I pulled the Dodge three quarter ton into an empty space in the parking lot and shut off the ignition. I hadn't seen any signs against it so I left the 220 Sig on my hip in it's IWB holster. I was wearing a T-shirt underneath an untucked and unbuttoned cloth shirt, and it concealed easily enough I wasn't worried about it being seen.

Walking inside the front door I found an older lady behind a desk looking at a computer screen. She heard the door open and looked up, "Howdy. Here for orientation?"

"Yes ma'am," I replied. The cowboy's warning echoed in my head, contradicting the image of the sweet old lady in front of me. My straight face and schoolboy demeanor must have tipped her off.

"Sam warned ya 'bout my name didn't he?" she said.

I thought about lying, but decided against it, "The cowboy at the front gate?" I asked. She nodded, "Yeah he did."

"Well he was right. Remember it sonny," she looked down at my signature, "Orientation's back there, can't miss it. It's already started so you better git." She handed me a small ticket stub

I took it and left. Glancing back, she'd returned to her game of spider solitare on the computer.

Continuing down the hall I passed by a wall full of silver plates, numbering well over a hundred. I just glanced at them momentarily as I heard a voice speaking in a room just ahead of me. I didn't know, but I doubted they would appreciate anyone being late.

I stepped into the room, and dropped into the nearest chair, trying not to make too big of an entrance. The guy seated next to me gave me only a glance, however the man speaking at the front of the room looked towards the door and glanced at me, paused a moment with a slight frown then continued speaking.

'Great first impression dude,' I chided myself, then turned my attention to the man's speech.

"This is gonna be a lon ride. In training, some of you will drop out, some of you will quite, some of you we'll boot out. If you chicken out, it's understandable. This ain't like being a LEO or even military. This stuff would make Bin'Laden shit his pants and the Devil's horns curl," the man paused a moment. He reached into his bomber jacket and withdrew a cigarette, lit it, then continued, "Those of you who join. Someone of the group will die. It happens. Most of you won't. In the end," he shrugged, "It's all up to how far you push yourselves. And how much YOU want to become Monster Hunters."

He looked at his watch, "It's getting late today. I'm sure alot of you have had a long drive. Consider this your last free day of R&R. Find your bunks, get secured. Last meal's served in three hours, so I advise you show up on time."

With that word of advice he stepped off the pedestal and ended the speech.

The class stood from the chairs and began milling around, examining their ticket stubs. I must have missed that part of the seminar.

Looking at mine, I saw I had already been assigned a bunkroom. I stood from the chair and about ran into the man who had been speaking.

"Harbinger," he said, holding out a hand. I looked at it a moment and then stuck mine out, "Mitch Olsuuhun." I wheezed out the last as his hand smashed mine.

"Well good to see you," he said, continuing on as if he didn't notice, "Car troubles?" he asked.

"Uhh," I flexed my hand, working blood back into the muscles, "No. I just. Uh. Didn't know there was a time limit. Stan said on the phone just to show up in the afternoon."

Harbinger snorted, "Well no harm no foul. Just don't let it happen again," he turned and began wandering among the "Newbies" as I heard one of the veterans comment.

I followed the crowd through the door, then stood in the hallway as the thirty or forty recruits went by, waiting for it to thin. Two who appeared to be MHI employees followed behind and I stepped away from the wall.

"Excuse me. I ain't seen a rulebook around here. I was wondering what the policy was with personal weapons?" I asked.

The one paused and looked me up and down. If I hadn't been able to guess I'd have said he was a hippy who had clung to the seventies, a beaded, long red beard, shorts, and some kind of T-shirt with a band logo on it. As I looked, I noticed the 1911 on his hip. That was hopefull.

Weeeyyyhll," he started, "First night keep 'em in your truck. No one will steal them here. Once you pass weapons qualifications you can keep them in your bunkroom. You been around guns before?" I nodded, "Well then your Weapons qualification will be tomorrow, the first day."

"Thanks," I said to him. I extended my hand, "Mitch Olson."

"Milo," he replied, "Welcome to MHI," he said before continuing down the hallway.

Supper was still a few hours off so I took the time to wander around the MHI compound. Outside of the heavy chain link, concertina-topped wire fence surrounding the camp, only a few areas were inaccesable to us newbies.

Amongst them was a quonset hut with a massive set of locks running from the top of the door, down to the base, and a big sign saying "Warning. Booby traps inside". A few of the buildings also had locks on them, apprently for keeping stuff out AND in. Maybe they doubled as prisoner cells, I didn't know.

As I walked around the outside of the main compound I noticed how heavily fortified it was. The windows had retractable metal shutters, while two small towers portruded from the top, and I couldn't tell what the roof was like. Best guess was the entire compound of personal could go inside. With the self-contained armory, and I know there had to be supply storage, they could hold off a small (Or large for that matter) army of anything.

There were a few shooting ranges, an obsticle course, although that looked like it stretched outside of the main compound as well. A few other recruits were doing the same thing as me, looking over what would hopefully be their new home. Others made trips to their outfits and began settling into their new quarters.

As my watch showed 7P.M. I walked back to the main compound and followed the flow of people to the commisary.

Food wasn't bad, although I did go for a hamburger which was pretty hard for even a half-assed cook like myself to mess up. I noticed that amongst the recruits there wasn't alot of talking, versus the actual MHI employees who were constantly chatting. Probably the unease at the upcoming training and not knowing who all they would be teamed with.

Finishing my burger, I walked out of the building and glanced around. With the sun beginning to set, I walked to my pickup and gathered my stuff (Minus weapons) and made my way to the bunk assigned to me.

Arriving there, I found that the second guy assigned to it was already there. He looked up as I entered the room. He was about my height, just over six feet, but outweighed me by a good forty pounds, a tad darker skin, probably a latin background.

We both sort of stared at each other a few moments. Finally the guy set down the box he had been rummaging through and extended his hand, "Don."

"Mitch," I shook his hand, "What drug you into this?"

He gave a bitter chuckle, "Werewolf. You?"

'This's embarressing,' I thought. Aloud I said "Chupacabra, but that sorta sounds wimpy compared to a werewolf."

"Ah well. We're here," Don flashed a smile and went back to unpacking his stuff. As he did, I noticed the array of holsters, knives and old issues of gun magazones he was stuffing underneath of his bunk.

Damn. Maybe this wasn't gonna be so bad after all.

Arizona. That night. 1:20 AM.

"Come my servant," a woman's voice commanded in the darkness. The enthralled man followed the voice out of the cave, and alongside her figure. His companion had done much towards regaining her strength, however she still needed an attendant. He would do until she found her new lieutenant.

The woman closed her eyes a moment, then opened them and looked skyward, "So long since I have beheld them," she muttered to herself.

For many decades had she been held captive in a tomb of eternal hatred. Not powerful enough to kill her outright, the silver coffin had merely held captive her powers, the pure metal burning when in contact with her skin, torturing her.

It had been almost too long. The agony and suffering, she had almost forgotten freedom. Forgotten her power. Her senses came alive as they began flexing them, and a nearby rock began wobbling. Moving and morphing into something new.