Wyatt woke up and gasped, sitting up so quickly his back ached and he had to lie back down.

"You're awake," Cassie said. She sat on the edge of his bed, her feet dangling an inch above the floor, swinging slightly. Near her, Chase was busy snoring on the chair.

"He spent nearly all night pacing, waiting for you to wake up," she explained.

Wyatt raised his eyebrows before smiling.  He felt his cheek bandaged up, and stitches made it feel strange. He rubbed his left eye, hoping to clear the blurriness. It didn't go away as he rubbed it until he was tearing up.

Cassie put out a hand to stop him. "Stop."

"What's with my eye?"

She bit her lip. "That sword...when it first stabbed you, it was too close to your eye. The position of your eye, the light it takes in...it's diminished. You're nearsighted in that eye."

He jumped out of bed and stumbled across the room, tripping into the wall in the process. His head hurt with every step, and Wyatt broke into a cough. Chase woke up to the ruckus.

"What's going on?" he mumbled sleepily.

Wyatt fell against the wall. His head hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

Cassie knelt down to eye level. Her green eyes met his silver ones and he calmed down a bit. "Royce said to meet us in the meeting room."

He took a deep breath before standing up. The blurry vision in one eye made him feel like he was on narcotics. He swayed as he walked down the hall, and soon he relied completely on Chase as he walked, leaning against his brother, his feet nearly dragging on the ground.

"Bro, you have to lay off the Twinkies," Chase groaned.

Royce was staring out the window when Wyatt, Chase, and Cassie walked in the door. The table seats were all occupied by more of his workers. Some were the same age as Wyatt, others were technically older than Royce.

A lot of them had many scars, eye patches, missing teeth and fingers, as well as a bloodthirst for people.

"Well, at least I fit in with them now," Wyatt laughed darkly to himself.

"There you are, Cassidy. I was wondering where you've gone." In the background, a few guards catcalled and Cassie flushed bright red.

Royce smiled and raised his hand for silence. Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. Royce glanced over before looking away. He pressed a button on his computer and up popped an image with a boy on a wanted sign.

"Woah," Chase muttered, "The family is offering 46 billion to find this kid? He must be important."

Royce gestured to the screen. "This," he stated, "is Greyson. Greyson Belmont."

A collective gasp arose from the room. "Greyson?" Cassie asked. "Isn't that the rich Belmont boy who ran away four years ago?"

Royce nodded. "From the research and information, I have reason to believe that Greyson has Blades Magic, a rare Summoning Type." He grinned slyly, "That makes him the perfect fighter. Hatred for even his family and a fighting type magic makes him the perfect...weapon."

Was it just Wyatt, or did Royce glance at him when he said "weapon"?

"He is around this area. Your duty is to catch him."

"Why do we catch him? Money?" someone in the crowd asked.

Royce shook his head. "No. He is a fighter. A weapon that has many weaknesses punctured in it. I will use him to my advantage, not return him to his family."

"Now, everyone, including you, Wyatt, Chase, and Cassidy, find that fugitive. I want him here by the time the sun rises, or you'll all be dead by dawn."

*****

Mystery Person: Greyson Belmont

It didn't make sense. All he'd done was sit down for a while and listen to the pitter patter sounds of the rain while eating a bagel spread with grape jam. Horrible tasting. If he could taste. It was really just sugary to him. He enjoyed the tingle of cold metal on his fingerprintless hands.

All of a sudden, they came. An army of people, led by...was that Jack Clark? The fondest memories of his life replayed through his head. His idol and tutor at one time, Jack Clark. The person he'd searched for for four years had finally showed up. Wait...no. He squinted. Jack had blue eyes, not silver. And ...what was that bandage on his cheek, the marking on the other cheek? This wasn't Jack Clark.

He didn't even have time to react. They cornered him, taking  him away with brute force, shoving him forward.

"No...no! Don't take me back there! No!" he screamed hysterically. "I can't take it there, you can't take me!" He broke free of their grasp and tried to run as fast as he could, far away. The girl with the boy with blue hair before was onto him in less than a second, tackling him to the ground. Speed, he realized. Speed was her magic.

He continued to struggle until one of them hit the back of his head with a club. He fell again, and this time, everything went black.

He woke up on a table. An operating table. A man with silver hair and slanted red eyes peered down at him. Beside him were the girl, the boy who looked like Jack, and another boy who reminded him of the people that bullied him a lot.

"Relax, Greyson," the man said.

"How do you know my name?" he whispered.

"I know everything about you, Greyson, from your favorite   dish to the type of shoes you prefer. And," he added, "how much you want to be free from your rotten past. I can help."
Greyson shook his head. "No."

The man raised his eyebrows. "No? That's a shame. It could have made my job easier."

Greyson's eyes widened. He struggled, started screaming for help. No one listened. No one helped. That was like his old life.

He felt his memories start to drain from him, even the good ones. What's my name again?

The man smiled when he sat up. His eyes were big and blank. Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew that something had happened. He no longer acknowledged that fact.

"From now on, your name is Dagger Belmont. You have no taste nor touch, but your other three senses are sharpened by a lot. You are working to get your memories back from me."

The man's voice dropped to a whisper. But, with Dagger's new hearing, it was clear as a bell in the morning sky.

"Fly free, my precious weapon. Your time will come soon. Your time serving me, Royce Hunter, might end very soon."