The Inventor

Chapter One; "Genius in the making"

One year and eleven months prior

     Minho pounded on the walls of the box, the dark enclosed space making him break out in a sweat. He remembered everything, everything in the world. But not one stupid thing about himself or where the heck this box had been taking him for the last hour.

"Hey!" He screamed, "Can anybody hear me?! I'm down here!"

He banged on the ceiling next, listening to it bang like a gong. He didn't let up until he heard someone banging back in response. He stopped and listened.

There were people up there, no doubt about it because he could hear laughing and amused voices but no effort was made to let him out.

"Hey!" He yelled again, "I know you're up there! Do you not speak english or are you just stupid?! Let me out!"

There was a series of laughs and sound whistling at what he said. He got passing phrases like, "What a snark mouth on this one", "Aw, the poor shank wants out?", "Got a lively one!".

He was just about to continue shouting when the voices cut off with a sharp commanding one and the scuttling of feet came from over his head until the roof above him separated in two, blinding him briefly with unexpected bright light.

Blinking furiously to see where he came to, the voices surrounding him didn't shut up. From just their voices he could tell at least the majority were boys and he willed his vision to come into focus faster.

When it finally did the first thing he saw was you.

Your head tilted as you talked to a blonde boy over your shoulder, the shirt you wore with it's rolled up sleeves because it was a size too big for you. The coat of grime and soot on your face, add that with the black oil stained cloth that stuck out from your pocket he could tell you didn't spend your day doing nothing.

You glanced at him and shot him a grin. It wasn't comforting, nor amused. It was just a natural grin.

"Bring him up!" Somebody commanded and ropes were sent down for him to haul himself up with.

He grasped onto the first one he could get to, clambering up it despite his sweaty palms. Many hands were extended to him to help him to his feet but he grasped yours, your grip firm and skin rough from working. People clapped him on the back, poked fun at him and elbowed him lightly but you kept a steady hold on his hand through their jostling.

"Alright, alright! Back to work unless all of you want Nick on your backs!" Someone yelled. No one argued, just shouted remarks at him as they walked off back to... wherever in the heck they came from because he had no idea what this place was.

Everything was guarded by tall stone walls, there were huts and buildings and farms and a forest. It was huge and overwhelming because he instantly tried to memorize all of it. Out of all the useless knowledge he still had none of it covered any of this.

In the midst of this he didn't realize you had been asking him a question until you pulled your hand from his and he looked down at his own hand with a frown.

"What?" He asked.

"I asked you how the ride to hell was?" You repeated.