Looking at the stained red leather hardcover of the book inside the contention chamber, Specter remembered the first time he had read it. It was a June afternoon and he was waiting for the last drop of coffee to fall into his after-afternoon caffeine shot. As he watched the glass half empty in front of the coffee machine, he saw one of the Revisionists get close.

He was on the Library's mid-floors filling out paperwork till that moment, it was... one of those days.

— Excuse me, Agent, could you take a look at this? —

Said the girl, a pair of black eyes looked at him behind the thick glass of her glasses.

— Sure, what've you found? —

She took the red leather book from under her arm, grouped it with other similar three, and lent it to him. When Specter held it in his hands, he felt enticed to open it and read.

— Impossible —

He thought

— It's... allure? —

That thing, he had only felt it once before, already more than ten years ago.

Watching it behind the containment glass that afternoon after all of what had happened, made him think. What would have happened if the Revisionist had approached another Agent?

— There's no way that could happen —

Said the black-suited agent in front of him.

— I swear, he's a little brat, it reminds me of you —

Raising an eyebrow the young-black haired, slanted eyes boy turned around. The two swords, tightly belted around his chest, made him look threatening.

— I'll have to give my little siblings a visit sometime —

Said Park Jun-Ichi.

— You should —

Answered Specter.

That same afternoon, after Specter had come back from Hollow Creek, he had landed at Washington's airport to find the older son of the Park family waiting for him. What came first as bad news, became truly frightening when he and the other two first-grade female Agents drove him blindfolded out of the town. After a two-hour ride, when they finally stopped and Specter was able to see again, he found himself facing the entrance of a sort of military assessment at the foot of a mountain. A third Agent was standing at the door, waiting for them.

— Is he inside? —

Asked Park to the one doing guard, it was a young strong-looking male, all shaved till the tip of his head. He had a little friend's face and answered by just nodding with his head. He was reading a newspaper.

— All right, so let's get in, you're coming with us —

Said Jun-Ichi, the three of them got through a thick door made of steel and descended through a complex system of tunnels and hallways, till they got into what seemed to be an anti-bombs refugee. The hall was completely empty, and only a chair stood in the middle. An older man than the four of them was sitting on it. He extended one hand asking for it, and Specter gave him the book. Both stood looking at it under a warm light, already contained inside a glass box, pretty much like the one that Specter had used for Oliver.

The other four agents remained one in each corner of the room, four of them, boxing the two in the middle. Specter had a bad feeling about all of it.

— Agent Specter, I have a question for you —

The man in front of him must had over forty years, of grayish hair unfolding over a military undercut, a few inches larger than it should.

— Why did you give me back the book? —

He asked under a tired pair of eyes

— Excuse me, sir? —

Specter replied, the man looked at him whimsically.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

— I'm asking you why didn't you keep it for yourself —

Specter froze at his spot and thought about it, he didn't want to take too long.

— I... managed to think you would do a better use of it than me, sir —

— Didn't you think we would take it from you anyway? —

Specter swallowed in his spot

— I did, Sir —

Unlike he or the other three, whom's information was clearly delivered through a badge hanging around their neck, the man in front of him was a blank sheet.

Shrouded in darkness, the A.M.A.T commanding pipeline was divided into three tiers. At the top of everything, the Administration Board also called "The Staff" ruled everything, commanded by a Head Master, they would be the ones making the big decisions and leading the most dangerous operations. Under them, there would be the Moderation Agency or "The M.O" filled with Revisionists like the girl of the library, whose main task would be the reviews of every book in the library, and field agents just like him. These field agents would split further into Third, Second, and First Grade, depending on their achievements and expertise. And lastly, there would be the Supporting Operatives or the "S.O." mainly made by training agents, volunteers, or regular collaborators.

Specter himself had once started as a collaborator, quickly becoming a Third Grade Agent. Once there, it took him about eight years to rank up to 2nd Grade, and he had been stuck there since then. Throughout all of that time, he had met a few First Graders like Smith or Jun-Ichi, and none above them. But he had his suspicions about who they could be, or why it was so impossible to meet them in person. When he saw no badges of the man in front of him, Specter guessed the type of person he was talking to.

— Agent Specter, are you conscious of which type of book are we talking over? —

Specter looked him in the eyes

— Sir, if you let me argue... —

— Go ahead —

Specter looked at the book behind the glass

— This must be a type of Origin Story, some sort of Stand-Alone telling —

The man looked at him with his gray eyes.

— I might be guessing here but, due to its content... I think it may be the beginning of a sub-plot inside a Canonical Plotline —

The man laughed at Specter's answers, throwing a look at the other side of the room. When Specter turned back, Jun-Ichi was laughing too.

— I'm sorry if I'm making no sense Sir, but... —

— Not at all, Agent —

The man coughed off his laugh.

— It's just the first time I hear a Second Grader talking about Origin sub-plots Stori-lines —

— Excuse me, Sir? —

Specter felt he was being diminished

— Don't quote me on that, Agent —

There, the man extended his hand again, right over the contained book. Specter took it after a second of doubt.

— I'm Special Agent McKeen, Head of the Staff's Second Unit —

Specter didn't know what to think about it

— I'd like to make you an offer —

Walking over the tunnels, all the way up to the top of the mountain, they stood at a warfare facility in the snow. Looking through the windows, after walking over the almost empty hallways, Specter was able to see a line of somewhat troopers running in the middle of a blizzard. There must be around fifty of them, counting everyone he had seen till that moment. Watching from the cafeteria, as the other agents made a meal for themselves, McKeen approached him.

— Most of them wouldn't make it to the end of the year, Agent —

Specter remembered his training times, more than ten years ago, after deciding to become more than just a collaborator.

— Every day that goes by is harder to find good agents —

Forty percent was the average rate of success for all new training agents. The very same one new agents had of either dying or becoming discharged by wounds the first two years after beginning their career.

— Expertise in Storytelling matters, you would guess, it's both a rare and precious skill to find in an operative —

Specter looked at McKeen

— You're being promoted to First Grade, Agent Specter —

Specter sight became darker

— Can I speak clearly, Sir? —

The man raised an eyebrow

— Allowed, Agent —

— Are you inviting me to join your unit? —

McKeen looked at him straightly

— No, I want you to run it —

Specter went blank

— Run it, Sir? —

The man turned back and saw the other four Agents gathered in the room.

— You may not know this yet, Agent, but it takes something more than just a Grade to ascend the latter —

The man continued

— You stumbled across an artifact that no one could ever know existed if you decided to keep it, one that would give you access to a lot of power —

— It was my duty, Sir —

— Yet, I wouldn't trust that duty to everyone in this unit —

Said the man looking at the shaved-head agent, dining all alone in one corner of the room.

— You see, every good unit is made of the same elements, more or less crafted in different fabrics —

Then he turned himself again and saw the troops disappearing in the blizzard.

— A Good Soldier to call, an Ace or Wildcard to answer, a Shield to protect them all, and a Leader that guides —

Specter tried to discover who was who in the room, but still unable to find them all, he asked himself who would he be in that regard.

— And why me? —

— To be honest Agent? we don't have that many people to choose —

Specter felt disappointed somehow

— Due to the nature of our job, one must put his hand on everything he founds —

McKeen put a hand on his shoulder

— I'm moving up the latter Agent, I need you to get quickly on your boots —

Specter nodded, standing firm on his feet.

— I'm sending you to your first mission, don't mess it up —