Anglund Salomon

Anglund was flown in by helicopter. Needless to say, his Chain of Command (CIA) had recommended he join the newly made Anti-Metal Gear Organization due to his unmatched talent at intelligence gathering and his skill with new-grade military technology. He had put on his best suit that day; grey coat with a stripped blue and white dress shirt. He couldn't decide whether to choose a solid or stripped tie, but ended up kicking himself in the heel over an hour spent on his outfit for the interview and finally picked a blue stripped tie. He had matching grey pants and dark, polished dress shoes. 

Sitting almost uncomfortably during the entire flight, Anglund pondered through his thoughts.

' Metal Gear.'

He had heard about it during his early years, working with the CIA. It was something notable because he was studying old technology schematics back during the early 1900's. It was around 1962, that one the case files on an early model of a Metal Gear was mentioned; Shagohod. A mobile nuclear ballistic missile system capable of turning the tides between the United States and Russia. Yet at its early stages of development, it was shut down by a former agent operative, code-name: Snake. With time, the project was blown and secured images and early foundation planning for Shagohod were released within the CIA. It was easy access and convenient to obtain, granted your clearance. Anglund had become fascinated with how complex and dangerous the Metal Gear projects were. From Shagohod, others had took upon the pedestal of creating their own versions. Thankfully, all projects were destroyed before they had made their debut to the greater community. Most tech became obsolete and within a few given years, Metal Gear weapons had become a thing of the past. So why now? Why was a organization like this, hidden under the cloak of government funding, being made? He had figured the danger of something like that rising again would be zero to impossible. The feeling sat heavily and uneasy in his stomach as he clutched onto his belt that fastened him into his seat. Overhead, the helicopter was just beginning to land on the Flight Deck.

"Doctor Kliesen. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Anglund stood before the doctor's desk with a stretched arm, waiting to grip the others hand with strong appreciation. The Doctor had returned the gesture and smiled back, going to lean back into his leather chair. 

"May I, uhm..-" 

Anglund started, looking behind him, hesitant to sit in either chair that was readily available for him to sit on.

"Yes, yes of course. Make yourself as comfortable as possible Mr. Samolon. This is mostly just preliminary questioning anyway."

Anglund sat down, adjusting his dress coat before crossing his legs at the ankle. He folded his hands near his belt and remained in eye contact with the Doctor.

"So, shall we begin?"

"First, please state your full name and date of birth."
Anglund:  "Anglund Samolon. August 3rd, 1996."

The Doctor scribbles on a notepad, whilst adjusting his glasses on his nose bridge.

Kliesen:  "Anglund Samolon. Quite the name. Do you know of its origin by chance?"

Anglund:  "Unfortunately, I do not. My father was Jewish however. Although Samolon isn't a Jewish name at all. Heh..Uhm, Anglund was my grandfather's name. He fought in WWI. "

Kliesen:  "Interesting. You come from a long line of military then?"

Anglund:  "I do haha, yes. My father was former Marines. Suppose it runs in the family."

Anglund followed with a smile as the Doctor nodded and continued with the next question.

"Where exactly were you born?"
 Anglund: "San Francisco, California."

Kliesen:  "Beautiful. I've been there a few times. I take it you surfed like everyone else? Haha."

Anglund grinned, but shook his head. He unfolded his hands and started to gesture them as he spoke to the Doctor.

Anglund:  "I was very articulate at an early age. While most of peers rode skate boards and surfed, I was stuck at home learning the Pythagorean theorem at age 10. Now, most would say that was a loss of child hood."

Anglund paused. The Doctor rose his head to look at him. He saw Anglund conflicted briefly, but continued on his train of thought.

Anglund:  "But I did it because I enjoyed it. My father thought I was, different. And different in the sense that...his son didn't like baseball or football like the other kids did. Heh...it bothered him to say the least. He didn't attend middle school football games. He didn't see his son throw a ball for a team."

Anglund took a deep breath in. A realization and acceptance in his tone.

Anglund:  *Clears throat* "Instead he sat at the front row of the national spelling bee, watching me spell my way to the top of 8th grade level vocabulary while I attended 4th. He watched me win a science fair project I used to describe and provide an example of chemical bonding between Covalent and Ionic bonds while my peers used vinegar explosions for their home-made volcano's. It took him awhile, but--..he accepted the fact that I wasn't like everyone else. "

''The Doctor would lean back into his chair. He pursed his lips as he momentarily analyzed Anglund. Anglund wasn't looking at him. Instead, his eyes trailed else where to the corner of the room. Anglund was sinking himself into remembering how it was as a child; it had been a long time since he thought back to those days. He was nearly always busy every second of his day to appreciate it. ''

Doctor:  "Lets move on to the next question then."

Anglund:  "Hhh, yes of course."

"Tell me a bit about your background. How was it you ended up working for the CIA?"
Anglund furrowed his brows back at the Doctor. Asking this question meant that he either didn't know anything of his background, or he was testing him to see if he'd let go such sensitive information. It was quiet. Then, the Doctor spoke again.

Doctor: "If you do not wish to spill the details, I understand. The ehm, *clears throat* process of joining the CIA is highly confidential I'm sure."

Anglund:  "Very. *Half grins.* But I can tell you about my childhood."

Doctor: '' I think that could suffice for now. I'm sure the superior's here know of your track record. And although we live in a close, tight knit group here, there are some things that are better left unsaid. Please, continue Mr. Samolon."''

Anglund: "I grew up in an environment with a lot of technology. My father, Thomas, who was also a Tech Engineer used to break down old computers and put them back together. He'd teach me software layouts and scripts when I barely knew what it meant to be a kid. But he was more of the, stereotypical dad I suppose. He wanted me to be normal. But I ended up picking up his own habit and, because of him, I was able to tear through security firewalls as simple as a 3 to 5 steps. My middle school for example."

Doctor:  "Middle school?"

Anglund nodded his head.

Anglund: "I broke into my middle school's fire walls. 'Easy' would be an understatement. Their system's layout was built so simple, even a kid with half the knowledge I knew could run through it no problem. But that's coming from me. Because what I knew, it was 'easy.' I got in trouble for it of course and the school called my dad and spoke with him. I was, I guess punished for it but I think that was one of the first times I had seen how proud my dad was hahaha."

"Tell me about your family. Are you close with them?"
Anglund: "My father still lives in San Francisco. I keep in touch with him whenever I can."

Doctor: "And your mother?"

Anglund: "...She was killed in a hit and run. When I was 3, she was walking to the supermarket that was down the street from our house. 4 hours later she was rushed to the hospital. And, the day after that she passed.."

''The Doctor stopped writing and clicked his pen. He placed the clipboard on the table and frowned sympathetically, then followed with his head being shaken.''

Doctor: "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure she was a wonderful mother to you."

Anglund shrugged, then sighed deeply.

Anglund: "I honestly wouldn't know. I was too young. From everything my dad has told me, she was one of a kind. He says I remind him of her in the things I do, the way I think. She'd sacrifice the world for those she cared about, he'd usually tell me. And so would I. There's a fine line between loyalty and dedication. I know I'm in between them."

''The Doctor exhaled air from his nose, going back to grab his clipboard and pen again. ''

Doctor: "Very admirable of you Mr. Samolon. Very admirable indeed."

Anglund: ''"Hhh, thank you Doctor." ''

"Finally, are there any notes you wish to add or questions you have?"
End of scenario here.