Colour Coded: The Black Bullet

by Katy Jordan

  His words of authority carried across everyone’s ears like an old, beautiful melody.

  When The Spectrum spoke, no one else did.

  Not out of discipline or fear; out of nothing but respect.

  Bullet looked through the window in the room that looked like a mirror on Jack’s side. She watched him display nothing but fear and anxiety.

  “Cut him loose,” she demanded.

  “What?!” Gecko screeched.

  “But, Flare…” Tide began.

  “What he did to Flare was atrocious,” Bullet finished, “and condoning it is something I will never do. But, we need him to keep up the charade. I’m going to see Flare and tell her what’s happening.”

  Bullet headed out, confidence consuming her again, allowing her to feel content in her own skin once more.

  “Let him go, guys!” she shouted back as she passed the door that led to Jack.

  She heard the echo fall back down the corridor, knowing that Jack would hear it, knowing that it would confuse him, knowing that he would panic.

  Knowing that he would do whatever they asked him to.

  It was official.

  The Black Bullet was dead.

  Chapter Three

  The hospital ward had no colour mixed in with the lilac, other than the blue sky that could be seen through the windows.

  Everything was cleaned to a pristine condition.

  Bullet walked down the centre aisle past multiple empty beds until she stopped stunned as she reached Flare, who lay still in her bed, eyes closed, a drip attached to her arm, looking extremely worse for wear.

  Bullet approached her and gently sat on the side of the bed. She eyed her friend who lay weak and sore on her hospital bed.

  Bruised. Beaten. Pained.

  Bandages covered the most part of Flare’s arms and body.

  Her face had stitches holding three horrid looking cuts closed near to her eye, her other eye black as night with bruising. She gently stroked Flare’s arm with the back of her fingers. Her friend stirred, showing a sheepish smile as she acknowledged Bullet beside her.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey you,” Bullet replied, “how do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve been hit by a spiky bus,” she flinched and winced, groaning in pain, as she tried to sit up in bed.

  Bullet grabbed at the pillows to help her be more comfortable.

  “Thanks,” said Flare.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you sooner. We tried everything.”

  “It’s fine. You got me home in the end,” Flare reassured her.

  A moment of silence passed, as Flare took a gulp of water from the glass that sat on the gleaming lavender-coloured table next to her. Bullet fiddled with one of the bandages on Flare’s arm, trying to work out how to break the news of their plans to her.

  “What’s going on?” Flare asked, suspicious.

  Bullet looked as guilty as sin while she prepared to tell Flare all that was discussed.

  “We spoke to Jack,” she began, “and we’re letting him go.”

  “You’re letting him go? Why? The guy tried to kill me!” Flare cried with rage.

  “I know. I know he did, and believe me, he will be punished for that,” Bullet informed her, trying to calm her friend. “But, we believe he can help us stop Neon. The only way to do that is to have him playing for our team. He’s going to be our man on the inside.”

  Flare thumped her glass on the table, frustrated, angry, facing herself away from Bullet who merely looked at her showing nothing, but love and concern for her friend.

  “Tell me what happened,” Bullet requested.

  “You already know,” Flare snapped, “he put on crazy rings, smacked me around, and started to play Russian Roulette. I freed myself, got hold of the gun and called for help. How many times do you want me to say it?”

  “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. You said nothing about the first two days. What did he do to you?”

  Flare began to well up as she recalled the first two days in her mind’s eye.

  Her bottom lip started to quiver, and she looked up at Bullet.

  “I kept calling for you,” she sobbed, “I was screaming your name, I was calling for you but you didn’t come,” she cried freely to Bullet, who looked nothing but guilt-stricken at Flare’s words.

  “I’m sorry,” Bullet too began to cry.

  “I thought he was going to kill me. I honestly thought that was the last place I was going to see. He’d be the last person I ever spoke to,” she explained, “I don’t know how he got me at my last mission location, or even how he knew where I’d be. I put out the fire, I was heading down the stairs, and everything went black.”

  “He hit you from behind?” Bullet clarified.

  “Must have done. Anyway, when I came to, I was duct-taped to a chair, and he was sitting in front of me drinking vodka… or maybe gin. He started asking me about you. The Spectrum. Everyone. He said I could tell him because he was ‘one of the good guys’. But, I refused. So, he said he would start at the bottom and work his way up… and that’s when he pulled out the bat.”

  Bullet closed her eyes in horror, as Flare continued to explain the series of events to her for the first time through her voice choking up and breaking, her sniffling, and her squirming uncomfortably. The brutality that Flare described had Bullet regretting her decision to let Jack go. That they should have come up with a different way.

  But, it was too late now.

  He was probably already getting geared up and briefed.

  “This is… that’s horrible. Flare, I’m so so sorry. I tried everything I could to find you. We’ve never heard of that safe house before. It must be new.”

  “Why did he want to find you so bad?” Flare asked, dismissing Bullet’s last comment.

  “It’s a really complicated situation,” she replied, “and that’s before we even know the whole story.”

  “Well, what did you get out of Jack?”

  “Apparently, I’m dead,” Bullet mocked.

  “What’s that now?” asked Flare, baffled.

  “Neon’s been telling people I’m dead. Jack’s not sure if it’s some kind of trick, or if Neon actually believes it. So, we’re sending him back to find out, and see what else he can dig up,” said Bullet. “In the meantime, you get some rest. And remember, you can talk to me about anything, any time, you hear?”

  Flare nodded as Bullet got up off the bed.

  She turned to face her again before she left.

  “I know you’re upset about us letting him go, but it was the best plan we had at the time. This is going to work.”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Flare. “But, Bullet… if it doesn’t? If he betrays us? I’m just letting you know I’m unleashing my flame thrower on him.”

  “I may be good with a gun, but I would never step in the road of the Fuchsia Flare. Especially when she’s getting down to business with the flames,” Bullet smiled at Flare, who returned the loving gesture.

  Flare relaxed back into her pillow as she watched Bullet walk out, her heels clicking against the tiled flooring, her hips swinging from side to side with authority and confidence. Bullet left the hospital ward and headed to the conservatory, never for a moment reducing her speed to get there.

  A small, elegant seating area resided there, with eight different chairs; one pink, one green, one yellow, one blue, one purple, one grey, one red and one black.

  She settled herself on to the black chair; her chair.

  Bullet looked out the window that stretched from ceiling to floor at the other side of the room. The conservatory was also known as the upper foyer, as it rested on a balcony above the main entrance area to the building.

  Light flooded in from the afternoon sun burning high in the sky through the glass wall ahead of her as Bullet took a moment to herself and admired the always beautiful view of the countryside.

  “How did she take the news?”

  Bullet bare
ly even flinched when The Spectrum’s low and respectful tones penetrated the quiet air.

  He walked right past her before she even answered, and he too looked out over the balcony at the view.

  “She took it as well as you’d expect,” Bullet replied, resting back into her chair, worried about her friend. “She’s anxious. Not that I can blame her.”

  “Nor can anyone else,” The Spectrum replied considerately, “what she has gone through is an ordeal that can only be experienced, yet no one should ever have to. But, the Fuchsia Flare is strong of will and of mind, much like the Black Bullet, and much like the rest of the team. Because that’s how you were trained. With time and support, she will find a way to make this part of who she is and use it to her advantage, rather than think of it as something that happened to her that holds her back.”

  Bullet hung on every word her boss let out aloud, all the while with him never turning to face her. She viewed him with much love and regard, and the loyalty she felt for him was something she had never felt before.

  She knew he was right about Flare.

  Bullet knew that with time and patience from the rest of Colour Coded, Flare would plough her way through all her fears and anxieties and come out the other side even stronger than she was before.

  There was nothing but silence between Bullet and The Spectrum. It was peaceful, calming, and both were no less than content with it.

  He stood like a statue, staring out to the world which was displayed to him, hands clasped behind his back.

  “This view has always taken my breath away,” he said, “I feel it puts things into perspective. That the world is so big, and yet, we only play a small part in it. Thus, we must do what we have to to make our presence known,” The Spectrum spun around to face her, his hazel eyes beaming at her gladly. “Jack will need to be briefed on what is to be done, and to do this you will all need to come up with a plan of action,” he stated, as he held his silver, glimmering cuff link up to his face.

  “This is The Spectrum. A discussion needs Colour Coded. Make your way to the conservatory immediately, please.”

  Bullet heard her mentor’s voice both in person and through her own earpiece that they all wore from awakening in the morning to going to sleep at night. Voices niggled in her ear as they confirmed The Spectrum’s requirements and made their way to where they stood.

  No more than five minutes later, Tide, Lab, Gecko, Youth, Sparrow and Rocket joined them on the balcony, taking their designated seats. The Spectrum, without releasing his clasped hands, began to pace the length of the sitting area.

  “So, we start how we always start. What do we know?” He began. “Is Jack on board with our plans for him to be our man on the inside?”

  “Yeah. He took a little convincing though, but he’s good to go now,” Gecko replied.

  “Good,” The Spectrum exclaimed. “Now, what are the specifics? What are his main objectives?”

  “To eavesdrop on Neon?” Tide offered. “Isn’t that all he’s doing?”

  “Yes, Tide, it is. But, what specifically is he listening for? What information should he be aiming to seek out as his first priority?”

  “Any information on Bullet,” Rocket piped up.

  “Indeed,” The Spectrum beamed at him, “and?”

  “Any information on Colour Coded,” Bullet added.

  “Precisely! Any content on Colour Coded that comes up in discussions or conversations must be reiterated to us,” he clarified. “And now, method of communication. Youth?”

  “Well, obviously giving him high-tech equipment from here would make him stick out like a sore thumb. Neon doesn’t have that kind of technology…”

  “…that we know of…” Lab cut in.

  “…Yeah. That we know of. So, it’ll need to be sleek and easily concealed and not too difficult to work, because Jack’s skills are rather limited in that area. But, I think I have a plan.”

  “Let us hear it, boy,” The Spectrum requested, as everyone listened intently.

  “Well…” Youth began, as he took his phone out of his pocket and fiddled with it, “it’s not quite finished yet, but I’ve been working on a new earpiece. It was meant to be for all of us, but I can give him the prototype after I tweak it a little,” he stated.

  As he held his phone out on the palm of his hand, a hologram elegantly rose from the screen, revealing his latest project.

  “It looks like goop,” Gecko said, scrunching his face up at the image.

  “I suppose it sort of is, in a way,” Youth continued. “Basically, it’s a long-lasting gel that moulds to the shape of the inside of your ear. I saw something similar on an advert as a treatment for people with tinnitus – I thought it would make for a good cover story. There are small chips in the mould that, when communicated with, change the frequencies to…”

  “Cut to the chase, Youth,” Sparrow said boldly, displaying his boredom by slouching on his chair and squashing his face on his hand.

  “Uhh… right… so, it moulds to the shape of your ear, it won’t show up in metal detection, it comes fitted with a cover story, and it’s almost finished,” Youth concluded.

  As his phone sucked in the hologram, he folded his arms and relaxed into his chair, pride oozing from him.

  “That sounds perfect to me,” Bullet stated.

  “I guess it’s okay,” Sparrow unenthusiastically waved, still bored.

  “I suppose it’ll be fine,” Tide reluctantly agreed, looking confused.

  Bullet leaned over and took her hand.

  “Don’t try and understand how he does it, honey,” she giggled.

  “But… it’s gel. How can you hear through gel?”

  “Because…”

  “DON’T!” Sparrow cut Youth off again. “Don’t even start. You’ll give us all a headache.”

  Silence slowly lulled over Colour Coded, and they turned to look at The Spectrum, who merely raised his eyebrows.

  “Visuals?” He said, implying that they should have thought about that.

  “Oh, I can give him five small cameras that will be attached to his clothes, and that way we can follow him around Neon’s premises. They have Wi-Fi attached so I can access them, and we can watch him from the comfort of our own home,” Youth stated, continuing to feel immensely proud of himself.

  “What if five cameras isn’t enough?” Tide asked anxiously.

  “I can go in with a disguise and supply him with more,” Gecko said.

  “I can also use one of my drones to do occasional perimeter checks of the premises,” Sparrow volunteered.

  “What the hell is this?” Jack’s voice rang out over their discussion.

  Nobody had noticed that the whole time Jack had stood by listening to the entire conversation they had about him and his ‘objectives’.

  Nobody apart from The Spectrum.

  “Why do you need all of this? Can’t I just go and ask him?”

  “No,” Bullet replied.

  “Why not?” Jack barked, angry.

  “Because, young man, Neon set you a task to capture and question the Fuchsia Flare with whatever means necessary, did he not?” The Spectrum stepped in, revealing his authority within the building.

  “Yes,” Jack confirmed.

  “And you had a deadline, I assume. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, Flare overpowered you, and called us to the scene, thus, I continue my assumption that you missed your deadline. Correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you think after all of that, Neon doesn’t know that we have you? Do you think he ponders if your good self and the Fuchsia Flare fell madly in love and ran off into the sunset together?”

  “Obviously not,” Jack retorted, agitated.

  “Well, m’boy, if it is so obvious, then clearly the reason you cannot ‘just ask him’ is also obvious, no?”

  Jack said nothing as he felt belittled by the man that they all called their boss.

  “If he knows you hav
e me… how am I going to convince him I’m on his side?” Jack asked nervously.

  “That’s what we are trying to figure out,” The Spectrum replied softly.

  He looked at Jack standing far away by the back wall, his hands stuffed so far into his pockets his knuckles almost burst through the seams, his tense and stiff posture beginning to tremor with nerves.

  “My dear boy, come over here, please.”

  Jack edged closer to The Spectrum, who had his arm extended warmly. Jack walked past the chairs and stood by him in front of everyone, curious.

  “Introductions are in order,” The Spectrum clarified, reading his expression. “You have met the Black Bullet. She specialises in guns as well as other weaponry. Her key weapon is her beloved sniper rifle.”

  Bullet smiled gracefully.

  “Over here we have the Yellow Youth. Youth is our expert in all things technological and manufactures gadgets and other helpful items for any missions we embark on. If you are James Bond, he is your Q. On his left, is the Green Gecko. Gecko can blend in anywhere, much like a gecko, with the exception that he uses backstories, costumes, wigs, accents, etc. when clearly that is something a gecko cannot do. The Fuchsia Flare you are aware of as you spent some time with her for a period of three days, but as I predict that your meeting wasn’t for a catch-up; she specialises in all things to do with fire, starting them, containing them and putting them out. Here, we have the Red Rocket. Rocket not only fixes our vehicles, but if you’re late for an appointment… he’ll have you there before you’ve even shut the door. To his right is the lovely Lavender Lab, who deals with all narcotics and is also our lead first aider. The Silver Sparrow is not only a registered pilot, but is also a stealthy drone operator. Lastly, meet the Teal Tide. She is an Olympic level swimmer, as well as someone knowing all sorts of things about water you never thought could be possible. And I am The Spectrum; I hold all the colours together. I tell them when to shine, when to mix together and with what other colours, or to merely use shades of their own. When we are together, Jack… we are Colour Coded.”