by Mark Walden
‘If you go down, I’m sure it will be after me.’ Otto swallowed hard, suddenly frightened. Fear was something he didn’t feel often, and he hated it – it made him feel weak and confused.
Wing took a single step towards the two brutes, stopping them short. He had adopted a fighting stance, and doubt briefly flickered across the two henchmen’s faces.
Wing spoke, his voice calm and clear. ‘There are twenty-three ways of combatting an assailant armed with a blunt object from this position. Four of them will kill you, twelve of them will permanently disable you and the remaining seven will cause injuries that, while being extremely painful, you will at least recover from. In all of them I take that pipe from you and use it on you. The choice is yours.’
Suddenly the looks of smug confidence vanished from Block and Tackle’s faces. Block looked nervously at his companion, his voice uncertain.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ He turned away from Wing, as if to retreat back up the corridor. Then, with a murderous roar, he spun back towards Wing, swinging the pipe in a vicious arc straight at his head.
Wing moved blindingly fast, his hand snapping up and catching the pipe with a loud slapping noise, catching Block off balance. He stepped in towards the hulking boy and twisted the pipe neatly from his hand, spinning it in his own hand and planting a swift blow to his attacker’s stomach. Block doubled up, clutching his belly, all of the wind knocked from him. Seeing this, Tackle let out a roar and swung a clenched fist the size of a melon straight at Wing’s face. Wing deflected the blow upwards, throwing Tackle off balance, and planted a vicious jab with his other hand right into Tackle’s armpit, causing the larger boy to bellow in pain. The two assailants backed off a couple of yards as Wing threw the pipe away over his shoulder and returned calmly to the same stance he had adopted bare seconds before. Tackle’s arm hung limp at his side, apparently disabled by Wing’s punch, and Block stood gasping, still trying to catch his breath.
‘Think . . . you’re pretty . . . tough, do ya?’ Block managed to gasp out between strained breaths, glaring malevolently at Wing.
‘No, but I think you are clumsy and slow,’ Wing replied, his voice calm. It was an observation more than a taunt.
‘You’ll be clumsy too when I’ve broken all your fingers,’ Tackle growled, circling round to Wing’s left. Block moved in the opposite direction, apparently attempting to surround Wing. Otto quietly picked the pipe up from the floor nearby where Wing had discarded it. Suddenly, both the henchman students charged Wing at once. Wing sprang into the air, his foot catching the stampeding Block neatly under the chin, snapping the thug’s head back and sending him collapsing backwards on to the floor. Tackle made a grab for Wing as his companion collapsed, but Wing ducked and planted a jab identical to the first – this time, though, into Tackle’s other armpit. Again the larger boy howled in pain, backing away rapidly. Wing advanced on Tackle, who seemed to still be struggling to get his arms to respond to basic commands.
‘Stop this, I do not want to hurt you more seriously,’ Wing said calmly as he walked towards the retreating Tackle.
‘Yeah? Well, I do want to hurt you more seriously,’ Tackle replied and reached into his overalls, pulling out a vicious-looking knife.
‘Wing! Catch!’ Otto shouted and threw the pipe to his friend. It spun end over end through the air and Wing turned at the last moment to catch it . . . with his forehead. He grunted and fell to the floor, out cold. Otto’s eyes widened in horror. What had he done?
The momentary look of surprise on Tackle’s face was replaced with an evil grin. He looked down at the unconscious form of Wing.
‘I’ll be back for you in a second, karate kid,’ he looked up at Otto, ‘but you’re first, Whitey.’
Otto looked desperately around the hallway for something to defend himself with as Tackle approached. Block too had risen to his feet and picked up the pipe that lay next to Wing, joining Tackle as they advanced down the corridor towards Otto.
‘Gonna leave you a greasy spot on the floor, Maggot,’ Block growled as he approached. Otto had nowhere to run.
Well, I’m going to go out fighting, Otto thought to himself, adopting the same fighting stance that Wing had used a few seconds earlier. He hoped desperately that Tackle and Block might not realise that he didn’t have the first clue how to defend himself in the same way Wing had.
Suddenly Block and Tackle’s eyes widened in terror. Block dropped the pipe to the floor with a clatter and backed away, hand raised defensively before him.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me, oh God!’ Block squealed pathetically. He turned and fled back up the corridor.
‘We were only messing around, we weren’t really gonna hurt anyone,’ Tackle squeaked, dropping the knife and racing down the corridor in pursuit of his friend. Otto was astonished. Had he really presented that fierce a challenge?
What Otto had not seen as the two henchmen approached him was the black-clad figure that unfolded itself from the shadows in the roof of the corridor and dropped soundlessly to the floor behind him. With one hand it pulled one of the katanas it wore strapped to its back just slightly out of the sheath, the blade glinting in the lights of the corridor. The other hand it raised towards Block and Tackle, wagging its finger ‘no’. Their reaction to seeing Raven, the most feared assassin in the school, apparently personally protecting Otto, was entirely predictable. Otto, on the other hand, had absolutely no idea she had even been there as she vanished back into the shadows as quickly and silently as she had appeared.
Otto ran over to where Wing was lying, relieved to see as he got closer that he was coming round, shaking his head as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.
‘Are you OK?’ Otto asked urgently.
‘I’ll live.’ Wing looked up the corridor just in time to see the fleeing figures of Block and Tackle round a bend in the corridor and disappear from view. He clasped a hand to his forehead, wincing.
‘I’m so sorry, Wing. Are you sure you’re OK?’ Otto felt terrible about hurting him.
‘It’s OK, Otto. You were trying to help.’ Wing smiled at him. ‘Besides, I’ve survived much worse, believe me. What did you do to those two?’ Wing jerked his thumb towards the corridor that Block and Tackle had fled along.
Otto helped Wing to his feet and gave him a puzzled smile. ‘You know what? I haven’t the faintest idea.’
Otto felt suitably guilty as he accompanied Wing to the infirmary to have the bump on his head checked. Wing repeatedly insisted that he was fine and that he didn’t need to be looked over by the doctor but Otto insisted. The doctor greeted their explanation that Wing had tripped over and hit his head on a desk with predictable cynicism, but thankfully didn’t press them for more details of how the injury had been sustained and assured Wing that he would be fine barring a slight headache.
After leaving the infirmary they headed back to the accommodation block, where they found Shelby and Laura talking on one of the sofas in the atrium.
‘Where have you two been? We were starting to get worried,’ Laura asked.
Otto explained about their impromptu rendezvous with Block and Tackle, and the girls’ initial sympathy for the injured Wing was soon replaced by taunting Otto about the ‘help’ he had offered during the fight.
‘So, let me get this straight,’ Shelby said, grinning, ‘Wing has basically subdued both of them and then you make your first contribution to the battle by knocking him unconscious.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Otto mumbled, feeling about three inches tall.
‘Otto’s assistance was welcome, if somewhat misdirected,’ Wing replied with a wry smile on his face.
‘I’ll have to remember that for the future. When in a life or death battle, be sure to club unconscious everyone on your side as early on in the fight as possible,’ Laura laughed.
‘Yeah, especially if they’re all that stands between you and the beating of a lifetime.’ Shelby was enjoying Otto’s di
scomfort a great deal apparently.
‘I still do not understand why they fled,’ Wing replied, looking thoughtful.
‘Otto must have really frightened them,’ Laura said. She managed to keep a straight face for at least two seconds before she and Shelby burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter.
This is going to be a long evening, Otto thought to himself. He had to admit it was odd, though. He still wasn’t sure himself what it was that he’d done to make them run away. He knew though that seeking the pair of them out and asking them what it was that had scared them so much would not be a particularly good idea right now.
‘Whatever it was that caused them to flee I am glad that they did. The whole situation might have been resolved somewhat more unpleasantly if they had not. I do not believe they wanted to leave us with just a few bruises – they had murder in their eyes.’ Wing seemed suddenly serious. Otto knew what he meant – the most frightening thing about the fight had been the look on Block and Tackle’s faces as they had advanced towards him after Wing had gone down. He had felt with a dread certainty that they were going to seriously hurt, perhaps even kill him. He would not underestimate their capacity for violence in future.
When she and Laura had finally stopped laughing Shelby looked over at Wing with concern, her voice low as she spoke.
‘So are you going to be OK for tonight?’ She asked.
‘I’ll be fine,’ he grinned again, ‘though I strongly recommend not turning your back on Otto at any point.’
A very long evening indeed, thought Otto.
Nigel was worried. Violet was growing much more quickly than he had anticipated and she was becoming rather hard to handle. The last time he’d fed her she’d bitten his finger and drawn blood. It wasn’t so much the minor injury that bothered him, but the way she had been driven frantic by the tiny taste she’d received of the dark crimson liquid. It was at that point he’d decided the pipe that would feed her regular doses of a growth-inhibiting agent, which he’d smuggled out of Ms Gonzales’s lab, needed to be placed near her roots. That should at least ensure that she would not grow any more for now. He’d have to address what he was going to do about her violent tendencies tomorrow, though he wasn’t entirely sure how one controlled aggression in plants. He might, he realised, have to ask Ms Gonzales for help after all.
He held a cockroach out to Violet, clasped in the jaws of a long pair of forceps. The plant didn’t seem at all interested in the bug she was being offered. Instead, the long tendrils curled up the forceps towards his hand in a most unsettling way. He pulled the forceps from the tendrils, trying carefully not to snap any of them. Their grip was surprisingly strong. The cockroach lay near Violet’s base, ignored and untouched. If she was off her food as well, Nigel feared that there might be something seriously wrong with her. He sat staring into the tank, an anxious expression on his face.
‘What am I going to do with you?’ he sighed, placing his hand on the glass.
Otto sat on his bed reading a biography of Diabolus Darkdoom that he had borrowed from the school library. Nigel’s father had led an eventful life, each scheme that he planned more daring and audacious than the last. Otto had just reached the section that dealt with Darkdoom’s plan to steal the Eiffel Tower when Wing walked out of the bathroom wearing just his boxer shorts and a vest. It was not the first time that Otto had seen the array of scars that seemed to cover Wing’s body, but he had still not plucked up the courage to ask Wing how he had ended up so marked. He supposed that Wing would tell him himself when he felt the time was right. He also noted that Wing was still wearing the small amulet on a chain around his neck that, as far as Otto knew, he never took off. The amulet was in the shape of a white comma with a tiny black circle in the centre of its head. Otto had resisted the urge to ask about this object too, but now, as they prepared to leave the school, he realised that he may not get the opportunity again. Wing looked up and noticed the curious expression on Otto’s face.
‘Is there something you want to know, Otto?’ he asked, sitting down on his own bed.
‘Yes . . . I don’t mean to pry, so feel free to tell me to mind my own business if you like, but I was wondering what that was.’ Otto pointed at the symbol resting on Wing’s chest.
‘This?’ Wing took hold of the amulet.
‘Yes, but I’m just being nosy, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ Otto replied, hoping that Wing would tell him anyway.
Wing looked suddenly sad, staring at the symbol resting in his palm.
‘It belonged to my mother,’ he began, his voice quiet. ‘She gave it to me just before she died. This is yang, it is one half of the symbol that represents yin and yang. It also represents everything that my mother believed in, that there are two opposing forces which are always active in the universe. Yin exists in yang and yang exists in yin. They symbolise the changing combination of positive and negative, light and dark, good and evil which keeps the world spinning and creates chi – the life-giving force. When she gave it to me she told me that the dark spot at the centre of yang’s whiteness should remind me that the seed of evil always lies within the heart of goodness, and that conversely yin shows that even the blackest, most evil soul has within it the potential for good.’ He fell silent, staring at the amulet in his hand.
‘I’m sorry, Wing, I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories for you. I didn’t realise it belonged to your mum.’ Otto felt awful. In the space of a couple of hours he’d managed to inflict physical and now emotional pain on his best friend.
‘You do not need to apologise. My memories of my mother are happy ones. I miss her, of course, but somehow I feel that she still watches over me.’ Wing smiled at Otto.
‘What about the other half of the amulet?’ Otto asked. ‘Has your father got it?’
‘No, the other half was lost. I should like very much to find it one day, it would resolve many unanswered questions.’ Otto noticed a sudden cold, hard look in Wing’s eyes and decided it would be best to not press the matter any further.
‘Well, once you’re dressed we need to do a final equipment check,’ Otto said. ‘We need to get out of here before our yangs turn into yins.’ He was relieved to see Wing smile at this and tuck the amulet back inside his vest.
.
Chapter Twelve
Otto checked his watch again for what must have been the twentieth time in the last ten minutes. Five minutes to go – he’d better wake up Wing. He walked over to him and gently shook his shoulder, ‘Wing, wake up. It’s nearly time.’
Wing opened his eyes and did his usual slightly unnerving trick of going from an apparently deep sleep to fully awake and alert in a split second.
‘Good, is everything ready?’ Wing asked.
‘Yes, we’re good to go. We’d better get in position.’ Otto swung his backpack on to his back – it wasn’t too heavy since Wing had insisted on carrying the bulkiest piece of equipment.
‘I hope Shelby and Laura are ready.’ Wing looked worried.
‘Don’t worry. I’m fairly sure you’re the only one of the four of us who got any sleep tonight,’ Otto replied, smiling. He’d be very surprised if the two girls hadn’t been doing exactly the same thing as Otto, pacing around their room willing the second hands on their watches to sweep round the dial just a little more quickly.
Wing nodded and walked over to the wardrobe on his side of the room. Otto followed suit, opening the door of his own wardrobe. The cramped space was empty, since Otto was wearing the uniform that would normally be hanging there.
‘You are sure about this, aren’t you?’ Wing asked, eyeing his own empty wardrobe with suspicion.
‘If I’m wrong this will be the shortest and least impressive escape attempt in human history,’ Otto replied with a weak smile. ‘Come on, two minutes to go. Get in.’
Wing looked around their room one last time and stepped into the wardrobe, having to duck slightly to fit into the cramped space. Otto stepped into his own wardrobe
and turned to face into the room.
‘See you on the other side,’ Otto said with what he hoped was a note of confidence.
‘Good luck,’ Wing replied and closed the door of his own wardrobe.
Otto pulled his wardrobe door shut, plunging the small space into darkness. For the past few weeks he had lain awake in bed in the early hours of the morning, straining to hear any sound coming from their apparently magical wardrobes. Eventually he’d heard it, at two o’clock in the morning, a click and a whirring sound from both wardrobes, almost inaudible but, it soon became apparent, regular as clockwork. He had even sat by the wardrobe one night and tried to pull it open as soon as he heard the noise, but the door had refused to budge. Once he heard a second tiny clicking sound he’d managed to pull the door open again and had found a clean uniform hanging there, just as he did every morning. Something happened in the wardrobe during those few seconds that the doors were locked and Otto knew that it could be their key to getting out of their rooms undetected.
Now as he stood in the small, dark space he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a mistake. The blueprints he’d seen of H.I.V.E. on Professor Pike’s desk hadn’t covered the accommodation blocks, so there was no way of knowing exactly what would happen next. When he had first explained this stage of the plan to his three coconspirators they had looked at him, perhaps understandably, as if he was mad. Laura had listened carefully to his proposal and declared that it sounded like a good plan, but only if they intended to escape H.I.V.E. via Narnia. Otto had assured her that his plan didn’t involve any trips to snowy forests populated by overfriendly fawns, and besides he didn’t even like Turkish Delight. All joking aside, this was probably going to be something of a magical mystery tour for all of them. Otto knew there had to be less then a minute to go until they’d know for sure. His breathing sounded awfully loud in the confined space, and it seemed to him that time was passing very slowly indeed. Just as he had convinced himself that this wasn’t going to work and that they’d fallen at the first hurdle, there was a soft click in the darkness.
