Beast

Sophie had grown up in a highly religious family. They went to church every Sunday, she and her mother wearing conservative cotton dresses, and her father and brother in khakis and button down shirts. They said grace before every meal, prayed before they went to sleep, and they all had crosses above their beds. For her eighth birthday, Sophie received her grandmother's old rosary, a beautiful piece carved out of wood and painted white. It was the best gift she had ever received.

But despite that, her parents had taught her to never rely on a man. The Christian religion is often viewed as being sexist, and if it is, that was certainly a part that Sophie's parents had chosen to ignore. Her mother taught her to be strong and her father taught her to be smart.
"Never ever, ever let someone tell you you're not good enough. You decide what you want, then you don't quit 'til you get it. You're not just as good as everyone else, you're better," The first time her father had told her this, Sophie was five, and he had been telling her that ever since. Don't just be better, be the best. Sophie had always been right up there, competing with the boys. Whether it was playing soccer, or taking a math test, Sophie had no goal other than to be the best. She often was.

That's why Sophie wasn't intimidated as she walked into the large, concrete building that Sunday, surrounded mostly by men. She kept her head up high, because she would be the best. It didn't matter how hard she had to work. Even if she couldn't be the strongest, she could be the smartest, she could be the fastest, she could be the cleverest. She wasn't intimidated, because this was what she wanted and there was nothing that could stop her before she got it.

It was a rainy day, so Sophie's black shoes squeaked on the floor as she made her way over to the polite secretary whom she had met a few days earlier, the one who had directed her to the room where she had waited for Mr. Brown.

"Hello, how may I help you?" the young, dark skinned woman asked with a friendly smile. Her black hair was braided and pulled back, and her navy blazer and pencil skirt were all business. Her face was pretty, a natural kind of attractiveness.

"I begin training today," Sophie answered, handing the secretary, whose name tag read Chantal, the slip of lavender colored paper. Chantal's eyes quickly skimmed over it, as if she had seen several of a similar kind before and was just going through the motions.

"Excellent," she smiled again, "Waddi will be out to see you in a moment. Just take a seat."

"Thank you," Sophie said as Chantal handed the paper back to her.

Sophie sat down in one of the plush, blue waiting chairs. It was much warmer in the lofty room than it had been outside, so she unzipped her rain jacket and stared longingly out the window to her left, where the cool raindrops pelted the ground. Sophie loved the rain. She always had. There was something about it that just seemed so free, like the world was taking out all of its frustrations and having a good cry. It was the kind of crying that comes not from weakness, but from being strong for too long, Sophie thought.

"Sophie?" She heard a voice say from somewhere nearby. There was a hint of a Brooklyn accent in his voice, as if he hadn't been back home in a long time. She looked up and saw a tall, baby faced man with a shaved head and deep, ebony skin.

"That's me," she said, standing up and shaking his hand. He was the kind of guy who had to wring your hand with both of his, warm and welcoming. He had grown up and remained the same way that we are all born; innocent, gentle, and without a single mark of evil or greed on his face.

"Aright! I'm Waddi," he said and waved to the secretary as they walked by. The secretary and the guide looked so much alike, they could have been brother and sister, "and I'm going to be showing you around today. Now, this building is mostly for the pencil pushers, and the guys like me who deal with the fluff, recruiting, and getting the word out there. You know the deal. You're probably not going to be spending a lot of time here, but you know, it's still important to get the low down on everything that goes on here."

As he said this, they walked past closed doors and plain white walls. Inconspicuous to an outsider, but those there on business knew better. The noise of the main room became fainter. The farther down the hall that Waddi and Sophie walked, the fewer people that seemed to trickle past them.

"We do a lot of public awareness. You know, safety tips, and in case of emergency stuff. We're like the buffer between the civilians, and the people like you who are here to keep them safe."
He pushed open a door at the end of the brilliantly lit hallway, and they descended down a flight of stairs.

"I'm sure growing up you heard the sirens and saw the ads and the infomercials. That's all us. The important guys tell us what to say and what they want the people to know, and then that's what we tell the public," Waddi cleared his throat, then continued, "It's not like they're trying to brainwash the people or nothin', but it's like any operation. You can't tell the public everything. That would be a serious breach of security. Imagine if the FBI announced everything that they had in the works. It would be a mess."

Waddi talked with a zealousness that made his passion for the organization obvious. It was reassuring to see someone who believed in a cause so deeply. You would have liked him. He was the type of guy you couldn't help but to like.

"Now, we're going down to what we like to call, 'the loading dock.' Basically, it's where the recruits take off from and go to the training ground. The train's underground, of course. It's all part of keeping the training location hush hush. Any questions?"

Sophie shook her head, but felt a tiny smile grace her lips. There was something about this secret train system that reminded her of the Hogwarts Express. She used to love reading those books as a kid.

Waddi smiled, "Great, I must be doing my job right then. Hey, you're last name's Bayer, right?"

"Yes,"

"You're not related to Julius, are you?"

"He's my older brother," Sophie said, accustomed to this. People always passed their expectations of Julius on to her. She did her best to live up to them.

"Alright!" Waddi beamed, "Man, he's good people. He really is. He helped me out of more than a few tough spots. I was out on the field myself for a few short months. I wasn't much good at it. Too clumsy and too sensitive, if I'm gonna be honest. We're lucky to have him out there though, we really are. If you've got half the talent and half the brains he's got, then you're going to be an incredible agent."

"Thanks," Sophie said, returning the smile.

They were at the bottom of the stairs now, which led a small train station.

"All right then, this is the end of our travels. Good-bye and good luck then, Sophie," Waddi said.

"Thanks, it was nice to meet you."

"Likewise. 'Till next time," he said, giving Sophie a friendly wave, then taking the stairs two at a time.

Sophie turned towards the rows of metal benches, half full with other hopefuls. With her confidence boosted, she took a few steps towards the bench nearest her, sitting a few feet away from a pair of men chatting in what she believed to be Turkish, although she couldn't be completely sure.

Sophie checked her watch, and saw that there were fifteen minutes to spare before their train was due to arrive. She tapped her foot on the ground, looking around and scoping out the other people whom she would soon be training with.

Most of them were quite young, but still older than her, perhaps in their thirties or late twenties. There was a mix of both men and women, boasting a variety of different ethnicities and styles. Across from her sat a young woman with a green Mohawk, steel-toed boots and a leather jacket, and a few seats over from the woman, there was a man of either Greek or Italian descent. He was dressed in a smart, gray suit, similar to something Julius would probably wear, with slicked back hair, a handsome face, and smoldering, dark eyes that glimmered with an unmistakable, sharp-witted intelligence.

Perhaps five minutes after Sophie's own arrival, a young woman was escorted down the stairs by a sour-faced man, who appeared to lack any of Waddi's enthusiasm. The woman thanked him, and he nodded. She grimaced as he turned around, then walked briskly over to the benches, taking a seat next to Sophie.

People eyed the newcomer, then soon lost interest and went back to whatever they were doing.
She was pretty, Sophie thought. She had brown hair with sloppily cut bangs, indicating that she cut them herself, and smooth, ivory skin. She had on dark red lipstick, and messily applied mascara framed her wide, curious blue eyes. She was wearing a tan trench coat, dark jeans, and scuffed, worn out boots, with a green shoulder bag. There was something very particular about this woman's seemingly organized chaos.

"Hello, I'm Etienne," the woman said to Sophie, flashing a smile, and sticking out her hand for Sophie to shake.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Sophie," Sophie said, shaking Etienne's hand.

"Ah! Sophie, what a pretty name."

"Thank you. You're accent, are you from Paris?" Sophie asked.

"No, but you're close. I'm from Versailles, just outside of the city," Etienne answered jovially.

"Oh. My mom was from Paris, that's why I ask."

"Vraiment? What's her surname? Maybe I know her," Etienne inquired excitedly, as if she knew everyone from Paris. Sophie doubted that Etienne would know who her mother was, but nonetheless, supplied her with her mother's maiden name.

"Marion Lambert. She moved from France a long time ago though, and I think her family was originally from Belgium,"

"Marion Lambert," Etienne mumbled to herself. "Nope, that name does not ring any bells. Parlez-vous le francais?" Do you speak French?

"Eh, oui, un petit peu, mais je suis... quel le mot pour out of practice?" Um ,yes, a little bit, but I am... what's the word for out of practice? Sophie asked sheepishly. It had been a long time since she had spoken French to anybody, although she had been relatively fluent in it while she had still been in school.

Etienne smiled and waved her hand. "Out of practice? I am not sure of the French word for it, but right now I am anxious to be going, and I think our train is late, or maybe my watch is just fast."

Sophie glanced down at her watch once again. They had a little bit less than ten minutes.
"It would not be so bad, but I have no idea of what to expect!" Etienne exclaimed, completely unembarrassed by the people listening in on their conversation.

"Yeah, everyone's in the same boat though. I'm sure it won't bad that bad," Sophie said, trying to calm herself as well as Etienne.

"You're probably right. It's like the first day of school or of a new job. It's never as scary as you expect, but you can't stop being nervous until you're actually there. You know?"

"Exactly," Sophie agreed.

"Ugh, I remember in school we had to where the most hideous uniforms! They fabric was so scratchy and ugly. Our skirts were like... this olive color," Etienne made a face as she described it, "It was dreadful. At the very least, we do not have to wear hideous uniforms here."

Sophie smiled, "Yes, I guess so."

"I had this one professor, he was a dinosaur. Really. He coughed up dust. I have never in my life met someone who so stubbornly defied death. He suffered three heart attacks and had only one lung by the time I had him at University. He was not even five feet tall, and every day, he would stand at the front of the classroom and just lecture in his cobweb voice. You could barely hear him. It probably would have killed him to talk louder though. His name was Professor Harrison. He was British. With his quiet, quiet voice, combined with his thick, thick accent, you could hardly understand a word he said. He taught world religions though. It was a very interesting class," Etienne explained, "He was the one who first suggested that I study criminal psychology. It was strange, coming from an expert on religious studies, but he said that I was vigilant and had a keen, analytical eye. He was a very good judge of character. I guess that if it wasn't for my dull, ancient professor, I wouldn't be here. He turned ninety-seven just last month. Can you believe that? My husband and I had him over for dinner a few days ago, as a send off, I guess, for me. I love that man, Professor Harrison. He is like a second father to me."

Sophie thought it was kind of funny that Etienne could describe someone whom she was so close to as a, 'boring dinosaur,' but didn't say anything about it.

"How long have you and your husband been married?" Sophie asked politely.

"Three years in September," Etienne beamed, "Hugo is the most beautiful person I have ever met in my life. So, so handsome. You would like him, I think. He is very smart, he's a biochemist, and he is very funny. We've known each since we were children. I met him when I used to visit my grandmother in Germany. I spent many summers there, and Hugo's family lived next door. We've been together since we were teenagers. But what about you? Do you have a man in your life?"

Sophie shook her head. "No. No one serious, anyway."

Etienne raised an eyebrow, "No one serious, eh? That means there is someone. But dating is fun, you should enjoy yourself."

Just then, a blonde woman in a powder blue ensemble marched through the small crowd, her dated heels clacking against the cement floor as she did. She was petite, and looked to be about forty years old. She walked with her shoulders back, very self-assured. There was something quite cheerful and almost girlish about her. Once she was in front of all the benches, she cleared her throat to get everyone's attention.

"Excuse me everyone, my name is Sunny Grisham. The train will be arriving in a few short minutes, and when it does, I ask that everyone gather their things and board the train in a neat and orderly fashion. Now, you'll notice that in the top right corner of you forms there is a sequence of numbers and letters," she paused for a moment while everyone, there were perhaps twenty of them, checked their numbers. Sunny waited patiently as people ruffled through their pockets and bags for their forms. Sophie had hers already in her lap and quickly saw that in the corner it read 2A7-F-2R.

"Has everyone found their numbers? Good. Now, the first part corresponds with the compartment you will be sitting in on the train. You will be split into two groups because you will be going through different courses once we arrive, depending on your prior experience, your goals, and Mr. Brown's recommendation for you. You will be debriefed during the train ride there. People with code 1Q9 will be in the first compartment, and people with code 2A7 will be in the second compartment. Any questions?" Sunny glanced around at her audience, her hands clasped in front of her. No one admitted to having any, although Sophie wondered if one program was better than the other.

"Good. Okay, and now the second part should be a letter. It refers to where you will be boarding once we reach the training grounds. Those with a letter in the first half of the alphabet, A through M, will be boarding in the first building, and those with a letter in the second half of the alphabet, N through Z, will be boarding in the second building. Both buildings are virtually the same. It is all apartment style living, and you will have up to three roommates.

"And now the final sequence refers to who you will be partners with, unless of course, there are extenuating circumstances. You are free to change this arrangement, but this is whom we feel will best fit and balance you once you begin work on the field. We are rarely wrong. This should contain a number followed by a letter and it should match your partner's. Does anyone have any questions?"

A middle aged man with shaggy, dark blond hair and a thick beard raised his hand. "Yes?" Sunny asked, pointing at him. He was a few rows to the right of Sophie.

"What happens if your assigned partner is discharged or drops out of training? Who would you be matched up with then?" the man had a very deep, scratchy voice. It was a good question, and there were a few murmurs of agreement from among the crowd.

"It's very rare that someone doesn't make it through training. It's even more unusual that one partner would be discharged without the other. However, it has been known to happen, and if it does, you will be assigned a new partner from a list of other unassigned agents. Does that answer your question?"

The man nodded.

"Great," Sunny smiled, "Does anyone else have any questions?"

"When does training begin? Right when we arrive?" someone else asked. Sophie didn't get a chance to see who.

"When we arrive at the training grounds, you're given a few hours to settle in and have dinner, then you all are taken on a tour of the facilities. Training officially beings tomorrow. You'll also each be given a schedule during your debriefing on the train," Sunny responded, then pointed to the green-haired girl, "Yes?"

"What's the policy on leaving the training grounds?"

"You're free to travel outside of the grounds as you please. There are seven cars that can be signed out at any time, you just have to sign them out and sign them back in. You also have to have your ID, which you will receive tomorrow, to get back onto the grounds. The only rule really is that if you choose to leave the grounds and miss any part of training, unless there are extenuating circumstances, you are immediately expelled and cannot reenter the training program. It may sound harsh, but no one has have be discharged from training for such a reason. Oh, and you of course cannot discuss any of your training with anyone outside the agency, but that's all in the security contract you will have to sign later on today. There's a grocery store, a Laundromat, and a physician on the grounds, as well as a few other necessities, so it's not that you have to leave for any reason, but of course, it's nice to get away every once in a while."

The green-haired girl nodded.

"No more questions?" Sunny asked for a final time when no more hands were raised. "Great. We still have about a minute before the train should be here, so for now, I suggest you gather your things and find your partner. Between you and me, the train conductor is a little grumpy and he doesn't like to run late. He's left without people before."

A few people in the crowd chuckled as everyone stood up.

"Who do you have?" Etienne asked, snatching the lavender form out of Sophie's hands. "2R, moi aussi! How lucky are you?"

Sophie was relieved. She liked Etienne, and at least she knew her partner would be someone friendly and nice.

The train arrived, and everyone found their seats quickly, perhaps fearing being left behind. Inside of the compartment were two rows of plastic seats, which faced each other. Sophie sat between Etienne and the green-haired girl.

Besides the three women, there were also three men, all of whom sat in the row opposite the them, and none of whom had chosen to sit next to one another. They stowed their luggage on the racks overhead and once they were settled, a man entered their compartment.
He appeared to be in his late thirties, Sophie thought. He had buzzed, brown hair, handsome gray eyes, and a gaunt, almost bored looking, face. He was tall and skinny, but muscular and mean looking. He stood with his feet shoulder width apart and his arms crossed in front of his chest. His stance made it very clear that he was not someone who you wanted to pick a fight with.

There was a slight jolt as the train left the station, and the man stood in front of them, keeping his balance perfectly.

"I'm Zane Dalca," he began. There was something eastern European in his accent, but Sophie couldn't quite place it. Serbian perhaps? "I'm going to be with you for the next six months as one of your captains. I'm a level A agent, and I've been with the agency for the past thirteen years, mostly field work. Besides me, you'll have two other captains during your six month training. I cover the field work, Rita Bishop deals with the research end of things, and Martin Lu is an expert on the management side. You'll meet them tomorrow.

"As your captain, I'm going to be honest with each and every one of you. If I don't think you're cut out for this, I'll say it, and you can try and prove me wrong. So if we're going for honesty, here's how the groups are split up; age. Plain and simple. You are the youngest, the least experienced," he stopped and looked at the ceiling as he carefully chose his next words, "but the thing is, that's what makes you better. Previous experience, expert training, age, it doesn't count for anything once you're here. Or at least, it doesn't count for anything good."

Zane paused to let the information sink in. He smirked, perhaps amused by the confused looks on some of their faces.

"Anywhere else, you'd all be at a huge disadvantage, but here, that's not the case. You've still got imagination and drive. That's the most important thing. You're not stuck in your ways like some old NYC detective who thinks he knows it all. Once you step onto this train, you don't know anything. You're back at square one. And that's why the agency invests the most in you, because you have the most potential. The agency thinks it can mould you into exactly the type of agents it wants you to be."

This was oddly encouraging and discouraging at the same time.

"The younger recruits pick things up faster than the older guys. You're still willing to learn. Trust me, I've dealt with older recruits before, and they don't take too kindly to being told what to do."
Dalca opened a cabinet to his right and pulled out six red folders.

"These contain your schedule for the next six months, as well as your contract with the agency, and other information you need to know during your time here," he explained as he passed the folders out. Sophie flipped through the pages with interest, anxious to begin. This was just starting to seem real, and she was ready to prove herself. She would be the best.

Once everyone had gotten a folder and had focused their attention back on Dalca, he said, "Alright, now's as good a time as any to get to know everyone. Let's just go around and say your name, where you're from, and what got you interested in the agency. Uh, why don't you start?" he pointed at Etienne.

"Hello," Etienne said brightly, smiling and looking around at everyone. "I'm Etienne Reiker, I'm originally from Versailles, France, but a few years ago, my husband and I relocated to London, England. I became interested in the agency after college. A school friend of mine works in the compliance department here and thought I might be interested in the field work, so she recommended me."

Sophie was next, "Hi, I'm Sophie Bayer. I'm from Boston, Massachusetts. My brother is a field agent, and I've always wanted to join too."

"Julius?" Dalca asked.

"Yeah," Sophie nodded. It seemed that everyone with the agency knew her brother.

Dalca's face broke out into a smile, revealing a man whose appearance could not have been less of a reflection of the man within, "Nice! I got Julius Bayer's sister in my group. We're going to kick ass. You've got big shoes to fill, my dear."

"So I've heard."

Dalca smirked, then pointed to the green-haired girl.

"I'm Brandy Lohman. I'm from Phili," she said tersely.

"What made you want to join the agency?" Dalca asked with polite curiosity. Lohman didn't answer, but just stared at him.

After a few awkward seconds, Dalca was wise enough not to push it and looked at the man sitting across the aisle from Sophie.

"I'm Davey Reed. I'm from LA. My little brother got attacked when I was a kid. I'm here to kill the fucker who did it."

Solemn silence washed over the room. Most people knew someone who had been attacked, but it was something that was rarely talked about, almost taboo.

Sophie glanced over at Davey. He was slouched in his seat, wearing old jeans, sagged at the waste, and a black sweatshirt with the hood up, almost covering his eyes. He looked like he might have been of Native American ancestry, somewhere far back in his family history. He had smooth, dark hair, high cheek bones, and tan skin with red undertones.

He and Sophie made eye contact for a moment. His stare was ice, daring her to stare back. Sophie turned away and looked at the next man to speak.

"Hey everyone, I'm Mike Sped. I'm from Ohio. I'm interested in the research department, mainly psychology."

Mike was vertically cursed. He barely scraped past five foot five, shorter than Sophie. His messy, reddish-blond hair looked like he didn't wash it often, and he was skinny as a rail. He was very twitchy and nervous looking, like he was afraid of everything.

"Psychology? Nice. You'll probably spend a lot of time with Rita Bishop then. She's the head of the research department, and she's a published author on criminal psychology. She's a brilliant woman," Dalca said then looked towards the last person to introduce themselves, the man with the nice suit whom Sophie thought was either Greek or Italian.

"Hello," he raised his hand as he turned to face the other people in the train compartment, "I'm Max Giannoni. I am originally from Italy, but moved to New York with my family when I was very young. Like Mr. Reed, I have also had the misfortune of a family member being attacked. I don't want to kill the fuckers, as our friend so eloquently put it, but I've wanted to be a part of this organization since I was a teenager."

"Okay," Dalca said loudly and clapped his hands together, drawing everyone out of whatever trance they had been in, "Let's just get started with the basics. You'll probably know most of the stuff we're going to go over already, but it's routine.

"So first of all, who can tell me what the Fortis is?" Dalca asked, walking up and down the aisle between the seats. He was right, this was basic stuff.

"The Fortis is the agency we're trying to join right now. It has several different functions, but the main one is the extermination of the blood-thirsty menace. The fuckers, as Mr. Reed likes to call them, are more formally known as the sanguinarium. The sanguinarium are a species with whom humans share a common ancestor, and therefore bear a striking resemblance to humans," Max Giannoni answered.

Dalca was pleased, "Great. That's exactly right. I guess I don't have to ask my next question then, what are the sanguinarium?"

Sophie shifted in her seat. The hard plastic was uncomfortable and she was starting to get stiff from sitting still for too long. The compartment was small, it would probably seat no more than fifteen people, and it was considerably cleaner than any train she had have been in before, but that by no means meant that it was nice.

The linoleum floor was peeling up in a few places, and one of the yellow lights overhead kept flickering. When Sophie looked out the windows, she saw nothing but blackness. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands in an attempt to keep her claustrophobia from setting in. This wasn't going to be a fun train ride.

Sophie took a deep breath in and a deep breath out, feeling the knot in her stomach grow, and the dizzying vice grip on her brain tighten. I will be fine, Sophie told herself. I will stay calm and be fine. There is nothing whatsoever to be afraid of. But she knew that rational thinking was of no use. She knew that the harder she tried not to think about it, the more she would inevitably think about it.

Sophie hadn't had a panic attack in years, but she was getting that walls closing in feeling, and there was a buzzing in her head that would not go away.

Push it away. You will be fine. You can't show that kind of weakness on your very first day, and on the train ride there no less. But they still had an hour and a half to go, and Sophie didn't know if she would be able to handle herself for that long. She took a long gulp from the water bottle she had in her bag and closed her eyes. She felt a little better.

"Now, the biggest question facing the Fortis is, what to do with the sanguinarium once we find them. Do we kill them? Do we capture them? Do we release them somewhere in the wild? And if we do release them, then where? And if we capture them, what do we do with them? Thoughts?" Dalca asked anyone who wanted to answer, standing at the far end of the compartment, looking at them with interest.

"Shoot 'em all and let 'em bleed out," Reed muttered, inspecting the cuffs of his sweatshirt.

"That's barbaric. We call ourselves civilized, whatever that means. If we are going to hold ourselves to a higher standard, then we must act accordingly," Max said, exasperated. It was becoming increasingly clear to everyone that Reed and Max were not going to get along.

Reed sneered.

"What do you think we should do, Giannoni?" Dalca asked Max.

"Well, I mean, I do see the advantage of killing them. It seems like the easiest option, but there has to be a more humane way. If we went along with what Mr. Reed over here is saying, then fifty years from now, we'd all look back and wonder what in the world we were doing. It would be like how it is today with Nazi Germany. We'll think, 'How could we have let that happen?' We will think, 'How could something so horrible happen right under our noses?' Mass extermination of an entire species is not the right thing to do. It may be easiest, but it's not right," Max explained. He was smooth and eloquent, and Goddamn convincing. He would make a great politician.

"The difference is, the sanguinarium aren't people. They hunt us, and you can be sure they aren't humane about it," Etienne put in gently.

"Perhaps, but they are still living, breathing beings. It's an abuse of our power. We have a responsibility to the rest of the world. What kind of example would we be setting?" Max Giannoni asked.

"You still haven't offered an alternative proposal," Dalca told him, cutting straight to the point. All eyes were on Max as he thought for a moment, then said,

"We have three options, as you said. The first is to simply kill them all. As I have said, I am strongly opposed to that solution. The second is that we release them back into the wild. That, clearly, would be no better. The third is that we capture them, study them, and try to get them to assimilate. That, I think, is the best option," Max explained.

"Mike, you're our psychology guy, what do you think?" Dalca asked Mike, trying to include everyone in the debate.

"Well, I agree with Max. He's right, it would be an abuse of power to simply wipe the sanguinarium into extinction. We're better than that. It makes the most sense to, for lack of a better term, control them," Mike said, fidgeting with his hair as he spoke.

"What about you, Sophie?" Dalca said, looking at her expectantly.

"Um," she began, the more she focused on the discussion, the less claustorphobic she felt, "I like Max's idea, but it's not realistic. You choose to assimilate, you can't be forced to. And if we force them into anything, then it goes right back to the question of what it means to be civilized. How do you we know when we've gone to far? I don't have a better solution, though. It's tricky."

"Yes, it is," Dalca said, half smiling. He could tell that Sophie was the kind of person who probably had an overflow of ideas, but was just too shy to share them. He liked her. "So that's your first assignment. How do we properly deal with the sanguinarium? Write a proposal of what you think, and turn it in on Friday. It doesn't have to be anything too formal, as long as it's well written.

"Okay, next, if you look at the first three pages in your folders, you'll find the confidentiality agreement that you all must sign in order to begin training..." Dalca explained the complex legal language used in the contract, and over the next hour or so, Sophie's mind was taken off her anxiety as she listened to the rules and regulations of the Fortis, and the outline of what she would be doing for the next six months.