Author: Midnight
Title: Marshall Flinkman 007
Summary: Marshall's never considered himself to be the 'secret agent' type, even if he did work for SD-6. Things change however as a sudden trip to London shows everyone, including himself that he has more promise than even the deadliest of agents. Will he give up his life as an 'Op Tech guy' to become a field agent? Or will he remain as he always was? Double-agents, assassinations, elegant parties, beautiful women, The Truth, and more, are all that await him.
Rating: PG. . .for now.
Author's Note: Things will begin to pick up now. Reviews are very welcome.
E-mail me at: varzideh@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All Alias characters and related material does not belong to me, but to J.J Abrams.
~~~~~
Everything seemed fuzzy as Marshall began to regain consciousness. He didn't seem to be on hard ground anymore, but on what appeared to be a burgundy, velvet couch, which was adorned with tiny, golden fleur-de-lis.
Feeling the back of his head, he was relieved to find that didn't seem to have had a bad fall. Why is it that he had to faint? His mom had always warned him not to get over excited, which is probably why she never really let him date much when he was growing up...In her mind, rampaging hormones was a major risk factor to her son's health.
Of course, more importantly, Marshall wondered how he'd gotten into the house (if you could call it that), as he was pretty sure he had collapsed just outside.
"Eric and I carried you inside" said a surprisingly pleasant voice from behind.
Sitting upright, Marshall bit back a laugh. The guy looked every bit like the butler from 'Ask Jeeves'.
"Uh...not to be rude or anything as I know it's not really my place to be rude, even if I'm apparently staying here, which I don't understand at all but-but I'm sure you know why I'm staying here..." he continued on and on, before 'Jeeves' cleared his throat loudly. Thankfully it was enough for Marshall to remember what he was going to ask. "So yeah...who's Eric?" he asked as he looked around.
"You're driver" 'Jeeves' responded as he came forward with a silver tray in his hands; on it lay a damp, white, wash cloth. Marshall took it gratefully, although he still didn't understand what he doing there.
An Op Tech specialist like himself was lucky if he found a decent apartment to live in. This was just beyond the realm of possibility. Why would Mr. McNeilly...or anyone for that matter, spend so much money on one guy? Despite Marshall's almost superhuman IQ, he as unable to come up with an answer.
"As for me sir" the butler responded, a British accent evident in his voice "My name is Williams. I've been informed that you are to now take up permanent residence here at Sterling Manor. If you'll allow me, and if you're feeling up to it, I'll be happy to give a tour of the estate that you ca-"
"Woah...hold on!" Marshall exclaimed loudly, putting out his hands in order to stop Williams from going on any further. Using the wash cloth that was still in his hand, he wiped the back of his neck. "P-Permanent?! I'm not going to be here long! I'm here temporarily! Temporarily as in...not permanent!" he cried. "My mom's going to kill me! And uncle Dan! What's he going to say when he finds out I won't be coming back with the case of ale he wanted! And Aunt Marge! She'll go into hysterics! Of course, rumour has it that she doesn't really like me after her dog Pugsy ate one of my dermal pigment capsules...but I told her not to let the dog in. So you see, I just can't stay here!" he finally finished saying.
He hurried over to the nearest door and quickly opened it, not even looking where he was going. Just his luck, he seemed to have walked into a linen closet, and with a faint click, the door behind him closed, leaving him in total darkness.
Williams had listened quietly to everything Marshall had said, not bothering to try and get in a few remarks. The boss would answer his questions, as it wasn't a butlers place to do so.
Of course, hearing a muffled Marshall asking politely if he could open the door, he strode over and opened the door, looking at the obviously distraught American with a questioning look.
"Perhaps I am mistaken" he said, although he doubted it. "Indeed, in any case, it would be wise for you to know you're way around the estate...no matter how long you plan to stay."
And with that, Marshall followed the butler around the estate, showing him everything including several of the guest bedrooms (which Marshall calculated to be 100 square feet bigger than his entire apartment), the tennis court, the gardens, the kitchens, the swimming pool, movie room, and garage (which housed several sports cars from various brands).
It actually took a little over and hour to go over the entire estate, and luckily one time was all it took for Marshall to remember where everything was situated.
As he followed Williams up a flight of stairs, he was led to the last door on the right. Opening it, Marshall was surprised to find a master bedroom, which could have passed for it's own large apartment.
"This is the master bedroom" Williams said behind him. "As you can see, you're belongings have been brought up. I'll leave you to your own then. If you need to reach me, just press '4' on the speed dial. Good evening sir."
It didn't take Marshall long to notice that there was a white envelope addressed to him propped up on the night-stand.
The planner is for your use only.
It was a rather cryptic message, but Marshall got the hint. Picking up the black leather planner, which had been beside the envelope, he opened it up and flipped through it. It seemed to be completely blank until he noticed that something was written under today's date.
Tailor- 7pm
It was already after four in the afternoon, and Marshall had no doubt that he was either supposed to go somewhere, or someone was going to meet him.
'Tailor...is that like a code name for someone?' he thought to himself as he lay down on his new bed.
He spent the next few hours trying to figure out what was going on, even going to his dresser and looking over the pictures that he had received in the car.
Suddenly the telephone rang with a sharp shrill, causing Marshall to jump in response.
Grabbing the phone, he answered. "H-Hello?" he said cautiously.
"I'll be arriving in ten minutes" a voice said in a neutral tone.
Recognizing the voice as the driver's, Marshall's tension died down somewhat. "Listen, about this afternoon. I heard that you helped take me inside. I really appreciate it. I mean, I know that I haven't really been keeping up with going to the gym lately, so I'm glad that y-you were able to-" he stopped suddenly as he heard the click of the phone on the other end. Eric had hung up.
"Thanks..." he said to no one in particular as he put the phone down and went to comb his hair.
Apparently Eric seemed to have arrived in a hurry, as it had only been a minute since he had called, and yet Williams knocked on the door to let him know that his car had arrived.
Not being able to change clothes, Marshall grudgingly made his way downstairs and out the door (which William's held open for him). Everything seemed so surreal; he had a butler calling him 'sir', the limousine was considered 'his' car, the room he had was considered 'his' room...the list went on and on.
As Marshall said thanks to Williams, he walked out the door and down to the car, where Eric stood holding the car door open.
Not forgetting the rude hang up that he'd gotten from his driver, Marshall resisted the urge to say thank you, and got into the car without a word.
He didn't even bother asking him where they were going, and figured he'd best enjoy the ride.
The ride however, didn't last long as they were soon back in the heart of London. They seemed to have stopped in front of a men's boutique.
Not noticing the sign outside the door, Marshall went in, unaware of what he was supposed to do. That didn't last long, as he saw a man in dark gray suit come up to him. A pleasant smile was on his face, which made Marshall feel slightly better.
"Ah Monsieur Benning! We 'ave been expecting you!" the man said with a heavy French accent.
"Really? I've been expected? That very g-good...I guess" Marshall said as he was pushed towards the center of the boutique.
A small, balding man with a tape measurer around his neck stood waiting by a long row of mirrors.
"You 'ave ordered the most exquisite suits. 'ere...let us get you started."
Before he knew what was happening, Marshall had put on 7 different suits...some casual, and some that he would have called 'super swank'.
He had to admit, he did look quite good in them, but he wasn't exactly sure what all this was for. By now he had figured out that 'Tailor' really had meant going to go get suits tailored, but why? He had never heard of any type of company having such a dress code.
An hour and a half, and ten suits later, Marshall was finally done. Apparently, someone had already chosen the suits out for him before he had even got there, and all he had to do was get them fitted. It wasn't exactly a bad thing, as whoever had chosen the suits had immaculate taste.
"The suits will be ready by tomorrow morning as you 'ave requested, monsieur" the man said happily, no doubt already knowing how much money he had just made on this transaction.
"Uh...thank you Anselm" Marshall said politely, as the man had told him his name. "Just a quick question though...how much is all this costing me?" he said cautiously, not knowing indeed how he was supposed to pay for all of this. Heck, he hadn't even been in London for 24 hours.
"Mais monsieur! Vous avez oublié! Your secretaire called and took care of everything" he said with his eyes shining.
"Ah...yes...my secretary..." Marshall answered unsurely, having no idea that he even had a secretary. "So...it's been a busy few days for me, and I-I seem to have forgotten...what type of-of suits are these?" Marshall asked, feeling rather stupid.
"Monsieur Benning!" Anslem said admonishingly. "You must take a few days off work, non? To clear thee head." Clucking his tongue, and shaking his head he continued "after all, if you can forget ordering ten of our finest Armani suits, then you must be very very busy."
Marshall stood ramrod still. 'Armani? Armani?!!!' While he wasn't exactly the flashiest dresser in the world, he did know that Armani suits didn't cost cheap. Heck the last Armani suit he wore was the tuxedo he had worn on his 'mission' with Sydney. And even then, he had had to return it to SD-6.
He seemed to have gone into a state of shock, which soon went away as Anslem presented Marshall with a glass of wine. Not being a drinker really, Marshall had no taste for it, but downed it anyways.
He held his breath as he walked out of the boutique and back into the car.
The rest of the night passed by in a blur as soon he was back in his bedroom, and after taking a quick shower, climbed into bed and soon fell asleep.
In what felt like only a few hours, Marshall's phone rang next to him. Picking it up, he grumbled a 'hello', only to get a cheerful 'good morning' from Williams who advised Marshall that his transportation would be arriving in an hour or so to take him to work.
Getting up, he trudged around to the bathroom, noticing that a suit bag was hanging from his dresser chair. 'Williams must have brought in it early this morning' he thought to himself as he noticed that it was nine o'clock in the morning. Jet lag was still an issue for now.
It took Marshall a half hour to get ready, as he took the opportunity to shave before going into work. He wanted to look as impressive as possible, although he wasn't really sure how to do that.
Putting on his new suit, he looked at himself in the mirror. Surprisingly, Marshall looked very dashing in his suit of dark blue. His light blue shirt was tie-less but he still felt as if he was dressed to attend a gala, rather than work.
Going downstairs, he smelled what could only be described as the best smell he had ever come across.
Making his way to the breakfast, he had to stop himself from drooling. French pastries, crumpets, danishes, bagels...everything that one could possible have for breakfast was on the table.
Marshall then realized that he had indeed, not eaten anything since the flight to London. It didn't take him long however, to finish off five cheese danishes, two blueberry scones, and two cups of coffee.
Soon Williams arrived to announce the arrival of his transportation.
This time however, it was not a limousine, but a black town car. Either Eric wasn't a morning person, or he just didn't take a liking to Marshall, as he didn't get out of the drivers seat to help him in. Frankly though, Marshall didn't mind one bit.
The ride lasted only about fifteen minutes as they pulled up to the building that Marshall had seen in the pictures. The sign outside the rather large building read 'Credit Dauphine', which honestly, didn't really surprise Marshall.
The car passed into the lower level garage, and then Eric turned around and spoke. "Take this card with you. You'll need it to access the A-1 level."
Marshall was accustomed to this, as the process reminded him exactly of getting to his office at SD-6.
Getting out of the car, with only a key card in his hand, he made his way to the parking lot elevator. Getting in, he put his card into the slot, which lit up various buttons ranging from A-1 to A-6. Pushing A-1, he waited as the elevator took him down several floors.
He entered a white room and standing in the middle of it, a flash of blinding, red light filled the room. Then the doors opened...
If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that he was back at SD-6. Everything seemed to be set up the same way, from the amount of computers in the main area, to the types of chairs everyone appeared to be sitting in.
No one looked at him as he made his past several stations, but he didn't get far as he heard someone from behind.
"Ah, Marshall. I'm happy you've decided to join us" Mr. McNeilly said with a smile. His expression seemed so different than it had when Marshall had seen him in Sloane's office. Here was a guy that looked warm and friendly, which was not exactly how Sloane looked...on any occasion.
"Hello Mr. McNeilly..." Marshall answered politely, his eyes darting around and looking at everyone surrounding him.
"I trust you liked the suits provided for you. I assumed that it would be a nice way for you to start your work here."
"Yes I-I liked them very much, as you can see" he said, motioning to the suit that on him "although what exactly am I supposed to be working on?" he asked.
The smile on McNeilly's face nearly faded, but he recovered before Marshall could notice. "Patience...patience Marshall. For now, you're set up at the office at the end of the hall and to the left. Your name is on the door already. Feel free to have a look around if you wish. I'll come by later on to speak with you."
And with that, McNeilly left Marshall standing there, in the middle of a room full of strangers, with whom Marshall would now have to work with. Not being a naturally social person, he felt as if it was his first day at a new school.
With a determined sigh, he made his way down the hall and to right, only then realizing as he came to a dead end, that he had gone the wrong way. It seemed as if he hadn't heard a word that McNeilly had said.
Turning around, he looked for someone that looked to be somewhat 'friendly'. Walking back down the hall, he saw a girl at the water cooler, idly sipping her cup of water. She didn't notice Marshall until he came up to her and said hi.
"Hi" she said without emotion, not seeming half as friendly as Marshall thought she would be.
"I-I...I'm having trouble finding my off-" before he could finish, the girl (who he realized was the one in the photographs he had) walked away from him. This made Marshall more self-conscience than before, as he was left standing talking to no one.
"Well are you coming or not?" the girl said as she turned around to look at Marshall. Apparently she had been heading towards his office...without really telling him.
Running to catch up with her, he followed her until they arrived at a door, which said 'Marshall Flinkman'. Strangely, it did not say his position as it did on all the other doors.
Opening the door, she motioned for him to go in. "Here you are. I trust you'll remember how to get here next time" she said without a smile. As she turned to walk off however, she stopped and appeared to stand motionless for a second or two, before turning around and heading back towards Marshall.
He really didn't know what was going on in that pretty little head of hers (he had indeed noticed that she was sort of pretty. No one could really compare to Miss Bristow however), but he was rather surprised when she walked up to him and held out her hand. "Agent Fenyvesi."
"Marshall..." he said in return, sticking out his hand and shaking hers.
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked off, leaving a very confused Marshall behind.
For the next four hours, Marshall spent his time looking through all the gadgets and computer systems that were in his office. He had to admit though, that he liked this office much better than the one in Los Angeles, as he had at least twice as much space now, as he did then.
Everything seemed identical to the objects at SD-6. So far he had seen no problems with their servers, or any security risks whatsoever. So he assumed that he was there for his 'gadget skills'.
Suddenly, his door opened and in came a very grave looking McNeilly. His face seemed pinched and stern, as if he was reluctant to be there at that precise moment.
"Five minutes ago I received word that one of our top agents was assassinated. Due to this...devastating news...it requires me to move a little faster than I intended..."
So far Marshall had no idea what his 'new' boss was talking about, as he had only gotten the 'someone important was assassinated'.
"I need you to follow me, please" he said as beckoned Marshall to follow him.
McNeilly led the way to a room on the opposite side of the hall. Inside a petite woman who looked to be in her late thirties greeted them. She sat beside what Marshall immediately recognized as a computer-like device, which is used to give out functional imaging tests...in other words...an un-deceivable lie detector. .
"I-I don't understand" Marshall said, looking at McNeilly expectantly.
"It's just simple procedure. A simple yes or no will do. If you fail to tell the truth on a single question..." McNeilly let the sentence slide, making it clear what would happen.
As Marshall went to sit down in the chair, rather uncomfortably, McNeilly spoke quietly with the lady that was monitoring the controls.
"Some of the questions...may seem a bit shocking to you, but try and focus please" McNeilly said as he walked out of the room, and headed towards another small room where he could watch Marshall through a one-sided mirror.
The interrogation started simple enough. The lady, who nicely introduced herself as Agent Briggs, began asking Marshall simple questions such as: Is your full name Marshall J. Flinkman?, Do you work for SD-6?, etc...
After Marshall seemed to get comfortable with the questions being asked of him, he noticed that they now took a sudden turn.
The questions got rather specific in nature, but Marshall answered as calmly as he could. Before he knew it, the interrogation was over, and Agent Briggs gave him a warm smile.
"There now...all done" she said a bit cheerily. But her expression dampened as she heard a voice come over her intercom.
"Ask him, Briggs" said the voice, which Marshall identified as McNeilly's. Apparently, he wasn't done just yet.
With a small sigh she turned around and looked at Marshall again. He could barely comprehend the question that was asked.
"Were you aware at all that SD-6 and all it's divisions are enemies of the CIA?"
To Be Continued. . .
Title: Marshall Flinkman 007
Summary: Marshall's never considered himself to be the 'secret agent' type, even if he did work for SD-6. Things change however as a sudden trip to London shows everyone, including himself that he has more promise than even the deadliest of agents. Will he give up his life as an 'Op Tech guy' to become a field agent? Or will he remain as he always was? Double-agents, assassinations, elegant parties, beautiful women, The Truth, and more, are all that await him.
Rating: PG. . .for now.
Author's Note: Things will begin to pick up now. Reviews are very welcome.
E-mail me at: varzideh@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All Alias characters and related material does not belong to me, but to J.J Abrams.
~~~~~
Everything seemed fuzzy as Marshall began to regain consciousness. He didn't seem to be on hard ground anymore, but on what appeared to be a burgundy, velvet couch, which was adorned with tiny, golden fleur-de-lis.
Feeling the back of his head, he was relieved to find that didn't seem to have had a bad fall. Why is it that he had to faint? His mom had always warned him not to get over excited, which is probably why she never really let him date much when he was growing up...In her mind, rampaging hormones was a major risk factor to her son's health.
Of course, more importantly, Marshall wondered how he'd gotten into the house (if you could call it that), as he was pretty sure he had collapsed just outside.
"Eric and I carried you inside" said a surprisingly pleasant voice from behind.
Sitting upright, Marshall bit back a laugh. The guy looked every bit like the butler from 'Ask Jeeves'.
"Uh...not to be rude or anything as I know it's not really my place to be rude, even if I'm apparently staying here, which I don't understand at all but-but I'm sure you know why I'm staying here..." he continued on and on, before 'Jeeves' cleared his throat loudly. Thankfully it was enough for Marshall to remember what he was going to ask. "So yeah...who's Eric?" he asked as he looked around.
"You're driver" 'Jeeves' responded as he came forward with a silver tray in his hands; on it lay a damp, white, wash cloth. Marshall took it gratefully, although he still didn't understand what he doing there.
An Op Tech specialist like himself was lucky if he found a decent apartment to live in. This was just beyond the realm of possibility. Why would Mr. McNeilly...or anyone for that matter, spend so much money on one guy? Despite Marshall's almost superhuman IQ, he as unable to come up with an answer.
"As for me sir" the butler responded, a British accent evident in his voice "My name is Williams. I've been informed that you are to now take up permanent residence here at Sterling Manor. If you'll allow me, and if you're feeling up to it, I'll be happy to give a tour of the estate that you ca-"
"Woah...hold on!" Marshall exclaimed loudly, putting out his hands in order to stop Williams from going on any further. Using the wash cloth that was still in his hand, he wiped the back of his neck. "P-Permanent?! I'm not going to be here long! I'm here temporarily! Temporarily as in...not permanent!" he cried. "My mom's going to kill me! And uncle Dan! What's he going to say when he finds out I won't be coming back with the case of ale he wanted! And Aunt Marge! She'll go into hysterics! Of course, rumour has it that she doesn't really like me after her dog Pugsy ate one of my dermal pigment capsules...but I told her not to let the dog in. So you see, I just can't stay here!" he finally finished saying.
He hurried over to the nearest door and quickly opened it, not even looking where he was going. Just his luck, he seemed to have walked into a linen closet, and with a faint click, the door behind him closed, leaving him in total darkness.
Williams had listened quietly to everything Marshall had said, not bothering to try and get in a few remarks. The boss would answer his questions, as it wasn't a butlers place to do so.
Of course, hearing a muffled Marshall asking politely if he could open the door, he strode over and opened the door, looking at the obviously distraught American with a questioning look.
"Perhaps I am mistaken" he said, although he doubted it. "Indeed, in any case, it would be wise for you to know you're way around the estate...no matter how long you plan to stay."
And with that, Marshall followed the butler around the estate, showing him everything including several of the guest bedrooms (which Marshall calculated to be 100 square feet bigger than his entire apartment), the tennis court, the gardens, the kitchens, the swimming pool, movie room, and garage (which housed several sports cars from various brands).
It actually took a little over and hour to go over the entire estate, and luckily one time was all it took for Marshall to remember where everything was situated.
As he followed Williams up a flight of stairs, he was led to the last door on the right. Opening it, Marshall was surprised to find a master bedroom, which could have passed for it's own large apartment.
"This is the master bedroom" Williams said behind him. "As you can see, you're belongings have been brought up. I'll leave you to your own then. If you need to reach me, just press '4' on the speed dial. Good evening sir."
It didn't take Marshall long to notice that there was a white envelope addressed to him propped up on the night-stand.
The planner is for your use only.
It was a rather cryptic message, but Marshall got the hint. Picking up the black leather planner, which had been beside the envelope, he opened it up and flipped through it. It seemed to be completely blank until he noticed that something was written under today's date.
Tailor- 7pm
It was already after four in the afternoon, and Marshall had no doubt that he was either supposed to go somewhere, or someone was going to meet him.
'Tailor...is that like a code name for someone?' he thought to himself as he lay down on his new bed.
He spent the next few hours trying to figure out what was going on, even going to his dresser and looking over the pictures that he had received in the car.
Suddenly the telephone rang with a sharp shrill, causing Marshall to jump in response.
Grabbing the phone, he answered. "H-Hello?" he said cautiously.
"I'll be arriving in ten minutes" a voice said in a neutral tone.
Recognizing the voice as the driver's, Marshall's tension died down somewhat. "Listen, about this afternoon. I heard that you helped take me inside. I really appreciate it. I mean, I know that I haven't really been keeping up with going to the gym lately, so I'm glad that y-you were able to-" he stopped suddenly as he heard the click of the phone on the other end. Eric had hung up.
"Thanks..." he said to no one in particular as he put the phone down and went to comb his hair.
Apparently Eric seemed to have arrived in a hurry, as it had only been a minute since he had called, and yet Williams knocked on the door to let him know that his car had arrived.
Not being able to change clothes, Marshall grudgingly made his way downstairs and out the door (which William's held open for him). Everything seemed so surreal; he had a butler calling him 'sir', the limousine was considered 'his' car, the room he had was considered 'his' room...the list went on and on.
As Marshall said thanks to Williams, he walked out the door and down to the car, where Eric stood holding the car door open.
Not forgetting the rude hang up that he'd gotten from his driver, Marshall resisted the urge to say thank you, and got into the car without a word.
He didn't even bother asking him where they were going, and figured he'd best enjoy the ride.
The ride however, didn't last long as they were soon back in the heart of London. They seemed to have stopped in front of a men's boutique.
Not noticing the sign outside the door, Marshall went in, unaware of what he was supposed to do. That didn't last long, as he saw a man in dark gray suit come up to him. A pleasant smile was on his face, which made Marshall feel slightly better.
"Ah Monsieur Benning! We 'ave been expecting you!" the man said with a heavy French accent.
"Really? I've been expected? That very g-good...I guess" Marshall said as he was pushed towards the center of the boutique.
A small, balding man with a tape measurer around his neck stood waiting by a long row of mirrors.
"You 'ave ordered the most exquisite suits. 'ere...let us get you started."
Before he knew what was happening, Marshall had put on 7 different suits...some casual, and some that he would have called 'super swank'.
He had to admit, he did look quite good in them, but he wasn't exactly sure what all this was for. By now he had figured out that 'Tailor' really had meant going to go get suits tailored, but why? He had never heard of any type of company having such a dress code.
An hour and a half, and ten suits later, Marshall was finally done. Apparently, someone had already chosen the suits out for him before he had even got there, and all he had to do was get them fitted. It wasn't exactly a bad thing, as whoever had chosen the suits had immaculate taste.
"The suits will be ready by tomorrow morning as you 'ave requested, monsieur" the man said happily, no doubt already knowing how much money he had just made on this transaction.
"Uh...thank you Anselm" Marshall said politely, as the man had told him his name. "Just a quick question though...how much is all this costing me?" he said cautiously, not knowing indeed how he was supposed to pay for all of this. Heck, he hadn't even been in London for 24 hours.
"Mais monsieur! Vous avez oublié! Your secretaire called and took care of everything" he said with his eyes shining.
"Ah...yes...my secretary..." Marshall answered unsurely, having no idea that he even had a secretary. "So...it's been a busy few days for me, and I-I seem to have forgotten...what type of-of suits are these?" Marshall asked, feeling rather stupid.
"Monsieur Benning!" Anslem said admonishingly. "You must take a few days off work, non? To clear thee head." Clucking his tongue, and shaking his head he continued "after all, if you can forget ordering ten of our finest Armani suits, then you must be very very busy."
Marshall stood ramrod still. 'Armani? Armani?!!!' While he wasn't exactly the flashiest dresser in the world, he did know that Armani suits didn't cost cheap. Heck the last Armani suit he wore was the tuxedo he had worn on his 'mission' with Sydney. And even then, he had had to return it to SD-6.
He seemed to have gone into a state of shock, which soon went away as Anslem presented Marshall with a glass of wine. Not being a drinker really, Marshall had no taste for it, but downed it anyways.
He held his breath as he walked out of the boutique and back into the car.
The rest of the night passed by in a blur as soon he was back in his bedroom, and after taking a quick shower, climbed into bed and soon fell asleep.
In what felt like only a few hours, Marshall's phone rang next to him. Picking it up, he grumbled a 'hello', only to get a cheerful 'good morning' from Williams who advised Marshall that his transportation would be arriving in an hour or so to take him to work.
Getting up, he trudged around to the bathroom, noticing that a suit bag was hanging from his dresser chair. 'Williams must have brought in it early this morning' he thought to himself as he noticed that it was nine o'clock in the morning. Jet lag was still an issue for now.
It took Marshall a half hour to get ready, as he took the opportunity to shave before going into work. He wanted to look as impressive as possible, although he wasn't really sure how to do that.
Putting on his new suit, he looked at himself in the mirror. Surprisingly, Marshall looked very dashing in his suit of dark blue. His light blue shirt was tie-less but he still felt as if he was dressed to attend a gala, rather than work.
Going downstairs, he smelled what could only be described as the best smell he had ever come across.
Making his way to the breakfast, he had to stop himself from drooling. French pastries, crumpets, danishes, bagels...everything that one could possible have for breakfast was on the table.
Marshall then realized that he had indeed, not eaten anything since the flight to London. It didn't take him long however, to finish off five cheese danishes, two blueberry scones, and two cups of coffee.
Soon Williams arrived to announce the arrival of his transportation.
This time however, it was not a limousine, but a black town car. Either Eric wasn't a morning person, or he just didn't take a liking to Marshall, as he didn't get out of the drivers seat to help him in. Frankly though, Marshall didn't mind one bit.
The ride lasted only about fifteen minutes as they pulled up to the building that Marshall had seen in the pictures. The sign outside the rather large building read 'Credit Dauphine', which honestly, didn't really surprise Marshall.
The car passed into the lower level garage, and then Eric turned around and spoke. "Take this card with you. You'll need it to access the A-1 level."
Marshall was accustomed to this, as the process reminded him exactly of getting to his office at SD-6.
Getting out of the car, with only a key card in his hand, he made his way to the parking lot elevator. Getting in, he put his card into the slot, which lit up various buttons ranging from A-1 to A-6. Pushing A-1, he waited as the elevator took him down several floors.
He entered a white room and standing in the middle of it, a flash of blinding, red light filled the room. Then the doors opened...
If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that he was back at SD-6. Everything seemed to be set up the same way, from the amount of computers in the main area, to the types of chairs everyone appeared to be sitting in.
No one looked at him as he made his past several stations, but he didn't get far as he heard someone from behind.
"Ah, Marshall. I'm happy you've decided to join us" Mr. McNeilly said with a smile. His expression seemed so different than it had when Marshall had seen him in Sloane's office. Here was a guy that looked warm and friendly, which was not exactly how Sloane looked...on any occasion.
"Hello Mr. McNeilly..." Marshall answered politely, his eyes darting around and looking at everyone surrounding him.
"I trust you liked the suits provided for you. I assumed that it would be a nice way for you to start your work here."
"Yes I-I liked them very much, as you can see" he said, motioning to the suit that on him "although what exactly am I supposed to be working on?" he asked.
The smile on McNeilly's face nearly faded, but he recovered before Marshall could notice. "Patience...patience Marshall. For now, you're set up at the office at the end of the hall and to the left. Your name is on the door already. Feel free to have a look around if you wish. I'll come by later on to speak with you."
And with that, McNeilly left Marshall standing there, in the middle of a room full of strangers, with whom Marshall would now have to work with. Not being a naturally social person, he felt as if it was his first day at a new school.
With a determined sigh, he made his way down the hall and to right, only then realizing as he came to a dead end, that he had gone the wrong way. It seemed as if he hadn't heard a word that McNeilly had said.
Turning around, he looked for someone that looked to be somewhat 'friendly'. Walking back down the hall, he saw a girl at the water cooler, idly sipping her cup of water. She didn't notice Marshall until he came up to her and said hi.
"Hi" she said without emotion, not seeming half as friendly as Marshall thought she would be.
"I-I...I'm having trouble finding my off-" before he could finish, the girl (who he realized was the one in the photographs he had) walked away from him. This made Marshall more self-conscience than before, as he was left standing talking to no one.
"Well are you coming or not?" the girl said as she turned around to look at Marshall. Apparently she had been heading towards his office...without really telling him.
Running to catch up with her, he followed her until they arrived at a door, which said 'Marshall Flinkman'. Strangely, it did not say his position as it did on all the other doors.
Opening the door, she motioned for him to go in. "Here you are. I trust you'll remember how to get here next time" she said without a smile. As she turned to walk off however, she stopped and appeared to stand motionless for a second or two, before turning around and heading back towards Marshall.
He really didn't know what was going on in that pretty little head of hers (he had indeed noticed that she was sort of pretty. No one could really compare to Miss Bristow however), but he was rather surprised when she walked up to him and held out her hand. "Agent Fenyvesi."
"Marshall..." he said in return, sticking out his hand and shaking hers.
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked off, leaving a very confused Marshall behind.
For the next four hours, Marshall spent his time looking through all the gadgets and computer systems that were in his office. He had to admit though, that he liked this office much better than the one in Los Angeles, as he had at least twice as much space now, as he did then.
Everything seemed identical to the objects at SD-6. So far he had seen no problems with their servers, or any security risks whatsoever. So he assumed that he was there for his 'gadget skills'.
Suddenly, his door opened and in came a very grave looking McNeilly. His face seemed pinched and stern, as if he was reluctant to be there at that precise moment.
"Five minutes ago I received word that one of our top agents was assassinated. Due to this...devastating news...it requires me to move a little faster than I intended..."
So far Marshall had no idea what his 'new' boss was talking about, as he had only gotten the 'someone important was assassinated'.
"I need you to follow me, please" he said as beckoned Marshall to follow him.
McNeilly led the way to a room on the opposite side of the hall. Inside a petite woman who looked to be in her late thirties greeted them. She sat beside what Marshall immediately recognized as a computer-like device, which is used to give out functional imaging tests...in other words...an un-deceivable lie detector. .
"I-I don't understand" Marshall said, looking at McNeilly expectantly.
"It's just simple procedure. A simple yes or no will do. If you fail to tell the truth on a single question..." McNeilly let the sentence slide, making it clear what would happen.
As Marshall went to sit down in the chair, rather uncomfortably, McNeilly spoke quietly with the lady that was monitoring the controls.
"Some of the questions...may seem a bit shocking to you, but try and focus please" McNeilly said as he walked out of the room, and headed towards another small room where he could watch Marshall through a one-sided mirror.
The interrogation started simple enough. The lady, who nicely introduced herself as Agent Briggs, began asking Marshall simple questions such as: Is your full name Marshall J. Flinkman?, Do you work for SD-6?, etc...
After Marshall seemed to get comfortable with the questions being asked of him, he noticed that they now took a sudden turn.
The questions got rather specific in nature, but Marshall answered as calmly as he could. Before he knew it, the interrogation was over, and Agent Briggs gave him a warm smile.
"There now...all done" she said a bit cheerily. But her expression dampened as she heard a voice come over her intercom.
"Ask him, Briggs" said the voice, which Marshall identified as McNeilly's. Apparently, he wasn't done just yet.
With a small sigh she turned around and looked at Marshall again. He could barely comprehend the question that was asked.
"Were you aware at all that SD-6 and all it's divisions are enemies of the CIA?"
To Be Continued. . .