Grace Feckterhight

Prologue

Twelve years ago

She opened the doors to the room. Another place in the agency M.A.S.K.'s headquarters. She scoffed at the name. Malicious Army of Skilled Killers. If they were so skilled, how could she have gotten in? And she was their sworn enemy, no less.

She noticed someone at the other end of the room. She braced with her knees bent, ready to attack. But it wasn't exactly the type of attack you'd expect.

Instead of a gun or knife, she held her color: Deep purple. She summoned it from her heart, where her kind held their color. It pulsed through her veins, turning them from under-the-skin blue to purple. The deep color flowed from her heart to her hands, where she could use it. Her eyes changed from stormy gray to a glowing purple. If she was pretty before, now she was beautifully dangerous.

Deep purple spilled out of her hands, as if it were anxious to be used. It jerked around, waiting to be thrown.

She squared off her opponent. He was another M.A.S.K. agent in white, and he held a color-collecting shield and a gun. The white shield protected any of her enemies from thrown color. Any form, liquid, powder, solid, it could take it. It was known to hurt the Colored person, like a pang in the heart. She had heard that it felt like a piece of your soul was being ripped away.

"Come at me, Colored! I'm not afraid of your little purple show!" The M.A.S.K. member yelled. He claimed to have no fear, but his quivering knees told otherwise. Perhaps he'd heard the tales of what the Colored could do.

While he blabbered, she willed her color to change shape. She felt the sharpness of the object in her hands. She smiled with a hint of malice. Her enemy would soon meet his end.

She threw her color shards, hitting him in the chest. He didn't move his shield fast enough. Some shards stuck to his shield, which promptly sucked the dark purple rhombuses up. She felt an invisible stab to her chest as she watched her color disappear into the shield. But it was no time to feel pain now.

She looked up to see where her other shards had landed. Apparently, some had hit him in the neck and chest. His white uniform was cut from the shards, some further in than others. One protruded from his neck. He crumpled to the ground; his gun and shield skidded away from him.

She pondered as she moved down the passageway. She thought of her past, how her relatives had told her stories. The planet, Riedhak, had once been a beautiful land of color, where her kind had roamed free. The humanoids had color in such abundance that it spilled out of their bodies. Soon, they harnessed it. They learned of its forms, its shapes. They knew of the color's secrets, how far they could take it. Secrets even she didn't know.

Her ancestors lived in color, by color, because of color. They kept the land healthy by using their gift. The plants radiated with its power. The water sparkled with its energy. Even the soil pulsed with its life. The stories her family had told her described what the land used to be so wonderfully that she began to miss a place she'd never been.

She shook her head in amazement as she moved down the hallway. Her people had been around for hundreds of years, living in this land. But the wildness had faded. She cursed those that took over, turning the beautiful plains and mountains into a city. She could almost see them knocking down trees, pouring cement, tearing up the ground.

The worst part was that she had a feeling the city would only grow. Kistra, they called it. Her kind would likely never see what her ancestors had once lived in. She could see the next generation not even knowing that this land used to hold color. She couldn't shake the feeling of hopelessness.

She paused and realized who was at the other end of the corridor. A tall man dressed in a white suit regarded her, as though deciding if she was a threat.

She called on her power, her eyes sparking into color. She most definitely was a threat.

"Ah. I see that you made it this far." He said, sweeping his arms in an expansive gesture. "And what do you have to gain?"

"I want your head."

"Oh, you're a feisty one! Get her." His agents rushed out of the door behind him. They reached out to grab her arms, but she was quicker. She swept her arm outwards in a grand but deadly motion. She let her dark purple shards fly in a wide arc around her. She knocked out a row of agents.

"Is that all you got?" She snarled.

He smiled at her competence. "You are smooth, I must admit. But I have more where those came from." He snapped his fingers, and more of his agents poured out of the doorway.

She frowned, but she was ready. Or so she thought.

She knocked out agent after agent, throwing color shards constantly. Some had shields. When her shards got sucked in by accident, she saw just how desperate she was getting. There were just so many.

Eventually, they wore her down. Her shards became smaller and duller; Her eyes were dimming. The shields were doing the most damage. They struck her heart like snake bites to the soul. She could see her soon failure in her mind.

Some started shooting their guns. A couple bullets whizzed past her head. She quickly threw up a shield of her own, one of semi-transparent color. It was long and rectangular, and it covered her body. Dark purple and thick. Whenever a bullet hit the shield, it bounced off harmlessly. The color rippled with every bullet. The shield was difficult to uphold, and it drained her even more.

Finally, her shield fell. A bullet got her in the shoulder. Others hit her body with no mercy. The man in the white suit smiled at his success.

At last, she fell to her knees. She was burnt out.

"Chain her," he commanded. "And watch her hands."

She was frustrated and weak, but she still had some fight in her. She lifted her head, her hair falling around her face. She summoned her power in secret with her hands behind her back, out of view. She drew her color from her rapidly beating heart. It came to her slowly, because she was drained and wounded. "You are a vile man," She looked him in the eye. "I still want to kill you."

"Too bad you won't get the chance." He replied, a knowing look in his eyes. His agents were getting closer to her, about to grab her. He thought he'd won.

But she knew better. She could feel her color gathering in her hands behind her back. In one last desperate action, she thrust out all of the color, soul, and spirit she had left. Her eyes sparked purple, her body shook, and color bursted. A dark purple blast erupted from her, shaking the hallway. It blinded everyone except for her momentarily. The man in the white suit almost fell over, shaking his head and trying to regain his sight.

She looked around, desperate for escape. But she was so exhausted that she could barely stand. Her fighting spirit had been taken, her color drained, but her soul held fast. She wasn't dead yet. But she was about to drop.

She'd tried so hard. She wasn't giving up now.

Slowly, she staggered to the doors behind the man in the white suit. But, unfortunately, he regained his sight before she made it very far.

He laughed at her weak attempts. "Impressive, impressive indeed. You would have hurt me, but this suit consumes your precious color. You feel weaker, do you not? Surely weak enough to fall." He snapped again, and even more agents spilled out of the door behind him. She was beginning to think that they were endless. She'd killed so many, and yet they still came.

Her head dipped as they finally chained her hands behind her back. She was dragged out of the room in shackles, headed to the headquarter's prison cells.

She was out of spirit, drained of color, void of soul, and now, she was hopeless.