Chapter Text
The night shift. No one enjoys it, but then again no one took on this job seeking spiritual fulfillment. Only a select few out of the grimy populace took it at all. Sure, everyone yearned for it, desperately grasping at the promise of a better future dangled just out of reach. Then they slunk back to the writhing masses of Bonesborough’s public transit system, cursing their luck and hexing the fortunate ones. Daring to hope for another shot. No, you didn’t join the Emperor’s Coven to relax at a cushy desk all day while you focused on opening your chakras using a guide that the wizard down the street swore would work if you just paid him a few more snails in advance, because then he could offer you the supplementary manual, which he was sure would broaden your psychic horizons. You joined the Emperor's Coven for security. For money. And, if you worked and worked for years on end, slowly climbing the ranks and filing away the busywork, never complaining and never asking questions that would upset, for glory. At least that’s what Steve liked to tell himself. Maybe if he whispered it under his breath a few more times he’d start to believe it. He’d been delegated to night shift duty for three years now. It wasn’t as if he deserved a promotion. In fact, he was comfortable where he was, thank you very much, no important missions for him, no sir-ee. Sometimes he found himself pining for excitement. On days like those Steve found it practical to remember that the only reason he ever heard exciting news was because the reporters had been running directly away from it. He wasn’t bored enough to accrue a death wish.
The rain was coming down hard around him. Steve held out his glove, cradling the steamy warmth through a layer of protective armor. Boiling torrents hissed as they met the cobbles, evaporating on impact. A gust of wind sent one shower clattering into the window above him. Steve sighed. God, he hated this job. He’d wanted to open a flower shop, but nooooooo. Join the Emperor’s Coven, his parents had said. You’ll have a bright future ahead of you, they’d crooned. In some ways they had been right. It was a well paying job, and Steve always knew where he was sleeping. But occasionally his shifts seemed to drag on beyond all reason. Tonight’s, for example, had wrung an entire extra half-hour out of Eienspine’s theory of relativity. Steve cupped his right hand above his brow, squinting to see the moon through the citywide sauna. That was odd. Judging by the moon’s position in the sky, an alarm signaling the changing of the guard should’ve gone off a while ago. Steve considered his options. If he investigated, it might turn out to be a benign internal error, and he would be allowed to end his shift as normal. On the other hand, this reeked of the kind of story that no reporter lived to tell another day. On the third, malformed hand that picked nervously at the back of his skull, if he sat here much longer someone else was bound to notice and place the blame on him. Fewer and fewer low ranking commanding officers were available as the day of Unity crept closer. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting with one of the remaining higher ups.
Tentatively, he took a step onto the cobbles. The motion detecting demon heralding his station blinked sleepily before dozing off for good. The only thing left to guide him was the next outpost’s distant shimmer. There was no turning back now. Steve swallowed and strode into the mist.