Beast

Tick, tick, tick, tick, went the clock. The tiny noise was maddening, grating on her nerves. Tick, tick, tick, tick, it was the only sound she had heard for the past few hours? minutes? days? She had lost track. She shifted in the cold metal chair beneath her, waiting. It seemed like she had been doing a lot of waiting. Was what Julius had said true? Was half of this job really just waiting? If this was any indication of what was to come, he was right.

She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. She ran her fingers through her tidy hair, then inspected her nails. Tick, tick, tick, tick, went the clock. She balled her hands into fists. How she wanted to smash that clock. Normally, she was not quick to anger. At all. Really. But there was just something about that ticking... It was filling her ears and seeping into her brain.

The lone light above her barely illuminated the small room. She wondered if this was perhaps a part of what they did, keep you waiting, keep you in suspense. Was there a purpose to the mystery or was it all for their own amusement? Or perhaps it wasn't on purpose at all. But who was she kidding? Every move they made had a purpose.

She covered her mouth as she yawned. She readjusted her sensible skirt and rolled up the sleeves of her sweater. It was growing warm in that windowless room.

The desk in front of her was bare, although she was sure there must have been something inside its drawers, which were most likely locked. She wouldn't have dared anyway. She was not a nosy person by nature.

Tick, tick, tick, tick. How long was she supposed to sit here? At what point was it acceptable for her to get up and leave? Perhaps he had forgotten their appointment? But no, he couldn't have. No, no. He would never forget. They ran too tight a ship. Everything was neat and carefully organized. She wouldn't have been surprised if the number of times the man blinked in a day was coordinated.

Waiting. She had to wait, because she couldn't leave. You didn't leave. If you had to wait for them, then that was just what you did, because they knew more than you did, and if you had to wait, you could bet that there was a good reason for it. Possibly, that was just Julius glorifying them. She doubted it.

Tick, tick, tick, tick. She gritted her teeth. Why should one little clock on the wall opposite her be so infuriating? This was not her, to be so easily annoyed.

She had taken the time to memorize the room. It was very small with plain, white walls, and two doors. One, the one she had come in through, was behind her chair, and the other was behind the ramshackle looking desk. There was no more to it than that, other than the light, and the clock.

The ticking of the clock though, was not enough to distract her from her nerves. She had been expecting to come to the appointment and get this over with quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. But that was not to be so.

When she was a girl, she would sing to herself to calm her nerves. Sometimes, it was a silly song that she had heard on a television program, but other times, when she was most anxious, she would recite the French lullabies that her mother used to sing to her to get her to fall asleep. She cringed, imagining how embarrassing it would have been if Mr. Brown entered the room in the middle of her singing French lullabies.

When she was quite certain that she would be sitting in that chair forever, the door across from her opened, allowing light to flood the room. She blinked as her eyes adjusted, but just as soon as the door had opened, it had closed, and sitting in the desk in front of her was a man with gray hair, a stern expression, and his hands folded on the desk.

She gulped.

His tan face was set with deep wrinkles, and he had a pair of sad, gray eyes, the color of storm clouds. His jaw was square and harsh, and he had a wide, muscled neck. Perhaps he had once been handsome, but if he had, most of it had been drained from his face.

He gave her an appraising look, making her want to disappear beneath the floor. He then unlocked one of the drawers in the desk and took out a file, laying it in front of him. He glanced over it, flipping through a few pages, then closed it once more.

"So," he said casually in a tired, gravelly voice as he folded his hands in front of him once more. "You're Miss Sophie Bayer."

There were no formalities with this guy. No handshakes or, 'Hi, my name is,' or, 'It's nice to meet you.' Sophie didn't know if she liked that or not.

"Yes," she replied sheepishly. His gaze was steely and accusing. He was trying to make her nervous, to see if she would break. She couldn't give him the satisfaction.

He turned his attention back to the file, and a small smile graced his face for a moment, then disappeared. A slip in his composed facade.

"You're related to Julius Bayer?"

"Yes, he's my brother," she said quietly. The man seemed pleased about that fact.

"Good blood," he commented with a nod. He liked Julius. That wasn't surprising. Julius loved his work more than anything, and he had always been able to win over the people he needed to. Finally, Mr. Brown had seen all he needed of Sophie's file and returned it to the drawer.

"Miss Bayer," he said seriously and sympathetically, no longer trying to intimidate her. He spoke with an odd, but comforting flourish, gesturing with his hands in a way that reminded Sophie of her father. "I don't know what you've heard from your brother, but before you begin, I think it is very important for you to form your own opinion of what we do here. I don't want you to enter our forces under any false impressions, because once you join us, it is very difficult to leave. The contract is quite literally binding. I can't tell you how many agents have come here with ideas of grandeur and glory in their heads.

"If you want to be a hero, leave. Now. Become a cop, join the peace corps, go to medical school. I don't care. We don't breed heroes here. You can't go around bragging about your accomplishments. You wouldn't want to anyway. There's nothing glamorous about what we do. The world isn't divided into good guys and bad guys. That's not how it works. People have gone mad here. Truly insane. If you don't believe me, take a bus down to the mental hospital on Buckland Avenue. Ask to visit patient 233.

"If you think you know what goes on here because of Julius, you are mistaken. There is only so much he can tell an outsider, and well, even I have to admit that he's biased. The bad outweighs the good. Once you join us, this will be your life. No questions asked. Training is grueling, and the task afterwards is worse. This is not a pacifist's world. You'll become desensitized, less human if you will.

"You will lose everything, everything you now know. You won't be the same person. You may look the same on the outside, but underneath, trust me, trust me, you will be something you can't imagine. Next time you see your brother, take a good look into his eyes. They've changed haven't they? They all change," His eyes grew distant for a few moment, and for a brief second Sophie was sure that he wouldn't continue, but then he said,

"Now, Miss Bayer, do you think you're up for that?"

His speech did nothing to change her mind. If anything, it further steeled Sophie's resolve. This was partly because she thought he was just trying to scare her, and partly because she had come this far (but little did she know, it was not that far at all) so she couldn't turn back. She'd never forgive herself. She'd always be wondering. She'd always be unfulfilled, thinking or the what ifs.

"Yes," she nodded, absolutely certain. She was not to be discouraged.

The man nodded, a twinge of regret on his face. "Very well. You will begin training this Sunday, the fifth. I'm expecting great things from you, Miss Bayer. Your name has quite a reputation to live up to. You will be sure to hand this in when you arrive for the course," As he said this, he pulled out a pen and a piece of lavender colored paper, which was already full words. He scribbled a few quick notes and his signature, and handed the paper over to Sophie.

He stood up, and she did as well. He stuck out his hand for her to shake.

"It was nice to meet you, Miss Bayer."

"Likewise, Mr. Brown," she said as she shook his hand. She was sure that that was not his real name, she doubted if any of the higher up agents went by their real names.

He turned to go back through his door and Sophie turned to go back through hers.

On the train ride home, she read through the lavender paper carefully, but most of it was in lawyer speak that she couldn't really understand. The idea of it though, was that she would arrive on Sunday to complete a six month course, and once she had passed that, she would become a level D agent. Sophie wasn't sure what all of the levels meant, so that didn't mean much to her, but she did know that Julius was at level B, and from what he said, that was quite good for someone his age.

When she had arrived home, her father was at work, so she went up to her room and began packing. Sophie had moved back into her parents' house a few months earlier, right after her mother had passed away from cancer. This was mostly to keep an eye on her father. He was in declining health as well, and that coupled with the loss of her mother, whom he loved more than anything in the world, made Julius and Sophie worry. They didn't want him to do anything brash.

Sophie had always been a worrier, so even though she had two weeks until she was to leave for training, she wanted to be packed as soon as possible. She never left anything to last minute. She also wanted to make sure that her father would be okay on his own, especially since she and Julius probably wouldn't be able to visit as often as they would like.

As Sophie folded clothes and piled them into a suitcase, humming an making mental notes over other things she might need over the six month training course, the doorbell rang.

She walked quickly down the hall and opened the door to see Julius standing there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Since he had become an agent, and even a short while before that, he always wore suits, neat and tailored, and perfectly pressed. He was unshaven, and his shocking blue eyes looked tired, like they often did.

"Hey!" Sophie smiled and gave him a hug. She hadn't seen him in months. He had been away on some mission for work, and she was glad that she would get to see him before she went in for training.

"Hey! How's my little sister doing?" he asked, closing the front door behind him as Sophie made room for him to step into the house.

"Good. I actually just got home. Look!" she said, handing him the lavender slip of paper.

His eyebrows knitted together as he read it, then his face lit up and he smiled.

"That's great! Mom would be so proud," Julius congratulated her. His voice was raspy, like a smoker's, although he had taken up cigarettes only briefly in high school.

Unlike most siblings, they had never had any rivalry, even though they were close in age. When Julius was playing soccer, and Sophie wanted to play too, he was glad to help her practice in their backyard. When Julius was going to the movies with his friends, he'd let his kid sister tag along. Sophie couldn't remember a time when Julius got mad at her for, 'copying,' him, and she was fortunate for that. No one can make a better friend than your own sibling, and she and Julius had been best friends since always.

"Mr. Brown seemed really impressed that I was related to you," Sophie told him. Julius ought to know that he was appreciated by his boss. He worked hard enough.

Julius smiled, but didn't say anything. He was horrible at accepting compliments.

"Any tips for training?" she asked as they moved into the kitchen. She refolded the slip of paper and put it in her pocket.

Julius sat down at the kitchen table and rolled up his sleeves before saying, "Listen. The people who don't learn to listen have a tough time. Just do what you're told, and do it to the best of your ability, and you'll be alright. You really need to trust the system because when you're in training, since people drop out and not everyone passes, they don't tell you everything."

"That makes sense," Sophie commented, putting on a kettle and getting things out to make tea.

"Yeah. The people who have a chip on their shoulder, or want to prove a point by defying their superiors, they get their asses handed to them. I know you're not like that, but you'd be surprised how many of the people you'll be training with still act like pissed off teenagers," Julius said, yawning loudly, and rubbing his eyes. He had an angular, pale face, and a very square jaw. He looked like their father, and Sophie looked like their mother. Their mother had been a beautiful woman with dark, shiny hair and a kind face. She had the most wonderful, loving smile, and the greenest eyes. When Sophie was little, she thought that her mother was a princess.

Sophie nodded. "Do you know any of the people who'll be captains?" she asked, taking out two tea cups and two spoons.

Julius shook his head. "Naw, they rotate for every new training session. People do this to be out on the field, not to teach the rookies, so don't be surprised if some of the captains seem like they don't want to be there. They probably don't."

She nodded again.

Once the tea was done, she set their two cups on the table and sat across from her brother.

She stirred the light brown liquid thoughtfully, watching it swirl around the small cup. "So, before you joined, did Mr. Brown, well... try to convince you not to?"

"What do you mean?" Julius asked, setting his spoon on a napkin and lifting his cup up to take a sip.

"Well, before he gave me the form to hand in, he told me all about how he didn't want me to join because I had any false impressions. You know? He said not to have these grand ideas in my head, and to really think it through before I joined," Sophie explained. She couldn't help but get paranoid ideas. What if Mr. Brown just thought she looked soft? What if he had taken one look at her and knew she wasn't cut out for this? The self doubt piled up until Julius finally said,

"No, he never told me that. I wouldn't be surprised if that's what he's telling people now though. It's just another part of weeding people out. There were a few years when becoming an agent was like, a fashionable thing to do. People were trying to join left and right, so we were stuck with all these people who had gone to training just for the hell of it. It was tough for the people who were actually taking this seriously. People who bull shit around are a huge waste of the agency's time. It's not a joke. Like I said, it's probably just a part of the process now. They have to be picky. If someone doesn't really want this, that speech would probably scare them off. Oh, and don't worry," he added, "If he didn't think you could make it, he would have told you straight off the bat," It was like he had read her mind.

"He seemed really genuine though. Is it... I don't know, that scarring?" she asked.

Julius smirked. "That's part of his job, sis. If the guy didn't seem like he gave a shit, would you take him seriously? But, yeah, for some people, it's pretty intense."

"What do you mean, 'pretty intense?" she asked. Julius had this way about him where he'd purposely be vague so that you had to ask him questions. There was nothing he loved more than feeling smarter than most people. He was smarter than most people.

He sighed, "Well, a while ago, I hadn't even started training yet, when they first started bringing in outside people-"

"Outside people?"

"They used to hand pick people. You couldn't apply to be an agent."

"Oh,"

"Yeah," Julius said, looking satisfied that he had known something she hadn't. "When they first started bringing in new people, there was this guy. His name was Cain Hammedy, but most of the agents call him 233."

"So he's the guy at the mental hospital?" Sophie asked, politely interrupting him.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Mr. Brown said that if I didn't believe him, to go have a talk with patient 233."

"Oh," For a moment she thought Julius had looked troubled, but then it passed and she figured that she must have just been imagining it. "Brown must of been trying to freak you out. You can't visit Hammedy. I guess he's not well enough for visitors or something? I hear he's really violent. Anyway, like I was saying, Hammedy was an agent. One of the best. Locked them away like it was going out of style. He was almost as good as me," Julius smirked, so Sophie could tell he was kidding. "So anyway, this guy is amazing. He's my age and he's getting promoted like nobody's business. Kicking ass and taking names, right? People think he's going to be the next head of the agency or the next president of the United States or something. People loved him that much. But then one day, he just snaps. Loses his freaking mind. Kills his wife, shoots his partner and turns himself in, laughing and crying like a freaking maniac. Totally out of control."

"Then what?" Sophie asked.

Julius threw his hands in the air, "Then nothing. Carried away in a fucking straight jacket probably. No one I know of has visited him since. When an agent starts acting up, we tell them they're pulling a 233, and they sober right up. I'm sure there's a lot more to it than that, but a lot of what they tell you is on a need to know basis. You'll hear about him in training. That's another one they tell people to weed the softies out."

"Why'd he do it?"

Julius shrugged, "How should I know? All he'd do when he was questioned about it was talk nonsense. Now, they have all this psychoanalytic screening so they can get rid of all the people who might go nuts. Of course, they can't sift out everyone, but hey, every little bit helps. And, not that I'm condoning what he did or anything, but it's tough. That's why they give us longer time between missions now, and it's mandatory to see one of their therapists for a few sessions once we come home. They're a lot better about that now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, imagine this Sophie: You're sent on a mission to some place in some country where you don't know anyone but you're partner. You're away from everything you care about for months at a time. And on this mission you might kill someone, for instance. Then, you come home for a week or two, just enough time to visit and get a briefing on your next assignment, then you have to repeat the whole process over again. Then imagine doing that for years. It's tough. They used to treat agents like they were machines or something," Julius nodded knowingly.

They were silent for a while, until Sophie asked, "Have you ever killed someone?"

Julius didn't answer right away. He looked at her, as if debating how much of the truth to tell her before he finally nodded, all humor that might have been in his face gone. "Yeah. Once. It was on my first assignment too. Me and Manuel were in Sweden, and there was this gunman on us, this huge son of a bitch with tattoos all over his face. It was either take this guy out, or let him shoot my brains out. Not much of a choice, really."

"Oh," Sophie said quietly, "How is Manuel, by the way?" Manuel was Julius's partner. She'd only met him once, but he seemed like a nice guy. Very polite.

"He's good. He's good. His wife just had a baby boy. I might fly out to Madrid to visit them next week."

"That's awesome!"

Julius smiled a fake smile. Sophie wasn't going to ask why.

Another silence, and their tea cups were drained. Sophie put them in the sink, and glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. Five past three.

"So," she said as she resumed her seat at the table, "how long are you going to be in town?"

Julius rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. "Not sure. A couple days, probably. It's kind of weird. You'd think after traveling so much, when I finally come home, that I'd want to stay put for a while. You know? But I don't. I just want to keep moving. I'm like, itching to keep going. It's kind of like when you first get off a roller coaster, and the adrenaline is still pumping through you. It almost hurts to stand still. Does that make sense?"

Sophie nodded, even though it didn't make sense to her, not completely anyways. She was a firm believer in balance, and to her, that seemed to be something Julius lacked. It was something he had always lacked.

"It's good to be nervous though," Julius said, going back to their previous conversation about training, "Not just when you show up on Sunday. You always need to be a little nervous. It keeps you on your game. When you get over confident, that's when you start to make mistakes.

This advice wasn't new. Julius had told her almost the same thing before her first soccer game, and before her first ballet recital, and even before her driving test. It was a good, sound piece of advice though and had never steered her wrong.

"Well," he said, standing up, "I think it's time for me to go. I've got a few errands to run. I'm taking you and dad out for dinner tonight though. Alright? I'll pick you up at seven."

"Sounds good," Sophie said, getting up and following him back out to the front door.

"I know I'll see you again before you go, but good luck in training. You're going to do great," Julius said once they were at the front door.

"See you later."

They exchanged another hug, and Julius left, hopping onto his motorcycle parked in the street. Sophie watched him for a few moments as he sped down the street. As he passed car after car, with nothing tying him down and nothing holding him back, she couldn't help thinking; She wished that he'd wear a helmet.