Mason let Streak into the house after supper (and a fairly grumpy bath), and they all cuddled up on the couch and watched old movies on the settlement's digital storage system.

They ate popcorn, talked about their lives a little, but mostly just enjoyed each other's company in silent touch. It was the laziest, sexiest, best day of Mason's time in the apocalypse, and he was easily able to imagine what life with his girls could be if all the madness was over.

The idea was so wonderful he had to shut it down.

Not possible yet, and maybe not for a long time. Then he started to worry he was wasting time—that he should be out there trying to clear the corrupted trees, or find the imprisoned druid, or at least exploring more of the world. And he knew every hour and every day counted.

But he fought that down, telling himself he and the girls had earned at least one day to themselves, one day to be a family. Or whatever the hell they were.

"You look thoughtful," Haley said as she ran her hands through his increasingly long hair, his head in her lap. Rebecca was lying the other way, socked feet dangling over his hip.

"Today has been amazing," he said. "But tomorrow I've gotta get moving. And we need a command structure. I don’t know who the hell does anything or even who to ask."

Haley frowned. "Blake didn't really do that. We've run...well, more like a corporate office. I just take messages until he gets back. Though Hank is mostly in charge of the civilians."

"Yeah, well, that ends now. Far as I'm concerned this is a military outfit, and the players are in charge of violence. So I need a second in command." He wiggled Becky's feet. "Might make sense to be you, if you're up for it."

The cowgirl frowned and blushed a little. "How about Phuong? He's ex-military and smart and knows a lot about…well, everything. He kept us alive out there, before Nassau. You can trust him."

Mason nodded, happy with that. "I think I'll make him and Carl equals when I'm gone. It should work out. Everyone should have a rank and a role, all this grey area nebulous bullshit is stupid, but...well, we'll figure all that out when Blake gets back." He looked up to see Haley grinning at him. "What?"

"This suits you, you know."

"What does?"

"Being in charge."

He sat up and sighed. "No it doesn't. I hate it."

Haley laughed and rubbed her feet on Rebecca's in his lap. "Doesn't mean you're not good at it. I think Blake will agree when he gets back."

* * *

The girls did their routines then joined him in bed, then lay together in their pajamas with heads in the crooks of his arms. It had been the perfect day. He'd forgotten entirely about worrying for his brother, or leveling up to fight ever-increasing threats, or all the other likely terrible dangers of the future.

His luck stat, he decided as he lay there, was complete horseshit.

He wasn't sure what it should have been, but there was no chance that a score of seven could possibly result in his current circumstance. Had what he'd faced in this new world truly been so horrific to deserve these two amazing women in his bed?

The thought and answer sent a shiver down his spine. He felt some dark threat pressing in, some terrible misfortune just waiting to destroy him and any chance at happiness. A man's 'luck' may be very different indeed, depending how long you measured it.

He hated that feeling—what Blake called his 'paranoia', no doubt formed from being abandoned so young. It wasn't 'real', he knew that, and yet that feeling of impending doom had protected him more times than he could count—warned him of bad friends and girlfriends and teachers, circumstances full of youthful stupidity and danger. He couldn’t just ignore it.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

So he woke before the dawn, filled with a restless energy that he knew wouldn't be satisfied by women no matter how beautiful and dedicated. Neither Haley nor Rebecca made so much as a groan as he got up, and he took a moment to watch them sleep and smile.

They deserved everything he could give them—every second of his attention and strength out there making Nassau ready for what was to come. Making himself ready.

Before he dressed he looked at the system's 'tablet', suddenly determined to use and actually figure the damn thing out. He eventually found what he was looking for—a kind of 'drawing pad' with all kinds of options. He set to work until the sun had risen a little, then stood and dressed.

"Streak," he called as he picked up his bow, then walked out. The wolf clearly sensed his energy and scrambled after, ears down and eyes clear in seconds as he panted and followed.

He wanted to talk to Phuong first. Out of curiosity more than anything he pulled up Wayfinder and smiled as he looked at Nassau. There was a new Patron 'tab' that as he opened it, showed him every person with a contract as a blip on his map. He found the old man lying beneath the same huge tree he'd rested under those many hours before. Except there was a young woman lying beside him...

"Master Mason," he said as he sat up and crossed his legs. "I've just been watching the stars. They are the same, you know, or at least close enough to fool me."

Mason flicked his eyes to the girl and back and grinned.

"Oh. Yes." Phuong looked a bit embarrassed and opened his mouth once before he spoke. "She's from Laos, originally. I lived there for many years. We got to talking and...well, she's a bit less than half my age. It's all a little silly, but..."

"You won't hear a word from me. But if you're feeling too tired I might go and ask..."

"I'm not infirm," Phuong snapped, then stood and glared before softening at Mason's grin. "You're a cheeky young man, Master Mason. Very cheeky."

"Send your woman off, then meet me at the gate with a travel bag. We're going to go clear a dungeon."

Phuong's eyes practically flared with an eagerness that matched Mason's mood, and he knew he'd made the right choice. He found Alex already awake, too, sitting on a bench with his own tablet.

"What are you reading?" Mason said as he approached.

The Belarussian looked up with his usual complete lack of expression.

"Russian poetry."

Mason had absolutely no idea if this was a joke.

"Well, if you'd like a little more excitement—Phuong and I are going to go clear a dungeon. Feel like keeping us alive? As a bonus, we're going to go wake up Carl. Rudely if we feel like it."

Alex glanced up at the morning sky as if considering, then stood with a nod, and absolutely no discernible expression. Mason supposed that was that.

Together they walked to the house Carl and Silvie had claimed, and Mason was about to knock before he decided to look in the open window. He could see the couple in bed, and thought he could at least spare Silvie. He threw some nearby pebbles until the older man grunted and rolled to his feet, waving a knife hand until he heard Mason hiss.

"What in the name of God? Mason is that you?"

He eventually came out with a scowl and a robe.

"I need you to be in charge of the town while I go with Phuong and Alex to clear a dungeon. It's time for them to get some more experience."

Carl instantly lost his anger and nodded. "I agree. Alright, well I'll tell Silvie when she..."

"Not Silvie, Carl. You. Players are in charge of Nassau. You can take her advice. You can talk to Haley and Rebecca and Seul-ki and whoever the hell else you want. But you're in charge, what you say goes, because I'm counting on you to protect this place while I'm gone. That’s your job, first and last. Understood?"

The older man stood a little straighter and nodded, the sleep clearing from his eyes. Mason clapped his shoulder and took out the map he'd drawn using Wayfinder.

"Good. I want you to keep things moving. Try new fishing spots, start patrolling wherever you think they make sense, look for survivors. If there's danger...use your judgment. The map's pretty detailed."

"Holy shit." Carl took it and blinked. "I'll say. How'd you do that?" Before Mason could answer he waved a hand. "Nevermind. OK, kid. I won't let you down. Er, again."

Mason smiled with some difficulty, knowing the man still felt guilty about Blake.

"I don't blame you, Carl. I trust you, and I know you did what you thought was right. Just get these lazy players doing something, alright? I'll see you in a few days. I hope."

The relief on Carl’s face was obvious. "I'd say the players are fairly busy after last night, but I'll do my best," he said and grinned.

Mason snorted then left Carl to go back inside, and he and Alex went to the gate and found Phuong waiting with not one but three packs of supplies. He winked and handed two over. Streak yapped and started sniffing after them before Mason pushed him away.

"Ready to pop your cherries, gentlemen?"

They both stared at him in confusion and he sighed. "Not everything translates. Let's just go. And I hope you've been doing cardio because I'm not going less than half speed."

"Not a problem for me!" Phuong yelled. Alex grunted in something like inevitable acceptance.

"I'm healer," he said in his thick accent, "not physical specimen like you."

Mason laughed. "Not to worry, I can carry you. And you can speak in your native language, you know, the machine translates."

"I don't trust," Alex said, kind of already huffing as they jogged.

"To translate?"

"At all, but yes. I don't want listening."

Mason stopped and looked at the man. He suspected roboGod was somehow listening and watching everything. But maybe not...and avoiding translation just might reduce one's chances. Very clever. Very clever indeed. "Alex," he said, "I think we're going to get along just fine. Now move those old legs. But let me know if you feel a heart attack coming."

The Belarussian glared, then they all ran towards the orc fortress, and the nearby great tree, in puffing silence.