match his intimidating stature. For the first few months of my training with him, I only ever called him Captain Gibson until he told me all the formality made him feel like an old man and, if I continued with it, he’d start calling me Mr. Sharp. I’ve called him Zane ever since.

I set the empty gun down on the counter and flex my right hand a few times. Zane had me try out a new prototype pistol today that came in a few weeks ago from weapons research. This particular gun is smaller than the P.E.S. standard issue sidearm but can hold a larger caliber bullet. My hand certainly felt the effects.

‘’Almost, Zane? You know I only miss by as much as I do because I don’t want to hurt your feelings. How would it look if some pale skinny research assistant came in here and ou...

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