Chapter Fourteen

Braz and I crept closer to Uilter's body, and examined it as best we could without getting too close.

"He's completely dead. And he has been for.. I'd say two days." Dixter said from beside me, crouching down.

"Sure. It doesn't look pretty. This knife wound looks about that old." I nudged the body with my foot. No reaction.

"I don't want to stare at him for much longer. He's dead, and we should report it to Chief."

Dix nodded. "We'll tell Chief when we get home. But the real question is who did it."

"Yeah." I turned and walked back towards the street, away from the body's sights and smells. "Who killed Agent Uilter?"

My first guess is Agent Delstrie, for obvious reasons. She probably took him, she probably killed him. But why would she take him to a M.A.S.K. bar?

"One guess." Braz's voice shook me out of my thoughts. We made sure the coast was clear, then grappled to the nearest tall building. We zipped by, a mere smudge of a shadow against the lighting of the street lamps. The two of us flew through the night air, unhooking and landing smoothly. Once I touched the roof of the high rise, I looked towards the horizon.

Gray fluffy beasts hung in the sky like an unstoppable, comforting force. Clouds are coming. I hope it rains.

"One guess.." I turned to Dix. "Agent Delstrie."

"Mm hm." His gaze swept the city. He seemed to be processing everything.

"Well, it seems probable. But I don't want to jump to conclusions," I said, casually leaning on the concrete beside me. "I don't see a better lead."

"Who else would it be?" He agreed.

"Right." I looked up towards the night sky, and sighed. I wonder if I'll ever see the stars in Kistra.

Dixter came up behind me, and started rubbing my back. "You okay?"

I released a breath through my lips. "Yeah. I see dead bodies all the time."

He froze for a minute, understanding written all over his face. "You were the one that converted him."

I turned to him. "That's why it hurts."

Whatever relationship Agent Uilter and I had, I would miss it. He seemed honest when he spoke of wanting to fight for the black side, the B.L.A.D.E. side. Losing him would be painful, even if I barely knew him. I was the bridge between his M.A.S.K. side and his new side, the one that wanted to die fighting for freedom.

"He meant a lot to you, didn't he?" Braz asked from behind me.

"No.. but he still meant something."

A barely-noticeable breath of relief escaped him, but I heard it. He truly wanted to be the only one I wanted. He wanted to be the only one I cared about.

I can have other people in my life. Like Sy, Alka.. But his jealousy came from my male acquaintances. Silvsley. Colves. And it used to be Uilter.

I hope his jealousy never overcomes him.

It was bad enough seeing his behavior around Silvsley. He just didn't like that I was around other guys. I wasn't sure if I found it flattering or overprotective.

He probably just cares a lot about me.

I had to ask. "So, Dix."

He came up beside me, and we touched elbows as we gazed over the cityscape of Kistra. He spoke in a quiet tone. "Yeah?"

"Are you jealous of Silvsley?"

He stared down into the night traffic for several moments before responding. A car honked, and a person yelled out a rude reply. "I.. yeah. Maybe."

I smiled softly at him. "It's okay. I was just wondering why you get jealous of every boy I talk to."

He put his arm around me. "Well, maybe I just like spending time with you. And I get a little upset when other boys take you from me." He nuzzled into my neck to prove a point.

I laughed and nudged his head away. "No, Lover Boy. Not yet. Why do you get upset?"

"Well.." He pulled away and started counting on his fingers. "Number one, you're amazing, number two, you're amazing, number three, I don't want anything to happen to you, and number four, I don't like it when other boys get to talk to you and I don't."

I breathed through my lips. "Well. We're bound together by the universe, I don't think any other relationship would work."

"But still. I don't like other boys by you."

I put my hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, we'll drop it." I didn't mean to have that kind of tone, but it just came out like that.

I scanned the cars below us, thinking of a new topic. A voice whispered in my head, You never found out what his secret is.

I glanced up. Is now the best time?

The voice responded. It's fine. You want to know, don't you?

I sighed internally. Yes. I do.

"Hey Braz?" He turned his head and shifted his hands.

"When do you think you'll be ready to tell me about your secret?"

His eyes turned downcast, and he avoided my sharp gaze. The more I thought about it, the more I needed to know. What are you keeping from me?

"I.. don't know. When I feel like the time is right."

"And when will that be?" My tone got a little sharper, but that wasn't my intention. "When will the time be right for you?"

I huffed and turned away. "When will it be enough for you? Are you waiting for a sign or something?"

"No! No, I just.." He ran his hands through his hair. The decision was clearly messing with his thoughts. He looked like his feelings were pieced together by someone else, and he didn't know what to do with them.

"I just need more time."

"Time for what? Time for someone to tell you that the time is right, that you can finally stop leaving me in the dark? That I'm finally ready to be told?"

His voice was rising, and I saw his angry side start to emerge. I did nothing to stop it.

"I'm tired of being left in the dark, Dixter." I spat the words like a cobra spitting venom.

Braz started pulling his hair in frustration. "Listen, I don't know when the time will be right. All I know is that it's not now."

"So it's not now? When will it be?" My voice was rising too, unintentionally. "We can't understand each other if we constantly keep things from each other."

He was getting a little red in the face. His irritation was building. "I know, I know! It's just, this thing.. it might wreck our relationship.."

I froze, and started shooting daggers with my eyes. "Dix! That's why it's so much more important to tell me!"

"I know! And that's why it's so frustrating!" He couldn't even look me in the eye.

My voice got even sharper. "So you're afraid of wrecking what we have?! Is this what this is all about?"

I narrowed my eyes and threw out my arms in exasperation. "You know the more you keep from me, the more you wreck what we have?"

"Yes." He growled. "I know. That's why I hate doing it."

"So why can't you tell me? Timing, is that all? And it'll destroy our relationship?" I yelled at him. It felt like I wasn't myself anymore.

He spoke in low tones. "I can't tell you because it might change everything that you think about me."

I stopped moving, and tried to take everything in. The wind blew around us. "So.. it'll change everything?"

He nodded, the angry lines in his face starting to disappear. "That's what I'm afraid of."

I focused on a single point on the building across from us. He took a shaky breath. "It might take you away from me."

I could only stare, and the only sound between us was my shallow breathing.

"I have to go." He didn't look back as he flicked out his grappling hook, or when he jumped off the side of the building. He didn't look back when he landed on the next high rise, and steadily aimed for the one across the street. He didn't look back when he fired again, in the direction of HQ.

I put my head in my hands, still leaning against the concrete. I had a feeling this would come eventually.

It's all your fault. You provoked his angry side, and now he's gone.

I shoved the thought away. You have no right to say that. He's keeping something big from me, and apparently, it's worse than I thought.

But what could it be?

Part of me didn't want to find out. It would, according to Dix, ruin what the two of us share. It would change everything.

I gripped the sides of my head, trying to sort out my thoughts. But they didn't seem like they wanted to be sorted.

What am I supposed to do? Wait 'till he's ready?

I spent a couple more moments there, just waiting for my heart to stop pounding and my mind to sort itself out. I searched my mind for an emotion, and the only thing that came back was confusion.

I flicked out my grappling hook, and shot towards HQ. I made sure to avoid the high rise that Dix took. I didn't know why, but I just wanted to take a different path than him.

As I flew through the air, I realized just how terribly I would sleep tonight.

The president of M.A.S.K. ran his fingers along his desk, trying not to erupt into flames. His anger had been building since the rumor of war began. All of his agent's extensive training was finally going to be put to a new use: War. They were going to be soldiers. His army, to defeat the agency of the one he used to love.

Thinking of Brianna did more damage to him than he cared to admit, but he did it nonetheless. He knew he was spiralling downwards into madness, but he could barely control himself any more. Destruction just seemed to follow his words, and his hand just seemed to naturally crush his opponents. If anyone deserved to win this war, it was him.

It was him that had been planning years in advance for this, it was his army that he'd been building to defend himself and everything he'd built, it was him that took in orphans to train them to become white agents. It was him that was doing all the work. This victory was meant for him.

He knew that training would be less difficult the more he did it, and the more agents he gathered, the more his rule would be secured. His age was only increasing, and he knew what he had to do before his dying day.

He had to pass his legacy on.

"Agents!" He screeched. Immediately, two personal agents came in to be given commands.

"I need you to go to my windsword operation. I've received word that our little band of heroes in black are preparing to target this location next. Is this correct?"

The one on the right nodded. "As far as our intelligence allows, yes sir, that is correct."

He never bothered to learn their names. "I need you to go there and, uh, extract my favorite agent. I also need you to send our weakest agents there to replace our normal cycle. I need these black operatives to believe that they've taken the windsword operation, and that it was easy. I need the B.L.A.D.E. agents to believe that winning this war will be easy. Understand?"

"Yes." The guard on the right nodded.

"I asked you if you understood!" The president's voice echoed in the expansive room of his office.

"Yes.. sir." The guard's voice wavered slightly when he said it.

"Good." His gaze shifted to the other one. "And you. Is there anything new from the spy network that I should know about?"

"You received the newest B.L.A.D.E. war plan. That they would attack as a small group via the air vents."

"Good, good. If the captain of the spy network gets any new information, you are to tell me immediately. Understand?"

"Yes sir." The agent on the left had learned from the first.

"Now go! Leave my office and don't disturb me unless it's urgent."

"Y-Yes sir!" One exclaimed, quickly turning around. The other followed suit, and the president didn't relax until both doors closed.

He sighed to himself. If only he wasn't so effective, or efficient, maybe he didn't need to do the things that he did to Brianna's agency.

But no. He couldn't think like that. Everything he was doing, every spy that he placed, every operation that he conducted, every agent that he took in, it was all to establish a dictatorship. He needed absolute control and enough power to get what he wanted. He needed to control the nocturnal side of Kistra.

And that meant living long enough to keep his rule among the most feared in Kistra. That meant continuing what he'd already established. That meant passing on his legacy, so that the next generation would have the same status of power that he does now.

And that meant bringing back his son.

I woke up the next morning feeling like I'd never be more mixed up in my life. I was still internally confused, still upset, still so frustrated. And my prediction from last night was correct. I did not sleep well.

My somewhat-argument with Dix last night was still fresh in my mind. It was like the stress of it never quite left my mind. Sleep didn't help me escape my reality of confusion.

It wasn't that Dixter had a secret. Everybody has them.

It was that he wouldn't tell me.

I got out of bed and went over to my dresser. Our conversation kept replaying in my mind.

It'll change everything that you think about me. I pulled a shirt out. It will wreck our relationship. I brought out a pair of black jeans. I don't know when the time will be right. All I know is that it's not now.

I slammed the drawer shut. Maybe he's cheating on me.

Maybe he's a drug dealer. Maybe he's a murderer. Maybe he has a life-threatening disease. Maybe he–

"Stop." I told myself aloud. "Think clearly, or drop it."

"You good, Feckter?" Sytra's voice asked me from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" I took a deep breath. I glanced down and realized my hands were clenched around my clothes. "I'm fine. Just sorting things out."

Her concerned voice got much closer, and I realized she was just outside my door. "Well, let me know if you need anything."

I smiled at her sympathy. "Will do."

I got dressed, the routine a haze. I sorted out my weapons, but it was a blur. I loaded up on money for the day and for weapons, shoving the katr into my pocket. I grabbed my grappler off the dresser, my crossbow, my knife. I had no reason to take these to my weapon stash, as I didn't feel the need to leave them out in the open. I needed my weapons closeby and near me in case of an attack. Especially with the fact that someone came in here and poisoned some of our food, I knew that leaving anything out of reach could be a fatal mistake.

I was ready to meet up with the three of them on Level 3, after breakfast, like we'd planned. But the time was 7:16 p.m. already, and I'd have to go to Level 1. Silvsley needed better weapons for tonight.

I double checked all of my pockets, said bye to Sy, and headed out. I would eat on Level 3 with Dixter and Silvsley.

The elevator was a little faster this time, because no one was around at this hour, so there was no one else to attend to. Now that I thought about it, it seems that only parts of B.L.A.D.E. slept poorly, and they were the ones sleeping in. I wonder what made this fraction different from the rest.

It couldn't be..

The elevator chimed.

What if those that were more tolerant to being nocturnal.. were Colored?

The doors opened.

Why would that matter? Unless.. the Colored were originally nocturnal.

The hallways upon hallways of storage opened before me. I didn't come here often, but the weapons department here was visited often by B.L.A.D.E. members.

That would explain a lot, actually. Why the Colored world in my dream was set at nighttime, why we live during the night. I thought it was to keep out of the way of the day-strollers and to operate against M.A.S.K, but maybe it was originally for another reason: The Colored were meant to live in the night.

The view ahead of me interrupted my thoughts. I have a job to do.

Gray shelves stood in straight rows before me, and I stepped out of the elevator to get a better look. There were boxes on every shelf, each marked with a neat label. I passed by some that read "Pure Silver," "Steel Rods," and "Marble Pieces." I was still in the building department.

A sign in front of me read "Weapons / Materials / Building / Chemicals (HAZARD) / Color / Technology / Miscellaneous." Below each of the categories, there were subsections. For example, the "Weapons" category had "Grapplers / Knives / Bombs (Dormant Until Use) / Guns / Grenades (Dormant Until Use) / Shurikens / Bows & Arrows / Crossbows / Whips / Battle Axes / Scythes / Boomerangs" under it.

I went straight to the knife section. I had a feeling that Silvsley would be a little more familiar with this type of weapon, because knives were more common in the type of crimes he was accustomed to stopping: Street violence. It was my best guess, and I decided to trust my instinct.

My gaze swept the labels, until I came upon the one I was looking for: Daggers. Medium in length, made of sturdy metal, very sharp. Excellent.

I slipped some katr in and received one that was the perfect size. Usually, you only had to pay the boxes if there was enough demand for what was in them. The fees were often small, and were only there in order to make you really think about what you needed. If an item didn't get used up often enough, it was less of a priority to replenish it, and less of a drive to spend more on it, this meant that it had no reason to be paid for. Less need meant less money spent and received. It was a whole system.

I stopped by the grenades, and got Silvsley some of the newer models. I wasn't sure what he had, but I assumed that it was better to get him upgrades versions of what he already had. There was a good chance that he was comfortable with grenades if he already possessed them.

It would be best to look at the guns as well. My current one isn't the best. And maybe stop by the crossbows.

Browsing here never got boring, because the storage shelves were always getting restocked. Some with old, predictable things, and others with new items entirely. You were never sure of what would be here, and that was why I liked it.

With weapons gathered and bullets replenished, crossbow arrows resupplied and new weapons for Silvsley, I went back to the elevator.

I was ready to face the two of them in Level 3.

I checked my phone and found that the time was 7:31 p.m. I was very ready for food.

We had agreed on leaving at 8, after breakfast. The windswords... I've never used them, or defended from them, or been to one of their operations. This would be new, and it would be something I've never practiced with before.

This would be brand new.

Once again, the elevator chimed its pleasant note, and Level 3 was before me. The rows of food, all courses, all hours of the day, it was beautiful. The great expanse of food was a pleasant sight. I was hoping my hunger would be satisfied before tonight's mission.

I grabbed a warm plate, and decided I'd try Level 3's waffles. I'd only ever had their pancakes before. I grabbed some butter and syrup. After some chopped fruit and water, I turned to find Dixter and Silvsley.

I scanned the dining hall, and I found Braz.. alone. Silvsley was nowhere in sight.

Alright. Time to apologize.

I sighed and went over to him. I sat down and started spreading my butter. He had a glazed look over his eyes, like he was too lost in thought to even eat breakfast properly. His food sat half-eaten in front of him.

We didn't speak until I'd eaten half my waffle.

I swallowed and broke the awkward silence. "Hey.."

Dixter glanced at me, snapping out of his thought-trance. "Hey."

I looked down, a little ashamed. "I'm sorry about.. yesterday."

"Don't apologize. You're completely right."

I looked up at him in shock. "What?"

"You're right. Keeping this from you isn't the right thing to do, and I'm a coward for not telling you. I don't know how to put it into words without destroying what we have."

He's not a coward. My first thought rung true in my mind.

I leaned my head forward to look him in the eye. "I know for a fact that you are not a coward. You're one of the bravest people I know. You've been on countless missions, you've trained as hard as you possibly can, you even confessed to me. That's one of the hardest things as a person."

He returned my gaze. "You honestly think that?"

"Absolutely. I just need you to tell me at some point, preferably before the war."

"How about right after our mission today? After missions I usually feel like I could conquer the world."

"Sure." I took a bite of fruit. "Works for me."

He smiled, and the moment was bittersweet. Our argument hurt, but talking over food seems to ease the pain a little. At least our exchange seemed natural.

The elevator chimed from behind me, and Silvsley stumbled out. His hair looked a little disheveled, and his overshirt was half buttoned. His face was still as handsome as ever, and his silver-lined eyes scanned for us. He walked over to us like an ashamed puppy.

"I'm sorry guys, I overslept. I didn't sleep well.. I think I was stressed about today." He said as he finished buttoning his shirt. "I've never been on a more dangerous mission."

"Aw, Silvsley. It's okay, you weren't late by much. I'm sorry you didn't sleep well."

"Yeah, it's alright." He looked between the two of us. "Well, I'm gonna grab some food."

"Sure."

My eyes followed Silvsley as he got bacon and eggs. "I hope the poor guy wasn't stressed."

Braz scoffed. "He should be. This is life-threatening stuff. It's not some walk in the park."

I sighed. "I know. But we need him focused and well-rested. Not.." My eyes followed Silvsley's hands as he dropped the toast serving utensil with a loud clang. "Whatever this is," I finished.

"I just hope he's okay during it. He never does things like this. I'm starting to think this was a bad call."

Dix gently elbowed me in the side. "Hey, what's the big deal? We can plan the attack so that he doesn't even have to fight. He said he was fast, right? He can just turn off the lights or the machines. Or he can just be the distraction."

I thought about this for a moment. I couldn't plan until I saw the building where the operation was. "True. But I don't want to just leave him out there in the open, in danger, while we fight all the M.A.S.K. agents. That's not fair to him because it's his first time."

He nodded. "Fair enough. But he should be ready to be a part of the team."

"I think he will be."

Braz shook his head. "Always the optimist."

"It's not even that. I just have a feeling that he'll do whatever he can to play his part."

"Okay." Silvsley put his try down at our table, and sat down with a plop. "What's the plan?"

"The plan is, we go to the address I received from Quelp and weigh our options. Silvsley, the goal for you is to use all of the skills you have to the max. I really want you to put a lot into this. Do you think you can give your all?"

He nodded enthusiastically, taking in a mouthful of bacon. "Absolutely. I feel ready, even if I'm tired."

"Can you be coordinated? I saw your hand slip when you were getting bacon.."

"Yes!" He swallowed. "I just.. messed up a little."

"Silvsley, I need you focused. Do you think you can do that for me?" I looked directly into his eyes. "I need you fully here, and I need you to pay attention. It may save your life."

"I understand." He nodded, genuine. He finished his bacon, and took his last bite of eggs. "Thank you for doing this for me, Feckter."

I smiled softly. "I know what it's like to not feel valued."

Dixter looked at me with pain in his eyes, but I stood up to put away my tray. "I'll be right back."

"Okay." Silvsley said quietly. He waited a moment before doing the same. Dixter shortly followed. We all were standing now, we cleared our plates and walked towards the elevator.

I put my hands in my jacket pockets and tried to clear my mind. "Ready, boys?"

Silvsley shook himself out. "Yeah."

I felt around my jacket, and realized I had yet to give Silvsley his weapons. "Oh, here, Silver Boy."

I handed him the dormant grenades first. "I got the newest models; They look pretty effective. I'm not sure what you usually have, but I had a feeling that you could use them, since you already had some in your stash. And here's a new knife, as well. I figured you'd be familiar with these."

"Ah, these are perfect, Feckter! Thank you." He looked at me with genuine gratitude, but then saw Dixter in his peripherals and stepped back. I gave him a small smile in return.

Focus. I told myself. This is really going to help him.. and it'll help me get out of my head. Brushes with death always seem to reawaken my senses, and refocus my mind.

This will help all of us. And it will hurt M.A.S.K.

And we need every blow we can throw at the white agency if we have any chance of victory.

Two guards later, and we were outside. The fresh air, the neon lights of the city.. It made me feel so alive.

I pulled up the address from Agent Quelp and put it into a location searching app on my phone.

"It's in Southbound," I commented, my eyes going wide. This was uncommon for M.A.S.K.

"That's odd." Dixter was looking up at the skyscrapers all around us. He wanted to flick out his grappling hook and go already, I could see it in his eyes.

"It's usually Westbound or Eastbound." I shook my head. I'm not sure why M.A.S.K. chose this location over others, it sent up some red flags. I didn't have time to think about that now. "It doesn't matter. Everybody ready?"

Braz nodded beside me. Silvsley looked at me, a question in his eyes. "Should I..?"

"Oh, right. You don't.. grapple." I nodded my head towards the street. "Do you wanna take a taxi?"

"I have a garage three streets away. I'll meet you two there." He stopped and whipped out his phone. "Could I have the address?"

"Oh, cool. It's 7761 Steelpoint Drive on Southbound."

"Okay.." He typed it into his phone and waved a quick goodbye. "I'll see you in 20 minutes."

I reached out and touched his shoulder before he left. "We might have to destroy the property. Park a decent distance away."

"I will. See you guys soon." Silvsley nodded, and turned the corner.

I took a deep breath. "I hope he's ready."

Braz tried to reassure me. "He'll be fine if he stays focused."

"Yeah." I breathed through my lips. "Let's go."

We lifted our arms simultaneously, and our grappling hooks flicked out. We shot upwards, towards Southbound. It was going to be an estimated 15 minute travel time for us because of our speed. We would get there a little bit before our one-man ground force.

The pull of my grappler made my brain go into hyper-focus so I wouldn't die. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see through the onslaught of wind. I had to be completely aware of my surroundings if I was going to land safely. But..

THE RUSH. I screamed in my thoughts, a wild grin on my face. The wind screamed all around me. I LOVE THE RUSH.

It was the rush of time, the rush of being shot to a much higher ground. The rush of lights as they blurred into lines, the rush of space and distance all into a single moment. Time slowed and sped in different ways, it was like the control of this otherworldly force was in my hands. More specifically, my wrist.

GO. My mind screamed. Go higher, farther, FASTER.

As the line caught up to me, the force of the line paused, and I floated in the air for a millisecond before gravity acted upon me. I took in the city, the skyline, the scrapers surrounding me.

And then I fell.

I landed on the roof below me, with Braz following closely behind. He dropped onto the same platform, I heard his feet beside me. I kept my eyes forward and fired again.

This pattern continued until the streets started to look more.. Southbound. I couldn't explain it, but I felt as though I had an inner GPS of where I was in the city.

It's from living here long enough. I grunted as I pulled myself onto the next roof, then I jumped a wall. I dashed to the left to avoid an electrical unit. You start to get used to the place.

About ten minutes later, the reflective street sign of Steelpoint flashed. The moon's glow swung over it as I got closer, and I put an arm up to stop Dix from going further.

I heard the faint sounds of what I assumed to be Silvsley's car driving closer a few blocks away. The streetlights around us illuminated a new building like spotlights at a stage performance.

"We're here."