Phantom Assassin (2015 version)

Chapter 07

In Phantom, each assassin retains a special power called a Tool. This power shows itself in a weapon of the assassin and can apply a number of techniques to the assassin's overall fighting capability, Trace's Modifier clicked with information.

"Yeah, whatever," Trace rolled his eyes and shoved a piece of cold, stale bacon into his waiting mouth. It wasn't crispy anymore.

Hailey sat across from him, and the other members sat, eating their food silently, on the sides.

"Your Modifier alerting you of something random again?" She mocked, cutting her soggy pancake into mush before swallowing it.

"Yeah," Trace mumbled, chomping down the flavorless food. Everything tasted bland, even when it was still hot from the griddle. "Something about 'Tools' or whatever."

Hailey choked on her mush and grabbed a napkin in her reach to wipe her mouth. She blinked rapidly and gagged on the food, her eyebrows creasing in.

Dereck gave Trace an accusing stare. "Trace, you aren't supposed to speak of trivial matters in public places."

"Why not?" Trace chuckled, amused, as he stabbed a crunchy, dry chunk of scrambled eggs.

Phantom had inconveniently bumped the mission up right as breakfast was being prepared. Coincidentally, they missed serving time. Missions lasted longer than they seemed to the assassins, so they had been gone for an entire hour before they could come back to eat. What seemed like five minutes turned into twenty minutes, and what lasted a whole hour sometimes turned out to be a day.

"It's something private you can only discuss with yourself and your comrades," Hailey sighed, clearing her throat. Her face was red, but she seemed okay.

"With myself?" Trace asked, confused at Hailey's explanation. How comical, that she would consider him a psycho that talks to himself!

Hailey nodded. "It's strange, but as you complete more missions, your Modifier warms up to you, and instead of that annoying robot version of you, you start hearing yourself. You can relate to your own voice and have discussions with yourself."

"What if the discussions held private information?" Trace felt on edge. He set his fork down and settled with chewing a piece of fatty bacon, staring at Hailey intently.

"Just be careful not to ever attend mission reports. The Ambassadors can sift through your Modifier, take out things they don't want an put in things they do want, along with altering your memories in the process. Some of us don't remember anything, an others know it like it was a recurring nightmare."

Trace sat there, sucking on the bacon. Don't attend mission reports? Done. Easy as pie, right?

Wrong.

"We can explain Tools and such later, okay Trace?" Hailey lowered her voice.

"Why not now?" Trace asked, but his Modifier blocked out his own words.

Mission report #2 start, his head filled with the worst ache he had ever felt.

He was lifted from the ground, his legs immovable and his body stationary. Panicking, he tried his hardest to struggle. Sweat appeared from nowhere, as if he was actually moving.

Hailey smiled up at him and right before he was swallowed in blackness, she said a soft: "Good luck, Trace."

He was blind for a few seconds, floating in the pitch-black vacuum that was his teleportation device.

Before he knew it, the leather chair hooked into his cloak and his body was completely numb. Short breaths puffed from his lips as he squinted his eyes, looking for anyone to approach him.