Mind Molding

KJ pulled out a shiny glowing laptop from his backpack.

“You know, we haven’t set up a FOCUS implant in a while,” he said, casually tapping at the keys. “So this should be… interesting.”

“Have you heard the pop yet?” he asked without looking up.

“No. Why?” asked John.

“Huh? That’s weird. How long has it been?” he asked, turning to the doctor.

“About an hour,” the doc replied. “Surgery ended not too long ago.”

“Oh,” KJ shrugged. “ We need to wait for that. It should be any minute no—”

BANG!

A sound like a shotgun went off inside John’s head. His spine snapped straight, legs locked, hands clenching like they’d been hit with jumper cables. He felt like he had been hit by a train and struck by lightning at the same time.

It wasn’t just pain. It was every kind of pain.

His ears rang like fire alarms, his muscles seized like he’d been tasered, and for a second it felt like his bones were boiling.

He screamed. Loud. He fell off the ottoman and began twitching on the ground.

“What’s happening to him?!” Lea shouted. She went to help, but the doctor stopped her.

“That,” the doctor said calmly, “is why we usually keep them asleep longer. He’s having a small seizure-like reaction. It’s normal.”

“It doesn’t look normal!”

It was hell. Straight hell. Like someone had set a furnace inside every cell in his body and cranked it to eleven.

Then, just as fast as it came, it stopped.

John gasped, drenched in sweat, chest heaving.

“What the fuck was that?” he panted.

“Pretty obvious,” Director Hoffman said from the doorway, “ That was the pop.”

“You good?” Roman asked.

“Sure,” John said, lying through his teeth.

KJ didn’t wait for a real answer. He helped John back onto the seat, clamped the two dishes around John’s head like oversized headphones and went back to work on the laptop.

“Accessing FOCUS for reprogramming,” he said. “Starting now.”

John’s vision fuzzed. Not like dizziness, more like buzzing. His brain felt drunk, but his body stayed sharp. Weird combo.

It wasn’t like wine. Not vodka either.

No, this was tequila. Cheap, Mexican tequila. And he’d just downed the whole bottle alone.

The room spun just enough to notice but not enough to puke.

Then the TV blinked on.

Not the news. Not cable.

Code. Strings of it. Letters, numbers, weird symbols pouring across the screen like the Matrix had just moved in.

“It’s working!” KJ said with a grin.

Then—

<<<>>>

[Hello, John]

<<<>>>

The voice was crystal clear. Robotic. Smooth. Directly in John’s head.

John jumped. “What the hell was that?!”

“What was what?” Lea asked, instantly alert.

“I didn’t say anything,” KJ said, not even looking up. “Probably just your FOCUS kicking in.”

<<<>>>

[New user now fully synced]

[Start up and sync successful. Now live. User Identification: John.]

[He is correct.]

[ I am F.O.C.U.S: Field Operative Cybernetic Uplink System. I am here to assist you.]

<<<>>>

The voice was back. It was an odd feeling having someone else talk in his head, but John figured he’d have to get used to it.

<<<>>>

[The CIA edit system has been connected.]

<<<>>>

John stared ahead, frozen.

This is so weird, thought John.

<<<>>>

[I agree. I will do everything to make the transition more smooth]

<<<>>>
Wait, you can hear my thoughts? John thought.

<<<>>>

[Of course I can. There’s no difference between you and me anymore. I am now part of you located in your brain.

[I can hear all your thoughts, commands and even your subconscious intentions. I’m also capable of accessing your nervous system.]

<<<>>>

“That seems extremely invasive,” John said out loud.

“Who are you talking to?” Chief Roman asked, turning from the window.

“Uh… no one,” John said quickly, sitting a little straighter.

Then the television screen froze. The numbers stopped scrolling. A new interface loaded with a soft digital chime. A sleek red window popped up.

“Here we go,” KJ said, eyes gleaming. “This is your main FOCUS screen.”

John’s name and information ran across the top in bold:

John Nero.
Class: Analyst, Sub Class: Economics
Skills: Analyze (Lv. 1)/ Total Recall (Lv. 1)/ Data Serve (Lv. 1)/ (Slot 4)/ (Slot 5)
Talent: Pending…
Current Gadgets: None.

“I… I recognize this,” John said, squinting at the glowing display. “It’s like a video game menu.”

“You’d be surprised how much gaming has influenced tech,” KJ replied, grinning like a proud nerd. “Most military training simulators are built on Call of Duty’s engine. No joke. Now do me a favor. Look at the screen. Focus on it. Try imagining it in front of you. Think real hard.”

John did. He focused on the data, locked onto the red box and suddenly a purple holographic screen flickered into life, hovering midair in front of him like a heads-up display from a sci-fi movie.

John grinned. “Whoa.”

“What do you see?” Lea asked.

“It’s… a screen,” John said, blinking fast. He reached out and touched nothing. Holographic. Projected. Only visible to him.

“Yes,” KJ said, nodding. “That’s your main hub. It’s how you and FOCUS interact. You can access your skills here, check your system, run diagnostics. It’s all custom to you. Anytime you want to use a skill, just say it or think it. Also, it may appear in different colors until it evens out.”

“So I got a personal assistant in my skull now. Neat.”

“Now,” KJ said, clapping his hands, “here’s the real deal. Right now, your FOCUS is at the most basic level. When you complete an objective, it processes the data and learns how to do your skills on a higher level. The more you experience out there, the better it gets. It learns. Adapts. Evolves.”

“Like experience points?” John asked.

“Exactly. Based on your class, the system boosts three starter skills and leaves two optional slots. Those you can fill by learning from experience. Your talent, though, that’s different.”

John looked back at the screen. Three skills listed. Two blanks. One blinking empty space for ‘Talent.’

“What’s my talent?” he asked.

KJ scratched the back of his neck. “Talents aren’t taught or interchangeable like skills. They’re… discovered. They’re you. Deep down, raw. But they take more time to level up if they do at all.”

“But,” KJ continued, pulling something from his bag, “we’re gonna make one little tweak right now. That whole ‘analyst’ thing?” He made a face. “Yeah, no. We’re changing your class.”

“To what?” John asked.

“Spy.”

KJ pressed a few keys.

A sharp buzz zapped in the back of John’s skull. His jaw clenched. The screen went dark. Then code began to scroll again, faster this time, more intense.

When it stopped, a new screen popped up:

John Nero.
Class: Spy
Skills: Analyze (Lv. 1)/ Shadow Step (Lv. 1)/ Combat (Lv. 1)/ (Slot 4)/ (Slot 5)
Talent: Pending…
Current Gadgets: None.

“Huh,” KJ said, squinting. “‘Analyze’ isn’t normally a spy skill. It’s supposed to be ‘Face Changer’.”

“What does that mean?” asked the doctor, stepping closer.

“Probably a glitch,” KJ said with a shrug. “Might be the FOCUS adapting to his brain. Or maybe… he’s just weird. Won’t he need it to maximize his disguises?”

John stared at the glowing screen. His name. His new class. His new life.

Chief Roman rubbed his temples and leaned back. “Leave it,” he said with finality. “We don’t need his brain scrambled before he even steps foot in the field. Besides, he won’t be deployed that long.”

KJ sucked his teeth. “I guess.”

Then the screen twitched.

New line.

<<<>>>

[Loading Talent...]

<<<>>>

“Ooh, here we go,” KJ said, his eyes lighting up behind his glasses. “Now this is gonna be interesting. Based on your talent, we’ll know what you’re really made of.”

The screen flashed again.

<<<>>>

[Talent Identified: Underworld Legacy]

[NOTICE: Ultra Rare]

[WARNING: Involuntary Activation]

<<<>>>

John froze. “Underworld… what? What is that?”

“Let’s find out,” KJ said.

He typed fast, hit enter, and the room buzzed.

John felt it in his teeth.

“Talents,” KJ explained, pushing his glasses up, “are personal. Like… if someone played baseball their whole life, FOCUS might give them throwing accuracy or bat-based melee proficiency.”

“If someone’s a coder,” he added, patting his own chest, “they might get bonus hacking skills. It’s all based on your real-world background. Ultra rare means you are part of the exclusive few with anything like it. Involuntary means that it will activate on its own, which is good! It’ll always be on to help you. Not everyone gets that. ”

KJ read the screen again once the code on his laptop stopped running. His face changed. He went pale.

“Uh… I don’t know if I should be showing this.” he said in a nervous tone.

“What is it?” asked Director Hoffman from across the room.

KJ didn’t answer. Instead, he walked over to the on-site doctor and whispered something. He showed him the screen.

The doctor’s face went just as tight. He looked at Hoffman and nodded.

“Sir… maybe you should see this in private.”

“We don’t have time for this,” growled Deputy Stein. “We’ve been up all night. Just put it on the damn screen!”

KJ hesitated, sweating now.

John raised an eyebrow. “Is it that bad?”

KJ didn’t answer. He just pressed the button. FOCUS elaborated in John’s mind and on the screen. The screen read:

<<<>>>

[TALENT: UNDERWORLD LEGACY]

[Trait Summary:]

[Due to your upbringing within a high-risk criminal environment, you possess an instinctive grasp of criminal behavior, tactics, and networks. ]

[1. Criminal Network Knowledge]
[Leverage insider understanding of smuggling routes, black-market structures, arms networks, and syndicate politics. You grew up around it so you know how they move.]

[2. Enhanced Negotiation & Manipulation]
[Charm, intimidate, or coerce with tailored tactics based on lived experience. You don’t talk to criminals. You speak their language.]

[3. Survival Instinct]
Years in the underground honed your senses. You smell a setup before it happens. Ambushes. Betrayals. Traps. You don’t just survive. You anticipate.]

[4. Counterintelligence Edge]
[ Read the enemy’s playbook like it’s your diary. Predict moves, decode signals, neutralize threats before they make them.]

<<<>>>

John stared, stunned. In clean, clinical lines, the system had taken his childhood, the dirt, the danger, the trauma, and labeled it an asset.

“I’ve never seen it do that before,” KJ whispered. “Never heard of Underworld Legacy. Everyone’s talents are unique, sure, but this one… this one’s different.”

“I think it’s great,” said Director Hoffman, nodding. “Gives us an edge.”

“I’m not a criminal,” John snapped.

“You’re not as long as you’re working for us,” said Stein.

Then another line popped up at the bottom of the display.

<<<>>>

[Related Talent Detected: Cousin Tree]

<<<>>>

“What’s that?” Lea asked, stepping closer.

KJ sighed. “This is what me and the doc were afraid of.”

“Explain,” Hoffman said sharply.

KJ adjusted his collar. “Some talents have related variants like I mentioned. Not the same, but connected. FOCUS tracks them. Yours... is lit up in blue.”

“Is that bad?” John asked.

“It means,” KJ added slowly, “your talent is linked to another agent currently in the CIA database, but there’s only one Ultra Rare in there…”

He pressed a key.

A new screen opened:

<<<>>>

[Cousin Talent Detected: Predictive Insight]

<<<>>>

All three, the Director, the Deputy, and Chief Roman, stood up.

“Impossible,” Roman said.

“There’s no way,” Stein echoed. “No way it’s related to that.”

“Do you know what this means?” Director Hoffman asked. “There’s only supposed to be seven! There’s only supposed to be one reaction per continent. He’s number eight?”

“If China finds out it’s possible to have more than one,” said the Deputy, “things may get sticky.”

“Eight,” KJ whispered, staring at the screen like it might blink and correct itself. “That’s not supposed to be possible.”

“Jesus,” John uttered. “Am I gonna die from this thing or what?”

The silence that followed didn’t help.

They exchanged glances like it was a loaded gun on the table.

Hoffman cleared his throat. “John… Predictive Insight… that’s the talent of Agent One.”

“Agent One?” John asked, brows pulling together.

“The best,” Roman cut in. “Greatest living spy in the world. Only one like him. Period.”

“FOCUS assigns one version of that talent per continent,” Hoffman said. “It’s a literal living weapon. It helps us keep the peace. It’s why we made this editor to override people’s skills to mimic that.”

“I thought all FOCUS users were weapons,” John said quietly.

“They are,” KJ replied. “But most have to earn it. Skills develop over time. You... you’re already there.”

“We’re done here,” the doctor said, already unhooking wires from John’s head.

“Cleanup,” Hoffman barked.

Agents started folding chairs, clearing equipment. KJ carefully detached the last sensor and packed it away.

“Sorry about poking around inside your skull,” KJ said. “They say you’re gonna be a great field agent.”

“I’m not a field agent,” John replied. “I’m an economic analyst.”

KJ grinned. “Yeah. Sure you are. Oh, by the way…” he said, glancing around like he was sharing a secret. “I’ve got something for you. Little going-away present. I’m 23, and they don’t let the ‘intern’ build his own toys yet. But I figured you could use them. And if they help? Maybe put in a good word.”

John chuckled. KJ wasn’t slick, but he was real.

“I’ll keep it quiet,” John said.

“What’s going on over there?” Hoffman called out.

“Nothing!” KJ replied, snapping the case shut. “See you soon, John.”

“Plane leaves in twenty hours,” Roman said. “Time to move.”

“One more thing,” John said, standing.

They all turned.

“Now that FOCUS is in my head, I assume it’s permanent.”

“Correct,” the doctor nodded. “Irreversible.”

“Then I’ve got demands.”

Hoffman narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” John said. Calm. Steady. No flinch. “You want this to work, you’ll give me what I want.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Deputy Stein barked. “You don’t get to-”

“-I do now,” John cut in. “Because right now, I’m the only one in this room the system thinks is the eighth.”

The silence hit like a slap.

Hoffman gritted his teeth. “Fine. What is it?”

“If I can find a way to take my siblings in alive... I want that option.”

“What?” Roman snapped. “They’re going to murder you.”

“I know,” John said. “But I also know you can fake a death if you need to. Make them vanish. I grew up with them. I know what they know. They’re more valuable alive than dead. And I know the CIA values information more than blood.”

Hoffman scratched his chin, thinking. “If you can pull it off, fine. That it?”

“One more: I want someone in Witness Protection. You know who I mean,” John said, looking at Roman.

Hoffman’s head whipped around. “Who the hell is he talking about?”

“No time,” John said. “Yes or no?”

Roman hesitated. Looked at the clock. Looked at the Director.

“It’s not crazy,” Roman muttered. “But it matters.”

Hoffman tapped his watch, irritated. “Whatever. Fine. Get me the report later. Get it done.”

John’s grin was slow but he felt like he finally had some control.

A junior agent handed him a manila folder on the way out, then went back to resetting the room.

John cracked it open, curious.

A full dossier. Name. Weight. Height. Full FOCUS profile. His face, staring back. And one more detail.

Agent Name: Raven.

“Agent Raven?” John said aloud. “Who picked that?”

“No clue,” Stein replied. “It’s system-generated. We don’t change 'em.”

“Fine,” John said, closing the folder. “Raven it is.”

He turned for the door.

“I’ll meet with Agent Hawk. Stop my brother. Figure out how to build a nest.”

He paused. Looked back once.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Hoffman said. “Try not to die. These FOCUS units are expensive.”