A Modifier injection was a surgical procedure. Its sole purpose was to cut the brain off from its host so it could control the body. Modifiers were what made Phantom so successful at what it did for the Association.

Hailey pointed to a flat, silver table. It looked like a mix between a high-tech medical bed and a gurney. The odd device seemed fitting, though. The room the two of them stood in wasn't quite a traditional doctor's office, but it wasn't as depressing as a funeral home, either. Without questioning, Trace obeyed her silent command, laying across the cool metal.

"Remove your cloak and mask," she said sharply.

Trace instinctively moved his gloved hand to his heart, where the two sides of his black leather cloak clasped together.  She wanted him to take it off. . . To reveal his face.

His Mentor had told him time and time again never to reveal who he was to anyone. And from that day, Trace had worn a mask even during his training. His Mentor had always worn one, which put Trace at an immediate disadvantage.

Hailey snapped her fingers when Trace's hand froze over the clasp. He twitched at the sound.

"The Modifier gets inserted into your neck, so the cloak needs to go." She removed hers first, the leather falling like a thick, tar waterfall around her. Then, she reached up to her face to remove her mask. "And whether you like it or not, you can't keep your identity concealed forever." She slid the thin mask off, revealing her long nose and small lips. She smiled. "If you don't remove it now, you won't have the choice to resist later."

If what she said was true about ordering someone to do things via Modifier communication, then he was only postponing the inevitable. Sooner or later, the members of WP-0770 would see who he really was.

He sat up, unclasped his cloak, and let it fall around him. Then, his hands shakily removed his mask. The sound of his heart filled his ears and he couldn't meet Hailey's gaze. He wasn't embarrassed of his appearance, yet he still felt awkward. She was right, after all. Once his Modifier was installed, he would no longer have complete control. He knew that.

Long-ish and choppy hair stuck out in every direction, unkempt from the lack of grooming. Trace's eyes were blue-green, his eyebrows bushy over them. His face was thin, sinking in where his cheeks should've been full of youth.

"Great, now that that's over with," Hailey coughed, "I need to preface you with a few side effects you may experience during the first few days under the Modifier's direct control."

Hailey reached into a cabinet, pulling out a set of sterile gloves and several surgeon tools. Along with these: an iridescent crescent-shaped disc kept in a vacuum-sealed cylinder. She set the items carefully on a silver tray, then brought it over to a dolly stationed next to the bed.

Trace watched her every movement very carefully, knowing that there was nothing to be worried about. Her calculated movements reassured him that he didn't need to feel such strong emotions of distrust and malice.

"This," Hailey said, holding the clear cylinder, "is your Modifier. It looks harmless, but it is what will make you an official member not only of  WP-0770, but also of Phantom." She looked down, peeled the seal of a packet containing the sterile gloves, and slid her fingers into each fourchette. "As soon as your Modifier is connected, you will experience some discomfort. Each time your Modifier is activated, you will experience this discomfort, but every member has a different experience during the activation period.

"We like to call these experiences our 'vulnerabilities' because they usually are accompanied by a strong emotional pain. Usually false memories, or rather, possibilities of who we might have been had we not chosen to join Phantom." She sighed. "When your Modifier is active for the first time, you will feel very different. Much of what you learned in your training will feel unnatural and weird. So we will give you an adjustment period of five days to get your mind and body under control."

Trace just stared at her. He couldn't decide whether this knowledge was a blessing or a curse. Knowing that he will be experiencing both mental and physical discomfort each time his Modifier was used did everything but put him at ease.

Hailey continued. "If you can't withstand the strength of the Modifier, your body will reject it. And Phantom will discard you." Her voice was still monotone, but her eyes said something different. She was sympathetic toward Trace. The soft brown in her eyes was warm and caring, unlike the previously cold and apathetic purple.

"So what do I do to get through the pain?" Trace asked. His voice was monotone, steady, as well.

Hailey shrugged, unscrewing the cylinder. She pulled the Modifier out and the light of the room magnified through the crescent disc. "You need to be one hundred percent doubtless that this is what you want for the rest of your life." Her other hand reached for a thin, sharp surgical knife.

"It is," Trace said. Hailey smiled. She moved closer to him, gesturing for him to lay away from her on his side. He looked at her. "I don't get any anesthetics or numbing agent? And you're doing the surgery?"

Hailey frowned, the warmth leaving her eyes. She leaned back, balancing the Modifier in one hand and the knife in the other. "I don't need to explain myself to you, but I will so you'll stop doubting me." Her lips were a hard line, her features all going sharp at the same time. She looked genuinely frightening. "I am the leader of WP-0770, which means it is my responsibility and also my privilege to choose members. My position also requires me to oversee all missions, maintain order between my ranks, and of course, perform all Modifier injections." Trace's face faltered slightly, horror deepening the blue in his eyes. "I'm sure you've gathered what I've done to maintain my superiority over this legion."

Trace knew, but didn't want to believe it. Hailey had injected each member with a Modifier. She held the responsibilities of a military general, yet her behaviors were all over the place. One moment, she was smiling kindly at everyone, and the next, she was threatening death with her eyes.

"To answer your other question," Hailey said, smiling, "no, you won't be receiving any anesthetics, nor will you get any numbing cream." She waved her hand again for him to turn around, and this time he obeyed.

Hailey made a small incision in the back of his neck, right above the cervical vertebrae closest to the base of his neck. The pain was very slight.

She made a second slice, cutting between bones for a spot where the Modifier would rest. The pain was sudden and unbearable, shocking Trace's body on the spot. His breath lodged in his throat and his lungs refused to bring in more air. Then, Hailey's knife cut through the nerve binding the bones together and Trace's body went limp. He was still alive, but paralyzed from the neck down. Hailey had incapacitated him in mere seconds.

His thoughts were all confusion mixed with a quickly growing hatred for her. He hated her for paralyzing him, but he was puzzled at the idea that she would go to such lengths to do so.

It was obvious when the Modifier was attached, because Trace's thoughts were suddenly shut off like someone flicked a switch. He thought of nothing and felt nothing. He couldn't even remember that just seconds ago he was cursing Hailey in his head. Wait, who was Hailey?

A few minutes later, the leader of WP-0770 leaned back. "I've glued the incision shut, but it will be tender throughout your recovery period. Try not to touch it."

Trace continued breathing again. He glanced down at his hands and urged them to move, but to no avail. He was still paralyzed. But his memory was getting sharper by the minute. He remembered that Hailey had just injected his Modifier and that he felt an immense hostility toward his leader.

"You can't move on your own while your Modifier is activated. At least not immediately," Hailey said flatly, rinsing Trace's blood from the knife at a sink near the cabinets. "And it is to remain activated during the next five days of recovery."

Trace glared at his hands, cursing them to move. He had the sudden, foreign desire to prove Hailey wrong. If he could move, he could show her that the Modifier didn't change him like she said it would. But this strange desire only confused Trace more. He knew there was no reason to resist.

Idiot, Hailey scoffed. But her voice sounded different. It was sturdier, heavier, sharper. The Modifier made her voice commanding. Something about it ceased all of Trace's mental struggles to move. This must've been the voice the members heard that they feared so much. Your ability to speak will return to you soon. Now get up. After she said this, the numbing pain started, expanding out to his arms and legs, hands and feet.

His body jerked upright on its own, his hands folding in his lap. His head whipped around to face a smirking Hailey.

You're under my control for these five days, Trace. Her smirk grew wider, if that was possible. Did something about this amuse her? You can only move when I command it.

The thought horrified Trace suddenly. He had been so strict with himself about falling into perfect step with Phantom that he hadn't thought about control and how much it meant to him. And it was too late now.

He glanced at his hand again, begging one last time for his fingers to show any sign of obedience to him, not Hailey.

And then it happened. The slight, most microscopic of twitches. A wave of excitement buzzed through him but he maintained his composure.

He wasn't completely out of control. Not yet. And this fact burned deep in him, filled him with an unfamiliar but satisfying sense of duty.

Now go to your room and have your morning meal. Then go to sleep. Hailey turned away from him as his body obeyed, sliding off the bed and moving to the tall, metallic door. As he passed by, he caught his reflection. His previously sunken cheeks were plump and full of energy, his lips full of color.

His eyes glowed a brilliant, malicious purple.