"Trace! Wake up!" Hailey pinched the boy's elbow playfully and he flinched awake, growling when he saw the girl's freckled face. And then he knew something was wrong.

"Why aren't you in your own dorm room?" Trace asked carefully. Identities were kept discreet, so why was Hailey so blatantly revealed to him?

"Silly boy," the girl giggled, hopping down from the bunk bed's ladder.

Trace rubbed the sleep from his eyes and leaned over the side of his bed, gasping at the sight of his group members. Why were they all gathered here?

"This is the WP7 dorm room," Hailey laughed. "You passed your examination!"

"Examination?" Trace asked. His head hurt, like it was hit with a boulder and then a package of ice.

"Yeah. Your first mission is called your examination, Trace," Hailey helped him to remember. Was he told this already and just didn't realize it?

Dereck, the brown-eyed, black-haired rebel, squinted at Trace. "Do you remember any of your report?"

Trace sat in a daze for a moment, his mouth slightly open. Hailey snapped her fingers and he blinked into focus. "Uh, what?" He hopped down the ladder and thudded on the ground, steadying himself carefully.

"Do you remember reporting our mission?" Hailey reworded, glancing at her boyfriend and then back at Trace.

"...No?" Trace felt his head pound just thinking about the previous night. Just what had happened? He remembered three people working on his Modifier... Was that useful information?

"Nothing at all?" Dereck grumbled.

"Well, just that there were three people, and they were talking... I forgot what the topic of their conversation was, but they were touching my neck and fixing my Modifier," Trace recalled, wincing at the pain thudding in his head. "That's all."

His Modifier ticked in his head with a message in his robotic voice. Congratulations, Trace! You've officially made it into Phantom's association! Please meet in the breakfast hall with your group members from squad WP7 for orientation.

His Modifier pushed itself in, most likely a new establishment by Phantom, and he floated up along with his group members.

"From now on, Trace, you'll have to fight harder against Phantom. Remember: Phantom is the bad guy. Not you." Trace didn't know who said this. The voice was blurred.

His Modifier bit back. Phantom is your provider. Don't betray Phantom.

The breakfast hall melted in around them. Assassins dressed in different cloak colors mingled with each other.

Trace reached behind his neck and tried to pull his Modifier out, slightly, but the button-shaped knob was now flat, and immovable. His heart almost stopped.

"Trace," Hailey whispered sharply. "Did you not just hear me tell you that you had to fight harder against Phantom? It's no longer a battle for your body. Now it's a battle for your mind."

"So I can't just turn off my allegiance when I want to anymore?" Trace gasped, massaging his neck. He could barely feel the small disc on his neck, because it was his skin's temperature and smoothness.

Hailey shook her head. "Nope, not anymore."

"So, orientation?" Trace spoke up from his whisper and smiled slightly.

"Oh, right," Hailey laughed nervously. "That's a private group thing, not a big ceremonial crash. So, we'll all congratulate you here and on our next mission, which begins in-" she checked her watch"-about a half an hour, we'll give you the materials you need to work with us."

"Okay," Trace agreed, seating himself in a chair. The others sat around him.

"Hi Trace, I'm Shallomar! Congratulations on your achievement and welcome to WP7!" The youngest girl stretched her short arm across the table to shake Trace's hand. He took and shook it.

"Thanks," Trace granted with a smile.

"I'm Dereck. Welcome to WP7," the black-haired guy spat, slinking his arm over Hailey's shoulders.

The middle-aged man stuck his hand on and shook Trace's hand. "Congratulations, Trace. I'm Peter. Welcome to WP7."

Trace nodded.

A younger boy, maybe twelve, stuck his hand out for a shake. "Welcome, Trace. I'm Isaac."

"Cool," Trace nodded, immediately regretting his idiotic word.

Hailey laughed. "So you must have a few questions. Try us."

A question immediately wiggled its way into Trace's mind but it was so lame that he was afraid to ask it. "It's kind of ridiculous, but why do we wear hoods?" He pointed up at his pointed hood that hung in the center of his face, blocking his identity.

"That wasn't ridiculous, because we all wonder that at one point," Hailey compensated. "We wear hoods to hide our identity from victims and bystanders, but we also wear them because they are equipped with killing equipment."

"Like what?" Trace's tongue slipped.

"Night vision, scan feature," Hailey have a few examples, "and also the silhouette design that allows us to only see our victims as dark shadows. This helps, because it makes us feel less attached to the victim we're assigned to kill."

Trace nodded in understanding. Of course, how idiotic could his questions be?

Here came another: "Has an assassin ever been killed by a victim?"

"Only if they are from a different assassin clan, or if they have a weapon on them liable to kill one of us," Dereck explained. A smile found its way onto his lips. "Which, only a newbie like yourself would get caught in a situation like that, Trace."

Trace rolled his eyes and stared at Hailey through his hood. He admired her dark red eyes, and found himself drifting to all of his comrade's eyes. All red, and all deadly, for sure.

"I have one more," Trace bit his lip and took in a deep breath. Would they answer this question? "Why are your eyes red?"

Hailey stared at Trace, and the group was silent, waiting for someone to answer.

"Ah-" Hailey started, crossing her legs. "I honestly don't know. All of the groups have a different eye color. Maybe it's for our ranking? For our individuality? For our counted days until death? Who knows?"

Trace set his jaw. "Do they assign you a day to die?"

Hailey nodded slowly and jabbed a finger at Peter, who slightly jumped. "He's going to be executed next year. We don't know when, or how, but it seems Phantom only tolerates young, agile people. Nobody over fifty."

"That's a little depressing, don't you think?" Trace asked, unsure of his own question. Hailey caught the shakiness in his tone.

"Not really. I mean, we sort of deserve it, don't you think? We kill on command, don't question our Modifiers, and we deserve to die painfully. It's our job, kind of," Hailey laughed a little and then sighed, lifting her hand up to her waist. "Looks like we don't get breakfast today. Our mission has been requested early. Are you all ready?"

Trace felt uneasy. A sudden hunger pain overwhelmed him. Assassins started to teleport away. Soon it was only WP7 left in the whole breakfast hall.

"I might need to train a bit," Trace admitted, sliding out of his chair to stretch his arms.

Hailey shook her head. "There's no time for training. You'll have to learn while performing the mission."

"Okay," Trace mumbled. His comrades lifted their hands behind their necks and floated into the air, disappearing into a billion micro-particles.

"Trace, for your new Modifier, simply tap your thumb on the disc and it should twist in," Hailey explained, demonstrating. Her body lifted into the air.

Trace frantically lifted his arm up and brushed his thumb along his Modifier. Words flashed in front of his eyes as if he was reading from a computer screen.

DANGER MISSION #-193--0008 COMMENCE.

Trace dropped into an abandoned building, Hailey dropping in next to him.

"Where's everyone else?" Trace whispered. Hailey glared at him and rolled her eyes. She was under Phantom's control as much as Trace was.

"They dropped in somewhere else. Now, Trace, you need some weapons other than a dagger. For the sake of time, order a weapon from your Modifier and it'll materialize before you," Hailey said flatly, demonstrating. "Scythe," she hissed, and a long black stick with a sharp curved blade at the end dropped into her ready hand. "Remember that they only last for five minutes, as your Modifier will overheat if you maintain it any longer."

Trace nodded, a little wary, and Hailey smiled, running into the dark building.

"Poison stars," Trace tried. He held both of his gloved hands out, finer curled slightly inward, and watched intently as a four-pronged ninja star formed in each of his hands. An aroma of green rose from the blades.

Enemy advancing: left, his Modifier alerted him.

Trace turned left and the outline of a person running towards him showed up red.

Without a moment's hesitation, Trace launched the star at his target's head. A sharp cutting noise broke the ominous silence and the body thudded to the ground.

"Trace!" A voice shrieked. It sounded frantic, like the person was being strangled.

Trace's eyebrows furrowed. Who was that?

"Hello?" He called lamely, taking the obvious bait. "Who's there?"

In only a matter of seconds, Trace felt a knife at his neck and he was flipped to the ground, pinned between a pair of knees. When he saw the face behind the cloak hovering above him, he relaxed.

A smile curled onto Shallomar's lips. "Don't fall for silly tricks, Trace. Someone may use one to kill you."

Gulping, Trace sat up. "Yeah, I got that."

Mission complete. Teleport back to Phantom.

"Well, at least you didn't kill the wrong person this time," Dereck chimed in, slapping Trace in the back.

They rose into the air and Trace felt cold again. Dereck's words rang in his ears. What did they mean? Was he just playing around?

The breakfast hall bled back around them. Assassins continued to socialize.

Trace's head hurt again. Something must've gone wrong last night. That was the only explanation he could come up with that sounded correct.

He had to find out what Phantom was hiding from him. Before something bad could happen.