Chapter Sixteen

"Grace."

Who..? It was my color, and both of us were kneeling in a void of black space. Her pale teal face, her lighter hair, her darker dress. Instead of her clothing being flowy and otherworldly, it was deflated around her like a normal dress. Her hair was straight and strangely human, compared to the last time I saw it. Even the light in her eyes was dimmer.

What happened to you?

"Why are you..?" I gestured to all of her.

"I lose a fraction of my power within your dreams when you are emotionally unstable."

Her saddened eyes looked at me with concern. "Look at yourself."

Dream me was covered in scars, bruises, and scrapes. All of my limbs had some sort of damage done to them. But what was most concerning was the huge, fresh wound on my chest.. directly through my heart.

"Oh.." I brought a hand up to touch it. My first finger brushed it, and nerves exploded all across my chest. I bit my lip from the pain, and it began to bleed.

Once I regained the ability to speak, I asked my color, "Why didn't I see these the last time you were in my dreams?"

"You were at full strength, so I was able to conceal them. I wanted you to have the illusion that everything about your inner self was flawless."

I looked up with surprise. "Why?"

"You needed it at the time, you needed to feel full. When I showed you what Riedhak was before Kistra, you needed to feel whole there. Because that would be who you were if we were in that world. The wounds you see across your body.. They would not exist."

This was news to me. "I would feel.. what I felt then? I would be complete if we lived in the land of the Colored?"

She looked at me with those soft eyes. "Yes, my child."

We looked at each other with the same pain.

A moment passed, and I needed to break the silence. "So.." I looked side to side, a little confused. "Why are we here?"

She pushed some hair behind my ear. Her touch was light, like a mother's. "I want to ease your wounds in any way I can. I am in your dreams to provide you peace."

I looked up at her with tears in my eyes. "I could really use some of that right now."

She pulled me into an embrace. Her skin felt cool to the touch, but her heart was full of warmth. Her face was perfect, as was her hair and frame.

I was being held so lovingly, and in my broken state, all I could do was accept it. Somehow, even dream me had tears to cry.

I let her warmth and comfort wash over me. Everything about her resonated with me, everything about her essence began to heal me. Her motherly love seemed to ease some of the cracks within me, but this would take time. I could feel it.

"These cuts seem to run deep." She pulled back, and examined the cuts along my arm. She then gazed at the one across my chest. "I am doubtful I can heal them completely."

"I think only time can heal this one." I said, placing a hand near my heart.

"I would agree." She stood, and offered a hand to pull me up. I gladly accepted it. The void around us hardened into solid black ground as my feet touched its surface.

"Well," my color spoke. "I don't see a reason why I can't lift your spirits a little more."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice tired.

"Now that you're healing, I can feel some of my power returning. It only drains within your dreams, because this is where your inner self is represented. We have a constant amount in real life."

"That's good." I gave her a half-smile.

"I'd like to show you how beautiful we can be." She stepped forward with her arms out, like a dancer awaiting a command.

"Sure, by all means."

She gave me a smirk, then leapt upwards. Her feet melted into lines of our Carribean teal, like water in a fountain. She thrust her arms out, and they erupted into lines upon lines of color. Thin lines, thick lines, dots, all creating complex patterns in the air. From her chest, a dazzling turquoise light burst forth. It launched into the air above her, creating a sparkling chandelier dripping down all around her. The lines collided with the light, and the entire thing seemed to infuse with the air. The void was overcome with our color.

Woah.

My eyes reflected the lights, and I looked up at them with wonder. Everything with the war, and Dixter, it all melted away. Nothing preoccupied by mind, and all of my focus was on her. There was nothing but my color and I.

My color slowly floated downwards, her dress billowing out from her neckline once again. The color from the air slowly returned to her, descending along with her. It was reabsorbed by her body, line by line. She continued to collect color until her feet gently returned to the ground.

By now, I was bouncing with excitement. "That was amazing! Can I do that?!"

She laughed lightly, and took my hands in hers. "We can do whatever we set our minds to. But first, you must awaken me in the real world. I am not fully in you until you've achieved that state."

I gave her a disappointed look. "Okay.. When will that be?"

"I've told you this once before. When you truly call for me, when you genuinely need me. Then I will be alive in you."

"I'm guessing.. before the war. That's what you said before?" I kept my eyes on her perfect face for confirmation.

She nodded. "You will need me to win this war. But until then, I can only give you a taste of our power."

"Good enough for me." I smiled a true smile. There is hope. And I know that with her, I'll be able to win.

"C'mon." She smiled and grabbed my hand. "Let's go."

I gave a little laugh, and she pulled me along. "Where are we going?"

My color looked back with a playful grin. "Feckter, you should know by now that we're in a world that I've created."

She jumped forward, a wild smile on her face. "Which means I can do this!"

At the last word, the woman of teal cast her arm out, and the black ground rose. Grass began to rapidly grow on its now-earthy surface. It transformed into a grassy hill.. one of Riedhak.

"Your power's returning!" I exclaimed with joy.

"Yes, it is! It's because of you!" Her voice was carried off by newly-created wind.

I laughed, and it too was carried away by the wind.

"Come on! Jump!" She yelled back at me. It was getting harder to hear her over the roaring wind.

I lept at the same time as her, and the ground beneath us sank into nothingness. We launched forward in the air, propelled by our leap. Reidhak's sky surrounded us, colors of peach and lilacs, and clouds were forming around us as we flew. We floated, suspended in a void completely in my color's control.

"Our time is coming to a close," my color said with a disappointed tone.

"Shame," I noted.

"Indeed." She looked me in the eyes, and held my face in her hands.

"Promise me that you'll awaken me. Everything will be right when we are truly bonded in the real world."

I was beginning to tear up. This was sounding like goodbye.

I found myself never wanting to leave here, even if it was all just an illusion.

With watery eyes, I nodded. I put my hand on hers, which was resting upon my face. "I promise."

"I am proud to be a part of you."

And with that, the dream collapsed.

I awoke with a gasp, the image of her face fresh on my mind. My breath was short, and my emotions were a combination of joy, wonder, and confusion. I was also desperate for answers.

WHY can't I awaken her yet? She seemed to know that it would save me. She must know more about it than I do.

But then it hit me.

Braz.

All of those emotions became infected with thoughts of him. Why did it have to happen now?

He barely explained himself.

My mind became filled with that fateful night. Glass scattering, Silvsley's bloody face. Dixter being dragged towards the white car. My frozen stance, my heart racing. The cold man in the white suit calmly shattering my relationship with his son.

I clenched my jaw, remembering how Dix chose the initial M.A.S.K. mission. It was his original idea to betray B.L.A.D.E.

Right?

The president said he was planted when he was really young. But he also was taking bad jobs for a lot of money. It was his turning point.

He BETRAYED the trio. One voice in my head brought up a valid point.

He probably didn't even know he was working for M.A.S.K. when he first took the job! Isn't that what the president said? The other voice was trying desperately to stick up for him.

I thought back to what the man had said. 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.

"Unmasked," so maybe he didn't know. The first voice spoke.

Yeah. He was told of his origins when he was recruited as a spy. The second replied.

I didn't forgive him. I'm not sure I ever would.

Well, I'm out of tears.

All I felt now was pain, and hatred towards the president. I was also angry that Dix couldn't bring himself to tell me that he was the president's son.

I wonder who his mother is. Or.. was.

That was a mystery for another day. But now, I needed to tell Sytra what happened, check on Silvsley, and ask Chief what this all meant.

I threw the covers off, and quickly made the bed. I got dressed as fast as I could, and continued getting ready. I grabbed my phone off the bed and went to open my bedroom door. But something made me stop.

The cereal box. It was still tucked away beside my bed.

I didn't want anything to remind me of Dixter, or the fact that at one point, he tried to kill me. I just prayed that it was before we went on that warehouse mission. Before we got together.

An image of a huge wound across my chest flashed in my mind.

I felt it, beneath the surface. It was there.

I grabbed the box, and my grip on it ripped holes in the cardboard.

My loud thoughts matched my expression. ENOUGH OF HIM. FORGET. MOVE ON. LEAVE HIM BEHIND. WALK AWAY.

He's my soulmate.

No! He doesn't deserve love!

The voices in my head continued to fight. My wounded heart bickered with a forgiving spirit. I felt like I was only watching, but feeling both in full extent. My irritation and anger was rising by the minute.

I opened my bedroom door with enough force to knock something over.

"Oh, hey." Sytra was eating breakfast in the kitchen. She was dressed in more sportswear, this time it was more comfortable for sleeping. The kitchen clock read 7:43pm.

"I need to tell you what happened last night." My voice was cold and upset. It wasn't my intention, but it just came out before I could stop it.

"Yeah, I'm ready to hear it." She stopped eating and faced me, giving me her full attention.

I took a deep breath, and unclenched my fists. I kept my voice level as I explained everything that happened yesterday. How Silvsley messed up his face. How the president showed up, and explained who Dixter actually was. How I could only stare as my relationship with him was shattered. How I carried Silvsley to the street and called a taxi, and got us both home.

Once I finished, I sighed and leaned against the wall. "And last night I dreamed with my color again. She described that dream me was a depiction of my inner self.. it was covered in wounds, in scars. It hurt to see. And there was this huge gash going right through my heart, and it hurt to touch. I asked her why she was in my dreams, and she said that she was there to bring me peace. So she eased my mind a little, and she tried to help me escape.. It helped me relax, just for the moment. Then I woke up and got all tense, and I nearly tore apart this box of cereal."

I lifted the box and showed her the holes in its sides. "And.. yeah. I don't think I'll have peace for a while."

"This is what Dix used to poison me."

I searched her face for a reaction, but she just stared at me.

I let her ponder everything, and I went to throw the box away. I opened the trash can and thrust my hand in, crushing the box, the poisoned food inside, and part of my love for Dixter.

Her eyes followed me as I destroyed the cardboard. I lifted my arm, and turned back towards her. I met her eyes.

I felt my expression lose its normal warmth of platonic love for my best friend. I felt my eyes go cold, my fists enjoy crushing things. My unusual morning, my lack of tears when I woke up.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in these details. She noticed. She knew me well enough.

"You've changed, Feckter."

I ran a hand through my partially-brushed hair. "Yeah, Sytra, I have changed. Everything changed when I found out that he was the president's son."

Her expression changed, and it looked like she wanted to remind me that she was there for me. "I'm really sorry, girl." She gave me her sorry eyes.

I sighed, and some of the ice melted. I released the tension in my shoulders. "And.. What's worse.. If we attack the white agency, he'll be killed."

"No. You'll find some super sneaky way to get into their base under their noses and you'll kill the president before he even knows you're there." She looked at me with hope in her eyes. "You'll figure this out."

My back got tight again, and I stood to my full height. "Sytra, I'm not even sure I want to save him."

Her shoulders slumped, and she lowered her head slightly. She stared at the plate of breakfast in front of her. "I'm really losing you, ain't I? Not just Dix?"

It struck me like an arrow. I unclenched my fists. "No, no.. You can't lose me.."

HE DOESN'T DESERVE TO BE SAVED.

HE'S THE ONLY SOULMATE WE GOT.

HE ISN'T WORTH ANYTHING TO US ANYMORE.

HE'S THE ONE THAT OUR COLOR CHOSE.

The voices in my head continued to fight. She looked at me with pain in her eyes.

"Sytra.." I gripped the sides of my head. "I don't know! I don't know when I'll be able to forgive him, but it isn't going to be any time soon."

She sighed, and nodded. "Okay. I need to know when you're gonna be ready to save your soulmate."

"You wanna come?" I asked, a little confused.

"Nah. But I need to know when you get a level head."

I turned away from her and the conversation. She was disappointed in me, but I didn't care.

"Bye, Sytra."

"Bye, Feck."

I didn't feel anything when she said that name.

I walked into the hallway. It was time for Silvsley.

The elevator, and its note. I stared coldly at the metal elevator wall. I didn't feel like myself. Maybe this was the new self.

HE DESERVES TO BE RESCUED.

HE DON'T DESERVE NOTHIN'.

Weary soul.

Level 4 doors. Blinding white lights. Rows upon rows of medical beds.

SIlvsley laid propped on up a bed several rows down. His entire right side of his face was wrapped in bandages, and his left side was covered in ointment from all of its scrapes and bruises.

I felt a surge of sympathy, and once I approached his bedside, my stance became more concerned.

"Hey, you alright?" I put a hand on his bed and looked into his good eye.

"I've.. been better, Feckter." He winced as he tried to move. After a moment, I gestured for him to just relax. He smiled and sunk back into the bed. "And how are you?"

"I've been better too." I sighed, and the burden of everything seemed to be placed on me once again. Like the weight was just building, building, and all of my responsibilities and decisions were piling up and slowly driving me insane. The two sides of me fighting in my head, causing me to be irritated. My coldness and out-of-character behavior. My dreams, and what I apparently looked like emotionally.

Weary soul.

"Yeah.. I bet yesterday wasn't the best for you either."

"You have no idea." I gripped my forehead. "It's been a nightmare."

"I have every idea." He waved a hand in front of his face, gesturing to all of the wounds he's been suffering for the past twelve hours.

I gave the smallest of laughs. "Yeah, I'm sure you do."

I got the tiniest bit closer and examined his face. Small lines indicated glass wounds, scrapes from miniscule pieces. His entire covered eye. "How do your wounds feel? Did the medics say how long it would take to heal?"

"They're terrible. I feel like I got thrown into a blender, and then someone stitched me back together with barbed wire."

My eyes widened.

"...And the medics said that my face will be mostly healed in a few weeks. They told me that my bad eye will never work the same again, and it may even change color." He cracked a smile. "I hope it'll look cool. That glass shard scraped me right in the wrong spot, and I think I've paid enough in pain to have a cool-lookin' discolored eye."

"I would say you have." I too, cracked a smile. But this was more a tug at my lips than anything else.

"Yeah. And these little scrapes will be fine, I think," Silvsley said a little uneasily. "I hope to one day regain my dashing good looks."

I smiled a little wider, and stood. "I should probably go. Don't want to keep you awake."

"Medics always want you to rest, don't they?" Silvsley laughed, then coughed. The same medic from yesterday, the one with big eyes, was a couple beds away. She was tending to another agent, but when she heard his comment, she looked up with fake-offended eyes. He started coughing, and she came over to check on him.

"Everything okay over here?" She asked politely, her focus on Silvsley. "How is your throat?"

"I'm fine, I promise!" Silvsley exclaimed, exasperated. "I just got a little something in my throat! All you people are so quick to ask!"

She nearly rolled her eyes, then seemed to notice me. "Oh, it's you from last night. Did you rest well?"

I turned from SIlvsley, and shook my head slightly. "I slept.. through the night. But I woke up feeling terrible."

She nodded curtly. "I understand. A few more days of uninterrupted sleep will do the trick, I think. It's in your best interest to keep your body in a routine, consistent sleep schedule."

I nodded back. "I understand. I just find sleep hard to capture, if you know what I mean." I smiled wearily.

She looked at me with her large, tired eyes. "Yes. I find a decent sleep schedule hard to maintain. Being a medic is not easy."

I gave a short laugh. "Can't take your own advice, mm?"

She snickered in return. "No."

Silvsley interupted. "Well this is great and all, but my face is hurtin' a lot, so I'd appreciate it if you could let a man rest. You know, like you want me to?"

The medic looked down at him, where he was laying. "Of course. Have a good evening, miss."

"Thank you, ma'am." I tried to bring warmth to my tone, but it was a weak attempt.

I turned my attention to Silvsley. "I hope you heal, my friend."

He smiled weakly. "Au revoir, Feckter."

Part of me broke down internally. "Au.. revoir."

I turned and left level 4. I left the lights of the medical floor behind. My senses were dimmed, my mind was a mess.

Silvsley can only see out of one eye because of you. And you never even apologized. One voice in my head began to speak.

It's not our fault! He didn't even know to duck!

He's never been on this kind of mission before! The voice shouted back.

I stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed behind me. I leaned against the wall of the elevator, too consumed by my thoughts to move. My usual warmth seemed frozen over. I was torn in two.

DIXTER DID NOTHING TO DESERVE BEING SAVED.

HE'S THE ONLY PERSON THAT COULD EVER LOVE US RIGHT. HE'S THE ONLY ONE.

HE BETRAYED THE AGENCY. HE BETRAYED US.

HE CAN BE FORGIVEN. WE JUST NEED TIME.

SHUT UP!

Back and forth, the voices bickered. The ice cracked my mind in two. The warmth from Silvsley melted it for a moment, and when it froze back over, the crack was deeper, more severe. Ice wedging my mind into two parts, both equally strong, both sides of myself unable to make a decision.

Do we save him? Do we leave him to die?

SAVE HIM. HE'S ALL WE HAVE AND HE'S OUR SOULMATE.

LET HIM ROT IN CHAINS NEXT TO HIS FATHER, SO HE CAN THINK ABOUT ALL HE'S DONE. LET HIM DIE LIKE THAT.

That didn't feel right.

Can we forgive him?

HE DID NOTHING TO DESERVE ANYTHING FROM US. HE BETRAYED OUR LOVE.

HE DESERVES A SECOND CHANCE, JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.

Quiet seemed so far away. Peace seemed impossible.

The elevator dinged. The note didn't affect me in the slightest.

The bags under my eyes seemed to sink into my skull. I looked up at level 2's hallway. The executives offices lined each side, and Chief's office sat at the end.

LET HIM DIE.

SAVE HIM.

I walked half-heartedly towards the Chief of B.L.A.D.E. I knocked on the door and waited absent-mindedly for a response.

"Come in." Chief's voice came from the other end.

I opened the door. The last time I was here, I was taking Uilter to Chief to see if he could join B.L.A.D.E.

She'd cleaned up from before. Earlier, she'd still had coffee rings on all of her plans of attack, crumpled up pieces of paper littered on the floor. Shredded plans littered on her desk, notes all over blueprints of M.A.S.K. headquarters.

But everything was alright again. She'd picked up trash, threw away the shreds. Her pinned-up plans were now properly hung in neat rows. Papers from her desk were in organized lines next to the hanging ones.

She'd seem to be physically put together, as well. Her hair was properly washed and brushed, her eyes were clear and content again. Her smile was more genuine when she looked at me.

I wondered if the weariness behind her eyes would ever go away.

"Hello, Chief." My voice was tired, and cold.

"Hello, agent." Her smile faltered when she heard my voice. She currently had a hologram of M.A.S.K. HQ up. On her desk, she had a paper labelled, PLAN R. "Did you need something?"

"I have a lot to tell you, actually." I took a seat in one of the dark oak chairs in front of her. She dismissed the hologram, and gave me her full attention. "It's been a bit since we last spoke."

She nodded in agreement, her eyebrows drawn upwards in a concerned expression. It must have been because of my stark tone. "It's been a moment."

I took a deep breath, and tried to calm my splitting, roaring mind. First things first: Uilter died.

"Agent Uilter.. The new one you just recruited. He was murdered in an alleyway beside what I guess to be a M.A.S.K. base on the far side of the city. I think he was killed by Agent Dristix."

Her eyes widened. "I knew he passed away. That very agent told me he'd gotten into a terrible car accident on the way back from the B.L.A.D.E. club."

I shook my head. "She lied. I believe she's been M.A.S.K.'s ticket to planting spies. That's the only opening I can see. You trust Dristix, she lets in spies, spies tell M.A.S.K. everything."

She looked offended. Her brow furrowed, and her warm caramel eyes hardened. "Every new agent passes through my office. I can usually tell if they're a spy or not."

"No you can't. We have several spies. You said it yourself. That's the only way that M.A.S.K. can know every move of ours like they have been. They must have many. And if Dristix is the one that you've been trusting, then she's been letting them in."

"But I trusted her." She looked down, either in shame or frustration. "How could she betray her family?"

"Maybe B.L.A.D.E. never was her family." I noted quietly, my voice echoing throughout her office.

It sounded like the truth. Chief's anger dissolved, and she sighed. "You're probably right. That's the only option, isn't it?"

I sighed as well. Some of the tension in my back eased up. "I wish it wasn't. But that seems like the most probable."

"Oh, Feckter, why must everything be my fault?"

I sat there silently as she placed her face in her hands. After a moment, she looked up. It wasn't until we met eyes that I spoke.

"I don't think it is. Honestly. I believe that the president's been using your kindness against you. You're too accepting, too welcoming. Everything about you is warm and loving, and that's why it's so easy to get by you. You're too busy being the motherly Chief that we all know you to be to notice when M.A.S.K. agents walk into your office. They're disguised as helpless children and teenagers, and you take them as they are and bring them into the black agency, no questions asked. You're compassionate to a fault."

Her eyes shone with an emotion I couldn't describe. "I'm.. too nice?"

I sighed, looking away from her expression. "Yes. And I used to have the same issue."

"What happened?" Chief blinked away whatever it was.

"This was the other thing I have to tell you." We locked eyes. "Dixter's been kidnapped my M.A.S.K."

"What?" Her mouth hung open, and her eyes went wide.

"He's the president's son."

"I knew it," Chief exhaled. She cursed under her breath. "I knew he was a double-crosser. All this time apart from me, he was bound to fall for someone else."

"Dix is just a year older than me. This probably happened over nineteen years ago." The gears continued to turn in my head. "But who would it be?"

Chief sighed. "I wish I knew. I stopped keeping tabs on him after we split up."

"You two were never married, though?" I'd had this question ever since I knew that the two used to be together.

"We never tied the knot. But we dated for a painfully long time. I've tried desperately to leave him in the past, but he comes back in attacks me in every mission, every murder, every kidnapping against B.L.A.D.E. It hurts to know that the man I used to love is the one behind all of M.A.S.K."

"Wait.. Did the president start M.A.S.K.?"

"Yes." She looked down, her brow furrowed and her eyes closed. "Around the same time I became Chief."

"So how long has it been?"

"About 22 years," Chief calculated. "He's got to be in his fifties now."

"Do you hate the president?" I asked softly.

"No, I don't hate Gavin, despite all he's done. I'd describe the feelings as heavily disappointed. He's just a person that's made a lot of mistakes, just like the rest of us."

She sighed again. "I'm no better than him."

I couldn't let this slide. My frozen mind began to thaw once again. "Brianna. You can't possibly believe that. Do you know how much you've done? You've saved hundreds of children, now dedicated agents that want to serve the greater good, probably because of the example that you've led. It's you. You are the one that's made the black agency what it is today. You're the one that has given all of these people second chances. Without you, B.L.A.D.E. would probably be a miserable place to grow up. I wouldn't want anyone else leading our agency."

I looked her dead in the eyes. "Everyone here loves you. I can see it in the way they treat you. Every agent respects you, and sees you as a mother figure. We wouldn't have the same community without you."

After several seconds of silence, she spoke. "Oh, Feckter.."

She reached across her desk and touched my hand. "Your words mean so much to me. But honestly, I'm not sure I'll be able to believe it. I've let an unknown number of spies into our agency, and–"

"You couldn't have known!" I exclaimed, jumping up out of my seat. I held her eyes the entire time. "They were all undercover, and the agent you trusted to back you up turned out to be a murderer! There's no way you could have seen that coming."

I lowered my voice, and sat back down. "I'm just saying. You couldn't have known."

She took a moment to let my words settle. "Thank you, Feckter."

She took a deep breath. "It'll be awhile until I forgive myself. But until then, I'll just have to rely on your words."

"Please do. I want you to believe in yourself, and to know that we all believe in you. I can speak for all of us when I say that." My tone was soft, and my expression had lost its edge. "Please, don't forget what I've said. You are far more valued than you realize, Brianna."

She nodded, and she looked prepared for whatever else I had to tell her. "There's probably more to the story than just "Gavin said that Dixter is his son," mm?"

I gave a dry laugh. "Yes, there's more."

I went on to tell her the rest of what happened last night. I was completely thorough, and I didn't leave out a single detail.

I told her about how we used grenades, how they eventually shattered the building. What happened when I saw the white car pull up. How Dix reacted, what happened when we went out to face the president.

How I couldn't even take a step.

"Chief, I.." I looked down, breaking my sentence off. "I couldn't even move. It's like I was paralyzed. It was so unexpected, and I.." I didn't know how to finish.

"I don't blame you. Hearing something like this is hard." She looked at me with soft eyes. "You must learn to forgive yourself."

"But is it even a problem? Should I rescue Dix? What did he do to deserve being saved?"

But what didn't he do. The voice whispered in my head. What did he do to deserve being abandoned?

"Chief, I don't know what I'm supposed to do. He's done something seemingly unforgivable, and I didn't even have it in me to say anything."

I dropped my head into my hands. "The only thing I said was goodbye."

Her voice was just above a whisper, tender as could be. "Is that the last thing you want to say to him?"

YES.

NO.

"I'm not sure. It's like my mind is divided into two halves, and I can't possibly decide." I rubbed my face with a new kind of exhaustion. "I feel like I'm being ripped apart."

"Well, at least this is for certain: M.A.S.K. did this. And there's nothing you could have done to prevent it from happening. All of your actions are in the past, and you can't go back and change them. So work with what you have now, what your current options are now. You can only move forward, Feckter."

I took a deep breath, letting the truth wash over me. She's right. She's right. She's right.

Her words from several days ago emerged in my thoughts. I've meant every word I've ever spoken.

"You're right, Chief. I just have to focus on what's in front of me."

She gave me a proud smile. "That's my girl."

I grinned back, and things were alright for a single moment.

"Now, there are probably other things, correct?" she asked, placing her chin on folded hands.

I sighed. "Yes. Remember when I said that the president wanted us to call off all plans of attack if we wanted to see Dix live?"

She nodded curtly.

"Right. So, I'm not sure about your plan of attack.. When you spoke to us the other day, were you aware you were telling spies B.L.A.D.E.'s plan?"

"Of course I was aware. I had to lead them on," she said with a knowing look in her eye. "You didn't think that was our actual plan, right?"

I breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Of course. That makes a lot of sense. Throw the white agency off, feed spies the lies, have them report it back to their leaders.. That clears things up. I left feeling so confused."

She smiled. "I needed to plant something, give our enemies something to believe. I wanted to give hints that I was merely feeding them lies, and that's why I grouped everyone together. I hoped that the delivery would make my loyal agents skeptical."

"Well, you had me worried. I'm glad you had a masterplan."

She seemed to be relieved that I could tell something was up. She was relying on that. She was relying on us being able to see past the grand show she was putting on.

"Speaking of masterplans.." She stood, and waved on the hologram. It jumped into the air, hovering above the glass top in her desk. "I haven't told you mine yet."

"Woah."

The hologram was a large collection of ideas, all written in the air. It seemed to be several weeks worth of work. Paragraphs on top of each other, notes scrawled to the side, huge arrows and systems of organization, subsections and lines marked in holographic red. Underlines, italic, bold, my eyes didn't know where to focus. The entire collection lifted above the glass for several feet.

"This is amazing."

"Eh." She shrugged. "Just all my ideas."

Chief whipped out a pen from one of her pockets. "But, all of this changes if we have an agent being held captive."

WE DON'T WANT TO SAVE HIM.

HE DESERVES TO BE SAVED.

HE DOESN'T DESERVE TO BREATHE.

I set my weary eyes upon where she was writing.

She found an empty space near the bottom, and began to write in the hologram with her pen. The technologically advanced pen was a sight to behold. Its tip began to glow white when she turned it on, and it dutifully poured out hologrammed ink for her to write with. It was like a normal pen, but she wrote in the air with mimicked lines. It only existed within the display.

"That's incredible." I whispered as she wrote.

"I know. I love this thing." She smiled and read what she had written. "AGENT DIXTER is being held hostage by M.A.S.K. ANY OBVIOUS attack will put this agent's health and safety in grave danger. AVOID AT ALL COSTS."

I nodded, my eyes downcast. Hearing it repeated back to me was like hearing my mistakes all over again.

You couldn't have done anything even if you wanted to.

HE DESERVES TO DIE.

You couldn't move, you were in shock.

YOU DIDN'T MAKE ANY MISTAKES. HE DESERVES WHATEVER M.A.S.K. DOES TO HIM.

It was painful to listen to. The voices in my head were constant now, and it seems that neither would win.

"Chief, would you like to explain your masterplan to me?" I tried my best to ignore the chaos that my splitting mind was and focus on the leader of B.L.A.D.E. I needed to distract myself from my warring consciousness.

She grinned like she was about to tell me a big secret. "I've been keeping this to myself for weeks, just waiting for someone I could trust completely. I think I've found her."

Her words echoed through my mind, quieting the two sides temporarily. "Thank you."

She nodded a you're welcome, and went on to explain. "Phase One: Gather information about our status. I need to know how our supplies are, how many B.L.A.D.E agents are capable of fighting in a war of this size, backups and outcomes, and finally strategies. We discussed this with the executives, I'm sure you remember."

She stopped and looked at me for a reaction. "Yes, Chief," I said with a nod.

She nodded back as she spoke. "Once I had that information, it was time for Phase Two: Eliminate our enemy's most dangerous projects. On that list was your shortblade mission, which I gave to you during our executive meeting, as well as all of the missions planned for the past three days. That includes last night. I wanted to make sure we had our priorities in order."

"Makes sense."

"Mm hm. And Phase Three: Identify spies. I've been keeping a hidden list of all those I've deemed suspicious, and marked them when I have proof that they're spies."

She narrowed her eyes with an emotion I couldn't place. "Dixter.. was not on that list."

I could only look at her face. I hadn't been expecting it either.

Not in the slightest.

"But, um.. I have been guarding this list, adding to it and modifying. My verified spies are agents Letsyaer, Goldsriete, Battieyst, Greundmast, Helfriest, Clubatry, Ionsrick, Hestprod, and.. Dristix."

"You'd believed me when I suspected her?"

"I trust you more than her now."

I looked up in surprise. "What?"

"It's true. Anyone that acts as someone I can trust, reports to M.A.S.K. like I did nothing for them, then goes on to kill one of my agents is unquestionably my enemy. But, I have to keep up appearances and try my best to look like I still care for her as one of my own B.L.A.D.E. members."

"That must be difficult," I replied, trying to imagine what that must be like for her.

"It is. She can't suspect a thing." Chief sighed.

"It must be hard nurturing so many agents."

"It's.." She rubbed her temples. "Exhausting. Trying to keep up appearances for some, trying to befriend and get close to the new ones, trying to keep up with everyone I've made some sort of relationship with.."

"I'm sorry," I gave my condolences. "I wish you could trust everyone."

"Me too, Feckter."

We shared a very readable look.

We were exhausted. From the ever present threat of M.A.S.K., from the slowly infiltrating spies, from the general lack of complete trust for any given agent. From the building fear of the outcome of the war. From the anxiety of what could come from it.

Who we could lose.

Chief broke the thoughtful silence by clearing her throat. "Speaking of people I can trust, I was planning on only telling my masterplan to a select few.. The ones I could wholly, without a doubt trust. The agents I've known for years, the ones I've kept close tabs on, and those who have no ties to the white side whatsoever."

Her caramel eyes searched the ground for the right thing to say. "I've.. known few people quite like you."

"What do you mean?" I asked. Finally, for once, the warring voices in my head hushed to listen without my command.

"Well, for starters, your mother and I were very close. Getting to watch her daughter grow up to be someone as amazing as you was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I wouldn't trade you or her for anything this world has to offer."

The words pounded in my skull. I've meant every word I've ever spoken.

"Your origin also has a place in my heart.. Your mother was Colored, and your father was not. She married a Kistrian, and that helped integrate the Colored species into the city's population.. and B.L.A.D.E.'s. We're more Colored than not, but you knew that already."

I nodded eagerly, waiting for anything else she'd tell me. Dixter was slipping from my mind.

"I'm only 25% Colored, but your mother's bloodline managed to remain completely pure. She was a pure Colored, and I think her great-grandparents fled into Kistra after the original Colored lands were being urbanized. They only married pures as well, after they found their soulmates with the color reaction. It's the same one that you and.." She trailed off and couldn't meet my eyes.

Like a flood, my mind was screaming.

HE'S OUR SOULMATE.

HE BETRAYED THE ONLY PEOPLE THAT EVER TREATED HIM RIGHT.

WE HAVE TO SAVE HIM.

HE'LL DIE IN M.A.S.K. NEXT TO HIS FATHER.

I felt as though I was about to explode. "Chief, would you mind wrapping this up?"

She jumped a little, and spoke quickly. "Yes! Of course. Um, the group of agents that I trusted the most. Yes. Those that were closest to me were the only ones I could give full access to the real plan.. But you're the first I've told. Anyways."

I gestured for her to breathe.

She nodded and spoke with more control. "Okay. So, I never mentioned this when I spoke to everyone on level 5, but the fake plan I'd told everyone that day was to be initiated in a week. I plan on having another gathering tomorrow evening. That event is going to be my war prep rally."

"Tomorrow, once all of the agency and all of the spies within B.L.A.D.E. hear of the six-day countdown, I'll explain what to do in order to prepare the agency. Then, the spies that hear it will report it back to their leaders, and they'll begin preparing for an attack from us."

We're just going to assume that M.A.S.K. isn't going to attack first?

"Chief, why would you assume that the white agency wouldn't bring an attack on us?"

"Well, first off, they haven't invaded us yet, and that means they either have a really brilliant plan that they're acting on in the shadows, or they're waiting for some sort of signal, or for us to attack first. They also may just be waiting to see what kind of damage we do to them before they send their forces to us.

"Second of all, their HQ is built like a fortress disguised as a skyscraper. I know this because I've been staring at its blueprint for weeks. They wouldn't have a lot of fear regarding how sturdy their base is against an invasion.

"Third of all, they've been forcing all of their members to work tirelessly at their rigorous training courses, and they're highly persuaded by money. That's why most M.A.S.K. members join in the first place. Higher pay, higher training, highly prepared army at the blink of an eye. And suddenly, M.A.S.K. has nothing to fear."

"That.. makes a lot of sense." My eyes darted left to right, trying to wrap my head around everything. "Okay.. So you're planning for another agency-wide meeting on level 5 again.. tomorrow."

"Yes. And I plan on making this one later in the evening so that everyone can come."

"But.. if that's when you're telling everyone more of the fake plan, what's the real plan? What are your trusted agents and I going to be doing? And if their spies tell M.A.S.K. that we plan on attacking, what are they going to do to.. him?"

She looked at me with a sense of pride. "Now you're thinking like a chief."

I didn't know what to say. The last word echoed in my mind, and time seemed to slow. Several seconds passed before she continued.

"The night after tomorrow, I'll gather my most trusted agents. That's when I'll tell everyone my real plan. That's also when I'll explain to them why I've told the rest of the agency the fake plan, and why we're doing this one. M.A.S.K. has to believe the falsehoods I give them, so that they're at a sort of disadvantage when we attack a day early. They won't be expecting it, and the element of surprise is what I'll be relying on. What we'll all be relying on."

"Your next question.. hm. Word will get to the white agency's president that we plan on attacking, and.. Dixter may not be safe anymore." She gave a long sigh. "Feckter, I'm really sorry–"

"Don't.. apologize." I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

WE CAN'T LET CHIEF DO THIS.

WHAT CHOICE DO WE HAVE? IS ONE MAN'S DEATH WORTH THE FATE OF B.L.A.D.E.?!

THAT ONE MAN IS THE ONLY CHANCE WE'LL EVER GET!

"Sorry, my mind is a bit of a war zone right now. Yes, I think it's worth it to risk Dix's safety, at least temporarily. If all of B.L.A.D.E. depends on it. Maybe there's a chance that they'll wait to kill him in front of us, and maybe we'll get a chance to rescue him.."

Chief looked at me with disappointed eyes. I couldn't bear to look. "You'd risk it?" she asked.

"He betrayed the only family he knew. He couldn't even tell me what he'd been keeping a secret. He did so much to me.. I'd wait a few days."

"Oh."

That one word spoke volumes.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? DO YOU HEAR HOW DISAPPOINTED SHE IS?

THE ENTIRE AGENCY WILL FALL IF WE DON'T TAKE THIS RISK!

DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? HE COULD DIE!

THAT'S NOT OUR PROBLEM ANYMORE.

I clutched the sides of my head. "I'm sorry Chief," I managed to say. I sat upright and tried to calm my mind.

"Don't apologize. I imagine this is hard for you."

HE SHOULD DIE.

SAVE HIM.

"Yes, Chief."

"You.. look like you need some rest. How about you go back to your dorm and try to relax?"

I will never relax. Not in my entire life.

"I'll see if I can," I sighed. I stood up and began walking out the door.

"Oh, um. One more thing before you go.. Something to keep Dixter off your mind."

I stopped and turned to listen.

"Colves and Sy are together now," she explained with a bit of hope.

The old me would have smiled widely, laughed, asked a bunch of questions with enthusiasm. I would have runned to her and jumped up and down. I would have claimed that I knew they would end up together.

All I could do was smile weakly and speak in a soft tone.

"Good for them."