Missing in Action

Chapter 002

Standing outside the massive, white building everything seemed to finally hit him like a ton of bricks. It was clearly the same building he'd seen in photos of the school, but up close it looked more intimidating than beautiful. And he was scared. Scared about the mission, scared of the things it may end up requiring of him. He couldn't afford to be, though; in the middle of everything, fear was nothing but an unnecessary distraction that kept him from living up to his potential.

On his father's side, Ryan was from a military family. Navy, to be exact. His father was a retired SEAL, as were his two uncles, and his grandfather had been too. Several of his cousins were stationed all over the world with the navy as well; two of them SEALS themselves already. Every man in his family had been involved in the military ever since the Separation War and he'd been expected to follow those same footsteps. Sadly, Ryan's physique and, at times, frail health didn't allow this. Instead he'd ended up at the bureau, and he had yet to make his family understand that what he was doing was just as, if not more, important than what the Navy SEALS accomplished.

This was his chance; that was what he had to keep reminding himself. This was his shot at proving that what he was doing was enough, that he was good enough. This was also his chance to do something potentially great for his country, to serve like he'd been raised to. This was his great war to fight; not with the means his family usually approved of, hopefully not with weaponry or force, but this was still it.

He took a deep breath and heaved up his suitcases, walking up the driveway's crunching stones and up the wide staircase until he reached the doors. They were closed for the evening and he was unsure whether he should knock or do something or if he was supposed to simply walk inside. After a few moments' contemplation, he decided on the latter.

The door was heavy in his grip, but he managed to maneuver himself and both suitcases through and found himself in what looked like a large hall. Doors and stairs seemed to be leading away in all different directions. The walls were a pleasant cream color with paintings and pictures decorating them and chandeliers were hung from the ceiling. The floor seemed to be solid grey stone, and Ryan's footsteps echoed through the room as he crossed it.

There were people huddled here and there, just a few boys between the ages of eleven and eighteen, chattering amongst themselves, but no one really made any move to approach him. People should give the place warmth, make it something that was easier for him to take in, but instead they somehow made it even more intimidating. He swallowed that feeling, though, biting his lip as he reached what looked like the middle of the high-ceilinged room where he stopped walking, putting the suitcases down. He honestly had no idea where to go from there.

Five minutes or so later he was put out of his misery when a stern-looking man who looked to be somewhere in his forties, with greying hair, a thin mustache and thick glasses showed up, looking him up and down in distaste that was so well guarded that Ryan probably wouldn't have picked up on it if he hadn't been trained for things like that. "Mr. Hastings, I assume," the man started, cocking one thick eyebrow. Upon receiving a nod he managed a smile that really only made him look scarier. "I'm Mr. Brown, the boarding inspector on duty tonight. Welcome to Saint Francis of Assisi's Academy for Boys."

"Thank you, sir," Ryan answered, reaching out to shake the man's hand. "Ryan Hastings," he added, although the man already seemed to know this minor detail. When Mr. Brown took his hand, he remembered, last minute, to loosen it a little. A handshake said a lot about a person, and he wasn't supposed to be a confident young man here. He was supposed to be a possibly cocky, spoilt, rich boy.

"We have a simple set of rules here," Mr. Brown continued. "Anyone should be able to appreciate them. I'll let you study them yourself, and then you can ask any member of the staff if you have questions." He pushed a small folder and a key into Ryan's hands, stern look on his face. "Key is for your dorm room. Breakfast is at seven thirty to eight fifteen, classes commence at eight thirty. Lunch is at twelve and dinner at seven. We do not tolerate tardiness nor do we accept skipping class. Your uniform is in your room, and it must be worn for meals, classes and mass, which is at ten every morning, weekends included. Since you came in the middle of the school year teachers are likely to cut you a bit of slack, but we expect you to catch up quickly. You can always ask your classmates for help."

"Thank you, sir," Ryan replied, nodding slightly to indicate that he understood while he struggled to get the folder to go into the pocket of his all-too-tight jeans. The key was a little easier, and after a few moments both items were inside, the key digging into his flesh slightly. And as crazy as that may sound, he really couldn't wait to get into his uniform.

The frown on the man's face seemed to grow deeper, giving his whole appearance a darker tint, and Ryan had to force himself not to shudder slightly. He was an academy trained federal agent. He should be above getting scared by high school teachers, dammit. "Where is that Walker?"