Bonus chapter (Not really)
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"What's wrong?" Noticing Charlie's complicated expression, Melanie asked.
"It's nothing. I was just wondering about what safety precautions you guys might have." Charlie said honestly.
Melanie burst out laughing. "You can rest assured about this," she said with a smile. "The air base is very safe. In fact, this may be the safest place in the world, and no outsiders can invade."
After hearing this, Charlie's expression became more complicated.
He vaguely remembered that people in the Marvel universe also said the same thing about the Helicarrier. But as everyone knows, the helicarrier's security system is notoriously weak, like an open door inviting intruders.
Of course, that's just a stereotype, and it doesn't mean that everything flying in the sky is doomed. Charlie sincerely hoped that the giant ship could avoid the curse of crashing.
Following Melanie through the twists and turns of the complicated metal corridor, Charlie soon came to a bright office.
The office was located by the window on the ship. The room was tidy, with a clean desk, a metal filing cabinet neatly placed against the wall, and a water dispenser beside it.
Behind the desk was a man in a white coat. Charlie's first impression was that he looked meticulous.
He was neatly groomed, with a meticulously trimmed mustache and bright eyes behind thick round glasses.
When Charlie entered, he immediately raised his head and enthusiastically stepped forward: "You must be the newly discovered Specialist."
"This is Professor Miyazaki, an expert in the study of infected individuals. He will conduct a series of physical tests on you." Melanie introduced,
"Physical test? Like a medical examination? Didn't I conduct one already?"
"It's more of a fitness test," Professor Miyazaki said with a smile. "Don't worry, it's just to see if you're healthy."
"I see," Charlie said, shaking Professor Miyazaki's outstretched hand. He noticed the professor had a firm grip and a strong build. He also smelled a faint scent of cologne.
The professor's meticulous appearance, the cologne, and his enthusiastic demeanor made Charlie instinctively feel the need to keep a distance.
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The test was basically a fitness test, as described. The main items included running, jumping, boxing, and shooting.
For the 100-meter sprint, Charlie took a deep breath and ran with all his might, finishing in 13.38 seconds. Professor Miyazaki looked at the number for a while, his expression saying, "That's it? How useless."
For the 3000-meter run, Charlie barely finished. It was good that his physical fitness improved after playing games for two days straight. Otherwise, with his usual sedentary lifestyle, he might not have made it.
The jumping and punching strength tests were also unremarkable, at the level of a reasonably fit student—good enough for a school team but still student-level.
Finally, the shooting session.
When a Professor handed Charlie a heavy pistol, Charlie said helplessly, "I've never touched one of these..."
"It's okay, just try it," Professor Miyazaki said. "According to our statistics, some infected people have a natural talent for shooting and may adapt quickly."
Charlie reluctantly picked up the gun, aimed at a target ten meters away, squinted for a long time, and pulled the trigger.
A series of gunshots echoed in the confined space.
After emptying a magazine and seeing the target on the monitor, Professor Miyazaki first fell silent, then, as if unable to help himself, commented, "Impressive, you hit everywhere but the target."
Charlie felt a little embarrassed by the result but knew it was reasonable.
After all, He had never touched a gun in his life. It was normal to struggle with shooting.
The test results disappointed Professor Miyazaki, who quickly concluded, "An incompetent Specialist. Although mentally and physically immune to the source of infection, the subject remains ordinary with no notable features."
Melanie, also a tad bit disappointed, quickly explained to Charlie that this situation was rare but not unheard of. There are others in similar situations in the Ninth Division. Although most idiosyncratic are immune to the mental effects of infection while their bodies are enhanced and may awaken special abilities, a small number are simply immune while remaining no different from ordinary people.
They are ironically called "Absolute Extraordinaries."
After the test, Tara led him through various entry procedures. The Ninth Division was efficient and handled affairs quickly. He visited several departments, signed a few forms, and soon, his position was confirmed.
"Here, your ID," Tara said, handing over the identification cards.
Charlie was surprised. "Why are there three?"
"One is our ID for the Ninth Special Service Division, while the other two are for the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) and the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)."
Seeing his confusion, Tara patiently explained, "The Ninth Special Service is a hidden organization, so our IDs may not always be useful. Agents can use the appropriate IDs based on the situation to facilitate their tasks."
Got it, Charlie thought. It's like having multiple identities for convenience and to avoid blame.
"That's about it," Tara smiled. "Welcome aboard. Since you're still a student, you won't need to report to work daily. Just stay in touch."
"Then... there's nothing else for me to do?" Charlie asked.
After joining, he now had a salary of fifty thousand a month without needing to go to work daily. It felt surreal.
"We'll arrange some low-risk missions for you. You will team up with other agents so you can learn along the way. By the way, Detective Ivan seems to have a pending case, so you can start by learning from him."
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When Charlie arrived at Ivan's office, the bald detective was absent. So, at Tara's suggestion, Charlie waited in the office.
After a brief conversation, Tara left to handle her business.
With nothing to do, Charlie casually looked around the office.
Compared to Professor Miyazaki's room, this office was smaller. The desk took up nearly half the space. Documents labeled "Restricted Clearance " were scattered haphazardly, and an open bag of potato chips lay nearby.
He noticed a framed picture on the desk. Inside was an old photo of two men in official uniforms, smiling at the camera.
"I was pretty cool when I was young, right?"
The voice came from behind Charlie. Only then did he notice that Ivan had entered the room.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to look..."
"It's okay," Ivan waved it off, glancing at the photo. "That was back when I was young and still in the FBI. Look at how fit I was, with muscles and everything..."
Charlie nodded in agreement. "And hair."
Ivan's voice trailed off, throwing Charlie a cold and indifferent glance.
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