<br/>James woke up with a flurry of coughs, violently ejecting the dust from his lungs. He felt the cold, hard ground beneath him, and shuddered.<em>Wait, cold hard ground</em>he thought, remembering now that the last thing he remembered was returning to the guest bedroom at Yong’s place. Yong was his mentor, and they had developed a good friendship over the course of many business negotiations.<br/><br/>His deep auburn eyes opened with a rush, and his heart beat sped up so fast he thought it might pound a hole through his chest. He saw only blackness at first, then the fuzzy outline of two walls, which then cleared into the image of solid stone stretching on either side of him. Before he could adjust to what he saw before him, he heard the voice in his head. He breathed in heavily, his mind fighting to stifle the panic in his heart, panic that became fueled by confusion.<br/><br/><em>What sort of prank is this? Where am I?</em>As James looked around, he finally glanced up, noting the expanse of white rock above him, dwarfed by the open sky above that. The effect was dizzying, causing him to lean up against one of the large stone walls for support. This couldn’t be real…It was like something out of a movie, or from a story…a myth. This sort of thing just didn’t happen. Unfortunately, it was much too real to be a dream. He could feel the cool air on his skin, the dust clinging to his disheveled hair. He felt the rapidness of his own heart, and the very true fear that seemed to rise from his heart and stick in his throat like a rock.<br/><br/><em>Master Adrian Mizuho</em>, he formed the image of what the name would look like in his head. He knew he had never heard it before, but decided to commit that name to his memory. The voice had been too vivid, too clear to be from his own mind. Well, unless he was hallucinating. James didn’t have a known record of hallucinations, so he operated under the assumption that what was happening was very real. As the more logical part of his brain took over, his heart beat began slowing. He had to focus. Panicking would only get him killed. He looked himself over. There were no signs of injury. His clothing was the same as the last moment he remembered…a crimson shirt, made of a suede-esque material with buttons running up along the center of the front, a pair of dress slacks, and matching dress shoes. Despite his attire, it had been fit for some looseness on his frame. He was not a man to sacrifice perfect looks for comfort. He cursed himself for not having his weapons on him. There had been no reason to, he was in the comfort of one of the largest suites in China, surrounded by body guards as a honored guest. Apparently, not even Yong’s hand could offer protection from everything. James sighed, and picked a direction. Not even knowing which direction was which, he decided to head the way he was facing at the time. If this was truly a maze, there would be a way out, somewhere.<br/>