“Took you long enough, peanut,” Chiang-sensei said. “We need to talk.”

“Why are you here?” Hudson asked. “And what do you want?”

“A little slow on the uptake. Scrawny, too. And why are you so hunched over?” Chiang-sensei paused. “Invite me in, kid, or do you want to chat in the hallway with your neighbors?”

Hudson didn’t know why this person was here, or how she even knew where his apartment was, nor did he really care. He turned away from the door and shuffled over to his small couch and sat down. Max hopped into his lap and started purring.

Chiang-sensei closed the door behind her, took off her shoes and went past Hudson into hisk kitchen. She came back with a glass of water and a chair.

“Drink up. You may not realize it, but you need to hydrate.” She flipped the chair around backwards and sat down across from Hudson on the couch.

Hudson took the glass and held it to his lips. He took a tentative first sip, but then realized that he was actually very thirsty, and gulped almost the whole glass down.

“So I’m not sure what you got into with the police, exactly, but that doesn’t really matter. I can smell the ichor on you, which means you were at least partially successful.”

“Successful at what?” Hudson asked, as he turned his head slightly and sniffed himself.

“Taking the first step in breaking the chains of mortality,” Chiang-sensei answered with a smirk.

“Huh?”

“Okay, sooo… we don’t really have time for twenty questions. I’m going to tell you a few things, but first, and this is important: we didn’t have this conversation. You didn’t see me at your karate dojo. You saw someone perform a breathing exercise that sounded like a fire engine, you like fire engines, and you tried to copy it. But the person you saw wasn’t me. The next time you meet me, it will be for the first time, ok?”

“Huh?”

“I know things are very confusing,” Chiang-sensei said as she leaned in and took the now-empty glass out of Hudson’s hand. “And they are about to get even more confusing. But I need you to gather whatever brain cells are knocking about upstairs and remember what I’m about to tell you. Ok?”

Chiang-sensei waited as Hudson struggled to process what he was hearing.

“This is when you say ‘ok.’”

“Ok.”

“Second. The breathing technique you are using – I won’t tell you its name yet – is a powerful one. You must, absolutely must, continue using this technique and no other. And you must do so every minute, second, and hour that you possibly can. It must become second nature.”

Chiang-sensei stared pointedly at Hudson.

“Ok,” he said. His head was muddled with the events of the day and everything this woman was telling him. It was really difficult to keep straight, and the room was starting to spin.

“And third: trust no one. That sedative I put in your water should be taking effect in three… two…one…”

Hudson’s head slumped forward as he lost consciousness and everything faded to black.

“I still got it,” Chiang-sensei muttered as she casually threw Hudson over one shoulder and picked up Max with the other hand.

…..

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Hudson woke up gradually to a rhythmic thumping sound. It felt like he was moving up and down slightly. He'd had a horrible dream. He'd lost control of his temper, completely destroyed his boss's office, been questioned by the police and then kidnapped by a green-haired karate master.

He opened his eyes and saw that he was on a bus. Flat benches, school-bus style. It was completely dark outside the windows, and impossible to tell where he was or how fast they were driving. The only light came from two thin, dim strips of illumination running down the center aisle. Every time there was a rhythmic thump the bus rose up a little bit, like it was traveling over a bump in the road.

He let out a big sigh. It hadn't been a nightmare, it'd been real. Trust no one, indeed.

He sat up into a more comfortable position and discovered something else. He was handcuffed and chained to the seat. The handcuffs clanked and rattled as he shifted around. Maybe they'd skipped the judge and trial and just sent him directly to prison.

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“He..hello?” Hudson called out softly. “Helllo–”

He was interrupted by a quick “Psst. Quiet!”

It was very dark on the bus and difficult to see, but Hudson looked around for the other voice. Across the aisle from him was a human-shaped figure slightly darker than its surroundings. It leaned closer, and Hudson scooted over as far as he could as well.

A disheveled mop of brown hair came into view, sitting on top of a pale face. The man (or boy – he appeared very young) was holding a finger up to his lips.

“Don't attract their attention. They spray some kind of mist from the back of the seat, and it makes you pass out again.”

Hudson nodded his understanding.

“What is this? Where are we going? Do you know?” Hudson whispered quietly.

“I don't know either. I was going to ask you the same.”

“My name’s Hudson. Nice to meet you, although I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“I'm Vince. We should probably try to stay quiet.”

Hudson agreed. If there was anything worse than being chained up on a bus going who-knows-where in the middle of the night, it was being knocked out and unconscious on a bus ride into the night.

Hudson sat up straight as he could and tried to follow Chiang-sensei's advice. Even if she had drugged him and thrown him on this bus, Hudson had never felt like she meant him harm. She had known about the breathing method he had copied from her – and a lot more, it would seem. And while she hadn't told him much, she had given him some advice.

It wasn't much, but it was all Hudson had to go on.

Hudson breathed in and started up the breathing method that had caused him so much trouble in the last twenty-four hours. Come to think of it, he should give this breathing method a name. At least a name other than “breathing-method-I-stole-from-Chiang-sensei.”

I think I'll call it the Engine Breath, Hudson thought to himself. The rhythmic, explosive nature seemed to fit the tight cycles of a well-oiled engine.

Hudson focused on the Engine Breath. The monotony of the bus ride faded into the background as he meditated. A few small streaks of stinky black ichor seeped out of the pores of his skin, especially around his chest and back.

A few hours later, his meditation and breathing were interrupted as the bus came to a slow stop. A sharp light came on, outside of the bus. Hudson squinted out of the window and could see they were parked on the inside of a very large building – almost the size of an airplane hangar. The walls were all white, except for a single sign with four capital letters, spelling the word “S.E.C.T.”

A loud robotic voice echoed through the open space of the hangar and into the bus.

“Welcome to the trial grounds for the Society for Exploring Cultivation Techniques, or S.E.C.T. You are here to be judged. May you be found worthy, and not wanting.

“I am your judge. You may refer to me as Ix, or the Director, or Director Ix.”

Hudson squinted out of the window as he listened to the Director. The vehicle they had arrived in wasn't exactly a bus. There was no driver, for one, and the design was much closer to a train, or a subway car. There were tracks leading back outside of the hanger.

“You are participants in the S.E.C.T.’s First Trial. I will now explain the rules for your trial,” Ix's robotic voice continued.

“Rule #1: You must survive.”

“Rule #2: You must follow all instructions of the Director promptly and without fail.”

“Rule #3: You must not purposefully harm or obstruct another participant in the trial, outside of sanctioned Challenges.”

Hudson was already upset from losing his job and worried about being kidnapped. When he heard the first rule, “you must survive,” his anxiety increased sharply. His heart thundered in his ears, he lost control of his breathing, and he barely heard the next two rules.

If there is a rule “to survive” he thought to himself, then this trial is going to be dangerous. Maybe even lethal. What has Chiang-sensei gotten me into?

Hudson was having very strong regrets about copying the Engine Breath technique. Beside him, Vince raised his hand, like he wanted to ask a question in school.

“At this time, asking questions is permitted. Participant Vince Delacroix, you may ask your question.”

“Um,” Vince swallowed nervously. “Where are we?”

“You are within the entry hanger of the S.E.C.T. trial grounds,” the Director replied. A teenager at the back of the bus-train raised their hand. “Participant Doug Ellis, you may ask your question.”

“When can I go home? Who do you think you are, kidnapping me?! Do you not know who my father is?” a frantic voice from the back of the bus-train asked.

“You may not go home.” The Director paused slightly. “Only one question was permitted. Participant Doug Ellis, you have failed to follow specific directions and have violated the Second Rule.”

A high-pitched whine began building at the back of the bus-train, where Doug was seated.

“Violation: minor. Corrective action: tier 1. Participant Doug Ellis, for a tier 1 corrective action you must choose one of the following: no sleep for 24 hours, no food for 24 hours, or solitary confinement for 24 hours.”

“Are you listening to me? I'm not supposed to be here. Get me out of here right now!” Doug was sobbing at this point. The high-pitched whine continued to grow louder and louder.

“Participant has failed to choose corrective action. All corrective action options will be implemented.”

The high-pitch whine cracked suddenly. A deep thump rumbled through the bus-train, and Doug was gone. More accurately, a black hole in space wrapped around Doug, and when it disappeared, Doug, the bench he was sitting on, and the chains holding him in place were all gone.

Hudson had raised his hand to ask a question, but now lowered it in growing horror. Just like that, the teenager was gone; teleported away to endure punishments simply for not following directions exactly. Against an unseen captor with those types of powers, how could Hudson do anything to resist? Why even bother asking questions?