Full Summary: The girls & I, Acadia Jones, are elite spies. Being a spy has its perks; advanced gadgets, all-expense trips around the world. But if trying to save the world from a new super threat isn't hard enough, we got other things on our plate; surviving high school, cooperating w/ the male-spy Specialists, rivaling with the Trix, the evil assassins from ALFEA's rival organization who have a mission of their own and will kill anyone who gets in their way. And when an elite organization gets involved in the mix and turns all of our worlds around, unlikely alliances, friendships, romances, and betrayals are made for the good AND the worst. Surprises are always around the corner in the spy biz, and not even we are prepared for everything in the road to come. Our world's a big and dangerous place and anything can go disastrously wrong at any given moment, especially with multiple forces planning our demise in the shadows. But don't cut us out of the game just because we're girls. Send us to hell and back, but we won't back out. We know what we signed up for, so wimping out is so not an option. Our new enemy doesn't waste time or play games but then again, neither do we. I won't lie and say we're prepared for all the shit we're about to face—not even close. But we have a secret weapon that'll push us forward no matter: our fighting spirit. And as long as we can depend on each other (Specialists included), there's no obstacle we can't overcome.

A/N: Here's my newest World-of-Winx fairy-couture Winx Club creation! I'm super excited! I've literally been planning this fan fiction for a few months now. I actually came up with the idea BEFORE World of Winx was released in November 2016, but I'm glad I waited to publish it because the series gave me some new ideas. I know, I know. I already have a Winx Club fan fic out, but I've been dreaming of writing this one forever. Plus, things are happening every day, and you never know what tomorrow will bring. And I would hate to not get a chance to publish this. Even if it's just one chapter.

I absolutely LOVE World of Winx! All the way back in November of 2016, I fell in love with it. The animation was just so clean and professional and the plot was more mature. I liked seeing the Winx in action without their magic—they were so badass! Thus, the series gave me some inspiration for this story. See, though I really liked World of Winx, I fell like the spy and magic elements…clashed. I wanted World of Winx to be some kind of spy/detective or police/crime drama show. I wanted to see the Winx fight for justice, but in a different way. I thought that was the whole point of the spin-off. But once the girls got Dreamix, all the spy stuff was just outright unneeded, ya know. And that was unfortunate for me, because I thought the spy parts were the most thrilling, but that got ruined once Dreamix rolled around. Seriously, I wanted the whole thing to be some kind of teenage spy drama. I wanted the Winx to be serious in that aspect. But they weren't. Thus, I decided to write this story. No Dreamix, no Magix, no magic.

So, I'm guessing this is the first World of Winx story on this site? I haven't seen any…

I wanted to carry my OC over into this story, because I love her character and you guys have told me relatable she is. Okay, let's see how this works. Be sure to leave some feedback so I can see how I did.

(Sorry if this is a little choppy. I'm BAD with first chapters).

"Let's get ready to go in, ladies."

Bloom Peters, aka Agent Wildfire in the field and the leader of our unit, clapped her hands together in a chop-chop manner. With her blazing carrot-red hair and black catsuit streaked with blue, she put Black Widow to shame. "Tecna, report," she said, sitting down on one of the seats that sided the touch-screen table in the center of the floor.

Tecna Zenith, Agent Digital Defender (Digit for short), our unit's nerd-slash-genius, swiped her finger across the wide touch screen, pulling up a giant grid of Manhattan. "According to Director Faragonda's intel, this is the location of the coordinates," she reported, zooming into the quadrant where a red light flashed nonstop. She focused her beautiful teal eyes on the screen. "Forwarding directions to you, Aisha," she said over her shoulder, pushing aside some hair that had managed to free itself from her asymmetrical bob-styled hairdo. She tapped on an electric blue box and dragged it across the screen into a corner. "Done."

Aisha Andros, Agent Titanic Tides, our go-to girl who was driving the Winxmobile, held up a thumbs-up without taking her eyes off the road as the same grid of the city appeared in the in-dash navigation widescreen up front. "Got it." She accelerated a little, progressing through the rainy streets of Midtown Manhattan. With flawless brown skin and wavy dark-brown hair that was pulled up in a flowing ponytail, Aisha was the muscles of the group—no lie, I once saw her take out a guy with a bobby pin.

Bloom glanced around the table at the rest of us. "Okay, girls. What do we know about the Comet Clan so far?" she inquired.

The brown-eyed blond sitting beside me, Stella Solaria, Agent Sirius Supernova, stomped her foot under the table. "It's so early!" she whined for the umpteenth time, pouting. "It's three in the morning! And I haven't had my caramel macchiato yet!" See, as the daughter of one of New York City's richest businessmen, Stella was…well…How do I put it? Oh yeah. Spoiled. And though we'd been on countless night missions, the wealthy blond still didn't seem accustomed with the whole normal by day, spy by night thing.

I kicked her in the shin. "Shut up already," I hissed, "and don't start that 'I'm tired' shit because we all know you were binge watching The Real Housewives before the director contacted us. You should be used to this by now anyways."

I, Acadia Renee Valerie Jones—my codename being Wind Dancer—was officially annoyed (which wasn't really anything new). I'd been this way ever since I found out about Mom's new boyfriend, Diablo, this morning. The last thing I needed was being introduced to yet another piece of shit that managed to weasel into my mother's life, making our situation even more complicated. And trust me, Diablo was nothing more than a handsome no-good motherfucker, just like the rest of 'em.

"Well, based off the CIA's database, the Comet Clan's a foreign crime gang from Russia," reported Tecna, her fingers flying across the large screen as she pulled up several different databanks. Being the computer wizard of the unit, Tecna was an expert hacker and could access any highly encrypted file within a matter of seconds. "They arrived here in New York City back in 2005 and have been proven responsible for several assaults and acts of terrorism towards other crime organizations, none of them being American."

"SYS?" guessed me and Aisha simultaneously, both of us referring to the big incident with an Roman hacking group that happened a few months earlier.

Tecna frowned deeply. "There's no proof that the Comet Clan was responsible for the explosion."

Stella rested her elbows on the table. "So they have beef with other foreigners," she yawned, waving way the detail as if it was no big deal. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Wrong, Stella. It could mean a lot, actually," corrected Musa Melody, Agent Sonic Siren, the Asian beauty seated on Tecna's right. Her dark eyes focused on the screen as Tecna pulled up more information on the Comet Clan. Believe me, this girl was just as musical as her name, if not more. From guitars to drums (she and Aisha practiced together sometimes), from hand bells to bagpipes, there was nothing Musa couldn't play.

"But that does explain why they proposed the offer," spoke up Flora Linphea, Agent Spring Flower, stirring some sugar into her tea (that's right. Thanks to Tecna's upgrades, the Winxmobile had a built-in high-tech beverage maker that offered dozens of dozens of different types of teas and coffees—not counting the exotic kinds—that could be brewed in a matter of seconds). As the peacemaker and pacifist of the group, Flora was soft-spoken, nature-loving, considerate, often shy, and genuine. When out together, people usually confused the two of us as sisters since we both shared the same tan skin, though I possessed shoulder-length black hair and silver-ish blue eyes, while Flora's light-brown hair flowed down to her butt and her eyes were deep-deep green (I'd been envious of her natural beauty ever since third grade. But then again, all of the girls had been. True-blue beauty queens were a little hard to come by these days).

"Though the Comet Clan might not pose as a threat to us, they're still capable of anything," pointed out Bloom seriously, "remember that time in Brooklyn with the Italian mafia? Let's keep our guard up and do this for the sisterhood, girls."

The rest of us nodded. "Right," we agreed simultaneously.

That's what we were. A sisterhood. Together, the seven of us were a single, unified group of government operatives (spies, basically) called the Winx Club. We worked for the American branch of ALFEA (Association of Futuristic Efficient Agents), an organization of secret all-female spies who fought and worked to protect all people. And as agents of ALFEA, we were known in the spy business as Fairies. Because in the field, that was what we were. Graceful, yet unpredictable. Dangerous, yet playful. Deadly, yet gentle. We Fairies were a lot of things, but honorable above all.

And as of now, we were on an assignment given to us by the director herself. Our job this early-early morning was to meet with the Comet Clan and purchase their newest, unique weapon they insisted on selling to ALFEA. None of us knew what this weapon was but as some of ALFEA's best spies, it was our job to deliver it to Director Faragonda.

Silence engulfed the vehicle as Aisha coasted through the lit streets. No was speaking because we were all thinking. Even Stella (which was a first). As a spy, one had to be prepared both mentally and physically. You never knew what would happen during a mission. Anything could happen and no one could prepare for everything. Thus, it was the way of the spy to accept this and if things did get tricky, it was our duty to make sure the mission was accomplished. No matter what. If you couldn't come to terms with this, the spy biz was not for you. Trust me.

Spy biz. I'd been a part of it for a few years now—ever since I moved back to Manhattan from Georgia. A lot of times, it was frustrating. Scary. Haunting. But thanks to the rest of the Winx, my burdens and worries were never permanent. Sure, I'd seen and survived a handful of things no teenage girl would ever want to endure or think about but thanks to my group, my best friends, I'd managed to overcome them all. We were a sisterhood. We trusted each other with our lives and our bonds were deeper than blood.

And though we were a group of seven girls, we worked as a single body. We knew how to work with one another and use our individual talents collectively to get the job done. That was just how we rolled. Again, we were a sisterhood. We'd always have one another's back.

"So what's this 'secret weapon' anyway?" asked Stella suddenly, making air quotes as she broke the silence. She looked under the table at the silver, bullet-slash-missile proof briefcase that set at Bloom's feet.

It was full of cash—the money Alfea was supposed to be paying the Comet Clan for their newest military creation. If it was legit. It was a no-brainer that crime organizations were shady (shadier than my deadbeat brother's past girlfriend. If that's even possible). They could try to swindle us. Or perhaps they were luring us into a trap. That's why spies like us always handled these kinds of situations—we were prepared to face any unknown variable that might sneak its way into the equation.

The rest of us sitting at the table turned to look at Bloom. "Classified," said Bloom calmly as we all left it at that. Bloom was the leader of the Winx. There were some things she was supposed to know that we weren't.

"Ten minutes," warned Aisha from the front seat, righting the vehicle down another street. Though the Winxmobile didn't have any windows in the back, I knew she was driving around in circles. That was a counter surveillance tactic—by going around in circles, we were ensuring we weren't being followed.

"Acadia, Musa, you two will come with me," informed Bloom, glancing between the two of us. "The rest of you will stay behind. If we need backup, you know the drill. Activate the watches."

We obeyed, all of us putting on our Winx Watchers. Our Winx Watches were some of the most essential gadgets we used. Shaped like butterflies, they appeared nothing more than fashionable accessories, but they were WAY more important than that. They were our comm units (ear communicators were so last year. Besides, I hated how sensitive they felt in my ears) and were equipped with super high-quality cameras. Each of us had our own Winx Watch, colored the same unique color that highlighted our similar black (and heat resistant) cat suits; Bloom blue, Flora pink, Stella orange, Aisha teal, Tecna light lavender, Musa magenta, and mine silver.

"The director gave me specific instructions on how to handle the situation, so I'll do the talking," went on Bloom seriously, her gaze staying on me longer than necessary.

I threw my hands up. "Hey, you know that shit wasn't my fault!" I snapped, "the duke would've found out about the bomb anyway!" It wasn't like I was hearing anything new. Ever since I was young, my family always told me my mouth would be my downfall.

"I'm not pointing fingers. I'm just saying this deal is important. Better we get this weapon and lock it away rather than someone else getting their hands on it and wreaking havoc."

"Someone else" could actually be a bunch of different people. ALFEA wasn't the only agency around. Dozens of others existed all over the globe, most of them organizations with corrupted motives.

I felt the Winxmobile stop, meaning it was time to leap into action. Musa, Bloom, and I rose to our feet, buckling our equipment belts around our waists. "You know the drill, girls," said Bloom, grasping the thick handle of the shiny briefcase. "This should take an hour."

Without giving further instructions, Bloom opened the door and the three of us stepped down the steps and into a dark alleyway. The sounds of nighttime Manhattan blared in the distance, but we didn't lose our focus.

And without saying a single word, we disappeared into the darkness.

"The ox stays still in the evening, but the lion poops at dawn."

Though Bloom recited the code phrase with nothing but gravity in her voice, I wanted to flip my shit. That sounded like something my five-year-old sister would come up with, not dangerous a dangerous crime boss. But nevertheless, I matched Musa's and Bloom's expression, keeping my face solemn.

We were in a wet, smelly alleyway not far from the one the Winxmobile was parked in. The three of us were standing under a fire escape before a metal door, staring at a pair of hard eyes that were staring back at us through an opened slot in the door.

Whoever the eyes belonged to gave an approving gruff and slid the slot closed. Seconds later, we heard him unbolt the door and pull the hefty piece of metal open. A man built like a refrigerator filled the doorway. "He's waiting," he said in a thick, hoarse Russian accent, stepping aside.

Neither of us exchanged words with him as we walked past, stepping into the darkness inside. We proceeded down a bare brick hallway, not even flinching when we heard the goon tightly shut and seal the door behind us. The air was stale. The lights were dim. Yep, this was a hideout of the Comet Clan all right. I could practically smell the dirty works that had transpired under this roof, the private conversations that had been whispered within the secrecy of these walls.

Bloom walked two inches ahead of us, holding on to the heavy briefcase. Musa and I fell into step behind her, not giving the goons glaring at us a second glance. They were holding rifles. But I wasn't scared of weapons. None of us were.

As we walked, I kept my focus on Bloom. She was a valuable asset of the mission, being the only one who knew what our specific instructions were. And being her colleagues, it was me and Musa's job to protect Bloom and the package. And it wasn't like Bloom was helpless—trust me, she was far from a damsel in distress. Though she never stopped looking straight ahead, she was noticing and analyzing the same things Musa and I were. She saw the three "hidden" security cameras in the ceiling without actually looking up. She made note of the heat and motion sensors embedded deep in the concrete floor. She was even memorizing the layout of the hallway, keeping track of the number of doors we passed and using their position to map out the design of the building just in case we'd need an emergency exit in the future. Her brilliant mind was at work as she did what every spy did best.

We turned a corner, coming to a pair of metal doors. Guys with big rifles guarded it, but stepped aside for us when they eyed the briefcase in Bloom's grasp.

The one with the scar above his right eye pushed one of the doors open with his free hand and Bloom proceeded into the dark room with me and Musa on her heels.

This room was dark and scale too, and the brick walls were bare accept for a single painting that hung above the fireplace. A long table-clothed dinner table set in the center of the floor, having only two chairs that were placed across from each other.

A groomed and graying man in a flawless white suit was seated facing toward us, holding up a wineglass as a butler poured him a refill. Two huge goons flanked his chair on both sides, holding rifles in orderly positions.

"Ah. I've been expecting you," said the man in the suit in a Russian accent." He gestured toward the chair across from him. "Please, take a seat."

Translation: What took you so damn long? Just sit down and let's get this over with."

One of his identical goons appeared out of nowhere, pulling the chair out from underneath the table for Bloom. The redhead sat down, laying the briefcase on the table. I stood on her right while Musa on her right, both of us remaining just as silent and motionless as the crime boss's goons.

The butler poured Bloom a glass of wine, but Bloom didn't touch it. "Mr. Mikhailov, we were sent here from ALFEA to purchase your newest weapon," informed Bloom professional, getting straight to the point. "Our orders are to get it to our facility as soon as possible."

Translation: "Just shut the fuck up and show us the damned thing."

The corners of Mr. Mikhailov's lips curled into a faint smile. "ALFEA doesn't waste time. Nor do I. Bring in the package," he ordered to no one in particular.

One of his thugs appeared out of nowhere, holding a briefcase similar to Bloom's. He handed it to Mr. Mikhailov, who set it on the table. My mind was spinning. According to Bloom, this weapon was dangerous, but it was small enough to fit inside a briefcase?

"Now, I assume ALFEA understands how hard it was for my scientific geniuses?" hinted Mr. Mikhailov, taking a long and slow sip from his glass.

Translation: "Where's my motherfucking money?"

"Of course, sir." Bloom nodded. In one fluid motion, she was flipping up the latches on her briefcase. When I saw the layers of neat bills inside it, I swore under my breath. I'd never seen so much money in one place. Thick rubber bands kept them all arranged in identical stacks, each hundred-dollar bill flat and smooth as if they'd never been touched, fresh off the press. Bloom turned the briefcase around for the Russian crime lord to see, but it never left her grasp.

Mr. Mikhailov was apparently just as impressed as me, because he leaned back in his chair with satisfaction. "ALFEA doesn't disappoint," he chuckled.

Translation: That's a lot of damn moo-lah.

"Before we can make the deal, I need to see the weapon," said Bloom calmly, slamming the briefcase shut.

"Yes, of courses, of course…." Mr. Mikhailov was about to open his briefcase, but one of his thugs appeared through a door in the corner and whispered something into his boss's ear.

The three of us remained silent as Mr. Mikhailov replied to him with a huge smile on his face, "Yes, yes. Let them in." A look of amusement and annoyance spread across his aging face as he turned toward us. "Looks like there's been a change in plans."

Just then, the door in the corner reopened and the same goon came back into the room. But he wasn't alone this time. Three girls proceeded in after him, flanked on all sides by armed thugs.

At the sight of them, I immediately hissed and Musa scowled. But Bloom didn't flinch. Her face indifferent regardless of the fact we were sharing the same space as our biggest rivals. We knew them. They knew us. And we hated each other.

"Well, this certainly is a surprise," announced Mr. Mikhailov, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice as the goons showed his new guests in.

As I mentioned, there were three of them. They all wore cat suits like us, except highlighted with chilling blue, dark purple, and deep magenta. They all wore sinister smiles that shrank when they laid eyes on us.

"Well, look who it is," announced Agent Frostbite, her smile returning. She was the leader of her trio, aka Icy, her real name. She was just as cold as her name, if not more. She literally had a heart of ice and was the most ruthless, vindictive, and cruelest of her group.

"If it isn't the little Fairies from ALFEA." The one with the long brown hair, Lady of Darkness aka Darcy, snorted. Unlike Icy, Darcy was more calm and competent, but was more devious and manipulative. She was an expert at discovering weaknesses and exploiting them (I'd witnessed her acts firsthand in Monte Carlo last year).

"Why are they here?" The youngest one, Stormy Night, real name actually Stormy, gave a sneer at us. She was the aggressive, moody one.

Together, the three of them were the Trix. Remember how I said there were other spy organizations out there? Well, they were a part of a bad one: Cloud Tower. If we were fairies, they were definitely witches. I couldn't count how many run-ins we'd had with them in the past.

"Ah, so we all know each other." Mr. Mikhailov eyed us.

"Save it, Mikhailov." Icy rolled her eyes. She snapped her fingers and her sisters set heavy briefcases on the table. "We're here for your newest weapon."

"What? No way! He's making a deal with us," I snapped, speaking out of term.

Icy rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. But you've failed to realize that we're offering more. So what do you say, Mr. Mikhailov?"

The answer was already written all over the thug's face.

"With all due respect, sir," spoke up Bloom. More like no respect. "What about our agreement—

Mr. Mikhailov smiled like a fat cat. "Sorry, my dear, but we haven't made our little agreement yet. And since a better offer has been presented…"

You fat fuck! I yelled in my mind. I did NOT get up at three o'clock in the morning just to be turned down by some dickhead in a fancy suit.

Darcy and Stormy opened the briefcases so we could all see the stacks of hundreds stacked inside. We lost. I already knew it. "If only all people paid this handsomely," said Mr. Mikhailov, his eyes wider than the moon. "Yes, I believe you have a deal." He turned to look at us. "Sorry, dears. Perhaps next time."

If I were in control, there wouldn't be a next time for him. But nevertheless, all we could do was watch helplessly as Mikhailov and the Trix made business.

As Mikhailov was reaching for his money and Icy was reaching to claim her prize, the unexpected happened.

All I heard was a shot ringing out and then I saw the red mass spreading across a thug's chest as he lifelessly collapsed onto the floor. And what occurred next was a blur—it was way too fast.

Everything was happening at once. As Bloom was alertly pulling away from the table, Mr. Mikhailov's butler was dropping dead onto the concrete. Another shot fired. The door was open. Big guys different from Mikhailov's were swarming in. Shots fired back and forth nonstop. Bloom was grabbing me and Musa's wrists, yanking all of us onto the floor for cover. More shots rang out. I heard swearing and shouting. Mikhailov's guys were firing their rifles while their boss screamed orders. I heard loud thumps. Banging. Struggling. Mikhailov's hideout was under attack, and we were in the center of the invasion.

Musa, Bloom, and I remained pressing against the floor, protecting our heads with our arms as bullets sailed in all directions. The shootout lasted for a few more minutes, and then everything became silent. Too silent. Deadly silent.

Cautiously, the three of us rose to our feet to find the battle was finished. All of Mikhailov's thugs were scattered across the floor, unmoving. Lifeless. Mikhailov himself was among them, lying down on the hard concrete, cradling Bloom's briefcase in his lifeless arms. His face was frozen in the last emoticon he'd ever feel: fear. It was obvious what had transpired. When things got tricky, Mikhailov had only one instinct: take the money and run. But they obviously backfired on him.

As Musa took back our briefcase, Bloom crouched down and observed Mikhailov's body. "Right in the heart," she whispered.

Something then came to my attention. "Where are the Trix?" I asked too loudly, my gaze scanning the room. My eyes landed on the table. Mikhailov's glass of wine had spilt over during the struggle, staining the white tablecloth red. But I wasn't fretting over the mess. "And where's the weapon?" I asked alertly.

It took us three seconds to put it together.

And then we were sprinting out of the room. The hallway was even messier. More of Mikhailov's guys were lying about, their fallen rifles inches away from their outstretched, bruised hands. A few guys who didn't look like Mikhailov's were dead too, but we weren't paying much attention to them. We were leaping over their bodies, making a break for the exit.

We burst through the metal door and staggered into the dark alleyway. It was the same way it'd been thirty minutes ago: empty.

"So the Trix set up Mikhailov?" inferred Musa with a deep frown. Rain started to fall, pelting down on everything.

"They're long gone," I spat, kicking at the brick wall of the building. But as if to prove me wrong, the sound of scuffling filled the air. Our heads snapped in all directions. "Where's that coming from?" I demanded.

Bloom looked upward. "The roof!"

With an instant, we were climbing the fire escape, hoisting ourselves up onto the rooftop of the building. Sure enough, the Trix were already engaged in a hand-to-hand battle with the mysterious offenders.

"Enemy or ally?" Musa posed the question quickly, but what was about to happen next would answer her question.

We felt their presence before we saw them. The three of us stealthily leaped out of the way as a group of dark figures swooped down out of nowhere like crows, landing on the rooftop with hefty thumps. They lunged at as the second they touched down.

"That answer your question?" asked Bloom, slashing a guy across the face with her boot.

One guy threw a punch at me, but I evaded it swiftly, ducking under his arm and grabbing hold of it from behind. I pinned his arm behind his back and then landed a blow on his neck with the side of my hand. The technique made him drop to the ground numb, and I moved on to the next guy.

I flipped a thug over my shoulder and then slapped a tranquilizer patch on another's arm as he attempted to knock me off my feet. As soon as I turned around, all I saw was the bottom of Stormy's heel and the next thing I knew, I was skidding across the roof.

"You fairies ruin everything!" erupted Stormy aggressively as she approached me with clenched fists. Behind her, the rest of the Trix and Winx were fighting off the thugs while going one-on-one with each other at the same time. As Bloom was giving a goon a knifehand strike to the neck, she managed to dodge Icy's roundhouse kick. As Musa leveled a guy, she swept her leg out and knocked Darcy off her feet. Meanwhile, the rain continued to downpour.

"Hey, don't blame us!" I hissed, leaping back onto my feet. I gestured around the rooftop at all the semi-unconscious bodies. "These aren't our forces." And from the looks of things, it wasn't theirs either.

Stormy leaped into the air and tried to aim a blow across my face but I dodged, countering with a butterfly kick. We were matched in strength and agility, so it was almost like we were sparing rather than fighting. "How'd you know about the Comet Clan's weapon anyway?" I demanded, blocking Stormy's punches as quick as she was throwing them. "They only proposed the offer to us."

Stormy smirked. "So you think."

I raised an eyebrow, eluding her spinning side kick. "Mikhailov came to Cloud Tower too?" I gritted my teeth as realization dawned over me. "That tricky motherfucker…"

Stormy caught my fist. "We won't return empty handed!" she snapped, "we'll take that weapon away from you even if we have to pry it from your lifeless clutches!"

My eyes widened, but not from the brutality of her threat. I leaped away from her, giving the whistle. Within an instant, Musa and Bloom were separating themselves from Darcy and Icy, regrouping with me. The Trix were doing the same, gathering together on the opposite side of the roof.

"I don't know what went down just a few minutes ago, but we don't have the weapon," I shot at our rivals. "We thought you did!"

"Us?" Icy snorted, folding her arms across her chest as the rain let up. "Yeah, right. It would've been ours if we weren't interrupted."

"We didn't have anything to do with that either." Musa frowned deeply. "Since that's obviously what you're implying." There was a tense moment of silence as the two parties glared at each other, their hair blowing in the wind.

"So if you don't have the weapon and we don't have the weapon…" trailed off Bloom, deep in thought.

And at that moment, nothing was louder than the harsh sound of an engine cranking up and tires squealing against pavement. Bloom, Musa, and I whirled around to see a plain white van racing down the street below.

"Shit!" I cursed.

Bloom didn't waste time. "Tides!" she shouted into her watch after turning it back online.

"Talk to me." Aisha's voice was calm and collected.

"There's a white van headed your way!"

"Got it."

"Wildfire, what's the situation?" asked Tecna's voice.

"We got attacked and the Tr—where are the Trix?!"

Just as the three of us were spinning back around, the Trix were jumping off the rooftop, disappearing over the ledge and into the darkness below.

"Shit!" I repeated as the rain started back up.

"Girls, we have a code red!" reported Bloom into her watch as she, Musa, and I jumped across the alleyway onto the next rooftop. "The Trix are after the target too."

"The Trix?" repeated Stella over the comm in our watches. I could hear her wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"They have the weapon?" questioned Flora.

"Negative. Mikhailov's gone and a mysterious group has stolen it," replied Musa, raising her wrist up to her mouth as we sprinted across the roof, lightly leaping over onto the next.

"So the Trix are after the van was well," inferred Tecna slowly. "Why were they there in the first place?"

"Later! Tides, we have a visual of the van," said Bloom seriously, "it's turning onto 39th street". From the top of the looming buildings, we could see the roads clearly. Sure enough, the mysterious white van was turning onto another street, disappearing from our view.

"See it," was Aisha's response. Just then, the Winxmobile came speeding down another road, curving onto (blank) street after the van.

"We'll see if we can infiltrate it. Girls, get ready," Bloom warned me and Musa. Working fast and not breaking our speedy pace, the three of us unhitched our crossbows from our equipment belt and aimed them at a building across the street. We then simultaneously fired our arrows, sending cables spiraling over the Manhattan traffic below. The cables fixed into place in the mortar above one of the apartment's top-level windows.

Next, we clipped the straps from our belts onto the outstretched line and zoomed across the street one by one, landing in a windowsill and quickly disassembling the zip line. Using the apartment's fire escapes, we ascended up onto the rooftop and continued our dash, disappearing into the darkness.

"Approaching your position. Get ready," Aisha gave us a fair warning over the comm unit.

"Right." Bloom looked between me and Musa. We nodded. We were perched atop the edge of a rooftop, waiting. Thanks to Bloom's shortcut, we'd managed to cut across Midtown before the Winxmobile and the mysterious van. And now, we were waiting to make our move.

"I see them!" Musa pointed in the distance, where a white van was gunning toward us, the pink Winxmobile hot on its trail.

Bloom, Musa, and I stepped up onto the ledge, readying ourselves. I was praying like hell. It wasn't every day we did something like this, and I still wanted to be around tomorrow so I could have my brother's Belgian waffles for breakfast (yummy!).

"One…" Bloom kept her eyes focused as the van sped closer.

"Two." My voice cracked with uncertainty. If we were off by even a second, we were deader than my little sister's old pet hamster (may you rest in peace, Mr. Hammington).

"Three!" we all shouted.

As soon as the van was in range, we leapt off the roof, descending down toward the road. And as Bloom calculated, we managed to land feet-first on the top of the van. Immediately, the suction cups on the soles of our boots activated, keeping our feet firm on the roof of the vehicle even though it was flying down the road at seventy miles an hour. I wanted to cry out in relief, but we weren't out of hot water yet.

Musa got to work. She took out a lipstick, drawing a red circle in the center of the roof. The crimson acid immediately ate the metal away, causing a circular chunk of the roof to fall out of place and into the inside of the van. Bloom and I took action, slipping through the hole and lightly landing within the back of the vehicle.

The armed goons didn't have a chance. Kicks flew, punches were landed, tranquilizer patches were slapped on. While Bloom took care of them, I was yanking a thug out of the passenger seat and taking his place in the cab with the driver. "Turn this motherfucker around!" I yelled at him, reaching for the steering wheel.

The driver growled, using his free hand to punch me hard in the face. I fell backward, my head slamming against the window on the passenger side.

I gritted my teeth, my vision blurring as my head spun. Fucker.

When my vision cleared up, I was ready I give him some shit, but I screamed to see the guy throwing open his door. Holding on to the silver briefcase, he jumped out of the vehicle, completely disappearing. Thinking fast, I slid across the cab and grabbed the wheel, turning the van into a convenient alleyway.

I swung open my door and hopped out onto the wet street. Musa climbed off the van and Bloom swung open the back doors of the van, joining us in the alley.

"They got away," I growled, clenching a fist.

The Winxmobile came to a halt at the end of the alley and the door opened. "C'mon!" called Aisha from the driver's seat, "we can still catch him before the Trix do!"

The three of us quickly climbed into the Winxmobile and Aisha took off down the street. Sighing, we sat down around the touch screen table with the other girls.

"What happened?" asked Flora gently.

Obviously disappointed, Bloom explained the past hour's occurrences to the others. "Hmm. So you say the guy ran off with the weapon?" mused Tecna, her flingers gliding across the screen. "If he's on the run, we can still find him."

She tapped on an application. "I'm launching the thermal scanner."

"Uh, Tecna. You do realize Manhattan is home to over a million people, right?" pointed out Stella, "there are lots of people walking on the streets." After running the thermal scanner, dozens and dozens of tiny red dots appeared on the grid. "See," snorted Stella.

"That one." Tecna pointed at the dot close to our location. Unlike the other ones, it was moving across the map rapidly. "You're right, Stella. There are lots of people on the streets, but who exactly takes a run this early in the morning?"

"It's gotta be our guy." Musa frowned.

"Only one way to find out." Tecna nodded. "Aisha?"

"Got it," she called back from the front, turning the Winxmobile around.

"This doesn't make any sense," I groaned, slouching in my seat.

"There's a third party behind this," stated Bloom grimly, "but the question is who? I didn't recognize those guys that ambushed us."

"What if they're from one of those foreign mafias we were talking about earlier?" suggested Stella, appearing uninterested.

Musa shook her head. "Their goal hadn't been to take out Mikhailov. They were solely focused on the weapon. Mikhailov just happened to get caught in the crossfire."

Tecna nodded. "I agree. If they truly wanted to destroy Mikhailov, they would've destroyed the weapon he created. But instead, they stole it and fled. 'Mission accomplished'."

"What was the weapon anyway?" asked Stella hopefully, hoping to catch Bloom off guard.

"Still classified, Stella."

"He's still on the move," reported Tecna, eyes locked on the digital map. Her eyes widened. "Wait a minute! He's right in—"

The Winxmobile suddenly jerked to a rough, abrupt stop, causing all of us to fall forward onto the table. "Aisha! What gives?" I barked.

"Someone just ran across the road!" Aisha barked back, "I was trying not to hit him."

"Our guy!" cried out Bloom, jumping to her feet. "Let's go!"

Seconds later, me, Musa, Stella, and Bloom were bursting through the door, charging down the wet street. "He just made the next right," reported Tecna's voice over the comm unit, "you can catch him!"

The four of us made the next right turn, sprinting into another alley. Sure enough, a guy was already making his way up a tall chain-like fence. "You! Stop!" called Bloom.

Halfway up, the guy attentively looked over his shoulder. Immediately, I knew he wasn't our guy. He was leaner and smaller. His hair was blue, the same color of his unreadable eyes. And instead of wearing a dark suit and sunglasses, he wore a bright yellow hoodie and a pair of jeans. Upon seeing us, he startled and disappeared over the chain-linked fence, disappearing around the corner.

Stella and I were about to go after him, but Bloom stopped us. "No! That's not him." She shook her head.

"But he's running away from us!" I snapped, "what if he has something to do with—" Bloom looked at me sharply, and I shut up.

"It's over," she sighed as the Winxmobile pulled up. "They got away. And there's nothing we can do about it. C'mon. We have to report to the director."

As everyone started for the Winxmobile, I stayed out. Something didn't add up here. That guy in the yellow hoodie had something to do with the early morning's unfolding.

And one thing was for sure. We'd definitely be seeing him again.

Count on it.