Chapter Nineteen

I woke up to the sound of persistent, loud beeps, which were now my alarm. I'd replaced it after my training had become more intense. I'd needed to get up earlier, faster.

I sat up straight in bed, without desire to remain underneath the covers. I had one hour before our fleet of agents would attack the enemy's headquarters.

I quickly got out of bed, throwing the covers back with perfect aim. I pulled on my black cargo pants, my black long-sleeve active shirt, my thick close-toed shoes. I transferred my reloaded guns into my pant pockets, my sharpened knives into their holders and into my side pockets. I unloaded everything necessary from my multi-pocketed jacket into these pants. I knew I'd be changing into a "window-cleaner's" jumpsuit, so I didn't pack my pockets to their full capacity.

I brushed my teeth, brushed my hair and put it into a tight ponytail. By now it was 1:20pm, and I headed to the kitchen for a protein shake. After that, I headed for the front door, then the elevator. I assumed that we'd wait on ground level before our departure.

I pressed the button for level 1, and the doors closed. My face had no expression.

At level 33, two girls joined my elevator. One of them was the girl that wore the yellow hoodie with the spray-painted crystal, and the other I recognized from Chief's office. I nodded to them, they nodded back. We didn't speak a word.

At level 27, a single boy stepped into the elevator. He, too, was from Chief's meeting. We all nodded to him, and he nodded back.

Then we reached ground level. The two guards standing by were surprised to see us, as they likely hadn't been informed of the actual plan.

"Guards, there are going to be twenty-two of us this evening. We've been sent on a mission directly from Chief, and we'll be leaving together at 2pm." I explained in a calm voice.

"If it's from Chief, by all means." The agent on the left replied. She opened the hidden wall before us, gesturing with her arm. I remembered her name beginning with an R. Ever since the threat of war became more prominent, I'd had a worse memory of the guard's names.

When the R agent had opened the wall, we got hit with the scent of rain. I didn't know if the weather would help us keep cover or damage our weapons. I had to hope, though I was beginning to lose what little I had.

Slowly, agents arrived, coming in groups of 2 or 3. By 2pm, everyone had gathered in the dark, metal tunnel leading to the outside world. We were all dressed in clunky, dark clothes. Most had grays and blacks, with filled pockets.

I did a quick headcount, before announcing that we were all here. The guards wished us luck and handed us umbrellas.

When the metal sheet hiding the entrance to our underground agency was moved, we saw just how heavy the downpour was. It looked like an ocean was falling from the sky.

We stepped out into the rain, and thunder cracked above our heads. I was concerned if we should follow through with the plan involving us scaling the outside of a metal skyscraper.

Us agents exchanged looks. Some shrugged.

One boy across from me spoke in low tones. "The rain could provide more cover. If we see lightning, we use a different strategy."

We collectively nodded.

A female agent on my right suggested that we split up, as a whole crowd would seem suspicious. We silently went along with it, and we all began walking towards M.A.S.K. HQ. We knew that grappling or any sort of transportation could arouse suspicions.

The streets were filled with daystrollers in gray clothes and umbrellas. We opened ours and blended in perfectly.

Chief's plan involved us seperating into groups, the ones who would disable security and those who would run the window-cleaning operation. I wasn't sure if we'd be using that plan, since the logic didn't even make sense. The rain would have already washed the windows enough.

We all seemed to be pondering this as we walked individually. When we met up at the street of M.A.S.K. headquarters, we picked a covered alleyway to discuss our plan.

I closed my umbrella. "We could just use the window-cleaner's elevator on the outside of the building."

The boy next to me shook his head. "We would get struck by lightning."

I looked at him. "I'm not sure we have much of a choice."

"She's right." The girl diagonal to me spoke up, closing her umbrella. "We won't be able to perfectly follow the plan."

"What other options are there?" Another agent said from behind me.

"We can't storm it with the twenty of us," a female voice remarked.

I raised my voice. "I say we follow the plan. We disable security and use the window-cleaner's platform, and try to reach the top as quickly as possible. We'll go one at a time, like the plan. I'll storm the office and take out the president while he sleeps. And if there's lightning.. Touch the building. The electricity will go through you rather than absorbing into your nervous system."

A series of nods followed my proposal. I looked around at everyone. "Okay. Should we use the disguises?"

"It'll keep our weapons dry," one agent suggested.

"But is it worth our time?" Another girl looked at the agent. "It would seem out of place since it's raining."

I narrowed my eyes. We didn't have time for this. "We'll use our umbrellas, or use inside pockets. Let's get moving."

That seemed to satisfy everyone. We took up our umbrellas and went back out into the streets, trying to seperate ourselves as much as possible. We blended well with the city people, and our black umbrellas went side-by-side with theirs.

The wet street looked like a smooth river of asphalt, and the puddles were hard to avoid. Loud cars honked in the traffic all around us as we split into different directions.

We arrived in our separated teams. The three security lookouts, the eight security breakers, the six watching out for the other five going in. The security teams took their places at the foot of the building, out of sight of the security cameras. The teams going in waited in a nearby alley for their signal.

The security team found the electric box on the side of the building, the one that connected to the city's power grid. They had to have an outside one to receive electricity, and this was the best way to access it. One of the agents pried the lid off, away from the public eye. She connected a B.L.A.D.E. technological interference device, or a BTID, to its mainframe. From there, the device was able to search B.L.A.D.E. database for all the security measures, and quietly disable them without setting off anything.

It worked like a charm. We watched the tiny red lights on the security cameras blink out. The next security issue would be slicing the glass once we reached the top of the building.

Since the doors were unlocked, two of the agents headed inside to manually switch off the window sensors. If they met any guards, it was obvious that they would simply knock them out and drag them into the security room with them. No one inside of M.A.S.K. would even know.

And that's exactly what they did. I watched them knock two men out and their figures move into the room to their left. These kinds of things were just protocall.

Once all of the security systems were offline, we were given the signal. A nod from those inside the building.

We moved from our alley way to the window-cleaning elevators stored at the base of the skyscraper. They were in their own separate balcony, away from street view. We slipped onto the balcony, uncovered the cover, broke the lock, and got the motorized pulley going. Two agents held umbrellas, one stood guard on the street, three got the pulley motor running, and I checked if the ropes were secure. The remaining four that would be going up with me remained in the alleyway until we were ready.

After a few moments, the ropes were secured and the pulley was functioning. The three working on the pulley finished the motor, and as the elevator began to rise, I stepped onto the platform.

All according to plan.

I held my umbrella over my head, preparing my glass-cutting tools in my right hand. I had hidden them in an inner pocket of my pants. Once I was above two stories, the climb to the top was much smoother, as the motor had already been running for a bit. It was a wonder they got it to start in the pouring rain, despite that the umbrellas covered the majority of it.

Thunder rumbled and cracked above me, and I prayed that nothing would strike M.A.S.K. headquarters. We didn't need another thing going wrong tonight. The weather was enough of a setback.

About twenty-five stories up, based on my estimations, I began to wonder how many stories this building had. It had to be over forty-five.

When I arrived at the top floor, I leaned my dripping umbrella against the glass pane. The height didn't bother me, it never had. The sky rumbled again, and I once again wondered if this was a good idea.

I was too far in now.

I cut the glass along the window's edge with precision, and gently tapped the window inwards. The thick glass was cut, and I was inside the white agency's headquarters.

The president's office. I was behind a large white, sharp-edged desk that appeared to be where he spent the majority of his time. There were papers and folders, plans and sticky notes, red and black pens. When the window opened, some of the papers went flying.

Thunder cracked behind me as I stepped down from the elevator, bringing the rain in with me. I threw my drenched umbrella to the side, staring directly ahead. My soaking hair flew behind me as I moved forward, looking for any signs of the president.

The ground team watched me get inside, and began lowering the elevator. I replaced the glass as carefully as I could, then turned around to look for the one I was sent to kill.

There was a door to my left, which I assumed was his bedroom. Directly in front of me were a series of long steps leading down to the center doors. They looked heavy and heavily-secured, and I guessed that a hallway was behind them.

But my attention was on the door to my right, the one that I thought was his bedroom. I carefully, quietly walked over to it. I had no idea what to expect on the other side.

My shoes made a wet, alarming sound on the marble floor, and I hoped they wouldn't be what gave me away. I hesitantly reached for the expensive-looking door handle. I pulled ever so slowly.

I was correct. It was a bedroom.

But the president of M.A.S.K. wasn't sleeping.

He was sitting directly upright at the foot of his perfectly-made bed, in a white tailored suit and dress shoes. He looked like he hadn't been outside in years, with pasty, unhealthy skin. He had messy, greasy hair, and an unshaven stubble. But the worst part was his reddened, wild eyes.

"You know, Grace." He stood to his full height. "I've been expecting you."

I stood in mute realization. No words escaped my lips.

"Oh yes, I knew you were coming. Did you really think I wouldn't notice if my security room suddenly had a mind of its own?"

He paused, and I realized our mistake. Believing that this man's only measure of security was one room on the bottom floor, one electricity box on the outside of the building.

"And my son has told me plenty about you. Your true name, your color, your heritage. In fact, when he mentioned your family, I thought the names sounded familiar."

"You.. knew them?" I couldn't hide my utter shock.

"Knew them?" He gave a dark laugh, a twisted laugh that sent chills down my spine. Slowly he was stepping forward, making me inch backwards out the door. He kept his eyes focused on me. "I've been keeping your mother here for some time now!"

"You.." I sputtered the word. Nothing else came out of my mouth.

"Oh, but none of that matters." He'd backed me up the stairs, and we were inching towards the window. "Because as soon as I.." He reached out behind me, shoved the cut window out of its place, where it fell fifty stories. I heard a distant shatter, a scream. Then he grabbed the cables, whipped a knife out of his pocket, and began slicing the wires.

It took me too long to realize that the knife was searing hot, a glowing red-orange. He'd taken it out of a heating sleeve, one that could slice through any metal in seconds.

I shouted down to them, into my comm, something. "GET DOWN!"

He smiled in a sinister way, slicing the last wire before the torrential rain made his knife a useless gray. The line cut, the entire elevator fell all the way to the balcony. By the sound of it, the platform had fallen over twenty stories. There's no way anyone could have survived that.

I thought of my fellow agents, the ones I'd been with moments before. Most of them were likely dead. All because of the monster before me.

"What did you do?!" I screamed, enraged. I pulled my gun out of one of my pockets, and cocked it. I had no sympathy in my eyes. I planned on killing him where he stood.

"Ah ah ah." He waved a finger in my face. "Not yet."

He smirked. "Guards!"

Two men in white standard M.A.S.K. uniform dragged someone out of the central doors. He was bloodied and beaten, and he had a swollen lip, along with a black eye. He had shredded black and tropical red clothes hanging off of his frame.

Dix.

I lowered my gun, just staring at him for a moment. My mind tried to scream, but I screamed first.

"Dixter!" I exclaimed with exasperation.

He looked up with the greatest pain I'd ever seen in all my life. Just hearing my voice lifted his head, and he stumbled to the ground.

"Your little soulmate wouldn't be a good son and obey my commands." He glared at him like a child would glare at a puppy who he was about to punish with a shock collar. His black, black eyes told me he had no mercy in his stone heart.

He laughed like a hyena, the sound draining all the blood from my head. He walked over to Dixter, grabbing his arm and making him stand upright. He let out a yelp of pain. "Didn't you tell her? He's been using you."

"No, Feckter, please.." Pure desperation. "Don't believe him."

"Oh, but I'm right. Did I not plant you at a young age? Did you not willingly accept one of our missions? I recall you killing some people for MY agency.." He brought Braz closer to me, his bloodied body before me. "Don't you see? He's been lying to you your entire life! You have no reason to save him."

"Grace!" My head snapped to him, into those eyes. The person that I thought I knew, the one I once loved. "You know me. You know I wouldn't do such a thing. I didn't know I was his son until I was brought here, and he told me everything.. You know I wouldn't–"

"Silence! I'm telling the truth. He betrayed B.L.A.D.E. The entire agency. All of his friends. You, of all people. Your "Chief," if that's what you call her."

I didn't know who to believe. If Dix really betrayed the agency willingly, then maybe he's not the person I knew.

The president looked at me and waved his hand. "But a deal's a deal. So, what'll it be? I kill him now, or I kill you right where you stand." He cocked a gun from his suit, and aimed right for my head.

"Don't kill him!" I heard myself shout.

"Don't kill her!" I heard Dixter cry out.

We both looked at Braz, and his gun lowered a fraction of an inch.

"Kill me!" I exclaimed, focusing all their attention back on me.

Dix looked desperately at his father. "No! Please! At least send her to the Colored jail!"

The president of M.A.S.K. screamed back at him. "Do NOT call it that!" He shifted his gaze to meet mine. He seemed to weigh his options, mulling it over in his head. Then he gave a short nod, with an evil grin. "It is my little experiment. Your mother's taken part in it, actually."

He said these things as though it hadn't just shattered my world into a million pieces. SHE'S ALIVE. AND SHE'S IN THIS BUILDING.

"Come along then. Braz, you stay here. I don't want you getting any ideas with this pitiful attempt at murderer."

We locked eyes, and he looked as desperate as the day he was forced into that expensive white car. And again, I just stood there, unmoving.

Until the president came and snapped a technologically advanced pair of handcuffs on my wrists, wrenching my hands behind my back. As soon as the cuffs snapped shut, an electrical charge went down my spine and kept me from moving too much. I couldn't speak from the pain. The most I could do was walk.

The president and his two guards forced me out the doors, and into a nearby elevator. They shoved me inside, before I regained my footing to stand upright, my hair slipping from my ponytail and falling in front of my face. The elevator doors closed behind us, and one of the guards pressed the button for 48.

Then the monster spoke. "Guards, could one of you call reinforcements for my son? I believe he may not be thrilled with the idea of staying in my office."

"Yes sir." One of them spoke on their comm, quietly. The president kept repeating the words "my son," like he'd won some sort of game. And he's been shoving the prize in my face ever since that fateful day at the windsword operation.

The elevator rang out a robotic, dull clang. I would have covered my ears if I could move without being shocked into staying in place. It was tearing at my nervous system, making me terrified to move. It was a cursed piece of M.A.S.K. tech.

The doors opened. The president looked down at me. "You're in for a treat."

There was a single object in the room: A full-length mirror. It's edges were lined in engravings and symbols I had never seen before. The entire object had a suspicious shimmer to it, like it was more than it seemed.

"Grace, you have two options." The monster spoke from behind me. I hated the way he said my name. "One, you accept what you see in the mirror. I take your handcuffs off, you go in, you live the rest of your life out there in the wonderful world that you see. Two, you rot here in an inescapable jail cell for the rest of eternity. Your choice."

He shoved me towards the mirror. "Go on. Have a look."

I cautiously approached the mirror. I was wary of its intent, of his intent. I didn't know what would happen if I accepted.

At first, I only saw my face. It was my sweaty, wet face, my unkempt hair. Then the image changed.

It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. Hills, mountains, trees, grass, all made out of color. The sky was a swirling mix of all the colors I'd ever seen in my life. Beautiful, elegant greens provided the vegetation, vibrant, deep blues made up bodies of water. There were birds made of color, flying as high as the sky would allow. Different species of animals, wandering out of a Colored wood off to the side. Creatures I'd never seen before, with horns that disappeared into gaseous color at their ends, hooves made of solid color, fur made of liquid color. Ferns and grasses lined the forest floor, fields of flowers growing in natural patches beyond the next hill.

But next, I saw the village. I stepped one foot into the mirror for a better look. In the distance, I saw houses and buildings, all made out of color. People standing amongst them, all chatting amongst themselves, children laughing in the tall grass. I saw a single girl by the Colored river, setting a paper boat in the gentle stream, before watching the river's teals turn the boat teal. Women with color streaks in their hair, weaving color into clothes for their youth. Young men throwing color at each other in play, trying to cover each other before their fathers joined in.

I almost stepped another foot in, accepting my fate. I wanted so desperately to belong there.

But a voice stopped me.

Grace!

My color. Emerging from my heart, entering my mind. "What is it?"

You cannot go there. It's an illusion! If you fully step into the mirror, you will instantly become part of its color-sucking curse, and you'll never be able to return to Reidhak!

I looked at the world's brilliance, the vibrance of true color. The raw energy of it all. I gazed upon the hills, the valleys. The creatures and the people. "I have to accept this. This is all I've ever wanted! Look at all the people! They've become whole!"

IT'S NOT REAL! My Carribean teal shouted at me mentally, but I didn't listen. Her voice was becoming weaker, anyway. It didn't matter. I just had to get there.

"They're happy." I lifted my other foot off the ground.

Something stirred inside of me.

"They're free."

Listen to me. It was not the voice of my color.

The world froze. My body stopped moving, I couldn't control it anymore.

This is death. You must call upon your color if you are going to save your agency.

"But I don't know how!" I screamed with utter fear. All the confidence I once had escaped from me. The color from the mirror's image was reflecting in my eyes. I didn't know who was speaking to me.

You know how. You've always known.

"No, I don't! I've tried!"

Try now.

I took a deep breath. I knew now. "You're my soul."

Yes.

I narrowed my eyes. I called everything upon myself, every bit of Colored heritage I had. Every piece of hope, every belief about the Colored peoples. Everything that I knew about my color. The connection I felt with my Carribean teal. I closed my eyes and brought it all to my heart.

Then I called it into existence.

Physical, raw color collected in my heart, slowly dripping into my body from my soul. I felt it there, it was as natural as any blood.

My heart grew excited, pumping this new power along with my blood. It churned and collected, becoming one with my natural self.

I called it to my hands.

My heart began pumping the color directly to my hands. It sent it down my veins, igniting my human side with my Colored. It lit up my arms with a new form of light.

The color came from my veins to something I could hold in my hands. It churned, twisted, unused to being physical. It had been dormant in myself for so long.

Once I had enough color, I covered my hands in it. I commanded it to surround my hands as the color grew in amount.

I opened my eyes. It was time to destroy the illusion.

I gathered all of my strength, and threw the most powerful punch I'd ever thrown.

Immediately, the image of Colored paradise grew cracks where my fist made contact. The glass shattered, bringing me back to M.A.S.K. HQ. I landed on my feet in front of a broken frame.

Once I was back in the real world, my color became truly physical. My eyes went from a dull blue to a supercharged Caribbean teal, my veins continued to pump my colors until it was dripping from my hands.

I turned around to meet the president. The one that took my soulmate from me, then fed me lies about him. The one that turned my mind into a splitting chasm. The one that took my mother from me. The one that killed my father and my ancestors.

I faced him with an unlocked power. One that I wasn't afraid to use.

The second he saw my eyes, and what was in my hands, he looked absolutely terrified. He ripped open the door and slammed it after him, pushing past the two guards and sprinting for the stairs. I heard him scream, "RUN! Barricade the door!"

As the guards went to obey him, I collected more of my color and shaped it into a large hammer, preparing to break the door open.

That was, until I heard a cry from the other side of the room.

The hammer melted, and I collected it along my skin, my eyes still alight. I looked past the broken frame and found a door slightly ajar. I hadn't noticed it before because I was entranced by the mirror.

But now I heard the cries of many people, all behind one door. I opened it with curiosity, and an old light buzzed on, illuminating the terrible scene before me.

I saw rows of jail cells, all holding chained slumps of people. I recognized the humanoid color of their eyes, golds and oranges, purples and pinks, and my color pulled me in from my hands. It felt the connection.

The door stood agape behind me as I gazed upon the natives of Riedhak. They too, had dulled colors for eyes, for simply not using their color. Being trapped and alone, bound by chains.

An elderly man on my right was right up against the bars, and he put his chained hand out to me. His eyes were a dull honey color. In an old raspy voice, he said, "Please, help us. We're the only ones that have resisted that cursed mirror, and one of the last remaining peoples. These chains have metal that keeps our color from leaving our hearts. Could you help us, please?"

I looked at him with sympathy. "Of course." I formed my color into a razor-sharp, metal slicing blade, and hacked at the cell's door. It swung open, and I carefully removed the chains from around the man's wrists. He closed his eyes and rubbed his wrists, calling upon his color. Instantly, his eyes glowed honey, and he made a small streak in the air with his hands, before creating more of it.

He looked at me with immense gratitude. "Thank you, young woman. You have done what so many of us could not. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to throw my color again."

I smiled, relieved. I continued moving down the line of cells, starting with the woman across from him. Her color was cactus green, and she looked about thirty-five.

She rubbed her wrists as well, igniting her eyes as soon as the chains were off. "Thank you. They've barely been giving us food and water down here."

I went down the line, and was met with only thanks. Some prisoners were only children. Some looked like the first man I helped, and some were in their twenties. It seemed that the president did not discriminate between victims.

There were around fifteen prisoners, and about twenty minutes later, I was at the last one. This woman looked about forty.

I cut open the lock on her cell and slowly approached her. The rest of the Colored prisoners were behind me. "Miss?"

Then she looked up. Her face was identical to the portrait of my mother I'd made without reference.

"Mo.. Mother?"

She squinted, her shackles moving as she moved closer to me. "It can't be.."

After a shaky attempt at standing, I helped her to her feet. Her face was so similar to mine. "Is that you, Grace..?"

I blinked, and tears fell from my ignited eyes. "Yes, yes! It's me, mother!"

She fell into my embrace, shackles and all. Her frame was thin and malnourished, her hair was dirty and unwashed. But nothing mattered more than her in that moment.

The world faded away. It's her. It's really her. I'm holding the woman I've dreamed about for so long.

We seperated, and I gazed into her eyes. She was crying too. "I didn't know you were alive!"

She wept. "I'm so glad Chief took care of you!"

We stood like that for several moments as the prisoners erupted into cheers. One of the little girls began to cry with us.

ALIVE. ALIVE. AND IN MY ARMS. I had nothing else to think.

After some time, she took a step back. "Oh, please get these things off me."

I reformed my color and made a superiorly sharp blade once again. It was even sharper because of the overwhelming emotion I was feeling. I carefully, gently cut the chains from her wrists, and the final pair of shackles fell to the ground. She called upon her color that instant, her eyes burning a deep purple. She formed purples shards in her hands, gripping them in both fists.

We couldn't stop staring at each other. We were overwhelmed with love. We embraced once more.

"Your teal is very beautiful." She whispered into my hair.

"Your purple is stunning." I whispered back.

She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, standing back. "Okay. Okay." She took a moment to collect herself, her wild emotions. I did the same.

I looked at her, then at all those surrounding us. The last remaining purebred Colored in the entire city of Kistra. All with eyes alight, with their unique colors in their hands.

"Well. I think it's time we kill a certain president," my mother suggested calmly. The thought gleamed dangerously in her bright, deep purple eyes.

I stood to my full height. "Yes. I think it is."

Another round of cheers erupted from the group of Colored. We all turned and began marching out to kill the one who'd kept us chained for so long. The one who kept my mother from me. The one who had harmed, and killed so many.

We walked right past the shattered mirror, and several formed weapons of color attacked the door at once. A honey colored ax, a forest green whip cracked, a petal pink series of arrows. And of course, dark purple rhombuses and a Carribean teal windsword.

We laughed at the variety of weapons, before bursting down the door in one swift movement. Barricades went flying, and the two guards that were stationed there were dead within seconds.

Our group went directly for the stairs, where we travelled, looking for the president. We went one floor down before realizing that this building was the home of all M.A.S.K. agents.

They all heard the ruckus and emerged from different rooms. When they saw our vibrance and our weapons, they immediately scrambled for anything that would harm a Colored person. The group of forty was knocked out by a barrage of colors, but one eventually found a white, color-absorbing shield. It sucked everything that was thrown at it, and all who'd attacked it felt a pang in their hearts.

I was one of them. I'd thrown a teal grenade at him, but his white shield completely took it. It felt as though a part of my soul was taken from me.

I staggered, not expecting that kind of pain. About ten others did as well.

Eventually, one of the petal pink arrows found his head, and he was no longer a problem. But if enough M.A.S.K. members found those kinds of weapons, we wouldn't be able to defeat them.

My mother had fought with me, side-by-side. All around us were bloodied M.A.S.K. bodies and shattered masks. "Our color doesn't run out, does it?"

She laughed and took my hand. "Your color is unlimited. But when a shield takes your color, part of your power is temporarily weakened, and you are able to produce less. The real danger is the president's suit. It takes your power away, and it takes a much longer time to recover to full power. It hurts a lot more too."

My expression quickly became worried. "What can we do?"

She sighed. "Pray for B.L.A.D.E. to show up. If they don't, and M.A.S.K. agents find more shields, we may not have much of a chance."

At the mention of B.L.A.D.E., I quickly remembered my comm link to our HQ. "I'm going to try and reach them. Can you cover me?"

As soon as I finished my sentence, a huge explosion sounded beneath us. The walls shook, and one of the ceiling lights fell to the floor, crashing into a useless heap.

"Yes. The rest of you, go find out what's happening. We'll be there shortly." She commanded the others. They nodded and went down the stairwell.

I pressed my in-ear comm link, checking if it was still functional. I heard a faint buzz. "HQ? B.L.A.D.E. HQ, this is Agent Feckter, from the inside of M.A.S.K. headquarters. Can you read me?"

I heard nothing for a terrifying thirty seconds. Then a voice spoke up on the other end. "Agent Feckter, this is Communications Commander Agent Zelter, do you read me?"

"I read you. I need the status of our forces."

"We've sent in all of our eligible agents once we heard that your mission resulted in the death of eleven agents. Are you aware of this?"

I took in a sharp breath of air. "I was not aware. We will be heading downstairs shortly. Do you have a report on the forces that were sent in?"

"A lot of our agents are down, I have over a hundred reported deaths already. Please do what you can."

I gestured to my mother, and we went downstairs as quickly as we could. "We're on our way."

"Who are you with?" The commander questioned.

"I found my mother locked within M.A.S.K. She is one of sixteen who have a dangerous weapon called color. We will be using it to kill as many agents as we can."

"Good. I wish you luck." The comm went silent.

I sighed as we headed downstairs. "They've already sent in all B.L.A.D.E.'s got. I hope this works out."

She looked at me. "It has to. We have to have hope."

We arrived at the next floor and found a lot of dead men in white. Cracked masks littered the floor. Our group of Colored people stood at the center, all around a single body.

"No, no, no, no no no." My mother whispered, coming to the girl's side. She had several bullet wounds. She looked about ten.

The honey-Colored man was shaking. "She.. didn't know. How to stop them. The bullets. I tried to protect her best I could, but I couldn't.." He didn't finish his sentence.

I touched the man's shoulder. "It's alright. You did everything you could."

My mother held the girl's body, before gently setting it down again. "We should protect each other. If we lose, we lose a part of our heritage. We're all we have." She stood and looked everyone in the eye. "We can't lose any more. We fight until the end. Understand?"

With grim nods, the rest agreed, and we headed down the stairs to the next floor. I nudged my mother. "I think we should see how B.L.A.D.E. is doing at the bottom floors."

She nodded. "You go check on them, and come right back up here. I can't lose you. Protect yourself!"

I nodded and began to turn away.

She grabbed me and kissed my cheek. "I love you. Be safe."

I looked into her eyes. "I love you too. You be safe."

She nodded. "Make force fields! I'll meet you in a bit!"

"Bye!" I bolted down the stairs. I continued going down, down, down, until I saw the place that the explosion occurred. It blew up a floor's ceiling, and I could see below.

Dozens of B.L.A.D.E. agents with guns and grenades were having warfare against the M.A.S.K. members. Everytime the B.L.A.D.E. forces would win, they would move up a floor, and the sign on the stairwell read 11.

We were going to need more agents.

I sprinted back up the stairs before any spare bullets got me, just like I'd promised my mother. I eventually found the 46th floor, and burst in. All the Colored were standing in a dark purple force field that my mother was producing in the center. They were being attacked by bullets from four places at once.

I immediately burst into action. I threw my color from my hands and formed a large sword, which I used to slice one of the gunners in half. I threw up a shield of my own to protect myself from the other three. I pulled my spare gun out of one of my pockets and shot the two that were in one corner. Three down, one to go.

The last one had a Colored shield, and I simply threw a shard similar to my mother's. It curved around the shield like I designed it to, and hit the attacker in the neck. All the M.A.S.K. agents on this floor were dead.

My mother let down and ran to me. "Oh darling, you did so well! And you kept everyone safe!"

I smiled and met her where she stood. "Thank you. But B.L.A.D.E. forces are moving in from the ground up. They're really struggling, they've already lost over a hundred agents."

She seemed shocked, and didn't say a word.

"Should we help them or keep going down?" I asked her frantically.

"Hmmm." She thought about it for a moment. The other Colored gathered around us. "Well, if we go down, they'll have less work, and we can meet them halfway."

"What if they run out of agents before that happens?" I exclaimed.

She furrowed her brow, looking exactly the way I did when I was put under pressure. "You're right. Do you think we should help them, or keep doing what we're doing?"

I was subconsciously transforming the color in my hands into a spiky ball out of frustration. I let it go, and it sank back into my hands. "We should help the B.L.A.D.E. members. They're losing agents fast. When we rise with them, we'll be pushing the president upwards to his office. We'll flush him out of the floors."

Everyone agreed. My mother seemed to look at me with pride in her eyes, but I could have been mistaken.

We dashed towards the stairwell, going down as quickly as we could. We had to reach the black agency members soon if we were going to be able to help them in time.

We finally found the floor with the battle: 13. Everyone was quick to regain their old fighting skills, and were quickly able to add and change their technique. This meant that everyone was able to create shields in a matter of seconds.

We threw them up to protect ourselves, and I threw a color shield unto everyone that wasn't wearing white. It was easy to tell them apart.

"Everyone get down!" I yelled, trying to keep up three turquoise shields at once. I ducked behind the one on my right and let down my personal one.

I had created the color to harden against incoming bullets, and to soften to bullets going out. It seemed like everyone else had picked up on my methods, because the rest of the group had similar shields set up. The remaining M.A.S.K. agents were quickly wiped out. After a quick search of the rooms, we found that this level was clear.

"What... What is this?" One of the male B.L.A.D.E. agents asked, referring to my dissolving Colored shield. I was breathing heavy from my quick movements.

A dark red Colored answered him. "This is color. We are some of the last natives of Reidhak, and some of us have been chained in this cursed building for nearly twenty years."

"Wow." He looked across the room, at everyone's shields dissolving. "Are you going to help us win?"

"Absolutely." I mustered a smile to give him hope. I stood and held out a hand to him, and heaved him up, along with the other B.L.A.D.E. agents at his side. Soon enough everyone was on their feet.

"We have to keep moving up. The goal is to find the president and kill him, as well as defeat every M.A.S.K. agent here. We're up against a lot of people." I spoke with some confidence. I was losing it rather quickly, given our draining numbers and how many native Colored we had left.

More B.L.A.D.E. agents were coming up the stairs. I estimated we had about one hundred seventy-five agents left on our side.

The agent I spoke to stood on a table and addressed all the agents within earshot. "B.L.A.D.E. agents!" he shouted.

The exclamation got everyone's attention. Everyone turned and looked at him.

He looked over the crowd, not unlike Chief would do. Where is she? Is she at home? Is she somewhere here?

"These men and women have a unique ability called color. They can conform and twist it however they need to, just like the stories we were told. They're going to help us defeat M.A.S.K. Remember: Our goal is to defeat every last one of the M.A.S.K. agents, as well kill their president. Can we do that?!"

A series of cheers went up. He smiled half-heartedly and gestured towards the ceiling. "Let's go then!"

Unfortunately, in the time it took for us to gather ourselves, M.A.S.K. had been gathering on the floor above us. When we went up to the next floor, the entire level was chock full of highly-trained agents in white.

The Colored immediately formed a massive shield that protected everyone from the onslaught of bullets and other weapons. I was among the first to put theirs up, and I found that putting a shield up with others makes a much stronger protection. The shields pieced together like a large protective mosaic. And everyone had learned how to harden against the bullets coming in and soften to the ones going out.

But still, it wasn't enough. Somewhere along the hardening and softening, one bullet got through and shot one of the Colored. It was the dark red that had just spoken to the crowd.

In the panic of one going down, two more lost their grip, and those shields went down. Bullets got through and began killing B.L.A.D.E. members. In the frenzy, all the shields went down except for mine and my mother's. Two large sheets of protection, one Caribbean teal and one deep purple, were the last line of defense.

That was, until I let one slip and hit me in the shoulder.

The pain was immense, and I couldn't see straight. My mother screamed and let her shield down, bringing a new one around the both of us. The line of B.L.A.D.E agents behind us stepped up and shot down everyone in white that they saw, but still, it was not enough. They were attacking with greater force, killing everyone on our side that they could.

Until a grenade went flying. Directly towards us.

It landed in the center of the crowd, and only those paying attention knew to get away. The honey-Colored elderly man leaped forward, and curled up around the grenade before it exploded.

Blood was flying, agents scrambled to get away. My pain felt greater than any other pain. My vision was altered by my mother's shield around us. It was getting harder to breathe.

I heard a shout of "Color surge!", and then an explosion of color outside of our force field. Then the face of my mother.

"Are you okay?" She was frantically looking for something to bind my shoulder. She gathered more of her dark purple color and shoved it into my wound, ripping out the bullet. I screamed in pain.

Quickly, she gathered even more color to absorb the blood. She hardened it into a bandage that wrapped around my arm. "Shhh sh sh. Everything will be alright."

But the pain was enough to make me need to stand. I swayed for a moment before settling on two feet. I couldn't have anyone touching me. I needed to kill more.

She looked concerned. I rolled my eyes. "I'll be fine! I feel better already! I think your color might be helping!"

I staggered forward. I was going to make it. I had too much adrenaline not to.

The color surge wiped out everyone that wasn't behind the person creating the surge, so it killed all the M.A.S.K. agents out in the open. More of our agents searched the other rooms, and this floor was deemed clear.

The pain in my shoulder was diminishing quickly. I am going to make it. I am going to make it.

The next floor was the same amount of violence. I continued using my unlimited power. There were dozens of deaths on both sides, and I had the foolish hope to believe that we would win.

But our numbers continued to drop whereas M.A.S.K.'s continued to remain constant. We were in their space, where they had everything they needed.

Blood continued to be shed. Color flew, shields were put up, then broken. My mother continued to worry while I fought in the front lines. I could tell by her actions that she wouldn't jump back into battle until it was guaranteed that I would be safe.

But the next floor.. They had prepared the worst. M.A.S.K. had finally found our weak spot: the color-collecting shields. They would make it much harder to recover quickly.

Rows upon rows of the shields had been put up, protecting their agents from anything we had to throw at them. It was a nightmare come true.

The eight remaining Colored tried to attack the shields, before quickly realizing what they were and backing down. Our remaining B.L.A.D.E. agents rose up and continued to fight, but we were getting low on numbers. Rows upon rows of agents charged, and they never seemed to stop.

I was charging with the other agents, throwing up weapons of color at the last second to block attacks. The primary weapon was guns, however, so when I couldn't use my sword I would pull out my gun from my pocket. I had brought extra ammo.

I fired at the line of M.A.S.K. agents that were still attacking. My shoulder wasn't affecting me as badly, mostly because of my mother's color bandage. It seemed to be holding up.

When our agents stopped running up the stairs, that's when I began to really worry. When we ran out of agents, we were dead in the water. We had to come up with another solution before we lost too many more agents.

We used our remaining agents to continue our attack, but we were getting more and more desperate. We needed the M.A.S.K. agents to stop coming out of nowhere and killing more of us.

I dodged a bullet, and rolled to the side, behind an overturned table with some fellow agents. They were shooting what was left of their ammo. I had run out of bullets a minute ago, and now I was just throwing color into weapons, and praying that they went over the shields and into the sea of their heads. I got some pain in my Colored heart, and I knew that some of my color had been absorbed by their white shields.

The piercing sounds of the guns were beginning to make me lose my hearing. I felt a dull throb at the back of my head from the bombardment of loud noises. If I survived this, I'd probably have a splitting headache at the end of it all.

I glanced over the edge of the overturned table. I could see out forces losing their balance and beginning to retreat, with only some of the Colored still standing. Once I realized they needed backup, I stood to help. I threw a shield up above my head, covering my body. Once I made my way over to the B.L.A.D.E. forces, I joined force fields with the other Colored.

Screams, blood. Sweat and heat. The dull throb, a low ringing that continued to get louder. I was beginning to lose focus.

I glanced back to check on my mother. She was spending her energy bringing the wounded down a floor so that she could take the bullets out of them with her color method. I doubted her color would heal everyone, since her and I were related, but she was giving her best effort while everyone else fought.

I knew we were losing. I knew it in my gut.

I just wanted so desperately not to believe it.

The sound of helicopter blades snapped me back into my thoughts.

Is that really what I think it is?

When I heard the choppers, I thought I was dreaming. Or having a nightmare. At this point, it was hard to tell.

When I heard their footsteps on the stairwell, I was terrified. That they were M.A.S.K. reinforcements. That they were the Kistrian police force. That they were going to wound us farther than we already were.

But they were something much different.

The stairway door was riddled with bullet holes, but they opened it like it was a regular door. Both sides stopped firing for a moment, to see who this new party was.

It was a tall, muscular man with a unique type of armor we'd never seen before. It looked like a strange iridescent metal, and it looked stronger than anything I'd ever seen. Like it could deflect every single kind of weapon. All of its pieces had a logo I didn't recognize. An armored woman followed him, and another man followed her. Then they spoke.

"We are P.I.S.T.O.L., the People of Initiative Saving The Ordinary and their Leaders. We are here to help the organization B.L.A.D.E."

"That would be us," one of our members piped up.

The P.I.S.T.O.L. fleet leader checked a device on his wrist. "Excellent. Now, who are we supposed to be defeating?"

"The men in white, anyone wearing one of those masks." I replied.

Then, P.I.S.T.O.L. lived up to its acronym. It began firing out of machine guns of all things. The leader yelled back at me as he fired. "Gather everyone and keep them in a safe place! We'll let you know once the coast is clear."

I nodded to him and obeyed, getting the remaining forty-five B.L.A.D.E. agents and what was left of the Colored, only six, including my mother and I. We kept everyone in a tight circle on the level below, and all the Colored threw a force field around everyone. I stretched my arm out and hoped for all it was worth, forming a thick shield. We layered it, each of us providing a layer of protection. We tried not to look at the dying bodies around us, the ones my mother tried to save. We tried not to notice the blood on everyone, and all of our different wounds.

The building shook, and we huddled closer together. The Colored didn't have to hold our hands up in order for the force field to keep its form, we just had to be silently commanding it what to do.

We listened, sheltered by our own protection as the floor above us creaked and rumbled. It reminded me of the thunder from earlier.

At one point, it seemed a bomb had gone off. The ceilings above us shook violently, I thought I saw a piece of the building fall off through the window.

After about ten minutes of this, it moved on to the next floor. Then the next floor. Then the next.

Still, we were shaken with everything that had happened. The gunshots, the instant death, the bodies on the ground. It took me a moment to process everything.

After a long stretch of silence, we heard footsteps from the stairwell. I commanded my color to become thicker, in case it was our enemies.

A P.I.S.T.O.L. agent stepped out of the stairwell."Hey, everyone. It's safe now."

All the Colored let down their shields. But I was still suspicious. "You've killed every single M.A.S.K. member?"

The agent studied me. "...Yes. Though we couldn't find their leader. We assume that he found some sort of way to escape."

I glanced at my mother. My heart rate rose. "I don't think.."

She shook her head and clicked her tongue. "Gavin wouldn't leave his headquarters after it was attacked like this. Especially when he never got his revenge on B.L.A.D.E. I believe he's here somewhere."

I narrowed my eyes. "I think I know where he is."

Everyone from all agencies looked at me, and I began telling them that when I first got here, he threatened to kill me or a hostage. That I thought that he wouldn't just escape without killing me or this man himself. And he would want me to be there.

No one seemed to disagree, since I had been in M.A.S.K. headquarters the longest. "I think we should all go check his office. P.I.S.T.O.L., could you provide backup in case things go south?"

The agent stood up straighter. "Of course. I'll let my commander know." He turned and went back up the stairs.

Slowly, everyone around me began to stand and stretch. We were the ones who survived.

My mother came over me and embraced me again. "I'm so glad you're not dead."

I gave an empty laugh. "Me too. I just hope you're okay."

"I'm fine. Using this much color keeps the adrenaline going and usually makes your body heal faster, if the wound isn't fatal."

I stepped back and looked her up and down for injuries. "Where did you get hit?"

"Grace, I just told you–"

"You couldn't have been out there for that long and not gotten hurt."

She sighed, and pulled down her sleeve. A stray bullet had gone through her malnourished arm.

I gasped and gently moved it into the light so I could get a better look at it. She had placed a band of dark purple color around her lower arm, but she seemed to be faking that she wasn't in pain. I could see it in her eyes.

"I wonder if my color will heal it faster. Yours did wonders for me." I rotated her arm. The bullet had really gone clean through.

"It's worth a shot. But only if I get to look at your shoulder."

"Yeah, yeah." I was too focused on her wounds. Carefully, so, so carefully, I peeled her color off of her bullet wound. She had commanded her color to grow soft so that I could remove it. Her pale skin was bright red and bloodied.

"Oh, mom.."

"I know." She drew a sharp breath of pain.

I summoned more of my Carribean teal, shifting and forming it into a band. I gently placed it around her lower arm, around the wound.

Instantly, her face relaxed. My color had relieved her pain. "Oh, this is nice. I guess because we're family?"

I nodded. "That's the best explanation."

To my suprise, she smiled at me. Her hair so similar to mine fell around her face. "You've done so well."

I could only manage a half-smile. "Thank you, mother."

After that, she checked my shoulder wound and deemed it fine. Though she replaced her old color with new color, once again shaping it into a band.

The same P.I.S.T.O.L. agent came down the stairs once again. His strange iridescent armor clanked when he moved. "Are you all ready?"

The agent locked eyes with me, and I spoke up. "Yes. I think only the unwounded agents should come with my mother and I, as well as P.I.S.T.O.L."

One of the last four Colored stood up. It was a female fire-red twenty-year-old. "I think the Colored should go as well. We're best supported when we have each other."

My mother chimed in. "Just stay safe. I don't want to lose any more of the original Colored. You mean as much to me as family."

She looked at me with love, and I managed a full, genuine smile.

I spoke to everyone. "Perfect. The Colored and P.I.S.T.O.L. will face the president. Is everyone alright with that?"

A series of mute nods.

"Okay. Let's go."

One of the P.I.S.T.O.L. women spoke up. "The elevator's down!"

A series of sighs.

P.I.S.T.O.L. and our little band of six took the stairs to the very top. The sound of fifty suits of their otherworldly armor clanging was enough to make me feel like my ears were bleeding, if they weren't already from hours of gunshots.

Along the way, I asked one of the oddly-armored men as we climbed, "Are there more of you than just this fleet?"

"Yes, of course," he replied between inhales. "We have an army of thousands back home. We live in another part of Riedhak called Fendstrael."

"Fascinating." My breaths were becoming shorter, just from the stairs. But that didn't wear on my morale.

When we finally reached the top, we were wary of what we would find. Slowly, I approached the doors to the president's office. The P.I.S.T.O.L. agents and my mother were right by my side.

I cracked the door, then threw it open. He was here.

I charged my hands with color, my eyes still very much alight. All my Colored allies did the same.

"Well, well, well." The president turned around. "We have much to discuss."

He was met with enraged faces. Then a bombardment of weaponized color.

But we'd completely forgotten about that cursed suit.

Immediately, all of the Colored dropped to their knees. He only laughed, not unlike a hyena. His eyes were wild with power, and his greasy hair was flopping over his face as he moved violently.

He screamed like a madman. "You can't defeat me!"

We looked up from the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dixter, bleeding on the other side of the room. The part of me that cared about him had overcome everything else, but I had to remain focused.

When the P.I.S.T.O.L. agents stepped up to help, my mother stopped them. She placed a hand on the one closest to us.

"No. This is our fight." She kicked the doors closed, and they automatically locked behind her.

But the Colored felt the same way.

The fire-red female leaped forward. He continued to laugh like a maniac. She had an expression of pure rage. "YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM US!"

The other five of us looked as angry as her. We shouted along with her, calling more and more color. Our hands were dripping with it.

We were all out of our normal, non-color weapons. They'd all been used up in combat with the M.A.S.K. agents on the lower floors.

It was just our color versus the one who took it from us.

My mother formed armor for herself, covering her entire body with color, leaving it liquid at the joints so she could move. Others just put up force fields, the fiery girl just made a huge ax. Then she threw up a wall of red to protect herself. The two men next to me also formed some kind of protection.

Then we started moving forward. Towards our enemy.

He laughed again, spreading his arms wide. "Come at me, Colored! Do your worst!"

So we did.

My mother formed a deep purple set of bows and arrows, and began firing above his head. Distraction. The fiery girl swung her ax directly in front of his face, hitting his chest by accident. The entire red ax got sucked into the monster's suit, and he just watched with pleasure as she crumpled down in pain. One of the two men next to me formed long, wood brown whips, and began cracking them on the floor. Distraction. The other formed armor as well, and began creating citrus orange throwing stars. He threw them just around the president's body. Distraction. The cactus green woman created knives and threw them right past his body. Distraction.

It was all a ploy to get closer to him.

Once he realized that his head was exposed, he ran up to behind his desk and pulled out a huge gun, with a lot of attack power. It was silver, and had rows and rows of casing. He began open fire on us.

Those that didn't have shields up instantly did, and created force fields around those that hadn't seen the new threat yet. Still, we pushed on. We had to get next to him.

We continued throwing weapons, now all directed towards his face. Some buckled in pain for a few moments before straightening, but the pain was quickly losing importance. The only thing we cared about now was killing, no matter how much it hurt.

Then, someone had the brilliant idea to just encase him in color. It was my mother. She had made it see-through so that we could watch his agony while he was stuck in place. And it worked, for about a fraction of a second.

But that small victory evaporated quickly. The entire block of color that my mother had just used quickly got sucked into his suit, and she completely collapsed. Every piece of color that she produced melted to the floor.

I looked back and quickly came to her side. I conjured more of my color and poured it over her chest, hoping that it would heal her while I was gone. I couldn't have her dying while we killed him.

Her idea sparked others into thinking outside the box. His right hand and the gun were now encased in a wood brown brick of color. The fiery twenty-year-old was forming one for his left hand, trying to move quickly enough that the suit wouldn't touch the one on his right hand and absorb his color.

While those two were struggling with his hands, the citrus orange Colored was chucking throwing stars at his head, trying to avoid his suit altogether.

While he was being attacked from three sides, the cactus green woman from earlier was creating a shield around everyone, trying to allow our weapons to go through and keep his bullets out.

Unfortunately, in the chaos, one of his hands got loose. Because I was the one closest to him, trying to grab the gun out of his right hand, he grabbed my neck, and everyone froze.

In his height, he was able to lift me a couple feet off the ground. Everyone stared, horrified by what he'd do to me.

It was getting hard to breathe. I struggled to remain conscious, and the world was getting darker. I grabbed at his hands, desperate for him to let go.

He had the audacity to speak. "See? You are nothing. You couldn't defeat me, and your kind never will! I am the one who–"

His voice was cut off by the sound of fabric tearing. Straight down the middle, his suit jacket tore in two from behind.

He whipped around to see who it was.

Dix.

With his protection gone, the Colored all threw their respective weapons, all hitting him in the heart with perfect aim. A fiery ax, a citrus orange throwing star, a cactus green knife. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell dead to the floor.

In that moment, everything changed. The man who had tortured us for so long, the monster that had taken away my people's color, the one that killed innocent citizens. The one that destroyed lives, tore apart families, attacked B.L.A.D.E. in every way imaginable. The one that took my father and imprisoned my mother.

He was dead.

Dixter staggered but managed to remain upright. My mother was beginning to stir.

I went to her side, and prayed that my color was enough. She looked like she was going to make it.

I held her closer to my chest with relief. She was alive.

"Oh, Grace, you've done it." She looked at me with pride in her eyes. There was no mistaking it now.

"We all did it." I smiled down at her.

The cactus green woman let P.I.S.T.O.L.. back in, and they ran in without warning. Then they realized that the president was dead.

"Oh, good. You've completed your mission." The leader and his fleet looked around at everything. The color weapons stuck to the wall, the shattered window, me at my mother's side.

"I'm glad you're all alive," he said, almost in a proud way.

At that moment, Chief emerged from the staircase, a little out of breath. She pulled the hair out of her face and stood at her full height, now composed. "Good evening, agents. I apologize for not being here sooner."

She eyed the foreign agents in unusual armor. "And who's this?"

The leader stood proudly. "Leader of the People of Initiative Saving The Ordinary and their Leaders, or P.I.S.T.O.L. We were assigned to help B.L.A.D.E., so we arrived and wiped out the remaining agents in white."

She looked around the room. "Thank you all for your work. But, how did you know to find us? And why would you help us?"

"We have an agent planted here. She goes by the name of Alka. She reported to us that this agency had shown her kindness, and that they were going to war and didn't have nearly enough soldiers to fight their war and win. So, she called us."

I stood and looked between the chief of B.L.A.D.E. and the leader of this P.I.S.T.O.L. fleet. "I was her friend, I pulled her out of an alleyway. That must have been what she meant."

My eyes darted from left to right as I thought. "But why didn't she tell me where she came from?"

The P.I.S.T.O.L. fleet leader spoke first. "Reidhak is made of secret organizations, young one. Showing little Alka that B.L.A.D.E. was worthy of our help was the reason we were sent to assist you in the first place."

"I had no idea." I shook my head.

Chief looked at the foreign organization with gratitude. "Thank you all for your help. I doubt we could have done it without you."

"Oh, it was no problem. Back in Fendstrael, we have thousands of troops."

"I see. I'm glad you were able to aid us in winning. Well, I wish you all a safe trip back."

He nodded. "Thank you. We were happy to help. If you ever need another fleet, just let that little Alka know."

"Of course." Chief smiled at them as they descended down the stairs. Once they were gone and the door was closed, she let out a breath.

She looked over her enemy's office, at all of the Colored. She ran to us and embraced me. "I see you've found your color."

I was so proud that I did. "Yes. I have."

She stepped back and gazed at our audience. "And who are these people?"

My mother spoke up, now standing. My color was working wonders on her weakened body. "These people are what's left of one of the last remaining Colored peoples. The last purebreds in all of Kistra."

"Woah." She walked up and met the wood brown Colored. "Hello."

He smiled and produced some color from his hands. He let it drip and shape and mold, until it became the shape of a flower. Petals, leaves, and all. He handed the delicate, glass-looking flower to her. "Hello."

She took the flower and smiled at the rest of them. "It's an honor to meet you all."

Then, she looked beyond their shoulders and saw the president's body. "If you'll excuse me," she said, gently moving past them. She approached him and sat at his side, gazing upon his face.

"I once loved him. But he was a cruel, dark-hearted man who deserved no mercy." She sighed, twirling the wood brown flower in her hand. Everyone was watching her. "But I wish he had never given up kindness. I wish he'd never bleached himself."

It was disobeying your color. Drowning it in white, an inescapable death. He had committed the worst of crimes, against himself and against his color.

None of us understood what she was feeling. She sat with him a minute longer, then stood and began walking towards the stairwell.

She turned before she left. "Colored, I'd like to welcome you into B.L.A.D.E. I will provide your rooms and everything that you might need. We have a twenty-four hour kitchen and a fully-functional gym within walking distance. I only ask that you teach those that are Colored how to use their power."

Chief looked between them. "What do you say?"

The fiery red Colored began to get excited. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

The four all locked eyes and nodded. The cactus green woman seemed excited as well. "We'd love to."

I grinned at the thought of everyone being in our agency. And we had no reason to be a secret organization anymore. I could tell that the future was going to be bright.

"Well, I better lead you all back to the agency." Chief noticed my mother standing next to me. "And who is this?"

"This is my long-lost mother. She was chained and was restricted from using her color just like the rest of these people," I stated, still upset from what they had endured. But thanks to Dix, no one would ever have to go through that pain again.

Dix.

"Uh, Chief, you can go ahead and take these people home. You can get to know my mother. She'll tell you what level the rest of our agents are on!" I said, running over to Dixter.

"Oh! Yes, of course. This way," she said, leading them down the stairwell. She poked her head out from the doors, wanting to watch the moment. I shooed her away before turning my attention to Dix.

He was bloodied and barely moving. "Oh no." I kneeled by his side and brushed the hair away from his face. "No no no no no no no no."

I pressed my fingers to his bruised neck to check for a pulse. He was barely breathing.

I felt a heartbeat.

"Oh, Dixter." I pulled him to my chest, just glad that he was alive.

He whispered into my ear, "Grace.."

I pulled away and looked into those eyes. "I'm here."

"I'm.. sorry."

A tear slipped down my face. "Don't be sorry. He's been manipulating you. He was beating you."

"I needed to see you one last time."

"No, Dix, you're going to be fine. You're alive and you're going to stay alive."

"H.. How do you know?"

"I have my color now," I said, quickly gathering color in the palms of my hands. My eyes began to glow my Carribean teal, my tears were alight.

"You look beautiful like that."

I put a finger to his lips. "Don't say stupid things until I heal you."

I continued to gather my color, then began bandaging his chest and forehead. I ripped off his tattered old shirt so I could get to the wound faster. The color was calm and cool in my hands, just like the relief I was feeling.

"This feels nice," he said, barely conscious. I wonder if kissing him will wake him up. I pushed the thought out of my head, playfully annoyed that it was even a question.

With every round of bandaging, I felt my old, angry mindscape dissolve into nothing. The ice wedging that had been tearing me apart was completely melted. The red scars of screaming that had echoed in my mind for so long were nonexistent. The two bickering sides of me had finally made up their minds: To save him.

I was overcome with relief, with thankfulness that he was okay. It seemed like all his mistakes just melted away.

I finished his chest and his head, focusing on his face. "Now, where else hurts?"

He was slowly coming back into consciousness. "Can you just.. lay me on the ground?"

I slowly, gently set him back down on the floor of M.A.S.K. HQ's head office. The broken window was sending some cool night air into the room. The rain had finally stopped.

"Can you sit here with me?" I knew from the gleam in his eye that he was fully here.

I turned and sat next to him.

"Now, can you kiss me?"

I rolled my eyes, and touched my lips to his. The world became the most vibrant of colors for just one moment. M.A.S.K. was defeated, and everybody was safe again.

We were safe again.

I pulled back, and just laid next to him as my color did its job. The bright Carribean teal almost appeared to be glowing. "You know why I knew that my color would heal you?"

He took my hand in his. "Why?"

"Because we're soulmates."

He turned his head to look at me. "Is that why."

"Yes. Remember when we thought that your paint healing my leg was amazing?"

"That seems like forever ago."

"I think because this is actual color, it's going to do a lot more than just numb the pain."

"I hope so."

We just laid there for several moments. The night air gently blew our faces. It moved his hair to the side. The pieces of hair that fell out of my ponytail lifted slightly.

"How do you feel?" I turned my head to face him and rubbed my thumb against his hand.

"Safe."