Run and gun #01: Sealing the deal

Sealing the deal.
I take a deep breath as I try and fill out the form Apex industries has sent me as neatly as I can. "What. The. Shit." home address: R. Eisenhart... Whatever, I'll just claim that my street's named after me. I keep filling out the form 'to the best of my knowledge' I'm sure they won't even cross-reference anything. Still better than handing off paperwork that looks like a college SAT test with all the spots filled in. A million errors and a shit eating grin later, I hand off my form to the receptionist.
Not exactly attractive, she kinda looks like a painting that got rained on. Maybe in the right light, and with the correct geometry she might pass off as ugly and not a monstrous abomination of humanity. "Small company." I thought. "If they did have the budget, they'd have a receptionist that would not scare the fear of God back into my soul." She takes a look at me like she read my mind or maybe it's the look of cruel acceptance of her aesthetic fate.
"Go to room 323 and find an empty locker, it'll be yours until we have to clean your corpse off the floor." Charming person. I fell in love when she said corpse. Yes, sarcasm was meant.
I walk over to my 'locker' it looked like it had the tensile strength of wet cardboard. Oh well, at least I have work and a means to support myself. The speakers come alive with the unholy noise you would only hear at a drive-through. "Eisenhart, please procure your equipment and proceed to hall 381 for training." Well, here we go.
So... Locker's contents are as follows:
-an assault rifle that looks like it was the progeny of a gang rape of different gun manufacturers
-a vest that looks like it's sole purpose in life was to just hold my insides together so i can at least die with dignity
-a sidearm that looks older than my grandad's testicles.
"Ah yes, off to a fine start on my first day" I took a deep breath before taking my so called 'equipment' "I'm not going to make it past training." I just had to say this to myself after the feeling of overwhelming dread crawled up my ass like an unholy hellspawn intent on possesing me.
I zipped past the hallways and made it to the training hall. It looked rather well kept than most of the place, sans the scores of bullet holes and burn marks elegantly placed around the place. "The walls could pass off as modern art." I thought to myself. I walked over to a group gathered at the center of the hall and reported in. The guy who seems to be in charge welcomes me as I walk over to hand in my credentials. "Mr. Eisenhart, welcome to training and these fresh faces full of false hope will be your new team for the time being... Until one of you dies and has to be replaced. Also, we can't afford dummy rounds so we'll skip the actual 'training' and do the final assessment." The instructor walks away with a grin. Nice guy, or maybe he's just done it so many times he's just an empty husk pretending to be human. I looked at my soon to be team, and... I'm screwed. As cliche' as it sounds. I don't think i signed up for this.

To be continued...