Mason and Haley found Becky reading on a tablet when they reached the new chief's hall. The cowgirl leapt up and ran to them, and pretty soon they were all just standing there in a wordless hug. Mason felt a lot of tension drain at the contact, deciding they might all just need some couch time instead of a sexual workout.
He carried both girls into the hall, then realized he'd never actually been inside. It was definitely new and improved. Everything looked like beautifully crafted wood, quite a lot like the log-cabinish buildings in the elven city. He saw a lot of comfortable, vaguely leafy furniture, and a few balconies that looked out over the forest.
"The new bed is much bigger," Haley said suggestively, and Mason snorted. Instead he took them to a kind of...sectional set up near a screen. He pulled both girls down and crushed them into him, closing his eyes as he took slow, deep breaths. They got the idea and cuddled with abandon.
"We could watch a movie!" Becky said. "Mason needs some pop culture. And he promised."
Mason just grunted, soaking in the feel of his girls against him, the smell of their hair, the softness of their skin. He did his best to lock it in his mind, knowing he might need it the next time he was, say, swallowed by a giant worm. Or God only knew what.
He heard a movie flick on, then Becky and Haley chatting and laughing and probably teasing him. But his mind was already drifting into a dreamless sleep.
Eventually he felt hands massaging his neck and scalp, gentle kisses on his face.
"It's time, my love," Haley said, and Mason blinked awake.
He groaned and grabbed Becky's hip beside him, burying his face in her thigh like a cushion. She giggled and tried to scoot away, but he was inhumanly strong. She tugged harder, Haley leaping on his back with a laugh as they both tried to free the cowgirl.
"No. My pillow," Mason said, fighting them off so easily it felt bizarre. After holding Haley back with one hand he couldn’t help but laugh. "It's like wrestling toddlers.”
Becky growled as she put a foot on his shoulder and pushed. Mason just yawned and let her struggle, eventually grabbing for her shorts before Haley gave his hand a smack.
"Too late for that now, Baron. It's almost time for the beacons. We should get you dressed."
Right. The beacons. Talking to all of humanity. Apparently Mason had slept longer than he thought.
"No need."
He let Becky escape with a sigh, knowing she was just as disappointed as he was. Then he stood and stepped back with both girls watching, grinning as he pulled off his system clothes. It definitely didn't hurt his ego as the two beautiful women stared, eyes locked and expressions hungry as he stripped.
"Well..." Haley groaned. "Maybe if we...were really fast..."
Mason grinned, then activated Eve's Vestments, covering himself in the newly upgraded armor. He felt somewhat instantly silly, looking down at himself and feeling the disconnect from the reality of his girls to his own fantasy, nature-warlord appearance.
"OK. It's...a little over the top," he admitted, though he did like the scales. "I can lose the horns. Or maybe..."
"Don't. Change. Anything," Haley said, putting a hand to her mouth. "Mason you look... you look...absolutely..."
"Terrifyin’," Becky finished. Haley nodded.
Mason wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He didn't want to frighten the bejeesus out of prospective new citizens. They might keep away from the safest refuge in existence just because of how Mason dressed. On the other hand, for whatever other killers or tyrants were out there, he preferred they…get the right impression.
"Take Streak, too," Haley said. "Have him sit right beside you."
Mason frowned, thinking that was definitely a bit much. But his instinct was to be cautious, to scare off predators before worrying about attracting friends. So he just nodded and went for the door.
"I want you both there, too," he called. "So put something decent on."
"You could always stay and watch," Becky teased. But Mason knew he'd never make it out if he gave in to that. Also his patience definitely wouldn't last.
He walked across the raised platform without a word, summoning a bleary eyed Streak with Call Beast en route. The wolf yawned, then bounced along with enthusiasm, flooding Mason with hopes of hunting, or at least some kind of excitement.
"No," he said, "there’s no excitement. There’s a lot of sitting and human talking and you're going to be very bored. But I'll get you a bone. Or probably three."
Streak whine/growled, but Mason was definitely wise to finish with the comment about bones. The pair crossed from their platform to the central Nexus, a bit surprised to find damn near half of Nassau mingling and jabbering excitedly wherever there was space. Even some of the elves had come, with Naya and a few others dressed in more formal silks.
Mason walked towards her with a friendly smile. But as she stared with saucer-sized eyes along with everyone else, he remembered how he was dressed. He probably should have unsummoned the horns, at least.
"Just a helmet," he said with a raised voice, knocking on the helm with a fist. "I'm supposed to look scary."
“You have succeeded, Patron,” said Phuong, giving him an encouraging smile.
It wasn’t hard to sense the excitement in the air. Mason knew almost everyone was hoping they’d find larger settlements—miraculously huge numbers of humanity still left in the world. They were hoping their friends and family might still be alive.
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Mason felt it was better to be hard enough to survive hopelessness without giving up, than to cling to some desperate chance. He felt as their leader he should say so, that he should help them, but he wasn’t sure how. And maybe that wasn’t his place.
“I’m going to be careful with whoever we meet through this stone,” he called. “I know you’re hoping…we’re all hoping for the best. But we’re not at the end of this. We’re at the beginning.”
It wasn’t enough or the right words, but Mason didn’t know how else to say it. Did he tell them he expected more violence? That he didn’t see more people as an opportunity but as a threat to their existence? He didn’t even know how to square it all in his own mind or conscience. How could he be afraid of the same people he wanted to save? Wanted to punish their alien overlord for murdering and experimenting on?
He sighed, feeling entirely inadequate for the situation at hand. Fucking Blake, he thought, remembering his brother telling him he was afraid. He was right, despite being a selfish asshole. Mason was afraid of what was next. That he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
“OK,” he said. “Speech over. Let’s do this thing.”
People smiled or nodded to him as he walked by, and he was glad they seemed to understand, or at least trust him.
"We are here if you need us," Naya told him. "I can't say I…understand exactly, what's happening. This place. Everything. But it seems important and...you are my husband and lord. Please just ask if we can be of any assistance."
"Thank you, Naya." Mason put a hand over his bride's, wincing as he saw his own, comparatively giant, tattooed fist. Then he walked on and found half his players at the communication beacon.
"It's sort of spinning up. We think." Carl shrugged and gestured at the conference room. "At least the map has a bit of power. And it's making a tiny hum. Can you hear it? We're pretty sure it's humming."
Mason listened and shook his head. "I think you're imagining things. What time is it?"
Carl looked at Alex with a kind of 'I told you so', then took Sylvie's wrist (which apparently had an actual watch).
"Two minutes, kid. Need a pep talk or anything?"
Mason raised an eyebrow.
"Do you have a two minute pep talk to help me speak to the rest of humanity?"
Carl glanced at Phuong and Sylvie and shrugged.
"Nope."
Mason sat and took a deep breath as he stared at the 'screen' across.
"Oh shit.” He felt Streak’s immediate impatience as he flopped down beside the chair. “Does someone have a bone? I wanted Streak here but...not running around like a lunatic. Just sort of..." the wolf's indignation hit him and he grabbed it by the neck to pull it over, "Yes, you’ll get bored and run off. No I don't trust you. No I don't care. No."
Mason glanced at the staring players and civilians staring from the doorways.
"I'm not crazy. He talks."
"Didn't say a word, boss," Seamus called.
It was a bad moment for some kind of pulse from the great tree intruding on Mason's mind. He winced and tried to block out the feelings of curiosity, of confusion, and maybe slight indigestion.
"Alright, maybe I am crazy," Mason muttered, wondering if maybe Cerebus or Gaia or hell maybe Blake would like to try rooting around in his head next. He supposed he could shut everything out with Apex Predator but what the hell was the point.
Thinking of his brother was a mistake. He felt another flush of anger that he wasn't here right beside him to do the talking, to help handle this. The son of a bitch.
"Perfect. Keep your face like that." Haley had apparently arrived and was fussing with his short hair. "Put your helmet back on. It really pulls the thing together."
"You know I really am a murderous, shapeshifting killer," he said, a bit harsher than intended. "This isn't a costume."
Haley gave his forehead a kiss.
"I'll be right over there. We all will."
Mason growled a little. Then he was forced to thank Rosa as she appeared magically with Streak's bucket of bones.
"Good luck," she whispered, bending over the table to reach Streak, giving Mason far more cleavage than required. She grinned and swayed her way back to the door, and Mason cleared his throat and waited.
It was literally worse than waiting to fight to the death. At least with violence he understood the situation. He knew life was about to simplify, to slow down and crystallize into a series of jagged points. With this...he had no idea. He supposed he should have considered what he was going to say more than about a minute before he needed to say it.
But then it depended on what the hell happened with the beacon. Was it going to be some kind of world-wide message? Or was he going to just call up some random settlement? He didn't even know if the 'video' would work. It might literally just be some kind of phone call.
“Oh wait,” said Carl, glancing at the others. “Isn’t he going to have to…style himself something? You know, Lord Mason? Baron Nimitz? I mean we can pretty much call him anything we…”
“I’m not making up any bullshit titles,” Mason interrupted, feeling himself sweat and getting annoyed at being annoyed. “Fucking kings and all that horseshit. They’ll see all my system titles. Isn’t that what it said? Good enough.”
Mason saw Haley mouth something like ‘he’ll be fine’ at Carl, and he did his best not to look at any more of his people.
The last few seconds ticked by. His damn heart kept on racing and it was all so ridiculous. An immortal, monster-slaying killer afraid of a video screen. God damnit.
Exactly at the time Haley had said, the whole beacon blazed with power. The 'map' readjusted, showing two continents clearly, the rest of the world blurred in a kind of grey.
The lights on the map started moving, floating like fireflies until they slowed and stopped in what appeared to be their actual locations. Mason saw Nassau right where it made sense to be, the light quite large and colored a deep green instead of the usual white.
There was a dozen other settlements on the continent, he saw, most quite far to the south where neither he nor Kiaan had gone. One even looked decently sized.
Then Mason's eyes moved east. For a moment he didn't understand what he was looking at. It was too busy, too clustered. A variety of obvious settlements seemed to ring a central mass, with so many dots all huddled together it didn't seem possible.
"What the hell is that?" Mason said, pointing. Carl and Phuong were both squinting with similar shrugs, but when Mason met Haley's eyes she looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"It's...hundreds of settlements, Mason," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "They must have moved them. Made them into some kind of…city. There's several hundred, I think."
Mason found he had no idea what to say. Several hundred settlements? The entire western continent had maybe twelve. For a long moment he just stared, hoping his brain would catch up and tell him what this meant, and what to do.
Then the central ring of settlements in the east lit with a kind of pulsing red light. Haley put a finger to her ear like she was hearing something no one else could.
"They're calling, patron," she said, sounding formal now. "There's a voice asking for you. Says he's a servant to..." she paused, and met Mason's eyes, "to the emperor of the world."
The title immediately calmed Mason’s pulse. He took a deep breath, feeling more relaxed than he had since entering the beacon. He began to understand the strange feeling that had made him nervous.
Just like the civilians outside, for a minute Mason had allowed himself to believe that maybe the new world would be different. That in the aftermath of cataclysm, humanity might be free from some ambitious bastard who proclaimed himself lord of everything. Men like Blake, fundamentally. Just far, far worse.
As calm returned, Mason nodded to Haley, signaling he was ready. And he was. Because in a strange way he comprehended this game more than he had a few moments ago. The constant reference to ‘duality’. The two gods of his affinity. Order and chaos. Weight and counter-weight.
Men who styled themselves emperors would always exist. Whether petty or greater tyrants, those who thought themselves the wisest, the most just, the most capable, who could say whatever they liked but always ended stealing toy bears from terrified little boys. Or lording over a miserable town in the apocalypse.
Mason was no longer afraid, no longer confused, because he was reminded who he was: The stubborn bastard who said no. Who didn’t like being told what to do. Who found bullies and tyrants and just couldn’t help himself. He was the man who stood in the way.