Six impossibile things before breakfast

The white Lancia-Chrysler Delta lands in front of the Marcianum school for foster children. A slender lady in a dark long dress and a large brimmed hat descends from the hover car. Her pale skin is mostly hidden by big, black sunglasses. She looks thirty-something.

The door opens and a middle aged woman appears. ‘Countess Orsini! It’s an honour for the school to have you here today, we…’
The lady in black raises a hand and stops the woman ‘thanks Director, now where is little Lawrence Gabrieli?’.
The woman gestures, clearly excited, pointing towards a corridor ‘He’s waiting in my office and we would really thank you for your donation, it is such…’
But the lady is already walking in the office direction. She opens the door and faces a seven year old child with long hair, holding a blue backpack.
The lady smiles and extends her hand: ‘I’m Frida. Are you ready to go?’.

The hover car dives in the lagoon, suddenly turning dark-blue on the exterior. The child covers his face in terror, but Frida touches his hands ‘it’s all under control, no more car crashes for you’.

Lawrence looks astonished while standing in front of a huge window: ‘I can’t believe this!’ Outside, algae and fish are passing by.
The lady raises a thin eyebrow ‘nothing an architect and a couple engineers couldn’t take care of: my grandfather decided we weren’t going to leave our palace by any means”.

‘Lawrence dear, what’s wrong with Isabella? Her mother told me you don’t want to see her anymore’. The boy stands still, looking at the muddy streams of water beyond the window ‘she spent the whole saturday’s party talking with another guy’.
The lady steps closer ‘well, but…’
The boy turns and grabs her wrists ‘I don’t trust her, Frida. I don’t trust her anymore!’

‘And you think smashing the teeth of a boy just because he drew a swastika on your book is a valid reason? Did I teach you wing tsun for that?’
Frida holds the pad with the teacher note until her fingers turn blue.

The man in a black armour with red details rushes in the huge hall, decorated with Tiziano paintings. ‘Frida, I’ve got to go. The bastards wanted me to blow a whole quarter of civils. They will report me to martial court. I made sure no one will ever bother you’.

The Agusta-Huawei helico silenty lands on the flat roof. It is all black with red details. A thirty-something lady wearing large sunglasses jumps down from it. Something big is burning in the distance.