Logan Mayer was in a good mood. More than he'd had before, when that impertinent little bitch had given him a reason to put her in her place. It was simply a wonderful mood.

Bradley and Angus had gone off to put in their reports, and the rookie was out running contact point, so Mayer had removed his helmet and strutted through Stockton, watching the ladies swoon. He never got tired of that.

The only way this day could get better would be if he found that fucking demon and made his little girl swoon, too. He knew he'd been close, before. It didn't take much to impress women. And the words he'd spoken to her, oh, she would not forget that, anytime soon.

Mayer made his way to the mess hall, his helmet under his arm. He didn't understand why Bradley had let the ghoul go, when it was protocol to gather up all ghouls. Sigma rounded them up on a regular basis, driving them back to Detroit, whether or not they'd turned feral. The High Ferrule said every ghoul was important, to the benefit of Man.

Bradley hadn't explained his actions, as of yet. Mayer didn't want to report him to Paramount for not following orders; he enjoyed being a member of Sigma. If he screwed up his deployment with HARD, he wouldn't get to shoot people. He really wanted to shoot that fucking ghoul.

It got Mayer's back up to know that this one-armed defiled asshole was running around out in the wastes with that girl, right now. Did she ever need lessons on behavior! Interfering with Sigma's work, being impudent at the clinic, assaulting Wade at On-the-Bay, threatening Angus with the little striker she'd found. What the hell did she even have it for, anyway?

He remembered his father telling him that the path to the heart of God was through that of a heathen. Those who fought the most, were worth the most effort. He understood, now.

He imagined, if he were to return to Detroit and successfully transform this heathen child into a functioning member of the church, he could guarantee his induction to a soft position. Maybe Deacon. It would bring even more respect to him for his family, especially now that his father had recently become exalted. Maybe he'd even work his way up and take Cardinal Burgess' job, one day.

His mouth curved into a smile, as he sat down in the mess hall. Others were staring, but he ignored them, watching Jack Calhoun walk into the room. Calhoun swept the room with his eyes, and stopped on Mayer.

After a moment of consideration, he moved to join the soldier. "Almost didn't recognize you," he said. "You're awful tall, though."

Mayer tilted his head. "It throws people off, sometimes."

Calhoun started talking and something involving radio waves and broadcast equipment. "Wade is the computer expert," Mayer said, bored.

"I'm sorry," Calhoun said. "We're a bit lacking in entertainment. What do you have in Detroit, for fun?" he asked.

Mayer's smile widened. "It's usually limited to doing what comes naturally."

Calhoun laughed, a patient little chuckle. "We haven't got enough women for that," he said.

"If you let them run around with the defiled, it's no wonder."

Calhoun was silent for a moment. "Why is it that you hate ghouls, so much?" he asked.

Mayer leaned forward. "I don't hate him," he said.

"You beat the man so badly he lost an arm," the black man stated.

"That is not a man!" Mayer said, nearly shouting. The others were staring at him again. He lowered his voice. "That is a demon, pretending to be an angel."

Calhoun looked stunned. As well he should be, Mayer thought. Mayer stood to his full height of six-foot-five and looked down on him. "You're letting that beast take the girl as his disciple. I can promise you this, when Sigma is done with this place, there will be a cleansing."

He walked away from the table, leaving the man to sit there, thoughtfully.

Feeling a bit more proud of herself, Celia hunted for food. She didn't know what to hunt―"Food" was all that Lionel had told her. But she was happy enough to make herself useful, and he'd promised to stay at the shack. She didn't know if he would, really.

She'd walked out into the wastes as far as she dared to, and looked for something shoot. She was remembering the story Lionel had told her, back at the shack. She knew she'd get a Pre-War story out of him, eventually. Not that it made much sense.

For the rest of the day she shot, and strung up a brace of, small creatures on the wasteland floor. Lionel had joked once that as long as you didn't know you were eating them, it really wasn't so bad. She tried not to think about it.

As she was making her way back to the shack, she literally ran across Angus. Literally, because he was hidden under a blanket and lying in some bushes she'd taken a shortcut through. The brace went flying and she tumbled headfirst into the dirt over his head. Before she realized what had even happened, he had risen from the ground. "You little shit!"

"What the heck, man!" she said, retrieving her game.

Angus grabbed her with his thickly gloved hands and kicked her in the shin again. "You must be the worst spy of all time," he growled. He started marching her back to Stockton.

"Let me go!" she said, fighting.

"Nope," he said. "You're just gonna have to come with me."

He practically dragged her to the town, muttering curses and stomping his feet. She had to take three steps for every two he made, even though he was the same height as she was.

After an exhausting trip over rocks and bushes that Angus barreled through, or over, they came to Stockton. He pulled her with one hand to the small office that comprised Calhoun's living quarters, and tossed her into the room. "Sit tight," he said, and shut the door.

She pulled her knife, and could hear him tromping away. She opened the door a peek, and noticed Calhoun was in his office, reading a book. She hesitated for a moment, then dashed across the hallway into Calhoun's office, shutting the door behind her.

"Hello," Calhoun said, looking over his book at her.

She moved to the desk, went behind it and sat down. "You gotta save me, Jack," she said.

He blinked at her. "What from?"

"Angus." She squeezed her legs into her chest and made herself as small as she could. "I was hunting and ran into him. He thinks I'm a spy."

"That's just ridiculous," Calhoun said. "You're not―" he stopped himself. The door to the office opened, and he put down his book. "Mr. Angus," he said. "How may I help you?"

"That girl," he growled.

"There are several girls here in town. I'm afraid I can't help you unless you tell me which one."

"Let me in," Mayer said. "You know which one, Calhoun. Don't spoil our pacific intentions over some silly kid."

"Celia might be silly, but she's certainly not a kid," Calhoun said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to lodge a complain with your commanding officer about the behavior you've exhibited lately, particularly towards Celia. My citizens do not warrant such unnecessary behavior, Mr. Mayer."

The soldiers were silent for a moment. "Very well," Mayer said, and Celia heard them leave.

After the door closed, Calhoun turned to her. "I think you should stay with Lionel, and not leave," he said.

"Gotta eat," she said.

"No, I don't like this," he said, rubbing his face. "They gave up too easily. Go back and don't come home until someone you can trust says it's okay."

She made a burbling laugh. "That's a very short list."

Calhoun fixed her with a look, and took her elbow, leading her up. "Be safe, Celia," he said, escorting her from the town. "Try to stay in one place."

She thought about it the whole way back to Lionel's shack, and by the time she got there, her knuckles were white and numb from clenching her fist.