Two days later, Soul found an unmarked white envelope in his mailbox. Inside was a single sheet of paper with a short paragraph of text:
Mr. Evans,
You have been recruited to join the special operative branch of the CIA. In order to attain the rank of trainee, you must first pass the initial round of testing and interviews. If you do, you will immediately be directed to the Shibusen training facility whereupon you will undergo an intense training program designed to prepare you to join the ranks of the agency. Information about trainee interviews can be found below.
Underneath was a date and location - a week subsequent, in Washington D.C.
Soul mulled over the contents of the letter for the rest of that day. From the wording, it sounded as though he would be expected to drop everything and join the program the second he passed their initial interview. That is, if he even passed in the first place.
So that left the decision: how committed was he?
Pretty damn committed, as it turned out. Days later, his apartment was no longer under his name, and nearly all his earthly possessions were packed up and in storage. He kept only a heavy canvas duffle bag filled with his best guess for what he might need in the next few months as he boarded a plane to D.C. Admittedly, it may have been a poor decision, putting every egg he had in one precariously woven basket. At least he had motivation to pass, he thought as he disembarked. He'd packed up his life for this - he better damn well make it.
A beat-up silver sedan waited near the taxi stand outside the airport; Soul would have walked past it were it not for the man leaning against the passenger door who nodded at him before he could pass. "Mr. Evans?"
Soul stopped in his tracks. "Yes?"
"If you'll come with me, I'll take you to your interview." He stepped forward, extending a hand to take Soul's duffel.
He handed it over, sneaking a second glance at his escort. He was extraordinarily average, and if someone asked Soul to describe him, even after just having met the man, Soul thought he would be pretty hard-pressed to do so. But, he reminded himself as he climbed into the passenger seat, that would kind of be the point, wouldn't it? The car too, only added to the illusion, but a selfish part of Soul wondered if they couldn't have sprung for something with slightly comfier seats.
The ride from the airport was quiet, if a little awkward. Soul's escort didn't seem keen on making any kind of conversation, and Soul wasn't exactly clamoring to do so either. Besides, what kind of questions would he even ask, anyway? What's it like being a spy? Aside from playing babysitter to recruits who haven't even become recruits yet?
So the silence remained, but thankfully the drive remained short. Traffic began to die out as they left D.C. and after about twenty minutes, the car rounded a bend in the road to reveal a small parking lot about half full. Two toll road-esque booth bordered each side, one for the entrance and one for the exit. Soul's escort pulled up and flashed a leather badge. The woman manning the booth nodded and waved them through.
The entrance road led to a second, much larger parking lot. A proud, white building covered in windows stretched out behind it. There was no sign or title to announce what the building was, but it didn't need it. The CIA headquarters looked much lighter and more open than Soul was expecting. A glass archway spanned the entrance, supported by blue marbled columns. But, he reminded himself, this was only for the entrance exams. Soul still had a ways to go before working here was a reality.
The driver pulled up to the front and parked. "They're expecting you," was all he said. "I'll take care of your things."
Soul nodded and exited the car. Part of him wanted to stop and just take stock of the moment, but he knew if he did that, he'd start questioning every decision he'd made that had led him here. No, better to keep moving forward, if only to keep the doubt at bay.
He pushed open one set of the double doors that led inside, revealing a large lobby bustling with people. A circular information desk sat right in the middle, manned by three sharply-dressed agents directing those who needed it and keeping an eye on the commotion surrounding them. Soul squared his shoulders and walked across the tile, his feet passing over the proud seal adorning the floor.
"Can I help you?" one of the agents asked, eyeing him up and down.
"Soul Evans; Stein's expecting me for an interview?" He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed over his license.
The agent nodded briskly as she took it, hitting a few keys on the keyboard in front of her and scanning the screen. She handed his ID back with a small smile. "Some will be with you shortly, if you'll just wait here in lobby."
Soul nodded as he pocketed his wallet. The agent quickly became preoccupied with her computer once more, so Soul wandered away fine the desk and took in the lobby once more.
One portion of the wall, tucked away near two of the pillars dotted throughout the lobby, caught his eye. Bronze stars adorned a memorial, framed by flags on either side. "To the fallen," read the title. A red leather-bound book sat atop a lectern, a gold braided bookmark lying across the page. Soul peered down at it, his chest seizing a little as he took in the pages.
Little black stars lined row after row, organized by year. Some had name listed below them, and some did not. Without consciously thinking of it, Soul found himself flipping pages until he reached the second-to-last one. The row labeled 2012 was sparse, only filled with five stars. Four were named, none of them recognizable. The very last remained nameless.
"Fine men and women, all of them." The quiet voice pulled Soul from his stupor. He turned to see Stein standing behind him, hands in the pockets of his coat, gaze fixed on the stars on the wall.
"Is my brother one of them?" Soul's voice was hoarser than he would have liked.
Stein ignored the question. "This life is not an easy one. Often it is one moment that can decide whether yours is the name in the book." He fixed Soul with an unwavering stare. "Are you ready?"
It was unclear what specifically he was talking about - the interview, or the endeavour in general. Regardless, Soul nodded.
"Then come with me." Stein turned and walked briskly away, leaving Soul with no choice but to follow.
What followed was a barrage of testing unlike anything Soul had undergone before. The very first was a written assessment in a claustrophobic classroom, surrounded by other hopefuls like him. A handful of stern-looking men in suits patrolled the rows, keeping a watchful eye on each and every test-taker. Their presence was hard to ignore, but the content in the booklet in front of him had everything fading out as Soul worked. Logic questions, math problems, reading comprehension - it was hard to tell what, exactly, they were testing him on. The only sound was the scratching of pencils, the steady thud of the agent's footsteps, and the occasional cough. Until -
One of the proctors came to a halt next to a desk. He leaned down, and though he kept his voice low, his words echoed through the room. "You've been caught cheating. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Soul's eyebrows shot up. Who the fuck tried to cheat on a CIA entrance exam? Or better yet, who the fuck thought they would be able to get away with it? Each and every one of them was being monitored like a hawk, and there likely was more than a few cameras watching. The cheater had to be either extraordinarily stupid, or extraordinarily arrogant.
After sneaking a look, Soul could definitively say it was the latter. What looked like a law-school dropout stood up, adjusted his ill-fitting suit, and walked out with his nose in the air. Soul wasn't sorry to see him go.
It did remind him, though, that should he pass the tests laid out before him, he would be spending an indeterminate amount of time with some of the others in the room. He carefully took another look around, keeping his eyes high and off the testing books.
If he had been hoping to draw any general conclusions about the crowd of people surrounding him, he was to be sorely disappointed. It was clear that Stein had gone out and recruited those from any and all corners of life. Older, younger, fit, lean, stocky, bookish, athletic - the only Soul could say for sure that most of them shared was a kind of hard determination in their expressions. It took a certain type to commit to this, Soul mused. Law-school douche excepted.
His gaze landed on a girl hunched over her testing booklet, scowling at the page below her. Dirty blonde haired tied into twin pigtails gently brushed the desk, and every so often she would push one back over her shoulder, only to have it swing back in front of her a few moments later. Her pencil skittered across the page in frantic movements, stopping only to tap against the paper as she thought, brows so bunched together it looked almost painful.
She looked so very young to be here at first glance, but smaller details leapt out the longer Soul looked at her, and he knew instantly he would not be surprised to find her making the trip to whatever training facility they were to be shipped off to, should they pass. Something in Soul's chest gave a funny leap as he realized that it was a very real possibility that he wouldn't be around to see if his prediction would come true.
A looming presence behind his other shoulder had Soul twisting in his seat to face a true giant of a man, who looked more than a little annoyed at being forced to play proctor. The agent leaned down and said quietly in Soul's ear, "Stein says forget the blonde and finish your test."
Without breaking eye contact with the man as he drew away, Soul gathered his booklet between two fingers and wordlessly held it up for him to take. When the proctor said nothing, Soul gave him a small smile. Grumbling, the agent took it, muttering something about cocky, ungrateful wanna-be agents.
Soul scanned the seams of the walls and ceiling of the classroom, quickly finding the camera Stein had no doubt spotted his wandering eyes through. He tossed off a small salute, then looked back over his shoulder at the girl with the pigtails once more. Only this time, she was watching him back.
He froze. She raised an eyebrow at him, and though she couldn't say anything, the exasperated, amused look on her face was plain as day: And just what do you think you're doing?
Soul slunk around until he faced forward once more, his shoulders keeping his ears company as they burned bright red. Way to keep your cool, jackass, he thought. That's really what they look for at CIA, now, abject embarrassment when a girl looks at you.
Stein was probably laughing his ass off. If Stein was the guy who did things like laugh his ass off.
After the rest of the class had finished the test, they were ushered into a waiting room surrounded by several sets of doors through which applicants were ushered one by one. Some emerged looking no more ruffled than they had going in, but some came out sporting rattled expressions and nervous tics. When Soul managed to catch a glimpse behind one of the ever-mysterious doors, he only saw a stainless steel table with two identical chairs, one of which held a plain man in a dark suit.
"Psych evals, probably." Soul turned to see a willowy woman with long brown hair settle herself next to the coffee pot, arms crossed. "Make sure we're sane before they really start to turn the screws."
"Lovely," Soul said dryly, taking a paper cup for coffee, if only to give him something to do. Caffeine before a psych test was probably a bad idea, but then again, it couldn't be worse than the ones that had got him to where he was, could it?
"I'm Liz," the woman said, inclining her head in greeting.
"Soul."
"So, Soul…" She leaned a little closer, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Ready for piercing insights into your personality and psyche?"
He lifted an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee. "Are you?"
She smiled and huffed a laugh. "Fair enough."
"Evans?" A woman in a sharp suit and a tight bun called his name from one of the doors.
"I guess we'll see," Soul said to no one in particular, tossing his cup.
"Good luck," Liz called after him.
Soul had never undergone a psych evaluation and was left uncertain of what to expect. When he left the room thirty minutes later, he remained as unsure as when he entered. The woman testing him had asked all manner of questions, some piercing, some insulting, and some rather patronizing. He was still disoriented as to how her line of questioning even connected, or how it was meant to assess him in any way. Not knowing whether he'd passed or not was both a blessing and a curse as the testing dragged on, never letting him feel comfortable with his standing at any time.
Physical exams were next, and after the grueling work of the written and psychological testing, sitting through a glorified doctor's appointment was a breeze. However, Soul still had no idea where he stood afterward, as the physician had only asked routine questions and jotted down about three pages worth of notes without saying anything more than he had to.
At the end of the day, Soul could only feel a vague sort of resignation that whatever his fate, it was out of his hands now.
All the applicants ended up in another waiting room, this one near identical to the one before. Previously, there'd been a faint current of chatter as each waited their turn for testing, but now there was only a silence that seemed infinitely louder as each waited anxiously for the news of who would be whisked away for training, and who would be sent home with their tails between their legs.
A large corkboard dominated one wall, and it was here that a crowd of more nervous applicants waited for the results. Soul simply took a seat in a chair on the other side of the room.
"You'd think, being the CIA, they'd be a little more high-tech than a paper list on a bulletin board." A guy with long dreadlocks tied back in a low ponytail took the seat next to him as he watched the restless group.
"Who knows, maybe it's another test," Soul said wryly. "See how you react to being chosen. Or not."
"Wouldn't be surprised. What do you think the right answer to that is?"
Soul shrugged. "Hell if I know."
The guy smiled. "Yean, me neither." He extended a hand to shake. "I'm Kilik."
"Soul." They shook hands.
"So, how did you end up here?"
"Recruiter had me decrypt redacted files in the middle of my shift at a knock-off Geek Squad desk."
Kilik snorted. "Bullshit."
Soul cracked a smile. "I'm serious. Had me thinking I was about to be arrested for treason 'til he showed up again the next day."
"But you still hacked the files."
"Guy hands you a folder of government files and says 'Whatever you do, don't read this,' and you don't sneak a peek?"
Kilik shook his head, but kept smiling. "You're crazy, man, is what you are, but I respect it."
"What about you?"
"Not something as dramatic as that. Guy shows up at my boxing ring, says he's got an offer for me. Might have to take back that comment on you being crazy, 'cos I went for it too."
Before Soul could ask anything else, the door to the waiting room opened, revealing yet another nameless agent. She carried a blue folder under her arm, attracting the stares of every applicant in the room. "Here we go," Kilik muttered, shifting his weight in his seat.
It was like watching a shark clear its way through a school of fish. Applicants parted around the agent, giving her a respectful berth while simultaneously trying to get the best view of the bulletin board. Low chatter started up as she pulled a single sheet of paper from the file and tacked it on the board, and though several jostled and craned their necks to glimpse the names printed in neat little lines on the page, no one dared press too close to the agent who'd posted it. Once she cleared the crowd, however, the horde descended.
"You're not gonna brave it?" Kilik asked, nudging him a little.
Soul shrugged. "Names aren't gonna change depending on when I read it. Figure it's not worth getting a misplaced elbow to the face."
"That's fair."
"What about you?"
He smiled a little sheepishly. "To be totally honest? I'm a little scared."
Soul gave him a rueful smile back. "Yeah, that too."
There were no cheers or groans from the crowd up front, but it quickly become clear who had made it and who had not. Some, however, looked just as neutral as they had before glimpsing the list, and it was those few that Soul knew he would have to watch out for.
As the group thinned, Killik stood up. "Now or never, right?" He made his way to the board without waiting for Soul.
His feet felt like lead dragging across the carpeted floor, his stomach free-falling lower and lower as the text on the page began to grow legible. He came to a stop right beside Kilik, heart thudding against his ribcage as he sought out the surnames near the top of the list.
If he didn't make it, he had nothing to go back to.
He had to make it.
It was almost embarrassing, how long it took for him to take the letters and put them together, to read the name printed there.
Evans, Soul.
The breath left his body in one swift movement, leaving his dizzy and slightly-punch drunk. When he turned to look at Kilk, he found he wasn't the only one.
"Well, Soul, looks like this is only the beginning."
And though he knew the road ahead was going to be longer and infinitely more arduous then what he'd done today, he couldn't keep the satisfied smile off his face.
One step closer.
Those few dozen applicants who could now officially claim the title of recruit were quickly ushered from the waiting room and down a twisting series of halls until they reached the far side of the building, where a nondescript bus idled next to the curb. A haggard-looking driver slowly piled luggage into the compartment underneath as those lucky few - or unlucky, Soul mused, depending on how you thought about it - piled inside. Soul took a window seat near the middle, pulling out his scratched, chunky iPod and untangling the earbuds. He'd just popped them in when Kilik approached up the aisle, catching his eye and tilting his head in a silent question. Soul nodded, but scrolled through his music in a show of finding something to listen to as Kilik settled into the seat next to him. In reality, the music remained silent as Soul listened in on those around them as the bus finally groaned to life underneath them and left the CIA headquarters in its rearview.
Soul kept his head turned toward the window, looking to anyone else like he was simply enjoying both his music and the scenery. His iPod stayed propped in his hand, catching the reflection of the few rows behind him and its occupants. While he couldn't see very much or very far, any information he could get before they set foot on the training facility might come in handy.
None of it seemed very vital, as most rattled off inane details or kept their histories close to their chests. They were, after all, about to compete against each other - at least, Soul assumed. CIA training didn't seem like an exercise entirely conducive to team-building. Regardless, no one was exactly spilling their inner secrets to their neighbors, or even talking much about themselves at all.
Well, except for one.
He was hard to miss, with both the sky-blue hair carefully styled into a spiky mess, and the booming voice that sounded like it should have emerged from a man twice as large. Words poured from his mouth in an endless torrent, drowning those around him - whether they were making an attempt to listen or not. His stories seemed centered on his accomplishment of various feats of skill and strength, though most sounded more improbable than probable. No one appeared to mind much, either only paying half attention, or listening out of amusement more than anything.
One recruit, however, was taking his likely fabrications a little too personally. He squinted angrily behind coke-bottle glasses and raised his adenoidal voice in protest. "It's impossible to summit Kilimanjaro that quickly."
If the protest bothered the boasting recruit, he didn't let it show. He only smirked and crossed his arms over his stocky chest. "Just 'cause you'd rather spend your days behind a computer…"
The bespectacled recruit flinched, confirming everyone's silent assumption of how exactly he'd come to land a seat on the bus. Regardless of the stares they were garnering, he pressed on. "No, I'm saying no one can do that. The fastest anyone's ever been able to do that is…"
Soul tuned out the nasally lecture, turning his attention instead to the other recruits around him. He tilted his phone slightly, and the image of the smug, blue-haired recruit was wiped away and replaced with the woman sitting next to him - the pigtailed blonde from the exam.
Surprisingly, she didn't look nearly as annoyed at the recruit by her side as Soul would have expected. If anything, she looked on with amused exasperation, as if she were rather used to the behavior. Soul studied her closely, watching every little interaction between the two. It wasn't obvious, and others certainly would have overlooked it, but the two of them knew each other, and not as passing acquaintances. He filed that interesting tidbit away for later.
Soul shifted the phone again to get a better angle, but forgot about the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He caught a sunbeam with his screen and managed to land in the blue-haired recruit's face. Squinting, he lifted a hand up to shield his eyes, squinting as he searched for the source. His eyes narrowed further as he caught sight of Soul's phone.
"Hey, goth with the music!" he called, his bellowing voice drowning out every other conversation. All gazes fell on the two of them. Soul shrank down a little in his seat. So much for laying low.
But before Soul could say or do anything, another chimed in. "Goth? That's a prep if I ever saw one."
Heads swiveled to find the owner of the voice. A petite girl with pastel pink hair lounged prettily in the seat one row up on the other side of the aisle. She eyed him knowingly.
The guy scoffed. "Yeah, right."
The girl rolled her eyes. "I've been scamming his kind," - she jerked her chin at Soul- "long enough to recognize a prep school boy when I see one." She leaned forward, wrapping one delicately manicured hand around the back of her seat. "So what are you doing here, rich boy? Get bored and decide to play spy?"
Soul's jaw twitched. "You got me pegged." He feigned a casual shrug.
"Well, do us all a favor and don't overstay your welcome." She settled back into a casual lounge, inspecting her nails for show. "Some of us worked hard to get here."
Soul lifted an incredulous eyebrow. "Yeah, I can see that. Those hands can't have seen more than a day lifting Louis Vuitton luggage."
She shot him a hard glare, one he happily returned. Those around them, sensing the interesting part of the conversation was over, slowly turned back to their own. The pink-haired girl broke his gaze, snorting in dismissal as she turned away. Kilik shook his head, murmuring under his breath, but Soul didn't miss the evaluating glance he gave him.
As lively chatter filled the bus once more, only one recruit kept staring at Soul. The blonde in pigtails fixed him with an unwavering stare, bright green eyes pinning him in his seat. And though they'd never spoken, though he didn't even know her name, Soul felt utterly exposed under her once-over. When she finally turned away, he sucked in a deep breath and turned back to the window, unsure of why he suddenly felt so off-balance.
About an hour later, it became clear they were approaching their final destination. Interstates shifted into highways shifted into winding back roads, leading them deeper and deeper into the Virginia countryside. The bus crested one last rolling hill, revealing a massive complex of buildings that looked entirely out of place nestled in a modest river valley. The conversations around Soul died quickly as everyone craned their necks and gawked at their new - potentially temporary - home.
The low, sprawling compound spread out across the valley, spreading its various wings and buildings wide. Dark windows spotted the sides, though it was hard to see what might be behind them. Heavy forests bordered the back and sides, giving the compound another layer of shelter. Soul didn't know what he'd expected of the facility they would spend their foreseeable future, but it did not disappoint.
The bus pulled up near the front entrance, the engine shuddering in relief as the driver shut off the ignition. One by one they piled out, stretching out cramped limbs. A few made to gather their luggage, but the driver waved them off. "Your things will be brought to your rooms; just follow Nygus to orientation." He pointed to a slender black woman waiting by the front doors, though Soul could have sworn she hadn't been there a moment before.
Nygus ran her gaze across the group, then nodded sharply and turned on her heel, leaving them to follow her and her swinging braids inside.
Narrow, white-paneled hallways snaked throughout the interior of the facility, leaving Soul hopelessly confused as they turned left, right, right, then left again. He knew it was only the unfamiliarity of the surroundings that left him so unsettled, but part of him wondered if they did it a little bit on purpose, just to remind everyone why they were there.
Finally, Nygus stopped in front of a set of plain double doors and turned to face them. "Orientation will be through here," she said. "Afterwards, you'll be shown to the mess hall for dinner, then to your rooms. Training begins tomorrow at 0600 in the gym. Don't be late." After surveying them all with a sharp eye for a moment, she cracked a small smile. "And welcome."
She pushed open the doors, revealing a large lecture hall filled with desks. A raised dais with a wooden table on it stood at the front of the room just in front of a large wall of screens displaying a generic screensaver. Solid counters lined the walls on either side; underneath were plain wooden cabinets, all closed.
For the main room in a spy facility, it looked an awful lot like the room Soul had taken chemistry lab in.
Two men stood on the platform, one leaning casually against the table, the other standing straight beside him. Soul recognized Stein instantly, and felt a sudden rush of relief. He'd known he was in the right place, that his doubt was foundless and unnecessary, but seeing Stein again erased the last shred of lingering doubt. This was it. He'd made it.
The other man held himself much more casually than Stein did, but there was a glint in his eye that suggested one would be better off not challenging that. Deep, vivid red hair fell to his shoulders, and color so vibrant Soul had a hard time figuring out if it came from a box or not. He wore a fitted charcoal gray suit, but the shirt collar was mussed and his tie hung a little loose around his neck. Overall, not someone Soul was anticipating to lead this little summer camp, but he knew better than to judge.
The desks slowly filled as they filed in. Soul picked one off to the side, far enough away to not immediately be noticeable, but still retained a clear view of the room. Despite the crowd, Stein still managed to catch his eye. Soul only raised an eyebrow: well, here I am.
It hadn't been particularly loud as everyone took their seats, but it managed to grow quieter still as the red-haired man took in the recruits before him. He opened his mouth to begin speaking, then froze. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he snapped his mouth shut, his gaze fixed on one spot in the classroom. Soul peered around a few recruits in his row to try and find what the hell had struck him so suddenly. For some reason, he was utterly unsurprised to see the pigtailed recruit sitting calmly under his stare. She only lifted her chin subtly, as if to say: your move.
Regardless of what she'd meant, the instructor quickly composed himself, tugging on one of his sleeves as though only readjusting his suit. All in all, there's probably been no more than a few seconds of silence. When he spoke, it was as though nothing had happened.
"Welcome, everyone, to Shibusen."
The muscles in Soul's chest tightened. This, then, was what that anonymous post on the forum had been talking about. He tried to ignore the phrase that floated through his mind once more: Shibusen lies.
"This is the facility where you'll be spending the next few months as a part of our training program." The man gestured to himself and Stein. "My name is Spirit, and this is Stein. We're the directors of the program, and will be overseeing your training. Our instructors will observe each of your courses and inform us of your progress." He gave them a shark's smile, full of too much teeth and warning to ever be considering friendly. "And we decide if you have what it takes to stay."
A chill crawled down Soul's spine. He'd known this, but it hadn't quite sunken in until now - what he'd done had only been the first step in a marathon. The path remaining still stretched out past the horizon.
"Now, you may be wondering what it is you've gotten yourself into, and what it is we'll ask of you day in and day out. Our goal is to impart on you the skills you'll need to succeed as an intelligence operative - persuasion, concealment, extraction. Throughout your time here, you'll be tested on each and every one of these skills. Some you'll see coming, and some you won't even know you've undergone. This will be the most difficult undertaking you've ever experienced. There are those in this room who will wash out." Spirit paused, his gaze both critical and curious, as though wondering who among them might be standing at the end. Soul's posture straightened of its own accord, as though he were trying to show that he would be among those remaining.
"But those of you who flourish, who make it through the program and come out the other side, will join the ranks of Shibusen operatives within the CIA. Your success here determines your placement out there. For the best of you, the ones who show the most promise…" Spirit trailed off, eyes glinting as he savored their rapt attention.
"The best among you have the chance to be assigned a non-official cover. Disavowed before you even leave the agency for the first time. To the outside world, you become invisible. A ghost to slip in and out where others never dare to tread, to steal the secrets every intelligence agency in the world aches to possess. But if you're caught…" Spirit's face turned grave, sucking all the air from the room with one small phrase. "Well, don't get caught."
He let the silence linger a little longer before speaking up again. "Keep in mind, our NOC program is limited. Only a few of you will get that chance."
Spirit continued speaking, but Soul didn't hear a word of it. The only thing running through his mind was the acronym - NOC. Wes's name had been on a list titled that exact thing; it must have been the program Wes had joined. Soul tried to catch Stein's gaze for any kind of confirmation, but the man was scanning the room, studiously avoiding Soul with every sweep.
Well, that wasn't entirely surprising. It's not like Soul was really expecting him to wink or nod or add on, "Yes, and the brother of one of you joined our very ranks." Still, Soul was determined to confront Stein about it, and resolved to get his answers as soon as he could.
"So for the next several weeks, keep your guard up and take in everything you can," Spirit said with finality. "You never know when you'll need it." He gave a little half-smile, gaze sweeping across the room. "Any questions?"
If anyone did, no one wanted to break the mesmerizing spell Spirit had cast over the room. Also, Soul was pretty sure no one wanted to be the person who asked a stupid question during CIA training orientation.
Spirit clapped his hands once, and the stillness that had settled over the room dispersed all at once. "Then get yourselves to the mess hall for dinner. I'd suggest getting a good night's sleep tonight, because you're gonna need it." The smile he gave them was not at all encouraging.
The room erupted into a low roar of chatter, but Soul wasn't inclined to join in. He kept his eyes front, watching Stein as he talked in low tones with Spirit. It probably wasn't a good idea to try and accost Stein while on the dais, so he decided he'd try and catch Stein on his way out, ignoring the fact that he would still technically be accosting him. He'd been scanning the room throughout Spirit's speech, and by his assessment, there was only the one way out. Stein wouldn't be able to avoid him, and even if he refused to give Soul a straight answer (which, to be honest, Soul was expecting anyway), there was at least the possibility that he might give something away.
Okay, yeah, it was a long shot, but Soul would take what he could get.
So Soul ducked out of the lecture hall with the rest of the recruits, but hung around the entrance as he waited for Stein. The stream of recruits exiting began to trickle down, then stopped altogether, but Stein still didn't make an appearance.
Was he still talking with Spirit? Soul leaned in closer to the doors and caught two voices inside, and while one did indeed belong to the other instructor, the second was a woman's, and based on the context of their conversation, it belonged to the pigtailed recruit Soul had noticed so many times before - the one whose appearance had thrown Spirit off so completely.
"What are you doing here?" Spirit hissed. If Soul had been on the receiving end of that voice, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep from wincing at the tone.
The recruit, however, was unfazed. "Really? I thought that would be obvious."
"I expressly forbade you from applying."
"I didn't. I was recruited."
"Recruited? But I-" Spirit cut himself off with a small shriek of indignation. "Stein. He recruited you?"
Soul could practically hear the answering shrug. "You told him to find the best. He did."
Spirit's voice went quiet, and Soul had to strain forward to catch his next words. "You know why I asked you not to."
"And?"
"Maka-"
The recruit - Maka, apparently - snorted. "No, you don't get to do that. You don't want me here, fine. But it's not up to you anymore. You can't throw me out without a damn good reason, and you know you aren't going to find one."
"...I'm only doing my best."
There was a long pause, then Maka sighed. "I know you think that. But I'm here now, and you're gonna have to find a way to deal with it."
Spirit grumbled something under his breath, and though Soul had pressed himself right up against the door, he couldn't catch it. A moment later, the door vanished underneath him, and it was a small miracle Soul didn't go toppling after it. When he regained his balance, he found Maka standing in front of him. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she recovered quickly. "You got everything you needed?"
Soul spluttered. "No, I wasn't - I didn't - I was just trying to catch Stein."
Maka raised an eyebrow and turned to the side to peer back into the classroom in an exaggerated fashion. "Unless he's hiding in a supply closet, you missed him."
How the hell… you know what, it didn't matter a much as getting the hell out of this fucking uncomfortable situation. "Yep, my bad, I'm just gonna… go." Soul pivoted on his heel and began walking quickly down the hallway.
"Mess hall's this way," Maka called after him, jerking a thumb behind her shoulder.
"Of course," Soul grumbled, suddenly too tired and irritated to censor himself. "Can't hang signs up or anything because it's probably a goddamn test and I'm gonna wash out for failing navigation or some other bullshit."
He might have imagined it, but he thought Maka's lips might have twitched. "Well, guess you'd better figure it out soon." She disappeared around the corner, but when Soul hurried after her, hoping to follow, she was nowhere to be seen.
"Is everyone around here a goddamn ghost?" he wondered aloud.
Well, if they were, he'd have to catch up, and fast.
