Larsa and company found themselves assigned to the Australian outback, a historically favoured location for testing rookies early on in the month.

  “Alright, aspiring hunters, it's time to get in touch with your inner Crocodile Dundee.”

  Inquisitor Juan Puno spoke to the crowd of novices, most of whom had a look of confusion or controlled neutrality in response.

  “A lot of them are too young to get the reference, Inquisitor!”

  Miranda clasped her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice from several yards away, seated on a eucalyptus tree’s branch overlooking a swamp. She was on lookout in case any monster or civilian happened to pass by.

  The Spanish Inquisitor mumbled something under his breath, which sounded like “uncultured swine.”

  Upon realizing he was still the centre of attention, he deflected ‘smoothly’ (blatantly) from his gaffe with a perfect white smile and a wink, which was met with a few higher-pitched giggles and even squeals from certain parts of the audience.

  Having now had an interaction of sorts with every Inquisitor, Larsa wasn't quite sure what to make of this one.

  Inquisitor Juan didn't have the mystique of Edward, Yoko or Claudia; nor was he as approachable as Rutger, Rebecca or Buster. There was something superficial about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

  One thing was for sure: she wasn't going to fall for his charms. Mainly because the idea of romance was still somewhat connected to her recently departed dad.

  She could still remember the time his overprotective nature was at its worst, she was at high school prom, and Archie Masterson ended up following along, climbing up into the gymnasium ceiling rafters to make sure her date did nothing untoward during the event. The poor boy said he felt as if someone were watching him like a hawk, if only he had known.

  “You're all smiles. Still thinking about how much shit you got Mei Li in with her teacher?”

  Milo sounded off next to her, his right hand clutching a cup of coffee he brought over from base.

  “No, just thinking about…an old friend.”

  She was about to follow up and ask Milo why he was talking to her while the Inquisitor was giving a speech, before she realized Juan had taken a break to adjust his hair with a comb and check his appearance in a small pocket mirror he carried with him.

  “He’s got, what's it called? Body Dysmorphic Disorder, I think? Basically, he can't really function unless he looks perfect.”

  Milo responded without her needing to ask, the regular dictionary he was becoming.

  “He’s a bare-handed martial artist who will either spill gallons of monster blood or get maimed on any given night with that problem?”

  It sounded like a strange paradox to Larsa; then again, she wasn't sure if she should even be surprised anymore at yet another bizarre quirk. Milo merely shrugged his shoulders at her inquiry.

  At least, while there was a free moment, she had another nagging question she wanted to ask.

  “The sun and moon are in the same positions as they were over in the Vatican City; that doesn't make any sense?”

  It was something she had meant to ask the night before in America, but first-time jitters made it slip her mind until now.

  “That's one thing I don't know the answer to either. Not even Dr. Norton or his eggheads could come up with a perfect explanation for why time zones are all funky during October. Their best guess was a bunch of babble about spatial distortions. Regardless, day and night happen at the same time everywhere in the world right now.”

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  “And how is it that there’s not mass panic or hysteria about this every year?”

  “Look, Larsa, we're becoming decent pals, but I don't want to have to spoon-feed you every last detail. I disagree with Mei Li that you don't belong, but I do wonder why Inquisitor Rutger rushed you through even the crash course on basic concepts. It's not fair to you at all. After we finish up tonight, how about you go to the library? I'm sure you'll get a lot of your questions answered there.”

  Milo rubbed his eyes and yawned after his spiel, immediately proceeding to take a deep sip from his cup.

  Larsa felt a bit guilty; Milo was clearly crankier than usual after giving her his miracle pills instead of taking them himself, now having to rely on the good old-fashioned method of staying awake. She'd have to remember to make it up to him later.

  After an affirmative sound to indicate she'd take his advice, Larsa returned her attention to the Inquisitor, who had finished up his beauty check.

  “Because I am incredibly clever, I've come up with a genius method on how to run this hunt. I'll have all of you draw straws, and you'll be in groups of three with whoever matches, fanning out in all directions.”

  Inquisitor Puno smirked, waiting for praise.

  “That's basically what Inquisitor Gravely had them do with extra steps!”

  Despite Miranda’s halved vision, she certainly wasn't wanting for hearing, or maybe she was just hyper aware of any opportunities to mess with Juan.

  “Ahem, well, you see, I'm smarter than average, so naturally my plans will have more detail to them.”

  Larsa wondered how Rebecca would take Juan calling her average, presumably, at the bare minimum, a cigarette flick to the face would be coming his way.

  Nevertheless, she, along with the rest of the group, lined up to pick their straws, knowing her luck, this probably wasn't going to be a good outcome.

  ————————

  While Juan Puno didn't seem to have the personality of a ‘taskmaster’ as had been described, his job for them certainly showed it; he wanted each hunter to kill a total of two monsters, in other words, six per group. This was to prove that they were, in his own terms, “Above average like him.”

  The far more concerning thing to Larsa was what was currently facing her team of three:

  Silence.

  That was what she was greeted with in the backseat of the dune buggy; the order had rented numerous vehicles from the locals to help get around the vast open expanses on their hunt, making sure to use the Oblitus spell to convince them the Templars were just tourists.

  Larsa was beginning to wonder if her two partners had also been hit and had no idea who she was.

  She ended up drawing the same straw as a Russian man with several tattoos across his neck and a bald head, named Ilja, who was behind the wheel, and, in the passenger seat next to him, a mousy-looking girl named Holly, who hardly looked like a warrior.

  “Any strategy or tactics you two want to go over?” Her question was met once more with quiet.

  They were beginning to make Bronson look like the world's most fantastic conversationalist…

  “Look, the last time I had an uncooperative partner, he got murdered by a Hydra and washed away in a river. I'd rather we not end up the same.”

  “All about you, isn't it?” Ilja finally spoke, but with an apparent contempt in his voice.

  Holly jolted her head to look at him, shocked at his bluntness.

  “Excuse me?” Larsa responded, not anticipating the hostility from this man, who, apart from loitering around in the same areas, had never interacted with her before.

  “I was at the training grounds, and I think that Asian lady had you pegged, da? Even we rookies have heard about Archie Masterson, the one too proud to be an Inquisitor or some bullshit. And look at you, his daughter, getting chummy with the proctors who have a hand in determining if we pass. I didn't spend years in the Russian military before coming here to be outshone by daddy's little girl.”

  His accent was thick, but his meaning was crystal clear.

  “I can see it in your eyes, you came here to be a hero just like you think of him, but the reality is none of us are heroes, we're just soldiers of a different name, nothing glorious about it.”

  Now it was Larsa’s turn to be silent. He wasn't entirely wrong. She joined to do two things: carry on her father's legacy and find a place where she would feel she belonged. So far, neither was exactly panning out as she would like.

  “Y-you two…can you please not do this? It's already been hours, and we haven't run into any monsters; at this rate, we’ll get our first strike…I don't want to fail again.”

  Holly attempted to play the role of an unconfident mediator.

  She was talking about the method they'd be judged by: the seven Inquisitors and two chaperones would all get a vote on whether each rookie was ready for regular duties after the first week. Three strikes or more meant it was a wrap, and they’d be doing the initiation process over the next year.

  Juan’s goal for them, of course, implicitly carried his voting decision.

  “She’s the one gaming the system! Need I remind you that, aside from the wind mage and rifle woman, her family has history with Sanders; she was seen eating with Biggs, and I'd bet good rubles she wanted to impress Uematsu by sparring with her trainee. It's obvious she’ll take shortcuts that the rest of us can't.”

  She was going to tell him that it wasn't true and that she was just being friendly…well, in reality, she was going to say he was full of horseshit, but before she had the chance, the ground beneath them began to rumble.

  While the open area, nothing but dirt and shrubbery, wouldn't conceal anything on the surface, the subterranean world below was a different story. The earth beneath the buggy lifted, causing it to spin over onto its side.

  The group climbed out of the upturned vehicle, luckily unharmed, to witness an enormous creature, close to the size of a house, burst out of the soil as if it were water rather than a solid.

  What seemed like its head peeled back in four strips to look like a flower, rows of jagged teeth on each strip and also the centre’s cavernous mouth hole.

  A Giant Sandworm was what these things were called, nothing cute or fancy in the naming, just a nightmarish version of an animal most considered mundane.

  If the three hunters didn't get their act together, they'd be worm food in the most literal sense.