X1 - Chapter 4 - Exam III

"And here comes my favourite part." said X1. "Th' par' where you sit on yur ass an' play vidia games for two days?" replied Nate. "Yes, Nate. That part."

Of course, X1 was really looking forward to the Patience/Reflexes training. Not because it was the closest he'd ever come to actual human interaction with someone other than Nate, who had to be at least 60, but because he got to sit down after two days of exersice equivalent to that of what most professional athetes do.

They walked out of the gym area, down the long, narrow, gray corridor, and turned right, into a room with a large swiveling chair, a tv, and a gaming system with 'PS3' clearly engraved in it.

"Ohh... yeah." moaned X1, sitting down after 48 hours the best feeling he had ever felt. "Finally get to sit the fuck down."

Then, the large, widescreen HD tv came on, the mic he would use to communicate with other players shoved into his right ear (they always alternated, they were strict with symmetricality) by a man wearing a blue uniform with one gray strike, similar to the five on Nate's uniform. X1 could tell by this and the way he handled the mic that he had only recently been given a high enough rank to actually work on (he didn't consider the way they treated him to be described by 'working with') X1. He was gonna have a little fun with this.

"Hey, new guy." he said. All the new ones were afraid of him. They knew what strength he had. "Y- yes, 1?" the new guy asked nervously. "Don't fucking call me 1." X1 replied, trying to sound as menacing and dark as he could. The new guy simply ran. <Problem solved.> X1 thought to himself.
Then a disc labeled 'Call of Duty: Black Ops' was inserted into the PS3 system.

"Let the games begin." said X1.