The mountain lion had exited the vast forest and now entered what seemed to be an endless field. Miles and miles of rolling hills full of white flowers. It was out in the open, exposed, but she was a predator, not prey. She knew to keep low, she knew how to prowl and she knew when and how to pounce.

Fields like this were an open invitation for prey to graze and grazing prey was a fresh meal.

Entering the fields, time started to feel different than in the forest. The sun felt like it was moving slower, thus time itself felt like it was dragging on for eternity. She wasn't sure if it was still morning, noon or early afternoon, all she knew was that she was hungry and getting hungrier by the second.

Yet, she found no food. Just flowers. Lots of flowers.

She was only starting to notice that there were now more flowers than she remembered. Like they just suddenly bloomed into existence. She was no herbivore though and paid no mind to them, even as the back of her mind was warning her of something.

Eventually she did find meat, but rotted. A dead body of a deer lied in the field, decomposing to the bone already. Even she couldn't eat that, but strangely . . . the butterflies could.

On the corpse were a bunch of white butterflies that seemed to be nurturing off the corpse. That was strange to her, as it was usually flies that laid claim to such rotted remains. And yet, not single fly in sight. Just butterflies . . . and freshly growing flowers sprouting from the inside of the corpse.

The puma decided to slowly move away, its instincts screaming at her that something was wrong. And then there was a light crunch under her back paw. She looked back and saw a crushed white flower.

The wind seemed to stop. Not even breeze pushed through her fur. Like the whole world had just suddenly froze.

And then a white blur passed by her eyes. A single white butterfly fluttered onto her nose. The two creatures of different kingdoms stared each other down for a moment. After a few seconds of just staring, the mountain lion tried shaking it off. When it refused to let go or fly away, she began swatting it.

It was an agile bug, dodging her claws like it was surfing on air. It kept flying back at her, into her face, irritating her. It just wouldn't stop!

Eventually, she was fast enough and crushed the bug between its paws and the ground. Removing the paws revealed its crumpled form, even one of its wings got ripped off.

Just when she felt she finally rid herself of that annoyance, two more took their buddy's place. They kept fluttering into her vision, blinding her with their white wings. She continued swatting, killing one, then two, but then those were replaced by four. Then eight, then sixteen, then twenty-four and so on.

So many butterflies were swarming her like the murder of crows from the forest, but instead of ripping off her flesh with claws and beaks, the insects were trying to discombobulate her. The more she killed the more the seemingly endless swarm amassed and harassed her.

She tried running away but the swarm of butterflies followed her. They were like a tempest, flying through the sky and covering it all, focusing only on her. They were everywhere, nowhere to run, so she fought. She clawed and crushed and bite, but they just wouldn't stop their relentless onslaught.

They got into her eyes, so she couldn't see, they got into her ears, so she hear, they got into her nose, so she couldn't smell. One by one they were taking her senses, blinding her to everything. She roared with a piercing scream, trying to put fear into the bugs, but that was only an invitation.

She felt her mouth violated by several hundred fluttering critters. She could feel them crawling and flapping behind her throat, blocking her breath.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't scream.

She didn't even have the strength to bite.

All she could do was lie in the field as the strength slowly faded from her being.

America woke up in a cold sweat. She hyperventilated as her mind raced to wonder what the fuck that dream was.

Her mind and body finally clicked and she suddenly had the urge to vomit.

Holding it back as best she could, she ran from the cell she was staying in and burst through the back to the courtyard. She expelled the contents of her stomach for a good fifteen seconds. Leaning on the wall, her head slumped, she tried not focusing on the bad taste in her mouth and tried just calming down.

Slowly she eased her heart and controlled her breath. Once those were under control, she tried thinking tranquilly, relieving the anxiety built up in her mind.

"What the fuck was that dream?" She spat the bile taste out of her mouth, before pushing off the wall.

She shivered from the cool morning air on her clammy skin. Looking around she could see Grace training some of the fighters. They had built a makeshift obstacle course and gun range. The course had the typical monkeybars, wall climb and tire run, something you would see in a military boot camp, but smaller scale. The gun range had people taking apart and reassembling their weapons. They would repeat this over and over again until they got the OK from Grace to fire.

Grace herself was barking at them all to move faster, work harder and anything else you could expect from a Drill Sergeant. It was honestly surprising, as this is probably the loudest America has ever heard from the soft spoken sniper.

Grace would pause her training when their eyes locked and the bronze medalist approached her.

"What are you doing up so early?"

"Bad dreams." The Deputy answered.

Grace looked over and saw the mess she made by the wall. "Do you need to see Doc?"

America grimaced. Charles was a good guy, but unless she was in critical condition, she didn't trust him to patch her up properly. A lot of the people he had patched up didn't seem to be faring that well and for once it wasn't the cult. He didn't really seem to know how to patch up people, but he was all the Cougars had.

She would much rather go to the clinic in Holland Valley if she needed an actual checkup. Despite that, he was actually a great vet; as soon as he got back he immediately took care of Boomer, removing the buckshot and patching him up without issue. Even though he said there would be scarring, Boomer would make a complete recovery. She caught people saying that Boomer was the best patient to walk out of that operating room.

"I'll be fine, Grace. It's just a bad dream."

"I know about bad dreams, Deputy." She said in her 24/7 serious tone. "I get them all the time. So do a bunch of my friends from Afghanistan."

. . .

The deputy bit her tongue. She wasn't sure why, but she just didn't want to talk.

Grace just shook her head disappointedly. "You don't want to talk? Fine. Just keep your head on straight, Deputy, or I'll go over your head, understand?"

America nodded, then quickly changed the subject. "How's the training goin'?"

"Progressing. Not trying to turn these people into actual soldiers, so I'm going light on them."

She looked over a lot of exhausted and terrified faces. "Could have fooled me."

"Believe me, this is nothing compared to what actual boot camp is. If I went hardcore, a lot of these people would be puddles by now. These are civilians and I'm just trying to get them used to being afraid and under stress, because that's what's gonna fucking happen when the peggies attack."

America nodded wordlessly. She trusted Grace to know when to press the pedal and when to ease off. Grace was many things, but she was not unsympathetic.

The screeching of the door alerted them and they saw a fighter peek her head out. She looked straight at America once she saw her. "Deputy, the Sheriff is looking for you."

"Understood. I'll be there in a bit." She received a nod and left. "Duty calls."

"Ya sure you're alright?" Grace pushed one last time. "I can come with you if ya like?

"I'll be fine, Grace. We need you training these fellas. James and Sharky will be enough."

"That's what worries me."

America chuckled. Grace didn't make jokes often. Most of the time they were too blunt to be seen as a joke, but when she really tried it always got a laugh.

Leaving Grace to her work, America headed to the "war room."

Because it was still early morning, most of the Resistance was asleep in various cells. The Sheriff was waiting for her over near the map table. James and Sharky were standing around with him.

"Mornin' fellas. You wanted to see me, Sheriff?"

"Yeah, I did." His voice seemed filled with reluctance as he grunted out his next words. "Listen, Rook, normally I wouldn't waste your time on something like this, but . . ."

America was really surprised by how hesitant the Sheriff was. From what she heard about him he was a former rodeo man; a professional bronco rider. A guy like that knew how to make good, strong decisions without hesitation. Whatever he wanted to ask, must really concern him for him to be so anxious.

He finally worked up the spirit to ask, but with a heavy sigh of annoyance. "I need ya to go check on someone."

The Deputy shared a wary look between James and Sharky. That was it?

"Okay?"

He turned the map on the table around and pointed to a hilly spot up north, near the Marina and Raptor Peak. "There's an . . . old friend that lives up on the hill, named Wilhelmina Mable. Goes by Miss Mable."

A sudden choking of James' coffee spooked America and the others. When her senior managed to calm himself down he motioned for them to keep talking while he caught his breath.

"Should I know this lady and why is she a priority?" She asked.

The Sheriff walked over to the radio and turned it on. As soon as there was a click of the knob, the radio started spewing every profanity and insult in the book, and probably some unsanctioned ones that would not fly in this day and age. Suffice to say, Twitter would probably implode on itself trying to deal with this lady.

Whitehorse then shut the radio off and walked back. "Mable's been cussing up a storm all morning on the radio, demanding someone help her with her pet cougar, Peaches. She's butting in on every frequency until someone comes to help her. Even the peggies are getting sick of her mouth."

There was so much weird in that set of sentences, all America could do was just stare straight ahead blankly. It took James setting down his coffee and slowly backing away from them, to snap her out of her stupor. Her senior let out a nervous chuckle.

"Oh, I just remembered, Doc wanted me to go take his pet Angel project for a test run. I should really go do that, bye!"

Without even a waiting for a response from any of them, the Senior Deputy rushed out of the cell block Thankfully, that gave America enough time to process her thoughts.

First off, "The hell was that about?" She thumbed at the door James left through.

"James has had some . . . bad experiences with Wilhelmina. He usually stays far away from anything that involves her."

America just nodded. Seemed easier. Second off, "Who is this, Miss Mable?"

"She's a taxidermist; owns Peaches Taxidermy. She's also one of the nastiest women in Hope County. Rattlesnakes have less venom in their mouth than her. It's one of the reasons the cult hasn't messed with her. At least for the moment."

'A ray of sunshine, great.' She thought sarcastically.

"And, I'm sorry, but did you say she has a pet cougar?" She asked incredulously.

"That's right, Peaches. Mable's raised her since she was a kitten, kind of a celebrity. People come and pay to see her, drawing business to Mable." He kind of smirked. "Most people that meet Mable say they'd rather get in the cage with the cougar than stay in a room with her."

'Jesus.'

"And she wants me to . . .?"

"The cult came by and riled up Peaches trying to take her. Now she's out and Mable wants someone to catch her and bring her back."

'That sounds like an absolute pain, but . . .' She looked over at the radio. A woman like that didn't care if she was disrupting communications during a war and a woman like that certainly didn't take no for an answer.

"Well, I don't mind going, but why me? Why not send someone else?"

"Because I'm afraid that if I sent anyone else with less fortitude, they'd either kill her or come back traumatized."

"Oh." Was pretty much all the response she could give to that reply. "Alright, I can go. Shouldn't take me long to—"

The Sheriff raised his hand. "You're not going there alone, Jones. Peggies have been seen crawling all over that area. You need to bring at least one person to watch your back."

America was a little annoyed by this. She could handle this on her own, but ever since Faith snatched her up, not a single one of her friends and allies wanted her walking out of the prison without at least someone looking out for her. Honestly, even though they were never around, she expected Black Hood to just suddenly show up out of thin air to give her a hand. But none of the Cougars or her posse would ever accept that.

"Well, Grace is busy with training and James just flew the coop, and Boomer's still out . . . that just leaves . . ."

She didn't even turn her head to acknowledge the large grin on Sharky's face.

"Hell yeah, it's America and Sharky time, baby! Just Hope County's best deputy and best pyromaniac, taking ass and kicking names! I'll go get my flamethrower."

With that enthusiastic response, Sharky ran to the armorer to get his things. Meanwhile, America gave her boss a pitiable look.

"If it's any consolation, Deputy, he has proven useful in a fight."

America just sighed.

. . .

The drive up to Peaches Taxidermy was relatively quiet, well despite Sharky's incessant talking. He was telling her all about his crazy fire exploits that got him arrested over the years. They were a little interesting to the Deputy, but she was only half listening. Despite what she said to Grace, those strange dreams were starting to get to her. They were just so . . . vivid.

When she'd wake up from them, this sense of overwhelming fear came over her. She'd wake up in a cold sweat, panting like a dog, and feeling scared. She felt scared every day now because of the cult, she didn't want to have that same feeling going to sleep and waking.

The crackle of the radio drew her out of her thoughts. Sharky was messing with the radio trying to find a station.

"You know only cult music is on there, right?"

"Not really, there's actually some guy up in the mountains tryin' to spread actual good music."

He finally found the station and began rocking out to whatever song was playing. America immediately switched it off.

"Sorry, Sharky, but can we just drive in silence for a bit? I'm just not in the mood right now."

"You okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine."

"When people don't wanna listen to music even just for background noise, that usually means they're not fine."

"I'm fine, Sharky. Just . . . haven't slept well."

"Bad dreams?"

She looked at him with surprise. He got that so quick.

"How'd you know?"

"My cuz gets bad dreams from time to time too. One time he slept over he woke up screaming about yetis or somethin'."

America nearly ran off the road that admission was so out of left field. "I see."

"Yeah, he usually drinks to get rid of them. Maybe you should do the same." The pyro suggested.

"Thanks for the advice," she drawled, "but something tells me getting hammered wouldn't do me any good."

"True, my cousin does have a strong metabolism when it comes to alcohol."

America had no follow up to that. She felt it better to just end the conversation. Sharky though didn't pick up on this.

"What was your dream about?"

She was gonna ignore him, but the words just left her mouth all of a sudden. "It's . . . a weird dream. It's the same, but different every time. I'm a mountain lion—"

"Like the one we're going to go check on?"

"Yeah, exactly. Anyway, I'm the mountain lion or maybe I'm following the mountain lion and it—I—the dumb cat is hunting, but it's also being hunted by a bunch of creepy animals. A laughing coyote, a prowling wolf, malevolent crows, and this time, a swarm of bloodthirsty butterflies that try choking me—it—the mountain lion to death." . . . "And as I say that, that sounds stupid."

"Dreams are always stupid, Dep. Yours just sound normal weird compared to mine or my cousin's. Honestly it just sounds like the stress of current events goin' on around you are just manifesting themselves into animal-like personas."

America snapped her head towards Sharky. That didn't at all sound crazy like his usual dialogue.

"That's . . . quite insightful. Why animals though."

"Maybe it's your spirit animal . . . or something. Might just be your primal instincts trying to connect with you during this time of life-threatening stress and dissociative crisis of your religion, morals and beliefs."

. . . . . . .

"Or maybe you're just secretly a furry?" He asked with a subtle hopefulness in his tone.

America didn't catch that though as she burst into laughter. Sharky was startled by this, but joined in on the laughing too.

After about two minutes of laughter, America calmed down. "Thank you, Sharky. I needed that."

"No problem, Dep."

A quick glance at her rearview mirror showed some peggie trucks behind her. "We got company." She declared.

"Grenade launcher?" He asked eagerly.

She smirked. "Hit'em."

Sharky stuck half his body out the window and aimed "Shark Shooter" at the chasing vehicle. One shot blew up the truck, killing its passengers. Two more trucks continued the chase, but this time fired back. Sharky had to crawl back in before he was riddled with holes.

The trucks bulletproof windows clanked from the projectiles, but they wouldn't last forever.

"Hang tight!" America swerved the truck through a tight corner. The dirt road kicked up a cover of dust from the spinning tires. "Take the wheel."

Sharky did as she asked. Grabbing Judgement, she poked her head out and returned fire. She got the driver of the second truck after three shots. The truck lost control and crashed into a hillside. Only one left.

At least there was one left until two more trucks rolled by in front of them.

"Fucking great!"

"I got this!" Sharky yelled.

"No grenade launcher, they're too close!"

"Alright!" Instead of his launcher he pulled out his flame-covered shotgun. "Have a pump full of Dragon's Breath, peggie chumps!"

His shotgun blasted, lighting a truck on fire. America meanwhile grabbed one of the dynamites from her glovebox and slowly lit the wick. Once the spark reached a certain length, she dropped it onto the road. The explosion went off underneath the truck behind them, toppling it onto its side.

The truck Sharky lit on fire swerved away when the driver panicked, crashing into some railing. Now all that remained was the last one.

"Grenade?" Sharky asked.

"Hell yeah."

America slammed on the brakes, allowing the cult truck to get some distance before also screeching to a halt. Sharky took aim and fired. The projectile slammed against the glass and exploded into flames on the inside. Cultists screamed and piled out of the burning truck trying to put themselves out.

"Flame round. How original." She said cheekily.

"You know me." Sharky replied proudly.

When the cultists finally died, Sharky got back in and they drove on.

"Good job, Sharky."

"You were awesome too, Dep."

The Deputy smiled happily, glad that she had another person she could count on. As she drove, her mind floated to the zippo lighters that Red gave her. The ones he wanted her to give to the people she trusted the most.

Finally, they arrived at Peaches Taxidermy. They got out of the Blue Eagle and looked around. There was a surprising lack of peggies around, both living or dead. Honestly, the place looked very untouched, like Red's place. This Mable woman must have good business to own such a large spot of land, she even had two buildings, one looked like a home and one was apparently the main building of the Peaches Taxidermy business.

The two headed to the main building first and knocked on the door. "Wilhelmina Mable? Are ya there? It's—" The door opened and a double-barreled rifle was pointed into her face. America heard Sharky let out an 'eep' before she continued her sentence. "Deputy Jones, Sheriff Whitehorse sent us."

The sight of two bored barrels was removed and she finally saw Miss Mable. She was actually shorter than America, standing up to her chin. Her attire was a purple sweater and capri pants. Her black hair was greying and according to Sheriff the woman just made it to her seventies. She wasn't a fat woman, but she was slightly on the tubby side, which made her surly face sag even further into a dower visage. The look she was giving to America and Sharky explained why there were no peggies here. The woman's face looked like it knew no joy or warmth and her dark eyes held a hard look that made mountains look fluffy.

"It's about time you got here." And her voice was cracked and rough like she had smoked a pack a day since she was five. "I was beginning to think that lazy lardass of a sheriff was just going to keep ignoring me." She gave them each a look over. "I can see he couldn't even bother to spare me competent help, but you came all the way here so I might as well get your useless millennial butts to work."

Every word felt like a barbed slap to the face. No wonder the peggies were more concerned about the cougar than her. The cougar was probably more pleasant.

"So, you called us about your . . . cougar . . . running away?" This was weird.

They followed Mable to the enclosure around back. It had everything from a house for Peaches to live in, a tree to climb, toys to play with, and food to eat. Now looking closer, America could see signs of a struggle. No, a gory assault. Blood and torn bits of clothing were around the place, as well as a few empty shells.

Sharky tapped her shoulder and pointed her toward the slaughter hut where some peggies were piled near it. They were completely shredded and their throats were crushed by what looked like sharp teeth.

"Did Peaches do that?" America asked, unable to hide the awe in her voice.

"Yeah, she did." Mable answered with annoyance. "It was a pain dragging those smelly hippies over there. Those miserable shits tried raiding my place and ended up pissing off my Peaches. They ruined her peace, so now she's raced off for her revenge."

America bent down to look at the tracks. Spotting some bloody paw prints, she saw them head down the road. "Do you know where she went?"

"Probably down at the old campsite. Those Eden Project dipshits are using it as a base of some sorts for hunting. It smells like armpits and processed meats down there, so just follow the nasty stench of communism. Now if you're done standing around slackjawed moron, go get my kitty!"

The old broad then went back into her house.

"Wait! How are we supposed to get your big ass cat back here?" America called after.

Mable was in the doorway when she replied, "Use her special treats! She's just like that little Drubman whore down at the Marina—she'll follow you anywhere if you give her a treat." Then she slammed the door shut.

"I'm starting to see why James left when he did." Sharky commented.

America nodded and looked at the big bag of cat food labeled: chicken and fish.

"Here, Sharky." She handed him some gallon baggies and filled them up with some of the treats.

"Uh, maybe you should carry these, Dep. Afterall, you've killed your fair share of cougars."

"Only a couple when I was helping the hunters." She couldn't blame him for not wanting to carry the thing that would attract the big predator. Honestly, she hoped these would be enough to appease the feline, so it didn't try to snack on them instead. "Just relax, Sharky. We'll be fine. Just remember, don't run, cougars love a chase. If it comes at you, just throw the treats on the ground in front of it."

Suddenly, there were multiple gunshots off in the distance. In the direction they had to go to.

"And if the worse comes to worst?"

America pulled out Judgement. "Then Mable will have a new animal to stuff."

"Something tells me she'll do worse to us than the cougar could ever do."

America ignored the shiver down her back and started trekking "No arguments here."

The Deputy and Sharky followed the path pointed out by Mable, though truthfully, they just followed the sounds of gunfire and screaming.

A peggie came running towards them screaming and America shot him dead with Judgement before he got too close. Examining his body showed he was unarmed and he had a number of bleeding claw marks on his body.

America motioned for Sharky to keep moving, but to keep down since they were getting closer.

The gunfire momentarily stopped, but it kicked up again when a shrilling roar, akin to a woman's scream, resounded. The two found the campsite, but kept low among the shrubbery when they saw a bunch of alarmed peggies hysterically looking around, weapons waving all over the place looking for something.

"Keep your eyes peeled boys! That hellcat ain't leaving this mountain alive!"

Peaches kept screaming out a roar, frightening the cultists and making them shoot erratically in all directions. Jones and Sharky had to lie flat on the ground and hope they didn't get hit.

The peggies emptied their weapons and that's when something came rushing out of the bushes at high speeds. A claw cut into a peggies side and then a set of fangs pierced into a second cultist's shoulder. The peggie screamed in pain and terror as he was dragged into the foliage where his screams died in a bloody gurgling scream.

The unwounded peggie reloaded his weapon and started firing ragefully into the nothing.

"You damn demon! Give me back my brothers!"

His gun emptied again after less than a minute of firing. He started to reload again, but some falling leaves caught his attention. He looked up, saw the murderous gleam of a pair of mismatched eyes and couldn't even release a whimper before 140 pounds of mountain lion pounced on him from more than ten feet in the air.

America and Sharky watched in morbid amazement as their target ripped the peggie apart. Once she ripped out enough chunks of the cultist to make him look like a science class anatomy dummy, she turned to the crying, wounded peggie she cut, desperately reaching for his gun.

The cat slowly approached and bit his ankle with her knife-like teeth. Dragging him away from his weapon. She then jumped on him; a few bones cracked loudly under the pressure. She began to claw his exposed back, making him scream. She continued to flay his tattooed skin with her claws, treating him like scratchpost made of meat.

Peaches continued to toy with her prey like this until she grew bored and ended his life by biting into his neck.

All was quiet now. No more screaming, no more panicking, and no more squelching. The forest was quiet as Peaches licked herself clean of blood.

"That was so metal." Sharky said in a mix of horror and awe.

America covered his voice, but it was too late. Peaches heard them. America quickly stood up, trying to make herself look intimidating so the wild cat wouldn't outright attack. Peaches hissed at them and extended her legs ready to move in a flash. America knew if the puma booked it, they'd be dead.

So, she pulled out the treats, the sight of which calmed the beast down a bit.

"Hey, Peaches." The Deputy said calmly. "I'm a frie—Mable sent us. You see these? You want these?" She shook the bag.

The bloodlust in Peaches eyes somewhat faded, now replaced with mild caution, curiosity, and hunger. America noted that the feline's eyes had heterochromia, with one eye being brown and the other blue. That was rare.

'If it weren't for her size, she would look like a house cat that spotted her favorite toy.' She thought.

America opened the bag, allowing the smell to waft over to the cat, then grabbed one and tossed it half way between them.

Peaches hesitated for a moment, but then lunged at the treat. She scarfed it down slowly. From the looks of it, she was savoring the treat's taste.

'Mable must have spoiled this cat if she's taking her time with her food. It's . . . kinda cute.'

America grabbed another treat once Peaches was close to done with the first. "Here, Peaches." She tossed the next one onto the path.

Once she swallowed her first treat, she dashed for the next one, spooking Sharky letting out a girly yelp. America laughed at him as Peaches chowed down.

"Let's get you home, Peaches."

Getting her back was a lot easier than America thought it would. All she had to do was toss a treat to where she wanted her to go and the creature went there. Peaches stopped relishing the snacks when she realized the deputy was giving her so many and just devoured them to get to the next one.

America was about to throw another one, but then saw something red hovering over Peaches. "Peaches!" She tossed the treat into the brush. The cat darted for it, just narrowly avoiding the gunshot that splintered a tree.

Sharky and America hid behind some trees when more bullets fired on their position.

"Should have known you'd be here, Snake!" A peggie shouted at her. "Demons and Devils stick together like flies and shit!"

"Grenade Launcher time?" Sharky asked, pulling out his Shark Shooter.

"No, you could hurt Peaches or worse, start a fire."

"Man, so no Dragon's Breath?"

"No fire at all!" She hissed at the sulking pyromaniac.

America pulled out Judgment. Her machine gun would be better, but with Peaches prowling around, she could end up hitting the cat. She popped out of cover and fired some rounds. The peggies were well hidden, but she was sure she got someone when she heard a yell of pain. Sharky switched to his sidearm too since his shotgun wouldn't be very effective right now, also the spread of his buckshot could hit Peaches.

The two opposing forces exchanged bullets. Neither one was really getting anywhere with the other, until a blood curdling scream stopped the shooting. Peaches shrieked over that scream, which died down after a loud struggle.

"Kents! What happened?!"

"It was that damn cougar! It got Ken—AAAAAAHHH!"

Peaches tussled with the other peggie, dragging him into the tall grass and killing him.

"Riley!"

The peggies were now focusing their firepower on the cat. America and Sharky took this chance to advance and get closer to the enemy, though Peaches was doing a good job at thinning their numbers. By the time they got to a good spot, the puma had killed two more cultists.

The peggies were getting spooked now and started to act irrationally. They started moving from their hiding spots, allowing the two Resistance Fighters to gun them down. When the cult focused on them that's when Peaches struck.

'She recognizes when to strike.' America realized, impressed.

Peaches could recognize that when gunfire wasn't focused on her she could strike. She also acknowledged reloading and attacked when the peggies fiddled with their weapons to reload.

"She's as smart as Boomer." America smiled, popping out of cover to pop a cultist in the head.

"Fucking demons! Motherfucking murderous monsters! Joseph damn you to the bottomless, black pits of hell where you belong, you filthy, fucking heathens!"

The last peggie had gone mad from fear and anger and was shooting his rifle all over the place. It clicked empty, signaling Jones and Sharky to shoot. But Peaches beat them to it as she pounced on the man and bit into his throat.

The two watched as the cat viciously and slowly drained the life from the man.

"That is one mean, kitty." Sharky commented.

"She sure is. Guess that's what happens when you live with an old bat like Mable." Sharky snorted. America then looked around at the dead bodies. "Speaking of, more peggies must have shown up back at Mable's. Something tells me these guys were the hunting party.

"So, the fight ain't over?"

"Not by a long shot."

Peaches curiously watched them talk while she licked her bloodied chops. When the cat and deputy locked eyes there was a moment of understanding between them. A recognition of some sorts. An understanding between predators, that the fight wasn't over yet.

America led Peaches back to the house and sure enough peggies were crawling all over Peaches Taxidermy. They had Mable tied up and she was spewing profanities at them the likes of which you would only find in bootcamp. The Deputy wondered why they didn't just gag her, but the old woman bitting a peggie who tried hard enough to draw blood, answered that for her.

The two crouched behind some foliage and surprisingly, peaches joined them. The two looked at the cat cautiously, but ultimately did nothing.

"What's the plan, Dep?"

"They got a hostage, so we got to play this slow and cool. As much as I'm sure a lot of people wouldn't miss Mable, we have to save her."

"I mean, do we really HAVE to?" Sharky asked.

Peaches hissed at his remark.

"Yes, we do . . . though we'll have to kick ourselves later."

"So, we gotta be ninja stealthy? Aw man, I'm not the best at that."

America scanned the place through binoculars. She saw some movement through the windows.

"Here's the plan: you go to the buildings and empty them out. You're better in tight spaces; draw their attention and Peaches and I will free Mable and take them out from the other end."

"Alright . . . Peaches and You?"

America looked at him and then at the cougar. "Yeah. Me and her. Any questions?"

Sharky gave her an odd look, but shook his head.

"Then let's get to work."

She let Sharky go first. Keeping low, he maneuvered around the house and snuck through the back. It was about a minute later that gunfire went off. The peggies focused squarely on the house now and two others came out of the taxidermy.

America and Peaches took the long way around to avoid being spotted. While they moved, the peggies slowly investigated the house. One opened the door slowly and was blasted away by buckshot. The cultists fired on the house, riddling the place with holes.

When they halted their barrage, they waited to see if there would be any retaliation. The leader of the group ordered one of them to check it out. They moved slowly to the door, this time staying on the sides. When it looked clear they stepped in. That was their last step as Sharky popped up and lit the guy on fire with Dragon's Breath. The cultist ran out screaming and rolling trying to put himself out.

His buddies tried helping him, while the leader attempted to shoot Sharky. But Sharky fired through the window and hit the guy straight on with a slug round. Sharky hoorahed before he dropped back into cover when the peggies fired on him again.

America and Peaches managed to get Mable to safety. Instead of thanks though, she gave them a backhanded remark.

The deputy rolled her eyes and moved to save her partner. Peaches charged forward and tackled one of them from behind. She chewed on his head, shocking the cultists, but before they could turn their weapons on the hellcat, America approached one from behind and snapped their neck. She then drew her sidearm and fired four bullets into four heads in quick succession. Peaches looked up from her kill and locked eyes with America again. Once more, there was some kind of predatorial understanding between them. An acknowledgment that only equals could fathom.

"It all clear, Deputy?!" Sharky called out.

Peaches started licking the blood off her paws, so America answered. "Yeah, Sharky, it's clear."

Sharky walked out of the house and did a little victory holler over their work. They moved Peaches to her enclosure, giving her the rest of the treats and breathed a sigh of relief.

They went over to Mable who was fuming over all the damage.

"Look at this mess! You idiots turned my house into fucking swiss cheese!" She yelled.

"I'm sorry ma'am, we were just trying—"

"Do I look like I care what you were trying to do?! I thought you were a little dim in the headlights and it looks like you proved me right! As useless and stupid as that fat oaf of a sheriff."

America scowled. "I'm sorry about your home, ma'am, but we were more concerned about saving your life at the time and making sure Peaches didn't get killed in the process."

"All this trouble for one spoiled cat! Well, you know what? You can have her!"

"What?!"

"I'm tired of taking care of her every need for food water and attention. She's your problem now!"

With that said, she stomped off to the main building.

"Wait a minute! We can't take care of a mountain lion! We're in the middle of a war what are we supposed to—"

Bam! She slammed the door in her face. Literally, the door gave the Deputy a hard tap to the face.

"Fuck!"

"So, what are we gonna do?" Sharky asked.

"I don't fucking know!" America yelled exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of her nose to relieve the stress coursing through her.

They both heard the sound of munching and turned around to see Peaches had escaped her enclosure already and was now feeding on a dead peggie.

"Well, that's not disturbing." Sharky said, watching morbidly as Peaches feasted on a human corpse.

'She's already developed a taste for human. We can't leave her alone she might escape and hurt someone. I might have to . . .'

America instinctually pulled out Judgement and gave the gleaming gun a look. Her eyes shifted between her favored weapon to the cougar. She honestly didn't want to do this, but what other choice was there? Mable wouldn't take care of her anymore, which meant that Peaches would go out to hunt for humans. They wouldn't always be peggies, the big cat might attack anyone, innocent people or Resistance fighters.

Just before she raised Judgment, Peaches finished her meal and moved silently over to America. Both Sharky and the Deputy flinched, but relaxed when they saw the mountain lion purr and rub her head against America's hand.

The Deputy, surprised, stroked the cat's head, feeling how soft and smooth her fur was. She looked at Peaches mismatched eyes and remembered the intelligence behind them. The intelligence she saw when they fought the cult together.

It reminded her of Boomer in a way, but more savage.

'As long as I keep that savage intelligence focused on the peggies . . .'

"We'll take her with us."

"Alri—wait, WHAT?!"

"We'll take her with us." America repeated.

"Uh, Dep, I'm not so sure about this." He said nervously.

"Relax, Sharky, I'll take responsibility for her. You don't have to worry about shit."

"Not worry about the big bad kitty cat not clawing and eating me while I sleep? Yeah, okay. I hope you don't mind if I sleep in the car from now on."

America ignored Sharky's complaints and rounded up Peaches things from her food to her toys. They put them in the back of the truck, then got Peaches in. She made herself comfy in the back while they drove back to the prison. It was really quiet the whole way back. America smirked seeing Sharky tense and sweating nervously as he peered at the mirror many times to watch the cougar. She, on the other hand, trusted Peaches was tame enough and liked her enough to not attack them while they drive.

Sharky wanted the silence to end, so he tried turning on some music. Peaches hissed when the radio was on the cult station, spooking Sharky, but relaxed when "Prowl" by Dan Auerbach played. Sharky left it on that station the rest of the way back.

Eventually, they returned. The gates opened wide for them to pass through after giving the passphrase. After parking the truck, the two got out and were greeted by the Sheriff, Vergil, and Tracey.

"Jones, good to see you back. Did everything go alright with Mable and Peaches?" Whitehorse asked.

"Umm." She looked at Sharky, who shrugged, then looked back at her boss. "Did she contact you?"

"Only briefly. She wasn't happy, but that's nothing new for her. She just called to yell at me, saying "You and your rentacops are two-bit salt-lickers that don't know their heads from their asses." Then ended it with, "She's your problem now." I wasn't really sure what that meant though."

"But she stopped spewing profanity over the waves, so you must have succeeded." Vergil added.

"I did . . . just not in the way any of us were expecting."

"What do you mean?"

America opened the door and Peaches hopped out, scaring the ever-loving shit out of everyone watching.

"What the fuck, Deputy!" Tracey shouted, pointing her weapon, along with ten other people following suit. Peaches hissed, but America got between them.

"Everyone calm the fuck down! It's alright, Peaches is no threat to you."

"Deputy, it's a cougar!" Vergil stated. "A wild animal!"

"I want everyone to know, that none of this was my idea!" Sharky threw out to cover his ass, but no one cared.

"Ya mind explainin' Rook why you brought Peaches back here instead of back to Mable's?" Whitehorse questioned.

"Well, long story short, it was all the Peggie's fault and Mable didn't want her anymore."

"That's it?"

"That didn't mean you had to take the damn cougar, Deputy." Tracey tensed.

"Look, I know this is crazy, believe me, I can see it. But Peaches here is really good at killing peggies."

"I gotta vouch for that. Kittycat here don't like peggies very much." Sharky promised.

"Like your word means much, Sharky." Vergil spat.

"She takes orders as well as Boomer does." America defended. "I figured I can bring Peaches along during missions." They all looked at her with pure disbelief. "I swear, I'll take care of her, Sir."

"Jesus, Rook, she ain't a house cat, she's a wild animal." Whitehorse argued.

"I know! But you should have seen her, Sheriff. She's real good in a fight. Fast, silent, lethal, she scared the ever lovin' shit out of the cult. Plus, she only has a taste for them, so that solves the feeding problem."

America scratched Peaches scalp which elicited a pleasurable purr, followed by a rubbing of her whole body against her new owner's leg. Everyone was shocked to see America tame her so well, but they still looked very apprehensive.

"That's not a ringing endorsement, Rook." Whitehorse groaned.

"Sheriff, please. I don't want to kill her, but if she does something that warrants it . . . I'll take responsibility."

Sheriff looked into the Deputy's eyes for a moment, then sighed when he saw how adamant she was. "Fine."

"Whitehorse?!" Vergil shrilled.

"Sheriff?!" Tracey screeched.

"If Rook thinks Peaches can be useful to us, then I trust her judgement. She hasn't been wrong yet and she's gone above and beyond for the rest of us, doing absolutely insane things to stop the peggies. So, she deserves the chance to try.

"Thank you, Sheriff!"

"But she stays outside."

A dejected look came over her. "Oh. I figured she could stay in my bunk. I don't know—"

"Don't push your luck, Jones. You're lucky I'm even letting you keep that thing." Whitehorse warned.

"Can I bring her inside sometimes?"

He sighed harder. This was like dealing with a child that found a stray. "Fine! But I repeat she stays out here."

"Open the gates!" The guards declared, unintentionally ending the dispute and gathering the crowd's attention. It was the Cult Buster that came rolling through.

"Looks like James came back from his mission too." Whitehorse acknowledged, so he and the others went to greet him.

James got out of his car. He looked disheveled and down. "Hey everyone." He greeted miserably.

"What's wro—UGH, what is that smell?!" The Sheriff recoiled away from his deputy.

Everyone was confused until they sniffed the air and a rotten stench took over their senses. They all began to wretch and cover their nostrils, even Peaches lied down and covered her nose.

"Doc's secret weapon against the angels wasn't quite outta the beta phase." James started explaining. "The batch I tested out attracted all the skunks in the area."

Everyone started taking several steps back from James, unable to stand the smell of a hundred skunk sprays awashed on the young man. But no matter how far they got, they could still smell him.

"Long story short, the skunks were hostile and nuked pretty much everyone. Me especially."

"Please tell me we got some tomato soup around here?!" Sharky pleadingly called.

"That's an old wives tale Sharky we need to boil some vinegar water." Tracey corrected.

"I don't care what we have to do as long as we get rid of that stink!" Vergil yelled.

James gave them all an annoyed look, then reached into his car. "Anybody wanna buy some skunk pelts?" He asked monotonously, showing off three "fresh" skunk skins, which somehow made the foul odor even worse!

The Sheriff had enough. "Okay Rookie, Peaches can stay inside. James you're sleeping outside until you stop reeking up the joint!"

"Aw man. Wait, why is Peaches here?"

I took that butterfly idea from Steven Universe. So if you want to know just how exactly that dream looked, check out "Mindful Education" or the song "Here Comes a Thought" from said show. It's really good and somewhat scary.