Chapter Thirteen

Expected But Still Surprising


Nagista winced and Jonah groaned. Maybe laughing wasn't the best idea right now.


Josh felt a twinge of guilt for leaving the baseball players behind. The door clicked shut behind them and a quick tug proved it had locked. The remaining students grimaced to each other, silently wishing the two the best of luck. They continued on in chronological order, the next room over being the girl's locker room.

Going inside proved the same result as the last room. According to Mai, the room looked exactly the same. Kusakabe approached where he knew the barrier stood, and the others stepped back. He took a deep breath before giving the air a sharp tap. He snapped his hand back with a hiss, waving it like it had been burned.

"Definitely Gokudera's lock," the leader grumbled. Sure enough, the flared to life, ripping across the space in a fiery rage. The red glow cast an unnerving light across the room, and Josh suddenly wished he hadn't been picked by Gokudera. No sound filtered through the wall, and squinting through it proved to be impossible. The only difference they could spot was a bulky structure in the middle of the open floor.

"And the lucky contestant is . . . me," Josh gave a half-hearted smile and jazz hands. "Okay, so, how does this work . . . ?"

"That's for you to figure out," Kusakabe stated, stepping away from the barricade. "We need to keep moving." He started for the door the moment he had finished speaking, pausing with his hand on the knob. "Good luck," he threw over his shoulder.

Josh tried hard not to be scared. He failed miserably. If the Assistant Head of the Disciplinary Committee was wishing him luck, he was in pretty bad shape. The others seemed to pick up on this as well. Akane gave him a little thumbs up, and Mai patted his back sympathetically.

"Thanks guys," he muttered, "I get the feeling I'll need it . . ."

They were gone all too fast. Josh chewed his lip and looked around in his confined space. He envied [-the-] Jonah and Nagista – at least they had each other; Josh was all on his own. He tried to shake off the feeling and get to business.

"Give me something to work with . . ." He pulled Gokudera's gift from his pocket hopefully. He had no idea how the cube was supposed to work. His friend had told him that this was Flame Arrow, but it didn't make sense! It defied everything that he had learned about physics – what about the conservation of mass?

In his mulling, he didn't notice a sliding noise. He sprang a foot in the air as an electronic voice called out, "Present Identification." He whipped around and found a panel of the wall had moved to the side, revealing a touchscreen. Forgetting his composure, Josh squealed and ran up to inspect it. Compliments and nonsensical things spilled out from his lips, giddy with awe. He loved technology, and this had easily made the top of his list of "The Coolest Things He Had Ever Seen". Well, right under Flame Arrow.

"Oh, right, identification," Josh was reminded by the letters on the screen. "Does this count?" He held out the small cube. A green light scanned the object, and it took all his self-restraint to hold still, though a squeal slipped through.

"I.D. Accepted," a voice declared, "Tenth Generation Storm Guardian, Hayato Gokudera."

Josh's eyes were drawn to the picture that popped up on the screen. It was of Gokudera, dressed and primped in a three-piece suit. He didn't seem to approve of the outfit, as he left the jacket open. He wore a red tie, which was sloppily tied, though his shirt collar was neat. The button-up was impressively untucked. He wore several rings on both hands. His expression conveyed irritation, and a cigarette dangled from his lips. The picture shrunk away, and Josh's attention drifted to the text that was currently writing itself.

"Name: Hayato Gokudera.

Family: Vongola. Rank: Storm Guardian.

The Tenth Generation Storm Guardian, serving under the Vongola Decimo.

Is considered Decimo's "Right-hand" and is second-in-command, as well as a chief strategist. Mid/Long range fighting style, preference for dynamite. Uses a self-designed fighting system, called "System CAI." Primary weapon is a modified firearm formally called "Flame Arrow" with a variety of bullet types and a complex box weapon system, including one box animal. Box animal is a Storm Leopard. Has received training informally from "Trident" Shamal, and- formally from "Poison Scorpion" Bianchi, and the Acrobaleno Reborn. Skilled with guns, bombs, and a master tactician."

Suddenly, several things clicked into place in Josh's head. He knew Gokudera had been involved in something or other; so while he tried not to think about what, it was no surprise to hear he was in some kind of "Family." Being second-in-command explained his overreaction to being asked if he was the boss, as he was most likely very loyal to the person. His status as tactician also explained why he had been handing out encrypted orders.

Josh tried not to focus on the shadows of fear that crept into his mind. What was his friend involved in? Was he okay? If he was so highly ranked, would that put him in more danger? What was he even in charge of? The questions overtook him as he absently navigated the page. With a loud noise, the blood red wall wavered and faded.

Josh didn't have time to analyze the room. He was thrown to his right, jarring his shoulder violently against the wall when he hit. It wasn't over yet; a second blast pushed him back, forcing him into the corner. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping like a fish out of water. He tried to shield his face with his arms, eyes watering. His legs were locked to prevent him from collapsing as he used the wall as support. He could barely think straight – his mind was in a swirling state of disarray. He mentally slapped himself. He needed to focus! There was no physical substance to the power that was pushing him back, but it felt sharp and cold. Wind?

Suddenly, the air stilled. Josh peeked over his arms and blinked away the tears welling in his eyes. He could now see what the structure in the middle over the room was. The wooden platform reached up to his knees, and a fan sat at each corner. These weren't the little tabletop fans you used when in the summer; huge, industrial fans that could blow over a table with ease. The four fans each faced a different direction.

Josh couldn't glean any more information before the wind kick started again. He grunted as the force plowed into him. He felt like he had been punched in the gut, losing his breath once again. He recovered faster this time, however, and grit his teeth as he waited it out. The second pause came, and he lurched into action. He tripped over himself in his desperation and managed to catch himself with one hand, but it was too late. The next torrent of abusive wind crashed through, dragging him back down. He really did fall this time – his head whiplashed back into the wall.

The next couple of seconds were a blur. The fog in his mind cleared away, but his thoughts remained sluggish and muddled. It briefly registered that the wind had stopped once again, but in the same second it began again, twofold. Josh braced himself for impact. From his fetal position, he did not lose his breath, thankfully, but his already sore legs were taking a beating. The next pause rolled around, but he knew he wouldn't be able to make it out in time. Instead, he forced his feet under him and stood. He had enough time to wedge one shoe in the corner, for leverage, before the process restarted.

This time, he was ready. When the air went dead, Josh pushed off the wall to gain speed. He kept extra attention on his legs, which threatened to stumble and buckle. When the fans whirled back to life, he was out of the direct line of fire. The currents still tugged at him, but he managed to hold his position. While he waited for his head to stop spinning, he studied the placement of the fans.

One was settled in the left corner of the room, facing the door. The platform sat in front of Josh, which he now noticed had an object in the center. It appeared to be a black iron bird cage, expanded to ridiculous proportions. A mass of white and tan fur was inside, hunched over against the violent winds that surrounded it on all sides. Dark brown spots were scattered over the spine, and a tail tipped in the same color was wrapped around its body. Josh couldn't quite tell what animal it was with its head tucked like that, but if he had to guess, he'd say it was a cat. On all sides of the feline's prison, the fans faced different directions: the upper right faced left; the upper left faced south, towards the door; the lower right faced north, towards the back of the room; and the lower left faced right.

It was a complex trap, and Josh was not eager to solve it. He knew if he made too many mistakes, he would end up with a few broken ribs, at the very least. The actual lockers were behind the snare, with a pole situated in the middle, the bottom half of which was covered in mirrors. He noticed what looked like hand dryers mounted on the ends of locker rows, the purpose of which he did not know. They were too high to be convenient, really, and he made a mental note to ask Mai about them. The only reason the machines gained his interest was because they also caused wild outbreaks of wind. The nozzles had been ripped out, and the gaping holes let out sizable currents.

Josh wasn't sure what to make of the room. He figured its purpose was to guard the cat in the center, so logically his goal would be to release the animal. He wondered why there was even a cat so important that someone had felt it necessary to build this death trap. He was drawn out of his thoughts when the fans took another break. The object of his attention poked its head out, staring at him. Its bright red eyes surprised Josh a little bit, but he pushed past that. The cat lifted its tail and seemed to wave him over. When he approached, mindful of the fan that barred his way, the feline reached out with its claws to swipe at the lock on its cage.

"What, it's locked? Where am I supposed to find a key in this mess?" The only answer was the chugging of the fan blades turning back on. Swearing, he leapt away from the platform before the wind could throw him somewhere else. Another look over the room revealed no obvious hiding places. The most likely location was either the teacher's office in the corner (which he could not reach from his current position), or over by the lockers.

Moving from this one spot was going to be harder than he had thought. He already knew this wouldn't be easy, but when he factored in the hand dryers on the lockers, it became more complicated. The lockers in this room were built against the wall in the back, and formed a fat U around the column, which was about 2 meters across. The room was split in half, one part being the previously mentioned lockers, the other part being taken up by the showers. Directly south of the lockers was the teacher's office.

Josh's predicament came from the troublesome hand dryer that was angled to toss him into the fan facing the door, which would then force him back into the corner. He couldn't let that happened again. If he hugged up against the platform, then he might be able to squeeze past, but the second fan he would have to pass would throw him into the post if he got too close – and he would be very close.

Well, he wasn't accomplishing anything by standing here. Throwing caution to the wind – literally – Josh came as close to the active fan as he dared, even though he was on the opposite side of the current. He shuffled forward, his eyes locked onto the ground under his feet, refusing to look up. He could feel the harsh torrent of air buffering his side, and the closer he got to the source, the more intense it felt. By the time he reached the far side of the structure, he was sideways and sucking in his stomach. He felt too nervous to even breathe, at this point. He was smack dab between two opposing fans; he felt like they were trying to rip him in half.

He studied his options with severity. The current leading back to the door raged behind him; the other current that would smash him into either the column or the lockers behind it, if not both, blustered before him. Taking baby steps, he moved closer to the wind at his back, hoping that being so close to the source would lessen the range it had. He almost overshot the distance – his foot skidded away from him when it got caught, but he managed to pull it back before the rest of his body followed.

Collapsing on the safe side of the pole, Josh laughed breathlessly. "And that's why you always look both ways before crossing the road, kids!" Talking to yourself wasn't a good sign, but he felt he should be given some leeway considering the stress he was under. When he had recovered his breath, he dusted off his pants and got to work. This side of the pole was bland, serving no other purpose than to show him his disheveled appearance. He gave a lopsided grin to his reflection before moving on. The far side of the column proved much more useful. This side had been hidden from his line of sight previously. It took a few moments, but he noticed a shiny object was hanging from a nail, right above the mirrors. Josh was fairly tall for his age, but these were full-body mirrors, and there was no way he could reach the key from this height.

Humming in annoyance, Josh once again considered his choices. He wasn't tall enough to reach, and jumping proved no help, especially with his heavy limbs and spinning head. He needed to be smart about this; improvisation would be required. There was nothing he could use as a step ladder, and a quick sweep of the lockers that were available to him revealed them all to be empty. As a last resort, he tested his weight on the bench that ran the length of the lockers. It held fast, no surprise, so he hopped up. He nervously glanced between his position and the key he needed, judging the distance. He had no momentum to help him, as the he hardly fit on the bench already. He could not use the trick he had used to escape the Corner of Death; there simply wasn't enough room.

Putting his faith in his tired legs, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He knew that if he went too far to the left, he would be tossed back like a rag doll. Too far to the right, and he would get sucked away.

Screw it.

Vaulting off the bench, Josh threw his hands out. Panic returned its familiar grip to his heart when his fingers fell short of their target. He made a frantic swipe with his other hand, hitting the tip. The silver key lifted slightly from the bump, the thread slipping over the head of the nail. It clattered innocently to the ground while Josh's momentum carried him into the pillar.

The teen slid to the ground, groaning and rubbing his shoulder. He had been thrown around ever since he had entered this room; he couldn't tell if his shoulder was dislocated or not. Considering all the other injuries he had acquired, he couldn't care less. At least he had key now. Exhausted, he let his head fall back against the wall.

Thump.

"Wait," he gasped, pushing himself up and around to face the column, "No way!" He rapped his fist against the mirror, listening closely. It sounded . . . strange. The boy's locker room didn't have mirrors, and they did not have a pole either, so he was really just guessing, but . . . He'd have to try. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, with no way to get out.

Standing on tip-toes, he managed to slip his fingertips over the rim of the mirror. He suddenly became extremely grateful for his tall height, or else he would have had to jump to reach the top – he was not eager to repeat that experience. However, his position did not leave him with much leverage. Mentally apologizing to his arms, Josh pulled with all his might. The mirror shook, and the top came loose from the panes. With a few more tugs, the mirror had come free, revealing open space rather than brick wall. Carefully leaning the fragile object on the lockers, Josh stepped into the hollow. He couldn't see while inside of the column, but like its outward appearance suggested, it was not very large. His hands brushed the wall almost immediately, bringing a sense of reassurance. However, it also brought a feeling of dismay. Surely he hadn't discovered this hole, but there was nothing inside?

Putting both hands to the wall in front of him, he groped around in the dark. A cobweb latched on to his face and he pulled back. Sputtering and swiping at the vile thing, his elbow struck the wall. He hugged the appendage close to his chest, swearing profusely. Today was not his day.

"Oh, come on!" In frustration, he kicked the wall. Probably not his best idea. He focused on the soreness in his foot for about five seconds before it was redirected to the wall. The structure rattled loudly, dust crumbling from the ceiling and coating his black hair. Was it not stable? Resting his shoe squarely in the middle, Josh beat against its surface. It gave way almost immediately, snapping in half. The lower section clattered to the concrete, but its upper twin seemed perfectly fine with staying lodged in place. Ducking under the obstacle, Josh squinted his eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting.

The room was as he had left it, of course, but now he viewed it from behind the cage. The cat was looking over its shoulder to watch him, surprised by him emerging from the column. He shrugged to it and smiled – just go along with it. It flicked its ears and laid its head down in resignation.

Pleased with himself, he turned his attention back to the situation at hand. Josh honestly was unsure of how to proceed. The wind stream in front of him came from the fan on his left, and to his right was the stream he had just danced around. He checked his surroundings to see if there were any useful items lying around, of which there were – of course – none. The student puffed out his cheeks and started to pace, trying to work out his situation. He absent-mindedly kicked a pebble as he walked, launching the pebble into the jet stream.

Wait a minute, was that . . .

Could it be . . . a plan?

By Josh, it was!

He whipped around, dashing back to the column and sliding under the wall, baseball-style. Okay, that was a bad idea, now his legs hurt, but he felt it was justifiable in the excitement of the moment. Rolling to his knees, Josh began animatedly searching the small space, aided by the light filtering through the newly made opening. There was nothing within the crevasse, but he refused to be disheartened. He picked up the broken half of the wall and took a deep breath. He swung it down with just the amount of force he knew he would need, and sure enough the surface snapped over his knee. He ignored the sting and set one half down.

Keeping the second part in hand, Josh scooted as close to the air current as he dared. This would take a whole book of planning, a bushel of balance, and heaping of good timing, and just a pinch of pure recklessness. Good thing that he had that last ingredient in abundance.

When the cycle came full round and the fans stopped, Josh readied himself. He stretched his arm as far as out as it would reach, and hastily shuffled his feet to provide the best support. A countdown started in his head: One . . . Two . . . Three! The fans exploded to life and Josh braced himself. The wind slammed into him, the board ripped from his hand. He threw himself out of the way and tucked into a roll. The board that had been stolen was thrown into the adjacent fan. It was stuck dead-center on the side before it started to slip to the right, getting sucked into the second fan's flow. It was then thrown into the lockers, where Josh could hear it shatter on impact.

Josh pushed himself to his feet with shaky arms. He hummed in consideration – the plan had almost worked, but not quite. He needed to recalibrate the angles, but the failure did nothing but fuel the flames of his perseverance. He retrieved the remaining half of the thin drywall, flipping it one way, then the other, and finally comparing its length to that of his lower arm. A grimace twisted his lips as he waited for the fans to begin the next cycle. He wasn't going to like this – he vaguely recognized that this probably an extremely daft plan, but the rest of his brain overpowered the complaint with necessity. If this was the only to get this plan to work, then the science student was going to do it.

As if on cue, the whirling of the blades slowed, and the wind fell slack. Josh steadied his breath as well as his arm, which held out the board in the same fashion as the last run. However, this wasn't the same as the last run. The last run had been a trial, this would be the real deal; he couldn't afford to mess it up. He was painfully aware that there would be no more supplies that he could use, should this chunk of plaster miss its mark.

Whether his confidence was wavering or not, it didn't matter when the scream of machinery awoke, barreling into him seconds later. Josh immediately knew felt the difference in the experiments – this time, the plan worked masterfully. When the wall piece went flying, it bumped against the left side of the fan. The suction effect from the back side drew it in, rather the propulsion that would come from moving too far forward (such as in the first attempt).

Sadly, the extra distance needed to pull off this maneuver could not be provided by the board. Josh crashed into the heavy equipment, hardly causing it to stutter. The pull had been too strong; try as he might, the riptide had sucked him and flung him half way across the room. His head was ringing, vision blurring, and his arms couldn't quite remember how to follow directions. High pitched whining climbed to ear-splintering shriek.

Uh oh.

There, true to its time table, was the break. Even if his limbs weren't quite cooperative, his body had no choice than to follow when Josh threw his weight into a roll. Any doubts he might have had about the plaster being too weak was expelled as the chips lodged themselves into the motor, promptly causing it to explode.

His head wanted to burst, his legs and arms were equivalent to lead, and sharp shards of shrapnel nicked his side. Josh blinked his watering eyes open after what felt like an eternity crammed into a millisecond, slowing coming into focus on the scraps of metal strewn across the concrete. He forced himself to his knees, stomach flipping as he tried to relearn which way was up. His feet proved to be a whole new challenge, as he tottered back and forth drunkenly. Taking the key out of his pocket was completely unrelated to walking, his brain determined, and therefore it ruled that trying both of these things at once was much too strenuous. Stumbling to the adjacent side of the platform took all of the concentration he could muster, all but collapsing onto the edge.

That damn cat was yowling its head off, as far as Josh could tell. He could see its gaping mouth as it circled its cage, crouching close to him in concern before needing to pace once again. Huh, that's weird, Josh wrestled the key from the clutches of his clothes, I thought he would be louder, I can't hear him at all. Josh thought his heart might stop when his bumbling fingers dropped the key. He leaned as far over as he could, but his fingers didn't want to stretch, and his vision didn't want to see anything other than black.

The cat slipped its paw between the bars, batting the desired item into his hand. Josh couldn't quite comprehend gratitude in that particular moment, instead taking the time to fumble with the pad lock while his field of sight was continually encroached upon.

Was it getting hotter? It had to be – Josh was sure of that, at least. The beads of sweat dripping off and the blood roaring in his ears drowned out the faint click. When did his hands let go? Josh wasn't sure when that had happened; he was also unsure of whether the door was open or not, but he couldn't bring himself to care over the fuzzy, sweltering heat that over took his senses, with the aid of the comforting darkness.