The impromptu award ceremony complete. Drew took the time to chat with JP and the others. They didn't talk about anything serious, but the devolution back to pre-advent habits of small talk felt odd to Drew. Like it belonged to a different person’s lifetime. The events of the past two weeks having distanced his sense of reality so far from the boring office worker he had become while stationed here in DC.

The entire experience felt surreal, like he had been dreaming and suddenly been woken up to a life that no longer felt real. This was made more bizarre when he realized that just a few dozen feet away from him were piles of massive dead bugs, decaying in the early morning sun. Drifting away from the meaningless conversation, he walked over to a particularly large centipede's remains.

The oil-like sheen of the chitin added a strange rainbow-hued depth to the black carapace. Reaching out, he ran a finger along the shell’s length, tracing a spot where bullets had cracked through and penetrated deep into the flesh of the beast. The edge of the plate was sharp; designed to rip things apart as much as to protect the host. Such dangerous beauty, other smaller--no, he had to remind himself that these were normal sized--insects were already feasting on the dead flesh.

Watching them work to harvest the meat, Drew wondered why some of the creatures enlarged and became monsters, while others remained normal sized. What were the criteria for selection? Was it just random chance, or was there some method to the madness? Why didn't humans mutate? Or did they? Wereghouls probably don’t count, since everything else mutated while it was still alive. Was it because of our sentience? Did more intelligent creatures like dolphins and chimps not mutate?

Was there some sort of line of demarcation where the system determined they were aware enough of their surroundings to get xatherite and a map rather than be turned into bloodthirsty monsters? Or did the monsters get xatherite and they were just too unaware to make use of them? Would some chimps be able to cast spells while their brethren turned into mindless hulks? If that was the case, would they form separate societies, or would they remain together?

Shaking his head to dislodge the useless anthropology. He needed to get everyone to safety first, then he could ponder on the various intricacies of the system.

Trista had walked up to him while he was lost in thought. "I keep trying to decide if we should even help them."

Turning slightly so that he could converse without broadcasting his words, "Who? The numb?" Drew queried.

"Yeah. Food is scarce, people are scarce. We could make a lot better time if we didn't have to drag them along with us."

Drew had been thinking along the same lines, and he frowned. Hearing it from someone else it seemed so cold, so impartial. "People are scarce, which is why we need everyone we can get. If you're still alive, there is hope. Maybe they'll snap out of it in a few days when they are in a safe place again. Besides, JP and Robbi both agree that the stadium has plenty of food."

"Maybe, maybe they will come around. What if we can't grow food this winter and people die because we were feeding the numb rather than making stockpiles. Can we really afford to gamble on these people?"

"I think that's a dangerous train of thought. What if we're out exploring another dungeon and someone breaks a leg, and no one can heal it? Do we just leave them there? If there is a chance they'll recover, then we need to risk it."

"Just doesn't seem right to ask everyone to risk their lives protecting someone who has already given up," Trista muttered, her fingers tracing the shape of one of the pistols she carried.

"It isn't about asking them to protect people who have already given up. It's Uncle Ben's: 'with great power thing. We can protect them, and they cannot protect themselves. We have a responsibility to do what we can."

"The leg thing is a bad example, they'll only be down for a few hours at most. We drag them back to a healer and they'll be fine."

"Okay, a better example: Sarah was knocked into a coma or something similar after our first big fight. Should Katie and I have just left her there?"

Trista's eyes turned towards Sarah who was busy doing the job of three other people. "No, we'd be in big trouble if we lost Sarah," she said after a moment of consideration.

"Some of the numb, when they recover, could be just as valuable as Sarah or me. It's not a gamble, it's an investment. We're not asking people to risk their lives for someone who has already given up. We...I am going to ask them to join me in risking our lives for people."

Trista shrugged, clearly not convinced but unwilling to the debate the problem further. Drew considered his words, he had said that he would ask them to risk their lives, was he going to take up a leadership role?

The Human Protectorate may see him as the highest-ranking officer on Earth, but it was clear that the existing command structure would not take kindly to him asserting that command. When it came down to it: what qualified him to be making decisions about how people should live? The ability to kill the most stuff didn't mean that he had any of the other skills needed to run a refugee camp.

Did he even want to be in charge? He was effectively free of all the bonds that had tied him down before the system arrived. There wasn't a landlord looking for his rent check every month, or a chief to yell at him if he wasn't somewhere on time, or an IRS agent looming in the corner to do an audit. Those responsibilities had been replaced. With more basic needs like survival and figuring out how to create a sustainable source of food and a hundred other concerns that all pretty much boiled down to making sure he would still be alive tomorrow.

Thinking back, he tried to remember what it had been like to be normal. Somewhere out there, there was a version of himself continuing about his life with no knowledge of the galaxy at war. That version of Drew was likely trying to decide if he needed to get up for work now, or if he could hit the snooze button one more time. Did he want that life back? Would he run away from the system like the Trolls had? Willing to do anything to be free?

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The silence between Trista and him held no answers, but the longer he considered the situation the more questions he had. Was there a morally correct choice here? And at what point did the need to survive make morality moot?

Looking back at the people he had rescued, he wondered what obligations he had to them. Did rescuing them mean he needed to stay with them forever? Were they his responsibility for the rest of his life, just because he had been in the right place to make sure they lived? He could just take Katie and leave, find somewhere they wouldn't need to worry about captains and senators. With her walls, his offense and never needing to sleep they could escape DC, go somewhere safer, somewhere easier.

Sarah could come too, and Daryl. Maybe he could convince JP and Robbi to join them? The potential betrayal at the bridge aside, Robbi had spilled blood with him and that meant something. Trista could come too, she had been very helpful in the tunnels. The names kept coming, Dak and Gary, Bill and Sun Min. With a start, he realized that pretty much every single one of the people whose names he actually knew he was willing to run away with.

They had somehow become his shipmates, his brothers in arms, and he didn't want to leave them behind.

"Alright everyone, let's get going," a female voice shouted, and Drew turned away from Trista to see Daryl behind him.

"Hey," Drew said, not sure what to say to the other man.

"Hey," Daryl responded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Trista was taking the opportunity to head to her spot near the back of the procession. Her skills making her an excellent choice for the rearguard.

"How..." Drew wanted to ask him how he was feeling. How he was dealing with the loss of his wife. Those words wouldn't come out. "Where do they have you?"

"I'll be up front, scouting the path."

Drew nodded his head, "Oh, yeah, right. That makes sense."

"I just wanted to thank you." Daryl's eyes were focused on the ground, avoiding Drew's gaze, "For bringing me out of there. I also wanted to tell you that I don't blame you."

How do you respond to that Drew wondered? "Thanks, Daryl. I'm sorry I never really got to meet her, maybe tonight you can tell me about her?" That was the proper thing to do, right? To talk about his grief and make sure he wasn't alone.

"She wouldn't have liked you, you know?" Daryl looked up at Drew. "She wouldn't have liked you because she always thought I was superman. But clearly, that's you. You're like the dragon knight they talk about in game legends. I just want you to know that I'm glad you're here. You saved my life, heck you've saved all these people's lives, and you never asked for anything in return. You're our superman. Don't let Snyder get you down too much."

The phrase dragon knight sent alarm bells ringing through Drew. What did Daryl know? Had he overheard some conversation with Katie or Sarah where they talked about the order of the dragon? The way he said it implied that he knew, or was it just a coincidence? Drew reached out to grab Daryl's hand and then leaned in to give him a one-armed hug.

"Thanks, Daryl. I couldn't have done it without the rest of you."

Daryl gave him one squeeze and then the two men spread apart again. "I don't think you needed us. Sure, we made it easier, but I think somehow you would have managed without us."

Drew opened his mouth to make a rebuttal to Daryl's claim, but Snyder's voice cut him off, "Mr. Swaze, IT2 Michalik take up your positions."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "We'll talk later." Then he turned and ran off towards the direction of the bridge, turning invisible on the second step. Still visible to Drew's mana sight, he watched the now invisible man flip the bird at the captain.

Chuckling, Drew made his way through the crowd until he was about a third of the way into the formation. Around him, everyone fell silent, and he could feel their eyes on him. He wondered if he had acquired some sort of aura of fear without knowing it. The people near him kept sending sidelong glances his way and those further out held whispered conversations while pointing at him when they thought his head was turned.

It was a strange kind of celebrity he supposed, everyone, clearly too afraid to talk to him while being unable to talk about anything but him. It was going to be a long trip. Glancing around him, he didn't notice anyone that he recognized. Most of the people directly near him seemed to be caretaker groups. None of which had stood out to him either during the rescue or in the tunnel.

There was one girl next to him, pretty in a girl next door kind of way, that merited additional consideration. She was in her mid-twenties, with thin with shoulder-length, wavy, dirty-blonde hair that still looked styled despite the world ending. Drew idly wondered if that was the result of a xatherite or if she had taken the time to style her hair. He tried to think of a polite way to ask, but after a few minutes of running conversations through his head, decided there wasn't and let the matter drop.

The blonde was guiding an older woman with dark hair turning grey at the temples. As Drew watched he noticed that while all the other caretakers were guiding the numb assigned to them, this girl seemed to be taking care to ensure that the woman didn't trip or stumble.

"Hi, I'm Drew." He walked over and took the woman's other elbow to guide her down a curb. The blonde shot him a surprised look.

"I've got her," she replied curtly.

"I know. I wasn't implying that you didn't have it. I just wanted to help."

"We don't need help."

Raising his hands in surrender Drew took a few steps away from the two going back to watching the edges for any sign that the group was under attack.

A dozen car lengths later, he heard a voice next to him, "Heather."

Glancing over, the blonde was looking at him. "Pardon?"

"My name is Heather."

"It's nice to meet you, Heather."

The blonde made a sound that was half laughter and half snort. "No, it's not. Nothing is nice anymore."

The early morning air was crisp, the end of the world had resulted in very little structural damage, resulting in a relatively normal looking world. That coupled with the regular mana storms and the mild early summer it was a very pleasant day. The kind that Drew would have looked forward, before advent anyway.

"I dunno, it's a nice day."

Heather looked at him incredulously for a second, before having to focus on the task of guiding the woman. It was clear she considered the conversation over.

"Do you know her name?"

"Shelly."

Having a feeling that he didn't really want to know the answer to the question, "Did you know her before?"

"No, that's just what I call her. Seemed rude not to call her something."

"Well, she does look like a Shelly."

The girl gave him a grim smile but didn't seem inclined to talk more, and Drew was afraid his limited social skills would create another awkward exchange. Still, the simple conversation had eased the tension from all the people around him. They were still more subdued than in other locations throughout the train, but at least now it didn't feel like they were afraid of him.