They materialized into a dark alley, huddled around each other and silent. Past the alley, cars growled in the streets and sirens echoed off skyscrapers.

Trace looked to the darkening sky–a sliver of blue between the tall buildings. The inner facing sides of the alley were dark and windows lining the building were almost the same color as the concrete ground. Maybe the rooms were vacant or abandoned? It wasn't rare for a modern city to lack tenants.

"I'm showing this for the sake of today's mission," Hailey said in a hushed tone. Her voice pulled Trace back down to the circle of glowing purple eyes and dark cloaks. In her hand, she held a thin piece of paper and moved it in Trace's direction–not for him to take, but to read before she would destroy it.

WP-0770 - MISSION 0342 - VIO - KOS

Trace raised an eyebrow at the piece of paper. He had no idea what the combination of letters meant after the mission number. But he had no time to ask–Hailey wrapped her fingers around the paper and it disintegrated in her fist.

"Normally we communicate. . . telepathically. . . via Modifier," Hailey explained softly, but she seemed to dislike her word choice. "You don't have one yet, so I needed to physically show you this mission." Trace nodded, though he still didn't quite understand. "Your job," she pointed at him, "is to watch. No interference is allowed. It's too dangerous." Trace nodded again.

"What's the point of this?" Derek whispered.

Dior cut in, eyes vibrant. "He needs to see what this life is like before we inject a Modifier into him. Doesn't he deserve a chance at freedom?"

Derek's eyes filled with venom and darted to Trace. "We never had that chance."

Trace kept his eyes down. Why was everyone showing so much expression? He'd been trained to resist the urge to succumb to emotional stimuli, and yet this group faltered so often–on a mission, even! And besides, it wasn't Trace's choice to be here. His Mentor had made that clear.

Hailey returned Derek's glare with her dominating power, stronger now that they were on a mission. But something felt different, still. The color in her eyes grew hot, brightening the purple and forcing Derek to freeze under her command. The light and expression left his eyes as though his soul departed from his body.

Then she looked at Trace, the purple in her eyes cooling down to a less blinding brightness. "Follow closely behind and don't do or say anything."

Trace nodded.

#

With Hailey in the lead, the group stealthily slithered through the city, blending in seamlessly with the night. Dior and Wyze stuck close together, moving like body and shadow to avoid the lights cast by streetlamps.

Trace watched in awe as the members writhed through the darkness as though one beast and understood in that instant that this was what made Phantom the power that it was. Would he be able to move so effortlessly, so perfectly in sync with the others?

He didn't have to try to know that moving along with them would be fruitless. They were under Hailey's direct control, each movement ordered to match hers. He hung back several paces so as not to disturb their careful formation.

They'd successfully evaded any wandering city dweller's eyes, relaxing their ranks as they walked into a dimly lit neighborhood. Nothing crept along this street, not even the homeless who slept peacefully in abandoned parks or splayed themselves across rusty old benches. No, this street was empty for a reason.

Hailey signaled with a twitch of her hand and Derek glitched to her side, almost too fast to see. She looked at him and her eyes burned under her bent eyebrows. Something unspoken crossed between them before Derek sped further into the darkness, alone.

A few seconds later, the four others advanced forward. Trace remained behind the group.

Derek hadn't gone far–just a block or so down from the end of the street. He stood a safe distance away from a car parked in front of a small home, watching it intently. His body was stiff as he concentrated.

Hailey stood next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder, then nodded. The others disappeared into different lawns in the neighborhood, watching from afar. Hailey's eyes flitted to Trace, then she beckoned him with a tilted nod. He moved forward.

From where the three of them stood, they could see just barely through the car's windshield. A man and a woman seemed to be having an argument in the car. It was inaudible, but the woman seemed to be the most aggravated of the two.

Trace sighed softly beneath his mask. In cases of domestic abuse, weren't the police responsible for getting involved? Why would Phantom be commissioned for something so placid?

Without looking at him, Hailey reached back to tap Trace, as though she could sense that he'd lost interest.

The couple in the vehicle stopped talking. Then, in a few blurry moments, the woman had the man's head in her hands, and she was slamming it against the dashboard, the steering wheel, and then into the driver's window. He immediately lost consciousness, but that clearly wasn't the woman's goal. Even through the dark windshield, the insanity in her eyes was vibrant.

Derek looked quickly to Hailey, but she made no move to respond.

Trace's eyes were now glued to the woman in the car, her long hair falling in twisted strands across her face. She looked around, through the windows for any passersby, and then she leaned forward and plunged something deep into the man's back. He flinched forward, eyes opening and dark liquid spraying from his lips, into the windshield. The woman removed the object and plunged it again, this time higher up, and the man flinched once, then stopped moving.

Hailey stepped back, then turned toward Trace. Her eyes were relaxed as though she expected to witness a murder. They carried no pity.

Then, as though by some miracle, the car's alarm went off.

The woman's eyes flared with horror; her body locked in place for a few moments as different avenues of escape flashed before her. She struggled with her door handle, then tried punching the glass first with her fist, then her elbow. Nothing seemed to be working. Panic controlled her motions as she pressed her hands to the roof of the car, the windows, the dashboard. Then she looked at the man who was slumped over the steering wheel and she vomited.

Peter appeared next to the passenger's side, his slender and tall body standing in horrific contrast to the short sedan. He reached a long arm out and opened her door.

She almost didn't realize he'd given her an escape route. But then, she felt the cool air of the night and she turned to meet Peter's eyes.

Not even a second later, and she was crawling in the grass, ignoring her savior's presence. Her arms and legs were right angles, pale against the dark lawn.

Peter pointed his arm, moving it slowly in sync with the woman's twitches. Then, he brought his hand back, something spun from within his sleeve and rested between his two longest fingers, and he flung the object toward the woman. It hit her perfectly on the back of her head and she dropped, limp, into the grass.

Dead.

#

As soon as the woman collapsed, the world went black and WP-0770 was back in their bunker, standing together quietly in the darkness.

Then, lights turned on around them to reveal a small room with an ovular table at its center, chairs surrounding it. Each member took a seat. Trace copied them.

Hailey wove her leather fingers together and placed them in front of her. She looked at Trace from across the table, searching him for something. Then, her eyes brightened.

"Permission to speak granted," she said.

Trace breathed in, then parted his lips. "Was it necessary to allow that woman to kill the man before fulfilling the commission?"

Derek pounded a fist on the table. "How dare you question–" Hailey shot a look at him and he turned away in a huff.

"You needn't ask questions about who or why we fulfill the mission the way we do. That is something only I need to know. You simply understand the nature of your target and follow orders." Hailey's voice was soft, but not kind. It demanded agreement.

Trace gulped, nodding. He hesitated before speaking again but judged the silence to mean it was appropriate for him to continue. "I apologize for my inadequacy, but I don't know what the letters meant on the piece of paper you showed me. I wasn't taught Phantom acronyms."

Hailey's brow lifted, amused. "It's simple jargon used in wartimes of the past. V.I.O. is short for 'violent,' and K.O.S means 'kill on sight.'"

Trace turned to Peter. He kept his tone even. "But you didn't kill her on sight."

Peter didn't meet Trace's gaze. His voice came out quiet and monotone. "You're right. I was ordered to kill her differently, due to the situation."

"We are equipped for every possible outcome," Hailey continued for him. Trace glanced back at her. "This one happened to be an easier one. One where Peter's skill could be used." Derek huffed next to her, but she ignored him.

"How did he know he would be the one to fulfill the mission?" Trace asked.

Hailey laughed a little too loudly. The rest of the group snickered. "Do you know nothing, boy?" Hailey untwined her fingers and pressed her palms together. Her eyes dipped at the bottom–she was smiling. "I ordered him to. Via Modifier."

Trace bit his lip. He had assumed a Modifier would be his weapon of choice, not some weird device used to control him. Then again, Dior had said that it needed to be injected.

Now Wyze spoke, her voice gravelly. "Looks like the kid's finally figured out what the stakes are here."

"Indeed," Hailey said. She removed her gloves, then reached behind her neck. Her eyes returned to their normal brown, the purple spiraling out of them like the clouds wiping away the sun. The rest of the members' shoulders drooped, and their eyes returned to their natural colors as well. Hailey sighed. "You did well to watch, Trace. Without interfering, you allowed the mission to go as planned. Which means, you passed."

Something fuzzy warped into Trace's stomach, causing him to shiver with excitement. Relief washed over him and for the first time since he arrived at the bunker, his head felt light.

"The real question is," Hailey began, "are you ready to become one of Phantom's robots?"

Though her wording felt strange to him, Trace knew there was no other answer than "yes."

#

Author's Note

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! You may have noticed I'm uploading this on a Monday... That's because I wanted to do two uploads this week. Look out for the next one on Wednesday! :)

Let me know you liked this chapter by leaving a vote and/or comments!

Thanks! :)