"For those who wish to discover and face that which others wish to remain hidden, they will indeed discover something of value in this dark chapter of posterity...
A grisly lesson on the importance of equality."
-Megatron

2350 hours and counting

The night was young with a full moon stagnant overhead. Everyone was deep in slumber as I slipped out of Hangar 5 and onto the asphalt. South border of Diego Garcia. 0000. My watch blinked, the time was mere minutes away and the ground lines pointed me south. Without a second glance back, I jumped into a jog and ran down the runway. You challenged me. I accept. No matter who won this race tonight, I was determined to walk away from Agent Mirage as his equal: Not a spoiled child. Not a hybrid born between nations. I would be his equal, and I would keep going until I dropped dead if that's what it took to gain his respect.

1200 hours previous

"Ciao, mio caro." Agent Mirage.

I was both panicked and thankful at the Elite's sudden call on the communication link, which was the nearly invisible earpiece I was forced to wear throughout the days of public education classes in case of an emergency. Though let it be stated that the past three times it had been activated, it was to listen to the rant of the century about drills and faulty technology by my American teammates. A passing security guard watched me closely, and I cursed his timing. Immediately I removed the hand from my ear and forced a smile.

"Excuse me sir. I think I need to go to the nurse's office. Thank you."

Leaving no room for a response I jumped from my seat, hastened out of the cafeteria, and down the hallway. The faster I got away from the noise, the better.

"Non ignorarmi. I know you can hear me." Walking straight past the nurse's office to the nearest exit, I hissed back.

"Give me a second! I need to get away from populated areas!" I burst through the door and into the fresh air outside. He breathed a chuckle over the link.

"And here I thought you were ignoring me." The noise had faded, and I nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's difficult to ignore a prick in your side." Sitting down in the grass outside I leaned back, meeting the shadowed and course brick side of the building. Mirage chuckled again.

"Oh really? Is that all I am to you?" I huffed. "Get used to it jerk. Why did you even call? In case you haven't noticed, I'm located in a public school." He hummed over the link.

"I called because you owe me a race."

My eyebrows furrowed, the only physical reaction to that comment. Mentally, there were a few words coming to mind that were very near being spit back.

"Excuse me?"

The echoes of the cafeteria sounded off from the window above my head. As faint as they were, I could've gone for a distraction waiting for the Italian's answer. "You and the others had all the fun in your little 'marathon' yesterday. I feel left out, so I believe you now owe me a race. After all, you did challenge me," I sputtered.

"Challenge you? What in the name of God did I do to challenge you to a race?" He hummed again. If we were talking face to face, I bet he would've been sauntering a circle around me.

"As I recall, you called the only Italian Elite of our force inferior and slow. Then kicked up dust in my face. That would read 'challenge' to any civilian in existence."

I glared at the campus lawn in front of me, fingers reaching down and plucking at the strands of grass.

"Well as I recall, you weren't exactly jumping at the chance to accept a race, if hiding behind Hangar 4 and watching us from the sidelines is any indication." The only reaction I got to that was a pfft over the link with a haughty sneer.

"As if that would've been a fair race. I would've left them so far behind they wouldn't have known I was a part of it."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, whatever you say, Screamer."

An abrupt silence indicated his pause at the insult.

"What are you implying by that, kid?" A light breeze brushed against my skin, and the grass flew in it as I tore it from the ground. The surrounding scenery had become quiet, a stark contrast to the noise that was building between us. Mirage's voice, a tool that usually shaped his words into long and graceful sentences, was suddenly edged with a bluntness. It hammered each vowel to trudge off his tongue, and each consonant now followed with a sharp bite.

"I'm implying that I could compare your accented ass to Agent Scream with the way you're acting."

"Don't compare me to that deranged rogue, mio caro." He snarled, and my hand stopped. The Japanese soldier had brought on the first real rouse of emotion from Mirage out of any of our past encounters.

"I never said I was, Mirage. I only said I could. But if you keep that snobbish act up, I will." He was silent after that. But then, his tone went dark.

"And do you think you are any better than I, you spoiled, American brat?"

I bristled at that, lips curling up into a growl and my hands clenching into fists. "You're right. I'm not any better than you. I'm just a teenage black ops soldier stuck between a civilian's and an agent's morals. But at least I didn't turn my back on my own team because they wouldn't let me kill a rogue."

His tone turned from dark to an infuriated shout. "How dare you say I turned my back on my brothers and sisters!" His rage hit me like a punch, and I snarled back.

"Really? Because that's what everyone else seems to think! Have you ever tried thinking of anyone besides yourself?!" The line went quiet. Hot and heavy anger that balled up in my chest made it feel tight. This was no secret, not that I'd known of among the others. But the fact that he'd seemed to have been blind to it is what made this so maddening. I glared at the air in front of me, almost picturing a rope strung right in front of my face, pulled taut with the argument's tension. If my eyes were a knife, the rope would've snapped with a single touch. I waited for a reply, but none came, and it enraged me further. After a minute went by, I was convinced he'd hung up. But then static crackled over the link and a shaded voice slithered toward my ear.

"South border of Diego Garcia. 0000 hours. You challenged me. I accept." Something pumping in my blood flared at the meaning behind that statement.

"I'll see you there you son of a bitch." The comlink ended, and the bell signalling the end of lunch break rang. 

2357 hours and counting

The southern border was the farthest away from the main hangars on the base, walled in by an outlying sandy beach and an endless ocean. If anyone wanted to meet somewhere and keep it quiet, that would be the place to do it. I'd been there once before after a particularly bad fight with Major Lennox. He was my decided (or should I say overly-protective) guardian, because by regulation, any soldier of the team under the age of 21 needed a legal guardian. I was fifteen at the time, but I remembered, even if it was three years ago. It was quiet enough there that if you stood still and listened, you could hear a vehicle coming from about a mile away...

Should I really be doing this? The thought was enough to let my resolve falter.

If anyone found out about this... If Major Lennox or the Commander found out about this, they'd be after both our heads. Maybe I should've just gone to them about Mirage in the first place. Another, stronger voice coming from my mind seemed to snort at the idea, putting a wedge between the morals I held onto.

And be seen as a weakling for the rest of your life? You know this race isn't just about proving Mirage wrong. It's a test of what you really are. Weakling... A cold flash crawled over my spine at the name. The runway ran out, and my boots hit the dirt as I continued off the pavement.

Are you a civilian or a soldier? The question spit acid and I growled at it. This was MY fight. MY challenge. I was a soldier. A member of a classified, multinational, spy and strike team. I would rise to the challenge, no matter how it ended or who tried to stop me.

The south edge of Diego Garcia was marked by a stretched patch of dry seagrass. Beyond the seagrass lay dark, rippling water. My watch read 2359 as I approached the spot. Without a second's delay, a flash of red appeared from the east. My heart pounded in its rib cage, pushing me even faster to the edge. The Elite in his signature sleek and blood red armor charged forward at an equal velocity. Then, the time struck 0000 hours, and we slid to a stop. Standing to our full heights, I stared down the young man who fixed an icy glare on me. We stood there for a moment, taking each other in, before Mirage finally spoke.

"I've changed my mind. I don't want a race." Before I could react, his arms jutted out, and the curved blades attached to his arm pads swung out into his hands in an attack position.

"I want a fight."

... This is a joke, right? My eyes narrowed, searching for anything that might betray what he just said. But there was nothing. Mirage would have no reason to lie. He really did want a fight... There was no backing out now.

"Fine." Years of self-defense and hand-to-hand combat training surfaced, and I took an even stance with fists raised. Mirage chuckled darkly, moving his arms up and down to spin those blades feverently.

"You have guts. Let's see how long that lasts." We circled each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. I kept my eyes on the deadly sterling silver he held, trying to strategize not how to win against them, but to survive.... Dear God, Lennox, you were right to remind me to always be ready.

Then, Mirage ran forward with spinning blades. An instinctual battle protocol suddenly flashed through my mind and two long, straight katanas slid out from my sleeves and blocked the attack. Their edges began to glow a hot, fiery orange against the darkness around us, and I could smell the tendril of smoke rising where we met. The spy swiped his arms down, dragging his blades against mine. With a bit of force I pushed him away, backing up and changing my stance to point my weapons at him. He swung his own again as he began to circle me.

"So you're armed... Not bad." I mirrored his steps, walking the invisible line that kept us about an equal distance apart. We circled each other once. Then he attacked. This time, I was ready. Swinging his right blade across, I deflected the blow with my left katana and swung down. My tip caught one of his notches, jerking the arm attached to the side. Heavily swinging my right katana at his shoulder joint, he suddenly recovered and blocked the blow. Block, deflect, swing. Block, deflect, swing. I hadn't trained in knife combat for two years, nonetheless double-bladed. But I sensed a familiar pattern he was pulling me into and if I let it continue he would take advantage. Without thinking, I blocked another blow and used the other to slash him in the shoulder. The split second he stood in shock at my random move I used to bring up a foot and kick him in the knee joint, bringing him down on one knee. He looked up as I closed in and pressed both glinting silver edges to his chest, and glared.

"You're going to have to do better than that."

Knocking my katanas aside, he put his fists under him and swung his legs around to collide with my shins. In a half-back flip I was on the ground in a daze.

Focus, you idiot! A voice in my head yelled at me.

My gaze caught sight of Mirage coming down and I rolled out of the way to avoid him. Scrambling back to my feet, I charged, and our fight began again. This time he changed his strategy, striking in odd places at odd moments, causing me to take a defensive position until I could find an opening. A few times I blocked my front but left my side open; he took advantage and slashed at my sides. They stung, but I could hardly feel it. The adrenaline of the fight had turned my limbs light and strong, dancing in the rush as it kept me focused on him. We changed positions again, and I got blows in on him. Whenever I did, my katanas would heat up and spark against his armor, leaving a charred gash in its wake. In return, his blades were jagged, and so were my cuts. What felt like seconds flying by I knew were turning into minutes. But each time one of us was knocked down we got back up, and the fight would continue. Our bodies were overheating and I knew my limbs were beginning to go numb, but our fight wasn't done. This had become a matter of survival.

Suddenly, in the middle of a strike, Mirage started laughing. Wickedly.

"Mio caro... Here I thought you would be an easy kill." Before I could begin to wonder what that meant, he leapt into the air in a horizontal flip. Coming back down his foot collided with my face, knocking a hard kick into the side of my head to make me stumble back a few steps. He took the hazy seconds that followed to his advantage, striking blow after blow.

That son of a--! He only gained speed and sharp aim with his movements. Mine were getting sloppy. His war experience was the winning factor over me. After a few more slashes, came the final blow. His elbow came down on my shoulder, blade then driven in a deep slash through my own armor across my chest, and he kicked my side to put me on the ground. A guttural groan bled from deep within my throat as the nerves spread across my body screamed, but my vision cleared just enough to see him leaning over me, positioned against my neck.

"I knew it." He sneered, staring down at me like I was nothing more than the ground beneath his feet.

"You're weak." Pressing the jagged notches deeper into my skin, and I was sure drawing blood, he leaned his face down by my ear and whispered, "You're nothing but a spoiled little brat the team broke in as their hybrid. A pitiful excuse for a soldier, and a shadow of an Elite." Something snapped in me at the last insult, and the heat in my blood flared in rage. Mirage lifted his head back up and stood.

"I'm finished with you," and he began to walk away.

No. My heart was pounding. Turning my head, my katanas shone bright and sparked. My limbs were shaking, and the pain was fading into the back of my mind.

I am not broken.

I rolled over, spitting out the blood pooling over my tongue and pushing my arms underneath to rise.

I am not broken. My legs faltered once, but not twice. With a final push I was on my feet, fixated on the red opponent walking away.

I am NOT broken.

"MIRAGE!!" I shrieked. He paused, glancing over his charred shoulder at me, then turned his attention forward.

"I'm finished with you," he said calmly.

The fire that was burning under my skin begged to differ.

"I'm not finished with you, you sniveling coward." The instinctual battle rage that I knew came from my father made sure to rasp that insult with a snarl. It stopped the Elite in his tracks, and I smirked when his fists clenched.

"Agent Scream called you weak, didn't he? He called you broken, he called you pitiful, he called you nothing. And you believed him. So you hide it with pride, and hurt anyone who comes close, don't you? You hide, because you can't put away that weakness by killing your targets, and you don't want the team to know the truth, do you? Now look at you, drowning in the secrets you've built up as walls, and doomed to die alone. You've sunk as low as Screamer."

Mirage shouted in fury and wheeled around, charging at me with blades spinning. I shrieked in return and met him head on, clashing in sparks. Our strikes were frenzied, murderous, wild, and uncontrollable. Patterns didn't matter now. He'd found my weak spot, and I'd found his. Now it was a battle to defend our honor, to prove the other as well as ourselves wrong. To see who was wrong, and who was right.

*****

Our bodies were long past overheated by now. But we weren't running on energy, we were running on long caged emotions finally being released. And if I knew my opponent as well as I knew myself, that fuel wouldn't be running out for some time to come. But on the other hand, violent, rage induced fights never lasted long. I was sure of that too. Mirage struck out at my chest with both curved blades, but I blocked them with my left katana. And this time, I didn't hold back. Using the half a second I had before he would try to take his arms back, I locked my elbow around his upper arms so he couldn't pull back and rendered them useless. Then took the right katana that I still wielded freely, and ran it into his abdomen. Our eyes locked as his widened in shock and agony. Leaning over him, he fell to his knees, and I saw the realization that he was trapped flash in his glare. The ever prideful Mirage with wicked tongue, was now rendered speechless as my lips curled into a smile.

"American or Italian. Civilian or soldier. What I am doesn't matter. I was born between morals, and I'll always be between morals."

The red armored Elite was fighting a losing battle to ignore the pain I was causing him, I could see it as his dilated and contracted.

"But you Mirage... You had one faction. One nation. One family to trust. And you pushed them away." I leaned forward just a bit more, whispering into his ear. "Don't ever call me weak again."

With that, I released him and ripped the blade from his abdomen, gaining a shrill cry in response. I backed up a step and watched as he pressed a hand over his bleeding wound, head bowed and other hand keeping him upright on his knees. Without another word, I left.

*****

There was something to be learned from what had happened tonight. I didn't know whether leaving the Elite was out of the sliver of respect I still held for a teammate, or just to leave him with the words I made him face. I didn't even know if what I had said to him was true. But by the way he had reacted, at least some parts were. This couldn't be called a defeat, but I dared not call it a victory. The wounds he had left on my skin, crackled with drying blood, would scar. And the words he sneered would stay branded to the back of my eyelids. He was right, I am a brat, and I've got a lot more weakness than I like to believe. Although, he wasn't innocent, and we're all a bit arrogant. That, at least, helped me to feel justified in what had been done. We'd both live to regret our lives yet another day.

As I walked back to the Hangar, I couldn't help but indulge on yet another selfish thought.

Yesterday was Friday... Thank the Lord. No classes to come. Because God knew we'd hurt today, in more ways than one.

0032 hours and counting