Morningwood sucked. Oh yeah, to be rigid and ready in the wee hours of the day might sound sexy, but it honestly just held up the pipes.

Ril lay curled up next to him; she could be confused for a marble statue with the sheets draped and drawn around her just so.

The only indication to the contrary was her slight shifting and adjustment as Jon go out of bed. He pecked her lightly on the forehead, and she purred, smiling with eyes closed.

“Thank you.” He whispered, because, for all her glamorous looks, she had gone easy on him with the biochemistry of that particular meat suit. Most Alphas could secrete powerfully euphoric and psychotropic drugs from their gene-crafted bodies.

The word ‘promiscuity’ did not even begin to cover what Alphas could manage. Many a person breathed their last breaths in or on an Alpha. It was by choice of course.

On the Main Root, in places where euthanasia was legal, amenable Alphas could be found. Death by Alpha Overdose, AOD, was rated the number one way to go throughout the multiverse, and that was a verified fact coming from extremely disappointed survivors.

True to her word, Rilian went with a low-tech model. The sex could almost be considered human; there was no downgrading the mind though.

Jon felt very lucky to be alive ambling on weak legs to the toilet; cardio could be skipped on most days from here on. I’m all about efficiency, he grimaced, even if it costs some sanity in trade.

Throwing on some comfortable Bunker clothes in his quarters, Jon headed for breakfast.

Kay was to be found in the kitchen masticating half-awake on oatmeal porridge. Extra portions were already prepared in the pot.

Jon wordlessly served up his own buttered and honeyed helping, with dried fruit for extra tang.

“Master, I would like to request a room change.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I see there are open rooms down the corridor nearer to the rift area. Might I also ask that you find ways of dampening the sound somehow, anyhow? Everything carries rather well through this grey concrete.”

“I will make the necessary arrangements recruit.”

“I think the ‘recruit’, in this case, is you, Master.”

He soberly accepted the veracity of it while scooping his first spoonful.

After Kay considered him more seriously, she said, “In any event, thank you for your ‘service’. I have enquired with Evy on Alphas since she arrived, and I presently understand some of the rather uncouth complications her presence brings to the fore. You were undoubtedly the best person equipped for the task.”

“Don’t ever let Ril hear you say that or she’ll show you otherwise.”

Even in the simulated pale morning light, Kay’s rosy blush was unmistakable. There was no way she could out-embarrass him; the padawan was but a babe in these matters.

“Anyhow, one dragon slain. Let’s see what our zombie slayer got up to in the night.” They moved to the living room to access the RF tracking and audio feeds.

Ril came in shortly after, entirely unsuitably dressed. She plopped down on the sofa next to Jon.

“Whose shirt is that?” He asked.

“It’s yours.”

“I don’t own any white shirts.”

“I know, checked your purchase history, remember. Bought you some.” She tucked her bare legs under her buttocks and rested her head on his shoulder with a satisfied sigh.

“Let me get this straight. You bought a bunch of white shirts in my size just so you could wear them after sex?”

“Face it Kel; you were never gonna say ‘no’.”

“I’m not sure I said ‘yes’ either.”

“We both did repeatedly, trust me, I can replay the neural recordings.”

Kay gazed academically at their banter. “Why is a white shirt so significant?”

“No! Don’t take the bait, Kay!” But it was too late. Ril swiftly grabbed his glass of water and tossed it on her chest.

“Oops.” Proudly, she displayed her pert nipples, before snuggling up to Jon. “How embarrassing, please hide me Kel.” The water proceeded to rapidly soak him too, and he felt everything underneath, or more precisely nothing. That said, the gentle rhythm of her heaving ribs was reassuring in some animalistic way.

“Oh. Oh, dear,” was all the comment Kay could produce.

He sent an admonishing look her way, while Ril nuzzled his pec.

Kay asked, “Is this…? Will this be a regular fixture from now on?”

“Not to worry recruit, I’ll have her house trained within a month or two. On the upside, she’ll be using the shower normally from now on. You see? Progress!”

“If you say so, Master.” Kay was a terrible liar.

“Correction: we will be using the shower sometimes normally from now on. Also, we need a bigger bed. That single was fine to corner you from escaping, but we’re over that hump.”

Kay choked on her porridge.

Ril continued to luxuriate herself into him. Her scents and breakfast were starting to mix.

“I… have a king size.” He slummed it enough world-side. More real-estate was a practical but extremely rewarding amenity.

Ril unstuck herself and punched his shoulder. “Why the fuck didn’t you say so sooner!”

He had kept that secret under lock and key. “It was extremely dangerous intel to leak to the enemy.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Well, I guess that solves that.” She got up, soaked garment, singular, completely forgotten and sauntered to the kitchen to grab breakfast. “I want a key before the end of the day, or I forge my own. More good news, Kel! You have another spare room.”

“Umm, can you get me another glass of water while you’re there. I seem to have… used mine.”

“Do I look like your wife?”

Kay was becoming a study in the shades of pink.

“I hate to say it, but you are barefoot and in the kitchen.”

Ril’s smiling contemplation was far more terrifying than any rebuttal. “I guess I am.”

He desperately wanted precise clarification as to which point she assented.

However, such knowledge came at a high price, so he kept his trap shut. It chewed on oatmeal, harkening back to simpler days when breakfast tasted better than pussy.

A few minutes later, they were, at last, being productive. Lee had stayed up the previous night, likely sharing shifts with Min to watch the tracker feed. He saw the new mail with attached highlights. It read:

> ‘Didn’t see much point in waking ya, and top-side Rilian was unusually attentive. Said you could use the rest.’

“‘Rest’, huh?” He eyed Ril accusingly.

“I’m as ignorant as you, Kel. The bitch often keeps me in the dark; I received no new messages. I’ll tell her ‘thanks’ though.” She blazed an unapologetic smile.

Checking the mail time stamp read 2:41 am; they were both knocked out long before that anyway. Jon sighed and read on. Scrubbed highlights were attached below, and he clicked on them.

Firstly, they watched a time-lapse of how the tracker wormed its way about Elgelica on the TV screen.

There were sound clips involving a lot of sloshing water. The storm drains were well utilized that night by both Bowboy and the rain.

The map was a simple aerial composite photo taken whenever clouds decided to fuck off: this had not been often. On top of that were the obscuring trees. Nothing short of the HAS’s radar could really get much definition, but the desaturated and line sharpened map exposed landmarks and landscape well enough.

Ril’s ass-attached tracker washed off in the inclement weather, tracing its way to the river. Leaving only Zom-finger’s boot tag as their last hope.

“You see! On the ass doesn’t work no matter how hard you spank it!”

“Perhaps I need more practice.” An honest acceptance of failure painted her dazzling eyes and furrowed brow.

“Kel, would you be willing to help?” There was a soft nip on his earlobe.

“Down kitty!” He playfully slapped the top of her thigh. “The humans are working.”

“I believe only one person remains working here, Master, and she is not human.”

Jon sighed, praying once more to St. Neil Patric Harris for guidance. In response, the audio graciously produced something else besides sloshing and squishing.

Creaking doors with the tap and scrape of boots on a hard floor echoed through an interior. Crackles and whips of torch fire and lamps could be heard as the feet became still. When speaking began, it was in Elven, so the TV threw up subtitles. Jon’s rift eyes did not function in the Bunker.

“Honorable Caina-sena, I have returned with news…” reported Bowboy.

Jon interrupted, “Evy, Pause.” and playback stopped. He navigated to the bunker chat rooms via the TV. The controls were an old-school wireless keyboard and mouse, lain haphazardly on the central coffee table. It lacked the aforementioned beverage, and that needed to be remedied as well. “Lee, are you up? Min?”

“I’ll get Pete up,” said the TV, blinking with Min’s icon in a corner. “You’ve been overworking him, Kel!”

“Or maybe he’s just lazier, knowing he can rely on you.”

Min huffed.

“Please get Seph on the line too.”

“Kk, I’ll dial Shay now-now.” Presumably, she first busied herself with waking his arsehole operator.

“Barista duty, Janken!” Jon stuck up a fist, and the sacrosanct ritual of Rock, Paper, Scissors: Japanese OG Version took place. All knew the rules and the results were always beyond question—as it should be.

“Saisho gu, janken po!” Jon won, it was an elf and Alpha showdown.

“Aiko desho!” He approved of Kay’s pronunciation. Clearly, after-hours practise had occurred.

“Awesome, Ril scamper off to the kitchen and make us the black juice of life.”

“I’ll show you juice,” Ril sulked.

“Black, you hear! No cream, and NO, I don’t care where it comes from!”

“Where would she get milk? You do not usually stock it in our cold box.”

“Ril, don’t you dare answer that! Kay, don’t ask! All conversation regarding milk is officially banned as of now.”

Ril obeyed, but she gave a look that said, ‘you’re paying dearly for that’. Alphas were very creative when it came to owed favours, and he swallowed a shudder.

Sufficiently caffeinated and the relevant parties all assembled, he restarted the dialogue.

Ril leaned on an armrest and threw her satin legs over his lap, snuggling her coffee mug as it began. A self-satisfied smile spread across her face; apparently, he was claimed as her territory as of last night.

A glance at Kay revealed many conflicting emotions, none looked good. War was brewing on the homefront; it was likely it would be beyond his influence to avert. Better to cast his mind to smaller things, like saving the world.

With all relevant parties listening in, he restarted the playback.

“Honorable Caina-sena, I have returned with news. The petty thief Light-Finger is now most assuredly dead.”

“And yet I do not feel assured. Why is that do you think, Taegen?”

Sepha gasped on her end, but she did not interrupt.

The voice had an eloquent and elderly charm to it. It was in Elven, so maybe it sounded shit to elf ears for all he knew.

“It is as you say, my liege, there were… complications.” Undeniable reticence and fear wavered in Bowboy’s tenor.

The superior’s voice was calm and level in reply, “Complications? No, a painted thief is a complication. That is why I ordered his death. That he lived was not complicated; it was a massive blunder: your blunder. That you were seen fleeing the scene was not complicated either, that too was a mishap. “

Such an articulate and impassive voice was an excellent trait for a villain to have. The dude was genuinely talented, thought Jon.

Caina continued. “Then you were chased and found twice more. This too was not complicated; it was a mistake: yours.”

Even the microphone was picking up the assassin’s erratic breathing at that point.

“I can describe the pursuers, they-”

“EVERYONE CAN, YOU IMBECILE!”

Great escalation. Jon gave a light clap on his palm without pausing the audio.

“Worse, they can describe YOU and know your crime! There are NO complications; the solution is SIMPLE!” Switching to a starkly dispassionate tone, he said,” Guards, it appears a known murderer has snuck into my manor. Kill him.”

“Wait! Master, no, please! I can—“

Subsequent comments were cut short by the sound of a soft target riddled by numerous whistling sharp things. The scuffle terminated with a meaty cleave.

Jon’s imagination produced countless combinations. He took a gulp of caffeine juice during the deathly muted lull.

Sometime later, Caina spoke again. “Notify the council on the morrow that the murderer was caught skirting my property and killed in the altercation. Thereafter deliver the body to the catacombs.”

“Yes, Caina-sena!” said another dude.

There was noise close by as the legend of Bowboy was carted off and into memory.

“Done in by a zombie even after aiming for the head, what a twist! Lee, Min? Tell us if you find anything else. This should be enough to go on.”

“Gotcha,” they echoed.

“The man is named Elnaril Caina,” said Seph. “He is one of the older and highly respected council members. Men are rare in Elgelican leadership; usually, war, fighting, or ill health reap them before their wives. Council leader Caina has outlived two matriarchs already. His haleness is the source of much gossip and rumour.” She paused in deliberation, “I am sorry Kelly, if he is the elf up in the boughs, then I can do nothing. I am very new to the council, and this ‘awe-de-oh’ record could never pass for evidence of his crimes. If you sought sway within the elite of Elgelica, I am reluctant to admit you have backed the wrong Wood Elf.”

“You chose us Seph, that makes you exactly the right Wood Elf.” And besides, of all the fuckups I’ve made, I bet Seph the Sly Silver Princess ain’t one of them.

“Be that as it may, I am powerless. Moving against Elnaril Caina is beyond me.”

“Hmm... but if you could, what would you need?”