Earth, New York,

Pork & fennel sausage rolls, chicken pot pies, shakshuka egg & feta danishes, dark chocolate & sour cherry cookies, blueberry & ricotta muffins, banana bread slices ; It goes on and on and on.

You name it, they have it.

Paul Allam was a proud baker, chef and founder of his multiple Bourke Street Bakery franchises.

First originating in Sydney, Australia, if you were to ask Paul ten years ago if he could foresee himself becoming a successful baker/entrepreneur with numerous franchises in the future, he would reply with a quick, "Hell no."

After many years of perseverance and hard work however, he'd now reached the point where he could sit comfortably and collect bank simply from lazing about his humble abode, without having to do any of the actual labour he once had to endure daily, whilst his head pastry chefs from among the franchises did their magic. But every once in a while, Paul himself would do the baking, for old times sake.

Success doesn't eradicate one's truest of passions.

He donned on his favourite purple polyester oven mitts and opened the oven, taking out a tray of sizzling hot hazelnut chocolate cookies and passing it to the chef pâtissier, who cautiously brought the tray out to the counter.

A veritable variety of tantalising desserts and pastries were displayed beautifully on the counter of their most lucrative franchise, the one in Midtown Manhattan, New York.

Paul remained at the back of the bakery—the kitchen—glancing at its surroundings and basking in the nostalgia, producing a smile of contentment. He wouldn't have had it any other way. He still couldn't believe that this was his life.

It was one of the franchises that produced a lot of memories, albeit some dramatic and questionable ones too.

Three years ago, he had caught two of his bakers, both male, getting in a physical altercation in the kitchen, throwing muffin batter at one another. Two years ago, the same two bakers were caught getting frisky during the bakery's closing hours. Last year, the bakery suffered a temporary closure, pending an investigation from the U.S. Food and Drug Administration ascribing reports from customers afflicted with food poisoning.

The sole perpetrator, a spiteful baker with a vendetta named Millian, being involved in the first two incidents, and suspected of the third, had since been fired.

But nothing would have prepared Paul for what he was about to encounter next.

Curious by a small purple glow which started near the door of the kitchen, Paul took a few steps closer to further scrutinise it.

From his experience watching countless number of movies of all genres, such mystical glows were usually an ominous sign. But to actually witness one was an intriguing occurrence, so he ignored his instincts and instead crept closer.

The glow suddenly expanded into a shape which looked like a gate with the glow then outlining it, but the sight caused him to fall to his buttocks, wishing that he should have trusted his instincts.

Swirls of airy purple tendrils started emanating from the glowing gate, then amalgamating into five figures. After the five of them solidified, the gate disappeared.

The menagerie of five looked around in a mix of excitement and confusion.

"You," Vorrus pointed to Paul, who was looking baffled and stunned while on the floor, "Is this the United Nations Headquarters?"

"—I.. Uh.." Paul stuttered in panic, disbelieved by the event before him.

"Vorrus, seriously! You lack alien speaking skills," chided Wefurn, who was apparently sitting on Vorrus's shoulders. "Let me handle this."

Wefurn leapt off of Vorrus and remained in the air.

"Hello....!" He did a long slow wave. "We are champions from another world. We are not here to hurt or kill your people, but rather, to help. A war between worlds is approaching, and Earth is in trouble. We come with a warning and a proposition. Is this the UN? Are you an..... Ambasedoh?"

"I believe the correct pronunciation is ambassador," corrected Zeva.

"Uh n—"

"—Do not be afraid to speak, human," interjected Vorrus.

"N— No.. This is my bakery," said Paul as he recomposed himself, slowly getting up. "God damn, this is some X-Men extraterrestrial bullshit."

Zeva and Wefurn spoke simultaneously—

"X-Men extraterrestrial? What do you mean child," said Zeva.

"Oh yes I've read about these bakeries! Me want pastries!" Said Wefurn, floating down to the ground.

Vorrus closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He always did this easily, as if a headache could even affect such prowess like him.

"Sibilar, I won't say that I'm disappointed. You're not Syrene anyway, but you were off the mark," said Vorrus.

"My apologies, Head Supreme," said Sibilar sheepishly as he slightly bowed his head.

"And since we don't have a TeleMagi with us, we cannot warp again," sighed Zeva.

"We could just use our PortaPortal back to Ossaria and renavigate!" Suggested Wefurn.

"Umm.. You guys are not very far off from the UN's Headquarters..." Said Paul.

"Please bring us there, human," implored Wefurn as he turned to face Paul. "And I would love some of your chocolate chip cookies. I'm sure you have them. Based on the data I've studied regarding bakeries, most of them have it. We could trade, I have something that might excite you. It's called Jubbjeeks," said Wefurn, raising his eyebrows up and down.

"Wefurn, no. Just no," said Zeva.

"Uhh.. Okay. Chocolate chip cookies.. And I guess I could bring you to the UN.." Said Paul, ruffling his thatch of brown hair trying to make light of things.

"Will we be riding on your beast?" Asked Vorrus.

"Beast? No.. No.. My.. Uh.. Car," clarified Paul.

"Explain yourself," said Vorrus.

"Car! A car! I would love to see this human invention you guys call a car! I have read about this in the data!" Wefurn exploded with excitement.

"Calm down, Wefurn," said Zeva.

"I cannot contain this excitement!!! This world is an adventure to behold! Do not tell me to ca—"

"—Wefurn!" Intoned Vorrus.

"My Ancients, okay."

"Very well. We shall go using your thing called a car," said Vorrus. "Champions, basic battle rules are in session. Flux, if you will," instructed Vorrus.

"—Wait.. Wha—? Basic Battle... R— rules..?" Stuttered Paul, as he receded a few steps.

"Do not worry, human," said Wefurn reassuringly, "this is just a precautionary measure in case your people do attack us. Please proceed, Flux."

"Okay, ready?" Said Flux. "By the way, human, I'm also going to be shielding you."

"...Shielding?"

"If your guns shoot at us, they might accidentally hit you too. Do not worry my dear human!" Said Wefurn with a smile wide like a banana. "We will protect you!"

"Wait... Guns, sh—shoot?!"

Flux looked up to the ceiling and extended his hands upwards. His eyes turned white as bone, and a white hue started to form on his hands.

"Aura Shield," He chanted, then he clapped his hands as they reached each other above his head, and a white ring started to release and slowly expand as it permeated the room.

At the sight, Paul became apprehensive, taking a few steps backwards, attempting to evade the mysterious white ring. Wefurn grabbed his arm to tug him lightly, but it was strong enough to stop him in his tracks.

"It's called a shield for a reason. It won't hurt you," he laughed erratically.

As the white ring touched everyone in the room, it gave a small whitish outline to them, and Flux released his hands to stop the spell from escaping out of the kitchen.

The chef pâtissier suddenly entered the kitchen, and everyone turned to face him.

"What in the—"

"It— It's okay. They mean no harm. They are from another world. The world of..."

"Ossaria!" Wefurn exclaimed with such fervour, lifting a finger up as he spoke.

"No. No. No," said the chef pâtissier as he abruptly walked out.

"Don't worry about him. He has anxiety," reassured Paul.

The four of the champions—except Wefurn—looked confused.

"Anxiety?" Zeva and Flux chimed together.

"It is a malady. A condition. An Earthly curse!" Clarified Wefurn.

"Uhh.. Yes.. Something like that.."

"By the way, how do I address you?" Asked Vorrus.

"Oh uhh.. Paul."

"Very well. My name is Vorrus, Head Supreme of Ossaria. The strongest champion to ever exist," said Vorrus, loftily. He then pointed to his group members as he spoke, "This is Wefurn, Zeva, Flux and Sibilar."

"Uhh. Okay. Hello. Shall we take a selfie before we go? My followers will not believe this!"

"A selfie? What is that?" Asked Vorrus.

"It is a way of taking an image! Like how we use our Digitacap to snap images for registries!" Explained Wefurn. "I would love to take a selfie with you, Mr Paul of planet Earth."

"Fine, but make it quick," said Vorrus.

"Wait, my hair's all messy," said Zeva as she spruced herself up.

Flux rolled his eyes.

After their selfie, Paul led the way, leaving the kitchen, with the rest of the group right behind him.

They entered the main bakery that was currently filled with a throng of customers, some sitting and enjoying their scrumptious food, some queueing up in line to order, some walking to collect their orders. The bakery, previously bustling with noise and gusto, suddenly turned silent, which was nothing but expected when witnessing a menagerie with mysterious white glow wearing strange outfits.

The sudden change of atmosphere made Vorrus stop to say, "Hello, humans of planet Earth. My name is Vorrus, Head Supreme of Ossaria. The strongest champion to ever exist. We have come to save this world, Earth."

"Cookie. Cookie. Cookie," said Wefurn as he poked Paul lightly. "Me want cookies."

A kid at the corner cheered in excitement, "Cool cosplay! I'm loving the glowy effects!"

"Cookies. Right." Said Paul as he went behind the counter, packing a melange of cookie flavours to go. He saw the chef pâtissier crouching behind the counter, trembling in nervousness. He looked imploringly to Paul. But Paul, being too excited in the moment, proceeded on without so much as a word to him.

The customers watched them anxiously as they left the bakery, faint whispers were heard amongst them as they went. After stepping out, they were hit with a chilly winter breeze, teasing a shudder from Wefurn, Zeva and Sibilar.

"Brrrr.." Said Wefurn as he hugged himself. "Cold, cold, cold."

"This is very cool," said Flux, as he touched a snowflake, watching it crumble into smithereens.

"It's currently winter here. You guys don't have snow in your world?" Asked Paul.

They all shook their heads.

The surroundings were teeming with people walking and chattering on, vehicles whizzing and horning by, a hotdog stand stood in a corner, and the liveliness of it all caused Wefurn's eyes to sparkle with excitement like a kid discovering something new.

"Very very beautiful!" He exploded in awe. "I'm guessing these are vehicles like cars, buses, trucks, etcetera etcetera! And the people! The camaraderie! So lively! Alive! Just like in Peachweather!" Wefurn jumped with excitement.

"Yes, yes. Gosh. This is fun. I thought my life couldn't get any more exciting!" Said Paul. "By the way, here is my car."

Paul pointed to his car, a red Porsche Panamera, which was parked on the sidewalk in front of the bakery.

"Amazing. Just amazing. It is beautiful," said Vorrus. "How do we get in?"

"Here." Paul opened the doors of the car. "To the UN, we go."

"Marvellous. Luckily for you, Paul of planet Earth, I do not know how to manoeuvre this thing," said Vorrus. "But since I am Vorrus, Head Supreme and strongest champion in Ossaria, I shall sit beside you."

They huddled their way into the car, except for Wefurn, who stood in admiration of the vehicle.

"Question, Paul." Said Wefurn as he thoughtfully put a finger to his lips, "May I stay on top of your car? I need a clear view, for research purposes. You understand, right?"