\"Don\'t push your luck out here.\"

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Some swearing ahead.

Personal Report (Supplemental)
Guardian Hart Lawson
Fairfax-South, 2130, 08.14.77

No one on this base plays up my greenness more than Defender Rococo Rockfowl. After walking me out of almost serving myself on a plate to the denizens of Andale, he's taken to calling me 'Guardian Meatbrains'. Ha ha fucking ha. On top of that, he raids my locker for booze and sleeps in my bed in the topside-south storage closet when I get in late because his bunk is just too far to walk. Figures that's how I wound up thinking Andale was a good rest stop.

I should be grateful: he saved me at Andale and after I killed Harris and the Andale children to avoid a repeat of that incident, he backed down a little. Yet still I hate his smarmy, elitist guts. It's a given that for all his chickenshit, he's Casdin's all time favourite. Now the big man has me following Rockfowl on raids into Fairfax to learn the ins and outs of fighting in built-up, torn-down areas. At least when we go into DC, I'll get to see Olin and maybe get some advice from McGraw about how to get out of the doghouse Casdin's Outcasts have built around me.

All of this is making me want to stay with the Outcasts even more (and get the Army logos on my armor painted over with the Outcast insignia). McGraw - and to some extent, Casdin - is right: the Outcasts are dying out and if I can prove that a local can do as good a job as the same folk who arrived from California, we might last long enough for the Western Brotherhood to make contact.