Chapter Fifteen

I narrowed my eyes at the building. It was taller and older than the last mission, and it appeared to have three floors. The sounds of production filtered through the cracked walls, and softly echoed to the street. Each of the windows seemed to have sheets draped over them, probably to hide what was happening inside from the public. They were somewhat ineffective, as I could still see some dark shapes moving inside. Some looked like men, but others looked like machines.

Signs of movement heightened my senses, and my mind was on high alert. My eyes darted between the moving shapes on each of the different floors, and I subconsciously took in each of the different light sources and sounds throughout the block. I was focused, and I had to stay that way if we were going to make it out of here alive. I was expecting the strongest operation, since this mission was in a larger building and had not yet been taken down by B.L.A.D.E.

Braz sat beside me, observing and analyzing the building just as I was. "Plan?"

"I can't make one until I see the inside. Where's Silvsley?"

"He's coming."

The low rumble of his car's engine was approaching from behind us. Dix and I turned and watched him arrive, the black car slowly pulling up as to not draw attention. He parked a ways down the street, in case we had to.. detonate the premises. Silvsley's grenades would be invaluable if we needed to go to the extremes.

"Perfect." I kept my eyes on him as he got out of his car and made his way to our crouched shapes. I gestured over to him, and Dix understood. Together we dropped into the alleyway between the building we were on and the next, the one next to the street. We stepped out and watched Silvsley walk towards us from down the street.

Once he got to us, he started speaking. "Is that far enough away?"

"Yes. You have all your weapons?"

"Yes."

"Are you nervous?" I asked him.

"Kinda." He looked down, a little embarrassed.

Dixter laughed. "You'll be fine. Keep your head in the game, and use your weapons at the right time. It's gonna be alright."

I nodded, my mind on other things. "Yeah. Let's move."

The three of us turned the corner, and looked at the building from street level. Silvsley came up from behind me. "Woah."

After a moment of observation, Silvsley spoke again. "How do we get in?"

"Usually the air vents, or a side door. I have to get a view of the roof," I said, my eyes unwavering. I began to quiet my voice, now that we were closer to the building. "But we have to remain undetected."

"Okay," Silvsley nodded, and Dix followed.

I made a hand signal to tell them "follow me," and turned the corner. The building housing the windsword operation had a chainlink fence surrounding the perimeter. We quietly made our way around to the back, which didn't have any streetlights to illuminate it. We were shrouded in darkness behind the building, behind the metal fencing.

I jumped the fence as discreetly as possible, but it was hard. The clinking of the metal was loud enough to make me cringe, but the two boys' less-than-smooth movements made me cringe harder. At least now they were over the fence.

As the sounds of the fence resonated throughout the alleyways around us, my eyes darted around the windows of the establishment to check for any reaction. No one seemed to bat an eye at the sound.

I released the breath I'd been holding, and jerked my head to signal that we could keep going. After the chain link fence, there were some crates in piles all around us. I assumed they were filled with sword-making materials or windsword parts, or shipments of the final product. There was another thing in our way: a shipping truck, parked right next to the back wall. I kept my eyes on the prize: A metal box that was well within grappling distance. It was perfectly in view from where we were on the ground.

But Silvsley doesn't have a grappling hook.

I mentally sighed. We should find the stairs.

Suddenly, Silvsley whispered in my ear. "I see the door for the stairs."

I looked closer, and sure enough, the word "Stairs'' was cut off partially by the truck. I didn't see it because I was focused on the roof.

I nodded, and the three of us crept over to it, trying our best to not make any noise. Dixter moved forward and pulled a thin metal tool out of one of his pockets, and picked the lock. He twisted it once more, and the lock made a soft click.

We're in.

I pulled the door open and listened for footsteps. After a moment, I hesitantly took steps inside. When nothing happened, I let the boys in behind me. The door for the ground floor was in front of us, and it had a single-pane window. I looked in, and saw movement.

Quick movement. Coming directly towards us.

"Back up, back up!" I hissed at them, turning around and shoving them back. They jumped back and went to the left and right, out of view of the door. A M.A.S.K. agent in his official white uniform walked out, talking to his phone.

"Yes, I told you we'd have the shipment out next week. The swords are becoming slower to produce because most of the materials are going towards weapons for the war." His voice stopped as he listened to the person on the other end. He stepped out further, and we were in his field of vision. He didn't notice us at first because he was focused on what he was saying. "Yes, I understand. There's nothing I can do to speed up the process. I can't magically make the needed–" He'd spotted us, and his voice was cut off by Dixter punching him in the face. His phone flew out of his hand and hit the ground, shattering the screen. He fell unconscious to the ground.

"Was that necessary?" Silvsley whispered harshly.

"Did you want to get caught in the first five minutes?" Dixter growled in a low voice.

I had to butt in. "Unfortunately, knocking people out is the only solution we have right now. Anything else would be too risky."

Silvsley sighed. "Okay."

I guess he hasn't been exposed much. All he's had to deal with so far is backalley crimes.

I spoke in quiet tones. "I'm sorry, but this is how things have to be. Things are a little more violent on these kinds of missions."

He nodded in understanding, and we returned to the door. "Let's try the next floor."

We were light in our footsteps as we made our way to the second floor. All eyes were constantly moving, all ears were on high alert. The door to the next floor looked the same as the first, and I looked through this one.

This time, there was no veil to cover up movement, and the lights were on. Rows of men in white were loading metal bars into a smelter, where they were poured into long metal rods. After cooling, they were dumped into crates.

"That can't be the end." I whispered to myself. "I have to check the next floor."

The next door's little window revealed the next step in the process: The machinery. More M.A.S.K. members were taking the crates of metal rods and lining them up. Then, they put them onto a conveyor belt which loaded into a flattening machine. It pressed the rods into heated sheets of metal that had a risen line down the middle. Then that machine used conveyor belts to load the sheets into a precision cutter. It outlined the shape of a windsword, then used lasers to divide the sheet. Then the next machine assembled the metal with its handle, which was made from leather and gripping from another production line. For the finishing touches, a final machine engraved the windsword's signature markings into its blade, and tightened the straps on its grip. The end product is then dropped into long rectangular boxes for shipping.

The swords are beautiful, I couldn't help but think. I wonder how effective they are in battle.

I guess we'll find out soon.

I ran all of our options through my head, working out all possible solutions. I ran probabilities and outcomes, and tried to think as thoroughly as possible.

"Ready for the plan?" I murmured, turning to them. They both gave me nods simultaneously. I continued to explain the plan. "We don't have a height advantage, unlike the last two missions, Dix. We're going to need to be quick and quiet, and we need to destroy this entire operation. And that means the entire building. Grenades are our most explosive weapon, and most likely to destroy the foundations. If we hit all four corners at once, the whole place could go down. The walls are cracked in several places. That means if we–"

"Are we trying to kill everyone?" Silvsley cut me off. His eyebrows were furrowed in an exasperated way. He seemed.. almost offended.

I tried not to sound annoyed. "We need to eliminate everyone here and destroy any chances of them making any more windswords. That means taking the building down." I didn't mean to glare at him, but my face seemed to act on its own. "That's the only effective way I can see–"

"What are you doing here?!" A new voice yelled from above us. The flight of stairs rose in a spiral, and this male voice was coming from the third floor. He had on the standard white mask of a working agent, but his voice told us his expression.

Dixter made a noise similar to a growl and leaped up the stairs to take care of him. He threw punches at his face, then his neck and chest. I heard a crack, and something fell to the floor. I assumed it was his mask. Sounds of the man collapsing echoed throughout the staircase.

"Can you two make up your mind? We can't wait here all day!" Dixter was trying to keep his voice down, but he was becoming less successful. His angry side was starting to poke through.

I had to think fast. The best way to keep Dix under control was to let him punch more M.A.S.K. agents, so I figured I should let him take care of level 2.

"Dix! I want you to clear out level 2!" I exclaimed, the gears still turning in my head.

"Just the men or the machines?" He yelled at me, running down the stairs. We'd made enough noise, so now everything was about speed.

"Both! Destroy everything on that floor!" I grabbed Silvsley. "You and I will deal with the third floor."

We sprinted up the stairs and barged through the door. I whipped out my gun, and Silvsley pulled out his knife.

There were about twenty agents in white, all of them masked, and they seemed to be sorting materials and organizing shipments. There were rows of shipments going out and tables for categorizing buyers. They looked up in alarm, and some began shouting. All work was abandoned when they noticed us.

He asked me one last time. "Can we not kill them?"

I sighed, lowering my weapon slightly. "We'll knock them unconscious."

I tucked away my gun and sprang forward full force. I ran down the rows upon rows, leaping over tables and kicking M.A.S.K. agents in the face. I swung my fists left and right, knocking out agents as I moved between sections.

"Silvsley! Block the door, we can't let any out!" I yelled to him.

"What about level 1?" He shouted back.

I gritted my teeth as I blocked a punch from a M.A.S.K. agent. "We'll get there!"

"What about Dixter?!" Silvsley was behind me, dealing with a fleet of agents on his own.

"Focus!" I yelled, punching another in the ribs. He fell back, his mask shattering against the floor.

A few moments later, all of them were down. Some were groaning from pain, but everyone stayed down. They were all suffering injuries, some unrecoverable. Silvsley and I were the only ones still standing.

Breathing heavily, I looked back at him. He was surrounded by unconscious M.A.S.K. members, and he seemed to be.. a little scared. There was fear in his eyes, but it wasn't from his enemies.

Are you afraid of your own power? Afraid of killing a man?

"You okay?" I asked him, making my way back to the staircase.

"Yeah.. yeah." He was still trying to normalize his breathing. "I've never fought so many men at once."

"It was like ten. There's a lot more downstairs." I mentally rolled my eyes. He had to get over this mental block. We were doing this because we had to, nothing more. It didn't have a thirst for violence, unlike the white agency.

"We have to go," I sighed. "We have to see how Dixter is doing."

"Yeah.. okay." He seemed shaken, but he was still on two feet.

"Let's go."

We rushed down the stairs, and my eyes flew open at the scene before me. Dixter had knocked over the production line, torn off conveyor belts, and gotten to some of the men. They were sprawled on the ground like ragdolls, in random places. There looked to be about thirty agents still up, and they were closing in on him.

Silvsley panicked, and fumbled with his jacket pockets. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him holding a dark shape.

A silver pin dropped to the ground.

"Silvsley, no!" I screamed, pushing him to the ground. "Dix is still in there!"

It was too late. The grenade was already flying towards the mass of people.

I watched in horror as the object flew through the air, slowing time down. It arched over the heads of the M.A.S.K. agents.

HE'S GOING TO DIE.

"DIX!" I screeched, and nothing else mattered.

The grenade was still falling, falling, and a flash of movement. One sole body jutted out, pushing the crowd out of the way and sprinting towards us as fast as possible.

He heard me.

"GO!" Dixter barked, and I grabbed Silvsley's arm. We jumped into the stairwell and I slammed the door behind us.

Dixter and I ducked, because we knew that would happen to the door's window, but I ran out of time to tell Silvsley.

HE'S STILL STANDING.

The loudest sound I'd heard since we bombed the warehouse boomed behind me. Sound stopped reaching my ears for several seconds. Pieces of glass flew to the floor, and it made me jerk my head up. Silvsley dropped to his knees beside me, clutching the sides of his head. He cried out in pain.

"Silvsley!" I exclaimed, rushing to the floor next to him.

His face. It was covered in a variety of glass shards, and it looked like a larger one had scraped a line down his cheek.

Oh. My eyes widened. Oh no.

My eyes followed the line up to his right eye, and my breath hitched. It was covered in blood, and his eye.. He might never be able to see out of it again.

He screamed again, and I backed away. I didn't know what to do.

Dixter spoke from behind me. "I'll take him to the parking lot. Check if there are any survivors. I'll meet you on the ground level."

And without another word, Braz picked Silvsley up and took him downstairs. I'd have to trust that they'd make it.

When I recovered from my shock, and Dixter's words caught up to me, I opened the door. The second floor of this building was totally decimated, and there were no survivors. It had blown a massive hole in the side of the building, one large enough that I could see the inner wall structure of the ground floor. I could see the street, and the wind from outside blew through. A piece of the third floor fell to the ground, right next to the body of a M.A.S.K. member. My heart was beating fast in my skull.

There are no survivors. Go back to Dix.

I turned to run to him, but something caught my eye. Something in the street.

A stark white car, expensive and low, was pulling up.

Find Dix. Now.

I turned and ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I pushed open the stairwell door to the parking lot, and found Braz propping our wounded agent up far away from the building. Silvsley was still bleeding profusely, and his entire body seemed to be collapsing. He continued to scream in pain.

"Dixter! We have company!" I shouted as I started running to him.

"What?" He whipped his head over to look at me. His eyes were wild with an array of fiery emotions.

"A low white car, coming towards us."

He let out a frustrated grunt and stood. "That isn't good."

I thought of the first floor. We still had the entire first half of the operation to destroy. "What, you know them?"

"Yeah, I do. We should hurry."

I nodded, and we left Silvsley in the safety of the parking lot. I prayed that it was enough, and that he wouldn't die like that.

Dixter and I sprinted to the building's door, the one we first used. He swung it open, and I opened the second, not sure what to expect.

The agents were running around in panic. Their voices and screams filled the air, along with smoke from multiple new fires. Some machines were aflame; conveyor belts had stopped moving. They were running in every direction, and some were making it to the door. They were trying their best to escape.

"Back up." Braz commanded.

"You got another..?"

"Back up."

We walked backwards into the door we just came out of. I opened it while Dix took something out of his pocket.

Another dark shape.

"Again?" I asked, exasperated. The last one severely wounded Silvsley. I was nearly shouting over the noise. The screams of M.A.S.K. agents surrounded us. "Is it worth the risk, Dix?"

"We have to." He pulled the pin, and it dropped to the ground with a clink. "Because of who just pulled up."

My eyes flew open. He would risk the building going down and putting all of us in more danger just for this?

That car must be more important than I thought.

Braz threw the grenade, and it flew through the air towards the wall facing the street. I hoped that the car was pulled up to the front, based off of Dix's reaction. It couldn't be good if he was willing to go this far.

I pulled him behind the door, just like we did for the second floor. The window was above us, and the rest of the door was safe to hide behind. The glass window shattered once again, but this time, no one got hurt. The shards landed like rain all around us.

I couldn't hear for several seconds, only a light ringing that seemed lost in the void of sound. I shook my head to clear it, and it went away soon after.

"Did you get that grenade from Silvsley?" I asked, breathing heavily. My heart rate was dramatically high.

"Yeah," Dix was panting too. "Yeah, I did."

He grunted and stood up. "While I was helping him."

"Uh-huh." I tried to steady my breathing. "Ready?"

He nodded and faced the door. I opened it cautiously.

What I saw astounded me.

Not only was the car unscathed, but the entire front wall was practically gone. More pieces were falling from above, but it wasn't enough to bring the building down. One more grenade would do it.

Dust and smoke was choking the air, and it took a minute for it to settle. Once it did, we could clearly see the car.. and the man that got out of it.

The door opened, and a man in a pressed white suit got out. Not a hair on his head was singed from the explosion, and he seemed to have all the confidence in the world.

"Oh no." Dix whispered.

"Is that..?"

"Yes."

The president of M.A.S.K.

My breath hitched, and my hands started shaking. "Why is he.. here?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I think I know why."

Dixter didn't get a chance to explain, because the man started speaking. His voice told me he was old, and at ease. He was a lot more relaxed than I was. "Hello, enemies."

I started to tense up, and nearly flicked out my grappler. I was eying the building across the street.

"Don't run," Dix hissed in my ear, grabbing my arm. "They'll shoot you."

My eyes went down to the white car, where I saw the driver's window rolled down. Their gun was trained directly at my head.

I swallowed and nodded. Dixter's eyes darted from the car to me. "Okay."

The man in the white suit spoke again. His voice was calmer than ever, and he seemed to have everything under control. I immediately hated him. Especially because I now knew who he was.

The man smiled in an unsettling way. "Come here. I have a proposition to make."

"We better listen," Dixter said, upset. His voice was off, and he was grinding his teeth. He was starting to worry me. He never acted like this.

"You sure?" I regained some confidence, my mind in several places at once. We began slowly walking towards him, and we kept our voices low. "We need a plan to escape with Silvsley."

"I think he only wants me. When you and Silvsley get out of here, take him to the medics. They'll patch up his face."

"What about you?!" I exclaimed. "We aren't leaving you here with him."

"The boy's right." The president spoke. "I only want him."

"Why?" I questioned boldly, my voice loud. Why only him?

"Because he's my son."

I drew in a sharp breath. The world froze. Everything started to blur.

No. No. NO. NO.

I whipped my head over to stare at Dix. "What?"

He looked at me with pain in his eyes.

"No, no, no, no, Dix tell him he's wrong." My voice was trembling. My heart was going a million miles an hour. He's wrong. He's wrong. He has to be.

"I'm right." The man had the audacity to say. His smug expression made me want to claw his face out with my bare hands, but I knew that if I moved I'd be shot within a second.

The president spoke again. "Braz Dixtet, why don't you tell this young woman what it is you've been doing in B.L.A.D.E. headquarters?"

I locked my eyes on his face, hoping for any sort of reaction that would go against what he was saying. My hands were still shaking, and my breath was getting shorter.

No. Not you. Anyone but you.

"I.." Braz looked at me with immense regret. "I was sent as a spy."

My eyes went wide, and my blood went cold. WHAT?

"But.. you've been with us for as long as I can remember. There's no possible way you were sent."

"My son was planted by me at a young age. I led him to believe that he had a choice in choosing B.L.A.D.E., and I let him grow up among his peers. Later in life, he was asked by one of my unmasked men if he wanted to do some dirty work for big cash, and he agreed. We then recruited him as an inside spy, and that's when I personally told him of his origins. He promised to keep quiet until I relieved him of his spying contract, upon breaking would result in death. I recently decided that his term would end.. never." He smiled an evil grin with a gleam of intelligence in his eye. It was the face of a man who believed he'd won.

"What.. Dix, no.." I stammered quietly, not understanding. It couldn't be real.

He looked broken. His eyes seemed to shatter when he looked at me. "Feckter, I–"

"Later in life.. When you left the trio," I realized. "You were approached by a M.A.S.K. member.. And you took the job?!"

My voice was rising, and so was my temper. "WHY did you not tell me about this?" I yelled.

"I tried! It wasn't the right–" He tried to defend himself, but I cut him off again.

Realization dawned on me, and everything went silent. "This is what you've been trying to tell me," I murmured, barely a whisper.

"So you've merely been trying to tell her?" The president of M.A.S.K. asked with a twisted laugh. "You couldn't bring yourself to let her down, mm?"

"I tried!" Dixter screamed, frustrated. "It's impossible to tell something like this to someone you love!"

The last word echoed in the silence. I stared at Dix's face in shock and confusion. I watched a tear slide down his cheek.

The man in the white suit broke the moment. His expression was pure disgust. "Get him."

The president's men jumped out of the car, and ran straight at Dixter. They all were dressed as working M.A.S.K. agents, masks and all. They all had guns at their sides, which they whipped out and pointed at him, warning him not to move. They encircled Dix, and his eyes went to me for backup.

I didn't know what to do. I only stared at his pleading eyes as they lowered their weapons and stepped closer to him. One took out a pair of handcuffs and attached them to his wrists.

He was getting desperate to make me do something, but I seemed unable to move my body. "I swear! It was different after I fell for you! I was originally with B.L.A.D.E., I promise! Times were different, and then you made me a better person and I–"

"Silence!" One of the men hit Dixter in the head with the side of his gun.

"Feckter, please," he whispered, only to me. Blood dripped from where they struck him.

Another realization fell upon me, and my blood ran cold. "You were also commanded to poison me, weren't you?"

He couldn't meet my eyes.

After a moment of pain, and after burdening my heavy stare, he managed to look at my face. Everything in the entire world was just narrowed down to the two of us for a single moment. Every betrayal he'd committed against me, every act against the black agency, everything he'd done to fool me, it cost him my trust. My idea of who he was was shattered, and it seemed like I'd been loving a lie of a human being.

He was right. Everything changed.

"Goodbye, Dixter," I managed, tears threatening to spill. I silently watched his desperate, bleeding face disappear into the backseat of the expensive white car. I wordlessly eyed the president of M.A.S.K. as he stepped forward. I wanted to shred his pressed white suit into a thousand pieces. My blood was boiling, but my sorrow was putting a damper on it. I was a mess of emotions, but towards the president, I only felt hatred.

I narrowed my eyes as he began to speak.

"I didn't realize the truth could so easily break you."

I closed my eyes and turned away before he could see me cry. Satisfied, the president smugly turned away and walked to the other side of the vehicle.

"Oh, and before I forget," he paused and looked me in the eye. My watery vision met his cold stare. "Don't attack my agency. That is, if you don't want to see him killed."

My eyes widened, and my tangle of emotions towards Dix began to loosen. "Goodbye, Agent Feckter," the president said simply. "Until never."

He mocked a bow, and got into his car. The one that Dix was still currently in.

A surge of something allowed me to move again, and I took a step forward. My eyes travelled to the window where my soulmate was sitting. I stared into it, like somehow by looking in his direction, everything was alright again.

Little did I know, through the tinted window, Dixter was looking at me with another tangle of emotions. And his were mostly regret.

The low, white car started and pulled away, taking away the man I'd thought I'd loved unconditionally. Now my heart couldn't decide.

I watched the back of the car get further and further away from me, and I had no control over myself anymore. My shaking hands turned to fists, my voice could no longer be contained. My tears flowed down my face as I cried out in emotional pain, from the weight of the truth that was just unveiled to me.

I felt as though I'd lost a piece of myself, and he was currently being driven away by the leader of my enemy.

"Dix.." I sobbed. I dropped to my knees.

How could I let them take you?

Another tear rolled down my cheek.

How could you have done this to me?

I cried for several more moments, letting everything wash over me.

But I had to stand and help Silvsley. I knew I had to, but the weight was hard to overcome.

I have to stand and get to him. Bring him home and make sure he's okay.

In that moment, I felt a presence inside my mind. It was my color, I was sure of it. It formed into that familiar pale teal face, but it was contained behind glass. She gently put a hand on the barrier, and sent me mental condolences.

I am sorry.

It seemed to be all she could make out. She explained to me earlier that she did not have much power in my day-to-day, until she awoke in me. She could only control my dreams.

I wondered why my headache never came. I had a deep-rooted feeling that it was because I had a new strength, something that my color gifted me. She had assumed my mind couldn't fully handle it being altered, but somehow it had found the strength.

Thank you.

She nodded silently, then retreated back into my mind. The image of glass shattered, and I was alone in my mind once more.

I stood and wiped my eyes. Silvsley.

I made my way back through the tattered remains of the building. The walls were creaking and snapping, so I sprinted until I made it out the other side. I saw Silvsley's slumped figure against a concrete wall far from the building. He was safe in the parking lot.

I hope.

I ran up to him, then crouched beside him. "Hey, you doing alright?"

It clearly took a lot of effort for him to move his head upwards to look at me. "No."

His right eye was severely wounded, his face was covered in blood. Glass shards still remained scattered throughout his skin. His lip was bleeding too.

"Oh, Silvsley," I sighed with great concern. I couldn't imagine how he was feeling. "How's the pain?"

"Take me home."

I nodded, and tried my best to pick him up without hurting him. I put an arm around his shoulders and supported him like a tattered soldier. We took painful steps towards the street, where I remembered his car farther down the street. I got a glimpse of it when we reached the front, and I realized that he couldn't drive.

And I couldn't either. I'd had no reason to learn.

I grunted from Silvsley's weight. I carefully set him down at the curb, and pulled out my phone from one of my many pockets. I called a taxi, and it arrived a few moments later. I'd have to get Silvsley's car some other night.

I carefully set Silvsley in the backseat. "Hello, sir. My friend here has been severely injured, and we'd appreciate it if you could get us as close as you can to the center of the city."

The driver wore a black shirt and had a sharp haircut, with darker skin. He nodded in understanding. "Any place in particular?"

"The high rise on Bulset 42nd. Quickly, please." I closed the door, and we drove away from the shakey building. In the rearview mirror, I watched it collapse. The walls folded in on themselves, and the stones broke apart. All three floors fell into a disorganized pile of rock and wood.

It fell apart, and I was trying my best not to do the same.

Silvsley groaned in pain a few times, but he remained considerably quiet. After about ten minutes, the cab driver spoke again.

"You two had a rough night?"

I sighed, thinking of everything that had happened with Dixter, and Silvsley's injury. "Yes."

The remainder of the car ride was nearly silent, except for the hum of the engine and the occasional grunt from Silvsley. The atmosphere was mostly concern for the injured agent.

I reached into his jacket and grabbed his car keys for when I would retrieve his car. He barely moved, and I assumed he either didn't notice or didn't care.

You must be in immense pain, Silvsley.

We arrived by the building close to HQ, the one I'd told the cab driver. I handed him the required katr plus tip.

"Thank you, sir," I said, stepping out of the cab. I pulled Silvsley out and propped him up with my arm again.

"Don't mention it. I hope your friend is okay." He gave me a small smile, genuine.

"Thank you," I replied. I smiled in return, though it was painful to do so. He gave me one more concerned look, then drove off.

I turned and readjusted my arm on Silvsley. "Come on. Let's get you home."

I found the entrance to HQ, in between a few skyscrapers. The back alley was dimly lit, but I managed to find the marked sheet. We crouched and painfully made our way down the tunnel, and I entered the code into the keypad with my free hand. The wall outlined into a door, and two agents were standing guard on the other side.

They saw the state of Silvsley's face, and how much blood was him, and stepped forward in alarm.

"Hello again, Agents Welser and Quilr." I paused and adjusted the injured agent. I was trying to slow my breathing, and my tone unconcerned. It was increasingly difficult. "I may need some assistance."

They immediately stepped in and took both of his arms. The four of us stepped into the elevator, and I pressed level 4. Agent Qulir called for replacement guard agents. Come on, come on, come on.

The elevator chimed it's charming note, and level 4 was revealed to us. The white lights were strikingly bright, and the contrast hurt my eyes for a second.

The medical staff swarmed Silvsley, first getting his vitals. They measured heart rate and blood loss, and started cleaning him up. I knew they would take good care of him.

Without warning, the floor began to sway. I backed up and sat on an empty bed, and put a hand to my forehead.

"Are you okay?" One medic stopped to ask, a pretty agent with large eyes. She looked concerned for my health.

"Yes, thank you." I tried to reassure her. My head was killing me. "I think I just need to go rest."

She nodded in agreement, and guided me towards the elevator. "Please, go to sleep and let your body heal. We'll take care of your friend here."

"Thank you," I managed to reply. She smiled, and the elevator doors closed.

Once they were shut, I tried to take deep breaths. Relax. You've done all you can. Silvsley is safe. You need to rest.

But Dix is gone.

The pain of that statement shot through my heart like a harpoon. I could almost feel the weight of it sinking into me.

Maybe I do just need to rest.

I stumbled into my dorm, and Sytra shot up off the couch. "What happened to you?!"

"Dix is gone."

She froze. "What?"

"Dixter's gone. They took him," I managed, barely meeting her eyes.

"Who?" Sytra demanded.

"M.A.S.K. He's the president's son."

She stood there, wide-eyed. "What?"

"Don't make me repeat it." Tears were starting to form in my eyes. "I can't really talk, Sy."

She stood in shock. "He's the president's son?" After a moment, she wrapped me in her arms, and closed the door.

I couldn't speak. I just buried my face in her shirt, and began to silently cry.

"I promise, you and me, we're gonna figure this out." She spoke softly into my hair. "Okay?"

"Okay."

I gave a tiny nod towards my room. Sytra understood and released me slowly. I took steps towards my room, trying not to break into sobs.

I don't remember being this weak.

I gave Sy a look that read Thank you, I'll be here for a while, and closed the door. The darkness surrounded me in my most broken moment, and I wept in the shadows. I felt comfort from them, and from being alone. I could finally feel everything I'd been holding back.

I slowly walked over to my bed, and fell on top of my sheets. I took deep breaths and took off my multi-pocket jacket. The gear dropped to the floor, and I already felt lighter.

I was left in my soft, sweaty cotton t-shirt. I pulled the sheets over me, letting its comfort overwhelm me. I wanted to lie here forever.

He's gone. He's gone. They're going to kill him. That's what they do.

But they promised they'd keep him alive.. Unless we attacked.

It felt as though my soul was being ripped in half. I could only lie there in my multitudes of pain. My soulmate, the only one I'd ever truly loved romantically, was taken from me. And he was probably gone forever.

And if I wanted him to live, I'd have to call off the attack on the white agency.

I need.. I need to see Chief.

It was my last thought before my exhaustion overtook me.