Chapter Six

I stumbled down the dark hallway, Dixter leaned against me. Alka clutched my arm out of fright. She was overly afraid, especially for a nine-year-old. I suppose being an orphan in Kistra would do that to children.

"It's okay," I reassured her in French. She looked up at me with her scared eyes. They had a deeper look to them, like this was more than fear. She was scared of trusting anyone. "We'll get you cleaned up."

At the end of the hallway, Dix collapsed. Alka and I stumbled, but kept our feet on the ground. I managed to reach out an arm to type in the passcode, the red dot flickering to green. The wall folded into itself, revealing our broken bodies to the B.L.A.D.E. guards. They each took a step forward, alarmed.

"Agents," I stumbled. "We need some assistance."

They rushed forward, helping Dixter to his feet. Once he was supported by one agent, the other offered to help me into the elevator. I accepted, then turned back towards the poor girl.

"This way, Alka." I offered my hand, and she took it. She looked uncertain of the strange men. She took steps back, evidently not easily trusting.

"Ça va, Alka," It's okay. I nodded to the agent. He let me go, and I stood on my own unsteadily. I carefully kneeled and looked her in the eye, just like the first time. I spoke softly to her in French. "They're here to help. I promise, no one here will hurt you."

The pain in the broken nine-year-old's eyes tore at my heart. She took my hand, the agent once again helped me to my feet, and we slowly made our way towards the elevator.

Once everyone was in, the agent holding Dix pressed the button for level 4, the medical floor. The agent supporting me took out his communicator and called for two new guards. The other agent took out his comm and alerted Chief about our condition.

The doors opened, and the blinding lights of level 4 overwhelmed me. I almost stumbled. Am I really that hurt? I felt like I was about to faint.

When I looked up again, I could see the white walls, the rows of beds, the medical equipment, the cabinets of supplies. Worried nurses watched us pass as we staggered our way over to the beds.

Dixter crashed onto one and closed his eyes, falling unconscious. I fell onto a bed and closed my eyes, Alka at my bedside. My vision darkened, the lights fading into nothingness.

The next thing I knew, Chief was sitting on my bed. Her warm caramel eyes looked me over with concern, her hair cascading down her shoulder like a waterfall. The bags under her eyes seemed worse.

I moved a little and realized that I had been changed into white hospital clothes. It was odd, how the medical floor was so opposite of the dark theme of HQ.

She stared at my face, her brows knit in a concerned way. I opened my eyes fully, getting used to the bright lights. The first thing I did was look for Dixter. I turned my head to the right, seeing him to the bed next to me.

He looked pale, but okay. He'd also been changed into the white medical clothes. His chest moved regularly. I breathed a sigh of relief, just glad to see him alive.

Alka stood to my left, clean and in fresh clothes. Her hair looked brushed and wet, as if she'd just showered. She looked different. Better.

She had a light in her eyes, a shine in their youth. But there was something else in her new appearance. She looked alive. Like being abandoned wasn't how she was supposed to be. But then again, who was born to be forgotten?

She placed a hand on my arm, her youth shining. Her words were soft and gentle, as caring as a younger sister. "Comment ça va, Feckter?" How are you?

I smiled at her. "Bien, merci." Good, thank you.

She had said my name with a French accent, changing the end of my sharp name to a more welcoming "Fecktier." She said the name like I would say "feck-tea-air." The French flair made me feel honored, like my name was a gift to her. She'd added her own touch to make it ours instead.

But who gave her my name?

I looked at Chief, my tone changing. "I found another orphan."

She grinned like a proud mother. "Yes, I can see that." She paused and looked at her. "We've been talking. I've taken a liking to her."

"Well that's good. I was planning on keeping her." I would have looked for her parents, but being orphaned or abandoned was just so common in Kistra. I would have been shocked if her parents even cared if she was alive. It was depressing, but it was just the harsh reality of massive cities.

"Ah. I see," She looked me in the eye. "But how are you feeling?"

I cringed. My legs. "Bad. What did the medics say?"

"Your legs aren't sprained, but they're going to hurt for a while. Your shard wound has, miraculously, been healing unnaturally rapidly."

"Or Color Central healed it."

Chief gave me an odd look. "Excuse me?"

I told her the story of how I'd thought my leg wound was healing, and when I checked it after I woke up tonight, and I was right. How I'd thought just being in the color haven had healed me.

She tilted her head. "That's very strange. But it.. Kind of makes sense." She looked me at me directly. "We need to talk later."

I nodded. "Can I see Dix?"

In a split second, she lost all traces of seriousness and smiled like an excited matchmaking teenage girl. "Of course. Go see your boyfriend."

I somehow had it in me to blush. I found the strength to lift the covers and stumble over to the next bed. He looked like he was sleeping uncomfortably, his resting face looked troubled. His forehead was scrunched up, resulting in an expression of pain.

"Braz," I whispered, so no one else could hear. "It's me."

His closed eyes twitched. "Grace?" He mumbled.

I smiled at his movement. I spoke softly to him, touching his face. "Right here."

"Feckter," He opened his eyes and looked at me. "You saved my life."

"I know." I leaned down and kissed his cheek. "You gonna be okay?"

"With you by my side." He turned to fully face me. "My arm's broken. I can tell that much. My legs aren't doin' that great either."

I sighed. "I want you to heal. Get some rest. I'll get you something to eat."

I stood to go, but he grabbed my wrist. He jerked me towards him and grabbed my shoulders. Dixter kissed me deeply, letting go just as quickly. He spoke softly. "I love you."

I took a step back, a little breathless. "I love you too."

"Awww!" Chief exclaimed from behind me.

I whipped around. "Mom!" I yelled jokingly.

Chief looked shocked, her eyes wide. Like she was honored and surprised at the same time. Before she could say anything, someone burst into the medical floor.

"Where my homies at?!" Sytra exclaimed, her frizzy hair going in every direction. She'd changed for her date tonight, with a nice blouse and jeggings. She wore some bright orange jewelry, her earrings matching her necklace. I guess she'd gone all out.

I smiled widely, glad to see my best friend. "Here, Sy!"

She turned abruptly towards my voice. "Feckter!" She ran towards me and tackled me, embracing me so strongly that I couldn't breathe for a minute. "Sy." I gasped.

"Oh right, sorry!" She pulled away and looked at me apologetically, then glanced behind me. "Dix!"

He smiled in an exhausted way, clearly unprepared for her energy. "Hi, Sytra." He croaked.

She just smiled and hugged him, leaning down awkwardly. "How are you two?" She pulled away.

"Good. Dix broke his arm though. And we both hurt our legs pretty badly." I said casually.

"Oh. And we found an orphan." I paused and sat down on Dix's bed. "Alka?" She poked her head out, revealing herself to my best friend.

Sytra looked the orphan over, gaping at me. "You did all that in one night?"

I just laughed her off. "Nah, it's chill. You got a date in one night, right?"

She shook her head. "Getting yourself a boyfriend is so much different." She eyed Dixter. "But somehow you managed to do that too."

Heat filled my senses. Suddenly the medical clothes were too tight. I looked over. He was beet-red and confused. "Wha..? Did something happen while I was out?"

I laughed lightly, glancing over at him. He caught my gaze, steadily holding my eyes. He whispered only to me. "Are we dating?"

I only smiled, aware of our audience. I whispered back, my eyes never leaving his. "Do you want to be?"

"Yes?" He breathed.

"Good." I leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Me too."

"YESSS!" Chief and Sytra yelled and shot up at the same time, alerting everyone on level 4. All eyes turned to our two beds. The two matchmakers sat down on our beds, suddenly embarrassed.

"I knew it! I've been waiting for years." Sytra whined, dragging on the last word.

"You think that's bad? I put them together when they were still training!" Chief complained.

"Guys." I looked at both of them, stopping their little fangirl moment. "Dix broke his arm. We should let him rest."

Chief stood, waving her hand. "Of course, of course. All of you should be getting back to work anyways. And Sytra," She paused and looked at her. "Get yourself a man. I've been thinking Colves."

"Who?" Dix asked, watching Chief leave. She took the elevator up, presumably back up to her office.

Sytra flushed, waving her hands like it was no big deal. "The boy I met up with a few hours ago."

"Oh." He turned a little red, embarrassed to have brought it up.

I looked for my phone, but it was in my clothes. "Hey Sy, do you know what they do with our old clothes?"

"Bin under your bed. I think they just toss 'em in there because they don't want to throw weapons away."

"Makes sense," I said, grabbing my bin. I pulled my phone out of one of my jacket's pockets. I checked the time. "Almost 5am. Have we really been asleep for that long?"

Sytra sighed, looking exhausted. "Yes. And I've been worried for every second of it."

"Well. We're not dead."

She smiled. "Yeah. You're not dead."

Out of nowhere, the medical floor's elevator doors opened, and Chief's loud voice rang out. "We have an agent down! I need medics now!" She was carrying a limp girl.

Agent Delstrie. She was a friend of Sytra, she lived on our dorm floor. I knew her a little.

"Oh no." Sytra breathed, rushing over to Chief. I followed her at the heels.

We both watched Chief carefully put her down on a bed. She didn't look too good. Her v-neck shirt was stained red, and it was quickly spreading. Her hair was an unkempt mess. Her color was clearly deep magenta; her clothes were fringed in it. But the blood continued to seep into her clothes, eventually covering all of her color.

Medics rushed all about, trying to find her pulse, pressing into her wounds to stop the blood loss, checking her vitals. We stood behind the frenzy, scared for her life.

One of the medical staff exclaimed, "I can't find her pulse!"

Sytra started to shake next to me. I put an arm around her, and she buried her face into my shoulder.

"She's lost too much blood!" Another yelled.

"Medics. Is she alive?" Chief commanded, her voice breaking on the last word. She seemed so invincible all the time, but the act was beginning to drop. For the first time, I saw fear in her eyes.

"I.. No, Chief."

"No?" She breathed, taking steps back. She turned away, consumed with shock and grief.

The medics slowly backed away, aware that their work was fruitless. Some took their gloves off and wiped their eyes.

"Not Del." Sy cried, kneeling at her bedside. She began to weep into the sheets. The medics turned away.

I directed my voice towards Chief's back. "Where did you find her?" I asked her softly, rubbing Sytra's back.

"Inside HQ." She said, her voice hitching.

"What?!" I exclaimed, alarming some medics around me. Sy stiffened under my touch. I hushed my voice, using a sharp tone. "Chief, do we have a spy?"

"My worst fear has come true." She looked me in the eye, a tear streaking down her face. "We have several."

----

"Delstrie." Sytra said under her breath. "Oh my god."

I said nothing, rubbing her shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry." I whispered, praying that my words were enough.

The medics had said that I had healed enough to return to my dorm. I had grabbed my clothes, careful to not let anything fall out. I watched Chief take Alka to her new dorm on level 41, one below mine. I said goodbye to Braz and left, holding Sytra. She was a puddle of tears, and I was helping her back to our dorm. I held her with one arm and held my folded-over clothes in the other. We stood in the elevator, Sytra's soft cries echoing in the small space.

We reached our floor. The elevator's pleasant chime seemed empty now, it's ring now hollow. The weight of a B.L.A.D.E. agent's death seemed to be affecting HQ down to the core.

I just couldn't believe that we had watched an agent die. In HQ. Sure, mishaps on really dangerous missions happened. People died.

Just not like this. Not inside headquarters.

Because that meant we had spies. And Chief had said "We have several."

God, I hope no one else gets hit. We're going to war, and we don't know when. We need as many agents as we could get. We couldn't afford to lose anyone.

We stepped out onto our floor. I saw Xielra at the end of the hallway, walking towards her dorm.

My eyes flickered to her, remembering what I knew about her. She was an albino, which was extremely rare. She was the only albino I was aware of, the only albino B.L.A.D.E. agent. Because of her condition, Xielra's colorless hair was platinum blonde, a silky white. She kept it at a bob cut, presumably to not get in the way of her missions. I guess anyone as well-trained as her didn't have time for taking care of long hair.

She always wore a bycocket hat with a white swan feather tucked into its side. She wore clunky black clothes that opposed her shockingly white skin. Her black jeans seemed to have a multitude of weapons hidden inside its many secret pockets. Her jacket was cut and jet black, with a bit of a fringe and a bad girl vibe. She wore black, fingerless gloves that were similar to mine.

Her skin was pale but flawless, her face angular and sharp. Albinism meant that she couldn't see very well, as she didn't have properly formed eyes. She lacked the pigment.

Chief had pitied the young, helpless, orphaned albino. She sent a request to the labs to produce a set of high-tech glasses that allowed her to see. They got to work, and after months of testing and recrafting, they managed to make a pair.

I wondered if she could see better than the average person. I suppose she wouldn't know.

After that, Xielra and Chief had grown very close. Maybe even closer than her and I. Chief quickly became her protective mama bear. If anyone hurt Xielra, they'd have to deal with Chief herself.

I've never seen her without them on. They were covered in wires and electrical work, and had multiple lenses that constantly moved. They had lines on the side that glowed.

She didn't have any color, both as an agent and as a person. She was black and white, a stranger in an agency of color.

It was always a little unsettling, that she had no color. Everyone else had an identity, something they could come home to their dorms and relax to. A color that represented who they were. Something to hold on to.

She lacked these things. I saw it in her face.

I wondered what she was interested in. Firing guns, maybe.

As far as I knew, she had no friends. She often took missions alone, supplied with enough weapons to always reign victorious. I've been told that she's our best agent.

I gave her the side-eye as she walked past. Out of everyone I knew, she seemed to be the most suspicious. Lone wolf with no friends, really close to Chief, odd one out? Recipe for a spy.

But something distracted me. The way she walked, the way she held herself. She seemed like she had all the confidence in the world.

Either she really was our best agent, or she was extremely comfortable in her enemy's HQ.

All of these thoughts rushed through my head as I walked Sytra to our dorm. I poked through my clothes, looking for the dorm keys. I pulled them out of an inside inside pocket and unlocked the door. I helped Sy to her room to settle down, figuring she needed some time to herself.

I needed some too. As an introvert, I've been lacking a lot of energy recently.

I opened the door to my room, its glowing teal features a welcome sight. My artwork hung on the walls, welcoming its creator home. I smiled, just glad to be back alive.

I tossed my clothes onto my dresser, and they landed perfectly on its surface. Just an agent's aim.

It's been a long day, and my soul needed some peace. I headed to the bathroom and filled a stained cup with water. I walked over to my desk, pulling my only sketchbook out of a drawer. I set the cup down, then pulled out a pencil and some paint tubes.

Before I knew it, I had sketched a beautiful piece. A woman. My mother.

I'd given her my features, a perfect face. Long, flowing hair. Soft eyes. Welcoming arms.

All she needs is a color.

I scanned over my paints, looking for the right color. My eyes landed on a deep purple.

I felt a tug on my inner self, a feeling so deep inside of me I wasn't even sure I'd felt it. But there it was, calling out to that particular color.

Who was I to deny my soul?

I picked up the paint tube and fingered it, wallowing in the thought of my mother.

Who was she? How did she die?

I only assumed that she died because no one had ever told me otherwise. Besides, I'd rather imagine that she wasn't on Riedhak anymore than believe that she had abandoned me. It had become the core belief of everything that I'd ever thought about my mother.

She's dead. She has to be.

I unscrewed the deep purple and picked up a paint brush from my desk organizer. It held a few other brushes, but this one was my favorite. Perfect size and stained. Exactly what I needed.

I used the purple and painted strokes for her face, darker lines for shadows and lighter ones for highlights. I'd mastered this skill over many years. People's headshots were my go-to.

I heard a knock on the front door. My heart stopped for a second, the image of Delstrie's body flashing through my mind. I picked up my knife from my pile of clothes and went to open the door.

I grabbed the handle and opened it slowly, trusting my instincts. My blood pounded through the back of my skull. I slowly opened the door, watching for a face.

It was Chief. "Feckter?"

I sagged in relief, opening the door all the way. "Yes, Chief?"

"Remember when I said we should talk?"

I recalled her saying something like that just before I saw Dix. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Can I come in?"

"Of course."

She looked around my dorm. She eyed Sytra's door, hearing the sobs through the wall. Her face asked the unsaid question.

"She'll be fine. I've never seen her like this before."

She nodded. "Let's get further away from the front door."

Away from the ears of spies."My room?" I asked.

"Sure."

I opened the door and proudly showed off my room, grandly sweeping my arm like a polite doorman. I'd learned it from Dixter.

She stood there in shock for a moment. "Your art is.. Incredible." She looked around at the walls. "You write songs?"

I nodded. "I do."

"Very creative."

"Thank you."

She walked in, and I followed. She looked around, then noticed my desk. "Did you paint that?"

I nodded. "A few minutes ago. I had just finished when you knocked."

"It.. It looks exactly like her." She froze, and if I saw correctly, began to tremble.

"Who?"

"Your mother."

I took a step back. Everything got quiet. "You knew her?"

"She was my roommate." She looked up at me with glistening eyes. She looked directly at my face and whispered softly. "We were closer than sisters."

"So.. she is dead." I turned away from her, my face heating up. I imagined what it would be like to lose Sytra. Tears threatened to spill over. "My mother is dead."

"Feckter.. I came to tell you the real story."

"You did?" I asked, my voice shaking. Finally, I faced her.

I collected myself with a deep breath. "Please, have a seat."

I sat on my bed, she pulled out the desk chair, still looking at my painting. "You're an amazing artist."

"Thank you."

She sighed, and began telling the story. "The Chief before me, Grelslek, paired me with your mother. She was dark violet, and I was light green. When I became Chief, my color became black, like all the other Chiefs before me."

She sniffed. "And then one day.. Grelslek assigned Martyline to her last mission, to scout out M.A.S.K. HQ as a shadow. She wasn't allowed to make her presence known. We guessed that somehow she got discovered, and was.. Killed." She choked on the last word.

I tilted my head down, embarrassed to see the Chief of B.L.A.D.E. crying. "And what of my father?"

"Martyline loved your father more than anything. Welster loved his family till the end of his life. He was killed a year after you were born." Her voice hitched. I looked away.

"Your mother was heartbroken, but she didn't let that stop her. The bond between you and your mother was unbreakable. She raised you inside of B.L.A.D.E. She left Riedhak when you were six. I took you under my wing, and kept a careful but distant watch over you. I trained you and led you to believe you were an orphan. I doubt you remember anything about her."

It was true. I didn't even have a wisp of a memory. I'm eighteen years old. How could I remember?

And yet somehow, I'd managed to paint an exact portrait of her. In her color, no less.

I just dismissed it as whispers of my soul. It had to be some kind of coincidence, right? Or was I just going insane?

Unless it was the same magic that had healed me in Color Central.

But that seems impossible.

I shook my head, completely confused. Doubts crept into my mind. There's no magic in Kistra. It's a sprawling, cold, concrete city of loss.

My thoughts continued to jump around. It's been so long.

Twelve years ago. The day my mother died.

"M.A.S.K. killed both of my parents." I stood and looked Chief in the eye. "I want vengeance."

She smiled through the tears. "That's good, agent. We're going to need as much fire as we can get. We're going to war."

"I want to see M.A.S.K. fall. They've taken my family from me." I clenched my fists and ground my teeth.

"Agent, you have to focus that emotion. Recall your anger, your loss. Think of the gaping hole that M.A.S.K. left in you. You've tried to fill it with friends and a boyfriend, but it's not the same.

"Family has no replacement, Feckter. Believe me when I tell you that you will get revenge."

Chief looked me in the face, teary eye to teary eye. She put her hands on my shoulders. "You have a fire that I've seen in no other agent. Use it. Take the anger, the fuel of your loss, and set M.A.S.K. on fire. If anyone's going to win this war, it'll be you."

I looked up at her with wide eyes. "Am I truly one of B.L.A.D.E.'s top agents?"

"Agent Feckter, I've watched you. I've observed your training. I've seen you fight. I've had eyes on every mission I've ever sent you on." She looked down at me, her face full of emotion. "You're our best."

I cried into her chest, and she held onto me tightly. We stood there, consumed in thoughts of my mother, just holding each other. I soaked in her words, and every wall I'd built up fell. Every cold feeling melted, and I let everything loose.

"Chief?" Sytra asked from the doorway. She looked more collected, the emotion finally flushed out of her. Alka's face poked out from behind the door. I guess Chief had told her my dorm number.

Chief looked up at Sy, her face awash with tears. "Yes, agent?"

She glanced down at Alka. "Oh. I see. Hello, child. Have you come to say goodnight?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed, running to Chief. She wrapped her nine-year-old arms around us both.

"What happened?"

"I was telling Feckter about her mother. Do you want to hear too?"

"Yes, please." She sat down in the middle of my room. We all joined her on the floor, a ring of abandoned people.

Alka jumped onto the ground, sitting cross-legged. She bounced around, somehow full of energy. She was the only one with liveliness in our little circle.

"Tell me a story!" Her childish eyes shone. She acted like a six-year-old, and I loved her for it. Her energy was something we all needed.

Chief smiled, wiping her eyes. I wiped mine as well, trying to appear put-together. "This one's about the Colored."

My ears perked up at the name. The same feeling I'd felt earlier when I painted my mother returned. A tugging at my soul, a deep-rooted feeling that made me want to listen with every atom in my body.

"The Colored?" Alka asked. "So.. Not like Sytra?"

Chief smiled. "No, child. These people were of a whole other kind. Humanoid, even."

"The Colored, they were a tribe of another kind. The natives of Riedhak. They held color deep in their souls, it was the very fiber of their bodies. They could control it with their hands, they could grow the plants of the land. The Colored, they ignited the land. Everything shone with vibrance when they used their color. I've heard rumors that the ferns would unfurl and reach towards them when they walked past, that the willows would glow and sway when they drew near. That the very earth would consume their footsteps, and the waves would engulf their touch. Riedhak was meant for the Colored, and the Colored were made for Riedhak.

"The two were inseparable. Neither could live without the other. The Colored ignited the wildlife with color, and in turn, Riedhak would provide all that they needed. These people would grow the forest trees out with color and create houses in their trunks, they would light the caves of crystals and sleep among the underwater streams." Chief spoke with her hands, gesturing this way and that for each word.

"They were a people of love, as well. Everyone of the Colored knew that mother-daughter love was one of the strongest loves to ever exist." She looked directly at me when she spoke, telling me with her eyes to take the words to heart. She was telling me with her expression that the spirit of the Colored had helped me remember my mother. She said these things without words, just asking me to feel it within myself.

And the thing was, I did feel it. I felt the spirit of the Colored inside me. It was the core of who I was. I didn't have to question it anymore.

Chief's face hardened, and the story took a turn.

"But the beauty of life would not last forever. Eventually, the humans came. They wanted a city, they wanted money, and they wanted it everywhere. They broke the fields, tore down the forests, dammed the streams. Built city block after city block, cement at every turn. Hundreds of years later, and they've built Kistra, the City of a Thousand Buildings."

"What happened to the Colored?" Sytra asked, leaning forward and intently listening. "Where did they go?"

Chief smiled at her interest. "Some fled to the mountains. Others perished at the hands of the humans. But still others," Chief paused, a gleam in her eye. "The others adapted to live with the humans. They were so close, the two species. The only difference was the colors of their bodies and their natural abilities. Soon enough, the Colored blended with the humans, merging into their society.

"B.L.A.D.E.'s color is a mere glimpse at what the Colored had. Nonetheless, I assign each agent their own unique color to match what I see in them. Or they discover it on their own, and I accept it as theirs. I keep these traditions to honor the true natives of our land, the Colored of Riedhak.

"Some say that the Colored disappeared forever. Others say that they never existed at all. Still others say that they live on to this day.

"But most say we'll never know." Chief finished, looking at all of us. "This is what I've been told. My mother's mother's mother told her. Hispanic stories are well preserved."

Without realizing it, we'd all leaned forward, drinking in every word. We all sat back, our minds somewhere else. Where the Colored still lived, when their color was plenty.

I froze, a thought hitting me. "Does.. Does this explain what happened at Color Central?"

"Feckter," Chief faced me and held my gaze. "Do you realize what this means?"

"Was my mother Colored?"

"I think you know the answer."

She was right. Every tug of my soul, every hint at my past, everything was starting to make sense. Why I'd felt so relaxed at Color Central. Why it had healed me. Why my inner self led me to my mother's color. How I was able to sketch an exact portrait of my mother.

"I'm part-Colored." I said, the words a mere whisper.

"Yes, agent."

Sytra gaped at me. "You're.. Like them? The people that could do crazy nature stuff? That could light up plants?"

"That's you?" Alka pointed at me, her childish behavior returned. "You can do all that?"

"No, no." I waved my hands outwards and looked around, a little embarrassed. "I've never done anything like that before."

"You can do anything!" Alka exclaimed with energy.

I laughed at her belief in me. "You really think I can do anything, Alka?"

"Absolutely!" She beamed, her eyes shining.

I grinned. "Tu es trop mignon."You're too cute.

She just smiled wider.

"Alright, storytime's over. All of you, get to bed." Chief stood up and waved her hand at all of us, acting like a mother.

"Aw, nooo!" Alka whined, her six-year-old personality back. "Can I stay up a little longer? Please?"

But Chief only smiled. "Fine. But only if you go back to your dorm. Maybe you can hang out with Beldriss?"

Must be her dorm mate. I thought, standing up.

"But she's all baby blue. That's so soft." Alka huffed. "She's kinda boring."

I looked over at Chief. "What do you think her color is?"

"Her energy reminds me of pink."

Alka sharply turned to Chief, bouncing on her toes. "Pink! It's so cute!"

"She is a little pink French girl, isn't she." I acknowledged. I asked Alka. "What do you think?"

"I'll be an assez rose." The French seemed natural on her tongue.

I smiled. "A pretty pink."

She beamed. "Oui."

"So it's settled. Our little nine-year-old B.L.A.D.E.-agent-in-training already has a color." Chief said with a proud tone. Then she switched back to Mom Mode.

"Now it's bedtime!" Chief said sternly.

Alka turned to me, a sad look written all over her face. "Okay. Bye Fecktier." The French flair was back.

She hugged me, and I kissed the top of her head. "Bon nuit, ma sœur." Goodnight, my sister.

She looked up at me with her big eyes and spoke in a wonder-filled tone. "Feckter, my big sister."

I smiled, and she bounced out of the room, taking all of the life with her. The two teens and the Chief of B.L.A.D.E. remained, feeling completely drained. An empty feeling choked the room with the energetic nine-year-old gone.

"Well," Chief started. "You two should get to bed. A lot happened tonight."

Sytra yawned from the doorway. "Night, Chief. Ni-ni, Feckter."

"Night, Sy." I replied, watching her return to her room.

Chief regarded me before she left. "You've worked hard, agent. Take tomorrow off. Hang out with Dix. You need it after a week of hard missions. Especially after all this news."

I smiled tiredly. "Thanks Chief. You need sleep too."

She nodded. "I'm about to drop. Night, Agent Feckter."

"Night, Chief of B.L.A.D.E." She smiled and left, crossing the living room. She shut the front door quietly.

I took a deep breath, then closed my door. I leaned my forehead against it, just taking everything in.

God, I need sleep. But first, I needed food.

I wandered out to the kitchen, then opened our cupboards. I scanned the selection, finally deciding on a bowl of cereal. I pulled out a bowl and spoon, setting them on the counter. I grabbed the milk and opened the cereal box. A strange scent was coming off of it, but I barely noticed. I was so tired, my eyes were barely focusing.

I poured it out, the little pieces clinking into the bowl. I poured the milk, the white liquid spilling into the bowl like a waterfall. I lifted the spoon to my mouth, then I heard a voice.

"Feckter?" Sytra called. "Can you come here for a minute?"

"Yeah!" I replied, setting the spoon down. "Coming." I left the kitchen and went into Sy's room.

Sytra's room was electric, with an orange circle pattern on the walls. Her bed was bright neon orange, the dark gray sheets tossed around. Her bright orange electric guitar sat on a stand in the corner. It was well used, its vibrance slightly faded. Posters of her favorite famous theater productions were slapped up in random places.

The place had modern lights installed in the ceiling, but she rarely turned them on. She had her lava lamp, along with a bunch of neon orange lightning bolt stickers scattered on every surface. A light sensor could turn them on whenever she wasn't sleeping. Orange lights shaped like large spheres hung from the ceiling.

She had sheet music for her electric guitar on the walls. She also had it collected in a sloppy notebook at her desk. It, too, was covered in orange items, from her sheet music journal to the pens she used to scrawl in it. Her closet was messy, with bright pieces of orange clothing spilling out everywhere. Her clothes were somewhat hung up, with most falling off the hangers. She had small, bright orange shelves hung up, displaying her old guitar picks and theater awards.

"What you need?"

"Can you hold the closet pole so I can put it back up?" She asked, throwing her clothes on the bed.

I laughed, my voice tired. "Was your closet just that tired of your mess?"

I smirked. "It just," I paused dramatically, spreading my arms to annoy her. "Fell."

She shrugged it off. "Hold the end, please."

We got it straight, and she started hanging up her clothes.

"Really?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. "Is Sytrista Grayswon actually organizing her closet?"

She huffed with her hands on her hips, her exhaustion showing. I'd forgotten that she'd stayed up worrying about us while we were back on level 4.

"Yes, Grace. I actually am." She paused and gave me the side-eye. "Your perfectly organized room inspired me."

"Aw, really? Thanks." I said without sarcasm, actually glad to be an inspiration. "You good? Can I go eat?"

She waved me away. "Yes, yes. Go eat."

I started towards the door, but Sy exclaimed, "Wait!"

I turned around. "Yes?"

She looked me dead in the eye. "That cereal sounded good. Bone apple teeth."

"You're an insult to the French language."

"I know." She looked down and continued gathering her clothes. "Close the door on your way out."

I smiled and left, glad to have her as my best friend. I returned to my cereal and grabbed my spoon, dipping it into the soaked floating goodness. I lifted the spoon to my mouth, then froze.

That's when I snapped awake.

The milk was turning green, but only slightly. Am I seeing things?

The cereal started fizzing, tiny white bubbles forming around the pieces.

I set my spoon down, fully awake. Well, this is odd.

The bubbles confirmed it. There were chemicals involved.

I quickly turned and poured the whole thing down the sink. I put the milk away and set the bowl and spoon down in the sink. I would have thrown the entire box of cereal away, but then I realized I'd need it for evidence later. I brought it to my room and shut the door.

I grabbed a hoodie and some shorts from my sleek dresser and went into the bathroom. I did my hair, changed, and brushed my teeth. I came out a few minutes later and turned off the lights. I got into bed and pulled the sheets around me.

I stared at the wall, my exhaustion forgotten.

Someone just tried to poison me.