Evenfall (27 page)

Harry's smirk spread into an outright grin as his brown gaze moved back to Sin. "Aren't you?"

The tension seemed to be steadily building and Sin's fingers had curled loosely around his book. His eyes never left Truman's even as he slowly began putting his stack of books together. "I hear word that there's a sixteen-year-old in the training complex, Harry. Perhaps you should go see if he's your type. A bit old but you seem open to variety lately."

The guard's face flooded with color and he jerked forward instantly as if to swing. Sin didn't move an inch; he didn't even flinch as Harry's clenched fist stopped only centimeters from his high cheekbone. Harry's mouth had pulled back into a snarl at that point but he retracted his fist as Sin stared at him with the same chill in his vivid green eyes.

"Are we finished?" Sin asked, voice quiet and deadly.

Harry didn't answer as he seemed to struggle to control his flaring temper. Sin stood, picked up his books and walked away as if the incident hadn't even occurred. Despite the fact that the guard had come with the intention to provoke, he was the one who looked the most upset by the incident.

His eyes dropped to Boyd and turned into slits as if he hated Boyd as well for witnessing the interaction.

Boyd returned Harry's glare with a largely impassive stare, although his eyebrow ticked up faintly. What little emotion was visible on his face showed that he wasn't particularly impressed.

There was definitely an especial amount of tension between those two. The implications of the conversation shed some amount of light on it, including the slightly disturbing way Harry had addressed Sin.

Harry finally seemed to relax, rocking back on the balls of his heels and rolling his shoulders. He ran a hand through his thick brown hair, gave Boyd another assessing glare and then turned without a word.

Boyd watched the man go, his eyes narrowing faintly in thought. After he was alone again, he turned his attention back to his book. However, at that point the silence was almost distracting. He found that he felt it was unfortunate that Harry had arrived since he'd finally been making some amount of conversational progress with Sin.

He kept thinking about what Ryan had said, and the implications of Sin's past, and the familiar way Harry treated Sin. In the end he found that the questions clamoring in his mind did not allow him much respite for looking at photographs of architecture. No matter how detailed they were.

He sighed and shut the book. He wasn't sure whether he was more discontent with the fact that the interaction had distracted him from being able to concentrate when alone and had effectively ruined any chances of a quiet few hours... Or whether, instead, he didn't mind that Sin had been there and he was more displeased that Harry had interrupted them.

It was odd to consider the idea that he could have been, on any level at all, enjoying Sin's company. Still, now that Sin was entrenched firmly in his mind again he decided he may as well look into the information Ryan had provided him.

He ended up putting back most of the books and only brought with him the continuation of the series. When he got home, he opened his father's old office which he hadn't touched in years. He could almost feel the presence of ghosts, shifting just out of his perception.

When he turned the light on it flickered dully. Many of the light bulbs had burned out long ago and he hadn't bothered replacing them. The bombs had affected the electricity and some rooms had stronger currents than others.

He didn't pay heed to the ambiance and booted up the computer. It was old and unused and took a long time to load, with labored whirring in the process. He ended up leaving it to load to go make himself some jasmine tea, and when he returned it was finally ready.

For so many years, this room had been off-limits; partially due to an unspoken rule of his mother's to not disturb anything that had been his father's, and partially because he hadn't wanted to be reminded of old ghosts anyway.

He remembered from childhood sitting quietly in the living room, reading a book or drawing on paper and looking up every time he thought he heard movement that indicated his dad was done. He used to long for those moments when his father would abruptly open the door and appear, tired lines etched into his face from hours of working on the computer.

Even so, his brown gaze used to dart around immediately and the second he saw Boyd, he always broke into a grin.

Boyd remembered the way his dad had swooped down on him and picked him up, hugging him against that chest that had felt so broad and inviting and safe, and the affectionate way those large fingers had ruffled his hair or held him closer. The obvious happiness and excitement in his voice as he'd proclaimed he was done with work and asked Boyd what he wanted to do.

That moment when his father had appeared in the hallway had always been Boyd's favorite. Although there were sometimes hours if not entire days prior to that when his father would rarely appear, the moment he had entered the room he'd always lit it up. Walls had seemed too paper thin to contain that grin. Dismal days had seemed brighter.

His presence had always seemed larger than life and the sparkle in his eye had so often seemed genuinely happy or mischievous. The smell of ink had seemed to linger on his father's clothing as well, although Boyd had never known specifically why. It had just been his scent. That, mixed with old books and newspapers and generic soap.

Perhaps that was why Boyd felt an affinity for old bookstores and libraries. Aside from the ability to disappear into a corner, it was a comforting place the way his father's arms had once been.

After his father's death, the room had been used occasionally; oftentimes by Lou to play a game, although Boyd had also utilized it for schoolwork. Some of their use had been important and some frivolous. When he thought of pulling up an internet browser he imagined the search engine still displaying a search for Latin phrases.

The thought made his stomach clench and expression shut down, and he looked away from the familiar background to stare at the wall. He ignored every thought that went through his mind until he was certain he could stay on task.

The times of his father or Lou using the room were long ago and those memories were best left untouched. None of it held any relevance or meaning for his life anymore. If it weren't for the fact that the office held the only computer in the house, he would not have even opened that creaking door.

He sat down at the desk, brushing off the thick layers of dust that were in the way, and set his mug on an old jewel case to the side. Although his mother never came home anymore and his father was long dead, he still automatically followed etiquette to keep from staining the furniture.

Once the flash drive was inserted and a window popped up on screen, he saw that Ryan had collected quite a bit of information. There were many folders and files, and judging by the extensions Ryan had compiled videos, images, and documents.

Boyd clicked through a few of the images first. They appeared to be pictures of Sin over the years. Most were still frames from security or surveillance cameras. One picture was what appeared to be a mug shot from jail and another appeared to be a picture taken for identification purposes for the Agency.

Sin's appearance hadn't changed much over the course of the years; every image portrayed the same penetrating green gaze and unruly black hair although that had taken on streaks of red at some point. The progression in age was interesting, not because of his physical appearance, but because of the slight change in demeanor as he'd grown older.

The image of Sin at the age of fourteen showed a thin, sinewy boy with almost delicate features. Long black eyelashes framed his pale green eyes. As intelligent and calculating as those eyes seemed to be, teenage Sin's face was completely void of any expression or emotion. Several pictures of him over the subsequent years seemed to follow that trend. It was hard to imagine that scrawny, striking child going on assignments and taking lives, but Boyd knew Sin had.

At some point his mannerisms appeared to have gradually begun to change. His face became extremely expressive and often the look in his eyes was challenging, hostile and accompanied by the mocking smirk that Boyd was familiar with now. The change could imply that Sin had found the ability to express himself over the years by rediscovering emotions he hadn't been able to have as a child assassin.

Boyd's experience with Sin, however, told a different story. He suspected the opposite was true. Sin's provoking manner seemed like an act or defense mechanism to keep others at bay until he could discern their motives. What he was truly feeling was something only Sin knew.

He returned to the main folder and watched the videos.
The first video he saw seemed to be the one Ryan had referred to with the girl that had been attacked.

Grainy footage from what appeared to be a surveillance camera filled the screen. From the angle, Boyd guessed that it was fixed on a streetlight as it hovered above a street he recognized in Vickland. The date at the bottom of the video was seven years old, which explained why the area had not been cleaned up yet. This hadn't been long after the second major wave of bombs that had devastated the country.

After joining the Agency, Boyd learned that prior to the peak of the war all those years ago, paranoia had been high. Cameras had been installed nationwide in concealed vantage points to watch high traffic areas and the sections of the cities that were known to house criminal behavior.

It had been an attempt to catch terrorists in the act. In order to avoid losing anything, the footage had been routed through heavily protected wires and casings to automated facilities that could record for years even without a single person present to monitor. Several of the cameras were destroyed during the war, despite all precautions taken, but many had survived.

Boyd doubted that many of the people on screen knew they were being recorded, if any at all. He had grown up in Lexington and had visited Vickland with Lou many times, and he didn't remember ever noticing any cameras. It was possible, of course, that any that had remained in Vickland had been removed in the years between the second wave of bombs and when Boyd had been old enough to be wandering that neighborhood with Lou.

At one time, Vickland had nearly been an extension of the Financial District. Since the bombs, it had fallen into disrepair. And, for people like the girl running across the screen, it had become dangerous.

Boyd watched as the scene played out. A young girl of thirteen or fourteen ran across the screen in terror, three men who dwarfed her petite form running after her. They caught her quickly and began tearing at her clothing before they forced her down within view of several scavengers who didn't pay much attention to the affair. Her mouth was wide open and her face was twisted, showing that she was screaming loudly in panic.

Sin appeared, walking calmly down the street. He didn't seem to be startled by the scene before him but he did stop and observe. The men halted their activity and words were exchanged, but the camera didn't pick up any sound.

Sin appeared to be staring at the young girl with a blank look on his face as she sobbed and struggled, but there was something in his eyes that made it obvious that the disinterest was only on the surface. The slight curl of his mouth, the way his hand slowly balled into a fist; they were all telling signs that Sin felt something else as he looked at the scene. It was not an expression that Boyd was familiar with and it inspired curiosity in him as he watched.

Without transition, Sin abruptly looked at the men with an expression of wild fury. The look was deadly, frightening and Boyd wondered if this was what Ryan had meant when he'd said that Sin could 'lose it' sometimes. The expression on Sin's face had the ability to send a shiver down a person's spine and it was painfully obvious that in that moment he was not entirely sane.

What happened next was a blur. One second Sin was standing there facing off against three considerably stronger looking men and in the next, he was slaughtering them. His movements were almost graceful, decisive-- he killed effortlessly and with a skill that was startling.

They truly hadn't stood chance.

The carnage was over seemingly within seconds. Afterward, Sin stood there covered in blood. He stared, wide-eyed and snarling. The girl unsurprisingly began screaming in terror. This time it caught the attention of the scavengers and for some reason, the entire scene erupted in chaos.

Boyd could only assume that the scavengers had thought Sin had murdered three men and was now attacking a girl. It was the only reason he could think of to explain what happened next.

They swooped in on Sin with pipes, bats, bricks-- whatever was in the debris that lay in piles in the area, and he responded with lethal force. Everyone who came near him fell to the ground. No matter what they threw at him and how many jumped on him, his lanky form managed to overpower them. It wasn't long before police arrived in droves and he was finally taken down.

Boyd frowned slightly at the screen in thought and moved to the next file in chronological order.

The video was the same night but apparently several hours later. The picture was sharper and showed Sin sitting at a table in a small room. He was still covered with dried blood but the wild look was gone from his face. Instead he looked withdrawn and dismayed. He kept looking at his hands and scrubbing them against his pants, his full mouth turned down deeply at the sides. After awhile he got up to pace the room, scratching at the dried blood that clung to him and raking his hands through his hair at random.