"Jesus, John, what did that locker ever do to you?"
I look up from throwing my gear into the offending metal box to the grinning face of one of my most idiotic coworkers, and unfortunately, my partner.
"I mean," Andrew continues, unfaltering under my unimpressed glower, "you're stuffing your gear in there like you're trying to tenderize that smooth metal interior through sheer force alone."
Andrew pauses, and I return to putting away my things with even more fervor.
He breaks his silence with a wry, "...And you might succeed. Careful, management will be pissed if they have to foot the costs of a broken locker."
The worst part of the locker room was the layout. It was tiny, given that the entire organization was housed on the top floor of some business complex, and all the lockers faced inwards- no dividers or anything.
Which meant there was no escaping Andrew after missions.
Being in his presence was enough. I didn't need to be pestered by him, too.
I slam the locker shut. "Please, shut up."
-
Andrew leaves early for some date or something (probably something, that asshole could never get a date), leaving me to do the mission report. That's fine, anyways, because while I normally try to worm out of reports, this one will be my last one before my vacation- might as well finish my concluding mission properly.
My long awaited vacation. The work I do is important, but taxing, especially with school. It's difficult to be out on missions all night and still wake up for English Lit, you know?
By the time I get to the head office, I've already got my next few days planned out. Get home from school and take a nap instead of reporting for duty. Make some dinner instead of running around in heavy, chafing canvas vests. Be asleep by midnight instead of making mission reports.
God, I can't wait.
I slam the door open into Ms. Naomi's office, who is thankfully not with company, instead sitting regally in her giant chair in front of her giant desk on the platform at the head of the room. It's ridiculously ostentatious- the chair is high-backed and upholstered in what looks like red leather, with little brass buttons, and the desk is glossy and tall. Combined with the raised floor and Ms. Naomi's penchant for gold headbands, it's the closest thing you can get to a throne room in a rented office space.
I slap the thin folder detailing our mission onto the heavy oak monstrosity she does paperwork on, grinning like a loon in anticipation for getting out of there. "Tailed her for less than an hour when we saw her sending imps after a roommate she didn't like. Knocked her out and got her into the cells afterwards pretty easily."
Ms. Naomi graces me with a smile, taking the folder and flipping it open. "Good job," she says as she skims my report. "You always do well in cleansing the world of these evildoers. One of my best witch hunters, I would say."
I duck my head at the praise. "Thanks, Ms. Naomi, it means a lot. Also-" I dig into my pocket, extracting a small golden token, "-here's my Hunter token. I was told earlier I couldn't hold onto it when I'm on vacation."
She waves a hand at me dismissively. "Keep it," she says, half distracted by my report. "Something came up so we're cancelling your time off. We're detecting demonic energy frequently at the school you attend, so we're putting you on that assignment. Find out who it is and all that."
I stare at her in horror. Could they even do that?
"You... cancelled my time off?"
She doesn't even look up from reading, the horrible, slave driving boss that she is. "Terribly sorry, but you're the best for the job. Be sure to get here early tomorrow morning so you can be briefed before school."
"Do I get back the vacation days I saved for this?"
"Hmm... likely not."
I have never wished more that we had an HR department.
-
When I do get debriefed, I find myself wondering why the hell I needed to wake up early for this.
The information that's provided to me is minimal. Spikes in demonic energy in the area around my school, happening most often in the school itself. Likely a teacher or a student. Been happening for years, but not often enough to draw suspicion to the school itself until recently.
My instructions are to keep an eye out and bring a portable energy sensor with me to school, to try and find out who the witch is. If I get an opportunity, I bring her in. Most likely, I'll call for backup, considering I'll probably be in school at the time.
A super basic, but super long and tedious assignment that they probably could have assigned to anyone.
I scowl as I stare at my mission folder and the walkie-talkie-like sensor on the table. Witches really are stains on society, for making me work through my vacation like this.
Damn it. Maybe if I catch this blasted witch fast enough I can relax for the rest of my vacation.
"Looking sharp there, John!" Andrew cackles as he swans into the office.
"Fuck off," I growl. I know I look like a mess- last night's mission ended at one am, and I reported back in at five am. After finishing my homework.
I have no idea how Andrew does it. Yeah, he might be working here full time and yeah, he doesn't have anything on the side, but he still finishes missions at the same time as me and reports in at six am while I usually report in at four pm.
Like I would have today if not for this witch.
Hell, if not for this witch, I'd be sleeping right now.
Whoever this witch is, I hate her.
The pungent smell of cologne fills my senses as Andrew leans over my shoulder. "So this is why you're here today? Instead of sleeping in? Pity, you could've used the beauty sleep," he teases.
"Shut up, old man," I grumble. Andrew leans back, and I can't see him, but I know he's busy being dramatically offended. He's probably got a hand clasped to his heart and everything.
"Me? Old? Is it the wrinkles? The gray hair? Oh no, I'm not aging gracefully! This is a travesty!"
"You're like, twenty," I snap.
"You're like, twelve," he mocks in return, coming into view to slide into a chair next to me. I twist my nose in disgust. The bastard knows damn well I'm sixteen.
"So..." he starts, as he drags over the folder, "how easy is it?"
One of the reasons that Andrew is an asshole is that he never gives his attention when he's listening. He'll be on his phone or whatever when you're talking, and you can't even call him out on it, because he'll just quote whatever you just said to show he was hearing you.
So, despite the fact he's got his nose buried in my assignment, I reply, "Pretty easy. I'm finishing this as quickly as possible so I can enjoy the rest of my time off."
He snorts. "Easy? Yeah, but quick? No way. Find one witch in a school with what, a thousand people? Good luck on even catching the end of your time off."
"Oh?" I retort. I'm a little pissed off, because Andrew is right, and I don't want him to be. "I'm finishing this in less than a week. Then I'm spending the rest of my month going to bed before ten."
Andrew just shrugs. "Whatever you say, kid."
This witch is going down. Like a serial killer cheetah. Violently and very, very quickly.