Shadows of Yesterday
CHAPTER FOUR: THE WORDS WE NEED TO HEAR
The two were indeed at Preventer's Headquarters bright and early the next morning, through sheer force of will and the miraculous power of ice cold water and heaping amounts of coffee, and a damn loud alarm clock.
Lady Une opened the door to the conference room the next morning to discover Sam; bright, cheery, and awake, and Duo; flopped onto the table with his hands clutching his head, occasionally looking up to send death glares reminiscent of a certain blue-eyed pilot at the other man.
"What on Earth is wrong with you, Duo?" she asked as she watched him shy away from the brighter light in the hallway with a hiss.
He groaned, and pointed at Sam. "Tahary. Speak words."
Sam looked at her with a sheepish grin on his face. "Well, m'lady, that is unfortunately a long, harrowing tale that would take me forever a day to tell in its entirety, but the short version is this—I can hold my liquor. Duo can't."
Duo hissed again. "Tahary, stop speakin' words. I can too, ya bastard!"
He winced at the pain of speaking too much.
"Uh-huh. And just who is the one cowering away from the light, with a headache the size of Mount Everest?"
"Shut up, Tahary."
"Shutting up."
Une watched all of this with an amused grin on her face. "Glad to see you boys getting along so well. With Duo in the state that he is, however, you're very lucky that the only agents you'll be seeing today will be the ones you chose that work on this base, which I think amounts to...seven people. Two are out on missions and won't be back until next week, so you only have to interview five people."
Duo looked up, eyes wide. "Interview?" he asked.
"Yes. You didn't think you could just choose based on a file and be done with it, did you? There are things you can learn only by meeting someone in person."
Duo looked over at Sam, who had the same look on his face. "Who did we put on that 'maybe,' list again, Sam?"
Sam only blinked, and Une sighed. "Well, I've already contacted the five of them—the first will be here at 10."
They looked at the clock. It was 8:30.
"So you boys have an hour and a half to start figuring out the other details of your division—name, training, team structure, etc. You might also want to figure out what you're going to ask your candidates...I suggest you get to work."
And with that she left, buns swinging behind here, leaving them to stare after her.
Duo dropped his head into his hands. "We're goin' ta dieeee," he moaned.
An hour later found things going much better than they had the day before, all things considered.
Une had hid all the scented markers in the building—actually, all of the markers in the building—and so Duo could not repeat yesterday's...events.
He had pouted for about ten minutes—murals were fun, especially when you had no artistic abilities whatsoever—before they got down to business.
They had actually hammered out a lot of the details, and were now going over them to make sure they didn't make a mistake that would mess them up later.
"...okay, so if there's fifty people, after retraining they will be split into ten teams of five—"
"—and durin' retrainin' each person will be required ta specialize in two skills. Because of the two specialties, we can group them ta have specialized teams as a whole, like a team that specializes in infiltration—"
"—but because of their secondary specialties they will also be well rounded—an infiltration team could also have a medic, a weapons expert, etc."
"Right. And if we put together everythin' on the "What we Want" list along with the list of things they should be trained in, and consider how trained all the candidates already are—"
"—the projected retraining time is...six months."
"Fuck."
Duo sat back and rubbed his hands over his face wearily. The hangover had been rather easy to ignore once they got down to work, but the work was just making his headache worse.
They had decided to start from the difficult and work their way down—so they started with the retraining program.
It wasn't working out. No matter how many times they recalculated, factoring in how many people needed to be retrained in each required area, or to simply brush up because it was their specialty, taking out time for people who were already masters of a certain area, cutting down the preferred amount of time for retraining in each skill—they could not get the total to anywhere decently beneath six months without losing skill and efficiency.
That was without adding in the fact the two of them were just that—the two of them. Outside help was needed if they were going to be retraining fifty people—probably including themselves—to be top-notch black-ops agents.
Question; who was good enough to train said fifty people to said caliber, and be trusted not to blab their secrets to the world?
His mind was going in circles and by the looks of things, Sam wasn't doing much better.
"We're screwed, aren't we?" Sam asked.
Duo frowned. "Not quite," he replied, thoughtfully. "Une had ta have known we would run up against these problems, especially the one with who the hell is goin' ta retrain fifty people—either she has a solution, or the solution is so fuckin' obvious we're just not seein' it."
Then his eyes widened. "Oh hell ta the fuck no," he snarled, slamming his hands on the table as he stood violently. "She fuckin' wouldn't. Not after I fuckin' specifically said—"
He let the sentence trail as he stormed out of the room, and Sam did the only thing he could—he followed, wondering what the hell could get Duo in such a state. What leaps had his mind made? Who would Une trust to have the skill retrain fifty people and keep it secret—oh.
Oh, shit, he thought, quite succinctly, and hurried after Duo as fast as he dared, now knowing that the man was quite justified in his anger—if what they were thinking was correct.
He hoped to every single God he knew of that they weren't. He didn't want to be Une if they were and Duo got to her.
Une was quite calmly—a fact she was rather proud of—filling out some paperwork when her door slammed open with a crack like a gunshot, admitting one Duo Maxwell in a fury the likes of which she had never seen him in—a fact demonstrated by his L2 accent, now coming out in such force that she could barely understand him.
"Lady Une, what da fuck are ya playin' at?"
Alarmed, she tried to cut in, but her efforts were in vain. "Duo—"
"Afta I fuckin' specifically told ya, dat dey were not ta be involved, ya fuckin' go behind my back and do it anyways."
Sam came in behind Duo then, looking rather helpless, but he had a hint of the same anger in his eyes. She knew she wouldn't get any help from him.
"Duo, what are you—" again, Duo just plowed right through her, his speech degenerating even more.
"Was dat yer fuckin' plan from da beginnin'? Yer da one who fuckin' wanted me ta run dis fuckin' division, me and Sam—so where da hell do ya get off choosin' them?"
He spat the last word like it was the foulest word he had ever heard of, and Une would have felt truly sorry for whoever it was that had incurred such wrath from him—had she any idea what he was talking about.
He continued to rant, but she could no longer for the life of her understand him. When she was quite sure questions of her lineage and insults towards Treize had somehow made their way in, she did the only thing she could—
She shouted at the top of her lungs.
"DUO MAXWELL, IF YOU DO NOT SHUT UP, CALM DOWN, AND TELL ME WHAT THE HELL YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT, I WILL CUT OFF YOUR GODDAMNED BRAID AND MAKE YOU EAT IT!"
He miraculously fell silent, staring at her with wide eyes. Sam, behind him, was just as shocked.
"Now," she continued, voice completely level. "Why don't you two sit, and Duo, why don't you tell me exactly why you felt it necessary to barge into my office—ten minutes before your first interview, I might add—and cuss me out, and Tahary, why you seem to agree with him?"
The tone of her voice told them that it was not a suggestion.
They sat.
"Tahary, you seem to be much calmer. Mind telling me what this is all about?"
He shifted nervously, looking sideways at Duo. "Umm...well...you see..."
"Spit it out, Tahary."
"Actually, I only have a vague idea of what's going on myself...but if Duo's right, then I think he's completely justified in his anger...I'll shut up now."
Duo sent him a look that said, Thanks a lot, before sighing and looking at his hands.
"Okay," he said. "I'm calm. I think. Now, Lady Une, when you assigned us this division, you had to be aware that any agents we chose would likely have be retrained, either in part or for a small number, entirely."
It was a testament to how much he was controlling himself at that moment that there was not a hint of an accent in his voice, unlike a few minutes before.
She nodded. "Yes. I was well aware of that fact."
"You also had to be aware that the two of us alone would not be enough to accomplish that task."
Again, she nodded. "Yes—though I'm glad to see you don't seem to have such a high opinion of yourself as some people think you do, Duo."
Her attempt at humor fell flat as he continued, in a deadly even voice.
"Just who, Lady Une, were you planning on acquiring to accomplish that task?"
Her brow furrowed. "I was planning on bringing in several high profile, special agents—the only files you did not have access to—and a couple of experts not well known to the public, sworn to secrecy of course—"
Her eyes widened as she backtracked to the first part of that statement, the puzzle pieces suddenly falling into place.
"You thought I was going to bring in the other pilots," she said softly, and his silence—along with Sam's—was the answer she needed. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was—in the words of the man before her—going to need alcohol tonight.
"Despite what you may think Duo, I am the one that needs you, you and Sam, your expertise. What would I have to gain by going against your direct requests? You are, in essence, giving up your lives for this organization—the least I can do is comply with a few simple wishes. Besides, as I said, there were a few agents for whom you did not have access to their files. You had access to the files of the pilots who work for this organization."
He hung his head, and she saw a sheepish expression cross Sam's face.
"I'm sorry, Lady Une," he murmured. "It's just, they were the only people I could think of that you would trust to bring in, and—"
"You lost it," she finished. "Duo, why do you hate them so much?"
He was suddenly evasive, shifting, standing, laughing nervously. "Umm, yeah, sorry 'bout that, Lady Une, but you're right our first interview is like, right now and we'll just be goin' now, right Sam?"
He grabbed the other's arm and started to drag him out, but Une's voice stopped him.
"Duo."
He stood in the doorway, refusing to look back at her. "They promised," he finally whispered, and then he was gone, Sam vanishing with him.
Sam didn't speak on the way back to the conference room, sensing that Duo needed some time with his thoughts. But that didn't stop his own from whirling chaotically.
'They promised.'
Duo's voice had been so soft, so pained, so empty. What on earth could the other pilots have done that would cause him so much pain, so much hatred?
That was the problem, as well. Sam didn't think that Duo hated them—there had been no anger, no condemnation. Only sadness.
Duo's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"So, Sam," he said, sounding completely normal. Sam was confused—and slightly sad—but decided to just let it go. He nodded to tell Duo to go on.
"...do ya have any idea what we're supposed ta ask these people?"
Sam blinked. And then groaned. Loudly.
Reiterate: "We're going to dieeee."
The first man ended up being slightly late, so they had about three minutes to hash out a basic plan of what they were going to do. It was still crap, and they would likely be making most of it up on the fly, but at least they had something.
Unfortunately, that plan flew out the window the moment said first man walked in an immaculate business suit, briefcase in hand, expression polished. His brown hair was slicked back, though blue eyes betrayed a slight nervousness.
They exchanged glances that quite clearly said, Shit.
What the hell had Une told these people?
The man stood there looking between the two of them, looking quite confused. "Umm..." he said. "Am I in the wrong place? I was told to report to Conference Room 1C at 10 for an interview with...Commander Maxwell and Commander Tahary?"
The two finally broke off from "look swearing," to turn back to the man. Sam decided to speak up first, going for slightly formal.
"No, no," he said. "You're in the right place. But pardon me for asking—what exactly did Une tell you you were being interviewed for?"
The man shifted nervously, still standing. "She didn't say much...only that it was an interview for an extremely lucrative job offer that was being made in complete secrecy."
Duo facepalmed. Trust Une to make our job harder...well, guess we'll just have to go with it.
"Alright," he spoke, startling the other two slightly. "Enough formal shit. I'm Commmander Maxwell, call me Duo, he's Commander Tahary ("Call me Sam,") and you're..."
He flicked open the file in front of him. "...Caleb Adara. Sit down man, we won't bite. Hard."
The man, now named Caleb, sat, more out of surprise than anything else. "You...you two are Commanders? But you can't be much more than—"
"Twenty?" Sam supplied helpfully. "Well, I don't know about that guy there, he's 19, poor young sap, but at least he can drink—not well, mind you—but I'm 22. Yet, Une made us Commanders. You going to question that?"
Caleb shook his head. "Nope, don't dare. Had too many run-ins with her scary side to question her. She made you Commanders, there must be a damn good reason. So...why am I here?"
The two exchanged looks again, this time fighting a silent war. Finally, Duo sighed and spoke.
"First things first, Caleb—how dedicated are ya ta Preventers?"
Caleb snorted, now looking much more comfortable and relaxed. "Are you kidding me? Preventers is basically the only life I have. If I didn't work here, I'd be out of my apartment and on the streets within a week. My paycheck barely covers rent, food, gas, and bills. You have my file—I'm sure you've seen all the overtime."
Duo made a noncommittal noise, giving the file to Sam for perusal. The other whistled as he looked at the mention page. "Overtime, indeed. Yet you are an extremely skilled agent, Caleb—why are you not better paid, if not in the field?"
Caleb flushed. "I'm afraid I was a bit of a...hotheaded rookie, in my early days. Made a couple of big mistakes, barely kept my job, got demoted and haven't been promoted since. I still keep my skills sharp, just in case...but I'm starting to think it's useless."
Another silent conversation of the eyes.
"Well, Sam, shall we break it down?"
"We shall, Duo."
"What we have here—"
"Is a man who lives for his work, as shitty as the job is—no offense, Caleb—"
"None taken."
"—and still goes above and beyond in the hopes of atoning for past mistakes. Crap, I feel cliché, but moving on—"
"—He has the potential ta be a great agent, trained properly—"
"—Has some useful specialties—knives and an uncanny ability to blend into a crowd, or any other setting—"
"—has a good personality, I might add—"
Caleb was looking back and forth between the two, who were speaking like a ping-pong ball. He had no idea where they were going with this, but somehow he had a good feeling.
The conversation—if you could call it that—finally seemed to be drawing to a close. He held his breath in anticipation.
"Well, Duo, I do believe he fits the profile. Not that we didn't already know that."
"Yes, I do believe he does."
"Final question, Caleb," Sam directed at him. "Do you have anything pressing tying you to the outside world?"
He shook his head. "My dad is dead, I don't know where my mom is, and I don't have any other family that I know of or a girlfriend. Not many friends, either."
They grinned at each other.
"Caleb, my man," Duo said, grinning widely. "You have said all of the magic words. And thus, we come to the point of this meeting. Oops, last question—can you keep a secret?"
He nodded.
"Right then. A few days ago I was called in by Une. She informed me of the comin' formation of a brand new, completely secret black-ops division of Preventers, of which she was offerin' me—and Sam—leadership of. We spent eight hours yesterday choosin' fifty agents from Preventers whom we thought could make it in such a division. You were one of them, and the question is—do you want ta join?
Caleb stared at them, blinking. Finally he spoke. "You two want me, to join a super secret, hush-hush black ops division?"
Sam nodded. "Yup."
"Only fifty agents...out of the entire organization..."
Duo nodded. "Uh-huh."
He shook his head before looking up with a determined look on his face.
"Where do I sign?"
Planned to go farther...actually, quite a bit farther, but decided that that was a good stopping place and to save the rest of the stuff I had planned for next chapter, because it probably would have been almost another chapter in itself. Longest one yet, though!
Sorry for the late—by the standards of this story so far—update. I started typing this the day after the last chapter, and kind of froze about a page in and by the time I went back to it, it was late and I needed sleep. Not that I got much. Today I have currently been awake for...19 hours straight, and am dang exhausted, but needed to get this done. So I hope you're all happy.
This actually flowed quite easily after the idea for Duo to get utterly pissed off at Une because of what he thought she had done came to me in a flash. Literally flash—one second I was like, "hnnnnn," the next, typetypetypetypetype. If you would like a translation of said rant, please ask in a review or pm, and I will provide. This AN is getting too long...
Last point, next chapter expect more interviews, one or two OC's, and a DAMN HUGE CLIFFHANGER in the form of several familiar canon characters, hinted at briefly in this chapter. Everyone please start suggesting canon characters I can bring into this—I need to stop using all my OCs! One or two more and the whole gang from my original fiction "Everything Left Unspoken," (based a bit on GW) will be here—Seth, Sam, Caleb, Max, and Theo!
I disclaim anything you recognize as not belonging to me.
Ciao!