By supper time Sires finally comprehended what Matt had been trying to tell him. He was making his way to the mess hall when a man, looking to be about thirty, approached him. Sires hesitated.

"Sires?"

"Yes?" he replied in English.

The man spoke in Sires' native tongue. "X wanted me to make sure you attend the meeting in the auditorium tonight."

Sires wasn't aware of the fact The Compound had an auditorium. "Where is it?"

"In the basement."

Much to Sires' surprise, the man shoved him then. Sires stumbled a moment, then gained his bearings. He glared, balling his hands into fists. The shorter man approached him, sticking his index finger at Sires.

"I'm not X's messenger, and I'm sure as hell not his lap dog." He sneered cruelly. "He only has one slot for that role, and it's already taken." He shoved Sires again. "You had better learn English fast, boy."

"Stop shoving me!"

"Be there at seven."

"But...I have classes then."

"Classes are canceled, idiot." Without another word, he turned and left.

Punch him. Maim him. Scalp him. hissed the voice in his head.

"Scalping would be maiming him," Sires muttered to himself.

No. Maiming someone leaves room for their surviving. People always die when you scalp them.

Sires shoved his hands in his pockets, glaring at the floor as he made his way to the mess hall for his dinner. "I'm not having this conversation with you."

The voice in his head laughed.

Sires had no idea how to get to the basement. Ten minutes before seven he exited the bunk room. After a few failed attempts at walking up to people and saying "meeting?", he gave up. He was only being met with glares and still no idea where this auditorium was.

He decided to make his way to the main hall where the front entrance was. Sure enough, it seemed as though everyone was headed in the same direction. Wordlessly Sires followed the stream of people. This led him to a set of double doors that he had always assumed was some sort of janitorial closet.

It wasn't. Everyone poured downstairs. Sires followed suit, making it a point to not look at anyone.

The room at the bottom of the steps was vastly different than any other part of the building. Sires stopped walking, stunned as he drank in the surroundings.

The floor was carpeted with crushed red velvet. Comfortable seating, wooden chairs covered with padded dark brown leather, filled the room in four sections of half circles. The room could accommodate a few hundred people, and the seats were nearly completely filled.

The walls were a dark eggshell in color, almost yellow. Brass candle holders aligned the walls, the candles all lit. At the front of the room was a huge stage, the floor a polished black wood. A single black podium stood front and center; a strangely ornate gold desk lamp was affixed to the front. The stage was sectioned off by red velvet curtains, which were currently tied open with thick golden rope, heavy tassels hanging from the ends.

Against the back wall was a gargantuan projection screen that spanned the width of the wall. And, possibly most impressive, was a huge wooden chandelier that hung in the very middle of the room. This too held real candles; Sires wondered if they would eventually drip onto people's heads.

It never occurred to him just how many people made up The Compound, but seeing them all in one room was impressive. Sires suddenly felt self-conscious though. He appeared to have made a mistake. Everyone was wearing the dress clothes that had been provided to them; button down, black, long sleeved shirts with black slacks and polished dress shoes. Sires, however, had come in his civilian black pants and a long sleeved black shirt. His boots were still muddy from running in the forest earlier.

One thing caught Sires' eye most of all though. It wasn't the vastness of the room, the shocking amount of people, or even his wardrobe misstep. Everything melted away as he stared at it. He couldn't rip his eyes away. It demanded his attention.

The wooden panel just above the stage held a painting. It was of some sort of monster. It looked like a dragon; its skin was green and scaly, and it had a serpentine body. Its mouth was pulled back into a snarl, revealing rows of sharp, pointed teeth. Ten rams' horns adorned its head like a demented crown. Its eyes were globes of silver. Within its clawed, human-looking hands, something was levitating in a burst of stylized golden light.

It was some sort of strange symbol Sires had never seen before. It looked the English letter 'P', at itsit's base was the English letter 'X'. This first symbol was encased in a pentagram, and the entire thing was encircled by intricate lines that coiled around each other.

Sires had never seen anything like it. He wished he had never seen anything like it. Even though it was just a painting, even though he knew it couldn't harm him, it terrified him. He truly, on some surreal level, believed this thing could escape the confines of itsit's two-dimension prison. The more he stared at it the more uneasy he became. He felt like this thing was looking straight into his soul.

"Move, Sires."

Someone roughly bumped into him. It was obvious they had done it on purpose. Rubbing his shoulder, he looked at the back of the person's head. She looked over her shoulder and glared at him.

He had never seen her in his life. Why did everyone seem to know his name now?

"Sires!"

His attention was once again redirected. In the left section, five rows away from the stage, Matt was waving. Sires saw him and suppressed a smile. At least someone didn't make him feel like a cockroach.

"Come here! There's a seat," Matt pointed at an empty seat.

Sires nodded and made his way down the aisle to where Matt stood. When he got to the appropriate row, no one wanted to move. Sires tried an "excuse me," but he was simply ignored. A slow growing anger bubbled within him and he shoved his way through. When he got to Matt he smiled, giving a polite inclination of his head in thanks. Matt smiled back and the two sat.

The lights on the stage dimmed and a spotlight came on. The house lights shut off, and the double doors were shut—and audibly locked. Sires swallowed. As though this auditorium wasn't off putting enough, now it seemed downright sinister being illuminated by only the dull flickering of candles that caused shadows to jump and leap along the walls and ceiling.

X walked out onto the stage, and a spotlight turned on and began to follow his movements. Sires turned around, bewildered when he discovered there was a row of balcony seats as well. Everyone except Sires erupted into vociferous applause. X strutted to the podium, a big, shit-eating grin on his face.

He looked charming. From his podium he waved at the crowd. A few people even got to their feet for a standing ovation. X only grinned wider. His audience subdued when he held up his hands, and even then it took a good half-minute for the cheers to die away.

"My comrades," X spoke into the microphone.

"We are one," the crowd spoke simultaneously in a big, booming collective voice.

No. Sires did not like this. As quietly as he could he slouched in his seat, barely able to see past the seat in front of him.

"I welcome you on this glorious evening," X continued.

"What a glorious evening it is," the crowd echoed back.

"Now," X said, leaning against his podium. "The world is still full of hatred. The world is still plagued by lies and deceit. Will we stand for this?"

"We shall not," the crowd said.

"Evil still wraps its tentacles around the light that shines in the world. Look around the corner, and there's a man raping a woman. Walk down the street, and there is some kid robbing a poor elderly woman who dropped her groceries. Everywhere, false hope is spread; everywhere good will is snuffed out like a cigarette butt."

X slammed his hand on the podium and Sires jumped. "Why? Why do we stand for this? Why do we put up with this? Our life passes us within a blink of an eye; for what? There is no God. There is no afterlife. Here and now. Here and now is all we have."

A murmur of agreement spread throughout the crowd.

X stood tall, smug-looking and all-knowing. "I blame the government." He leaned in, pressing his index finger against the podium. "I blame the politicians that sit behind their desks with their swanky jobs. I blame the rich who ignore and hate the poor people of this world.

"I blame the teachers who turn a blind eye to the girl overdosing in the bathroom stall. I blame the principal for failing to reprehend the bully that beats up little Timmy each day for his lunch money. Because do you know what little Timmy is going to grow up and do? Well, do you?"

"No Sir," the monstrous single but many voiced replied.

"He's going to grow up and shoot people in the head!"

Sires thought that leap was a bit extreme but wasn't provided the opportunity to really gnaw on it.

"This world is not fair," X raved. "There is no one, no one, to speak for the voiceless. No one to stand up for the homeless. Shoving food at them, providing them shelter, that's not the answer. That's just a band-aid.

"The truth! We need to open our eyes and see the truth! Our future lies within the truth. When will we stop throwing drug lords in jail for a few hours only to have them post bail? When will we stop electing government officials that are interchangeable and indistinguishable? When will we start caring for the decrepit?"

"Now!"

Sires jumped.

"When will we start caring for our fellow man?"

"Now!"

"When will we start caring out our world?"

"Now!"

"When will we take justice back into the people's hands?"

"Now!"

"When will we stop letting people shove us around?"

"Now!"

"When will we stop letting society tell us what's right and what's wrong?"

"Now!"

"When will we see through the lies and only see what's right and fair?"

"Now!"

"When will we reach sweet, true, undiluted democracy?"

Sires swallowed. Democracy? Who was to chose this democracy—X? Sires shuddered.

"Now!"

"Do not waiver!" X urged them, thrusting a pointed finger into the air. "Are our tactics questionable? Of course. But our world is a questionable place. How else will we clear the weeds of the world if we don't burn them? Do wars stop for peace?" X laughed incredulously. "Well, have they?"

"No!"

"An evil man is an evil man. Who will stand up for the good when there is no one left but us? Who will protect those who don't have the heart to stand up for themselves? If someone has a gun to your head, are they going to stop if you ask them nicely? Will they listen to you if you try to tell them peace is the answer, the universal truth? No! So why should we stop? Why should we censor ourselves when the wicked will not?"

X came around the podium, speaking now into a microphone he carried.

"Why must society be boxed into rules that the evil ones do not even abide by? How can anyone get ahead of them if they're playing outside of the rules? I'll tell you how! We follow them! A murderer deserves to be murdered! No trial, no jury. Murder! Does a drug lord who has an entire gang at his disposal, a lord who is terrorizing an entire town, who is recruiting innocent children into these gangs, who has made walking to the supermarket impossible, do they deserve a trial?"

"No!"

"They deserve to have that town taken forcefully taken away from them, just like they stole it, and given back to the community! And who is going to do that? The police? The police who are too busy pussy-footing around, pushing papers all day? Making sure they are acting within their legal jurisdictions? The police who are working for their own, corrupt agenda under the thin veil of proclaimed justice? Police taking bribes from the very people they're supposed to be arresting?

"I ask you this. Who then? Who will level the playing field? The terrified grandmothers? The innocent babies?"

"We will!"

"What?"

"We will!"

X cupped his ear. "What?"

"We will!"

"Do not waiver! Do not repent for what you have done, and the things you have yet to do! You should feel proud for the people you put in the ground! You should hold your head high! You are bringing justice to this forsaken land! Do not recoil from the duties I have laid before you. Do not think your soul is eternally damned. Do not pity the families of those you have killed. Do not sympathize with the enemy! When is our time?"

"Now!"

X paused, smiling directly at Sires. Sires swallowed and felt his skin burn. The smile reminded Sires of that...thing, that hung above the stage. X broke his gaze, returning to the podium.

"I am pleased with you, my children. You are all learning so well. So swiftly. I could not have hoped for a better group. Sadly, as much as our group grows, it also shrinks."

X bowed his head. Everyone clasped their hands together and bowed their heads. Sires quickly did likewise, but kept darting his eyes back and forth.

"This week we honor John, who fell this week in Thailand, and Harry, who died for our cause in America. They were trained well, just as well as anyone in this very room, and they shall be missed."

"Missed but not forgotten," the crowd murmured.

X unclasped his hands and lifted his head. Everyone did the same.

"But like with any good cause there are casualties. It is a necessary evil of our plight. Whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Remember that. For we do not abandon the downtrodden. We do not leave them to go home with the world's burdens resting heavy on their shoulders. No. We give ourselves to them. Our holy plight is our gift to them."

"We are the chosen."

X cupped his ears.

"We are the chosen!"

"Go now. Take pride in what you do. Every day is a struggle, and I know it is daunting, but forever remember; your daily struggle is one step closer to our future. A future we, and all of humanity, deserve."

Everyone stood. Sires stayed in his seat. Everyone lifted their fists skyward.

Once again, X stared directly at Sires. "Good night, my children. Your leader loves you all."

And just like that it was over. There was the scritch-scratch as X turned off the microphone. The house lights came back on and the spotlight was shut off. The doors were unlocked, and people began to exit in an orderly fashion. X took a thermos of water that had been sitting on his podium, opened it, and drank heavily from it.

"Well?" Matt asked with excitement dancing in his eyes as they made their way to the main aisle. "Did you like it?"

Sires forced a smile. Truth be told, his stomach was in turmoil. He barely understood any of it, but the entire experience had shaken him to his core. It was a cult. Some sort of deranged, terrifying cult.

And he was a part of it.

The room was suffocating him. He couldn't wait to leave. Everyone seemed to crawl to the door. Just a few more feet...

"Sires."

Sires froze. In apprehension, he slowly turned towards the stage. His eyes drifted up to the uncanny painting.

X's mouth was practically on the microphone. He spoke in a low, commanding voice. "Come here."

Really? Out of everyone left in the room, he was going to single him out? Humiliate him? Bring unwanted attention to him?

No one seemed to pay attention, including his new found friend. Apprehensively Sires turned and walked though the last of the people to the stage. By the time he reached it, the auditorium had emptied. X squatted at the edge of the stage.

"What did you think?" X slipped into Sires' language.

Sires didn't know what to say. He was petrified of saying the wrong thing. Slowly, X frowned.

"You didn't understand any of it, did you?"

"No." At least it wasn't a complete lie, only comprehending words here and there.

Sires was determined to ignore the fact that, as things were playing out, the voice in his head had been translating things for him. The voice was him; the voice couldn't possibly, actually, be translating the speech into Icelandic. Certainly Sires was just filling in words for the overall feeling that was being conveyed.

At least, that's what Sires hoped. He had the uncanny feeling that, if Caesar were around, Caesar would confirm what was said by the voice in his head.

A childlike happiness graced X's face and he smiled, turning his hand into an enthusiastic fist. "Well, you understood the gist of it, right? The gumption? The camaraderie?"

Sires couldn't even force a smile.

X frowned. "Are you all right? You don't look too good."

"I'm fine."

X's frowned deepened at the lack of enthusiasm.

"I need to talk to you about your schooling. I've decided I'm going to tweak your schedule a bit. You're going to have your combat and self-defense classes as usual, but the rest of your studying for the time being is going to be spent on English.

"Lord knows you excel at your other studies, when you actually do the work. I can't have you go through everything not understanding a lick of it. You need to understand people. You need to understand me. Am I making myself clear?"

Sires nodded, a sour taste forming in the back of his throat. His mouth began to water.

"Also, at the end of each day I want you to come to my office so I can have my own little..." X licked his lips. "Private session with you. To check your progress. Is that clear?"

Sires couldn't even nod. He would be lucky if he didn't pass out.

X cocked his head to the side. "Are you sure you're alright? You really don't look well."

Look up.

Sires looked at the beast looming over his head.

I'm watching you...

Sires looked back at X. X suddenly looked bored and he waved his hand dismissively.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, Sires."

Sires turned on his heel. By the time he reached the double doors he was running. He burst through them, propelling himself up the stairs two at a time.

As he emerged into the main hallway, he was thankful to find a garbage can right there. Clutching the sides he promptly expelled the dinner he had eaten that night. When his stomach finally stopped heaving, he dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cool metal of the trash bin.

He was not looking forward to tomorrow.