Phantom Assassin (2015 version)

Chapter 14

There was a boy in the house. Almost 13, he was the man of the house with his dad gone and his two siblings to protect.

Trace didn't think at all about the possibility of there being a witness to his Phantom mission. He was told to eliminate all of Maria's ties, but really, all he did was give her hope that she would be able to escape.

An impossible mistake.

Would Phantom take Trace's life? Would they have no use for him anymore?

-REPORT TO PHANTOM HEADQUARTERS IMMEDIATELY TO RECEIVE ORDERS-

His Refiner seemed to shriek at him, and his ears stung in pain at the vivacity. Regardless of the fact, he obeyed the orders and teleported back to headquarters.

First Chair's face grimaced in anger. Her cheeks burned red and her eyes glinted black. Several ambassadors in the room backed away in fear. Their eyes widened and they pressed their palms against the walls in caution.

Had Trace done something wrong to make First Chair so angry?

"Trace," she hissed through clenched teeth. Her silverish-blonde hair stood on end and her skin wrinkled under her brow.

Trace thumped his fist over his heart and offered a grunt in reply. Perfect obedience.

"What happened to your hair?" Her voice evened out only a little before she stepped forward to grab a fist of his shimmering locks. Any normal person would wince at the tugging of hair follicles, but Trace never flinched.

Phantom has a reason. Phantom always has a reason behind everything they do.

How was Trace going to answer her question? He didn't have an answer. In fact, his brain scrambled for something to say and his Refiner was calculating something logical to say as well.

"Never mind that," she growled, tugging his face down to her. Somehow, he'd grown taller. "Trace, you must retrieve the boy you neglected to kill. He knows you are an assassin of Phantom and therefore must be eliminated."

Trace almost argued but bit his tongue back. His Refiner gave her the answer he was supposed to give.

"Yes, First Chair. I will do that right away."

He transported himself back to the house where he had killed Maria's family and scoped the scene.

First, he checked the living room. The little boy's fresh blood wafted through the air, and his body was still under the protection of the thin blanket on the couch.

Scared whimpers sounded from the top of the stairs.

Poor boy. Had he known to run and hide while he could, he just might've gotten away.

The insignia on Trace's arm heated up. It itched for recognition and approval. It wanted to be useful to Trace and his Tool.

Trace lifted a pair of ninja stars from inside of his cloak. His hair dangled in front of him, seeming to want to get in the way of his work.

Annoyed, Trace rolled the silver strands into a knot and shoved it into the back of his hood. He then cocked his head to the side and slithered his way up the staircase. The boy hadn't realized his existence yet.

Bruised knees and blood-stained hair shivered on the top step. Balled fists caressed his weeping eyes.

A pang of guilt swept through Trace and he faltered a step backwards.

The boy's face whipped up and his eyes widened in pure horror. More tears swelled in his puffy eyes and he didn't move. Had he accepted his fate?

Trace stepped forward and raised a carefully-sharpened star into the air.

"Is Maria safe?" The boy choked out, shaking more violently than before. His words were hardly audible through the intense sobbing. His throat shook and his eyes released more and more tears.

Trace nodded. "Phantom will protect her."

A hint of a smile twitched on the boy's lips. And as he looked up at Trace, he lifted up his chest and breathed a big sigh of relief. He had stopped shaking and his tears had stopped.

"Thank-you," the boy whispered. Then, he started laughing. "Thank-you, Lord! Thank-you for keeping my sister safe!" He called out in praise to God, raising his hands high. New tears reigned his cheeks-- tears of joy and love for his family. His soon demise.

Trace was confused. His heart started beating fast, like something was sparking inside of him. He felt a warm tear wet his cheek and then a whole swarm of them washed out. What was this feeling?

Was it pity? No, it couldn't have been pity. It must have been...

Understanding. Yes, that was it.

But what exactly could Trace understand about this boy that he couldn't understand about himself? Something had clicked, but Trace didn't know exactly what.

The boy stretched his arms to Trace. As an embrace?

Trace realized what he was doing was wrong. His hand dropped the sharp object to the ground and it toppled down the stairs.

The boy smiled, letting out a few sobs, and pulled Trace in for a hug.

For a moment, he felt like he was back with Kira again. It was just them. They would be together forever. He would never miss her sweet, simple smiles. She would always be there for him, and he for her.

His Refiner ticked in his head. It was First Chair's voice this time. "Trace. Forget about any delusional side-effects. They prove results of errors in your Refiner. Obey this order: kill the boy and get back to Phantom."

Trace's eyes had been momentarily opened, but something filled his veins with hatred. It wasn't something he could control, like an emotion. It was... A poison?

Trace's vision went black and his body moved on its own.

The job was done. Trace had mutilated the boy's body beyond recognition. A grin that wasn't his formed over his lips and a sad song played in his head, soothing him.

First Chair nodded approvingly at Trace and whisked everyone out of the room so that she could work on "fixing" his Refiner. Trace didn't speak. He only listened to his mother playing the bittersweet tune in his head that he'd hear every night as a child. A lullaby that would soon conquer his subconscious.

He was Mylo. Trapped inside of a body not his own. He didn't know why he was at Phantom or what they wanted to do with him.

But his memories flooded back into him and his sadness for his sister's death paralyzed him. He wanted to thank the boy he'd only just killed, but he also wanted to strangle him.

Was it better that he was a mindless killing machine, or was it better to grit his teeth in terror of never being able to control his body again?

Trace didn't know. Mylo didn't know.

~~~~~

First Chair sent Trace back to WP7. He didn't say a word to any of the members nor did he give them any sign of recognition.

Mylo screamed inside of his head. He clawed for a way out.

Help me! I'm trapped! I can't reach my own body! Somebody, please, kill me! Save me from this wretched fate!!!! My name is Mylo!

I want my sister! I want my mother! I want... To get back home! I don't want this life!

Shallomar smiled sadly at the blank-faced assassin as he climbed the rungs to his bed.

Mylo tried harder to break free. He'd get control of his body again for sure. Nothing would stand in his way.

"Let. Me. OUT!"

His scream rang throughout the room and Trace's body shook, surprised at his own outburst. Tears rolled down his cheeks again and he patted himself on the leg, the arm, the cheek...

Shallomar rushed to meet him, worry in the fold of her forehead. "Trace, you'll be okay."

His vision went blurry. His outburst was short-lived. How could he get full control of his body? And when?

"My name," he managed to breathe before losing consciousness, "is Mylo."