Raquel’s Trade

Chapter 15: The Shadow, Part One

6:07 am

Monday

Eddie kept his Providence office in the last place anyone would suspect of looking; the basement of a pastry shop on Federal Hill. Its furnishings befitted a temporary office: a desk with a leather armchair, slightly less comfortable chairs for guests, and a water cooler.  His own cell-phone served as a way to contact him while he was here and the office computer had a foolproof disguise as a laptop that he took with him when he left. Eddie liked the neighborhood; it reminded him, with its numerous eateries, of his native New Orleans. Eddie cooked his own meals whenever possible and even at times that it wasn’t, but just to have such culinary wealth close by put a smile on his face.

Right, now, going over Jaleel’s reports, he sure felt like he could use a smile. While he was away a lich, bold as brass, marches into Providence, and then the Whites had to help Morgan stop a dimensional incursion in Boston! On top of everything, Raquel had vanished for a couple of days and then reappeared with no indication as to where she had gone! What a full-bore unmitigated fuck-up. Eddie massaged his temples.  Her disappearing permanently due to a White mistake would have been an instant win, but the bulldog saw that as a bad thing.  More and more, he’d come to believe the Contest of the Guide was a distraction.  Raquel was the Game and the prize, and he meant to win both.

There was a knock on his door.  Eddie looked up at it, or rather through it and recognized Yasika’s life-force. He couldn’t resist a smile, wondering if she’d figured how he’d first sniffed her out.  Probably not - Native Avalonians were living proof that living several centuries was no cure for stupidity. “Come on in.”

A tall male weasel wearing a blue fanny pack, sweats and sneakers entered, scowling. “How do you keep picking me out like that?  I’ve never met a necro I couldn’t fool!”

Eddie leaned back in his chair and put his feet up. “They ain’t been me, darlin’.” He grinned. “So, where were you this past weekend?”

Yaskia closed the door and shifted into her Kitsune form. “I was on Avalon.”  The scowled deepened. “One of my contacts told me a certain elderly black cat’s been poking around old libraries.”

“Patricia?” Eddie asked.  The Kitsune nodded.  “Well now, ain’t that all sorts o’ interestin’? I hear Phaeron’s got a huge one.  Wonder why she just didn’t poke through it?”

“I thought the same thing,” Yaskia agreed, “so I followed her around for a couple of days. She visited the Theatre of Words in Hieropolis, Aratrus’ private library in G’Henna, and the Royal Library in Saqqa.  Whatever she was looking for went over my head.”

Patricia, ya sneaky so-and-so, Eddie marveled. Those three locations didn’t mean much - unless you knew they were contact points for The Hidden Veil, a super-secret magic society dedicated to putting the kibosh on necromancers who saw souls and the undead as commodities.  He’d worked with Lethe - the founder and leader - on more than one occasion, and they got along quite well.  “Any chance she made you?”

“You know Patricia -- she would have done something about it.” The Kitsune smiled. “Trip wasn’t a total loss, though.  I came across some Draconian scrolls; dealer said they were about three thousand years old.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow.  “You can confirm this?”

“One of the scrolls has a Spirit Guardian on it,” Yaskia shrugged.  “I figured you could talk to it and find out; if it’s not, the bastard owes me pretty gold-pence.”  She reached into her fanny pack and drew out a thick scroll that couldn’t have possibly fit inside, then another, and then a third. “Here you go.”

Eddie peered at the scrolls with his Spirit Vision; a tattered, grayish sheet appeared, bound to one of the scrolls by gossamer strands.  “Sorry, looks like you ain’t getting a refund,” he told her.  “I need ya ta stick close ta Raquel and her friends today.  They may have gotten somethin’ from our visitor. I got a bit of info from the graveyard ‘bout our guest.  I want more’n a bit, in case she comes back.  Gal’s got no clue how things work here, and I don’t want her findin’ out the hard way.”

“Or anyone else for that matter.”  Yaskia shifted back into her male form.  “Careful; I heard she kicked butt and took names.”

Eddie heard the same thing; then again, beating Yolanda wasn’t exactly a test of one’s power.  He also wouldn’t put it past horn-head to throw a fight. “Darlin, you should now by now I always got one eye open behind me.”

For just a brief second, a look of real dislike passed over her face, but it was gone just as quickly.  Eddie pretended not to notice.  “I do indeed,” Yaskia replied with a small grin before she left.

The Lord of Black watched her go, wondering when, not if, she was going to try something stupid enough that he would have no choice but to off her.  He hoped it was after Xendaen had been located, which might not take long -- he had one or two suspicions.  The problem was he needed to be right; Eddie knew he’d get one shot to entice her and if he blew it he was probably dead.  As a reincarnate the Dark Minstrel would in theory be vulnerable to his tricks, but there was no way he’d take it as a given.

Well, there was time to worry about potential futures alter.  Eddie took the scroll with the Spirit Guardian attached to it.  The wretched thing lashed out at him but didn’t even come close to breaking his shields; Eddie felt a surge of real pity for the poor creature.  Reaching into his desk, he took out a small bag.  He drew out a pinch of the coarse white grains and sprinkled it on the poor thing. “Remember,” he commanded.

Fueled by the power of Eddie’s enchanted sea-salt, the spirit began to convulse as its raggedy body gained substance.  Two arms formed, two legs, the sexless torso gained bumps and curves; its rough feet transformed into hooves as delicate scales crept along its spectral skin, and a horn curved out of its skull.  The spirit dropped to its knees in the throes of its reformation; when it raised its head, reptilian eyes gazed at him blearily.  Eddie resisted the urge to do a jig – this was a Kirin, sure as shit, torn from her body if he was any judge.  Only Dragons would have had access to a Kirin to rip a soul out of, and only during the First Dragon-Army three thousand years ago.  “Take it easy, he soothed.  “Your imprisonment is over, my Lady.”

“Is it?”  She demanded of him harshly.

“You can sense the Door as well as I can,” Eddie replied.  “If you don’t believe me, step through it and out of anyone’s reach.”

The Kirin stared at a spot beyond his shoulder with a look of wonder on her face.  “I could,” she whispered.  “It has been so long…”  Her gaze reoriented on Eddie, expression hardening.  “I cannot go.”

“Unfinished business, eh?” Eddie replied.  “Must be pretty important; were you married?  Did you have kids?”  She flinched.  “I could check beyond the veil and see if they’ve passed on, but you’n I know they’re probably not that lucky.  Best they can hope for is to be haunting the city as ragged ghosts, not remembering who their mommy was.  It’d take a powerful necromancer like meself ta help ‘em.”

“You’re a fool if you think you can survive the trip,” she snarled.

Eddie reached into his desk and brought out a cigar.  “Darlin’, I’m Lord of the Black.” One fingertip glowed; he touched it to the end, bit the end off, and puffed.  “I’m many things, but a fool ain’t one of ‘em.  And right now, I’m the only shot you got.  So, do ya know the way ta the ruined city of Xianyang or not?  I promise I’ll free your children so they can join their mother in Raiden’s City.”

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“You don’t.  Not really. Any oath I make can be broken.” Eddie blew a smoke ring and leaned forward. “But if you decide the answer’s no, hey I don’t hold grudges.  Feel free ta wander for all of eternity.”

The spirit glared at him so hard that if possible, he would have burst into flame. “It appears,” she said slowly and deliberately, “that we have a deal.”

Eddie nodded and fetched out a pocket recorder from his desk. Ordinarily, mechanical devices could not record spirits either visually or audibly, but this one had some extras he’d put on it to do just that. The bulldog kept his face serious, but one word danced across his mind as she began: jackpot.

Providence Police Department

325 Washington Street

Providence, RI

7:54 am

Monday

Welcome to the third worst day of Kayleigh’s life.

Today is the day she finds herself sitting in Captain Killeough’s, telling him she can’t be a cop any more. With Vicki’s death, she has nothing left.  She jumps at everything, she’s irritable – she just can’t be trusted in a policefur’s uniform anymore.

She tells him this lie with a straight face, because the truth of the matter is that Vicki has been raised from the dead and is currently sharing her body.  He wouldn’t believe this truth even though she – or rather, they – are sitting right in front of his desk.  For whatever reason, people either don’t notice their conjoinment, and don’t even recognize Vicki.  Killeough’s met the mink several times, he came to her funeral, and yet he asked Kayleigh who she was when she walked through the door. (“A friend of Raquel’s, here for moral support, since Raquel couldn’t get the time off.”) 

This is the real reason she had to quit; clearly, the Societies aren’t done screwing around with her life and she doesn’t want anyone else caught in the crossfire.

Killeough’s gazes at her sadly.  “I can put you on administrative leave,” he tells her.  A pen is ready in his right hand to scribble on the necessary paperwork.  “You can come back when you’re feeling better.”

“I can never go back,” Kayleigh replies truthfully, “I…”  Her voice broke.  Damn it, she told herself she wouldn’t let that happen and here she is, ready to bawl.  “My oaths sound like lies to me.”  Better; her voice sounds even.  “I pick up my gun and I shake.  I’ve got nothing left in me, Captain.”

“Take two weeks,” he begs.  “Fuck that, take a month.  Get some psychiatric help.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” Vicki says thoughtfully.  Before she can react, the mink presses on.  “I mean, I don’t think Vicki would want you to throw away your career so quickly on her account.  I know I sure wouldn’t if I was her.”

“Consider it done.” Killeough’s looks relieved.  “I’ll have HR send you the paperwork.”

“Great,” Vicki enthused.

Kayleigh works her jaw a few times before responding.   “You can’t hold my job open forever, Captain.  It’s not fair.”

“I can hold it long enough for you to get your head together,” the fox insisted.  “I need all the good cops I can get.”

“Damn straight,” Vicki agreed.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you two worked this out beforehand,” the husky mutters.

“She found us out,” Vicki whispered to Killeough’s.

He grinned.  “Just don’t tell my wife.”

Kayleigh gives up; it’s hard to keep an argument going when you don’t want to win. “Fine, I surrender.”  She took her bade out of the pocket on her side and extended it.  “Not goodbye then – for now.”

The captain took it from her.  “I’ll keep her safe,” he said gravely.

The look on his face, the way he cradled her badge, almost make Kayleigh burst into tears.  She loves being a cop and it /hurts/ to give it up.  She’s grateful to both Killeough’s and Vicki for trying, but unless something dramatically changes, her days in blue are over.  “T..thank you, Captain.”  “Her voice wobbles slightly.  Killeough’s stood and wordlessly extended his hand.  Kayleigh tensed her foot on the floor; Vicki took the silent hint and they stood up as well.  She takes his hand in hers and shook it gravely.  Her throat constricts.  “I’ve…I’ve got to go home,” she manages.  “I’ve got some people I need to arrange to see.”

The fox nods.  “I understand.  Well, I won’t keep you any longer then.  Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” she lies.

*                              *                              *                              *                              *                              *                             

High above, keen eyes watched as the conjoined pair left the police station.  Viris had no worries about being spotted -- he hovered almost a mile up, and wore an Invisibility Ring -- his worries were a little more complex.  For one, the fact that no one seemed to notice a conjoined Husky and mink walking, talking to each other, hailing a cab – that was a big worry.  Who cast that Spell of Normal Seeming on them?  Not the Whites; someone would have admitted it.  The Blacks certainly wouldn’t have either.  Viris didn’t care what DeSoie claimed, the man was the leader of a group of Chaos-worshippers – it was their nature to be undependable and therefore unreliable. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense: the only one who would have cast such a spell would have been Xendaen whose plans were wheels within wheels of subtlety.  Seven Hells, where was she?  It was maddening, having to wait for her to show up, but all his leads on tracking her down weren’t just cold, they were downright arctic.

Viris ruffled his feathers and again bent his attention to the conjoined pair; a cab slid up to the curb and they got in.  He felt sorry for Vicki; Kayleigh should have had the decency to grant her love the boon of death two years ago.  Honestly, some furs had no morals.  Not for the first time, he considered dive-bombing the pair and killing them both except it would mean severe repercussions for the White.

The griffin clucked his beak in self-annoyance.  Brooding was unbecoming a warrior, and he still had much to do.  He flexed his wings, ready to take off after the cab.

*Lord Viris,* a fem voice said in his head

Viris touched the amulet around his neck.  *What is it, Deliah?*

*The safe house on 12^th Street has been attacked, my Lord.  It…it’s Rakshasa.*

Deliah was the type of Pegasus who, if she wasn’t sure the sun was shining, wouldn’t say so without checking a window first. *Is anyone near the Providence police station?*

*No, my Lord.*

Viris didn’t know why he even bothered asking.  Of course there was no one to take up the task of following the conjoined pair -- and Rakshasa was far too dangerous not to track down.  Once again, Raquel and her friends received a lucky break.  *On my way.* He banked right and sped off.  Despite the annoyance of yet another interruption in the Raquel case, he was excited.  Viris had bee wanting to run up against Rakshasa ever since the man’s debut in London ten years ago.

Perhaps this time, he’d get lucky.

Blue Chip Industries

Downtown Providence

12:02 pm

Monday

Reason #152 that having two heads was simply the greatest thing since Steak-Umms came out with shaved zebra; Raquel could  type up a difficult project and talk on the phone at the same time.  “So, you two had a fight after leaving the station,” the tigress snorted.

“Just a little one,” Vicki insisted. “We made up afterwards.  Oh, for the record, it looks like Kayleigh is as flexible as your average mink.”

Raquel was very curious to hear the detail on how that was determined, but such chatter was Inappropriate For Work.  “Good for you two.  So, want me to bring home some KFC on the way home from work?”

“Actually, we were hoping to meet you for lunch,” Vicki replied.

There was a mental giggle.  **We’d be late getting back.**

**I know,** Raquel sighed.  She still wasn’t sure what to call this…this…well, she didn’t have a name for it.  Her.  Whatever.  “Not a good idea today; as it is, I’ll be eating at my desk.”  It wasn’t even a lie.   “I’ll give you two a call later.  In the meantime, it looks like it’s a nice day, get some exercise.”

Somehow, Vicki managed to make the sound of licking her lips sensually audible.  “What do you think we’ve been doing?”  Kayleigh’s giggle was clearly audible.

“Oh, high-larious,” Raquel snorted.  “I meant go out; jog, join a fitness club -- that sort of exercise.”

“Well, you should be more specific,” Vicki chided.

Raquel’s working head saw Jessica sauntering up to her desk.  “My Lazy Sense detects more work coming my way.  Call you two back later, okay?”

Vicki blew her a kiss.  “Give ‘em what-for.  Love you.”

Raquel blew a kiss back and hung up.  “Hey there,” she smiled.  In the past, she and Jessica had been only on neutral terms, but after Raquel’s change in look they seemed to hit it off.  “You’ve got the look of someone about to give me a heads-ache.”

The vixen leaned forward.  “Want to go and grab a bite?”

“Hey, if I blew off a hot lunch date because of work, what do you think your chances are?”

She leaned in closer still.  “All work and no play…” Her voice dropped.  A certain fem raccoon’s been talking to her union rep, and guess who name she mentioned?”

“Aw, shit.”  Raquel’s relationship with Kristen, however, had dived into the toilet and then some.  “This is the last thing I need.”

“I don’t want to go over details here,” she murmured. “Too many ears.” Her voice rose to a normal tone. “C’mon, Raquel, the mountain of paperwork will still be there when you get back.”

“I guess,” the tigress replied.  She wasn’t sure if she should be looking forward to the conversation or not.

*                              *                              *                              *                              *                              *                             

Yasika, now safely disguised in her Jessica persona, had thought long and hard about her next step before approaching the tigress; Raquel and her friends needed to be convinced that neither Society would make for good friends or allies, and there was one course of action which occurred. It possessed the highest chance for gain, but also held the highest chance for disaster. Perhaps it was the risk element that helped her decide. Kitsune were known for taking chances, because chances gave life zest.  So, events saw Jessica leading Raquel to the disguised kitsune’s car with the promise of revealing office gossip aimed at the tigress herself.  The amusing thing about the tale was that Jessica wasn’t even lying.  The exaggeration came from the fact that, much to her shock, few believed. Jessica knew how furples thought; gossip was a tasty confection, gobbled up in prodigious quantities.  Plus, in this case an Empathy specialist seemed to be the instigator of the tales, so the predictable public reaction should have been even more pronounced. Oh sure, at first there’d been an upswing of wagging tongues, but as fast as the murmuring began they seemed to end – and she hadn’t the slightest idea why.

“A Saturn?” Raquel inspected the beige, beat-up car briefly.  “I would have pegged you for a Subaru fem.”

“Hey, these days it’s all about the mileage,” Jessica told her as she unlocked it.  “I’d have grabbed a Pruiss if I could have afforded one.”

The two fems got in.  “Okay,” Raquel murmured as soon as she closed her door.  “What rumors are being spread about me?”

Jessica went for the throat.  “It’s not what’s being said, but how, someone’s using magic to make people want to believe.”

Raquel stiffened. “Fuck me twice.”  She skewered Jessica with both emerald gazes. “I never would have guessed.”

Jessica had been given the same sort of stare Raquel was leveling at her on numerous occasions -- the thoughtful look of someone deciding if they were going to let you live.  The effectiveness of the gaze varied from giver to giver, surprisingly, Jessica found Raquel’s version to be in a class by itself and then some. The Kitsune seriously believed if she didn’t say exactly the right thing, the chances of her walking away from this alive were zero. She steadied herself, met the gaze of the tigress’ left head, crossed her wrists and said gravely, “the chains I wear are Black.”

Raquel relaxed slightly.  “That’s an interesting way of putting it.”

Jessica snorted. “You think they gave me a choice about joining up? The only difference between the Societies’ recruiting techniques is that the Whites keep the velvet glove on and for the Blacks, its steel all the way.”

“And I should believe you because…?” Raquel left it hanging.

“If you’re talking about the rumors, that’s easy,” Jessica shrugged.  “There’s a dozen ways a clever kitty like you could sniff out the truth.  As for the latter, come on – how much choice were you given?”

“Point,” the tigress conceded.  “Alright then, Jessica, why are you coming to me with this?”

Jessica’s ears flattened against her skull in what was only partially an act.  “I despise both Societies, and you’re in a unique position to hurt them right where they live. I want to help.”

“I can accept that,” Raquel replied.  “So, what other help are you willing to give?”

“If I can supply it, you’ll get it.”

Raquel started ticking off fingers. “I want information about the Whites, Blacks, and any other organizations that are out there.  I want to know what the Lord of Black is planning about me.  I want to know about Avalon.  That’s just for starters.”

“I’ll try to winkle out what Lord DeSoie’s got up his sleeve, but I’m not exactly a close confidant.  As for the rest….what are you and your friends doing about eight o’clock tonight?  I can go over your place and tell everyone at once.”

Raquel seemed to think about it.  “Give me a call about 7:30 pm.”  She fished in her purse and came up with a business card.  “Here.”

Jessica resisted making a joke and pocketed it.  “Thanks.  So, where did you want to go for lunch?’

“Excuse me?”

Jessica put on her best innocent expression.  “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

Raquel barked a stereo laugh.  “You’re impossible!”

The image of the tigress’ mouths working in stereo briefly made Jessica jealous of Kayleigh. “True, but remember that some of the people in the office certainly saw us leave together. So, unless you feel like adding to the gossip spreading around…”

Raquel grimaced.  “There is that. I take it whoever’s behind this isn’t a Black.”

“I don’t think so,” Jessica admitted.  “Look, I don’t know how much exposure you’ve had to the Whites, but don’t trust them any more than the Blacks, okay? And whatever you do, don’t trust your status as the Guide!  You are seriously screwing with a lot of money, power and prestige – don’t think for one second that someone may do something you’ll regret.  So what if he pays for it later?  It’s still after you or someone you care for has gotten whacked -- and nothing says anyone’s under an obligation to perform resurrections. Get me?”

Raquel listened impassively.  Perhaps it was a trick of the dim lighting in the parking garage, but it seemed to grow very dark in the car’s interior.  “I think I do,” the tigress replied quietly

“Good. Remember, the last person who tried to buck the system was killed by the Lord of White himself,” Jessica pointed out; both sets of Raquel’s eyes narrowed as the point struck home.  “Let’s table this conversation for when I need up with your friends.  We need to get something to eat and then get back before our breaks are over, else that’ll be one more tale being spread.”

“Okay,” Raquel surrendered. “Lunch it is – but I swear if you start chatting away about something inane, I’ll bite you.”

Jessica leered. “Promise?”

1:42 pm

“Okay,” Raquel surrendered. “Lunch it is – but I swear if you start chatting away about something inane, I’ll bite you.”

Jessica leered. “Promise?”

Eddie propped his feet up on the coffee-table in his nondescript, no-frills apartment in Providence and stared at the crystal ball held in one hand as it dutifully sputtered out the two-hours old conversation.  He could afford the spells require to create a permanent Gate between here and his palatial mansion in Louisiana, but such a thing ad as many risks as advantages, so for now he went home only on the weekends.  A brief pang of guilt shot through him at leaving Orchid for such great stresses, but it was his position that had not only been responsible for her initial rescue, but saw to her continued protection.  Many would be extremely interested in acquiring something Lashair had put so much effort in – for a variety of reasons.

Eddie shook his head, putting those thoughts aside for the moment; Yasika had done exactly as he was afraid she would.  Her car was shielded against all sorts of scrying spells of course – the Kitsune had come by her reputation as a rune/ward/glyphcaster honestly – but none of them protected against a sophisticated bug.  The receiver was in another room, pointed at the crystal he was now holding.  “Yasika, you’re a stupid cunt, shore ‘nuff,” he drawled, lapsing into his native Nawlins accent.  How long could he afford to pretend he wasn’t aware of this? 

Not long, that’s for damned sure. 

The bulldog stood up and stretched.  Had he been around…but of course, he’d been busy recording every word a three-thousand-plus year-old spirit had been telling him of Xianyang’s location.  Recording, and asking her a lot of questions. It had been the score of a lifetime – if one ignored Raquel, that is.  It didn’t escape him that Yasika’s little distraction, through sheer bullshit luck, had proven to be more effective than he was sure she suspected.  Eddie stumped over to his fringe, pulled out Guinness and frosted mug, and poured.  The repetitive action of preparing food helped him focus as always.  When he first stumbled upon a shard of Midnight Tears, Xendaen’s legendary Instrument, his first thought had been to kill Yasika.  Only the fear – he freely admitted to being afraid of the Dark Minstrel, since only a fool didn’t fear her, even centuries dead – of Xendaen finding out stayed the executioner’s blade.  Now, with her reborn, and ascendancy becoming more and more certain each day, he didn’t dare risk it.

So, Eddie thought to himself, here’s a fine damned mess.  How do I get myself out of it?

He went back into his living room to drink, and think.

He almost dropped his damned mug when he saw who was waiting for him.

The figure had the body of a lion, toned and taut -- except the race of the furson was certainly not leonine; not with the face and head of an ibis.  For fashion, his choice was disturbingly mundane – running sneakers, jogging shorts, and a short unadorned white t-shirt.  Eddie couldn’t help but note that the figure’s attire was perfectly suited for someone who needed to be fast on his feet…which made it even more perfectly suited for the Egyptian Messenger of the Gods. “Magnificent Djehuty,” Eddie said, starting to genuflect.

“No need to kneel on my account,” the figure told him cheerily.  “And I’ve said to you before, feel free to call me by my Greek name.”

“Thank you, Lord Thoth,” Eddie bowed. “Can I get you some rice wine?”

“I’d love some, but I have a tight schedule.” The celestial entity straightened and cleared its throat.  “Another has approached the Secret Temple, to walk the Valley of the Shadows,” he boomed in a much more serious tone.  “As per our agreement, I stand ready to convey thee hence, it thou wish it.”

Fuck; he couldn’t pass this up.  Once again, Raquel’s luck extended to Yasika.  “I do, My Lord,” he replied, congratulating himself on saving a certain Carnival Krewe from bankruptcy in the past.  “May I ask who chooses to walk the Valley?”

“Greg Xiao-Phong,” Thoth replied.

Fuck twice; what did that White think he was doing?  It required a Master level talent, minimum, to even survive the Walk, let alone complete it!  There’s no way Phaeron would have allowed this, Eddie thought, unless he was sure Greg had a chance of success. “May I be permitted time to don appropriate garments before departure?”

“You shall be garbed suitably upon arrival,” Thoth answered.

Fuck thrice -- with a red-hot poker.  No less than Ra Himself would be picking his attire.  Whatever was going on was Serious Business.  He didn’t know what Greg was up to, but he hoped the Siamese had SCUBA gear to breathe through the amount of shit landing his way if this blew up.  The splatter factor alone would most likely be impressive. “In that case, I stand ready, O Messenger.”

There was a flash.  Seconds later, the apartment stood empty.

TO BE CONTINUED