The young man huffed and puffed in front of an office door. He looked up and read "ADMIRAL JACKSON" in large stenciled block letters. Tentatively, the young portly man knocked on the door.
"Come in," came a muffled voice, within the office.
The young man opened the door and walked into a large office, decorated with naval certificates and a parquet floor. In the corner, there stood a large ornate grandfather clock similar to the one he saw a few minutes ago. The young man grinned inwardly.
"You're right on time, I see. I like a punctual man," said Admiral Jackson as he watched the young man catch his breath. "Have a seat."
As the youth sat down, the Admiral looked over his dossier. The young man that was sitting before him had built a nuclear bomb when he was ten. TEN! Ever since then, he's been busy building his repertoire and knowledge about explosives and demolition. No wonder why this kid caught Stillman's eye, the Admiral thought.
"I'm impressed by your qualifications . . . Fatman. You're a legend here at NSEOD," remarked the Admiral.
With this praise, Fatman could not help but smile. "Thanks."
"Sir. Thank you, sir. Listen here now, Little boy." Fatman's smile disappeared, but somehow magically transferred to Jackson, as the Admiral smiled at Fatman's reaction. "A legend is nothing but fiction. Someone tells it. Someone else remembers. Everybody passes it on. This doesn't matter here. You are now attending a Naval school. As such, there are some expectations to be met. First and foremost, you are expected to show respect to your superiors, and address them as 'sir,' do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. We also expect you to be sound in mind and body. You seemed out of breath when you came into this office. It would be ideal if you built up your stamina. Try running, swimming, or perhaps rollerblading. The latter improves coordination as well." The Admiral lowered his voice as he said, "My son can attest to that. It's a shame that he's involved with that Marine brat." The Admiral smiled. "Sweet girl, though. In any case, do you know why you're here?"
"To learn as much about explosives, ordnance and demolition, sir."
"Very good. Do you know who recommended you?"
"No, sir."
"Peter Stillman."
Fatman's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "The Peter Stillman . . . sir?"
"Correct. You'll meet with him tomorrow at 0800. Do you have any questions?"
Still flabberghasted, Fatman shook his head. "No, sir."
"That is all. Dismissed."
