Around the Compound #1
a side story with Rebecca and Sin
Written on 7/15/08 by Sonny
This is part of the Around the Compound series. Life on the compound as seen through the eyes of the many unnamed (and unappreciated) civilian staff members who are the main cogs in the machine that allows the Agency to run.
Incident #1: Rebecca
The combination of stark white walls, glass surfaces and silver accents had once seemed glamorous and modern but now it just contributed to the boredom of the day. Not for the first time on that dreary, rainy Thursday did Rebecca wish that the people who ran this place would pick up an old copy of Home and Garden magazine and get some design tips. A splash of color here and there would liven the place up quite a bit and make the stir-crazy feel a little less institutionalized.
"What do you think the Inspector, or whatever she is now, would say if I slipped some design magazines under her door?" She mused out loud, peacock blue eyes narrowed slightly in contemplation. She wondered what Inspector Beaulieu would prefer to be called. Technically she was the acting Marshal until a replacement was found but it seemed strange to refer to her as such. Simply calling the woman 'Vivienne' was a big no-no and sounded wrong even in her mind; there was just something about Vivienne Beaulieu that made that level of casual familiarity seem wrong on multiple levels. She couldn't even picture the Inspector in a casual setting; she couldn't bring herself to imagine how the woman had conceived a child when she seemed content to keep everyone at triple arms length.
Maybe her son was a test tube baby...
"I think you wouldn't be able to get close enough to try," Trisha, the back up receptionist, replied with a snort. "Besides, I doubt she's responsible."
Rebecca nodded in mock seriousness, slouching against the desk as she leaned on one hand. "Who should we blame then? The Marshal? But he's dead--that's no fun."
A shrug and Trisha didn't look up from her newspaper, the conversation obviously doing very little to entertain her.
Disappointed that Trisha obviously didn't want to participate in her repartee, Rebecca sighed and stared out the glass doors that separated the hallway from the reception area of the Payroll Department.
Sometimes it was hard to believe that a place like the Agency could be so incredibly boring at times. Just a couple of months ago there had been gunfire and blood in the streets and now things had slowed down to such a dull, sluggish pace that it seemed everyone was standing still around her. But she sincerely doubted that was really the case; she supposed that the actual agents were busy enough and she could only speculate as to what they were doing about the attack that had been waged on the compound.
For someone who had one of the lowest and most menial positions in the organization, boredom came naturally and speculation typically got her through the day. She'd spend hours wondering what the field agents did when they were sent away, what sorts of things the Agency was up to and what events reported on CNN they actually had a hand in.
Even though the exact going ons were never disclosed to civilian staff, everyone knew that the field operatives had their hands in seriously hardcore espionage, both combative and undercover. Everyone who worked on the compound was sworn to secrecy and subject to the same kinds of punishment should they even say that much to anyone outside the Agency but that only made Rebecca want to know more.
Hell, she'd get in serious trouble regardless so why not let her in on the whole deal?
But no one saw it that way and no one talked, not even about the attack that had very closely touched them all. It was kind of nerve-wracking in a way but it also had caused her to have a slight adrenaline rush at the concept of having been so close to actual action.
The whispers in the halls claimed that the attackers had been everything from a rival agency to a rebel faction that they'd pissed off to the disturbing notion that it could have possibly even been an uprising of sorts by employees.
But who could blame them if it had been? Even she'd seen how hideously tyrannical Marshal Connors had become around the holidays. A suspicious number of people had simply begun disappearing off the compound at a terrifying rate during that time and even someone as lowly as she had begun to wonder how little it took to piss the brass off in those days. She'd even lessened her hours of day dreaming and speculating in order to appear busy just in case for some reason he came waltzing into the Payroll Department one day and actually spoke to her.
She didn't know what would happen if she were to get fired but honestly she didn't really want to find out. Even though she knew next to nothing, the fact that she knew anything at all would most likely ensure that she be monitored by agents, and the government in general, for the rest of her life. She wasn't stupid enough to think she'd be able to leave with just a nod towards the door, and the idea of being endlessly followed and having conversations tapped in on didn't enthuse her.
It wasn't like anyone would believe her if she decided to write some grand exposé on the place anyway; she was almost positive that the government would take whatever measures necessary to cover up any such thing from happening and most likely had in the past. There were books and articles written by various individuals that had alluded to the idea of secret organizations that worked hand in hand with the government but they were generally written off as conspiracy theories with no basis in fact. It was an interesting phenomenon and she had no doubts that the higher powers that controlled the media and the government had their hand in silencing and ridiculing the authors of these works until the general populace either forgot about them entirely or grouped them in the same category as UFO hunters. It was just that big of a secret and everyone privy to the truth was expected to keep it that way.
Even a nobody such as herself was a cut above the general population because she knew the Agency existed, even if she didn't know what exactly they did. But even though she didn't have both hands in the thick of it, she still had access to identities, social security numbers, bank accounts and a lot of other sensitive information. There was no doubt that if she were ever relieved of her position, she would be doomed to a life time of being shadowed.
And she didn't even want to think about what would happen if a field agent were to become useless.
Rebecca ran a hand through her unruly main of red curls and sighed heavily as she traced patterns on the glass with her index finger. Not for the first time did she wish that she had a position in a department with more interaction with the field agents. She wondered idly if there was a position open in Unit 16...
"Hey, have you checked the openings on the intranet lately?" she queried, looking over at Trisha.
The other woman made a face and started to respond but before she could, the door suddenly opened and a man walked in. He was tall, lanky, and wore a hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled far over his head so that it completely shadowed the upper half of his face. Rebecca exchanged looks with Trisha and sat up straight, attempting to appear alert and ready to work as the man approached them. He stood in front of the counter and rested one arm on top of it, tapping long fingers against the glass almost irritably. He didn't say anything at first and seemed to be studying the two of them from under his hood, as if he was debating whether or not he wanted to speak at all. It wasn't exactly surprising; most people who went to Payroll were there because somewhere, somehow, something with their paychecks had been screwed up and that typically left people fed up and angry. However, there was something about this man that made her slightly anxious; an aura of danger that seemed to hover around him that made her want to shrink behind the desk in fear.
"Can I help you?" she asked finally, finding her voice.
There was another brief moment of silence before he spoke. "I need you to give me my bank account number."
It was said as more of an order than a request and Rebecca looked over at Trisha, not knowing how to respond to the strange demand. "You need me to give you your bank account number?" she repeated stupidly.
"Yes," he snapped irritably. "All of my money goes directly to my bank account and I have no idea how to access my bank account, so you see the dilemma. Right?" This time, it was spoken more as a challenge, as if he was daring her to disagree.
"Right. Um." She shifted behind the desk and cleared her throat. "Well, you see, I guess I'm confused? How could you not know your own bank account information? Did you lose your card? I'm sure if you go to the bank--"
"I don't even know what bank it is," the man cut her off impatiently. "Just look it up. You can do that. Can't you?"
Rebecca hesitated again and looked over at Trisha for help. While she felt more than a little intimidated by the man, Trisha just seemed impatient and annoyed, just like she did with most people. "Well what have you been doing for money all of this time? How did you set up your bank account? I'm sorry but what you're saying just isn't making any sense to me," the other woman said with a healthy dose of condescending snottiness in her voice.
The man's full lips turned down into an annoyed scowl and he shifted impatiently. The movement caused the hood to fall back on his head enough to reveal the upper half of his face and Rebecca and Trisha both froze in shock. There was no mistaking that face and for the first time in her entire career at the Agency, Rebecca found herself face to face with the notorious 'Monster;' the man who ripped out people's throats with his teeth, killed people with his bare hands and was so infamously good at his job that despite his obvious mental issues, the higher-ups refused to lock him away permanently.
She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and scooted back slightly in her seat. For a moment she didn't know what to do and couldn't find her voice, not when those strangely colored eyes were narrowed at her in obvious anger.
"What's so goddamned hard to understand?" he growled at Trisha. "I don't have my bank account information because I didn't set it up. Fucking Carhart or whatever idiot did it and didn't bother telling me how to access it because at the time they figured I was too young to manage my own money, and when I got older I wasn't even allowed off the damn compound. Now that I am, I need money and you're being really irritating by not helping me access it. What the hell are you here for anyway?"
When Trisha didn't immediately respond, Rebecca nodded hurriedly. "Oh no, I understand perfectly now."
Those slanted jade colored eyes zeroed in on her again and it was all she could do not to squirm under the scrutiny. "Do you." His tone made it obvious that he doubted she understood anything, possibly even the English language and basic motor skills. He obviously thought she was an idiot and she could not blame him; she was certainly acting the part.
"Yes-- um, I just. Okay," she stammered and looked down at the computer monitor to bring up the appropriate screen. She had no idea what to do in such a situation; no one had ever come to her with such a strange request before. She doubted that she was supposed to do this but she'd never been told explicitly not to; she figured that was good enough. Besides-- they had apparently put him in the bizarre situation and she wasn't going to be the one he took his anger out on because of it. "I just need your social."
There was another brief silence and she looked up at him again to see that he had a rather exasperated expression. It wasn't obvious whether he was exasperated with her or the situation and when he rubbed a hand across his face, she couldn't help but note that she hadn't expected Sin, The Monster, to look so attractive and young up close. Other than the fact that he was an intimidating person in general, had she not been previously told of his many violent outbursts and mental problems, she probably would have thought he was incredibly sexy; the attitude and aura of danger most likely would have upped the attraction because really... who didn't have a weakness for bad boys?
But she was very aware of his past and even if he had saved the Inspector and helped with the small team who had worked to subdue the intruders, she couldn't trust that he wouldn't flip out at the drop of a dime. It almost left her too terrified to actually look him full in the face but she found that she couldn't help it. Her eyes followed his movements curiously, as if he was some kind of rare species of animal that a person only came across once in a lifetime.
"I don't know my social nor do I even know if I have one," he admitted finally.
Trisha, who was not as rude as before even if a trace of impatience still remained, spoke up before Rebecca had a chance to. "Of course you have one. You're an American citizen, aren't you?"
Sin stared at her strangely."I don't know. I'd never thought about it before."
The thoughtful, almost confused look on his face was so out of place with his reputation and attitude in general that Rebecca couldn't help but giggle. Trisha gave her a warning look, as if to say not to aggravate the crazy person, and Rebecca immediately clamped her mouth closed. But when she glanced up at Sin again, he just raised one eyebrow at her and the side of his mouth turned up in a slight smirk. She blushed bright red, dropping her eyes again and immediately began typing. "Maybe if you just give me your full name and date of birth..."
"I don't know my date of birth. Sometime in April of '91."
Rebecca looked up again and this time she frowned slightly. Now that was just kind of sad. Maybe that was why he was so crazy. The poor guy had never had a birthday party or probably even a birthday present or a 'happy birthday' in general! That couldn't be healthy. "Full name, then?" she asked slowly, wondering if this question was also off limits.
"Hsin Liu Vega," he replied automatically.
"Oh, okay, um--" Rebecca began typing, wondering idly at his racial background, and stared at the computer screen when it gave her an error message. "S-H-I-N? Is that right?"
"No." He stared at her, eyes slightly narrowed as if he were trying to understand why everyone always made that mistake.
Trisha butted in again, obviously impatient with him or perhaps just field agents in general. They always came in here with their big attitudes and egos, either trying to play the tough guy for the pathetic little civilian employees or acting like every female on the compound was going to swoon in their presence as if they were all action heroes. "Well then how do you spell it? This process would move along a lot faster if you were cooperative," she snapped.
Sin made a face. "H-S-I-N. L-I-U. And no, they are not one word or attached by a hyphen."
"Ohhhh," Rebecca said softly, typing it in correctly. "Is that why everyone calls you 'Sin'? Mispronunciation?"
"How should I know why everyone does what they do? Maybe they're all just imbeciles who never bothered to ask how to pronounce it and figured they should just call me whatever they want."
"Probably," Trisha muttered, eyes going back to her own computer. "But you could have helped by correcting them in the beginning."
"Oh well, there's no point in arguing about it now," Rebecca said cheerily. "Besides, maybe at this point he doesn't want them all to know his real name given how they treated him and al--err, sorry." She clamped up abruptly, sure that she was now out of line, and squinted at the screen studiously.
Sin's gaze turned a notch less hostile towards her as he raised a shoulder in a shrug. "Maybe."
Rebecca paused and glanced up, meeting his clear green eyes with an almost shy smile. How embarrassing, but she was ridiculously excited that he'd agreed with her about something so personal. She almost felt as though they'd bonded.
But Sin just arched one black eyebrow at her before staring pointedly at the computer. "Well?"
Rebecca looked up at him briefly and quickly averted her gaze, grabbing a pad of paper and scribbling the pertinent information down. He was probably the best looking guy she'd ever seen in her life and it was hard to not look at him, even though she doubted he wanted the extra attention.
After a moment of him burning a hole through her head with his steady stare and her making numerous spelling errors, she slid the paper across the table. "I included your social security number, turns out you're a citizen after all!" Rebecca said happily with a bright smile.
"Great." He didn't seem too enthused with this information.
"So you can just go down to the bank, give them that information and ask them to provide you with a debit card and whatever else you need. And if you need anymore hel--"
Sin was turning and walking out of the door before she could finish the sentence and Rebecca sat back in her chair with a sigh. So much for trying to draw things out...
"Could you kiss his ass any more?" Trisha asked disgustedly, after a moment.
Rebecca made a face and reluctantly went back to idly searching the Intranet after Sin was completely out of view through the glass doors. "You're just jealous."
Trisha scoffed. "Why? Because he didn't think I was a total moron? Yeah, gee, I sure missed that opportunity."
"No, because he didn't think I am an obnoxious bitch," Rebecca replied with a glare in her co-worker's direction. "And because me and him bonded."
"Uh huh."
"We did."
"Kay."
Rebecca huffed slightly before dropping the topic entirely and went back to daydreaming about a life where she was an undercover field agent and, knowing that it wouldn't happen, wished that more exciting things happened to her on the compound.
End
Look for more stories in this vein to pop up in the future!