On the weekend, Mike, dressed in a casual suit, drove his red Ferrari towards the Men in Black headquarters.
Sixth Avenue in Manhattan could be considered the transportation hub of the Big Apple, filled mostly with various roads and overpasses. And because the Hudson River flows through here, there is also a Port Authority.
Judging by the overall industrial development, the practicality here obviously outweighed the residential attributes. God knows why the MIB headquarters was located here.
Guided by the address on the invitation, Mike drove the sports car all the way to the suburbs and finally parked downstream of the Hudson River, facing a huge stone pier of the cross-river bridge. Next to it was a large desolate area.
With this hidden nature, no wonder Mike hadn't found any clues about the Men in Black headquarters before.
"Hey, bro, nice sports car~" With an improper whistle, a strong black guy also came to the stone pier chasing the car exhaust: "Let's get to know each other, my name is James Edwards, an ordinary detective in the Big Apple."
Perhaps seeing Mike holding the same invitation, James's attitude was quite enthusiastic.
"Damn, this place is really hard to find. Don't know what that MIB does." At the same time, James, wearing a loose sweatshirt, also had the unique rap skills of black people: "I thought they were recruiting agents, but now I feel the probability of them looking for actors or models is greater..."
"Could it be that MIB is actually an agency, but opening the headquarters in such a place, business must be bad..."
While complaining, James didn't forget to size up Mike and observe the surrounding situation.
[Reconnaissance Experience +66]... [Counter-Reconnaissance Experience +50]... [Shooting Experience +35]... [Rap Experience +10]...
It must be said that James was indeed the detective favored by the Men in Black headquarters; his alertness was indeed not bad.
"Mike Quinn, recent graduate from Columbia. Nice to meet you." After the other party shut up, Mike greeted this future Agent J.
"God! I said MIB doesn't sound like a regular organization~" Knowing Mike's student identity, James really began to doubt MIB's motives.
"Wait, why do I feel you look very familiar? Were you an athlete before... football... right, you are the Tornado~" Obviously, James's memory and observation were equally good. At least in this situation, he still had time to diverge his thinking.
And the familiarity he mentioned was probably Mike's inspirational documentary on the football team last year. What Mike didn't expect was that the documentary spread so widely.
"I used to be a member of the Medford football team." Suddenly hearing the nickname Tornado, Mike felt inexplicably ashamed.
"Yes, that high school league documentary, I remember you. I thought this guy was good back then..." After recognizing Mike's hidden identity, James was obviously more enthusiastic and continued: "Are you still playing football now? I can see you have great talent and will definitely become a sports superstar in the future."
"Let's talk about this when we have a chance later~" Mike brought the topic back and said: "Shouldn't we find the entrance to the MIB headquarters first now?"
The best way to suppress a chatterbox is to divert their attention. Who knows what would happen if the two continued chatting.
"You're right; we should go see what MIB is." Speaking of serious business, James returned to normal.
Then, the two tapped on the big stone pier in front of them and finally found a small window behind a patch of weeds.
"Hi, we are the people called by Ms. O; how do we get in?" James shouted at the book-sized window, gesturing with his hands and feet about how to squeeze through such a small window.
In the entrance reception room, a staff member in a black suit had actually seen the situation outside through monitoring equipment long ago. Especially the special invitation cards in Mike and James's hands.
With James's shout, the staff member pressed the door open button. Then, amidst a "buzzing" sound, a highly technological metal door appeared on the seamless stone pier.
Behind the door was a long fantasy tunnel.
It must be said that MIB had a good imagination, actually designing the headquarters underground.
"Where should we go to find Ms. O?" After entering the gate, James asked the receptionist in the reception room.
The receptionist in a black suit pointed coldly to the end of the tunnel without speaking.
"The attitude of the staff here is really cold; no wonder business is bad." James complained while walking along the only passage.
It is worth mentioning that his pace was slightly faster than Mike's, and his right hand was always close to the pistol at his back waist. Mike could be sure that once danger appeared, the other party would definitely draw the gun immediately.
Just like this, the two walked to the end of the passage without meeting anyone else.
And at the end, a row of rooms appeared, with the door of the largest one wide open.
Inside were eight active military personnel wearing various uniforms. Looking at their tough aura and the patterns on their epaulets, they were obviously elites selected from various troops.
At this time, feeling the aura of his own kind, James's tight nerves relaxed a little.
"Assessment time is up; please take your seats as soon as possible, otherwise it will be regarded as abstention." A man in black inside the room looked outside and said expressionlessly.
"Wait, I don't know what you want to assess yet, and whether your organization complies with regulations." James had a belly full of doubts.
However, facing the question, the man in black in the room had no intention of answering. The soldiers sitting in a row in the room also looked straight ahead with great discipline.
"After the assessment, you should get the answer." Mike reminded James, then walked into the room first and found a hemispherical seat to sit down.
This seat looked like an egg cut in half vertically, smooth all around, and uncomfortable to sit in.
"What kind of seat is this? It's too uncomfortable!" Sure enough, James, sitting next to Mike, immediately complained about the chair.
Of course, his complaint didn't have any effect. The only man in black in the room had already distributed test papers and pencils to everyone according to the procedure.
The questions on the test paper were not difficult, mostly about how to deal with emergencies, evacuate crowds, and handle aftermath work, etc.
However, the man in black only gave everyone test papers and pencils, without preparing tables for answering.
Thin and brittle test papers and sharp pencils—without a suitable place to answer, it was really hard to write on the test paper.
At this time, the eight soldiers aside had already spread the test papers on their legs and started answering. Only the occasional sound of "puff, puff" piercing the test paper proved that this method was not applicable.
"Hey, sports boy. Come give me a hand~" James, who also poked several holes in the test paper, had designs on the only low table in the room.
Yes, in the middle of the room, there was a knee-high table. At this time, James was holding onto the table, winking at Mike.
"Why don't you bring the test paper over?" Mike went to the table, spread the test paper on the low table, sat on the ground, and started answering.
Say, this height was just right.
"Why didn't I think of that?" James also followed suit and brought the test paper over.
You know, the base of that row of hemispherical seats alone was more than a meter high. Moving the low table over would also be inconvenient for answering. Instead, Mike's idea saved trouble and was practical.
Under comparison, the behavior of Mike and James also attracted the attention of the eight soldiers behind.
"There are still many seats here; if you want, you can come over too." Feeling the surprised gazes of the others, James issued an invitation generously.
However, out of discipline, the eight soldiers quickly withdrew their gazes and insisted on writing on their legs.
Although the man in black in the room didn't raise objections to Mike and James's "violation" behavior. This, with a high probability, was a tacit approval of Mike and James's approach.
"Looks like we found two good little guys this time. Right, Agent K?" In the room separated from the examination room by a wall, a lady with half-white hair spoke.
In this slightly smaller room, a highly technological LCD screen was broadcasting the situation inside the examination room.
"It's too early to say these things now; whether he can pass the assessment ultimately depends on himself." Agent K, with wrinkles on his face, looked businesslike.
"K, you are still so rigid~" Ms. O smiled, then turned to the fat man with a mustache behind her and said: "Mr. Z, help me organize the information of that little guy named Mike."
"Okay, Ms. O~" Mr. Z responded.
Yes, there were three Men in Black in this small room.
And in the Men in Black organization, besides special combat personnel like Agent K, there were also managers like Ms. O and clerical staff like Mr. Z.
It's just that as they gradually aged, the Men in Black organization urgently needed new blood to join.
And for this assessment, strictly speaking, James and Mike were not qualified to appear here at all.
But because James had some connection with Agent K, his quota was specially recommended by K. Of course, the opportunity was given; whether James could qualify in the end, K wouldn't interfere much.
As for Mike, it was because Ms. O urgently needed someone to take the lead in dealing with the increasing number of supernatural events on the planet.
So Mike also got this opportunity.