The next 12 hours were spent in the usual pre-operation way. Reading and analysing reports, a blissful 4 hours of sleep, and a full check up and tune of the enhancements in the medical centre.
Hunters are not like other people. There is the unknown something which lets us kill the supposedly unkillable. Most researchers lean towards the idea that it is a psychic gift, akin to but the opposite of faith healing. The only semi reliable screening point they have come up with yet, to identify potential hunters, is that all hunters have very intense dreams, and all hunters score above average on the Rhine test. The only way to actually prove someone is a hunter is by result.
But once they have you proved, they whisk you off to the most advanced medical centre on the planet and load you up with every advantage the technologies of an extremely inventive and advanced society can give you. Including most of the proscribed ones – most researched here in the Free State and unavailable anywhere else. The genetic engineering and manipulation, and the enhanced neuro-computer interfaces mainly.
They make you totally healthy and boost your immune system and metabolism into overdrive. Double your reaction speed, reinforce most of your bones, enhance vision, hearing, taste, smell and touch by a factor of 5. Give you an inbuilt computer capacity and storage that rivals some mainframes. Built in short range communications that can tap any phone implant. Basically, anything that can give you the slightest edge in combat is crammed in. It is an intense, and intensely painful time. As is the intensive training to use it all afterwards.
* * *
The salle was cold.
Lessons were dull, repetitive movements, mixed with a philosophy that makes no sense. Not cut out for this crap. Most of the people I am in classes with are half my age and know more. It is embarrassing to be continually outdone by a bunch of kids who don't even know what sex is yet and have never had to work or face facts. Theory is fine, but life is not theory, and they don't learn that.
A quiet click echo's around the salle as someone enters. A man. Late 50's by the look of him, moving with a fluid grace to where I am sat. He looks down, then nods and sits facing me.
“Today, we begin your education.” Harsh voice, almost a whisper. Faint accent, Spaniole or Mexicana. The lights suddenly go out and he lunges from his sitting position as my eyes click into enhanced mode. His strike to my throat misses as I twist, grab his arm and throw him halfway across the room. Spin and rise, start forward as he recovers. The lights come back on. He looks at me. And smiles.
“Bueno.”
Tentatively, I smile back.
* * *
The candidates stood in three ranks, perfectly still. They have been trained for this intensively. Combat, philosophy, demonology, mass psychology; the list goes on and on. Every one of them is enough of a believer to exorcise and banish demons and ranked on their level of ability in that in real world situations. The lowest ranked waiting here is a level 12, capable of banishing the small stuff. There are two level 1's who can banish anything that can be banished. I am probably the least able person in the room, as far as ability in banishing goes. My faith is not strong enough. I do believe, but believe in my weapons more.
I frown. Operative 1's are almost as rare as Zeros. Dislike risking them, they are the prime line of defence until we get a couple more hunters trained up.
“Suilien, del Toro. Fall out.” I pick the names from the list, then look up, “You are not being tested today unless no other candidate succeeds. Come here, I will need your assistance.” They comply, del Toro looking tranquil, Suilien looking mutinous.
“I would like the testing today to be with minimum deaths,” I say in a voice pitched so only those two could hear. “The candidates must believe it is real and that there will be no rescue, but I want you both standing by to banish if things look serious. Which of you is fastest?”
“That'd be me, Sir.” Suilien. Still looking upset.
“OK, you are primary, del Toro, you are backup. Take up observation posts. And Suilien?” Studiously avoids looking at me. “You will get your trial, probably a real one in the field. But for the next few weeks I need some combat trained Ones on my team. Don't let me down today.” They leave for the observation post hidden between training rooms one and two, looking marginally happier. I turn to the remaining 25 candidates.
“Each of you will have 20 minutes to locate and kill a demon. This is not an exercise, the demon you will each be hunting is both very real and very hungry. If you fail, you will die. I am here simply to observe. I will not, repeat not, lift a finger to assist you in any way.” Some shuffling of feet at that, they are not used to blunt truth. “Considering your lack of sight enhancement, all the demons you will meet are visible in ordinary light. This test is voluntary. You all have the potential to be hunters, but may not have the ability. Anyone who wishes to withdraw may do so up to the time they enter the training room.” No one moves to withdraw. Young, confident idiots that think they are immortal. They will soon learn.
“Reeves. You are up first, training room one. Hunt fast, hunt well.” As he jogs off, I turn to the others. “You people may as well sit down. It is going to be a long day.”
And so it was. We lost the use of training room one for an hour while maintenance cleared the remains of candidate Silver off the lights, but that was the exception. Clearing the blood and torn flesh usually only took 5 minutes. Suilien proved as fast as he claimed, meaning instead of the expected 20 deaths, there were only 6. Of the 19 survivors, twelve were going to require some serious hospital time, including two of the successes, Reeves and Mortimer. Six candidates remained unscathed by panicking and banishing their opponent. The third successful candidate, Ngomo, was more or less unscratched. Still whisked off to the hospital though, to start enhancements.
A gentle throat clearing behind me. “Sir?” del Toro. “I wish to withdraw my application for trial, though I would be honoured to serve on your team in my normal capacity” I look at him.
“I understand,” I say gently. “Stop by the chapel on your way to your quarters. It helps. Sometimes, anyway.” He bows slightly and withdraws.
“Suilien, what about you?” Deliberately offhand.
Her voice was steady, though she was drawn and pale from the efforts of the day. “I will be trialled. When it is convenient for your mission.”
“Khorosho, chapel first for you too , then spa. Report to briefing room 4 at 17:00 tomorrow. Welcome to the team.” She looks strained but happy. “Now get going, I have some hospital visits to make.” And some calls to make too, to the families of the dead. Chapel and spa are starting to sound good.
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