The plan was simple: break into Provincial Hall and wipe the VF program clean. It was the part of the plan I knew I could do.

What I couldn't do? Pretend I was a Host and talk to them to prove it. Sure, putting on the grey jumpsuit and channeling my inner ninja was one thing, but looking a Host straight in the eye and sounding believable... that was hard to do.

Hosts had no emotions, no remorse. They'd see my sweating heart a mile away.

I'd made my complaints known hours after I'd agreed to it. If it'd been disclosed at the very beginning, maybe I'd listened to Roger and let them do it all on their own. Yet, the second I said it, he made a point to remind me, I would've gone along regardless. I was stubborn, curious, and once I had my mind set to a goal; I saw it through.

Which was why I stood under the midnight moon, staring at its light through the reflection on my smartwatch. Aside from the night sky, I eyed the time and temperature, as well as the eerie glow from my blue contacts. It was left in Erica's hands to make this mission as easy as possible, and as I blinked, I thought Peace needed to give her more credit.

She was the brightest woman I'd ever met; if she needed a comparison, I'd say Xerses—both highly intelligent and droll. Even before Roger ventured out to copy the Hall's layout, she'd started the design on contact lenses that resembled Hosts eyes. They glowed blue and behaved just the same; took one tiny computer chip to create numbers across the lenses.

But she could only make two pairs. That was the reason why only two people were meant to walk through the door. Of course, Peace meant for their two top people to be the ones to do it—Matthews and Douglas—but after I volunteered, Matthews hesitantly agreed to take me instead. It wasn't due to my bravado either; Douglas made him take me.

He'd said, "It looks better that way because the both of you are mismatched. Imagine two strong-arms rushing in. That looks suspicious."

"Second thoughts?" Matthews looked at me as he leaned against a light post at my right. I glanced at him before looking at the street around him, uncannily beautiful with the shadows brought on by the city's lights. I turned my head to look at more, but he lazily waved a hand in front of my face. "'Member, you can back down any time ya want."

"I'm not," I muttered, pushing his hand away. "I can do this."

"Oh?" Matthews shot me a grin as he faced Provincial Hall in front of us. It clashed between the steel, perfected buildings on either side of the street. Being one of the only structures to survive the last war, I couldn't help but think it was beautiful. Maybe it was because I saw it at night, because truthfully, in the mornings, it was boring, just brick and stone. Yet now, it was dangerous, but alluring, pulling me in with the task I needed to do.

Matthews grabbed my shoulder and broke my thoughts as I took a step forward. "If you're so confident, tell me the plan."

I glanced at his hand before following his arm all the way up to his jumpsuit. His was different, darker than mine; near his shoulder were metals only given to Enforcement officers. I wasn't sure who made him so decorated, but I had a good idea he did it alone; that, and his double gun holster, hidden well within his suit.

I, on the other hand, only had one gun.

"The plan?" I huffed. "We walk through the doors, tell the Codes inside we've returned from monitoring duty. You will report that all is normal, and we should retire to our rooms in the West Wing."

Matthews clicked his teeth. With the contacts, I admit, he creeped me out. I wonder if I looked the same to him. I need to calm down, I thought.

"Breathe." Roger's voice was soft in my ear. Considering he was on 'guard' duty, watching us through the city cameras, I hadn't expected him to return to my receptor, let alone talk to me.

"I am breathing," I replied.

Matthews, lifting both brows as he looked at me, puffed out a ball of air before he crossed the street. Quickly, I followed after him. I couldn't help but pat the holster on my hip and prayed the zippered pockets of my suit covered it enough. I knew it did, but I could only imagine what would happen if the Hosts found us out.

"Listen to your friend." Matthews let his foot hover the long, pale steps that led up to the building's entrance. "Breathe. And maybe, be quiet."

And here I thought Matthews and I were friends.

"He's right, you know," Roger chimed in right after, as though he heard my internal doubt. "Let him do the talking."

I'd never been the girl to follow orders easily, possibly another reason as to why I had such few friends. But when Matthews reached the double doors and tapped on the security panel, my brain told me to listen to him. Listen and do as he said.

"Remember," Roger's voice made me stop as we entered the lobby. "Both of you were assigned the numbers of the Codes Peace had killed. Matthews is 9062, and you're 7845. When addressed, make sure you respond to your number."

Right, I thought. I'd almost forgotten that Peace accidentally killed Codes in their attempts to save them.

"Up ahead is security, but don't worry, I've handled the machines. They'll scan you, relieve you both from duty, and from there, you'll head up to the second floor. That's where Polk is. Once you two have him in your sight, I'll call for Erica to give Douglas the all-clear. Your mission task as Team A shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes."

Team A—right, that's who we were. Douglas and ten other members were Team B. While we were the ones to secure Polk, they were meant to take down any Hosts who try to corner us in the hallways.

"Did you hear me?" Roger asked. "Just nod if you did."

I nodded.

Matthews stepped beside me as I looked up and around Provincial Hall's entrance. The lobby was white, sterile, and didn't look a thing like the exterior of the building; inside was as modern as the rest of the world I knew. A wide-open space with chairs that matched the perfect cleanliness; chairs that bordered a grey path that led you directly to the front desk. On the walls beyond that were the large screens you saw everywhere else, with commercials that played the Province's lies.

I watched as the images shifted from blue, to black, then white; words appeared across the center in symmetrical font: United We Stand. Reading it, I ground my teeth.

"Approach."

Beneath the monitors was a tall woman with long, platinum hair. She leaned against the front desk, hands on either side of her. When Matthews stepped forward, so did I, and she nodded, acknowledging us both.

"Identify," she said. Her voice, though soft as silk, was monotoned. Her face expressionless. Looking at her, I couldn't help but notice that the glowing, blue eyes that illuminated her pale skin was more natural than the contacts we wore. Fear told me to look away; common sense told me to relax.

Fear was the stronger emotion.

"9062." Matthews addressed himself by his number, hands at his side. There was a long pause after, and I felt him peering at me out the corner of his eye.

I gulped and looked back at the woman. "7845."

She nodded slowly, looked down at her computer, but not once did she hit a key. Instead, she sucked in a breath, so hard I thought she'd taste my sweat. I gulped again.

"Any oddities?" She lifted just her eyes to look at us. "Are the Codes with civil residences secure?"

Codes with civil residences... like, hosts within their apartments? Did they keep them in place? My lips parted as she spoke. If they checked for 'oddities,' was Xerses marked as missing?

"Every residence secure. All Codes accounted for." Matthews nodded his head so naturally, it looked like he'd done this before. "Shift terminated."

"Accepted." This time, the Code patted her fingers away at the computer keys in front of her. I watched so intently, mesmerized by the inhuman speed in which her fingers moved, that I didn't hear the whirring noises of bots nearby, or the sound of metal swooping down against air. It wasn't until a drone appeared in front of me that I reacted; I held my breath to keep from screaming.

"Scan required," the Code said.

The drone resembled an eagle, with metal wings that opened wide. Luckily for me, it hovered near Matthews first, turning its head and beady eyes in his direction. A quiet note, long and peaceful, emitted from the machine as a light flickered over his body.

I ground my teeth to keep steady. Was this the security scan Roger was talking about?

Though I eyed the drone-like an enemy ready to kill, Matthews bore no fear as he stepped towards it. He stood still and the drone moved around him; light touched every bit of his body. When it reached his hip, I tensed and sucked on the inside of my cheek. The gun, I thought, but nothing happened. The drone scanned over it as though it wasn't there.

My next breath left me in one slow puff. Roger did take care of the scanners, didn't he?

"7845. Approach for scan."

I paused. The second delay made Matthews shift and face me, even though he shouldn't have. His eyes told me to MOVE, and I realized then I'd already made one too many mistakes.

Sweat broke out on my forehead.

"Step into the light." Roger's voice placed a sense of reassurance over my heart, wiping away the fear as though it didn't exist. "I told you I took care of it."

Inwardly, I nodded and listened. Taking that step forward seemed like the hardest thing I'd have to do, but when the light touched my chest, I realized it wasn't hard at all. I gave Matthews a quick side-glance before looking at the beak of the drone in front of me.

The Code, with her head and hair dipped to one side, looked at me and said, "Scan required."

The light tingled when it touched my skin. Its whirring sound was chilling, yet calming because I knew no matter what the light touched, I'd be left unscathed. Yet, when it swung in close, its wing sliding against my leg, I tensed.

Every part of me was smaller than Matthews, my suit tighter. I knew my gun was well hidden, but I couldn't help but hold my breath, squeeze my eyes, and pray to all things holy that the drone wouldn't detect it.

It didn't. But that didn't mean it wasn't terrifying.

I opened my eyes as the drone returned to the Code's side. She tapped three keys before looking at me with dark eyes. "Scan complete."

♦

Matthews wouldn't speak to me when we were allowed to venture out into the neighboring hall. He kept quiet, stiff; though I was right on his heels, he wouldn't look at me.

I allowed him the silence as the bulbs overhead flickered on, one by one. Shadows destroyed by white light, and I could see the faux plants that decorated office corners. This part of Provincial Hall reminded me of school, plain and simple, without placing one subject over another. There were plenty of doors, but they were blank; their windows allowed one to peer into the darkness. Pressing up on my toes as we walked, I tried to look into one.

"Ask Roger where the stairs are," Matthews grunted under his breath and stopped.

Of course, I walked right into him and stumbled back three steps.

Still, he didn't look at me.

Rubbing my face, I stared at his back as I whispered to Roger, "Did you hear him?"

"I did," Roger responded. "At the end of the hall, there's a door that leads to both the second and third floors. Tell him the blueprints I'd given Douglas were pretty accurate, so..."

When I lifted my eyes and met Matthews' hard stare, I drew back an inch.

"On second thought," Roger sighed, "don't tell him that. Just say where the stairwell is."

"Right," I whimpered and nodded, but lifted my chin with fake confidence as I looked at Matthews. "The stairs are at the end, to the right," I gulped. "Like... the blueprints."

For a second, he stood straight and stared at me with wide eyes. Roger hissed that I shouldn't have said it, but I couldn't help myself. He'd changed like a flipped switch, suddenly looking at me like the man who'd kicked me in the face back at the store. If anyone had a right to be irritated, it was me.

I returned his gaze just as big and stood as straight as possible.

"Fine." His accent was as thick as icing. "But move your ass, hear me?"

"Heard," I mumbled as I followed closely.

The stairs were at the end, just like Roger had said, illuminated by that awful red light I'd seen one too many times. We took them two at a time. When Matthews pushed open the door to the second floor, I expected lights to turn on just as they'd done below—that wasn't the case. Nothing ate the shadows, and instead, they were allowed to wrap their cold arms around us and pull us in.

I held my breath with each step.

"Can I ask a question?" I asked as Matthews turned left down the hall.

"Shoot," he said, rolling his head around his shoulders.

"Do you think the officials are also Codes?" I turned back around as we walked, staring at the door that slowly shut behind us. It clicked when the wood met the frame, and I gulped as our light went dim to nearly non-existent. Thank the Province for the contacts we wore.

Matthews cracked his knuckles as he walked. "Don't think so. Makes no sense, ya know? Why put soldiers in people's minds, and then their own, too? Can't control them, not that way."

I nodded and pressed my lips up to my nose. "Good point," I whispered, but curiosity still swelled up my throat. "But what about Polk?"

"He's here." Matthews glanced back at me, the light from his contacts giving him an ominous glow. "Up ahead somewhere."

"Keep heading straight." Roger nearly startled me as he spoke in my ear. I paused to listen. "These hallways are empty, but he's just dead ahead. Double doors. Security panel on the side has a pin—4141."

"Right."

I rubbed the side of my ear slightly as his voice faded into static and I was left with just the flat sounds of Matthews' footsteps. It took him a minute to realize I didn't follow back as quickly as I should've. He turned to look at me. "Is there a reason you ain't movin'?" I could see his cocked brow. "Gonna be slow to react like you were downstairs?"

My mouth opened, then closed. That's why he stared at me like that, huh? Quickly, I shuffled forward and caught up to him. "Sorry. Roger was just telling me the pin to Polk's door."

"Oh?" Matthews lifted his brows. "Has he gone out, then?"

Gone out? I tilted my head as we walked. The light from two small windows caught my eye; the windows that looked into Polk's office.

Matthews noticed them, and nearly rushed towards the panel beside the doors. "Didn't think he'd go out and tell 'em without us grabbing Polk but can't blame him."

The doors were ceiling-high and made of steel, more like laboratory doors than an office. Curiosity hit, and just like before, I tried to look through the windows, but Matthews stopped me and pulled me to his side. He shushed me with a hiss. By the look on his face, I couldn't tell if I'd irritated him or he simply wanted me to keep still. A combination of both made sense.

He pressed buttons around the panel. "The plan was we'd get Polk, then have Roger run out, tell Douglas and 'em, but..." The panel beeped at him in warning. "The fuck?"

Had he forgotten the code? Or maybe he hadn't known it at all?

"Move," I sighed, and pushed him aside.

The panel reacted to the wave of my hand, bringing up the numerical keypad. Matthews sputtered, about to complain, but I had already entered the code: 4141. The sweet beeps were followed by the sound of unlocking doors. I smiled to myself, smug as ever. "See?" I blinked at him.

Matthews paused for a moment, staring at the panel first, then at my hands and the door. Before I could say anything else, he grinned and pulled his handgun from his pocket. I copied him because I thought I had to; though, I wasn't as graceful. "Okay, ready?"

"Oh, I'm ready, babe." He smirked. "Just open them doors."

Open the door, right.

I'd never held a gun, fired a gun—I'd never gunned before. But I'd seen enough movies. It wasn't ninja-like like I'd hoped, but it was just as badass. I couldn't help but sport the same grin.

We looked at each other once more, nodded, and with a gentle push, the metal doors swung open. The shadows around us died as light spilled into the hall like pooling blood. It brightened the grey of our suits, the black of our shoes, and out the corner of my eye, I caught the shiny glint of my gun. But I couldn't look at it.

I looked in front of us.

Was I wrong to assume that Polk's office would have been just that—an office? It wasn't. Sure, there was a mahogany desk with a slim laptop on top, but the walls took my breath away. It reminded me of Xerses bedroom, but times that by nine hundred.

From ceiling to floor were monitors and screens, all varying in size. On the floors were computer towers, and at the corners of the room were black cabinets. Taking one step inside after Matthews, I looked at the largest screen in the room, right above the tall office chair that had its back faced to us. Watching the screen, I expected to see something Province related like I'd seen everywhere else, but I didn't.

There was nothing. Just black. And code.

"Polk!" Matthews' didn't hesitate to point his gun at the chair. I could see the hands on the armrests, gripping the edges; a man's hands. When Matthews' gun clicked, readying a bullet in its barrel, the man's fingers rolled along the faux leather. "It's over, man! The assistants' gotta go!"

A part of me thought this was would be the movies, in the scenes where the enemy would turn around and shoot us dead. Instead, Polk chuckled... just chuckled. And yet, as much as it should've bothered me, I couldn't help but wonder... why was the sound so soft?

"Now, what I'mma need ya to do is, turn around, wit' ya hands up high, ready to surrender. We got men downstairs. We're gonna bring you in."

That chuckle turned into a laugh, and I knew then it wasn't a man's laugh. It was a woman's, even if it was deeper than normal. I gripped my gun harder than I meant to, out of nervousness, and shrieked when I accidentally fired at the ceiling.

"Clara!" Roger's voice, and Matthews', echoed in unison with my name. I felt Matthews' hands on my shoulders to keep me from rocking back into the door, but it shut before I could. In front of us, the chair turned around.

"Clara, are you okay?"

I opened my eyes wide and gasped, but not at the sound of Roger's voice. I was shocked by what I saw. In the chair was a man that looked like Polk, Douglas had shown me pictures, but it wasn't Polk. He had the same grey curls, the same hard face. There was even the same scar on his left hand.

Yet, what made him different was his eyes. They were blue—bright blue—and glowed eerily with numbers.

Matthews took the gun from me and pointed both at Polk's head. "Polk!"

"Clara." Realizing our situation, Roger grunted frantically in my ear. "Get out of there."

"I—I—"

Polk curled his fingers over the armrest and leaned so far back into the chair, his black shirt slid up, exposing the scars on his lower chest. His lips curled, his eyes twinkled far too bright. Then, he spoke, but the voice that left him wasn't his.

"Oh my," he said. "Is Roger here with you? Or, shall I call him 4963?"