"SORRY -- WHAT?!" ZAN SHOUTED, now wide awake.

  "Calm down! I'm sorry. Not killing, not likely, anyway. But they could be having an unfun side-effect in town. We owe it to this village to check it out. Several of the community have said the cables coming from our bunker is causing trouble, so we need to address this," Whiskey said, clarifying.

  Not wanting to argue the point when he felt immense relief at not, likely, having contributed to killing people, he still felt antsy. "Tell me these problems, then. What is going on?"

  "For one, a family which settled recently in the area, apparently to support their son as he gets training, here, has said the land they were given is, and I quote, 'rough and too coarse for planting,' which is endangering their ability to pay their share of the tax. So, there is that. Then, a man who lives near the river has said the wetlands are becoming too magic dense for the typical fish and is driving away or killing them. I doubt this is actually the case, I think this man is just hysterical, but we need to at least show him the how and why of why he is being wrong and hysterical," Whiskey explained, acting more like a secretary than a huntress.

  "But that's it? No one else in the village is out for our blood?" he asked, careful to learn the truth.

  "Blood? Gosh, Zan, no! No one is 'coming for us' or anything like that. The village has some concerns about the cables affecting the land. I think it's typical stuff we can expect as these bunkers come alive. So, we should stay on top of it as it develops."

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "Oh... I guess I had the wrong idea when you said our bunker was killing people--"

  "Please. I never said that. It was a turn-of-phrase. But that is all I really have to say. Once we get going on getting the bunker fully repaired and our land tilled, plowed, sowed, and the sort, we will address the village's concern. Unless you feel otherwise, that is," Whiskey said, ending her part.

  He thought it over but had nothing to say. "Okay. I'm tired. I need to get to bed. So, that all sounds great. Anything else? No. Goodnight," he said getting up and heading to his tent.

  He didn't know which of them, Jiehong or Whiskey, was to take first shift. But it wouldn't be he. Privilege of the grandmaster-in-training, eh?

  Sleep came as natural to he as the sun to the sky. He woke to find Whiskey shaking him gently. The watch rotated as it always did. Before long, and with one of them catching slightly less sleep than the rest, such as he had the day before, they all gathered to talk of the day going forward.

  "We have a room to clear out, right? I say we spend the day cleaning out that fae network. We should get to it before we have to supervise workers," he said, readying himself for what was sure to be an intense encounter with the fae yet again.

  Whiskey shook her head, agreeing vigorously. Jiehong made no counter. The 'motion' 'passed.' Cool. Onwards to risk their lives in the bunker!

  They walked back to their quitting position from the other day. Room thirty.

  "Ready, team?" he asked. "We haven't ever faced something like this 'fae network' before and the Screen Masters seem pretty freaked over it. So, let's have each other's backs, okay? Just as if we were fighting the automotrons."

  Echoing an affirmative chorus, everyone was on his wavelength when it came to having each other's backs. Which he knew as a given. His brother would not let him down, whatever their disagreements and adjustments, while Whiskey he knew would have anyone's back.

  "Then, let's end it. Secure that room and get our first repair made. On my lead -- actually! Wait. Jiehong, care to take point?"