Mayer, on duty at Golgotha, reviewed his orders one last time. He hadn't expected Sigma to be reactivated, after learning about Wade breaking conditioning. Wade wasn't listed as a team member, anymore. It wasn't surprising. Mayer hadn't liked the man very much.

He was disappointed. His dream of joining the church had been dashed, upon his return to Detroit. He'd been so angry at that, being made to walk along the corridors of Golgotha, to guard the entrance of the Sepulchre. He felt his resolve weakening. He was no longer as confident as he had been.

And that incident with Phaeton―

It was a debacle. He'd lost his composure, broken down, and cried. Phaeton, in real life, at the entrance of the Selpulchre, returning the girl to them. It had frightened him, immeasurably. He'd thought about self-termination. It made him doubt his conditioning. He hadn't gone to the Temple, yet.

Well, he thought, once Sigma walks the wastes again, I will not have to worry. No one will know.

Mayer met up with Angus and they joined Bradley at the flagpole near Detroit's gates. Bradley had given up his pistol and had a laser rifle on his shoulder, waiting patiently for his team to assemble.

"We are extremely long range," he told them. "As of now, Paramount Force Sigma is reactivated. Our target is the terrorist known as Phaeton."

Mayer started in surprise. Bradley noticed it, and Mayer felt himself color under his helmet.

"It isn't the real Phaeton, obviously," he said. "Some idiot with ideals, trying to take down Paramount. Thinks it will scare us silly."

"Well," Angus snorted. "It shouldn't be too hard to find one of the defiled around here."

Bradley turned his head with an audible snap to the short man. "Why do you assume that Phaeton is defiled?" he asked.

Angus shrugged. "No regular person would even try to pull off half the shit this person has. I saw the reports; who else would peel the skin from a live body?" He scoffed at the thought. "Probably jealous he ain't got his own skin."

"Angus, that is―" Mayer began.

"Excellent," Bradley interjected. "That is excellent." He looked to Mayer and Mayer felt a creepy sensation crawling on the bad of his neck. "It's a lead, we will follow."

"Sir, how could a ghoul even hide around here?" Mayer asked, doubtfully.

"With help from other terrorists," Bradley said. "Let's break for play, Sigma. Our target is that one-armed ghoul from Stockton."

Mayer inhaled sharply. "Sir?"

"Listen," Bradley said, double checking his rifle, "the Phaeton terrorist has issued four challenges to Control. Each time, he has requested that Control send me to meet him. I don't know of any other ghoul who would have a personal vendetta against myself." Bradley looked to the flag of Paramount flying above their heads. "Dead ball, Sigma."

She felt strange. Trapped, maybe. Time seemed to pass very slow, but sometimes it would speed up too much and she felt her head spin. Everything was blurred, like the world was a dream she floated through. She slept, she ate, she walked, and felt―she felt what she was told to feel. She spoke when she was told to speak, and danced when she was told to dance. She sang, and her mind did not know where the words came from, only that they were there.

Echo clapped her hands and smiled at Eve, her bright eyes watching her. That was her name. Eve.

"Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh," he said to her. "Cleave unto me."

He was called Adam. She knew this was his name. He'd told her so. She obeyed, his words a forever tattoo on her brain. Every command she could recall with perfect clarity, even as the world fuzzed around her like she was sinking into deep waters.

Others came, and went. She was told to obey, and she did; the smile on Adam's face became a permanent fixture as she did what she was expected to do. She could see the strange smiles, the concern, on the faces of the others, the robed men and the soldiers in power armor who came to the bower. She felt a strain, a thin thread beginning to pull too tightly, in the back of her mind.

In the emptiness of her person, unfilled by her voice and soul, nothing waited.

The world was changing around him, fluidly. Bright lights and dark waters swirling in his eyes when he opened them, and he was confused. He felt himself floating in water, saw the surface moving further away. He opened his mouth and nothing came out. There was no air in his lungs.

He felt naked feet touch the bottom, and he kicked upwards toward the lights. Two arms pulled him, strong legs kicked. He saw his skin, his own skin―he stopped, and floated in the water, felt the firmness of the skin, the hair on his arms. He laughed soundlessly, spun around in the water, and felt his head.

Still bald. He checked his other parts, and cried in joy to be whole again. The tears fell down into the darkness below him.

The lights were still there. He wondered if he should go to them. Lazily, he let the water hold him, and began to sink again. He drifted downward for ages, until the lights were almost entirely faded.

Lionel jerked when a hand touched him. He looked, and it was Celia, floating with him in the water. They embraced, he felt her skin with his lips, and felt movement in places that hadn't moved in over a century. It was strong. He gripped her too hard, and she cried out.

And he could not stop, even if he wanted to. She struggled against him, but he could not stop, couldn't do anything but that―

Celia sobbed in the darkness, and they sunk like a stone. Her tears fell up and away, toward the lights. There were so many tears...

He was suddenly awake in a deep darkness. A cellar, of some kind. The darkness wasn't an issue, but he didn't know how he'd gotten there, or even where he was. He wasn't in pain. He felt strange.

He remembered the dream, and hung his head in shame. The radiation was becoming like a drug to him. He couldn't afford to use it anymore. It would only destroy him.

Lionel pushed himself upward off a pile of rubble and was vaguely aware of an uncomfortable stiffness where he would never have expected it.

Goddammit!

He punched out and connected with a hard-packed earth wall. His hand bounced and skipped down the dirt, and he fell onto it, pressing his forehead into the wall. He laughed, a manic, unstoppable laugh, and sat down with his back to the wall. He was so fucked.

A door opened. Light spilled into the cellar and Lionel shielded his eyes against it, standing. Someone came into the room. "Who―" the someone said, and he relaxed.

"Jeremiah," he rasped.

"Phaeton. Damn, when the hell did you get here?"

Lionel shrugged. Jeremiah invited him up into the house, but he chose to remain a while longer in the darkness.

"Who's here?" Lionel asked.

"Todd and me, Roger. Couple others. Sue and Jesse went north, after the boy got shot. Who knows where they went."

"Alive?"

Jeremiah snorted. "That boy is too dramatic. He might be a whiny crybaby but I doubt he'll die."

Lionel nodded, and waved the man off. He sat in the darkness a while longer, then creakily got up and went upstairs.

The look on his face must have been especially terrifying. One of the women scuttled away at his arrival, making a small scared noise. He ignored it. "Kelley," he said.

"Yeah?" the man called, from another room. Lionel went to him. It was a decent-sized house, two stories and mostly intact. Lionel was reminded of the home he'd grown up in. He didn't know how Jeremiah and Kelley managed to find it, but he was grateful they had somewhere to hide.

"Everyone here but Jesse and Sue?" he asked Kelley. Kelley gave him a head count, reaffirming Jeremiah's estimate. Three down, still strong.

"There's soldiers all over the place, now," Kelley said. "One of the girls says the ones down the street were telling people that Sigma is on the way. Is that important?"

Lionel clenched his fist and grinned in a sickly way. "Bradley," he said. "Good."

Kelley started. "Oh, fuck," he said. "We're dead."

"Find Roger, go blow something up," Lionel told him.

"You want Sigma to find us?"

"They'll find us one way or another. We'll meet them halfway."

Kelley looked a little scared of the prospect. "Taking down one of the special forces will definitely get us on Paramount's must-kill list." He considered for a moment. "Listen, some of the others want to go home."

Lionel turned, gestured at a door.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that was what you'd say." Kelley stood and held out a hand. "I'm with you, Phaeton. All the way."

Lionel looked down at the man's hand and grasped it, shaking firmly. "Thank you, Kelley."

He went to the supplies and reloaded his revolver, and found a better knife to stick into his boot than the dulled one he'd had before. The revolver was between his thighs and he was slipping bullets into the chamber when he heard Jesse's voice come through the walls of the house.

"Stoooop," he whined.

"Shut. Up!" Sue was saying.

They entered the house, both laughing at each other. Jesse immediately lost his grin when he saw Lionel, who flipped his revolver shut and holstered it. "Hey, man," he said. "Did everyone make it out?"

"Not Sandoval," Lionel grunted.

Jesse nodded. "Tough break."

Lionel looked at the kid. "You ready?"

"What's up?"

He went to the door and opened it, stepping outside into the dark light of morning. Jesse followed him with an exclamation and had to skip-jog to keep with him.

"Are you crazy, man?!"

"Phaeton has to walk," Lionel said, stubbornly. At this point he didn't care if he got shot. It was a lost cause. He would die here, probably at the hands of Bradley. He'd never see her again.

"You're gonna get shot," Jesse called. Lionel shrugged. "Well, shit!"

The ghoul strode through Flat Rock, ignoring the shouts, fearful running and slamming doors. Flat Rock was smaller than Pontiac, but there were still quite a few people around. Some gathered at the edges of buildings, peeking out at the sight, others held shaking weapons on him. One foolish boy got in his way, but he didn't stop, just walked right into him and forced him to move. He walked until he reached the tower, and headed for the door.

"What are you doing?" Sue yelled. "You can't just―" She went to Jesse's side. "Stop him, Jesse!"

Lionel heard the kid sigh. Jesse reached out and put a hand on his arm, gently. "Lionel," he said. "Listen, if you die now, what will happen to her?"

Lionel looked at the kid. Until this point, the illusion had been maintained, and he'd felt more like a monster than he'd ever felt before. The kid was right. If he died, and Celia was still alive somewhere in that black nightmare, she might never get free. But, he thought, the ball is rolling, and until it meets opposite or equal force, it cannot be stopped. Newton's law.

There was no reason for him not to meet Sigma.

"I'm already dead, kid," he said, tiredly.

He opened the door.