The Questionnaire

 

Danae

 

These characters are mine, as is the story.  However, the idea for the story came from a post to the sentinel angst list long, long ago.  A list member posted the questionnaire to the list and I believe had "answered" it for Sentinel characters. I cannot remember whom it was or where she said she got the questionnaire.  This is not intended to infringe upon her story, but I was inspired to have my characters "answer" her questionnaire as a way of adding dimensions to them.  It's actually a great character building exercise and I thank her immensely for her posting it. Once Pete and the boys had "finished" their questionnaires, I just had to turn it into a story.

 

Pete walked into the conference room with the brochures and questionnaires in his hand.  His discussions with his people out in the field had not gone well, and now, he had to face the folks here.  He wondered if he should go out of the office and call back on his cellphone to give them the news.  He'd probably be safer that way, but no, he would face them.  It was only fair that they get a chance to throw things at him. 

 

But it was a good idea, damn it!  Some of these people barely knew one another, after all, and that was hardly good if they ever had to trust each other out in the field.  Sure, the "home office" guys knew one another.  They were all close, in fact.  However, in the field, they too would occasionally have to turn to someone unfamiliar for backup. 

 

Sometimes, he wondered about the efficiency of the Agency's structure.  Permanent assignments in world power centers and small groups of operatives spread out here and there were the best way to keep from attracting unwanted attention though.  But it did leave him and his men often depending on virtual strangers.  This team-building weekend would hopefully remedy that. 

 

He looked down at the brochures and questionnaires again as his friends and employees filed into the room, talking to each other and greeting him.  He smiled at them and gestured to the seats around the table.

 

"Oh, this must be important!  We're all sitting at the table today," Jesse joked.

 

Pete chuckled.

 

"Which strange third world country with giant mosquitoes and huge political problems are we off to now?"  Kit asked as he sat down.

 

"Georgia."

 

"As in former Soviet Georgia?  Which country did that end up in after the split?" Frank asked.

 

"I think it ended up its own country or something," Rico told him.  "Don't mean I want to go there either way."

 

"No, as in down south of us Georgia, good ole' U.S. of A."  Pete ignored them and started moving around the table, handing them each one of the questionnaires that the seminar people had sent.  "We're going on a team-building weekend, gentlemen."

 

Frank looked at the paper in his hand as though it were a snake.  "Have you lost your mind?" he nearly screeched, an odd sound coming from the huge Italian mountain of a man.

 

"No, Frances, I have very good and sane reasons for this.  Just take a few minutes to read the brochure and fill out these questionnaires, will you?  When you're done, just come in and drop them on my desk."  He finished handing out the questionnaires and brochures.  Perhaps after they read the brochure they might understand a little better.  Okay, maybe not, he thought, as the eyes of his men followed him as he rounded the table to his starting point.  "Look, guys, we're going to be there with several other offices.  We're going to get to know some of the other people that work for the Agency so that the next time we have to go into the field with other operatives from those offices we won't have complete strangers guarding our backs.  Okay?"  He didn't wait for a reply.  Instead, he retreated to his office to fill out his own questionnaire.

 

A few minutes later, he was beginning to wonder if maybe Frank was right.  Maybe he had lost his mind.  As he began to answer the questions, he realized that while it sounded great in the brochure, some of the things they were asking were going to be sort of problematic for his people.  And himself, of course. 

 

When he was less than halfway through, Van walked purposefully into his office, tossed his questionnaire on Pete's desk, and left without a word.  Pete frowned and picked it up.  Van could not have written much to be done so quickly.  He read:

 

Name: Van

Occupation: Don't ask; don't tell.

Rank (if applicable): Don't make me laugh

Nickname: Van

Parent closest to as a child: My parents are dead.  Thanks for the reminder.

Siblings: none

Most embarrassing moment: Butt out.

Skill that is not generally known: origami.  Happy?

Most interesting New Year's Eve: Every one I spent living on the streets.  Try that for interesting.  God, you people have no idea.

Pet Peeve: stupid, babbling people

Favorite thing about best friend: he doesn't babble

Something that you are better at than anyone else: You don't need to know.

Favorite form of exercise: don't need to know that either.

Adjective that describes you that begins with one of your initials: vengeful

After reviewing your answers, in 25 words or less, describe yourself: Van

 

"Oh, good grief," Pete sighed.  He should have expected something like this from Van Tyler.  The man was an enigma, and he carefully guarded himself against prying eyes, ears, or otherwise.  No one would ever completely know Van.  Not even David who had become his best friend.  Pete really didn't blame Van either.  Given his background, well, again, Pete should have expected what he saw before him.

 

But Van knew how to do origami?  What a weird and unexpected thing to find out.  Pete smiled.  He'd have to ask for a demonstration one day.  Even as he put down Van's questionnaire, Alex walked in and held his out for inspection.  Pete took it cautiously as the scowl on Alex's face told him more than he wanted to know about what Alex thought of this exercise.

 

"And don't even think about complaining about it," he warned then exited quickly.

 

Pete watched him go then looked at the paper in his hand.  Written there in Alex's neat but choppy handwriting was an even more vague picture than the one Van's words had drawn.  In fact, if Alex were not so meticulous with his writing, he would have been done before Van.  The questionnaire read:

 

Name: Alexander Michael Morrow

Occupation: private investigator

Rank (if applicable): classified

Nickname: Alex

Parent closest to as a child: father

Siblings: none

Most embarrassing moment: none of your business

Skill that is not generally known: none of your business

Most interesting New Year's Eve: see above

Pet Peeve: filling out inane questionnaires for people who have no business sticking their noses into my business

Favorite thing about best friend: his loyalty

Something that you are better at than anyone else: none of your business

Favorite form of exercise: at the risk of being redundant, none of you business

Adjective that describes you that begins with one of your initials: meticulous

After reviewing your answers, in 25 words or less, describe yourself: This too is yet again, none of your business.

 

Well, the meticulous part was right.  It was what Pete had just been thinking.  So Alex knew himself pretty well, Pete guessed.  However, he seemed to be determined that no one else would know him very well.  Pete frowned.  Apparently, this was going to an exercise in frustration and futility.

 

Pete was nothing, if not determined himself, though.  He turned back to his own questionnaire.  "My most embarrassing moment?  Why the hell should I tell them that?"  Well, so far the others had written exactly what they thought, so he would to.  He was about to write more than he should about his best friend when David entered.  Unobtrusively, he slipped the paper on the corner of Pete's desk and was gone before Pete could say anything. 

 

Of course, Pete's curiosity had him once again putting his own paper aside to read David's.  It was a little more like what the team-building folks might be looking for with these.

 

Name: David Jonathan Solomon

Occupation: private investigator

Rank (if applicable): left that behind on the force

Nickname: David

Parent closest to as a child: father

Siblings: brother, Daniel Elijah Solomon

Most embarrassing moment: failing my motorcycle test the first time

Skill that is not generally known: racing motorcycles, obviously I passed the test the second time around

Most interesting New Year's Eve: Can't pick one, I was a cop.  Every New Year's Eve is interesting when you're a cop.

Pet Peeve: corrupt cops

Favorite thing about best friend: He's good backup and despite a horrible childhood, he's still a good person.  Sort of, anyway.

Something that you are better at than anyone else: dealing with Van's temper

Favorite form of exercise: does motorcycle racing count?

Adjective that describes you that begins with one of your initials: dedicated, or maybe diligent

After reviewing your answers, in 25 words or less, describe yourself: Why do I feel like I'm in one of those 12-step self-help programs?  Well, my name is David, and I'm an ex-cop.  I've been recovering for about 4 years.  Hell, I don't know how to answer this.  Did anyone else answer this one?

 

Boy, was he right about being the only one that could control Van when he got on a tear!  The day David decided to befriend Van was a banner day indeed.  Van was much easier to deal with now than he had been in the beginning.  At least the man was a little more civilized.  He was still contemplating that when Kit walked in.  The look of disapproval on his face, while not as scathing as Alex's, was just as evident.

 

"These people are idiots, Pete.  This thing was stupid."  He started back out the door even before the paper settled on Pete's desk.  "Oh," he said as he stopped and turned around, "Jesse seems to be writing a freaking book in there.  Have fun."  Then he disappeared.

 

"Great!" Pete remarked sarcastically as he picked up Kit's questionnaire.  He had to laugh a few times as he read:

 

Name: Steven MacKenzie Chase

Occupation: freelance photographer

Rank (if applicable): definitely not applicable

Nickname: Kit

Parent closest to as a child: Grandfather.  That count?

Siblings: none

Most embarrassing moment: Getting caught with Sara Two Feathers under the bleachers when I was 15.  I cannot believe I'm telling you this.

Skill that is not generally known: I refuse to answer that on the grounds that I may incriminate myself.

Most interesting New Year's Eve: senior year, college, me, two friends, a bottle of Jack and three cheerleaders.  Enough said.

Pet Peeve: bigotry

Favorite thing about best friend: He can hack—never mind.

Something that you are better at than anyone else: This is just too close to bragging.  Sorry.

Favorite form of exercise: yoga and meditation.  Don't tell me it ain't exercise.

Adjective that describes you that begins with one of your initials: spiritual

After reviewing your answers, in 25 words or less, describe yourself: Do you realize how ludicrous it is to expect someone to define himself in 25 words or less?  You can't measure a life that way.  It cheapens it, reduces it to a commercial blurb.  Have you no respect for human life and experience?  I will not even attempt this because I am more than a blurb, a blip on a screen.  My life has more meaning than that.

 

So Kit nearly blurted out Jesse's unique talent too.  Now he didn't feel so bad.  He'd have to get rid of those little accidents before he sent the papers in though.  He'd get Kit to write another answer as soon as he found some white-out.  And naturally, Kit was not thrilled about the last question.  Kit, the spiritualist, would not like the idea of life described in 25 words or less.  Kit couldn't manage to describe the life of that squirrel Pete had accidentally run over the week before in 25 words or less much less a human life.  Before the man finally fell silent that day, Pete was actually feeling quite guilty for not killing he and Kit both in an attempt to save one little squirrel with too little sense than to get out of the way.  Pete sighed. 

 

Truthfully, Pete had to admit, his was not looking much better.  He put Kit's paper down and picked his own up from the desk.  "No witnesses," he read.  That had always been his motto.  Or one of them, anyway.  The other being, "The end does indeed justify the means."

 

Okay, so Jesse was writing a book, but what was taking Frank and Rico so long?  He didn't have to contemplate Rico for long as the very thought of him seemed to conjure him up at the door.  He was grinning like a jackass eating briars, as Darrien would say.

 

"You asked for it, boss man."  The paper was presented like a papal decree to the pope for his final approval.  "I was tempted to provide details but I refrained."  One more grin and a sly wink and Rico was gone. 

 

Pete was almost afraid to look.  Of all his men, Rico was the most prone to both practical jokes and shocking honesty.  He'd say and do anything, damn the tsunami that followed and the people left clamoring for lifeboats.  Finally, he reached for the paper.

 

Name: Jerrico Jerome Gabriel

Occupation: private investigator

Rank (if applicable):

Nickname: Rico

Parent closest to as a child: mother

Siblings: four sisters

Most embarrassing moment: never been embarrassed

Skill that is not generally known: that would be x-rated.  Ask my old ladies.

Most interesting New Year's Eve: looking for a bomb in Times Square.  You asked.

Pet Peeve: getting arrested for the way I look

Favorite thing about best friend: he bails me out of jail

Something that you are better at than anyone else: Ask my old ladies.

Favorite form of exercise: Ask my old ladies

Adjective that describes you that begins with one of your initials: Ask my old ladies.

After reviewing your answers, in 25 words or less, describe yourself: A player and my mother's son.

 

Okay, it could have been worse, he supposed.  In fact, it was rather mild, considering what Rico was capable of given the chance.  Thank God, he had refrained.  The most shocking thing was the plural, ladies.  "Rico, Rico, Rico.  One day, you are going to "bobbitted," and I am going to say I told you so."

 

"Told who so?" Jesse asked as he entered.

 

"Just Rico, being Rico.  You know how he is.  Got yours ready?"

 

"Yeah, good ol' Rico voted by his classmates 'Most Likely to be Killed by a Woman.'  And yeah, here this thing is.  Take it.  That last one was kinda hard.  I didn't like it.  Bet Kit bitched."  He handed the paper off to Pete.

 

"Yes, he did."

 

"Pete, are we really going to do this crap?"

 

"I don't know, Jess.  Thus far, the responses have not been promising, and some of this stuff we really can't answer without way too many questions being asked.  I'm thinking."

 

"Fair enough.  See ya."

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"We decided that if we had to do this stupid questionnaire then we were taking off for the rest of the day.  We're heading out to play soccer on the Mall.  Wanna come?"

 

"Maybe.  Is Frank about done in there?  What is taking him so long?"

 

"I don't know, but he was laughing his ass off the whole time he was writing, and now he just keeps reading it over and over, while he hums and snickers."

 

"Wonderful.  A Comedian.  I can't wait to see this one.  Thanks for the warning, Jess."

 

"Sure."  Jesse headed for the door.

 

"Oh, and don't let him fall on you if he's playing.  I'd prefer you unbroken, thank you."

 

"Hey, no worries, man.  I know how to get the hell out of the way."

 

"Hope you're faster than that squirrel then," Pete muttered as Jesse bounded out the door.  Frank was by no means fat.  The man was just huge.  He was well over six feet and nearly three hundred pounds of solid brick hard muscle.  Jess was fast, though.  And Frank would be careful.  He knew his own strength and mass.

 

Putting the soccer game out of his mind, he looked down at Jess's questionnaire.  It read:

 

Name: Jesse James Riviera

Occupation: computer programmer

Rank (if applicable): That's a laugh!  Me, in like the army or something? Too funny.

Nickname: Jess—then Pete calls me his little computer geek.  I think I maybe should probably kick his ass for it, but he doesn't mean anything by it.

Parent closest to as a child:  My mom, I guess.  No, my dad.  I love them both, okay?  Can't choose.

Siblings: 4 sisters- Magdalena, Angelica, Maria-Theresa, Catalina.  I'm the youngest.

Most embarrassing moment: You so do not need to know that!

Skill that is not generally known: I can hack into any com—never mind.

Most interesting New Year's Eve: There was the time that me and Kit were on the res visiting his granddad and I tried peyote—Man, the fireworks were freaky then!  Of course, Pete threatened to hang me up by my toes if I did that again.  Come to think of it, Kit yelled at me too.

Pet Peeve: bullies

Favorite thing about best friend: He is so cool!  He's all spiritual and stuff.  You know, visions and spirit guides, things like that.  But at the same time, he's down to earth. 

Something that you are better at than anyone else: I'm really not supposed to tell.  Sorry.

Favorite form of exercise: surfing

Adjective that describes you that begins with one of your initials: Radical

After reviewing your answers, in 25 words or less, describe yourself: Boy, I bet Kit gives you hell for this one!  Okay, I'll try.  Disregard the above and start my 25 words now:

I'm a Hispanic American.  Then again, that's just a label.  That's not really everything I am.  Okay, try again.  Can I start over?  Okay, here goes:

This is too hard!  According to Pete, I'm a Dudley-Do-Right little computer geek.  Kit says I'm some sort of keeper of laws and justice.  I like that one.  Alex says I'm a pain in his ass, but I swear, I've never touched his ass.  He's just too damn serious.  Van says I'm noisy and hyper.  But I say he's too quiet and still in my opinion.  It's almost freaky, I swear.  And David—but that's not answering the question and it's way over 25 words.  Okay one more time:

I'm Jesse James Riviera, computer geek, son of Rosa and Miguel, Kit's best friend, and a good person.  Those are the things I'm proudest of.  There, 25 exactly!

 

Pete was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes by the time he finished reading.  Jess wrote exactly like he talked.  He rambled.  Jess could turn a simple explanation into a novel length dissertation if you let him.  And funny!  Without even meaning to be, the boy was hysterical.  He was still laughing when Frank walked in.

 

The big man snickered even as he put the paper on Pete's desk, then he all but ran for the door.  Pete watched him go, suspiciously.  He grabbed up the paper.

 

Name: Frances Giovanni Catello

Occupation: Private investigator

Rank: Captain(Army)

Nickname: Frank

Parent closest to: Father

Siblings: Six, three sisters, three brothers

Most embarrassing moment: Pete has apparently lost his mind, do-da, do-da

Skill not generally known: Pete has really lost his mind

Most interesting New Year's Eve: Oh, da-do-da-day!

Pet Peeve: Oh, da-do-da-day!  I should get more pay!

Favorite thing about best friend: Pete has really lost his mind!

Something you do better than anyone else: OH, da-do

Favorite form of exercise: Da-day!

Adjective that describes you that start with one of your initials: Thank you!  Thank you very much!

After reviewing your answers, describe yourself in 25 words or less:  Tell you what, ask my ex-wife or her therapist.  They apparently know me much better than I do.  Pete, tell me, you aren't serious.

 

He tried not to smile.  He tried to be furious, but as he looked at his own questionnaire again, he just had to admit gracious and humorous defeat.  Just leave it to Frank.  The man had him. 

 

Pete opened his email program and typed out a quick email to all the other Agency offices.  After he hit send, he took his questionnaire out to the old cork bulletin board and posted it there.  He'd seen theirs; it was only fair they see his.  He'd give them their own back if they wanted them.  If they didn't, he'd do exactly what he'd told the other offices to do: file them, file 13.  Team-building weekends were for normal people.  His people were far from normal, yet they suited him just fine.  He was going to play soccer.

 

 

"Hey, guys, look at this!"  Jesse got everyone's attention and they huddled around the bulletin board.  Pete's questionnaire read:

 

Name: Peter Julian Devereaux

Occupation: private investigator

Rank (if applicable):out of the army for years, rank means nothing

Nickname: Pete

Parent closest to as a child: neither

Siblings: one sister, no, I won't tell her name

Most embarrassing moment: Just why would I tell anybody this?  Why do you even want to know?

Skill that is not generally known: If I told you, I'd have to kill you.  I have a strict motto: No witnesses.

Most interesting New Year's Eve: Am I supposed to answer this legibly?  Don't think I can.  I'd be laughing too hard.

Pet Peeve: Bureaucrats

Favorite thing about best friend: He can hack into—never mind.

Something that you are better at than anyone else: No way am I answering this.  Refer back to the "no witnesses" motto, please.

Favorite form of exercise: That would entail dirt and sweat.  No thanks.

Adjective that describes you that begins with one of your initials: Practical

After reviewing your answers, in 25 words or less, describe yourself: This is a joke, right?  25 words or less to describe myself? I only need one, well, two, well, one's a contraction so I suppose technically that would be three.  I'm me.  Uh-oh, that was over 25 words.  Sue me.  I have good lawyers.

 

Then down at the very bottom they read, "We are a team.  Screw this.  Thanks for not strangling me."  Pete's barely legible signature was under that.

 

"Pete!  You found your mind, buddy!  Welcome back!" Frank boomed.

 

Pete was leaning in the doorway to his office.  "Yeah, you may have broken my ribs yesterday, but maybe you knocked some sense into me.  Now, let's get to work, people!"

 

Van ambled over to him.  "Do that again, and I will strangle you."

 

Pete laughed, but looked to David for reassurance of a rescue.  David only shrugged.  He looked to Kit then.

 

"Don't look at me, man.  I'll help him."

 

"Alex?"

 

Alex threw up his hands and turned to the coffee pot.

 

"Geez, guys, it was just an idea."

 

"You've had better," Kit said.

 

"Yeah, but that's not saying much.  This is Pete we're talking about here," Rico remarked, grinning.

 

"No fair, ganging up on Pete."  Jesse stepped in front of his boss.

 

"Thank you, Jess." 

 

"He can't help it if he's challenged."

 

"Hey!"

 

"Don't worry, I'll save you from those meanies.  Wanna cookie?" Jesse patted him on the head.

 

"I'm going to kill the whole lot of you and be done with it.  No, better yet, I'll call my sister and let her take care of the whole lot of you.  See how you like those apples."

 

The sudden scattering was satisfying.  Mumbles of "gotta a lot of work to do," "need to get that paperwork done," "didn't we have an errand," and "forgot my lunch in the car," were music to his otherwise abused ears.  The mere mention of Darrien did it every time.  Suddenly, Pete found himself wondering what Darrien's questionnaire would have looked like.  But, he was no fool.  If he ever even suggested it, he'd be eating it without ketchup.  Nope, he wasn't risking that.  He loved his sister, but damn, she was kind of scary sometimes.  He laughed and wandered back to his desk.  He leaned back in his big leather chair and just enjoyed the momentary silence.