Sara stood back, hands on her hips, and admired the makeshift patio hangout she had constructed while Chadwick was out clearing the road.
She had arranged their four heavy-duty Kong camping chairs and two scavenged plastic chairs from Pho King in a wide circle around a fire pit she had built using stones hauled from the caves, currently burning brightly with dry tinder she had gathered from the gray forest. The large concrete pad was originally poured as part of a strip-mall expansion on the side of the building that had never happened. It was perfect. It offered a sweeping, unobstructed view of the bleak Nihilistic skyline.
She placed her steaming cup of instant ramen—scavenged from the break room and cooked in a pot over the open fire—on a small side table she’d placed next to her chair. She ran back into the store, grabbed her clipboard off the front counter, and finally returned to take her seat.
She took a deep breath and physically let go. Her body felt like she hadn’t stopped moving since she fell through the portal. She looked up at the gray canopy and just… didn’t care for a few precious, beautiful seconds. It would be nice to have a skylight to let the sun in.
Then, reality returned.
A covered wooden wagon crested the distant hill. It wasn’t moving terribly fast, and from this distance, she couldn't make out the details, but she could see two very large riders on the front bench.
Sara sighed heavily. She grabbed her cup of ramen as she stood up, using the wooden chopsticks to shovel a few quick, hot bites into her mouth before reluctantly putting the cup back down on the table. She moved to the corner of the building to try to get a better look at the approaching cart.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Orcs. But they were wearing... tuxedos?
Sara wiped her eyes and looked again. Yep. Orcs in very tight, impeccably tailored, backless tuxedos.
She cocked her head. What exactly was she supposed to do here? There wasn’t a management protocol for this. The Orcs casually continued down the hill, and Sara couldn’t help but notice just how aggressively dapper they were. And ripped. My god, they were ripped.
At the bottom of the hill, the driver turned the cart into the vast parking lot, pulling the carriage over to the far end near Cody's newly purchased fleet of wagons, and dismounted smoothly.
They didn’t look overtly threatening as they walked to the back of the wagon. The canvas flaps parted, and two more tuxedo-clad Orcs stepped out. Together, all four of them hoisted two massive, bulging burlap shopping bags each. The bags were overflowing with—was that pot? Sara stood at the shattered front doors of the vape shop as they approached. They set the massive bags down on the asphalt in perfect unison and bowed deeply.
The first Orc, a markedly older but no less phenomenally fit specimen, stepped forward. “I am Sir Cumference. We have been tasked with being your shop security. I assume you’re Sara?”
Sara’s brain lagged. Sir Cumference? Circumference? Like the math term?
“Yes.” he flashed a devilishly handsome, tusked smile and pointed to the others in succession. “This is Sir Cumstance, Sir Kitsitty, and Sir Osus. We are here to serve.”
Circumstance. Circuit City. Cirrhosis. Sara mentally catalogued the horrific, undeniable Mark-puns, but chose to completely ignore them because the smell emanating from the burlap was heavenly. “Is that… a shit ton of weed?” she asked, salivating slightly at the skunky funk on the cold air.
“Eight hundred pounds of the Halfling Leaf,” Sir Osus clarified in a deep, booming baritone. “I weighed it myself. Would you like me to get you some samples after we take a tour of the perimeter?”
Sara was giddy. Hot Orc bodyguards delivering weed. Eight. Hundred. Fucking. Pounds. “Umm… yeah. Definitely. But…” Her manager instincts kicked in. This seemed way too good to be true. “Wait. How?”
“Mr. Marcdonavis sends his warmest regards,” Sir Cumstance said, effortlessly picking his massive bags back up. “Cody and Simone should be here soon. Where should we put these?”
Sara shook herself free of the daze. “Uhh, this way.” She led them through the shattered glass doors and into the back hallway. “Put one here in the break room. Put the others over here in the office in the corner under Mark's desk. I’ll figure out where to store them properly and securely later.”
The Orcs completed the heavy lifting efficiently and quietly, lining up at attention behind her as she led them back into the main shop and out to the parking lot.
“Umm, feel free to look around and familiarize yourselves with the grounds,” Sara instructed. “The beds next door are not all finished yet. We’re kind of sharing when there’s more than three of us here, which looks like it's going to be always now.”
“Thank you,” Sir Cumference nodded politely. “We will do a full sweep and update our defense protocols with you later this evening.”
Sara watched the incredibly handsome muscle disperse across the property, and she thought of another massive logistical hurdle she might have to add to her clipboard. “Wait! Do I have to pay you guys?”
“There’s no need,” Sir Cumference responded over his broad shoulder. “Mr. Marcdonavis pays our retainer. However, hiring more of our specific order will require payment, but it should be a long time before you need to do that.”
She let out a heavy sigh of relief as the Butlerguards combed the grounds, meeting at key choke points to discuss what she assumed were tactical security concerns.
Her ramen called to her.
She walked back to the patio and plopped heavily back down into her chair. She grabbed her cup of noodles and brought them up to her nose to smell. They weren't hot anymore, but still warm. Oishii, she thought.
Just as she raised her chopsticks to place the first real bite in her mouth, a loud commotion broke out. Deep, guttural shouting echoed from the front of the parking lot.
Sara groaned, once again putting her noodles down on the table. She dashed around the side of the building and out front to see that Chadwick had finally returned from his run. All four Orc Butlerguards had him completely surrounded, their stances wide and unafraid.
Shit. Just my luck. She dashed down the asphalt. “Hey, hey! Stand down! That’s Chadwick. He’s with us. He’s okay.”
The Orcs still seemed highly agitated. Sir Kitsitty turned to face her, his massive hands balled into fists. “But Sara, a Minotaur is a high-threat security concern. Minotaurs are, by their very nature, chaotic evil.”
“I’m not evil, bro!” Chadwick protested, holding up five steaming Pizza Hut boxes like a peace offering. “I just went to get the crew dinner! You can have some too!”
Sara took a deep breath. Time to roll Persuasion. “I said, let my friend go.” Her tone was absolute ice, brooking no compromise. It was the voice that made terrible Earth customers ask for the corporate number.
The Orcs passed quick glances, conferring silently with each other for a second, before visibly relaxing their combat stances. “We’re sorry, ma'am.”
“It’s all good, bro,” Chadwick said, strolling past the massive guards completely unfazed. “Thanks, boss-bro. Whoa. That’s kickin'. Did you put that patio together like that?”
Oh shit. My ramen. “Yeah,” Sara said, following him back around the building. “I thought it would be a nice place to hang, at least until more real customers start coming. Wanna join me? I’m just about to eat my ramen. And now, I guess we've got some weed.”
“Hell yeah, boss-bro,” Chadwick said as he set the pizzas down on one of the plastic Pho King chairs. “Let me go get a table for these. Want a plate?”
“Nah,” Sara said, sitting back down. “But people should start coming back soon if you want to bring a couple extra.”
Chadwick walked into the abandoned Pho King restaurant to scavenge while she settled in and picked her ramen cup back up. She gave it a stir.
It was cold.
Just the way she liked it, because it’s the only way she ever got to eat it anymore, she sighed internally, finally taking a bite.
“Boss-bro,” Chadwick said, returning and setting a small metal table down beside the fire pit. He moved the pizzas and a stack of paper plates onto it. “What’s on the agenda today?”
Sara stopped, a mouthful of cold noodles frozen in her mouth. The texture was wrong now. Squishier, almost mush.
Agenda? She’d just taken over leadership a few hours ago, and he already saw her as business-first. She chewed quickly, swallowed the mush, dropped the noodles back into the cup, put them down permanently, and walked over to the table.
She placed a hand on the top cardboard box, catching a glimpse of Sir Cumstance’s heavily muscled back in his backless tuxedo shirt as he patrolled near the tree line. She forced her eyes back to the food. “You got anything with lots of meat?”
“Of course, bro,” Chadwick smiled proudly. “Got the Meat Lover's... minus the beef on top.”
Sara narrowed her eyes, confused for a split second, before the biology clicked in her brain. He’s a Minotaur. Half-bovine. Of course he held the beef. She nodded quietly, appreciating the grim logic, and moved on. “Sweet. You want a slice?” She opened the box and extended it toward him.
Chadwick threw up his massive, furry hands defensively, backing away from the pizza. “No, bro. I’m vegan.”
Sara froze, a pepperoni slice halfway to her mouth. “Wait. You’re vegan?”
“Yeah, bro.” He frowned, his large ears pinning back slightly. “You think just because I’m a Minotaur, I can’t be vegan?”
Sara stood there for a moment, the pizza hovering. It wasn’t a moment of what the fuck; it was a moment of genuine reflection.
“I honestly didn’t think at all,” Sara said softly. “I’m sorry. Full stop. At home, I just get so caught up in the… I don't know, the expected. People being vegan is actively mocked for some reason where I'm from. I never really understood it. So, it's just like, if someone says that where I’m from, my brain is kind of programmed to automatically react with wuuut. I’m sorry, Chadwick.”
Chadwick’s defensive posture softened immediately. “It’s okay, bro. I’m sorry, too. You probably know that my people don’t usually do well around humans, so it's hard. You’re my friend. Of course you were just curious. Yes. I am a vegan. I don’t have some big, mystical reason for it. I just like it, and it makes my body work better for cardio.”
Sara considered the massive, shredded, vegan Minotaur. “Ok. Awesome. Now, let’s get to the agenda.”
Chadwick nodded happily and collapsed down into one of the Kong camping chairs.
Sara held her breath. The chairs were rated to hold a lot of weight, but a literal Minotaur?
The metal groaned. The heavy canvas stretched taut, screaming under the sudden, immense pressure. But by some absolute miracle of Earth engineering, the chair held.
Sara exhaled. “We really need more beds. With four new massive Orcs, we are running out of lumber fast, and we still don’t have more than just us building the frames. Hopefully, Raven and Mark can bring some of the Shafted back from Rocksylvania to help with the expansion labor.”
“I think that would be wise, bro.” Chadwick nodded.
Sara finally took a bite of the pizza. It tasted exactly like home, but with shockingly fresh, non-processed fantasy ingredients. It was incredible.
“And the sooner we build a physical toll booth on the bridge, the sooner we can start monetizing the traffic,” Sara planned aloud, chewing happily. “We are going to have a massive labor force to pay soon, and hopefully Jeffrey McNichol’s first billboard subscription payment will cover most of it… I think we can make it another month financially before we run dry.”
“Right on, bro,” Chadwick affirmed, leaning back slightly as the chair groaned again. “Now, all we can do is wait for the rest of them to come back home.” He chuckled. “And clean up this glass.”