Evenfall (7 page)

Sin looked up at Carhart, his expression completely serious for the first time in the past few hours. "Him."

Carhart's blond eyebrows rose as he studied Boyd through the mirror. "I had a feeling that would be your opinion. It seems Vivienne had a point after all."

Sin looked at Boyd again and willed the boy to react to James' words but there was nothing there. Interest blossomed in Sin as he sat back in the chair. "Getting him to break will be fun, at least."

The General looked at Sin in consideration before he turned off the computer and the hologram disappeared from view. "We'll see."

Chapter 3

Boyd walked through the mostly empty hallways of the training complex. His steps were measured and echoed faintly around him as he headed toward his latest session with David Nakamura, the man who had been assigned to train him in physical combat.

Given the summarized job description he'd been given by his mother, he hadn't known specifically what to expect when training started. The situation was strange to him at times. He was in essence in classes or training for most of the day, which gave something of a collegial feel.

That impression was enhanced by the fact that he was confined strictly to the training complex; a large building with multiple levels that contained everything from a cafeteria to high tech training rooms to what amounted to dorm hallways. The rooms were small and minimally furnished and all lacked even a single window. With only the artificial light day in and day out, at times it felt like time had ceased to move. Rather than learning about art history and psychology, however, here the subjects were much more dire and, at times, macabre.

He'd come to realize that there were other people in the training complex who were training to be rank 9 but he was separated from them entirely. His training had to be much more intensive in order to be completed within the allotted time frame, especially since basic initial training was lumped in as well. Compared to his training, he gathered, the level 9 trainees had a leisurely walk through the subjects.

The classes he took were all one-on-one. He was taught about the Agency's goals and directives. They repeatedly stressed the importance of secrecy and success, and the consequences for the greater good if the Agency failed. Or, more accurately, if the agents in question failed.

He had deportment training as well. Those sessions focused on his behavior but also the way he looked. Over time, he concluded that the Agency took great stock with the idea of the physical perfection of the agents and staff. He wondered if that was why his mother seemed to continually note if he ever did not adequately meet her standards, or whether it was unrelated.

His main concern with deportment was that he hadn't interacted with anyone on any sort of consistent basis for years, and he'd always been a quiet person who preferred to be left alone if given the choice. Still, there had been a time when he'd wanted to fit in and he was used to observing people and their interactions. He learned quickly and didn't find it difficult to mimic others when necessary; he simply found it onerous.

There were other subjects and other sessions but what was the most time-consuming and labor-intensive was being taught how to fight. Prior to stepping on the Agency compound, he had never been a particularly physical person. His primary exposure to any type of combat had been through the button-mashing combos in video games.

He had never felt the need to learn any sort of martial art or even really exercise for that matter. As a result, physical training was the most difficult for him. He was unaccustomed to such intensive sparring that lasted hours at a time; at times the majority of the day. He typically went to bed exhausted but almost too sore to sleep, and when he was woken early in the morning there were times he wished he could tell them to leave him alone.

The training had so far proven to be extremely trying at times. It was especially difficult to keep himself disconnected from everything and everyone else when he was constantly being thrown into situations where it was impossible to do anything but interact. The combat training put him constantly in close physical proximity, with hands touching him and bodies sometimes pinning him to the floor. He varied between finding it alarming, disturbing, and simply uncomfortable.

David had noticed the way he had unconsciously shied away in the beginning and, apparently with the intent of driving that out of him, he'd then taken to touching Boyd more often than was necessary. It was all very professional or casual, with David's hands wrapping around his arm or casual thumps against his shoulder from behind; unexpected touches that had made Boyd jump at first. David had used it as a teaching tool to show him not to react, which gave his opponent an advantage by showing what could get to him, and also to hone his perceptive skills.

When David would hit him on the back, or shoulder, or arm, he would say things like, "This could be a knife. This could be a gun. You would be dead now."

It had taken Boyd a few weeks before he'd grown accustomed to it enough that it no longer made him want to pull away. It had taken longer before he'd been able to start noticing David before he approached.

He turned the corner and slowed as he approached the training room. There was a man and a woman standing outside, leaning against the wall. The man was slightly taller than Boyd with shaggy brown hair and dark stubble that was slowly developing into a beard and goatee. He had on training gear and was leaning closer to the woman than was necessary.

She didn't seem to mind. She was grinning at him as if in on a joke and batted him away when he grabbed her long blond braid and tugged it.

When Boyd came close to the door, they both looked at him.

"I wouldn't bother going in there yet," the woman said with a shake of her head. "Nakamura is on the phone with Doug and that always takes forever. You know how Doug is."

Boyd stopped, looking in the training room although he couldn't see much from his angle. He nodded. He assumed the Doug they were talking about was Instructor
Douglas Ferguson,
the man who was typically involved in all high rank training sessions. When Boyd had first begun training he'd been informed that the infamous Instructor was out of the country which was why David was filling in.

"Alright." He moved so he could lean back against the wall while he waited. "Thank you."

The girl continued looking at him with a puzzled look on her face. "What training are you here for, anyway? I haven't seen you around."

"It seems to be specialized training so I've largely been separated from everyone else," Boyd answered, looking over at her.

The two gave each other baffled looks.

"Huh. That's odd. I've never even seen you on compound, and you look so young," the girl went on curiously.

The guy rolled his eyes. "He doesn't look that young, babe. I'd say at least seventeen or eighteen. Right?"

"I'll be nineteen in a week," Boyd replied with a nod. He paused, looking at the two of them thoughtfully. "Why? How old are people typically recruited?"

"It depends," the guy responded with a shrug. "If you're a military or government recruit it's usually older but no later than mid-twenties. They like to get them young. But if you're a jail recruit or something else civilian-oriented, it can be basically any age. If you have the qualities they want, they'll take you whenever."

"A lot of R&Ds and analysts get recruited pretty early, I hear," the girl added with a nod. She was still observing Boyd closely as she absently fluffed her bangs. She had a strangely innocent quality to her face. "Mostly because a lot of them are like Mensa-smart. Once they go through testing, all kinds of Agency flags probably go off telling them to go run and recruit the smarties."

Boyd nodded. That seemed to fall in line with how he understood the Agency worked. He supposed it made sense to go younger for certain areas. Most mathematical leaps of understanding had been discovered by young men. It followed that analysis and computer-related fields would have similar trends. Still, he didn't know how early 'pretty early' was.

"I'm Cecilia, by the way. And this is Dover. What's your name and rank, anyway?"

"Boyd," he said and then paused, his eyebrows twitching down faintly in thought. "I'm not positive what my rank is."

Dover stared at him strangely. "That is beyond strange, dude. Are you a probie?"

Probie was the term for probationary agent and one that Boyd had learned fairly quickly. Higher ranked agents seemed to enjoy using it.

"I've been here about two months but I believe they're planning to see how I do through training. I think at the end I'll be assigned a rank if I pass but prior to that I haven't been told what I am."

This did not seem to be how things were typically done because Dover pressed, "Well where'd you come from? Why did they recruit you? Sometimes rank changes based on your background."

"I didn't come from anywhere in particular," Boyd said with a shrug. "I'm one of several people being tested to potentially be Agent Hsin Liu Vega's partner. I suspect they're waiting to assign an official rank until they see whether I would work as his partner in the first place."

Dover's eyebrows drew together, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why the fuck would a new kid with no background in anything in particular be training to be Vega's partner? That position is way fucking up there. That's beyond most people's rank and classification."

"Yeah," Cecilia chimed in, not looking too happy with this development herself. "Did someone recommend you for some reason? I mean, are you sure it's the Monster you're getting trained to be with?"

"I'm positive," Boyd said, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked at them. "My mother summoned me and explained the position. During the interview, they specifically stated his name."

"Your mother?" Dover asked, confused. "Well, who in the hell is your mother?"

"Vivienne Beaulieu."

They stared at him at first in uncomprehending wonder and then slowly, in twin looks of irritation and hostility. Cecilia actually backed away a step, her mouth turning down into an ugly frown as she looked him up and down in sudden distaste.

"Ah," Dover said flatly. "Now it makes sense."

The obvious shift in their demeanor made Boyd wary, causing his expression to automatically turn more neutral. Given that they'd changed after hearing his mother's name, the position of Vega's partner was apparently one of note, and he knew that his mother was in a position of power, it was not difficult to draw some conclusions as to their thought process.

Even so, the looks of hostility made him wonder if he was missing something.

"How so?"

"You're off the street with no background in anything and they're giving you that position?" Cecilia asked rhetorically. "Do you know how hard we had to work to even become eligible for rank 9 training and you're just being handed it?"

Dover scoffed and shook his head, looking away. There was disgust in his expression as well as bitterness. "Forget it, Cecilia. It's not even worth it. She'll do whatever she wants."

"But it's not fair," Cecilia insisted, glaring at Boyd with obvious dislike. Gone was the friendly girl who had been trying to teach him the ropes. "It's so not fucking fair."

Boyd was silent, watching them. Their argument made sense. If they'd worked hard to get where they were at, it followed if they would be upset by him appearing without any credentials and being given an opportunity due to his mother's word. He didn't know what to say to that. They had good reason to feel spurned but at the same time, it wasn't his decision.

"I don't know what to tell you," he said after a moment. "I've just been following orders. Perhaps you should talk to one of your superiors about it."

"Yeah," Cecilia said scornfully. "I'll get right on that but oh wait-- your mom is second in command of the Agency and obviously she doesn't give a fuck about protocol or hard work or people who deserve promotions. Obviously she doesn't give a fuck that I've been here for six years and am just now in rank 9 training and even then, I'm not guaranteed promotion. But I wouldn't expect some PR bimbo who's never trained or worked in the field to understand hard work anyway. All she is, is a talking head."

Dover shifted and looked uncomfortable, his brown eyes flitting around as if he was afraid of her being overheard. "Alright, alright-- let's just forget it for now."

But Cecilia didn't seem to want to forget it. She was flushed angrily now, her eyes narrowed into slits as she ranted. "Six years-- always having to work twice as hard as the men, always having to prove myself three times over while trying to escape valentines and you get to skip all that and get the second highest agent rank in the Agency. It's just like, mind fucking boggling that this is even allowed."

Dover grabbed Cecilia's arm and tugged her away from Boyd. "Don't be stupid. Just forget it-- he can just go running to his mother if you keep running your damn mouth."

Boyd's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't know what to say in response to her anger but the implication that he would tell on them irritated him. Being brought in by his mother didn't mean that he'd asked her to or that he planned to rely on that.

"I won't tell her anything," he said evenly. "We may be related but that is where the connection ends."

"Right. That's why she made sure her boy outranks 90% of the field ops in the Agency," Cecilia spat, flipping her braid over one shoulder. "Must be nice to get top pay and clearance right off the bat. Do you have any siblings that she's going to stick in here? Maybe she'll make the next one a captain."

This time Dover rolled his eyes and jerked her away, walking away from Boyd. "He probably won't live out the next few months anyway. He'll be gone before you know it. I can't believe you're getting all riled up over some faggy little twerp. I didn't even know the bitch could conceive, though; that's the most shocking part of that whole..."