The next night, Trace woke earlier than the rest. His Modifier activated and he quickly at his breakfast before meeting Isaac in the parlor.

Today he wore a white cloak, and he looked more like an Escort should. His mask was still purple, and his eyes were dark. As Trace took a seat next to him, Isaac crossed one of his legs over the other.

I'm impressed you're up early. Isaac's voice was crackly over the Modifier. Was he tired? Stressed? Trace doubted Isaac would ever tell, so he stopped wondering. Since you're here, why don't you give me a report on yesterday's mission?

Yes, sir. Trace folded his hands over each other and looked at Isaac. His Modifier still wouldn't give him a reading on his new leader's emotional state. In fact, had it stopped working for everyone else as well? It had been such a short amount of time between experiencing the Modifier's tools that he almost couldn't remember what that felt like.

Tell me about who we were dealing with and why. Isaac's voice returned to its hard and sturdy monotone. He must've had something in his throat when he spoke at first.

The Italian Mafia, Trace responded. He was nearly one hundred percent confident, but a grain of doubt tumbled between his words. Administrations between families were fighting for dominance. We were tasked with stopping them.

Isaac crossed his arms over is legs and leaned forward. His eyebrows crooked slightly over his eyes as he squinted at the ground.

I gathered that much as well, Isaac said. He slid his knee off his other leg and dropped his arms between them, his elbows resting on his thighs. But even I am unsure of the threat the Mafia poses to the Association.

Trace studied Isaac for a moment. Dark skin against a pure white cloak and dark purple mask. He was unlike anyone he'd ever seen before. Each and every movement he made was careful, even more so that the other assassins he'd come across. Even down to the twitching of his eyebrow, everything was perfectly timed.

You said it, sir. Before you threw the axe, you told him there can be no other god other than the Association. Trace watched as Isaac's eyes momentarily lit up, but then dulled back down quickly.

That's correct, he said. His eyes traveled around the room lazily, up to the lights that bent and shaped around the high ceilings. The Association will soon rule all. Which is why we must remain loyal and strong.

Of course, Trace agreed. Then he thought of the other Phantom Members. What would come of them? They were clearly going against Phantom with their behavior, weren't they? Isaac's presence was helping Trace return to his old self, but would that mean leaving the other four members behind?

Peter. You're thinking about him, aren't you? Isaac's voice was raspy.

No, Trace responded. I'm thinking about the rest of them.

Isaac nodded. And you should. I'm here to put them in their place. He suddenly looked up at Trace, eyes serious. Your squad has been on the Association's kill list for a while. You are all quite lucky I'm here to revive it.

Then, what about Peter? He was the least deserving of punishment. Trace said this flatly, with no emotion. 

That's correct. Punishing the least guilty is what makes others listen. It's a philosophy that sides with control. Isaac's voice tapered off as he turned to look past Trace at someone entering the parlor.

Hailey.

Good morning, Isaac greeted her.

Good morning, she said back. Neither had any emotion in their voices. It felt normal, but it also felt colder.

Can I assume you slept well yesterday? There was no concern in Isaac's voice. He could be asking any question and it would sound the same.

Yes, of course. Hailey bent forward and took the seat next to Trace, furthest from Isaac. The room was silent as the three sat and looked around the room. The atmosphere should've been thick with tension, but there was simply nothing to say. Or rather, no one had permission to speak out of turn.

Then you must be prepared to report back your mission outcome. Isaac was expectant. He locked his fingers together and rested his chin on them, then looked relentlessly into Hailey's eyes.

She didn't shy away, even if she wanted to. Of course. She paused a moment, perhaps to calculate the information that her Modifier would feed her, then proceeded. Five targets were dead upon arrival. Derek and I took care of the victim and delivered her to societal authorities. Wyze eliminated the three other targets. They had sought solace in an abandoned storage shed, which made it easy to corner them and enact justice.

Hailey's voice grew stronger as she spoke. Something about her clarity and confidence stoked a fire in Trace. Did he miss the way she explained things? He must've, because her words gave him energy.

Very well. I'm pleased with your group's success. Isaac's voice was lighter for a moment. Trace could tell he didn't give out comments very regularly. The words came out in strange intervals. Unnatural.

The other three filed in pretty quickly after one another, and one by one they each gave their report. As expected, many repeated what the others said. Except Dior's. Trace was surprised she was asked to give a report. And when she did, it was all a lie.

Trace and I went into a room filled with upturned tables, chairs, and desks. Most targets were already dead due to their own slaughter. The final two dealt with each other. Trace dealt the final blow with his revolver. She was so confident in her lie that Trace almost believed it. But it was clear to him that on some wavelength, Isaac was feeding this information into her. Forcing her to say these things.

What was Isaac's goal? To glorify Trace? To force the other members to recognize Trace's potential after his first hesitation with Peter's mission?

Derek's voice suddenly cut in through Trace's Modifier. He could tell it was on a private channel, because no one else responded.

So, you proved yourself, huh? His tone was a bit snotty. Or is Isaac covering for you? And why would he do that?

Trace didn't pay any attention to Derek's crude accusations. Instead, he addressed Isaac directly.

Dior is lying. You're the one who killed the last target. I watched from the side. Dior was elsewhere.

Isaac's eyes flitted to Trace, then twitched. Yes. This simple one-word response made Trace freeze. It was like a punishment all in its own. Isaac hadn't wanted to be called out. Had Trace blown his cover? Could Isaac see that Trace was immune to his control?

Dior seemed to come out of a trance, because she spoke next. My apologies. I must remember the mission incorrectly.

No, Isaac fed this to her as well. Covering for his mistake. Trace saw right through it. He hoped the others did, too.

Your apology is accepted, Dior. He pushed himself up from the couch and walked to the edge of the parlor. You may all enjoy Association coffee as a reward for your mission successes.

Then, he turned and left the room.

This moment of free time was precious. Trace needed to let them know he was immune. But could he trust them?

#

You're an idiot for thinking Isaac can't just hop over to the secure server and listen in on private conversations, meathead, Wyze scolded. Her voice was different over this private channel as well. Lighter, but rougher at the same time. Similar to how she really spoke, rather than the smoothness that came across over the normal Modifier channel.

Why didn't you use this channel before? Trace asked. The other members went silent.

Who let Trace in? Hailey barked. Her voice was strained—the complete opposite of how it came across under Isaac's control. Her facial expression and posture didn't change, though. Those parts were still under the heavy influence of her Modifier.

Still, Trace felt something break in his heart. He didn't expect Hailey's words to hurt him as deeply as they did.

I did, Derek finally said. The others groaned. He's just a kid. He needs people to lean on. Even if he's a little punk once in a while. The slightest bit of movement happened so Derek was now looking at Trace. You didn't mean what you said about freedom and building relationships, right kid?

The other members waited for Trace's response patiently. Did they really want to hear it so badly? If he was honest, not even he knew what he truly believed. Just a short week after his induction and his entire world was flipped on its back. Everything his Mentor had taught him had seemed useless until Isaac stepped in. Things were starting to progress as he'd been told they would. It brought him comfort, but not necessarily happiness or wonder.

Is that what he wanted? Happiness? Amazement?

Trace took too long to answer, and Isaac was soon back in the parlor. I've warmed it up for each of you. I'll dump if when it's cool.

Even under Isaac's control, they couldn't resist the earthy smell wafting in the air, just at nose level, from the kitchen.

Go and drink, Isaac ordered.

They went swiftly to the kitchen, where five mugs sat equally apart on the counter. Steam billowed weakly over the liquid's shiny black surface. Beginning with Hailey, each member grabbed their mug, breathed in the coffee's exotic fragrance, and dumped the stuff down their throat.

Trace could almost imagine the reluctance Dior must've felt while inhaling the drink so quickly, when it should have been slowly enjoyed. She'd expressed such anger earlier when Trace had left his half-drunk.

I choose you, Trace said over the private channel as he swallowed his last gulp. All of you.