We were taken to a shooting range. 30 lanes, indoors, set into the basement of the building. We were informed we had active noise canceling in our ears now, a solid reminder since my eyes were glazing over when initially told about what would be added to me by the surgeon. Sergeant Williams pulled led us each to a station where a pistol and a magazine were both laying on the bench.

  “Before each and everyone is the Omni-Corp Pharmaceuticals SSP-9. The Standard Service Pistol, chambered in 9x19 caseless, with a magazine size of 20. It has a 2kg trigger pull, is chipped so only you can fire it, and is reliable. Don't really want to be shot by your own pistol, do you? Unless otherwise stated, this is your standard issue carry. Now, I will confirm each of your serial numbers to you in, and then it is time for target practice to make sure that training chip stuck with you.”

  He went down the line, starting to my left with Max, then myself, James, and finishing with Alexander. We each dry fired to confirm we could actually pull the trigger. It was actually the first time I had ever held a gun.

  We were informed of the challenge ahead. We were to shoot at the target ahead of us, 30 meters away, 10 times in the center of 3 rings. Sergeant Williams rang turned on a timer at the end of the range, sounding for the start of the exercise. False memories took over, and I pulled the trigger. The sound of the pistol firing dampened by my new eardrums, yet still sharp. I shot again and again. And in less than 10 seconds, I had shot 10 shots.

  Our targets were brought to the benches, where Sergeant Williams collected them.

  “Alright class”, he began, “let's see the results. Clarke, clean grouping, all center of the sheet. Seems that army training held with you. Sidorkin, again very good grouping, off center, but still within the limits. Sanford, yours looks like someone put a tight choke on a shotgun, but still, passing. Duvall, you put one outside of the center ring but maybe the sights on your pistol are adjusted a little low with how low the grouping is.”

  James seemed a bit frustrated being the only one to have poor precision.

  “Anyway, kiddos, time for the next ten shots. This time, you will use your targeting computers, and see through your weapon. All weapons we use have systems to link your vision to the system. I don't know about you, but being able to fire accurately around a corner with only your arm exposed sounds pretty good to me. Just think about aiming, and it should pop up. Soon this will just be another piece of you.”

  We all went back to our benches and pinned up a new target, at which point I heard from Williams, “now this time, do it in 5 seconds.”

  I had brought up the aiming system and it felt like a piece of the false memories I had been given were completed. The start buzzer beeped and my hands took control of the situation, pulling the trigger a little under every half second. My view of the target was unobstructed able to clearly see where to hold the weapon to send the shot true, and how to move it in order to counter the recoil. It was terrifying how easy it was.

  Afterwords we did the same song and dance, brought the targets back to the bench, brought 'em to Sergeant Williams, and analyzed our results. Alexander and Maxwell did about the same, while James and myself did much better.

  “And with this we see the joining of training chip to equipment connection. Significantly better. Good job, recruits.”

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  Unbeknownst to us, Sergeant Williams had pulled something out, and tossed it. I had heard a click, then the clatter as it hit the ground. It looked to be a grenade.

  “Think fast, kids. That's tear gas.”

  “Shit”, Max said, resigned to his fate.

  I backed away from this, toward the door. The grenade began hissing out tear gas as I started clawing at the door. To my horror, the door was locked. I turned and saw a billowing cloud of yellow smoke filling the room. I quickly took a deep breath before I was overtaken by the cloud, and close my eyes. I felt encased in warmth as the cloud passed me.

  “Breathe in that fresh air, rookies.”, Sergeant Williams said between fits of laughter. “Your lungs filter the air, and your eyes have a clear protective layer. Have faith in your equipment, as OCP only gets the best.”

  I resisted the urge to breathe for as long as I could. I felt my heart racing, and my lungs were beginning to burn from the buildup of CO2. I lasted maybe 20 seconds before I breathed in. To my shock, nothing happened. I opened my eyes, and similarly, they didn't burn. Then the boot fucking dropped.

  “Alright dispatch, turn off their air filtering.”

  In an instant, my lungs screamed in pain. They were pre-filled with tear gas. My sinuses screamed, mucus building up and pouring down my face. It felt like an endless misery was upon me. There was no escape, we were locked in.

  “Alright, turn it back on. Remember rookies, trust the equipment give and installed in you. It just may save your life. Anyway, kids, let's go meat some of the team, get you all cleaned up, and get you assigned to a patrol schedule.

  We were once again whisked away to another room in the labyrinthine building, and ended up in a cafeteria. About twenty other officers were there, along with dispatch. They presented a welcome to the team cake and we chatted among ourselves. Reportedly Williams was the one who baked the cake. There we met our handler for when we officially started, which would be next Monday. He said to call him by his last name, Daniels. He showed us so many pictures of his dog, a husky mix named Nome.

  Daniels was apart of the dispatch team, and would be coordinating us on any situation that would arise and if the company had any specific jobs they wanted us to take care of. That part seemed a little odd, as we were just a security force. I paid it no mind though, I was enjoying the cake.

  As the little meet and greet wound down, we went to the locker rooms, and I found they gave me back my clothes I had went to the initial interview in, some jeans, a hoodie, and a long sleeved band shirt of a local punk band, The Lanterns. As soon as I got changed, a notification popped up on my HUD.

  I had gotten paid for the two months I had been asleep. A smile crept up on my face. I hadn't held this much money in my life, let alone half that amount. I was bouncing as I walked out of the locker room, where I had seen the three others talking among themselves.

  Alexander saw me and said, “We all got paid. Want to come have a night out and get some drinks to celebrate?”

  “Sure, might as well meet the rest of the team.”