The room was dark. Who knew what lurked in the corners... If there even were any corners...
Shallomar smirked, perching on a metal bench across the room. Her eyes glowed bright red, a creepy contrast to the blackness around her.
The age of Shallomar was strange... She seemed to be under ten, but at the same time she looked to be at least fifteen. This puzzling attribute might be useful to her in combat.
"Your insignia seems to know what it's doing. But do you?" She taunted him, standing up on the bench.
Trace smirked. He took her sarcasm as a challenge. "We'll have to see, now won't we?"
Shallomar smirked back at him, crouching for a launch.
"Code 76B11," she hissed. The floor illuminated a bright blue color, but it was made of glass. There was a large gap separating the two assassins, much too large for either of them to jump across. "LPJK8Star." Her eyes shined over with a new shade of red. A bright, sparkling, blood-thirsty red.
And, as Trace continued in his speechless state, Shallomar prepared her insignia for orders. The butterflies cascading down her arms were ready to take flight. They glowed red, just like her eyes.
Large, glowing red wings sprung from her back. Not only were they sharp, but they also looked awfully crooked and morbid. Like the feeling you get when a murderer has a knife in his hands and a lopsided smile smears over his face as he slowly steps towards you, mumbling things about how much he'll enjoy hearing your screams...
She leaped forward, swooping across the big gap. A wing darted forward in less than a second and stopped a millimeter short of Trace's jugular, causing him to let out a gasp. It took him a second to react. And when he did, he leaned back, blinking rapidly and gasping for air, as if she had actually scraped him.
"Trace, your first 'lesson' is to understand that your enemy could use anything as a weapon. Anything. Lucky for you, I'm not interested in slaughtering victims," she smiled as the wings went back into her body, a strange whimsical noise. Like wind rushing over a wheat-filled meadow. "So, I work on defense instead. Try anything." A satisfied expression settled on her features and she opened up her arms, tempting him.
Trace gulped and resorted to buying into her plan. He stared at his mesmerizing purple sword and focused on where he could possibly hit her...
The right arm. Her right arm is vulnerable. A voice in his head ticked with advice. His Modifier?
Trace studied her right arm and discovered that it was indeed vulnerable. Uncovered shoulders were quite becoming, but it would be her undoing.
Slightly hesitating, Trace lunged forward and quick-stepped to the right, flipped around her, and wrapped his arm around her neck. Then, in one fluid movement, he flipped her around and pinned her to the ground, a hand and knee on each side of her to prevent her from escaping.
Her breath heaved on his face as she stared at him. They were only inches apart.
Trace gathered some rather disturbing thoughts but quickly wished them away. The only trace left of them was the slight pink color tickling his cheeks.
"Trace," Shallomar whispered, lifting her head slightly closer to Trace's. Her eyes glimmered red and sparkled brilliantly. "Think of me as a male, not a female. It's for the best." Her red lips were full and her eyebrows creased in stern-ness.
Something clicked in his brain. A sudden motivation. A drive. And he let his body take control over his mind...
Trace smirked at her and lifted her hood from over her face. Then, he leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly against hers, shutting his eyes peacefully. Wow! What a motivation!
Before she could do anything else, Trace sat up and rolled off of her. "You're a girl, Shallomar. Don't let others think differently."
Shell-shocked, she blinked, mouth gaping open. Her lips moved awkwardly, struggling for words.
"Idiot," she finally whimpered, shooting straight up. Trace laughed as she started pacing back and forth, wondering what to do. Her frightened face was priceless.
Then, out of nowhere, she flung a ninja star at him. As if in slow motion, it sliced through his shoulder, shreading the fabric, and shattered the bone, releasing a blood-curdling scream from Trace's throat.
"What the he-" Trace was cut off by another star. It stuck in next to the other one, but cut in further. He let out a cry but stopped it with a very unmanly wince.
"Shut up!" She screeched, threatening another star. Trace bared himself. She lowered the sharp weapon and started whispering nonsense to herself. "I'm just a tool in Phantom. Not a human. No emotions. No life. No plans. Nothing. Stop crying. Stop it. Now." She tucked the star away and dropped to her knees next to him. "No life. No plans. Nothing."
Trace felt the warm blood trickling down his back, sending shivers all over his body. The cuts stung, but he tried his best to hide the audible pain. "Shallomar..."
"Trace," she hissed, snapping her head to look at him. "In order to be in Phantom and survive, please leave all of your emotions other than negative ones in the past, okay? It's for the best."
Trace was confused. "We can't all laugh together? We can't have fun as a team?"
She shook her head. "Actually, they encourage teamwork. There's just no love. No romance. The only exception is Hailey and Dereck."
"Oh," Trace whispered. He wasn't going to ask why they were the only exception, in fear it was for some bizarre reason he wouldn't understand. "I'm sorry I harassed you, Shallomar."
She chuckled, but it didn't seem carefree. It was more stiff and forced. "It's alright... Do it again, though, and I'll split your skull in half."
He didn't doubt her.
"Now," she cleared her throat. "On with the fun stuff."
Trace lifted the stars from his shoulder and tossed them to his side. They had five curved points and were black and silver. A very slick design.
His insignia lit up and the color in his eyes turn to light blue. The insignia copied and the deep wounds in his shoulder layered over, healing rapidly. Trace's eyes grew wide in amazement and horror. Could the other assassins self-heal? And if not, how could he?
Trace looked up, relieved that Shallomar didn't see.
And in the blink of an eye she slashed a curved sword at him. He flicked his up and just barely parried the blades. She grinned wide and licked her lips. Then she widened her eyes.
"You taste peculiar, Trace," she remarked in amazement, her lower lip trembling. "Like, warm and tingly."
Trace chuckled. "Was it enjoyable?" How many more stupid questions can I bust out?
She creased her eyebrows and swung her sword down, but he parried again.
"I don't know, exactly." She swung again, three quick lashes in one. Trace dodged and parried.
"How about we establish a bargain chip?" Trace offered, counter-attacking. Shallomar hopped back a few steps and cocked her head to the side. Trace explained. "Say, if I win, I get something that favors me. And vice versa."
"Oh, okay." Her voice was dry. "If I win, don't ever kiss me again. Or anything like that." She had her mind already made up and nodded, swallowing something in her throat.
Trace laughed. "Okay, then if I win, you have to let your emotions flow. Don't hold back." He raised an eyebrow, testing her.
She started to argue, but held her tongue.
"Alright. Deal," she smirked, lunging forward. They clashed swords. Trace slid down the sword and swung at her, stopping short of her thigh. She gasped and stared at Trace, horrified that the match was already over. That he beat her just like that.
She dropped her sword and held her hands up. "Trace, training's over," she said stiffly. Trace laughed and playfully pecked her on the cheek. She reddened and tears started to stream down her cheeks.
"That's right. Now it's time for your training." He smirked and his sword disappeared. The room went pitch black. "Start by laughing. Then by forming feelings for someone. Then find likes and dislikes that suit you."
She snickered through the tears. "Funny. I'm taking lessons on emotions from a guy that was completely loyal to Phantom not a week ago." She rolled her eyes, trying to hide away a smile.
That was definitely strange. Now, he detested Phantom from the depths of his heart. And he had the burning urge to find out exactly what the organization was up to.
He would find out. And show no mercy in the process.
That is, of course, once he got Shallomar to become an emotional girl again. The way girls should be. At least, Trace felt something in his heart telling him that.
A separate entity that was yearning to burst out... A different person, almost.
Trace's eyes widened in realization.