You trudged along side your brother Philip. Your hair matted against your face. Dried blood caked over your entire body. Your clothes still wet from the red liquid. Philip was no worse for wear.
His smile was broader than any you had ever seen. The moron was always joyful after a good hunt. The run down office building came into sight and you felt a wave of relief. You could finally wash off, get into some clean clothes, and relax. You scanned your badges at the door.
Watching the tinted glass swing open. The second you entered you were receiving disgusted looks. The secretary at the front desk making an offhand comment about your bloody appearance.
“Try not to ruin the carpet,” she mumbled as the elevator doors slid shut. You were tempted to wipe your hand on the buttons. Just to irritate her further. However you weren’t that petty...most of the time. A loud creak sounded and the elevator began it’s descent.
Philip was happily humming along to the overhead music. A rendition of Greensleeves. The elevator shook before coming to a rattling halt. The doors screeched open as a group of brownies rushed in. You were wary not to step on any.
You had learned long ago just how evil angry brownies could get. You were currently in the support department. A large spacious room with cavern like walls. Bright lanterns attached to the wall every six paces. The IT people were huddled in the small cubicles set up for offices.
Bright glowing messengers flitting past. The little balls of light pausing every so often before changing direction. You had to stop at the decontamination station. To make certain you hadn’t picked anything up while on patrol. You inwardly groaned as you spotted the long waiting line that had already formed.
It might not take to long though. Most of the beings looked cleaner than you. Perhaps you could get out of here in time to grab some food from that pizza place down the street from your apartment. A low growl caught your attention. A werewolf sat on one of the examination tables.
Scratching furiously at it’s shoulders and arms. Dark purple veins protruding from under it’s fur. You internally cringed at the sight. Needle veins, an all to familiar virus. It wouldn’t kill but it definitely hurt.
It was quite common in the cities. Most witches or charm dealers set up traps. An unsuspecting Sentry would walk into it and WHAM. Face full of purple powder and a killer rash for the next week. Slowly the line inched forward.
Philip was still in an upbeat mood but your’s was quickly declining. You just wanted to get clean and go home! Couldn’t the line move any faster?! The half fae in front of you was pulled aside. Talked to in a hushed voice as you stepped into the scanner.
She burst into tears and that’s when you saw what was wrong. A tattoo of black thorns were laced around her throat. A silence hex, that would take a lot more magic to fix. The scanner beeped tearing you from your thoughts. Turning back to the scanner you lifted your arms. Philip stood behind you, a smirk adorning his lips. You knew he was feeling smug about being the cleaner of the two of you.
“I swear, if i get Hepatitis because of this i’ll kill you,” you growled. He placed his hand against his chest feigning a look of hurt.
“What? Why would you blame me?” He replied innocently. You shot him a warning glare as the light flashed green. You stepped through and he took your place inside the booth.
“Because you were the one using me for bait! Letting all the vampires hoard around me so you could get an easier shot. Now look at me! I’m a little kids first grade art project,” you huffed. He rolled his eyes striding past you.
“Relax, the blood they were drinking wasn’t even human. It was a substitute liquid.”
“How does that make it better?!” You demanded. He shrugged as you both made your way towards the locker rooms.
“Because you’re human and you aren’t magic. So it won’t hurt you.”
“Magic doesn’t work that way,” you muttered. Sometimes you wondered how he was a more experienced hunter than you. His explanations made no sense, his spells tended to backfire, and he was always angering the pixies. He pushed the door open allowing you past him. You scrolled your lockers combination in. Watching the silver bolts slide out of place. Opening the door you pulled out a fresh pair of clothes and a towel.
“We might be getting re-stationed,” Philip hummed closing his locker. You pried the buttons off of your shirt. Face twisting into a look of disgust as the wet fabric pulled free.
“I will gladly go anywhere that doesn’t involve vampires.”
“Wuss,” Philip teases. You hurled your bloody button up at him. It struck him square in the face with a slap. He gagged quickly hurling it onto the floor.
“See? Proof enough we both could do with a re-station without vampires,” you snickered. Philip snorted grabbing his towel as he headed towards the showers.
“What if we get stationed somewhere with minotaurs? Or dragons? Would you be happy then?” He retorted. You mulled over the thought giving a shrug.
“Eh, fair point.”
“Precisely. Now go shower, you look like a Jason Pollock painting.”
“And you don’t?!” You snapped. His only response was a laugh as he rounded the corner of the locker room. Heading off towards the showers. You slung your towel over your shoulder scowling to yourself. Stretching your arms forward you soon followed suite.
Where would you even be stationed at? There were hundreds of Silver Sentry headquarters around the world. Most of which were in large cities where monsters had learned to thrive. Starting the shower you let out a soft huff. You quickly stripped the rest of your clothes off.
Hot water drizzled over your body. Helping to get rid of the dried red patches on your skin. You leaned forward pressing your forehead against the cool tiles of the shower stall. Wherever you went you just hoped they had a good facility. Most mythicals didn’t take lightly to non-magics.