Going out at night was hardly the safest thing, but considering the fact that a pair of Mismarians were present, they were safer now than they were ever going to be, and if they were serious about pursuing this vocation, they would have to do it regularly. Asher led them through the city, sticking mostly to the larger thoroughfares, though that much was hardly relevant. Imogen brought up the rear, letting the recruits walk in the middle.
And situated in the very middle of the procession was the blonde haired man, since having introduced himself as Rabbit. Out in the open night air, he walked with a mechanical gait, his hands clutching the handlebars of the bike he'd brought along, guiding it along and his lips clenching the butt of a lit cigarette. It wasn't much of a stretch to infer that the man was uncomfortable. However, it did seem to have a positive effect as well. He appeared to be much more alert, his eyes darting to and fro, even venturing upward on more than one occasions, and when he spoke, he spoke at just above a whisper.
"This brings me back. Only the brave or the fucking stupid wander around at night," he muttered to the non-Mismarians. It had the unintended side effect of raising brows and narrowing eyes around him, but if they were expecting him to go into more detail, they were sadly mistaken. "Hey, Boss," he called out to Asher, "How's the..." Rabbit hesitated, his face betraying the process of trying to find the right words to ask, "the, uh.. Vamp activity? Around this area." For a man who wanted to join their club, Rabbit was doing a poor job of hiding the fact that he was out of his element.
Asher didnât glance back over his shoulder, because to do so would be to make his eyes useless in their protection for however long he had them angled backwards. Nevertheless, he didnât have a problem answering the question. âThere has not been anything much reported, of late,â he replied, âBut I am aware that even this much is a risk. Thatâs why the first phase of your training will be happening somewhere safer.â He chose not to elaborate further, but that was not to say that Imogen was of the same mind.
"Itâs important to learn to move around at night,â she added, her tone unusually direct. "But we wonât be letting you get eaten just yet. For the first month or so, youâll be training in the Opal Quarter.â That was, indeed, where Asher was leading them. He might have chosen not to reveal the duration of their safety however; the constant sense that tomorrow could be much more dangerous was one of the psychological factors that he remembered having weeded out a fair number of recruits when they had first undergone the trials. But he trusted his sister, and he knew that, all appearances to the contrary, she had a reason for just about everything she did.
"We should've taken that last right if we're going to the Opal Quarter. Would've shaved our time down by a few minutes," Rabbit added, though more quietly. Presently, the man seemed to know his place.
"Because walking a bunch of helpless recruits down a dark alley in Outer London at night isnât an unnecessary risk at all.â That was from the diminutive redhead, since identified as Piper. She wore a grim sort of expression, but it was hard to tell if it was brought about by the circumstances or just the way her face looked at rest. She had to take a stride and a half for most of the other candidatesâ single steps, given that the majority of them were rather tall, physically-fit individuals, and she was quite small. Still, she showed no signs of being strained by it, of yet.
A soft snort escaped Asher; that girl was quite possibly more deadpan than he was. There would almost be something disconcerting about that, if he didnât think it would serve her well. Rabbit, tooâit was a rare person who could survive in this line of work with no sense of humor. And any sense that wasnât already black as pitch died pretty quickly.
Though it was not the most efficient of routes, they did indeed reach the Opal Quarter in good time. There were only night guards at the gate at this point, and they always stood on the safe side of it. Asher glanced back and nodded to Imogen, who smiled dreamily and approached the bars. Poking her head through, she removed something from her pocket and waved it around, though it was impossible to hear what she was saying. Asher suspected it was just her credentials, but one never knew for sure with Imogen.
Either way, they were through a few moments later, and the gate clanged into place behind them. Asher led them for only a little while longer before he stopped, signaling for all of them to do the same. âForm a line, please.â Once everyone was more or less shoulder-to-shoulder, and Imogen had come to stand beside him in front of them, he nodded slightly, reaching up and grasping the hood on either side of his head. He pulled it down more because it was rude to continually talk to people from within its confines than because he wanted to; in fact he quite hated doing so.
The reason was clear enoughâthe entire left half of his face was a hashed mess of scar tissue, raised white lines jagged and rough even against the fairness of his complexion. His left eye was a milky blue-white, the brow above it cut in half by another mark. Even a chunk of his ear was missing, the top of the shell skimmed off by something. He pretended there was nothing unusual about it, and hoped dearly that they would take his lead as well as they could in that. âAs most of you know, Iâm Asher Drake. This is my sister, Imogen, and weâre both Hunters.â He pursed his lips together.
âThat said⊠this is our first time recruiting or training. You should all know that the Order of Mismar is dealing with a significant personnel shortage. The circumstances are dire, else they would have made sure to send at least one experienced trainer here. But they didnât, and so you get us. If thatâs a problem, youâre welcome to wait until the next time someone with experience comes by.â It probably wouldnât be for a while, though. There was no mistaking that for a lot of these people, this was their one chance. Still, he felt obligated to let them know just what they were dealing with.
âRecruitment isnât competitive, really. Thereâs more than enough chance that youâll give up or fail all on your own. We take everyone who can do all the things weâll ask of you. I donât expect our skills to be up to snuff yet, but I expect you to get better, and I expect you to do what we tell you to do. If you can manage that, the rest of it is our responsibility. I can promise that we take it very seriously.â He pulled in a breath, and then exhaled heavily. âIf youâre all still interested, weâll move onto the first exercise.â He paused a moment for anyone to leave or protest, but when no one did, he glanced over to Imogen, who reached into one of the pockets of her dress and removed what looked to be a purple silk scarf. It was about as long as her arm.
"Iâve hidden two of these somewhere in the Opal Quarter, within this square mile. Not necessarily on ground level,â she smiled again, this one containing a touch of mischief. "There are twelve of you. The object of the exercise is to find the scarves and bring them back to me. The winners will be the people who can do this, and the losers will have to do laps around the Quarter.â
Asher just barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. âTwo important skills for Hunters are observation and the ability to move quickly and efficiently through any terrain. Stealing the scarves from others is not against the rules, but you arenât permitted to harm each other. Clear?â
Aeron, who introduced himself earlier after Rabbit, remained quiet, listening to the conversation going about. He remained silent, even after they were told to line up, and continued surveying the current situation. He seemed at ease, relaxed almost, however; there seemed to be a stiffness to his stance. Perhaps it was just nerves working themselves out? He remained quiet even still, listening to the hunters and seemed intent on staring past Asher rather than looking straight at him. Whether it was out of courtesy to ignore the scars, or some other reason, he did not say.
"Steal two scarves, sounds simple enough," Aeron spoke, sliding a hand into pockets with a hunched stance. There was a hint of sarcasm, or something like spite, leaking in the words he spoke, but he should have known that things were never that simple. He did, after all, volunteer. "Where do we start?" was the only question Aeron seemed to have for them.
The corner of Asher's mouth ticked up almost imperceptibly on the good side. With his left hand, he made a wide sweeping gesture, as if to encompass the whole of the surrounding area.
âWherever you want."