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Updated as of 28 April, 8:05pm +8GMT

Dillon Avery was feeling fine that morning.

There. He made the final adjustments to his look.
He observed himself in the mirror, staring back at the confident looking man looking right at him. He had rehearsed the scene in his head at least a dozen times the previous night and prepared well thought-out answers to all the questions he could think of. He was ready.
I am ready, he reassured himself.

He didn't leave the mirror just yet though, his mind was still onto something. Perhaps I should try out the one that I yell to myself “You're the BEST” in the mirror......Nah, he dismissed the thought quickly. Self-assured as he may seem, Dillon was probably still too much of a pessimist to actually do that. Besides, he was pretty sure that he would have felt like an idiot after that. Alright,alright, clear your mind of all unnecessary thoughts and get ready to leave. Giving himself one final check, Dillon climbed down the stairs of his house, exited through the front door, got in his car and drove off. That day was a pretty big day for him.
---
Sitting outside in line was a tough thing to do. Running through the things he wanted to say was getting harder by the minute as the pressure began surmounting to its climax. Watching his peers entering and leaving the room was starting to affect him - though he was pretty sure that he stood the best chance amongst all those the coach called out. His thought-filter was getting clogged up by worries and insecurities, to the point he decided to shut everything off and wait. Wait. It would be his turn any minute now.

The door opened and the last of the interviewees before him ushered himself out into the hall.
It was now. Seize the moment.

“Dillon Avery?”
A small, slightly high-pitched voice came from within the room. Turning around, he matched it to the petite, mousy figure that had just popped out from the door.

“Dillon Avery?” she repeated herself. A tinge of worry was detectable.
Dillon gestured towards her and smiled. Getting up from his seat, he strode over towards her and uttered a “I'm here, thank you”.

“Please proceed.”
Dillon nodded and entered the room. The office was pretty small, but rather neat albeit a little cramped. The walls were lined with cupboards that proudly displayed rows and rows of champion's trophies.He drew his attention back to the center of the room. There stood his seat in front of the table, where two men were seated behind it. He was a little taken aback – he hadn't expected a panel, or well at least, he had assumed it would have been between him and the coach exclusively. His eyes scanned the table for nameplates or any form of identification for the other man – there was none. He would just have to go with the flow.

“Good afternoon Coach Wayne,” he said, stepping forward and taking the coach's hand firmly while he greeted him. “And good afternoon to you too sir-” His hand was outstretched towards the mystery guest, who merely looked up from the stack documents at him but did not reciprocate.

“Have a seat.”
Dillon smiled and retracted his hand, redirecting his attention to the coach who had taken the chance of relieve him of the awkwardness. He found himself a comfortable position on his chair where he sat upright and looked towards the panel steadily, indicating that he was ready.

The first few questions were more discursive - various scenarios were given and he was asked which plays he would call. Sharp analysis, decisiveness, experience – Dillon had them. He expressed himself clearly and confidently with the right amount of enthusiasm, making sure that he had divided his attention between the two judges at the panel. There were nods and scribbling – which probably indicated well. Then the pause in conversation came. The two examiners were busy at work with the evaluation sheets at hand. Dillon knew what was coming next. He had been well-prepared until now, but those questions were about to come.

“Give me a phrase that would sum yourself up”

Dillon bit into his lip slightly – he dreaded what he was about to say.

“A jack of all trades,” he paused.

“-Master of none” The coach was looking at him in a judgmental way, “that's the other half to it is it not?”

Dillon was quick defend himself. “Put it this way, that would have meant that I am well-rounded. That phrase would imply that I'm mediocre, though I'd like to think that I am still a cut above the rest.” Dillon maintained his confident front, though a great distaste for himself had up-welled in him. It was true, even the coach had called him on it. He hated that about himself – for not being the best, or exceptional at everything. He would receive acknowledgment for being versatile and balanced, but he would never truly shine. He would be good, but not good enough.

From a corner of his eye, he saw that the mystery judge had finally extracted his focus from the documents – for the first time in the interview, the man was watching for what he had to say.

The coach was quick to cut in. “You sound confident, but don't you know what the rest have to offer? Jackson, Darren – what is it you have over them?”

“I'd say what I have is better, I'm ready and fit for the role. The others who have applied – you know how they are like.” He stared straight into the coach's eye as he said that.

The coach chucked. “Boy I know you alright. You're far more intelligent that the others - I'd admit that, but that doesn't always translate into your judgement.” Dillon knew just what he meant.

“I have always considered the risks in any case,” Dillon rebutted quietly, measuring his tone to avoid offending the coach. “But I'd like to say that my recklessness speaks more about my character than the ability to made sound judgement.” He knew that he had gone wrong already, his slight temper and excitement had gotten the better of him. Back off, he told himself, his body reclining back into the chair, his lips sealed shut. All this while, the other panelist had his eyes on him. The coach too, had his gaze fixed on him. A moment of silence passed, Dillon knew that he had at least succeeded in getting the coach to consider what he had said. It was a gamble. A risk he was willing to take.

“Thank you for that. You may leave now.”

Dillon rose from his seat and took the hand of the coach, thanking him for his time. Facing the other judge, he once again offered his hand, though he expected to be ignored. Oddly enough, the man complied, and Dillon left the room with mixed feelings about how the interview went.

It was no surprise that they were eliminated early into the season. The team dynamics were terrible to say the least, and they were defeated by teams that they shouldn't have lost to. The ill-sentiment had permeated throughout the team. Dillon knew that he was to blame. Partially at least, there were a fair amount of them that were mad at the coach and had thrown in the towel. But the others and even he himself knew that he failed to deliver and bring the team together.

The following week saw a record low of members attending the trainings, some were too ashamed to turn up for school. Dillon didn't do too badly for his position, but that did not spare him from the whisperings behind his back and the jeering. He was history making - the team captain that led the school to failure within the first 2 weeks of the season. What a disgrace.

Dillon took it out on himself staying out in school late into the night, practicing (and sometimes more of venting). He berated himself mentally and punished himself physically. He wished he could redo all of it – he was better than that.

One night, just as he sent a ball sailing across the field, an unfamiliar voice called out to him.

“Avery. Dillon Avery.”

Dillon paused. Who could that be?
Turning his head to find out, his eyes encountered a familiar face. The one belonging to the mystery judge from the interview months ago. Dillon was sure he had come to mock him for his failures. The man probably though that he was full of s**t now and that confident Dillon in the interview was now just a farce. Dillon's battered pride took another beating, as the man started to approach him.
“Yes sir?” He could only respond.

The man was by his side now. He looked at him, before turning his gaze away to the empty field. “Quite a poor performance, one I wouldn't have expected from you. Under your captainship.”

Dillon merely stood still and silent, letting those words lash at him.

The mysterious man turned around to face the unresponsive young man. “I have been watching you for quite some time.”

Dillon was taken aback. What the hell?

“Join us,” the man continued. He looked at him smugly, as if he knew that Dillon was sure to take the bait. "Become one of us.

A hunter"

"I don't understand what you're talking about sir. And please, I'd like to decline -"

"Have you ever known the dark? The things that lurk within the shadows? They are real, and they are out there for you - for all of us - "

"Woah woah woah, hold it there-"

“Hunt or be hunted - you have nothing to lose,” he added. “Think about it.”

Dillon wasn't sure what the hell was going on, or what that man wanted from him. He was dumbstruck by the crazy offer he was given – just who on earth was this guy?

“Trust me” the man said.“Come with me, to fight the darkness”
---

The man would come again now and then, watching Dillon from a distance. Dillon was slowly giving in to his curiosity. The man was more than willing to share the story, to answer questions. He would remind Dillon over and over again - that he was what they wanted, that he should join them.

The seed planted in his mind was growing. Dillon thought of the wild idea as an outlet to escape the depressing reality. It made him feel a sense of self-worth. He could start afresh as someone else. He could prove himself to be a greater person for once.