Chapter 369: Redirection

Words : 1837 Updated : Oct 9th, 2025

The scan results replayed in my mind as I continued writing problems on the whiteboard, my hand moving automatically while my brain processed the implications of what I’d just discovered. -------- Name: Georgia Patterson Job: Educator (A-Rank) Skills: Curriculum Structuring (Lv. 7) - Enables efficient lesson planning across multiple age groups. Increases retention and engagement rates among students. Classroom Management (Lv. 6)- Enhances authority presence and influence radius. Reduces disruptive behavior and improves group cohesion. Multi-Tier Instruction (Lv. 5) - Allows simultaneous communication and instruction across different academic levels with minimal comprehension loss. Behavioral Insight (Lv. 4) - Grants instinctive understanding of student motivation and emotional state. Can predict behavioral shifts with moderate accuracy. Redirection (Lv. 6) - Converts hostile or disruptive energy—emotional or physical—into harmless instructional focus. -------- Most of her skills made perfect sense for someone teaching in a mixed-age rehabilitation environment. Curriculum Structuring at Level 7 explained how she could seamlessly manage lesson plans across multiple grade levels. Classroom Management at Level 6 would be essential for maintaining order among troubled students. Multi-Tier Instruction and Behavioral Insight were exactly the kinds of enhanced abilities you’d expect from someone specializing in challenging educational environments. But then there was that last skill. Redirection [Lv. 6] - Converts hostile or disruptive energy—emotional or physical—into harmless instructional focus. I’d never heard of a teaching skill like that. Sure, good teachers learned to redirect disruptive behavior into productive activities, but this was something entirely different. The description specifically mentioned converting "physical" energy, not just emotional or behavioral disruption. That suggested combat applications, the ability to redirect attacks or aggressive actions. It was the kind of skill an assassin might develop to blend into civilian environments while maintaining their lethal capabilities. Someone who could take a punch or a weapon strike and redirect that energy into something that looked like normal classroom management would be nearly impossible to identify through casual observation...but that’s crazy...how would something like that even work? Ms. Patterson wasn’t just a teacher - she was almost certainly one of the assassins Anthony had warned me about, operating under perfect cover as a legitimate faculty member. The question now was how long she’d been in position at Hudson Heights, and whether she was working alone or as part of the team that had been identified using the school as their base of operations. Her A-Rank status and the sophistication of her cover suggested this wasn’t a recent infiltration. She might have been planning this operation for months, building relationships with students and faculty while waiting for the right opportunity to strike. "Mr. Reynard?" A student’s voice broke through my analysis. "Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the board for like five minutes." I turned around to find thirty pairs of eyes focused on me with varying degrees of concern and curiosity. I’d been so absorbed in processing the scan results that I’d completely lost track of my surroundings. "Sorry about that," I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Just thinking through some additional problems for you all to work on." Derek looked up from his notebook, where he’d apparently finished not only the original equations but several increasingly complex variations of his own design. His expression suggested he wasn’t entirely buying my explanation, but he didn’t say anything. The remainder of the class period passed in a blur of mathematical assistance and careful observation of my surroundings. Every time a shadow passed by the classroom windows, every sound from the hallway, every movement in my peripheral vision had me on edge. Knowing that at least one confirmed assassin was somewhere in the building, possibly coordinating with others, made every moment feel potentially dangerous. When the dismissal bell rang, students began packing their materials with the efficient speed of people who’d done this routine hundreds of times. Derek was one of the last to finish, taking extra time to copy down some of the more complex equations I’d written for the advanced students. "Thanks for letting me join the class," he said quietly as he gathered his things. "It was actually interesting for once." "You’re welcome. You’ve got a real talent for mathematics." Derek shrugged, but I could see the compliment pleased him more than he wanted to admit. "Maybe. See you around." As the last students filed out of the classroom, I found myself alone with the pressing need to contact Milan and share what I’d discovered. The gym would be the most logical place to find him during his regular teaching duties, and it would provide a space where we could talk without being overheard by other faculty members. I locked the classroom door behind me and made my way through the hallways, trying to appear casual while my skills stayed alert for any signs of immediate danger. Students were moving between classes, teachers were heading toward the faculty lounge for lunch, and everything looked completely normal. Which, I now realized, was exactly how it was supposed to look. I was about halfway to the gymnasium when I spotted a group of faculty members gathered near the main entrance, apparently heading out for lunch. Ms. Patterson was among them, laughing at something one of her colleagues had said, looking exactly like the friendly, competent educator she appeared to be. "Oh, perfect timing!" called out Mr. Davis, the substitute math teacher I’d met that morning. "We were just heading to that little café down the street. Would you like to join us?" Ms. Patterson turned toward me with the same warm smile she’d worn when checking on my class earlier. "Please do come with us. It would be a great opportunity to get to know everyone better." Every instinct I possessed was screaming at me to decline as politely as possible and get away from the group. Being surrounded by potentially hostile faculty members in a location away from the school’s security systems seemed like an obviously bad tactical decision. At best all the agents outside apprehend them before they can do something and at worst I die. "That’s very kind of you," I replied, forcing my voice to remain casual and appreciative. "But I’m afraid I need to stay here and prepare some paperwork for tomorrow’s presentations." "Of course," Ms. Patterson said, her expression showing just the right amount of disappointment. "We’ll have to make sure you join us another time this week." "Definitely," I agreed, already taking a step backward toward the hallway I needed to reach the gym. The group continued toward the exit, their conversation resuming as if my presence had never been part of their lunch plans. I watched them go, using my skills to analyze their body language and vocal patterns for any signs that my refusal had aroused suspicion. Ms. Patterson glanced back once as they reached the door, offering a friendly wave that could have been completely innocent or could have been her way of confirming my location before leaving the building. I waved back and waited until they were completely out of sight before continuing toward the gymnasium. The hallways were quieter now, with most students in classes and faculty either teaching or at lunch. I made my way toward the athletic wing, my footsteps echoing slightly on the polished floors. My Instinct skill remained active, monitoring my surroundings for any indication that I was walking into a trap or being followed. I was almost to the gymnasium when I heard footsteps behind me moving at a pace that matched mine exactly. Someone was following me, staying precisely the right distance back to avoid detection by normal observation while maintaining visual contact. I turned a corner and after a few seconds, one of the teachers I’d met that morning appeared- Mr. Chen, I thought, though I wasn’t entirely certain of his name. "Oh, there you are," he said with apparent relief. "I was hoping to catch up with you." "Is something wrong?" I asked, stepping away from the wall and trying to look like someone who’d simply paused to check directions. "Not exactly wrong, but I wanted to warn you that you’re heading toward the gymnasium. That area is off-limits to visitors during lunch periods - insurance liability issues, you understand. The equipment isn’t supervised, and if someone got hurt..." He shrugged apologetically, as if the policy was out of his hands. "I had no idea," I replied, doing my best to look genuinely grateful for the information. "This campus is so large, I’m still figuring out the layout. Thank you for letting me know." "No problem at all. The faculty lounge would be a much better place to spend your lunch break, if you’re looking for somewhere comfortable to work on those papers you mentioned." "That’s a great suggestion. I’ll head there now." Mr. Chen smiled and continued down the hallway, apparently satisfied that he’d successfully redirected me away from the gymnasium. I waited until he was completely out of sight, then began walking in the opposite direction, my mind racing through the implications of what had just happened. Someone was definitely monitoring my movements around the school. The fact that Mr. Chen had appeared so quickly after I’d declined the lunch invitation suggested either remarkable coincidence or coordinated surveillance. Given what I now knew about Ms. Patterson, coincidence seemed unlikely. I needed to reach Milan, but doing so was clearly going to be more complicated than I’d anticipated. The direct approach had been blocked, and any further attempts to reach the gymnasium during lunch would probably result in additional "helpful" faculty members appearing to redirect me elsewhere. I was considering alternative approaches when I noticed Derek Mitchell leaning against a bank of lockers about fifty feet down the hallway. He appeared to be reading something, but as I got closer, I realized he was positioned in a way that gave him clear sight lines in multiple directions - exactly the kind of positioning someone would use if they were watching for authority figures while planning something they weren’t supposed to be doing. As I approached, Derek looked up from whatever he’d been reading and studied my face with the kind of analytical attention that reminded me uncomfortably of my own skills. "You want to sneak into the gym, don’t you?" he said quietly. I stopped walking, genuinely shocked by the accuracy of his observation. "How did you know that?" Derek closed whatever he’d been reading and tucked it into his backpack. "That’s not important right now. Do you want to get into the gym or not?" I looked around the hallway, confirming that we were alone and that no faculty members were within earshot. Derek’s intuitive intelligence was becoming clearer with every interaction, and right now, his offer might be exactly what I needed. "Yes," I said simply. Derek nodded as if he’d expected that answer, then gestured for me to follow him down a side corridor I hadn’t noticed before. "Come on then. I know a way."

Chapter 369: Redirection

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