Grace Feckterhight

Chapter Five

The next night, I woke up to a quiet peacefulness. I groggily looked over to my dresser clock, which read 7:14 p.m.

Perfect. The night is still young.

For some reason, my body always knew the time to wake me up. It was like a timer went off, and suddenly, Snap! I was awake.

Last night's rest was –finally– comfortable. I had dragged myself to bed after Dixter left, and I had actually managed to have comfortable clothes on. Out of nowhere, I remembered my assignment. My eyes shot wide open. Dix and I had another night together.

    I was excited, but also a little nervous. The memory of searing pain burned across my mind. The danger would always be there, no matter the mission.

    Which reminds me.. I pulled up my legging to reveal the bandage. It felt old on my skin, and the blood was way past dry. Probably time to change it.

    I jumped off my bed, then turned around to fix the sheets. With the pillows aligned and the sheets straight, I went to change.

    I collected my clothes and headed to the bathroom, where my bandaging was. I walked in and turned on the lights. I glared at the brightness for a second, my eyes still unadjusted. I got some supplies to replace the old bandage, then unwound the stained one.

    I took in a little gasp. The wound was already partly healed. A scar had already started forming.

    I turned the sink on and washed off the dried blood. Once it was clean, I realized exactly what had happened.

    Color Central had healed it. When I had had a feeling that the very air was taking away some of my pain, I was right.

    I wonder what's so special about that place.

    I shook my head and concentrated. Because of the beginnings of a scar, I felt fine just wrapping my leg with a few bandages. I put some real clothes on and brushed my hair, sweeping the highlights. I brushed my teeth and headed out, making sure my room was in order. I made sure I had my grappling hook latched onto my wrist, and my crossbow folded inside one of my jacket pockets. My knife was subtly strapped to my thigh.

    I crept through the living room, making sure I didn't wake Sytra. I assumed that she came back to our dorm after I had crashed into bed, and wouldn't be up at this hour. It was early for those that were nocturnal. If the normal day-strolling citizens of Kistra usually woke up at 8 a.m, then 8 p.m. was normal for us. Our times were the same, just different sides of the day.

    I went through the front door, then turned around and closed it softly. The hallway was empty.

    I made my way towards the elevator, remembering my partner in crime. I whipped my phone out of my jacket's front pocket and called Dixter.

    "Wha..?" His scratchy voice asked from the other side.

I smiled at the sound of his voice. "Rise and shine, Lover Boy. We have work to do."

"Can't the mission wait? It's only–" His voice cut off for a second. "–7:23." He paused, the time sinking in. "Which is late for you. I'm getting out of bed."

I grinned. "Thank you. You ready to blow up another warehouse?"

He laughed a little. Soft sounds of him getting ready peppered the background noise. "Feckter, we don't know what building it'll be in, all we know is that they're making white shortblades." He paused. "You have the address, right?"

I looked at my texts, pressing the elevator's button for up. "Yes. Chief texted it to me this morning."

"Good," He yawned. "Welp. I'll meet you on my floor in a bit."