As I walked into the shooting range I noticed a stocky guy standing by two shooting tables. Beyond him was a vast open area filled with shooting lanes and multiple silhouette targets placed on a rail system. Each target was placed at different staggered distances and nothing was in perfect alignment with the other. Off on the far-left side of the shooting lane area were targets which were both stood upright and placed on the floor.

　　I couldn`t tell what material they were made of, but there was a significant number of targets all placed closely together. As I proceeded further into the area, I noticed other objects strewn all around them. Barrels and crates, safety cones, giant shipping boxes and containers. Everything seemed to be purposefully placed and exactly as intended. I guessed that Jack had either been setting up the course of fire that I was looking at or was perhaps about to go through it himself.

　　As I closed the distance between Jack and I, he turned to me with a big smile. He was wearing some black converse styled shoe, which matched his coyote tan tactical pants. The design and stitching of the pants left me with the though that the pants were personalized and made specifically for him. I wouldn`t have been surprised to have found out that scalpel had an in-house tailor to design items specifically for operations.

　　An athletic cut, grey t-shirt draped over his waistline and I couldn`t help but chuckle at the cartoonish image of a distorted pear fruit, blown up on his chest area which read, "Grow a pear&"

　　Jack looked down and smiled a little more, "Like that?"

　　I let out a light laugh, "That`s fucking awesome."

　　"Yeah& my old LEO buddy started his own apparel company and this was one of the few shirts I thought was worthy enough to be worn. I also wanted to support him you know?"

　　"FYF incorporated huh?" I nodded towards his sleeve as I noticed the brand logo.

　　"Yeah& fuck your feelings incorporated. I don`t think he knows what it means to be incorporated, pretty sure he just added that for the way it made the name sound."

　　"Classic, be sure to send me a link to that shirt and I`ll be sure to pick one up. Maybe even wear it on one of my ops."

　　Jack`s eyebrows shot up and he gritted his teeth with a hesitant smirk, "Well that would be one way to draw all the attention onto you."

　　"Yeah, you`re probably right& Still, would love to add it to the collection."

　　"Will do man" Jack said as he smiled, outstretched his hand and as I clasped it, he held on and brought me into a side bro hug embrace.

　　Jack had a light brown, well-manicured beard and short light brown hair that I could just make out sticking out from underneath his Oregon Ducks ballcap. As I pulled back from his embrace, I couldn`t help the feeling that I had just hugged a granite boulder. My eyes caught the personal workout setup that Jack had apparently built in the far back corner of the room.

　　As I ended my embrace of the solid block of rock, I met his brown eyes staring back at me. How the hell are all these guys down here so fucking strong? It was seriously like being alongside some silver back gorillas who were clearly superior to me as they lived and breathed this shit, twenty-four fucking seven.

　　"Brian already gave me the back brief on the head chip shit and all that other stuff. So, since we`re having to go back to basics, we might as well& start and try to get you back up to speed."

　　"Yeah& some of the old stuff is coming back. The military days, my neighborhood. Shit like that, but it`s like blotches of blurred moments that jump all over the place. Is what it is." I waited till Jack turned around and began to fidget with the pistol I saw on the tall standing table next to him. I had to wave my hand vigorously to regain some feeling in it after his gorilla grip practically crushed it into submission.

　　"Glock G-17 Gen 5." He said as he started talking in a half stance, half facing the table and pistol and half facing me. "You were using Gen 3 and Gen 4. You weren`t a big fan of the Gen 4 due to the finger grooves that were on the handle, your sausage fingers didn`t really meet up well. You were adamant about wanting to still utilize the Glock`s and sense you`re the field asset, you get to decide exactly what system you want to carry. The Gen 5, if you don`t remember, has a flared mag-well and a cutout in the front of the frame which gives you a few fractions of a second when reloading. It still has the reversible magazine catch which was enlarged slightly, but you still are right-handed so it isn`t like any of that shit matters. Same thing with the slide stop lever.

　　They also adjusted their barrel rifling and the crown of the barrel which has now increased precision slightly. As you know though, it really all comes down to your fundamentals and ensuring you maintain proper finger-trigger placement, breathing, target acquisition, sight picture, weapon drive& all that fun stuff we get to start again& at& level one." I could see the smile on Jack`s face, but the sarcastic tone of his voice was certainly there.

　　"Again, you mostly operate the 9x19mm caliber for your pistol preference, the Glock is still a safe action system found on the trigger. Magazine capacity is set at the standard 17, but we also have the extended magazines for the 19, 24, 31, and 33, configurations. All of your gear and outfits were formed around the 17 mag system, so if you choose that you want to move up, get with the supply staff and they`ll help you reconfigure your setup. Your full weight with loaded magazine is 945 grams, or 33.33 oz`s. An overall length of 7.95 inches. Your operations weapon system does have a modified trigger pull, but seeing how we must go back over fundamentals, I have a new out-of-the-box pistol for you to train back on and grow your skill level back up."

　　"Sounds good to me, when do we start?"

　　"Now& load up your magazines."

　　I looked down at the table and noticed damn near close to 50 individual pistol magazines were laid out on the platform table. "Holy fuck! Are we really loading up all these mags?"

　　"We? & No, no, no, YOU& You are loading up all those mags." Jack nodded towards me with a smile.

　　"We`re going to use all of those mags?"

　　"Not all at once, but you know what would be beneficial?"

　　"What`s that?"

　　"If you`d shut the fuck up and follow instructions, everything has a reason and a purpose."

　　I clenched my jaw slightly as I nodded with a smug grin. fuck& I walked right into that one. I looked over to see the 17 boxes of 9mm ammunition stacked up in one massive block. I grabbed the first one and popped open the box, bringing the tray of rounds out as each one greeted me with their glistening shine from their brass casings. I noticed the rounds were a full metal jacket, also commonly known as ball ammunition and was what I remembered personally utilizing for target practice whenever I would go shooting out in the woods prior to me joining Scalpel.

　　I let out a long breathe as I knew& I fucking knew& I had loaded magazines hundreds, fuck, more than likely even thousands of times throughout my career and time spent shooting on my own, and yet, here I am doing it all, over, again& "Can we at least get some fucking jams playing?"

　　"If I wanted to be nagged, I would have just brought my wife to work B2!" Came Jack`s yell, but I could still make out an audible laugh coming out of him as he couldn`t contain his laughter either.

　　It was only a few seconds later before I heard the sweet sound of that rolling guitar for the first thirteen seconds, before the band came rolling in with that beat thumping away on that bass drum as Parkway Drive`s song "Prey" came blasting over the speakers which I noticed were mounted high above on the concrete ceiling.

　　The room began to reverberate as the hardened surfaces only amplified the acoustics and I got to enjoy my own simulated rock fest. My thumbs pressed away on each fucking round of ammunition as I slid them inside, their magazine follower welcomed them as I did. I didn`t keep track of the time, but thankfully the music kept me entertained and I zoned out as I performed the mundane task. I just kept plugging away without stopping until I had finished loading up the entire mag collection.

　　I noticed a large 50 gal trash can placed directly behind the table area I was assigned. I dumped the empty boxes and plastic sleeves into it and upon returning to the table, the flying boxes soared directly into my HUD again. My hands latched onto the table instantly so that I could brace myself and not become disoriented like I had before.

　　\SKILL ACHIEVED: LOADING - LEVEL 1/

　　\SKILL ACHIEVED: LOADING - LEVEL 2/

　　I was starting to get a lot better at the mental, clicking of buttons, as I almost automatically selected yes without even having to read over the prompt and noticed my Loading skill achievement made it to Level 1 and 2. It was the next set of prompts, however, that really left me a little baffled and a little annoyed for sure, but curious as to what exactly it all meant and how it would help me.

　　>>CLOAKED ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: BASIC BITCH - LEVEL 1<<

　　>>CLOAKED ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: BASIC BITCH - LEVEL 2<<

　　This whole concept was still foreign, but I did ponder the curious thought as to how my previous self, first responded to all this stuff. I mean, it felt like it was all new to me, but it wasn`t, it was all missing inside my brain somewhere. At least, that was how I thought regarding the matter.

　　My thoughts and reflection was all cut short as I started to notice Jack was walking back towards me. A glass of what I was pretty sure was whiskey in his hand. He took a sip of his drink as he looked down at the table and nodded his head upwards, "Good job there buddy, if you clean your room you can have ice cream after dinner and maybe even watch some looney toons. You fucking clown."

　　The smile on his face and gave me the inkling that the banter was common practice between the two of us. The only advantage though was that Jack had context, and I had no idea how I could poke jabs back at him on. Sooner or later though, I`ll find that pinhole of an opportunity, and would happily exploit it.

　　I looked up at him as he closed the distance, "Daddy, why is it every time you go to work the mailman comes by and helps momma lick postage stamps in your bedroom? Or& maybe it`s he, licks her& stamp&"

　　Jack turned his free hand upwards with a beautifully full torqued middle finger, "Fuck you& and last time I checked, basic bitches learn really quickly what happens when they try to play games with the big boys." His eyebrows were raised and the serious tone in his voice made it crystal fucking clear that I taken the banter to a level I was not really ready for. Jack slightly turned his head and I could hear the slight audible pop in his neck occur immediately after.

　　He nodded his head up and dashed his eyes over behind me. I turned around enough to see a wrestling mat area off to the side of the corner. Of fucking course he has a torture mat inside the shooting range. "Whenever you want to be reminded of your basic-bitch status, you let me know sporty spice& I love to play games& all day long."

　　Well& that settles that, I was in no way, shape or form ready to fully test out, or even attempt to go toe to toe with Jack, or Bill for that matter. Even if it was a friendly spar session or skills test. Lesson learned, I was still the low guy on the totem pole, regardless of where I use to be prior to my memory and skill progression wipe.

　　"You know& Now that I think about it, the big guy upstairs really wants me to get my skills back up, and it`d be a real& real, fucking tragedy if anything held that up. So, we should probably just get back to the task at hand." I finished off with a smug look on my face.

　　"You`re such a genius B2& Honestly& I don`t know why you aren`t running scalpel yourself by now."

　　"Fucking crazy to think about, isn`t it?" Jack`s eyes, narrowed down at me with a look that the fuse was getting shorter and shorter. "Anyways& so, I loaded the mags, threw away the others shit, what do you want me to do now."

　　"Weapon Drive."

　　"Uhm& what?"

　　Jack smiled and pointed with his whiskey glass to the next table over which had a pistol holster. We started to walk over to the table, and I noticed the Glock G17 was resting there directly next to the hard polymer holster. The holster looking identical to the one I had used personally. "Go ahead and ready up." I reached down, took hold of the pistol and going over my safety checks to ensure that there was nothing down the barrel, or ammunition, and confirmed it was a completely safe weapon system.

　　As I did this Jack continued, "For our training we utilize the Blackhawk Serpa holster system. Once you`re ready to get back out into the field you`ll see your previous rig and setup was one that has slight variations that you had supply modify for you. But it`s so similar to the traditional Serpa system that we just maintain these for your training. Additionally, right beside the holster you`ll see a training magazine. Go ahead and load that in when you`re ready."

　　I looked at the dummy magazine and it looked exactly like the real thing, except the rounds within the magazine tube were all a solid block of a red plastic substance. The plastic was molded to look like real rounds but were all a giant block so that no one individual round could be loaded into the chamber of the weapon system.

　　I grabbed hold of the magazine but gave a confused face to Jack, who immediately titled his head and arched his eyebrows as he instantly took my reaction as a challenge to his training regimen. I held out my hand in defense, "Okay, okay." I loaded the magazine into the Glock, depressed the release and sent the slide punching forward. I inserted the handgun into the holster that I had secured on my waist belt. Jack walked me into the actual shooting lanes but over to the right-side area.

　　He led me to a point where he had a few targets stands posted upright. A metal H base plate with wooden 2x4 beams standing upright as they sat in the center of the base plate. A piece of plywood connected to the stands together with while paper targets stapled at their center. There were seven targets total, all forming a semi-circle where I was at the center of the radius. The targets appeared to all be positioned at exact measurements from the other.

　　"Stand here." Jack pointed at a taped squire on the floor. "Ready stance, remember that?"

　　"Not really, at least, the way you taught it, but this is how I normally would stand from my past knowledge that I can actually recall." I stood with my feet slightly apart, my left roughly three to four inches in front of the right, which was slightly a half foot behind my shoulders linear line. A practically identical stance to the one utilized in combatives with Bill. The stances so similar that I remember often training and utilizing the same stance when I was training in the military.

　　"Yup, that`s it." Jack then squared himself off with me. "Go ahead, draw, and acquire your target and take aim at it, finger off trigger, but ready to engage."

　　I depressed the trigger release on my Serpa holster as the rest of my fingers wrapped around the studded handle. As soon as I felt the textured grip I felt this cool sensation flow over me, as if I was gripping the handshake of an old friend who I had missed dearly but didn`t know it until that precise moment. I began to pull my pistol out of its holster, and as soon as I did, I titled the barrel forward as I rotated the pistol up towards the target, and then brought the pistol up at a vertical forty-five degree angle.

　　My left hand came across my body and met the other in a clasping embrace around the pistol handle. I locked onto my target and instantly began to tilt my head down, my left eye closing as my dominant eye took notice of the round white dot of the front sight and brought it into crystal clear focus as the target began to blur in the background. My trigger finger running down and along the side of the polymer lower frame, feeling its` slight texture.

　　My nerves seemed to dance with excitement as an itch towards lowering my trigger finger down and engaging the muscles required to pull the trigger back. It was as if a gleeful demon was whispering in my thoughts, telling me, let me hear the sweet melody that only comes from black powder and lead. I smirked, this felt awesome, and my spirit started to warm inside as I felt like I was back in my element, exactly where I belonged. Training my hands for what they were made for& war.

　　The small blotches of my memories started to expand, grow, and come back clearer in my mind. My stroll down memory lane and nostalgia came to a quick fucking end as I heard Jack start his corrections.

　　"Wrong." He said.

　　I lowered my pistol and position somewhat as I then gave him my attention. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

　　"Go back to the beginning." He instructed.

　　I put my pistol back in the holster.

　　"You started out good, go back to your initial draw."

　　I depressed the lever, releasing the pistol into my hand as I began my initial pull and tilted the barrel forward.

　　"Stop. Perfect. Now." Jack turned a 180 degrees around and was now facing me, his hand forming into the shape of a, hand gun, and started in the same position I was in. "Keep the barrel pointed directly towards your target, bring the weapon straight up to your center chest area." Jack brought his hand gun up the side of his obliques and began to arch upwards towards his center, his thumb glided across his pecks and finally stopped directly over his sternum.

　　"Your left hand in unison is matching the right and should meet your weapon system at this apex of the center. Here is your second position. Your first position is rotating your pistol towards the target, the second is here. Wherever your head goes, the barrel should follow." Jack tilted his head to the left, his index finger acting as the barrel followed the direction, his hand titling in unison with his head as he then rotated over to the right side.

　　"Now granted, your grip is going to be semi-broken during this rotation and movement, that is okay, the fact is that led downrange first wins. Statistically, he who fires first, wins. So fucking win!" Jack said with emphasis added on the end.

　　"This is my platform, this is my stance, this is how I will forever move and engage as a baseline. especially& starting back out, we will get to advanced tactics later, but for now, this platform is where you start and begin and we will build from here." Jack then squared back up, his hand handgun still on top of his sternum.

　　"The barrel is facing straight ahead where my target is, I then punch out, and move to my final position where my head, does not move! My head stays still, straight, and directly on target. As I present my weapon, I bring the sights to my eye and never bring my head or eyes down to it." Jack was then standing with his arms extended directly out in front of him. "We call this a platform because this is the same platform you`ll utilize when you have a rifle system."

　　Jack bent over and placed his whiskey glass down on the concrete floor. As he stood back up straight, he adjusted to ensure he was back properly in his ready stance, his hands flattened themselves with a slight bend around the fingers, his thumbs slightly separated. The form almost looking like a traditional martial arts film, but instead of the palms of the hands facing upwards and towards the opponent, they were facing the center sternum line. The left hand was extended out further than his right hand and I could see he was pretending to hold a rifle system similar to that of an M4 carbine, which I was use to.

　　"Alright, I have the butt of the rifle in my shoulder socket on my right side, right?" Jacks left hand pointed up to his right shoulder, and then pointed to his right hand, "Right hand on the weapon system pistol grip." He then returned his left hand to the extended front position. "Left hand around rail system, driving the weapon forward. If you see, my left arm, is creating the same angle as it was with the pistol. My head is not leaning downward, it is maintaining the direct straight line and my eyes are straight on target."

　　As he said it, I narrowed in and noticed that he was doing exactly what he said and was maintaining his head directly straight forward and ensured he didn`t angle it at all as he continued.

　　"So, I rotate my rifle system down." He twisted his hands 45 degrees to their left side. "So now the weapon system is out of my main view, so I scan my area for threats as I clear the building. The barrel is still facing straight ahead and can engage, if I need to. Once I see my target, and identify it, I rotate up to engage. If I need to, I can start sending led downrange because the barrel is always where my eyes are."

　　Jack then lowered his hands but maintained his ready stance, "Shit! I`m out, I have no more rounds for my primary system, I am switching to my secondary system." Jack said as he simulated the act and progressed through the motions. He maintained his posture like a stone statue but his hands moved down and began to hoist the pistol upwards in the same manner he had just displayed moments before. Punching his hands forward, "See? My hands are forming the same triangular angle, my head remains exactly in place the entire time with little to no movement, for the only thing they focus on is the target, I force the weapon to work within my platform and my system, not the other way around." Jack relaxed and leaned over to grab his whiskey. Standing back up, "Got it?"

　　I nodded my head as I looked at the targets, "Got it."

　　"Alright then. Let`s get it!"

　　I went over the training regiment for roughly three hours. Starting out excruciatingly slow and progressing in a methodical ease at a crawling pace until I felt I was truly meeting the intent of the training. As I finished the flashing icons started to appear, as they now were becoming something I really loved seeing, for every time I saw them, I knew it was helping me progress even faster than having to start all the way at the beginning. So, I welcomed every one of them.

　　\SKILL ACHIEVED: TARGET ACQUISITION - LEVEL 1/

　　\SKILL ACHIEVED: TARGET ACQUISITION - LEVEL 2/

　　\SKILL ACHIEVED: SIGHT ALIGNMENT - LEVEL 1/

　　\SKILL ACHIEVED: SIGHT ALIGNMENT - LEVEL 2/

　　\SKILL ACHIEVED: SIGHT PICTURE - LEVEL 1/

　　\SKILL ACHIEVED: SIGHT PICTURE - LEVEL 2/

　　\SKILL ACHIEVED: TRIGGER DISCIPLINE - LEVEL 1/

　　\SKILL ACHIEVED: TRIGGER DISCIPLINE - LEVEL 2/

　　[|]WEAPON SKILL PROGRESSION: HANDGUNS - LEVEL 1 [|]

　　[|]WEAPON SKILL PROGRESSION: HANDGUNS - LEVEL 2 [|]

　　[|]WEAPON SKILL PROGRESSION: HANDGUNS \ SUBSKILL SEMI-AUTO - LEVEL 1 [|]

　　[|]WEAPON SKILL PROGRESSION: HANDGUNS \ SUBSKILL SEMI-AUTO - LEVEL 2 [|]

　　>>CLOAKED ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: BOY SCOUT - LEVEL 1<<

　　>>CLOAKED ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: BOY SCOUT - LEVEL 2<<

　　"ONE DAY, I`M GONNA BE A REAL BOY!"

　　I looked over the new notification screens as they flooded into my view, as it all seemed to be pouring in all at once. The skills all seamed to make sense and having already gone through training with Bill and seeing them, my interpretation of what they meant seemed to somewhat make sense. Except for these cloaked achievements. I thought it was interesting how there were weapon skills that also had subskills like semi-auto handguns. I tried to make a mental note to engage with Brian on some of this later, hopefully he had a spreadsheet or something I could visually see. If I could really break down how this all worked and what the progression skills would be, or what all these things would work towards when it came to achievements. That would certainly help my grasp of it all.

　　I wasn`t able to think critically over it all once my attention was grabbed by the last notification which stood out to me. I mentally looked closer at it as the words appeared crystal clear as I read them.

　　>>CLOAKED ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: BOY SCOUT - LEVEL 2<<

　　"ONE DAY, I`M GONNA BE A REAL BOY!"

　　"Mother Fucker!" I mumbled under my breath directed towards Brian.

　　I clicked open my messenger icon within my mind and saw the bubble screen pop up as I mentally prepared a message and sent it to Brian. "Boy scout level 2? one day I`ll be a real boy!!! wtf Brian!?"

　　"Oh that, LOL you like that huh?" Brian messaged.

　　I was mentally pounded on my invisible keyboard. It was a tough task to grasp at first, but the more I was doing it, the easier it became. "I see someone here likes to play games& You know Brian, I also like to play games."

　　"Calm down Karen&" He replied.

　　I bit down slightly on the side of my tongue, "I dare you to say that to my face."

　　There was another pause before Brian responded. "Wait& Did you say LVL 1 and LVL 2?"

　　"Yeah, I did& I have been getting Level 2 with everything automatically as I progress through them. Why?"

　　"How have you been getting both LVL 1 and 2 at the same time?"

　　"Aren`t you the one who designed this POS chip? Aren`t you the one who is supposed to know how all this shit works!?" I huffed as soon as my message sent, shaking my head slightly as my thoughts and perception towards Brian began to lesson slightly.

　　"B2& you do realize that if you were to type on a standard sheet of paper, there would be 56 lines on that one page. If you were to write the code for an F-22 Raptor non-stop in that format, the code would be 1.7 million lines. A great way to visualize that would be to imagine a stack of papers around the average height of an American male. Now, multiply that stack of papers and place it into a grid pattern of seven across and five rows deep. Now& Facebook, the lines of code needed to keep facebook operating& that alone is 62 million lines of code. That, using the same grid pattern as before, would make the stacks of paper taller than the Statue of Liberty. Like& significantly taller, than the statue. Now& with that being said& the amount code written for your Neurochip, is roughly 93 million lines of code."

　　"Congratulations Dr. Einstein! I`m just surprised a fucking genius like you doesn`t have it down to the exact number."

　　"92,762,841." He replied.

　　Figures& "Oh so you DO know just how many lines of code there are?"

　　"Of course, I know exactly how many lines of code there are." Brian messaged.

　　"So why is my chippy-chip not working then?"

　　"I hate you&"

　　"You`re gonna hate me worse once I take a shit on your desk for these stupid comments attached to these cloaked achievement notifications." I warned.

　　Brian paused and didn`t respond right away, but I saw his dancing bubbles of activity and knew that whatever he was typing was significant. "Well it wouldn`t be the first time you`ve taken a shit on my desk& but we won`t discuss that now. But, we do need to get back on track. With everything else. The reason that this is a big deal B2& is that you were never supposed to have those codes inside your chip. The ones which gave you proficiency bonuses. That was a concept idea that I had in development, a way to help other agents progress faster in their skill development and get quicker success. They weren`t even uploaded and installed inside your neurochip."

　　I started to scratch my head as I tried my best to ponder it all. "So& how did they get in there?"

　　"That is why I am so taken back, I honestly have, wait&" The text message cut off and his response paused until he sent the next response. "Okay, the only way I can potentially guess how this would have happened, is if your previous Agent Attribute that you chose upgraded your neurochip to the point that you hacked the mainframe. If the chip did that, it potentially could have found these proficiency codes, and installed them inside its` own coding. It isn`t necessarily probable, but it is certainly possible."

　　"What do you mean Agent Attribute?"

　　I realized I had practically been standing still like a clothing mannequin that had been in a display window. As I came out of my frozen trance, I turned around to see Jack leaning against one of the shooting tables which was bolted to the floor. It looked more like a work bench / counter, his arms were crossed, and he tilted his head slightly with a small smile on his face. A look which read to me that he was a little concerned and wanted to make sure I was truly okay, but one that was also happy to mock me, in regard to the situation he had caught me in. "You okay there boy scout?"

　　"Shittt, how do you know about boy scout?" I replied back to him. Brian never answered my message back and I mentally swiped all the boxes free from my HUD display that were in my vision.

　　Jack`s face scrunched up in a confused look, "Umm, I normally call you boy scout whenever you`re down here training, why do you ask though?"

　　"Ahh, well that`s kind of ironic. I was just given these cloaked achievements in my neurochip, mind, vision& thing. It was called Boy Scout. I had just been messaging Brian about it, you know, inside my head and all."

　　Jack nodded with a smirk, "I remember Brian sending me an email shortly after you arrived and began your training with us. He specifically asked what nicknames or jokes I used with you and a few other field agents. I recall he really emphasized if there was anything that clearly got under your skin."

　　"Really& what the fuck else did you tell him?"

　　Jack undid his crossed arms and lifted his hands up in gest, "Fuck B2, I barely remember what I have for breakfast most days and you expect me to remember all the details of an email I sent well over a year ago? I know I smashed the keyboard keys for a few things, but Boy Scout is the only thing I remember for sure because I use that the most with you field agents." His tone sounded a bit defensive and I could tell my questions were beginning to irritate him.

　　I decided to probe further to gain more insight on my counterparts. "Most of the field agents, huh? So, speaking of that, exactly how many of us are there? I havn`t seen anyone else walking the halls. Has anyone else ever, you know& blank out like I did?"

　　"Fuck man&" Jack tucked his left arm up across his chest and grabbed hold of his right bicep as he tucked his thumb into his armpit area, and instead of crossing his right arm to complete the body pose, he instead extended it out and began to count on his fingers. His hand bobbing up and down slightly as he went, his hand gesture looking like it was helping him mentally swipe through photos of agent profile pictures as he went. "Mason, Jacki, James, Eric, Ryan, Angie, Ashley, That one guy from Puru, Lucas, Q, That one chick from Kansas, Mala, 13, Mike-"

　　I instantly cut him off, "Wait did you say 13? Like& the number?"

　　His faced rolled an irritated expression as if he wasn`t too fond of the thought now in his head. "Yeah& I forget what her name was before she changed it& but, 13 is this fucking psycho of a chick that was really into that fucking show on the whole upside down stuff. There was a main character that was named a number, but she also said the 13 was to represent&" He paused and dropped his head down for a brief moment, trying to get his thoughts together. " Fuck! What was it? & Something about a demon& Belphegor? Belphegor number& basically somehow the number 13 is linked to a big number that also has 666 within the center of it."

　　"She sounds like the type of crazy I would have fun with."

　　"Well I think you already locked that achievement also, because I am pretty sure you banged her on a mission."

　　"No shit?"

　　"Yeah& they made Brian give us an HR briefing on not fucking fellow agents while on mission."

　　I laughed out loud at the thought of making Brian suffer by having to give a presentation. "Did I give you any details on it?" I flared my eyebrows with a devious smile of delight on my face. Jack only gave me a dead pan face which he followed up by narrowing his gaze towards me. I was left feeling he was being tempted once again to kick my ass. "You know... now that I think about it, it`s not that important at the moment." I finished up with.

　　Jack continued after my brief interruption. "Anyways& let`s see, Mike, as I previously mentioned. Clint, Sarah, Samantha, AJ, Naga, Berry, and Booster& So that`s like& 20 maybe? At least those are the agents who normally utilize our location. I can`t say who are at the other locations. You guys do bounce around a lot these days."

　　"Other locations?" I shifted my weight and crossed my arms, now even more curious on how extensive Scalpel really was.

　　Jack raspberried as soon as I questioned it. "Uhh, yeah man, this is just one of many locations. Scalpel is a worldwide enterprise& We are just one small sliver of the pie."

　　"Well fuck a duck&" I said with a sigh.

　　"I dunno about that, but, yeah. To answer your other question though. You were the only one to ever go blank. At least, from what I`ve overheard in passing and the one or two emails I actually skimmed over before hitting the delete button. Cause, you know& emails are fucking stupid."

　　I pointed my finger at him, "Now that, we can agree on!" I let out a long exhale, "Well& there anything else you want me to work on today?"

　　"Nahh& I think you did good today, tomorrow we`ll get you to work on some more movement techniques. Unfortunately, this stuff mostly takes time. They normally want you to be at a 5-10 level in your skills before they launch you into the field to do ops. So& We`ll just work at getting you there, one step at a time."

　　"Well, I am already at level 2 in some of my skills, so that shouldn`t take long."

　　"No, no, no& You`re a level 2 in your skills, the level I am talking about is your Agent Competency Level."

　　"Jesus! Well& what the fuck is that?"

　　"Look B2, you`re gonna have to talk to Brian about all of this&" Jack let out a long breath as he just shook his head and slightly shrugged his shoulders. He looked down and I could have sworn I visibly saw his brain start to smoke. His mental gears were being worked into overdrive trying to recall the information he had clearly brain dumped a long time ago. "I know you`re currently at Novice& cause that is where all agents start out. It then goes to Apprentice, & Something about Crafting&"

　　"Craftsman?"

　　"Yeah& sure, that could be it." He nodded nonchalantly towards me.

　　"I`m guessing it would then be Journeymen after that?"

　　"Uhh& yeah, that actually is it." Jack looked at me with a tilting of his head, "Fuck! Is your memory coming back?"

　　"Well& no not really, I mean, Apprentice, Craftsman, and Journeyman are all progression levels within the Air Force. It was how we would train Airmen and track their development."

　　"Huh& well, I could easily see Brian programming it in such a way so it`d be easier for you to understand and relate to. I think you might have helped in some way regarding that, but again& check with him. But& Fuck what was it& there was like, one final level& Maestro I think it is."

　　"That seems like a weird transition to make from a terms standpoint alone."

　　"Brother& nothing in this place makes any fucking sense. You`d think an organization that has been around for a couple decades would have their shit figured out& Yeah, fuck that, this place is a plate of cluster fuck brownies filled with laxative and given to a class of kindergarteners&. There`s shit everywhere and no one wants to clean it up!"

　　I laughed at the mental image in my head Jack had just given me, as I visualized the scene. I noticed the message icon in my vision popped up, and it reminded me that I should probably go and check back in with Brian. "Alright boss, I will catch you tomorrow than and we`ll get back at it."

　　"Sounds good brother, you take it easy." Jack extended a fist towards me, and I bumped it with a fist of my own. I started to walk out when I heard his parting words from behind me. "Good to have you back B2."