At the bottom of the elevator, the area coordinator waited for them. His mask was black, matching his large eyebrows and dark eyes. He greeted them with a nod and reached back to his neck. His eyes—including the whites—turned shiny black as though he was possessed. The transition was terrifying. Trace tried to look away as casually as possible.

The Modifier communication was audible to all three of them. It was the first time Trace had heard more then one voice at a time.

Peter, the man grunted.

Duke, Peter responded. Their voices were steady and respectful. This "Duke" person seemed to hold Peter in a high esteem.

I assume your numbers from the past week look great, as usual. He was taller even than Peter, who towered above almost everyone. Trace felt small and weak just standing next to the pair.

You assume correct, Peter said. We completed all of our commissions without error. And, as you can see, I've brought our latest recruit.

I see, Duke said, but he didn't look at Trace. At least, his head didn't move. The glossy black that filled his eyes made it impossible to tell where he could've been looking. So he's been assigned to your squadron. I see he is also currently committed to his trial period with his Modifier.

Indeed, Peter sighed. But he's handling it very well.

You've always had a soft spot for newbies, Duke commented. His head moved slightly to face Trace. Don't let his facade fool you, kid. Peter is weak. That's why he's been in the same squadron for so long.

Peter was silent. In this awkward moment, Trace made the bold move to speak.

I look forward to learning a lot from Peter and all of the members of WP-0770, Trace said. His voice in the Modifier echoed in his head slightly. He cringed at how young he sounded. If he were either of them, he wouldn't be able to take himself seriously.

Duke took a step forward and reached his hand out. Trace lifted his as well to complete the handshake, but hesitated when he realized just how large this man's hands were. Was he a giant or something?

Very nice to hear that, Duke responded. I hope you can retain the same enthusiasm after your trial period.

I will. The words sounded promising to Trace, but he couldn't tell if they would sound the same to the men who have been in this much longer.

Peter gave Duke a look and they nodded at each other. Then, they were dismissed and returned to the tram.

On the short ride to the train station, Peter didn't speak a word. Trace also couldn't read his expression. Surprisingly, the situation on floor twenty-nine of their sector building had already long left his mind. Was it possible that Peter was still thinking about it?

Trace followed Peter back through the crowd of people to the sleek black train with the line of white running down the middle. They entered without speaking to one another and sat in their private room labeled with purple.

When the door shut, Peter spoke. He'd already deactivated his Modifier, so his eyes were back to their original dark green. If he did this because of what he said earlier, it meant that he wanted this conversation to stay out of Phantom's records.

"I need to tell you about what happened today. It's not something you should've seen, but it was bound to happen ever since we entered the train station in our neighborhood." Peter's eyes were serious, his eyebrows set over them. "You don't need to respond to me as I tell you this, especially since you can't turn your Modifier off to keep this private. So just hear me out."

Trace managed to nod his head, once. The train lurched forward and whistled along the tracks, heading for their home station.

Peter continued. "I've been with Phantom for thirteen years, before the Association was established worldwide. So I've seen many people enter and exit. I've seen a lot of people that I care about die." He paused, judging Trace's expression. Was he considering stopping there if Trace didn't show emotional interest? Just in case, Trace widened his eyes and blinked. Hopefully that would be enough.

"A lot has changed since the start of Phantom. Since the Association took ownership over it. Many of us died trying to protect Phantom's original intent. Soon we realized it wasn't worth losing ourselves over. We ended up being the first volunteers to try the Modifier." Peter sighed, then removed his mask. He stared at it in his hands, rubbing the leather with his long thumbs. Without the mask, he looked sad, vulnerable. He looked back up at Trace and smiled sympathetically. "I don't know why I'm telling you this and I don't expect you to understand, but. . ."

The attendant knocked on their door and Peter straightened up, turning away from the door to reposition his mask over his nose and mouth.

"Would you like water, sirs?" The girl asked. Her voice was monotone, but there was something in it that revealed her exhaustion. Trace watched Peter shake his head, so he did the same.

The attendant nodded and left.

Peter sighed again, but left his mask on. His eyelids were heavy over the dark green. "I guess if I'm being open with you, it means I think it might finally be my time to retire."

At these words, Trace felt a tinge of horror. Images of the orange masked girl dropping to the floor flooded his memory. Would that be Peter's "retirement"? Would Hailey remove his Modifier and leave him lifeless for some crew to come clean up? Or would Phantom release him into society? Would Peter want to resume life outside of the Association?

"You're probably thinking what I mean by that," Peter chuckled softly. "Well, it can't get simpler than death. I've been with Phantom too long, know too much. Our data and completion rates look great, but our team is small. They need to fill it with new people. I'm taking up a valuable spot." His eyes darkened as he said this. "Derek is younger than I am, but unless he transfers to another squad soon, he might be going out the same door I am."

He looked up at Trace and the green in his eyes appeared a shade lighter. "I'm sorry for throwing all of this on you, when you're really supposed to be focusing on yourself and improving your reception to the Modifier. I don't mean to confuse you." He glanced at the door, then stared at his hands, clasping them together. He thought for a moment before he spoke again, and when he did, his voice was softer. "We were all told to be wary of you, actually. That because of your youth, you're especially susceptible to coercion. This job—this lifestyle—isn't an easy one. They're trying to recruit more members as quickly as they can."

The train pulled slowly into the station and Peter grew even quieter. "I think the Association is planning to make itself known to the rest of society soon."

#

Peter and Trace walked back to the bunker in complete silence. The empty bunkers lined along their street were especially silent in the dead of the night. Even though they were returning early, it still felt strange that the streets were lifeless and black. If they had been in a normal city, it might have felt dangerous.

Dangerous. Trace humored the thought of a neighborhood of assassins afraid to walk the streets alone at night. He knew that such a notion was impossible, especially with how loyal and respectful the Association made their people.

Peter opened the door and Trace passed through. It was like the first day he arrived. Darkness until they walked further in, and the lights turned on at their movement. Wyze was sitting in the parlour, her eyes concentrated on nothing in front of her. Her eyes were glowing purple.

Peter led Trace to the kitchen counter, which he tapped with a finger. A screen flickered on across the black countertop and a list of completed commissions appeared in a web that expanded across the length of it. Listed under each were the member's names. Trace spotted his under the most recent one. He felt like this should make him happy, but he felt slightly dejected at his lack of experience.

Soon, he would be on every mission. He would be entrusted to carry out the details.

Wyze appeared at their side, her eyes back to their normal flat gray color. What had she been doing with her Modifier activated?

She reached up to cup Peter's shoulder and blinked at him. "Thanks for doing that today, Peter."

He lifted his hand to touch hers. "It's always a pleasure to bring you guys work."

The exchange between them puzzled Trace. The touching, eye contact, emotional expression. All of it felt foreign. But at the same time, he felt a little jealous that they so were so easily capable of showing vulnerability.

Suddenly, Peter turned to Trace. His eyes were serious. "You asked me earlier why our squad's members show so much emotion, and I don't think I can answer that." He looked to Wyze, then back to Trace. "It might be credited to Hailey, who treats us with such care. As you saw earlier, leaders tend to be relentless when it comes to punishment." He rubbed Wyze's hand and she released his shoulder. "Derek is evidence enough to show how patient Hailey is. She's earned our respect."

"Oh have I, now?" Hailey cooed from the staircase. She was leaning against the wall, her yellow hair wet from a recent shower. Her eyes darted to Trace. "How was your visit to HeadQuarters? Did you see what you needed to?"

What he needed to? If she meant the commissions and his introduction to Duke, then yes, he did. There was no way she could have predicted the incident with the orange masks. . . could she?

Peter sighed, then moved over to Hailey, swiping the screen off as he did. He turned his back to her when they were close and she meddled with the Modifier in his neck.

When Trace's body stiffened again, he realized he was back under Hailey's control, and that he didn't miss it.

"Trace, return to your room. You've had a long day and I'm sure you'll need lots of rest before your chores tomorrow." The orders immediately took effect and Trace was heading toward his room. He couldn't look back even if he wanted to. And if he did, he was certain he would see the sadness in Peter's eyes.

He would try his best remember how that looked.

#

"So, how was your first day?" Alexis asked, though she sounded uninterested. Her white hood rested on her shoulders, revealing a head of bright red hair. Trace hadn't noticed that before.

"I saw a lot of things," he replied. How much could he tell her, if she was indeed an Escort that existed somewhere out there in the Association? He ought to keep his words vague so he didn't get himself in trouble.

Alexis's eyebrow crooked up but she didn't press further. "I'm surprised you're not jumping for joy now that you know how to move your body in your subconscious. And that you don't have to deal with the pain of your actual body."

Trace flexed his hands out and the stretch felt almost too real. It felt fantastic to control himself again.

"How am I able to suddenly move my body like this? I could barely do anything last time."

Alexis smirked. "Unironically, it's 'muscle memory.' Here, your body has no issue remembering how to move, because it really isn't under the control of the Modifier."

Trace nodded in understanding. "So you mentioned that we would be training today?"

"Yes," she said, her green eyes brightening. "Today I want to test your combat skills."

Trace stood up and realized he was just slightly taller than her. He had been taller than the other women in WP-0770—except Hailey—and he hadn't felt superior. With Alexis, he was filled with a cocky confidence that felt strange to him, but wasn't unwelcome.

"I already had a combat test," Trace countered. And he passed the test, too. But he was sure he didn't need to add that.

"Can that truly be considered 'combat,' though? You didn't even fight the guy." Alexis marveled at Trace's loss for words and clucked her tongue. "That's right. I watched the whole thing as it happened."

"What was I supposed to do? Kill the man in front of the little girl?" Trace's voice suddenly filled with anger. Emotion. More than he's ever given it permission to have.

Alexis's golden eyes widened, and she snickered. "You act surprised." She leaned toward him, her eyes looking through light lashes. "That's exactly what you were supposed to do. Kill the target. Complete the mission."

Trace gulped. He could feel the condescension dripping in her voice. She was telling the truth, and it was painful.

"So I failed?" Trace winced at his own words.

Alexis shook her head. "No. You chose a different avenue. An interesting one. Not many decide to 'punish' the offender instead of kill." She turned away and walked a few steps, then looked back at him with a glint in her eye. "Not many choose to talk with their target, either."

Author's Note

What do you think of Alexis? Duke? Who is your favorite character so far? My personal fave is Peter <3