“I think I just met the happiest person in the world!” I grunt to myself, as light assaulted my eyes from the little bathroom that she and I share. She was squawking some overly happy song from the ‘90’s, voice cracking on random “high” notes. Basically bleeding my ear drums. Our quarters reminded me of my cramped college dorm room from two years ago, but the nine millimeter on my nightstand jolted me back to the present.

“Good! You’re finally awake!” She shouted. I looked at the clock. 4:18am. “Which hair tie do you think works best with the uniform?” My eyes adjusted to see her holding a blue scrunchy in one hand and a cheetah printed one in the other next to her long, brown hair.

I squeezed my lips into a firm line. I could shoot her in the leg with the dummy rounds in my pistol claiming a misfire, she would go to the Medical Bay and I can sleep 20 more minutes before having to get to the training room. Sure, I’d be reprimanded and lose my gun for the remainder of training, but it would be so worth it. I smiled to myself.

“Well, I will take your stoic silence as confirmation to go with the cheetah print one,” she said, and went back to her singing and unrhythmic dancing. I sighed, quickly showered, dressed, and headed with her down to training.

“My name is Gerard Davidson, but you will call me Proctor or Proctor Davidson,” said the brown-skinned man in the tailored suit at the front of the training hall. “This is not the military. We are not SWAT, CIA, FBI, Homeland, or any other alphabet defense team. You will not learn the name of our division unless you graduate.”

The room began to murmur uneasily.

“Each of you received a paper that looks like this,” he said holding up a letter with the President’s seal that matched the one in my bag. “You were chosen not because of your special talents and skills like this letter states, but because of a genetic marker hidden in your DNA. Olivia Reis and Aliyah Jones, congratulations for being the only 2 females to test positive for the marker, making you the first female trainees we have had since Procter Amelia Sanchez 30 years ago.”

I chanced a glance around the room and all eyes were on Olivia and I. Olivia lifted her chin. I leaned back more relaxed than I felt in my chair.

“To succeed is to become a Hunter. You will learn to track and subdue your target and you will learn to do it without revealing what you are,” he continued matter of factly. “When you fail, you will be ERASED,” he paused, effectively siphoning all of the oxygen from the room. “Now, your new roommate is your new partner for the duration of the training. You have 2 minutes to get acquainted.” He took a seat and folded his arms, eyes scanning the room expectantly. Everyone started moving around the room.

“Looks like we’re going to be stuck in training together, partner,” Olivia extended a pale hand.

“I’m Aliyah, but you can call me Liyah,” I accepted her hand, not sure what else to say.

“And you can call me whatever you’d like,” the blonde guy sitting 2 rows in front of me had sauntered in between us, taking Olivia’s hand from mine and kissing it. Before I could respond, Olivia had swiveled him into a judo takedown, breaking the desk with the force, and had him pinned to the floor in an awkward pretzel. Her brows furrowed and there was a dangerous edge about them as she pulled back on his arm. I quickly drew my weapon and pointed at him, unsure of if I should be pointing at her or him, who was turning red in agony. That’s when I noted his eyes swirling.

A slow clap broke the weird tension. It was Proctor, walking up the aisles toward us. I still had my gun pointed at the man Olivia was probably suffocating, but I was too scared to look like I had a clue about what was going on.

“Reis and Jones, congratulations. You have passed the first test,” he said more to the class than to us. Olivia let him go and I holstered my weapon, unsure. “He is a Siren.”

Maybe I could be friends with the happiest person in the world after all.