Author's Note: I had this in my files typed up already from before the whole 'lost my laptop' fiasco, so I thought I'd post it while I'm here. This is likely all you're getting for a while, sorry. As always, hope you enjoy.

*Insert disclaimer here*

The next morning (he guessed; it was rather hard to tell time here, as the sky didn't change color much, but it seemed lighter than it had been when he fell asleep), he was woken quite suddenly and rudely by the blare of an alarm. His eyes flew open and his hand instinctively rushed to the button to turn it off. Sheesh. It had been a while since he'd woken up to an alarm clock. "Thanks for the heart attack," he grumbled. It was six-thirty. He never set an alarm on his clock. Then he remembered his training. He got up, got dressed and tidied up and such, and exited his room.

The stairs were just as long as they'd been last night, down as well as up. Do I really have to go down all that way again? Then he noticed an odd sight. One of the other Retrievers had jumped off of the staircase and was free-falling to the ground floor. As Mark watched, he landed on his feet without any sign of injury and walked away. I guess spirits can't really get hurt, seeing as they don't have bodies. Well, if it worked for the other guy, it would for him too. He vaulted off of the stone banister into empty space. He was reminded of the Shifting Pits from yesterday as he fell, only now he needed to control his descent. The ground rushed up to meet him. With a bone-jarring impact, he landed.

On his butt.

It didn't hurt, but it did send a shockwave of force through his body (spirit?). I really need to get better at landing if I have to do this every day. He picked himself up, brushed himself off, hoped nobody had seen, and left with a red face.

Outside, the sky was an orangeish-red, hardly a black cloud in sight. The landscape looked as if it had been recently bombed. The jagged terrain stretched endlessly in all directions, sloping into hills and stopping at the foot of cliffs. The valley was a little safe haven in the vast realm they inhabited. To some, it might have seemed cozy. Mark himself felt trapped by the cliff walls and steep hills closing him in. Aside from the tower behind him, there were few buildings. A gigantic training hall was some ways away off to his right. Why is everything so big here? Connected to the hall was another building, taller but not as large around.

"Oh, you're down already." Nathalie's voice sounded behind him, and he whirled around to see her striding out the door. "Thought you might've chosen the stairs."

"I sort of jumped," he replied, heat rising to his cheeks.

She smiled. "Good. Wouldn't want you to be late for your first day. There is much to be done." She set off for the training hall. "Follow me."

The building seemed even larger up close. Inside was exactly as you might expect a training hall to look- mats strewn across the floor, dummies for fighting practice, a discarded sword or two lying about. There was a door outside leading to the obstacle courses and such in the back. There were a few spirits up and about, but none of them were sparring, either with each other or the dummies. Mark followed Nathalie across to a door on the left, to the other building, which turned out to be an armory. Only one person was in here, along with a cat. The man was putting something on the cat's paws, like extensions to the feline's already-sharp claws. He was saying, "These should work fine..."

He looked up as they walked in. "Ah, you're that other new recruit." His voice was low and growly, though not unkind, and his eyes were fierce as a hawk's. He stood and bowed, after dismissing the cat. She grinned up at him as she passed by.

"The name's Albert, Al for short. You'll need to be matched, yes?" he asked, shooting a glance at Nathalie, who nodded. Without further adieu, he led Mark to an impressive display of different swords, knives, daggers, and various other blades and pointy objects. His sharp eyes looked Mark up and down, and then up and down the rows and rows of weapons. Then he jumped up-way up-to almost the top row, at the edge of Mark's vision. At the peak of his leap, he grabbed onto a ledge and clambered up onto it. He took something off of a hook-too far away to tell what- and jumped back down, landing, Mark noticed, perfectly on his feet. In his hand was a dagger with a wickedly sharp edge. He gave it to Mark, but snatched it away almost as soon as he'd touched it. "No, no, no, no, no..." Al returned the dagger to its place, and then climbed around like a monkey to a different rack, a different weapon, which was rejected as well.

On and on it went. It seemed Al would never be satisfied. He lost count around a hundred and seventy. At last, he was matched with a sabre.

"I think that's good," said Al. "You take care of that, boy-or I'll have your head!" He uttered a barking laugh.

"How could he jump so high?" were the first words out of Mark's mouth once they were back in the training hall.

Nathalie sighed. "I can already tell your mentor is going to be tired of you by the end of the day. Is there any end to your questions?"
"I don't know."

"Well, I showed you your body in the hospital. It's as simple as that." She explained further upon meeting his blank look in response. "Look, your spirit is the only thing that's here. You aren't bound and restricted by the limits of your body anymore. You possess right now all the strength that anyone could ever imagine. You could probably jump higher if you wanted."

"Awesome..." The more he thought about it, the cooler it seemed. Having a body was actually quite restraining, placing shackles upon creativity and wasting potential. One had to eat when hungry, drink when thirsty, protect one's self from extremes of the environment...

"Of course, brawn and brute force can only do so much. Skill, agility, dexterity with the mind... you possess much, but you must be taught a vast amount more. And in addition to learning, you must unlearn some things, as well."

"Unlearn?"

"Yes. Your understanding and perception of the world around you is still decidedly living. You'll never become a Retriever unless you change that."

"How am I supposed the do that?"

"It takes a certain degree of self-control to persuade yourself of something. It is difficult, but not impossible. This place is a constant mind game. It toys with your sanity and twists your reasoning, enough to make a sane man go mad. As a new recruit, it's your job to keep your head on straight and stand right-side up in an upside-down world. Your mentor will help, but in the end, you must do it yourself."

There was a set of stairs next to the armory. At the bottom of them was like a big warehouse, full of thousands of different shapes and sizes of the outfit that seemed to be the uniform here-a long-sleeved black shirt and matching pants. An old woman in thick robes took measurements and tottered off to find a good fit.

A question itched on the tip of Mark's tongue. "This is the world of the dead... so... why aren't there as many old people?"

Amusement lit Nathalie's eyes. "At least you're honest," she replied, a smile gracing her features. "First off, modern-world medicine is very recent, by our standards. Life span was quite short before it came along. And even now, it doesn't always work. Secondly, spirits often assume the form of their body when their life was happiest. For many, it is youth, back when the world was simple and new... I died at thirty-two, and here I am in the body of a thirteen-year-old. You're not quite dead, you haven't changed. But for those of us who have truly crossed the border, it is always the same."

Just then, the old woman came wadding back with a bundle of black clothes. He slipped into a changing room and got dressed, not surprised that it fit him perfectly.

Nathalie nodded once he came back. "Everything's settled then, I think." She led him back upstairs and across the hall, to a rather gloomy-looking individual. He was tall and skinny, about Mark's age, with shoulder-length black hair and piercing amber eyes. Nathalie was talking to him, and he listened without comment, only nodding or shaking his head when she asked him something. He glanced over at Mark, his gaze slicing through the recruit sharp as a knife. Mark shrank back under the look the man gave him, feeling suddenly as insignificant as a bug.

Nathalie glanced back at Mark, clearly inviting him forward. He, somewhat reluctantly, stepped up to the two of them. The man didn't move, just studied Mark's face with vague interest, guarded curiosity rather than outright disdain. "Hello, Mark," he said in a low voice. "I am Raimund. I will be your mentor."

Mark nodded shyly; Raimund had such sheer presence that it was hard to act confident around him.

"Right, then." Nathalie turned to face Mark. "I guess this is good-bye. For a while, at least."

Mark nodded. He'd miss her, but not too much. Besides, he couldn't really focus on this moment here when he was about to start his training. She held out her hand, and he shook it. "Bye," he said. She nodded and left.

Raimund watched as she walked away. "She was my mentor, you know."

"Really?"

Raimund's eye's flashed. "And so it begins!" he chuckled. "Nathalie tells me you never stop asking questions." He turned and started walking towards what looked like an obstacle course. "Come."

"I assume you are curious about what I will be teaching you," he began. "I cannot explain everything, but I will tell you what I can. To start, I need to test you on various abilities, to see exactly where you stand and how much focus I need to put on particular areas. You will be assessed on reflexes, agility, and the ability to adapt to changes in the environment. I'll also need to know how much your mind can withstand and how your imagination stretches."

"What?"

"This job's challenges are not purely physical, Mark. Your mind will be the thing you need to worry about most, in fact. You have much to learn, not all of it able to be taught."

"Nathalie said something like that."

"I'm not surprised. Like master, like student." Raimund stopped at the course. "The start is over there," he said, nodding in its direction. "I assume you know what you're supposed to do."

He arrived at the end some time later. Raimund stopped his timer and grinned. "Not bad for a new recruit. Climbing could use some work, but that's what usually needs work, anyways. Free-running and dodging weren't too bad, but they could use some brushing up."

His next task was a bit simpler, if more difficult. Raimund stood in the middle of an empty mat, his eyes closed. Mark had to get from one end of the mat to the other without being heard. He made it maybe a third of the way across before his mentor's eyes snapped open. He pivoted on the spot to face Mark, who froze like a deer in headlights. He was used to it by now, but he had to admit, Raimund's gaze still spooked him a little.

Then Raimund explained his next task. Mark was to be put into a trance and subjected to a variety of disturbing images and scenarios, designed to unnerve and incapacitate him. Raimund frowned sympathetically to a worried Mark as he said, "Looking back on it, it was my least favorite part, and I'll hazard a guess it'll be yours, too. But I need to know your psychological limits. Don't worry, most don't go mad, and I'm sure you won't." For all his reassurances, Mark was still rather apprehensive. Before he had a chance to work himself up about it, Raimund put his hand to his pupil's forehead and whispered a phrase. Immediately, he stiffened, eyes rolling back into his head as his mind swirled with grotesque and repulsive scenes.

It was like all his worst nightmares, rolled into one and multiplied by ten. I will not describe the excruciating details to you, for none should have to know what he saw. When he emerged, he collapsed, falling to his knees in a daze of horror. Burying his face in his hands, he murmured weakly, "That... was terrible..."

Raimund's tone was laced with sympathy. "I know. But it is required. If it helps, I will tell you-you did very well."

"Thanks..." Mark stared off into the distance, fearsome visions still clawing at his psyche.

"Would you rather continue with lessons or take the rest of the day off?"

"...I'll go with lessons."

"Good. You must understand I will make little allowance for your condition. You must be able to function under such circumstances." Mark just nodded.

They spent the rest of the day jumping.

That may seem strange or even amusing to you, but it was perfectly reasonable to them. They jumped off of the training hall itself, off of cliffs, off of the few trees here (which seemed to vanish as soon as he glanced away from them, reappearing far off in the distance), until Mark could land on his feet from any height. Getting back up wasn't as hard as he thought it would be-he simply had to take his best guess, which was usually close enough, and jump. Once in a while he got stuck a bit off target, in which case Raimund swung down to help. Mark was surprised to see the strange sky darkening when Raimund called a halt.

"That should be quite enough for today," he said. "You've done well, Mark." Mark couldn't help but let a slight smile grace his visage. "I suggest you sleep. Your body may not tire, but you mind still needs the rest."

Mark was all too willing to do as Raimund said, grateful for the peace and quiet of his room. Tired, he closed his eyes, and sleep enfolded him in its comforting, familiar embrace.