At the end of his shift Damian walked by the punch clock. It was still non-operational. He wrote his time on his card as Cassius had shown him and then made his way to the back of the store. He was unconcerned that several of his co-workers took a keener interest in him than normal and talked amongst themselves as he passed. He walked by the meat department as two men were arriving for their shifts. The Giambetti brothers worked in the evenings and were well known to night-shift stockers as well. They claimed to be descended from a long line of famous Giambetti butchers going all the way back to the old country. The one night Damian had helped close the store the brothers had invited him to play a few hands of poker. He had won forty dollars from the brothers, but he didn't have to do anything to win them over. For some reason unknown to him, they had liked him from his first day on the job. They were broad shouldered and ham fisted - their faces mottled and reddish like the slabs of meat they were surrounded by. They were loud, boisterous and always in good spirits. They made wearing aprons look manly.

"Daaayyyyymeeeeaaahhhhnnn!" they called to him as he strode by. "How's it hangin' kid?"Milo, the younger brother asked.

"A little to the left," Damian answered Milo with a straight face.

"When you gonna give us a chance to win our two hundred back?" Max, the older Giambetti queried with goodhearted gruffness. The amount of Damian's winnings grew every time the Giambetti brothers reminisced about the event.

Damian nodded to Max as he walked by. "It was forty, and I got my first check today, so anytime."

The two brothers chuckled and elbowed each other as they busied themselves preparing long knives and wicked looking meat cleavers. Milo began checking over the department's impressively massive meat grinder. "Gotta love that kid, Max!"

"What a guy!" Max agreed as he drove a tenderizing hammer down on a slab of beef making a rib-bone snap. "He cracks me up!"

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Damian pushed open the door to a small room in the back of the store that served the stockers as a locker room. "What's goin' on Shaggy?" Cassius had just finished changing into his street clothes- a dark sports coat, pin-stripe button down shirt, leather belt with a silver and turquoise buckle, dark, well-pressed chinos and black leather shoes. He looked like an intern for a wall street investment firm.

"Nothing much." Damian made his way to his locker and began removing his Shop 'n' Save attire.

Cassius held up a blue tie that matched his belt. "What do you think, tie or no?"

"No."

Cassius nodded. "That's what I thought. Gift from my Grandma, you know?"

Damian stilled for a moment, then continued changing clothes. Cassius pulled a back pack out of his locker and set it in the floor. He opened a flap and took out a baggie filled with marijuana. He quickly and expertly rolled a small joint which he stashed somewhere on his person with the dexterity of a magician making a coin disappear. He grinned at the baggie and then carefully folded it in an old t shirt and replaced it in the pack. When he finished this operation, Cassius smoothed his shirt and spoke casually. "Nothing much going on huh? That's not what I hear. I got the low-down that our friend Logan is on the warpath- that he thinks you did something to his girl."

"I guess he can think what he wants."

"Shaggy... Damian, why you trying to get all on the wrong side of those people?" Cassius dropped his usual air of casual distance for a few moments. "Look man, you've only been here a few days, and you're mixing it up with the wrong crowd. I've tried to show you how it is, right? This place is fucked up, hell we all know that. You just do what you have to do to look past it all and just get by."

Damian stopped what he was doing and turned his full attention to Cassius.

"Like get stoned?" His eyes were blank, unreadable, but his tone carried a hint of tension.

Cassius leaned closer and rested one hand on the wall. "That's my prescription for this bullshit. Doesn't have to be yours. I'm just saying, what's the point in making waves? Water gets too rough, people drown!"

"You told me on my first day that I couldn't let people walk on me around here."

Cassius grimaced. "Yeah but sometimes the best way not to get stepped on is to just stay out of the way, you feel me?"

Damian took off his button down shirt and folded it. Cassius was surprised to see that Damian's lean frame, which appeared sparse and lanky when clothed, was actually hard and lined with banded muscle.

"Cassius, how long have you been here?"

"Hell Shaggy, way too long. I worked here when I was a kid for Big Daddy Mike- that was Sonny's father. He was a good man. He built this place up from nothing, and folks round here wouldn't think of shopping anyplace else. But that was then..." Cassius grimaced as if tasting a dish he didn't care for at all. "Now Sonny, he's a whole different story. The only reason that store Quartermania got into the neighborhood is because Sonny's so good at running the Shop 'n' Save into the ground. The Quartermaines have been undercutting all the local shops, runnin' everyone out of business. Sonny's pissin' away all of his old man's work, and if I gave him a hundred dollars he still couldn't buy a clue. Either he doesn't know what he's doin' or he doesn't care."

Damian pulled a sweat shirt over his head and let it settle into place. "You know just about everything about the business don't you? And you know about everything that goes on here too."

"I guess so. Except the night-shift maybe. Diego somehow sleazed his way into running that crew, and he's all territorial about it. He's real sensitive about who gets on graveyard. Rumor has it that he won't even let Sonny on the warehouse floor at night. Guess he wants things done his way and nobody messing around with it." Cassius laughed scornfully. "It works out though, cause me and him, we have an agreement. He doesn't like workin' with me, and I sure as hell don't like workin' with him."

Damian mentally filed this information away. "Cassius, you've seen how things can be done correctly, how they used to be done, and I doubt anyone in the store knows the business or the neighborhood like you do."

"Yeah, there ain't much lame in my game, but what are you getting at?"

"What do you think? Why don't you do something about it? Make this place better." Damian sat down and began slipping on tennis shoes.

Cassius rubbed his chin and looked at Damian skeptically. "Is that what you're trying to do with all this trouble you're into? Make things better?"

Damian stopped tying his shoes and stared at the floor for a few seconds before shaking his head and pulling the laces tight. "No. That's not my mission."

"Mission?" Cassius laughed again. "Okay, whatever. Look, no one notices when someone tries to do things right. The people with the power just don't give a shit. All they want to do is milk what they can from the poor suckers they got a little power over. You think Sonny notices or cares that I know his business and his store better than he does?"

Damian stood. "Maybe you don't show him anything worth noticing."

Cassius stepped back as if he'd been slapped. "Is that what you think?"

Damian's posture shifted subtly, and his green eyes now smouldered with a cold anger. "I think you're wasted all the time because it's easier to stay numb and laugh at the world as it crumbles around you, than it is to admit that you've failed to try something, anything, to save what you care about from being destroyed."

Cassius grimaced and seemed torn between anger and disappointment. "You're letting me down Shaggy. Been here a few days and already riding your high horse so hard it's stuck half way up your ass. You've got no right to judge me."

Damian's whole body quivered with tension that seemed to have come from nowhere. He was looking at Cassius, but his eyes were focused on something far away. "What would your Granny say if she could see what you've done?"

Cassius grimaced. "My Grandma..." he trailed off and his eyes narrowed as he examined the young man in front of him. "You still talkin' about me or yourself?"

Damian let out a long breath and the tension flowed from his body. Slowly he turned back to his locker and began arranging it's contents.

"What's up with you, man?" Cassius asked. "I thought maybe we were getting to be friends."

"I've only got one friend," Damian answered, his voice emotionless, " and he's not here."

Cassius shook his head in disgust and snatched his backpack from the floor. "You know what? Fuck it. You just keep right on doing things on your own, since you've got it all figured out." He turned to leave and almost stepped into Logan Hayes who was now standing in the doorway. As each shifted to let the other pass neither noticed Damian retrieve the nine-millimeter pistol from his locker and slip it into the back waist band of his jeans. He pulled his bulky sweatshirt down to cover the protruding grip.

Cassius stalked angrily from the room as Logan slowly approached.

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"Don't worry, I'm not here to fight. I just... I want to talk to you."

Damian nodded and gestured to the bench across from him, before sitting down himself. Logan slung a leg over the bench and settled down straddling it. He cocked his head and glanced over his shoulder at the door before turning his focus back to Damian.

"Look, you seem like an okay guy. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot with that basketball game or something? I know Diego acted like an asshole, that's just him, but I hope you know I'm not like that."

Damian watched him dispassionately. "It was just a game. I played because Cassius told me to. It didn't mean anything."

"Exactly!" Logan let out a relieved sigh. "I don't want to fight you man. This mess with Maxie, it's probably just a misunderstanding, right?"

"I don't want to fight you either," Damian agreed, "but Maxie and I understood each other perfectly."

Logan's brow creased, and he frowned. "You stepped over the line. Calling her out in the middle of the store? Most of the employees have already heard about it. Something's got to be done, you understand?"

"I've assessed the situation again. Maxie baited me, and I reacted emotionally. I should never have let her distract me. My reaction was too harsh." Damian thought about Cassius, how the young man who had tried to mentor him in his own way had walked away angry because of hard words. He bit his lip.

Logan sat up and looked hopeful for the first time. "So you'll apologize to her? Just tell her you're sorry, and I can smooth this over." He shrugged. "You'll probably have to do it in front of her friends- that's the only way she'll be happy, but I don't think there's anything I can do about that."

"No, I don't think so," Damian said evenly.

There was silence for a few moments. Logan stared at Damian incredulously.

"You won't apologize?"

"I think I'll pass."

Logan slouched down over his knees and ran both of his hands over the back of his neck as if battling the beginnings of a migraine. "All right. Here's what's going to happen. You know the stairs inside the northeast entrance of the park- the ones with the columns and arches and stuff?"

"I know the place."

Logan sighed and continued. "You're gonna meet me there in an hour. I'll try to keep Maxie from bringing a big audience. You meet me there, and we get this over with. If you're there, and you don't make me come looking for you, I'll go real easy on you. The fight will just be for show. You'll get a little banged up, sure, but I promise I won't hurt you too bad."

"That's no way to fight." Damian's tone betrayed no emotion.

"What?" Logan sputtered, confused.

"If you choose to fight me I'll defend myself. The cardinal rule of combat is fight to win."

Logan gritted his teeth, his face flushed with frustration. "If I choose? Between you and Maxie, I'm not getting much of a choice here!"

Damian shrugged and watched Logan with an unsympathetic gaze.

"Look kid, there's pride and then there's just plain stupid. I'm trying to help you out here. Look at me and look at yourself. If you force me to do this for real you're gonna get hurt."

Damian waited silently.

Logan leaned back and sucked in a deep breath. He decided to try a different tack. "You think any of this is going to matter a few months from now? I've got plans, man. A whole life that's got nothing to do with this place. I'm going to join the military, get some skills, an education..."

"You want to be a soldier," Damian stated.

"Yeah, I'm just trying to get by until then. A year from now no one's gonna remember who won or lost one fight. Stop being a pain in the ass!"

"If it doesn't matter then why do it?" Damian asked, though he already knew the answer. "Maxie," he stated. "You care about her."

Logan slumped again, defeated. "I love her. I don't know why I'm telling you this." He let out a long breath and squared his jaw as if coming to a decision. "You can't repeat any of this, okay?"

After a moment Damian nodded.

"Maxie's not the terrible person everyone thinks she is," Logan continued. "She has issues... things have happened in her family. Her parents are divorced, and... she has an eating disorder. When she was just a kid she got really sick and had to have a heart transplant, so this stuff can effect her health even more than a normal person, you know? I work really hard to get her to eat right, but every time I feel like I'm making progress she turns cold and shuts me out." Logan sighed in frustration. "I don't think she believes that anyone can really love her, so she wants people to envy her, to be afraid of her. I have to show her, you understand? I have to do this."

In the silence following these confessions the two young men sat quietly regarding one another.

Finally Damian shifted. "I'll be there. One hour."

Logan stood and looked down at Damian regretfully. He opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it. He turned and pushed open the door.

"It's Damian, right? Your name."

"Yes."

"Damian... you're one weird guy, you know that?"

"Yes."

The door swung shut with a ponderous finality after Logan left. Damian glanced around the empty locker room. He stood and stretched, then slowly pulled the pistol from his waistband. He held it under the light and stared at it for a few moments. Finally he turned to his locker and placed the gun under his folded Shop 'n' Save apron. He closed the locker and secured it with a combination lock he had picked up from the hardware aisle. He placed his fingertips gently on the locker door.

"I won't be needing you," he said quietly. "Not yet."