic businessman standing behind Johnny's chair.
This guy is in his late twenties-maybe more. His hair is tousled; his green eyes shimmered like emerald-colored grass.

As for his attire, the guy wears a drab gray business suit, black tailored trousers, and brown loafers.

His smile is charismatic, but his expression is shrouded with complete mystery.

"Sorry to interrupt your breakfast," he says sympathetically.

"I just came over here to get a cup of coffee when I heard you guys were talking about a rampaging sea monster?"

A flustered Thomas reassures him that their conversation is about some old movie he had watched when he was a kid.

However, the businessman didn't believe in his story.

"Are you sure about that?" he asks in an unsure tone. "For a minute, I thought you kids were telling the truth."

Lifting his hand, Jason gives everyone's a firm handshake and introduced himself as Jason Young.

But when he asked for the group's names, no one was willing to trust him.

"We're . . . tourists," Brooke says softly. "We didn't mean to scare you."

The businessman meekly held up his hands.

"Why are you apologizing for, miss?" he chuckled. "You guys are the first people who have nothing to hide-unlike some fucking hypocrites."

Lowering his hands, Jason jerks his thumb at the two suspicious characters sipping their coffee mugs.

Stunned, Brooke wanted to know how he knew about the cops.

Caleb tries to probe inside Jason's head, but to his surprise, all Caleb could hear is absolute silence.

"This guy is so weird," he thinks warily.

As if he is reading Caleb's thoughts, Jason turns his head and politely reprimands him that it is not nice to stare at him.

"Sorry," Caleb frowned. "It's just that I think you never told us anything about yourself."

Jason puts on a wan smile. "Neither do you, but I bet your parents don't want to talk to a mysterious stranger like me."

Nessa looks at him for a moment then said something that started Jason. 

"Hey." he began. "You never told us where you work."

The businessman stops walking towards the glass door.

"I work for a corporation that takes care of problems." Jason sighed.

A confused Triton tilts his head. "So. . .you kill monsters?"

Jason opens his mouth to speak; but instead, he closes his mouth, reaches into his left pocket, and tosses a light gray card in the center of the white table.

"I am sorry for the interruption, but you want to talk," he sighed. "The number is on my card."

The children peer at the card but don't say anything.

Scratching his head, Jason Young observes the teens' unusual behavior then calmly left the hotel without saying a word.