Page 99 of Black and Brown

Shots from his chrome .45s echoed like thunder around the room as he took down holographic images with uncanny vigor.

At one point, he and Meridian were side by side, taking down men six at a time while Mirage watched their backs, unleashing a flurry of sleek, midnight-colored blades that sliced through the air in silence.

Mirage moved inside Grace’s shadow with an elegance that blurred the lines between real and impossible. He was true to his name, an optical illusion confusing the staff in the booth.

The moment Mirage revealed his twenty-inch fighting knives, Meridian pulled Whisper from his trench and swung high while Mirage went low.

Four men came in behind them, and Grace threw up one side of his armored trench and blocked the barrage of bullets before he lowered it in time for Meridian to turn and eliminate the threat.

Ex scaled the side of the wall, firing in the same direction as Grace, making kill shots in perfect sync. He hit the floor less than a foot from Meridian, and the three ended up back-to-back.

Meridian sheathed his stiletto sword and raised his Magnums. Grace had both arms extended, holding Berettas in his large hands as Ex drew his .45s. Backs together, they began rotating in a tight circle.

Mirage was camouflaged in the middle, rotating and twisting his body so he could throw his blades over Grace’s broad shoulders, past Ex’s narrow waist, and between Meridian’s long legs.

The booth made them push their skills to the limit as if they were pissed off that nothing they hurled at them made it within fifty feet of harming either a Black or Brown.

The four men obliterated each program, every simulation harder than the last.

After three weeks of twice-a-day training, they’d choreographed a deadly dance.

By the end of the month, they’d formulated a new fighting stance, three of them back-to-back with Mirage hidden in the middle.

No one would know where the phantom blades were coming from.

It was a unique advantage to have on their enemies.

The tech members operating the holograph training program and their handlers were on their feet, staring down at them as if they were the rarest, scariest animals in the world.

What was more satisfying was the director watching from the door, appearing ten times more afraid than he’d been at the debriefing.

None of them looked away.

Meridian could only imagine how the director felt with four physically and mentally enhanced assassins with concealed faces glaring in his direction.

Grace

“Mission begins in seventy-two hours,” Mirage said to the Blacks after they stepped off the elevator.

They’d found some corruption in the director. He’d been receiving funds from other countries to orchestrate illegal missions, espionage, aiding and abetting international terrorists, and the list went on.

But one thing at a time.

First the Greens, then the director.

He and Grace walked down the hall, stopping in front of their doors.

“You going to check out your new kitchen?” Mirage smiled at him.

Grace nodded.

He was anxious to see what Giorgio had done. He’d had Grace’s basic instruction on his must-haves, and he’d left it up to the designer to add whatever embellishments he thought Grace would like.

“Sounds like you want some alone time…”

What?

“I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be in the cafeteria for break—”