As the days pass by, my employer buries himself so far into his plans. They do not inform me, as to what exactly they are doing. I am unsure as to why this is, but I do not pry. I asked my employer once, what made his so distraught, and he promptly flung a paper weight at my head. I have not made effort to ask now, when I enter his office three times a day to give him the updates of the girl.

Each day is different. There are moments when I will see my employer, and he will be bright and welcoming. There are other moments, where he will be angry, fuming, screaming at something or someone. The Outcasts have been growing very edgy, as well. I have noticed this. They seem to walk on eggshells, looking over their shoulders at every chance they get. They seem even edgier, when the girl requests to be brought out of her room, which surprisingly is not very often.

I had suspected that in due time, this girl would grow reckless and begin to 'act out' or even try to escape. She has done nothing of the sorts. It is quite confusing to me, because she seems to simply be accepting her fate, and trying to stay out of everyone's way. When I do take her from her room, she walks with her head down, focused on the floor. The Outcasts at first, were quite worried until Casdin rallied all of them for a meeting. Since then, they do not seem as concerned as they once were, but still keep their guards up. I do, however, sense a change recently. A shift in the energies of the people who inhabit this fort. They're expecting something, and I am not sure if I should be concerned with this.

One of the main things that has changed with this girl, I have began calling her by name now, Dez, is that she stopped telling me stories. After her second night here, she simply has stopped talking of her life, of our supposed encounters, of anything, really. When she does choose to speak, it is off-handed questions that often times I do not know the answers to. She asks of people like J.T and Anne Marie. Once in a while, she will ask of McGraw, Casdin, or Rococo. Sometimes I answer her, other times I cannot, because I do not know what to say. Each time I answer her, regardless of what it is, she nods her head and continues scribbling in a notebook.

That's another thing. One day she requested a notebook and a pencil. When I asked Casdin if this would be alright with him, he said he did not see the harm. Dez will sit, for hours, scribbling or writing, sometimes asking me questions. It makes the days quieter, but longer. I do enjoy the silence, because it gives me time to think of things that I like, but I also wish that once in a while she would share something with me. True or not, her tales of our 'encounters' keep me amused.

The other day, upon her request and my employer's permission, I took her on a walk around the fort. She claimed she had been here before, and that she knew the grounds fairly well, but wanted to see it all again. When I asked why, she simply told me that she wanted fresh air. Of course, if she had said something suspicious, I would be required to inform my employer. Those are my standing orders. He does not wish for her to plan anything, or to be able to find an escape. I wish to tell him that, this girl does not seem to wish to escape. On the day I took her around the fort, allowing her to enter rooms and glance them over, she walked close to me. If she had tried to run that day, she would be no more than a finger's brush away. She kept pace with mine, and kept her head down. I saw no harm in taking her down into the basement, and all the way up to the rooftops, and around the grounds. She had proved to me she would not attack, nor try to flee. Her mutt was even allowed to come.

When we returned to her room after she took a box of Sugar Bombs from the cafeteria, she simply sat down at her desk and began writing and scribbling. She is not allowed to have her own cigarettes, so rather, I provide them for her. I do not know why, but I have come to bring her a handful or less a day. When I go to inform my employer each morning, I request some. He does not ask who they are for, and I suspect he believes they are for me. I feel as if I am doing something wrong, by not outwardly telling him they are for Dez. Yet somehow, I find I am not compelled to tell him who they are for. The smile she gives me each morning when I return and she wakes, seeing the small pile of cigarettes on her desk, makes me feel odd and strange inside. I do not know how to describe it, and thinking of it annoys me. I simply ignore it, and here and there continue to do nice things for her. I am unsure as to why I feel driven to, but I do. Perhaps she is beginning to grow on me.

As of right now, I am on my way back from my employer's office. He has asked me if there have been any changes in Dez's behavior. I told him there was not, and he nodded. Tonight, though, was a very different meeting. Usually I simply go in, he asks some questions, and I am able to return to my duties. Tonight, he asked me of my training. He asked of my past, and he asked if I would be willing to help him in his cause. I answered that he is my employer and I will do as he commands. To this, he nodded, and said he would speak with me further about it as the week progressed. I was then dismissed.

Coming to the door of Dez's holding room, I open it. As usual, she is busily writing and scribbling in her notebook. The click of the door closing causes her to look up at me. Her dog, does the same. I nod, acknowledging her. With her pencil to her lips, she sighs, shaking her head.

"I've been here a while."

She states, and I nod.

"Two weeks, I presume."

"Hm. Yeah. Been too long."

"What do you mean?"

I begin to suspect she is up to something. Lately, Dez and I have come to a form of mutual understanding. She is allowed to say certain things that I know the meaning of, but do not necessarily have to report to my employer. I, will not tell my employer so long as she does not make my job any harder. We came to this agreement one night, after she awoke in a cold sweat from a dream. She had looked directly at me, into my eyes. It did not intimidate or frighten me, but rather…I am not sure. She told me that she was attacked, and I had saved her. Whatever she meant by telling me that, I do not know, but I felt a change that night. I can't describe the change through words, it is something unspoken between us.

"Just that it's been too long, and I'm getting lazy."

"Lazy with what?"

"Things I need to do. That's all."

Perhaps she is speaking of things she must return to outside of this fort. I wish to tell her that she should forget thinking she will ever be released, because my employer shows no signs of letting her free.

"Hey, I got something for you, Charon."

Something for me? Everything she has acquired here, the notebook, pencil, matches, have all been through me. I cannot imagine she has something else, or where she would get it from. Instead of asking, I watch. I watch as her hands reach up and behind her neck, fumbling with something I can't see. I hear a small 'click' and she removes a sort of necklace from her body. Wrapping it in her hands before I am able to get a closer look, I watch as she places it on the table.

"These are for you. You can have them back now."

Expressionless, I stare at her, not the necklace on the table. I have no use for such meaningless things. Like jewelry. It would simply get in the way. But…did she say I could have it back? If she did, it would mean she is implying that I would have given it to her. Impossible. Shaking my head in annoyance at her, I walk over, snatching the necklace up from the table.

"What is this?"

I growl at her, at my breaking point with her accusations that we have met. I could very well kill her with a few well-aimed hits, and it would be the end. Opening my palm, I quickly disperse that thought. I stare at the necklace that intertwines with my finger. My name, blood type, and serial number stare back at me, my reflection behind them, mocking me.

"How…did you get these?"

My voice cracks with anger. I have never felt the need for emotions such as this one. The most I ever remember feeling is great annoyance, actually. But this, this incites me. How could she possibly get her hands on something like this? I hadn't even noticed it was missing. I just assumed that…it has been there, as it has been all these years. Around my neck, where I have always kept it.

"You gave it to me."

She says, closing her notebook and not looking at me. In a flood of anger, I punch the top of her desk. She is startled by this, and jumps.

"Stop lying! Tell me the truth!"

Dez looks at me, her eyes big, but she shows no signs of fear.

"I did. You gave them to me. You said you wanted them back when I was leaving Tenpenny Tower to see Three Dog. It was to make sure I came back to you. Not my fault you can't remember because you're a dumbshit."

I can no longer restrain myself. For two weeks, I have put up with her insatiable attitude. I have had enough. Grabbing her upper arms, I lift her from her chair and shake her.

"Stop lying to me!"

I hiss, shaking her as one would shake a rattle. My hands grip her arms tightly, I am sure they will leave marks. It does not matter to me. I am so enraged and infuriated by her. How dare she take something so…so valuable to me? It is the only possession I have aside from my armor and gun, and the only one that is irreplaceable.

"I told you the truth!"

She tells me through gritted teeth when I cease my shaking. Her answer only enrages me more, and I shake her again, tossing her against the wall as my hands slide from her arms. I feel no remorse, as she hits the wall, her head connecting with it, and as she slides down it slowly, her body laying in a pile on the floor. I feel nothing, nothing but sheer anger and rage as I feel my precious dog-tags around my fingers. At first, I believe she is dead. Her body does not move, and I find I do not care if she is alive or not. I am just glad to be rid of her constant presence.

Glancing down, I look at my dog-tags. They are still as new as the day I had received them. A badge of honor, as I have always seen them. They permitted me to leave the grounds, the group, leave my trainers that I grew to hate and distrust. Although most of my employers have not been much better, I felt grateful to be given these and my contract, and to be sent away. I was away from the people who had caused me such pain, when I would not accomplish a task. Away from the people who had beat me, tortured me, saved my life only to put me near death once again. My employers, they could do me no harm. When I failed, they could scold me and give me a feeling of shame and guilt, but that is nothing compared to the tortures my trainers gave me. Nothing. If my employer dared lay a hand on me, they were quickly taken care of. This new contract may not hold the same rules, but it is not a concern for me. My employer does not seem like the type to cause me harm.

But when I was given these dog tags, I was free. They were my ticket, to shackled freedom from the constraints of the training grounds where I grew up. Although now they serve as mere sentimental trinkets, I still wish to keep them as close to me as I possibly can. Knowing this girl has somehow taken them from me…I cannot even stand the thought of it.

Oh, the girl. Dez. I glance over at her, her body still limp. For a moment, just a passing moment, I feel a bit worried she may be seriously injured. Before I walk over to her, I place the dog-tags around my neck once more. I tuck them beneath the shirt I wear under my armor. I must know they are safe, before I touch this wretched woman.

"Get up."

I say, still angry from just minutes ago. Grabbing her by the back of her neck, I forcefully lift her to the air. I am strong, lifting her is like lifting a sack of flour. I hold her in front of me, her body limp in the air. If she is dead, it might anger my employer. The thought that she has caused me more trouble than she is worth, makes me want to shake her once more, but I hold back. Rather, I prop her against myself, as I sit down on the cold floor. Once I do so, I examine her features, her limp body in my arms.

Blood gently seeps and dries from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes are closed, her heart is beating and she is breathing. Feeling the back of her head, my fingers graze a becoming bump. She is merely unconscious.

"Wake up."

I grumble, lightly tapping her cheeks. Beneath her eyelids, her eyes roll around. She is coming to. I continue to pat her face, until she opens her eyes. They roll around in her head, similar to what a newborn does when they open their eyes. Constant movement with no ability to focus. I grumble at her, a guttural growl escaping my throat. She moans in response, as my fingers press the bump on her head.

"…Ahhgg…"

She makes a strange noise. I move my hand from her head, and it falls back. She's not conscious enough to support her own weight.

"Charon…"

The way she says my name is slurred, as her tongue and mouth and lips move in an unappealing way.

"What?"

I snarl at her, displeased that she has not yet regained herself.

"…Nar…N…Don't…nnn…leave...ughh…"

Don't leave? Is that what she is saying? Before I can figure what she means by this, her hand flies up and nearly smacks me in the face. In fact, it does, but not hard enough to hurt. Her eyes still roll, as she grips around. I have…never felt the touch of a human's hands against my ghoul skin. Her hand is…is soft…and warm. She finds my left cheek, her fingers begin to gently graze the skin that still remains.

"What are you doing?"

I demand, as her breathing becomes rapid, and her eyes roll back and around inside of her sockets. With her body resting in my arms, and her hand gently grazing my skin, I all of a sudden feel so…so protective of this female. My arms mechanically bring her closer to me, like a mother protecting a child. Inside of my chest, my heart races for unknown reasons. I begin to panic. I have…I have never panicked before.

"Hey, hey Dez, are you alright?"

I have called her by name. I have never done so, simply answering her questions. I do so now, for…for reasons unbeknownst to me.

"…ugh…"

She grumbles, and I gently stroke the hair from her face. Her skin, beneath my gloved and ruined hands, feels…feels nice.

"Can you move?"

My tone with her now is gentle. I speak softly, and I fear someone may come through that door. No one aside from me ever has, but that could change.

"You are fine."

I tell her, feeling rushed. Quickly, I stand with her in my arms, and look at the bed.

"Move it, dog."

I say, and the dog jumps from the bed. I place Dez on it, her hand slides from my face, but she continues to try and feel for me. To reach for me.

"Sh…Sh…Charon…"

She says, before her arms fall and she slips into a deep, comatose slumber. I check her pulse, her breathing, her heart. All is normal. I turn her head in her sleep, and she does not wake in pain. She has simply received a hard blow to the head, a concussion at the worse. I am sure in the morning, she will wake with a bad headache and nothing more. For now, I need to do something.

I have never done this before. Never, have I ever even thought of it. But now, I find myself, pacing down the hall, towards my employer's office. I must speak with him. I must. I have to know what caused those protective and sympathetic feelings towards that girl. For some reason, I feel he has the answer. I feel he knows something of this girl, that he is not telling me. I have killed many people, mercilessly, for my entire life. Men, women, children, it is all the same to me. I was not trained to take pity, not trained to sympathize with those I caused harm to. But with that girl, with her, I felt it. I felt anger at myself, I felt sad she was hurt, and I felt so protective of her. I feared someone would walk in, and catch me. As if I was committing a sin that Lucifer himself would cringe at.

I do not hesitate opening my employer's door. I am running on sheer adrenaline now, sheer…

"Charon? What are you doing in here? Is something wrong?"

My employer says as I burst in the room. He is speaking with an Outcast, J.T, and they look at me.

"I must speak with you."

"Where is the girl?"

"In her room, sleeping. It is important and urgent."

Casdin nods, understanding. Thankfully, he sends out J.T and for that, I could not be more relieved. I do not wish to speak of something like this, in front of another.

"What is it?"

He asks, as J.T closes the door and walks away. My employer stands in front of me, worry on his face. He worries not about me, but about the situation. He believes something has gone wrong, gone rogue.

"I have some questions."

"Is that all? Charon you barge in here in the middle of the night for questions?"

"They pertain to the girl and are quite important."

My employer sighs in annoyance. He waves his hand at me, signaling me that it is alright to ask.

"The girl gave me something tonight. Something that she would only have been able to receive if I myself gave it to her."

"Oh?"

"We had a disagreement over this. I expressed my anger in her lying and saying she has met and encountered me before. Physical violence followed that. I harmed her, and when I did so and my anger dispersed, I felt…sir I felt compassion and sympathy for her. I wish to know why."

"Why what?"

"Why I felt this way. I wish to also know how she was able to get my possession."

Casdin sighs, shaking his head. He begins to pace, as if he is trying to figure out the correct wording for something. Impatiently, I wait. This girl, for two weeks, has been offhandedly referring to me. She has been speaking of me aloud in her sleep, tells me stories of our 'adventures' and now hands me my very own dog-tags. I will not lie, I have tried in the wee hours of the morning to remember and visualize these tales she has told me. But I cannot. I had thought that perhaps I received something, a hard knock to the brain, that caused me to forget. I know now that is a foolish assumption. Yet I can no longer simply go on thinking we have not met. The dog-tags prove something to me. I am not quite sure what yet, but they do.

"Charon, you are beginning to believe her lies. Her continues tales are beginning to brainwash you, I believe."

"Sir, she gave me a possession that was once mine. The only way she would have been able to take it from me, is if I had given it to her."

"Do you sleep when you're there?"

"For moments, yes."

"Do you not think this girl could have simply gotten up and taken this possession from you while you were sleeping?"

"I am afraid not, sir. I do not mean to disagree, but I would have awoken at the slightest sound. I always do."

My employer gets annoyed. He looks at me, with a mixture of emotions I cannot describe. I can tell, however, that he is not pleased with me.

"Charon, due to you insubordination, I hereby order—"

Before he can finish giving me his order, something stops him. Something, something stops me. Down the hall, the last door on the left, comes a blood curdling scream.

"Charon!"

It freezes me up, as it echoes down the hall. My employer looks at me, I can read the expression on his face. There is not time for him to argue, my body and my mind are no longer the same being. I find myself pulling the door from the hinges almost, as I rush to get out of his office. I collide with an Outcast, I do not know whom, as I exit. I do not stop, I go, as if I am driven by something unknown. The dark parts of my mind are pushing my body towards this, towards this girl who…who shouted my name in the dark of night. Who touched my face without cringing. Who I felt so protective of, just moments before. I do not know what pushes me to do this, I have never done such an act. Never blindly disobeyed an order, even though I was not able to hear it.

When I come to the room, the door is open. I had forgotten to lock it in my hurry. My body freezes up, at the sight in front of me. Rococo is atop a limp Dez. Her eyes, they roll as they did moments before, but they stop on me. Rococo is still clad in his armor, but his hands are wandering in places I am sure he is not allowed to go. When her eyes meet mine, I can not describe what happens. As if I am someone else, someone I do not know, I rush into the room.

Nothing stops me, there are no strings or constraints of my contract. My employer's opinion or consequences I may receive mean nothing, as I tear Rococo from her. As I raise my hand above his head, and bring it down as hard as I can, there is nothing stopping me. I have never felt this type of anger before. Never, felt this kind of protective feeling. As if I am a Yao Guai protecting their cub. Her face, the way she looked at me, reflects in my mind like a broken holotape, as I mercilessly hit Rococo

"Charon!"

My employer's voice echoes in my mind. I cease my actions, instantly, as if someone has come inside of my mind, and pulled the reins on it. I look at Rococo for the first time. I can not recognize him.