Through the Veil

Releasing a deep sigh, Eric closed his eyes, his hand absentmindedly rising to caress his forehead as he fought to keep a headache in check. Forty-five minutes. Just forty-five minutes and he would be home free, or so he had thought. However, the distant wails of the sirens declared otherwise. Illuminated by the harsh glare of his monitor and the cold fluorescent lighting of his cubical, the palled man's complexion grew paler.

The man's youthful features clearly bore the marks of overwork and insufficient sleep. Deep, purple bags clung beneath his eyes, a stark contrast to the dot of hazel amidst his bloodshot sclera. A veil of black stubble covered his jaw, thinning as it approached his ears. A black polo and wrinkled khaki's clung to the man's frame, a bit more snugly than it once had. Those who knew him in college would have been hard pressed to recognize the man he had become just six months later.

Reclining into the low back of his office chair, Eric took a deep breath before letting out another long sigh, ruffling the haphazard stacks of papers which crowded around him. He knew what the sirens meant, and he knew what he had to do, but that didn't mean he was eager to do it. Sitting still, the man listened as a sigh echoed from the cubicle next to him. Moments later, wheels ground against carpet and cheap plastic rattled as his neighbor stood up.

"There's always something." At his neighbor's snort of exhaustion, Eric opened his eyes, running his hand through his hair before turning his attention towards Derrick. Dressed in a teal polo and khaki's, the other man's appearance echoed Eric's own. Besides his red hair and slightly wider waste, the same signs of exhaustion were weathered into the other man's face.

"Why is it always Friday? Is it too much to ask to start the weekend on time for once?" Irritation colored Eric's voice as he stood up, reaching over to grab his jacket as he logged out of his computer with a few quick key strokes.

"Hey, leaks don't run on a schedule." Derrick shrugged, his voice placating as he grabbed his own jacket and began to tidy his work station. After a moment, he continued, a note of amusement in his voice.

"So, what do you think it'll be this time? Another purple stop sign?" At Derrick's question, Eric paused, before letting out yet another sigh. The dark haired man felt the tension leave him as he accepted the inevitable.

"Who knows? Is there even any rhyme or reason?" Eric's voice was tired, but the irritation had left him.

"No, but if we're going to be locked up for a few hours, it's a good way to kill some time; unless you'd prefer to talk about cases?" Derrick's voice was light, his humorous nature shining through. It was one of the reasons Eric had managed to stick with the company as long as he had. Jackets in hand, they began to make their way towards the shelter, joining the stream of people exiting the nearby cubicles.

"Do you want a serious answer, or a fun one?" As the number of people increased, so too did the noise as other coworkers held their own conversations, a mixture of frustration and excitement bubbling in the air. However, understaffed as they were, Eric didn't have to raise his voice very much to be heard.

"Why not both?" As Derrick spoke, he made his way through a fire door and into a stairwell. The red-haired man couldn't help but let out a groan at his impending twelve story descent.

"What's the matter? It's just a few stairs. You've been talking about wanting to get some exercise." Eric couldn't help but poke fun at his friend, a smile parting his lips for the first time in hours.

"You work here another six months and you'll be right where I am." Patting his belly, Derrick rolled his eyes before beginning his descent. A few seconds passed before Eric continued.

"Serious answer; I'm betting something got fried. Some momentary distortion caused a power outage somewhere or blew a transformer. Nothing strong enough to effect simpler systems, but strong enough to trigger the alarm. Worst case scenario, it caused a car wreck somewhere or maybe even broke a few windows." Derrick nodded at Eric's bored response.

While two or three lock downs a year was enough to render them mundane to most people over the age of ten, it only took a few months of processing insurance claims for minor supernatural drips to render them mundane. Eighty percent of the time, something expensive shorted out. Sixteen percent of the time, something strange appeared. The other four percent of the time, the wizards would clean things up. As damage assessors for supernatural insurance, they both knew the serious answer; work.

"Fun answer; I hope we get a gravity distortion. You know, a low gravity zone. Something at least the size of a basketball court so that it'll last for a week or two. I've always wanted to try one." Eric's cheek rose into a wishful smirk at the thought. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Eric and Derrick made their way towards the exit, stepping out onto the sidewalk. Rows of dilapidated buildings stood to either side of the road, the remnants of a city in decline. After allowing Derrick a few seconds to catch his breath, they began their half block walk to the nearest shelter.

"That'd be a fun one. But do you know what would be really fun?" Slightly out of breath from exertion, a teasing note entered Derrick's voice.

"Oh no…" Realizing that this entire conversation had been a trap from the beginning, Eric let out an exasperated groan.

"I'm hoping for a petrified tree." Derrick could hardly contain his mirth at his friend's annoyance.

"You and your trees again…" Eric rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm serious. You need to go to sapphire tree park. It's only an hour away." Derrick gesticulated as he spoke, the fatigue of his walk forgotten as his passion was ignited.

"Yes, yes. You've told me before. A cherry blossom tree turned to blue stone mid-bloom. I've seen the pictures." Despite Eric's disinterest, Derrick's passion was still contagious. The dark haired man couldn't help but feel his mood improve.

"Pictures don't do it justice. You need to see it in person to really appreciate it." As the two men spoke, they finally arrived at their designated shelter; a rough, concrete staircase descending beneath an abandoned fire station. Located in one of the more remote neighborhoods in Darlton, theirs was one of the smaller shelters, designed with a maximum occupancy of a hundred people. Today, it was unlikely to hold more than fifty.

Nodding towards the doorman on their way in, the men continued to descend further down the stone steps, the natural light of the cloudy day giving way to dim fluorescent lighting of the stone passage. A few moments later, the solid clang of metal on metal echoed through the tunnel as the doorway above was closed, sealing them within.