"Shit", Dep winced, the sting of alcohol and rough bandage rubbing against her broken skin.

They were speeding through the Henbane, safely strapped within the Death Wish. They had barely escaped the Mountains – the Chosen having opened fire on them once they reached the road to the Lumber Mill. The zipline had been safe enough – they'd waited in the foliage while white helicopters clipped the trees above their heads. Peaches had met up with them shortly after, having been bred in the mountains she knew her way around, and the squad took their chance at a mad dash for the Whitetail Mountain Rail Bridge. They knew they'd never make it back the entire way on foot, so luckily Jess had shot a Peggie in a truck coming towards them with an arrow – pulling his corpse from the driver's seat and tossing him out in the road. Dep sat in the back of the truckbed while Grace drove, Peaches and Jess safely taking cover inside the truck.

They were lucky to be alive – after such a long car chase. The prospect of catching the Lionesses and their leader was clearly a good incentive for the Chosen, who had tailed them in hot pursuit like something out of an 80s movie. Dep had managed to take out 7 of them with her AR-C before a stray arrow sliced her forearm and Jess had taken over her spot. Nothing serious, but seriously bleeding. Grace was bandaging it up as they spoke, while Dep drove them furiously back to the Holland Valley – her foot pumping the gas so hard she was sure there'd be an impression in her boot by the morning.

"Ouch", she winced again as Grace accidentally tugged at it. She didn't blame her though, the sharp twists and turns were making the Death Wish swerve. They'd switched vehicles as soon as they made it back to the safety of the Henbane, the Death Wish was much faster than any regular Peggie truck, which was why they used it – and why the Resistance needed gas almost 24/7. Dep was honestly surprised the Chosen had given up once they left the mountains – maybe she overestimated their determination?

"You don't gotta drive", Grace muttered. Dep shook her head, teeth chewing on the bottom lip. She didn't want to be driving either – right now all she wanted was to be curled up in bed with Boomer lying on her feet like a snuggly hot-water bottle – but they needed to get back to safety and Grace was the only one who wasn't either unresponsive or injured. Truth be told, Dep didn't trust herself to do anything but drive right now.

"Nah… you're the best field-medic and I don't think I'd trust Jess behind the wheel right now. Not after…", she cut off, taking her eyes off the road to glance over her shoulder. Jess was curled up in the backseat, blood stained into her dark green shirt, Peaches' head resting sleepily on her lap. At least one of them got back without a scratch, she smiled fondly as she watched the big cat. For something so dangerous and bloodthirsty towards Eden's Gate, Peaches definitely had her soft and cuddly side.

"Eyes up", Grace reminded her darkly, tapping her arm.

"Stop that", Dep groaned, shivering at the touch.

"Keep your eyes front and I won't have to". Grace was speaking softly, but the deep-edge to her voice made Dep nervous. They knew that this quiet moment could only last so long – and it was only while everyone caught their breath. The rest of the car-ride was relatively silent at least.

They reached the old Armstrong residence – pulling up the Death Wish into reverse and parking it under the trees. At least if any of John's men came over in a search, they wouldn't find the vehicle. Dep turned off the ignition and tenderly opened the door, careful to move her arm. She slammed the door shut, taking in the damage to the van. There were only a few scratches, and one of the window's glass was shattered. Merle shouldn't be too pissed at her then. A drop of rain landed on her nose – Montana's way of proving to her that spring did still have a presence here, it wasn't all just sweltering summers and frozen winters. The stars above were on the verge of fading, dawn was about to break. And a storm, it seemed. That was evident as soon as she hauled ass down the hatch into Grace's bunker – finding the sniper with her hands gripping onto the edge of the small breakfast table – grilling Jess, who was sullenly wiping the dried-blood off her face

"What the fuck was that!?", Grace snapped. Jess didn't flinch, instead she was the opposite. Dep sidled past them, eyes strapped to the weapons locker, very keen to neatly stash her rifle and sidearm safely before she'd clean them later. Her eyes momentarily broke away from her work to the table, where Jess was unnervingly silent. Dep swallowed. Jess' unnaturally quietness was a jarring contrast to the violence she'd created earlier that night. Much to Dep's surprise and Grace's aggravation, Jess remained sitting in the chair at the kitchen table, her hood still obscuring her eyes, hands resting in fists on top of her muddy jeans.

"Do we have to do this now?", Dep leant against the locker, watching Peaches land on her feet gracefully at the bottom of the ladder. She should be giving Peaches a treat for finally learning how to jump down and climb back up the bunker ladder by herself, but the events of the night were weighing heavy on her shoulders, and the chaos settling over the trio was predicting an oncoming argument. The cougar had feasted earlier anyway, the stained blood on her jaws being the only leftover of what was once a Peggie.

"I'm not waiting until morning", Grace shot her a look. "Jess", her hands slammed down on the table. "What are you playing at?". Not even a flinch came from the Huntress. "The whole point of the mission was that we got in, and got out. No one saw us – the most you were gonna do to the Cook was shoot an arrow through his eye". Jess's head twitched backwards at the mention of the Cook, as if Grace had slapped her again.

"It was still a better death than that piece of shit deserved", Jess muttered. Dep winced, from across the room.

"Do you not ever think about what comes after!?", Grace retorted. "You can't just go running in like that, guns blazing. You could've got Peach killed, you could've got yourself killed", she pointed at each member of the room individually. "And Dep won't be able to shoot for a week now", Grace jabbed her thumb in Rook's direction.

"Hey, don't bring me into this", she held up her hands, immediately regretting the action as a sting shot up her arm. "It's not that bad-", Dep insisted, rubbing the bandage gently. In all honesty it was just a bad cut, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm sorry, Dep", Jess' cracked voice cut through the room. Her eyes fixated on Dep's black combat boots. The cop let out a sigh, sending Jess a comforting look – despite the pain and the Huntress' hesitance to meet her eyes.

"It's alright. You didn't shoot me", she leant against the counter, taking the weight off her aching feet. Her combat boots were practical as hell, but wearing them for too long didn't half kill your toes.

"She might as well! Jess, I knew you were a wildcard when you joined, but I never let that change my opinion of you, just cause you were a bit more enthusiastic about stopping the cult than me or the Deputy", she pointed at herself. Dep's nails dug into her own arm - a small blot of red was seeping through Grace's army jacket – a tiny weak point underneath her arm that the bullet-proof vest didn't cover.

"Grace...", Dep tiptoed towards her.

"I thought you wanted to stay out of it!?", she shot back. Jess' eyes followed Dep's frantic looks, widening despite the bright bunker lights.

"You're hit". Grace's eyes trailed down towards her own shirt.

"Fuck".

"Sit down", Dep grabbed her, offering to steady the marksman if she collapsed. Her voice spread throughout the room like a soft cloud, exuding calm and comfort, when in reality she couldn't deny the frantic fountain of panic that was welling up inside her chest.

"I'm fine", Grace shook her off, carefully touching the wet mark with her fingers and then letting out a hiss.

"Stay still", Dep helped her shrug off the flag-print scarf, shedding the vest and outerwear before getting to the wound. "Ah", she breathed out in relief at seeing it wasn't from a bullet. A gash from a graze or something that happened while driving back. She didn't remember Grace being hit during their mad dash for safety, but clearly Dep had been too busy shooting Peggies and then taking over the steering wheel once they got into the Death Wish to notice.

"Told you, I'm fine", Grace insisted but didn't make any moves to throw Dep off. Ignoring her own injury, Dep worked quickly at the wound, pressing a gauze-pad over it. It luckily wasn't serious enough to need stitching. "It's nothing…", her voice cracked, suddenly tired and breathy.

"Do I gotta tape you to the wall?", Dep scolded as Grace tried to push her away, grabbing at the bandages. Dep smacked the back of her hand lightly in response. A grumble escaped Grace's lips, her eyes squeezed shut as she mumbled a prayer. The work wouldn't take long. Jess made no effort to come near either, still unsure if she was in trouble. Dep didn't blame her; Grace's anger didn't surface easily, but it was almost always for a reason. She quickly circled around the sniper's wound, careful not to put too much painful pressure, fingers working deftly until it was almost over.

"Amen", Grace opened her eyes wearily as her prayer finished, squinting at the dim bunker lights. After getting to know her more, Dep had gotten used to Grace occasionally muttering words to God – words that might never be heard, but were spoken all the same. Grace looked worn out; her grip was weakening on the chair, which she had been clenching tightly every time Dep had touched her injury - but as her brown eyes re-opened and took in their surroundings, Dep could see the protective anger rise again as she glared at Jess, like a stubborn flame refusing to be extinguished. Grace really wasn't going to drop this.

"Why the fuck did you run ahead like that?", her brown eyes bored down into Jess' green gaze. The pain in her voice vanished, replaced with animosity. Dep fixated on working away at the gash, trying to repress the nerves she felt when the sniper raised her voice. Grace was a fucking beast when pissed off.

"I thought if you came with…", Jess wiped at her chin. Blood dripped from her fingers, pooling onto their kitchen table. "Then this time I'd finish the job".

Silence.

"What are we to you!?", Grace stood up, outraged. Dep coiled back, the bandage still in her hand. Grace's chair fell to the floor with a loud clatter, sending Boomer scurrying into another room with a whine. Grace didn't even bat an eye. "Are we not even your fucking teammates anymore? Just your enablers to accompany you into death traps and then pull you out last minute!?"

"It's not like that! You don't know what the hell you're on about!".

"And I can say the same thing to you! Cause the shit you just pulled off wasn't what had rehearsed. Do you even have any idea how dangerous that could've gone!? We were in Jacob Seed's fucking backyard and he very nearly nabbed us. You could be in that armoury right now if we weren't there regardless!"

"I'd do it again if it meant the Cook was gone!". The argument reverberated around the bunker's metal walls. Peaches was lying under the table at Dep's feet, her paws over her head. Dep cast a glance from Jess to Grace, both on the verge of murdering the other.

"Okay, can we both just take a step back. It's been a long night-", she stepped in between, placing a hand on either of their chests. Jess flinched away, hurting Dep's feelings for a second before she swallowed it down, while Grace took her hand, giving it a squeeze. Her eyes sent a flicker of gratitude towards the cop, before they narrowed in again towards their teammate.

"Yea, all I wanna do is sleep it off", Jess snapped at Grace, turning in the direction of the bedrooms.

"Not in here you ain't". Dep's mouth fell open. She was gonna suggest that Jess should take a shower first, not sleep outside! Jess whipped around, emerald eyes stinging with fury.

"What!?"

"I said, not in my bunker you ain't. You wanna sleep and forget about it? Go somewhere else"

"Grace-"

"For once, shut it!". Dep's lips closed of their own accord. "You", Grace's head snapped towards Jess. "Get out"

"Are you serious!? You're throwing me out? What, like we're some 6-year-olds at a slumber party?"

"You always brag about how good you are in the wild, then fine. There's the door, go sleep in the woods somewhere. After that stunt you just pulled, I don't trust spending the night in the same place as you", Grace pointed towards the ladder. The room fell back into dangerous silence. Jess' eyes softened, pleading towards Rook.

"Dep, c'mon. You're not believing this shit?"

"Jess-", Dep tried to reason. Grace let out an angry cough. The archer's lip trembled for a second, before her eyes turned withering and accusatory.

"Fine. Fuck you too", she stalked out of the bunker without another word.

Grace glared daggers in her direction until they heard the bunker hatch slam. She let out a deep sigh, slinking back into her chair and closing her eyes. A whole minute went by in silence, where Rook wasn't sure whether to move or speak. She heard a noise from behind her, and an Australian-Cattle dog slunk out from under her bed, whining. Dep stooped down, careful of her arm, and patted his head comfortingly, hoping he hadn't heard too much of the argument. Boomer had become accustomed to gunfire – thanks to his training as a gun dog at Rae Rae's farm – but that didn't mean he should have to put up with a bad home environment.

The Lionesses were supposed to be a team. They were supposed to be co-workers, friends. They weren't supposed to fight. They weren't supposed to be like this.

Dep cast a glance awkwardly at the sniper who was resting in the chair. One brown eye opened, as if aware. "You gonna come finish this?", she gestured softly to herself. Whatever anger that had been evident before had now melted, like a fierce blizzard into calm rain. Rook bobbed her head soundlessly, coming over to the sniper and removing the rest of her gear. Grace shivered at having the cold air exposed to her sweat-damp skin – clad the thin American-flag t-shirt and black leggings she wore under her old army uniform. It was one of the things Dep loved about Grace when she first laid eyes on her – a uniform that was American military, not the white Peggie sweaters she'd become regrettably familiar with.

"I forgot how much this shit stings", Grace's fingers dug into the table, which were taken gently by Dep's hand, letting her cling onto her wrist instead.

"Now you know how I feel", a smirk played on her lips. It didn't take long to patch Grace up, and the two Fangs for Hire came and sat at their feet while she worked. "Good as new", she wrapped it up neatly, letting out a yawn.

"If you wanna dip for the night, I won't be mad", Grace tiredly ran her fingers over Dep's bandage. The officer nodded, and got up to put away the medkit in the bunker storage. She stashed it away safely, Boomer laying dutifully at her heels the whole time. Dep dropped down onto her bunk, relishing in the soft feel of her blanket under her thighs. She cast a glance up at Grace, who was busily putting away her rifle.

"What?"

"Okay, do you have eyes in the back of your head or something?", Dep toyed with her hair, as Peaches jumped onto her bunk. The mattress groaned under the sudden weight miserably.

"Or something", Grace nodded, making eye-contact. "What is it?"

"I'm not tryna start a fight", she began, fiddling with her bootlaces. The Lionesses had endured arguments in the past, usually about trivial things – but now Jess was god knows where, and they had just killed one of Jacob's favourites. This was the most crucial time for them to stick together and watch each other's backs, and yet their trio was now down to two.

"But… don't you think that's being pretty harsh? She's really torn up about this".

Grace eyed her carefully.

"I know", she swatted the air tiredly. Dep gaped at her in surprise. "I'm just… so fucking exhausted", she slumped down on the bed next to Dep. Her fingers gently tugged at the outer-fabric, before Dep realised she was helping her pull off her jacket. Peaches got up in a huff, her comfy spot ruined, and padded back out into the kitchen. The sniper helped her shuck off the heavy clothes: bullet proof vest, brown-leather jacket, waist holsters and all, until Dep was left in her t-shirt and jeans. She sent a look of thanks, sidling past the sniper towards the chest of drawers near the bunk beds. Grace turned away without Dep having to ask; both had spent so much time together against the Peggies that seeing each other in a state of undress was hardly enough to cause embarrassment, especially since how they'd witnessed their other team member smash a man's face to pieces. While shedding her many mud-crusted layers and grabbing the clean comfy clothes laid out, Grace politely stared at the wall, back facing her.

"I know it got real heavy out there but, I'm too tired to deal with it now, Dep. Jess' been a loose cannon for a while now; don't get me wrong, she's a great fighter and fun to be around, but she's not working as a group enough. I'm scared she's gonna get herself – or us – into a lot of shit that we can't walk out of".

"So you do care about her?", Dep had been intently listened while changing into her nightwear. She curled up next to Grace on the army cot, both clad in soft t-shirts and leggings. Grace turned several shades of pink all at once, letting out a splutter.

"Of course I do! This ain't about me, it's about her", she pushed Dep off her, eliciting a tired giggle from the cop. "She's just acting too… crazy recently. Until she calms down, I'm happy to have her back but…", Grace trailed off, suddenly finding the ground very interesting to look at. Dep read her body language. "I'm tired. Not just with everything that we've done – I'm broke. Not broken. I'm emotionally broke. It takes so much energy to get through the day when I all I wanna do is curl up under the ground and cry… but I know that the people we take care of, they're toast without us to keep Eden's Gate away, and those Peggies aren't gonna wait until I feel like working".

"You can take time off. Let me handle John for now; after the shit we've been through? Hell, we deserve an entire year of vacation", she offered. As soon as the words left her mouth, Grace brushed them away.

"When was the last time you had a full night of rest, huh?", she pushed a stray strand of hair behind Dep's ears. It tickled her neck and she scrunched up her nose in response. "Nah. We got each other, we just gotta take it one day at a time…", Grace cast a glance towards the ceiling, and the world beyond the safety of the bunker. "Whether that is with or without Jess". Dep let out a slow sigh, breathing out through her mouth.

"I get it, I get it. Listen, we've been awake for like 48 hours straight and I'm pretty sure the sun is about to come up outside. Let's just… get some sleep and think about this in a day, deal?"

"Sounds good. I don't think I'm seeing straight anymore".

After they'd packed away their gear, leaving Jess' belongings untouched, the pair washed their faces and did their night routine – too tired to prepare food or do literally anything else. A proper shower was in order tomorrow, because tonight it'd be too difficult to keep the freshly-applied bandages away from warm water and soap. Dep listened to the creak of the bed as Grace climbed up into the top bunk, nestling down and staying quiet. They kept the little fairy-lights on – it helped one see if the other had to get up in the night, especially since it was pitch black in the bunker without any light. Dep knew the real reason Grace had left them on however – if Jess decided to come back.

"By God, this won't break us", she told herself firmly, whispering in the back of her own mind as Grace tossed and turned above her head. "Eden's Gate is gonna hit us with everything, but we're not gonna back down now".

XXX

The soldier was on the Veteran's Centre balcony, steadily blowing out rings of smoke through his nostrils. He enjoyed these few moments of calm, where the only sound in the world was the howls of Judges and soft pitter-patter of nightly rain. It rained often here, up in the mountains, and he relished every shower. The scent of damp soil mixed with the forest was as comforting to him as a softly-spoken lullaby. An old-forgotten memory of North Georgia, where the trees used to smell like this, and he would spend an evening wrapped up in his Momma's shawl, while Joseph read aloud to them by candlelight and John would toddle about on the lawn, catching fireflies in his chubby hands.

But then his old man would return home, and the pleasant sound of crickets would be filled with shouts, and the smack of a belt meeting bruised skin.

Jacob coughed, disturbing the silence and trod on the cigarette-butt aggressively. Once it was stamped out into nothing more than a burning ember, he glared at the night sky. He hoped wherever his father was, he was doing what he loved the most, drinking himself to death and punching a wall. A lifetime of scotch clogging up his veins, turning his face purple from heart-failure.

"Bastard", his white knuckles gripped the railing, making the metal groan from the pressure. He didn't blame his Mom one bit for what happened – she was so crushed under her husband's boot she didn't dare squeak out of place, although that just made it harder for him. He took beating after beating for his brothers, and he'd do it again too if it meant they could sleep soundly at night. Jacob's hand trailed to his chest, fingers pressing against an old, faded scar.

"Sir!", someone burst into the room. Jacob whipped around, and the soldier was dangling off the floor by his shirt collar before he even uttered a word. His eyes were glazed over, finally focussing on Jacob's face after a few seconds of dysphoria.

"Speak", Jacob commanded through gritted teeth. When the soldier only spluttered in response, he rolled his eyes and dropped him to the ground. The cultist scrambled to his feet, almost falling over from the sudden dizziness.

"I was sent by Brother Joab, sir", the man clutched at the back of his head, wincing. "He says the Cook and his team have been found murdered – and they think they know who did it"

"If they only think so, why bother me with needless questions?", he waved his hands away, not bothering to look back at the soldier. "I have better things to do with my time – than listen to your unreliable information", Jacob growled, indicating for the soldier to shut up. He stalked away. Now that his brief moment of peace was disturbed he wanted to get out of the building and take a walk around the facility.

"But it's the Deputy, sir!". Jacob froze. The soldier peered at him curiously, taking it as a sign to continue. "The Deputy, Joab says. They recovered camera footage from the Lumber Mill, after the patrol found two of their unit members shot. Her band of harlots were seen sneaking into the Mountains from the Rail Bridge-"

"Prepare the helicopters, and send for Joab", Jacob strode past him, already out the door. The soldier tripped over his own feet trying to catch up as they marched through the dimly lit hallways.

"Joab is already there, sir. He said he anticipated your orders", he panted, falling behind Jacob's quick pace.

"Divine insight on his behalf then", Jacob retorted, his face changing to a grim neutral. He regretted how one of his men was present when he'd heard of the Deputy – he couldn't let anyone suspect something was up until he had a good enough excuse to divert resources into capturing her.

And this, looked like it was it.

Jacob smiled, and caught sight of himself passing by in a mirror, his white teeth bared like fangs. Part of him yearned to go out and find her immediately – he knew it could only take a matter of days with his excellent tracking skills – but the other part wanted to stay within the Veteran's Centre, carefully calculating his next move. He needed to be smart about this, he couldn't let a quick temper or a wrong choice deter him from his goal. The Deputy was to be brought to him alive – once he figured out she operated, he could analyse her strengths and weaknesses. He needed to think like her, to understand what her goals were, in order to bring her in and train her. It wasn't going to be easy – he knew that much. She'd given his men such a run for their money in Holland Valley that John was close to tearing his hair out, but she couldn't run forever. Sooner or later someone in the Resistance would give her up, or she would slip, and he'd be ready to catch her in his claws. Even sooner than he could have imagined, those being indoctrinated at the Grand-View Hotel and his soldiers training at the Stone Ridge Chalet were quickly gaining in numbers. In the meantime, he could run his own personal errands. He was his own boss, after all.

XXX

Jacob's demeanour hardened as soon as they landed. Two of his attendants, the Chosen who remained by his sides, clutched at their balaclavas as the odour of burnt flesh blew into their faces like a hot, sickly-smelling tidal wave. He ignored their coughing and pleas, they were clearly weak if a smell could affect them so badly. Jacob stalked across the muddy ground, noticing pools of blood having stained into the dirt, towards a black tent where some of his high-ranking officers were holding a meeting.

The chatter immediately died down as he ducked under the tent flap, out of the rain. His officers, wearing their red Chosen uniforms stood to attention – arms folded behind backs, feet apart. He slowly walked past them, eyeing each member up and down with a scowl, before addressing the group at the front.

"What's the report?".

"The Deputy. We're sure of it now, she was caught sneaking into our borders, sir", the officer closest to him saluted. Jacob recognised him as the one who was in charge of surveillance. Each officer had a different role to play, a unique and important purpose – Judges, surveillance, recruitment, training, torture, convoys, and the list went on. There were only about ten of them in the room, besides him. The officer gestured to the makeshift tent around them, where several monitors were set up and playing the same video on loop. It was short, only about 15 seconds long. The video was of a woman hiding behind a tree, the tell-tale prod of a sniper's barrel sticking out as a flash was caught on-camera.

Jacob's heart soared. She was here.

Another monitor caught the impact of the bullet, landing in a soldier's head and sending him falling to the ground. His eyes were transfixed on the footage, like a moth, paralysed by a dancing flame. What was she thinking in that moment? Was she disgusted by his men's actions? Was she impressed? Did she feel fear? He looked so deep into her eyes that he could've sworn it was as if she was in the room with him. He wanted to see what she was thinking, to open up that beautiful head and spill out all of its secrets.

At long last, his prey had wandered home. Where was she now?

"Which direction did she leave in?", his men jumped to attention again when he addressed them. Jacob's temper was not as unpredictable as John's but it was all the more violent and destructive. He rarely had moments of explosion anymore, after being reunited with Joseph he had a learnt a lot to calm himself down, but that didn't stop him from having his moments. His men often darted away from him when he was striding across the grounds at the Veteran's Centre, allowing him to maintain his brutal "Soldier" persona.

"The way they came, sir", Jacob gave the soldier a pointed look. No shit.

"Once she entered the Henbane", he crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Well?". His soldiers looked at each other nervously.

"We…"

"Speak up", his tone was dry ice. He was quickly losing patience with them – they were supposed to be his Chosen officers, the leaders in charge of all elements of his army. Was following three women really too difficult for them?

"We didn't track her that far, sir".

The soldiers gulped as Jacob turned away, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. God almighty – how was he supposed to build an army with such incompetent fuckwits like these?

"You're telling me that she snuck in past our defences-", he began dangerously, leaning forward onto the desk, arms outstretched. His officers murmured amongst themselves anxiously, and he could see the flickering of eyes, desperately trying to escape his stony glare. "-Tracked down one of your unit - my most esteemed warriors - and murdered him, then escaped in a truck all the while being pursued by Chosen pilots?", he listed off every grievance. His men didn't meet his eye.

Jacob's fist was brought down on the metal table, and to their credit, they didn't startle.

"What happened once she left our borders? Was the order merely called off? Did you not see fit to follow her further!?", he chewed out the room, no one spoke back to him. That showed something at least, they weren't complete idiots. But they still didn't meet his eyes, choosing to look at the ground instead of their commanding general. He dropped into the metal chair in front of the camera footage, waving tiredly. His heart still pounded in his ears from his angry tirade, but he couldn't care less about his officers tonight.

"Return to your posts, and don't disturb me unless there's news". The officers didn't need to be told twice, almost tripping over themselves to leave the tent. Jacob rested his head in his hands once he'd heard their frantic footsteps fade away, not out of exhaustion or nerves – no, that would be weakness – but out of irritation. How could he fight a war against Palmer and his ragtag bunch when his own men were completely lacking basic common sense?

The air in front of him moved and he didn't bother looking up, addressing the space before him.

"Did you get any results at least?", he groaned into his own palm.

"I assure you'll find them… more than satisfactory", the serpentine voice of Joab answered him. Jacob's icy blue eyes met his lieutenant's, who stood tall before the Soldier. Joab never cowered before him like the rest of the officer's, one of the reasons Jacob tolerated his presence for so long. The commanding lieutenant's shoulders were spread apart, greasy black hair slicked down either side of his face, although his uniform was as clean and neat as ever. Joab was one of the few Eden's Gate members who took pride over the state of their uniform – Jacob thought it was frivolous, clothes didn't matter when it came to battle (unless it was for protection, of course), but Joab kept himself smart and that seemed to be the only thing he cared for, with the exception of the trials. Whatever. His lieutenant got him answers when he wanted them, which was why he let him be with his pastimes, however unconventional they were.

"What then?", Jacob eyed him challengingly. Joab pursed his lips, pulling them up into a calm, unsettling smile.

"It's the Deputy alright. My intel revealed that she took the Whitetail Rail Bridge – which was overlooked due to its incorrect assumption to no longer function as a means of transport"

"That's how she got past our guards", Jacob got up, pacing across the room and leaning over a large copy of the Hope County Map that was illuminated under a lightbulb. Joab straightened his collar, following him smugly.

"I must confess sir; I was surprised you didn't call for me sooner. I would've cleaned up this Deputy mess quicker than the rest of that rabble", his snide voice perked up. Jacob felt his grip on the map tighten – he didn't like the tone Joab used towards her. He wanted to check something first, however.

"What's your opinion?"

"On her, you mean?", Joab half-hissed in disgust. He took Jacob's stormy silence as an affirmative. "If you're asking my personal opinion, sir. Women have no place in war – if she is to be captured then so be it, but I wouldn't advise in appointing her a permanent position. Let us be done with this Jezebel, and rid of her". Jacob had expected this sort of answer, although it didn't make him any less irritable. But he felt like counselling Joab for a short time longer – he had asked for his opinion, after all, and his lieutenant had never let him down previously.

"What if I were to reveal the Father's plans for her was recruitment?", he eyed his subordinate carefully. Joab's face remained a calm neutral. "How would she train with the rest of the Chosen?"

"I doubt she'll be able to hold the position long sir", he turned back to the map, already bored of the conversation. Jacob felt somewhat impressed, no one else would dare turn their back on him.

"Care to elaborate?"

"She'd be a distraction for the rest of the troops – they wouldn't be able to focus on their training if she were present for them to ogle at. Besides, it's only to be expected", he straightened up once more, looking Jacob in the eye. The Soldier prompted him to speak.

"It's only to be expected", he continued. "When they keep men and women together. You can hardly blame the troops, at the knowledge of having females nearby. Makes them forget themselves". Jacob wanted to strike the smirk off Joab's pale features, but he kept his knuckles clenched around the table-edge, pretending it was something else. It was a good thing he held this position, not Joab.

"Why do you ask?"

"We're having a change of plan", Jacob cleared his throat. "And I'm giving you the first orders". Immediately, Joab's posture became more self-important, like a swotty kid in class sucking up to their teacher for a gold sticker.

"The Deputy's capture now takes priority over the Whitetails". As soon as they rose, Joab's shoulders fell again.

"Sir, are you sure this is the wisest cause of action-"

"I expect you to carry out orders, Joab. Not undermine my authority", Jacob barked, stilling his lieutenant. Joab's eyes glinted for a second, staring him down. Jacob felt his heartrate quicken, did he want to challenge him?

But the moment passed as quickly as it came, and Joab's eyes settled once more.

"Understood, sir"

"The Deputy has already proven herself to be trouble down South – let us not make the same mistake as the Baptist and Siren have, and prepare for her next arrival"

"You think she will return?", Joab questioned him, listening to every word.

"I have no doubt of it", Jacob tilted his head towards the cameras. "Once the lamb has had her first taste of danger – where true predators threaten her – she will want to return for the thrill. Lambs often don't understand the danger they get themselves into, before it is too late". Jacob was suddenly aware of Joab's excitement, his breath hitching at the promise of violence. "The Whitetails are probably unaware of her little night visit – we will focus on them later when she is less of a concern. For now, focus all our resources into bringing in the Deputy". Joab moved to leave but Jacob halted him with one hand.

"But", he pronounced the words slowly, making sure no mistake could be made. He knew it wasn't that Joab would misunderstand – but he might try to go against his orders on a technicality. The man had proved himself to be crafty. "Watch her from a distance. Stalk her, as a predator does to prey. Find out where she obtains her weapons, where she rests at night. But no harm comes to her until I say so, understood?". Joab nodded obediently, but Jacob crossed his arms. He waited, impatiently.

"Understood, General".

"You may leave". Joab saw himself out without another word. Jacob's lungs burned for another smoke, but he knew that now wasn't the time to sit around. The Deputy had finally shown her face, and that meant he needed to prepare. His boots squished on the mud outside the tent, glancing about the environment like a crime-scene detective in a noir thriller. Dawn was arriving, bringing rain with it and he felt a cold droplet land on his nose as he began to survey the damage his Deputy and her little group of "Lionesses" (he chuckled at the word) had done to his men. It turned out the 'Hunger Games' lookalike was the one to kill the Cook. "Jess Black", if that was her real name. He turned the red wanted poster in his hands, spying arrows littered about the clearing. It made sense, on his account. He knelt down in the mud, eyes darting from the bloodied splinter to the Cook's caved-in skull. He assumed as such – the Deputy was much like him. She remained in the shadows on a well-placed perch, staying out of reach while able to reach everyone else.

"Smart girl to stay hidden", he felt proud, following the footprints of the Deputy's shoes. He remembered what size she was from the trainers his men had retrieved in her work locker at the old Sheriff's office – and her two accomplices both had different footwear. He followed the muddy tracks – only a few hours old – through the trees and towards a cut blue cord. The remnants of a zipline. So that's how she escaped.

Jacob stared out across the Whitetails – a wolf surveying his territory – and searched for the woman who had caused oh so much destruction in the span of a few hours. All he wanted to know now, was where she was hiding.

"Where did you run off to, little lamb?"

XXX

Author's Notes: Now, we've finally met Joab! His character was based on the Nazis from "Inglorious Bastards", since I recently watched that movie during lockdown. I wrote him to essentially behave like the most despicable piece of shit you can think of. Think of a Professor Snape lookalike but as a misogynistic, power-hungry Nazi who sees himself superior to everyone else. That's Joab. I must also thank Donald Trump, who I despise with every fibre of my being, for giving me the idea of "What do they expect when they keep men and women together?" (his comments about sexual assault in the military) as I thought it'd reflect Joab's character perfectly.

There's trouble in Montana, and the Lionesses are taking a break :c They're tough cookies however, they'll come around.

But, finally Jacob has what he's been planning all along! The wheels are in motion, and only time will tell where they spin towards. Also, when I write stuff set in the US, I sometimes habitually spell things the way they do, which is why Jacob says "Mom" instead of "Mum", just clarifying :)

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E.M