Hurricane // Danger Days (Book 2)

22.

It had now been two months since Hurricane Lightning's initiation into the Riot. He had risen to the position of Grenade Shock's right hand man, and had helped the army on many missions. He now had access to the whole of Better Living Industries' database, and could get to it within a couple of clicks.

And Silent Storm felt trapped. He felt as though he was becoming Hurricane, in a way. It became easier and easier for him to get into his arrogant, cocky, tech genius character, and harder to remember that he was in fact on the opposite side of this war.

He had become very close with Grenade over that time. He could tell that she had begun thinking of him as her friend, maybe even her best friend. And to be totally honest, he found himself feeling this way as well. Aside from her wanting to murder his actual best friend and wanting the whole of Battery City to die, she was actually a cool person. He hated to admit that.

He had also had the experience of watching Grenade's younger brother, Toxic Revenge, in action. He was the mechanic of the higher-ups, and the kid was a genius. He could build a bomb in five minutes, a missile in half an hour, and a brand new class of weapon in a day. And he was only ten years old. Storm had a conversation with him about Analog weapons, and that instantly became a friendship. They regularly geeked out about whatever new weapon Revenge was making, and he often asked Storm to help him program them, even though he didn't need it.

One day, Storm sat in his room, fiddling with his flip phone. He had been moved to a bigger room, which had a lot more windows and a comfier bed—an actual bed—than his previous one. He had a desktop computer of his own, which Revenge had helped him build. In his phone, he now had the numbers of over a hundred people, and could communicate with any of them in the push of a button. The phones were very different from the simple, walkie-talkie-like communicators the Killjoys used.

He was beginning to worry about becoming Hurricane. He knew if that happened, it would take a really long time to go back to the way he was. There was a short-term solution, however. He dug around in a drawer of the nightstand by his bed, found his old communicator, and called Alien.

She picked up very quickly. "Stormy! How ya doing?"

"Al, it is so good to hear your voice right now," he said truthfully.

"Wait, what do you mean? Are you okay?"

He took a deep breath. "So, you know how I invented this character to pretend to be while I'm here? I would just be myself in private, and be Hurricane in public. But here's the thing. I think the line is starting to blur. It's getting harder and harder to get back out of character. I can't tell what's Hurricane and what's me anymore."

There was a pause. "Well first of all, you need to call me more! Second, you need to come back here. Has there been anything that they're planning? Anything at all?"

"Nothing in particular," he said. "But Grenade keeps pushing me to get into their database and find out what their building's weakness is. So far, I haven't been able to, but even if I do, I won't tell them. But if it happens in front of her... Al, we'll be—"

"We're screwed." She sighed. "If anything happens, anything at all, report to me. Got that?"

But Storm didn't reply. Because Toxic Revenge stood in the doorway with a shocked look on his face. He had heard every word.

"Cane," he said softly, "who was that? Why were you talking about Ren?"

"Hey, kiddo," Storm said, trying to cover his tracks. "I can explain—"