Knocking on the Devil's Door

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the WWE or Ring of Honor! Just any OCs! Nor do I own the movie this story was inspired by. That belongs to John Singleton and his crew, as does the quote in the summary. And the lyrics used here belong to Against Me!.

Summary: AU. "You keep knocking on the Devil's door long enough, and sooner or later, somebody's gonna answer you." They were considered to be four hopeless cases, but they were each given a second chance by one woman's kindness. When the one person who ever cared about them is killed in a seemingly random hold-up, family proves to be thicker than blood as these four brothers search for the answers to their mother's murder.

Characters: CM Punk, Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins/Tyler Black, Jimmy Jacobs, Vickie Guerrero, Chris Jericho, Roman Reigns, Wade Barrett, Lacey, Rosa Mendes, others and OCs featured

Pairings: Seth Rollins/Lacey, Dean Ambrose/Rosa Mendes, Jimmy Jacobs/OC, AJ Lee/OC, BJ Whitmer/Daizee Haze, John Cena/Nikki Bella, implied past Edge/Vickie Guerrero

Rating: M for language, mild crude humor, alcohol and drug use, violence, and character death

Genre: Action/Drama

Author's Note: Hi, guys! So, this story has actually been in the works for a good two years or so, but it never really got anywhere due to having a hard time finding the perfect four guys to be the leading characters. After much trial and error with different combinations, I finally found the golden quartet, and this story finally got off the ground. This little story is based on the movie "Four Brothers," which is one of my favorites, and will follow the general storyline of the movie (so, if you've seen it, no spoilers in reviews, please! Lol) along with my own little twists and flair added in throughout so it's not exactly the same. The characters listed above are the ones taking on main roles from the movie, but there will be plenty more throughout taking on other supporting roles. Just a quick note, I'm a major independent wrestling fan (I prefer it, actually), so a few of my favorites from that circuit will be spotted throughout this story, but there is also a strong WWE influence. This story is co-written with Cinnamon Muffin Punk, a good buddy of mine, and we've been able to put our heads together to form a lot of neat things for it! I wanted to get this up in time for the holidays, since even though it's not really major in the prologue, this, at least somewhat, is a Thanksgiving-based story, at least in the beginning. So, with all that said, enjoy and Happy Holidays! :)

"I was a teenage anarchist

Looking for a revolution

I had the style, I had the ambition

Read all the authors, I knew the right slogans

There was no war but the class war

I was ready to set the world on fire

I was a teenage anarchist

Looking for a revolution..."

–Against Me!, "I Was a Teenage Anarchist"

Prologue– Four Delinquents So Far Gone

The black-haired teenager pushed open the window of his two-story bedroom, poking his head out to look around at the still night. Aside from the typical bright lights and loud sounds of downtown Chicago not too far in the distance, all was quiet.

It was exactly what he had hoped for.

Smirking, the sixteen-year-old swiftly climbed through the window and perched carefully on the slanted roof until he gained his balance, lightly chewing on the piercing in his bottom lip as he looked around to make sure he wouldn't be seen before he scaled down the tiled surface and jumped to the freshly cut lawn below. He rolled when he landed, brushing off his tattered jeans and black sweater once he stood and making sure the hood still covered his head before he started to quickly make his way toward the dimly-lit sidewalk.

He was nearly there.

"Phillip Jack Brooks!"

Startled, Phil abruptly stopped and turned to look over his shoulder, his brow furrowing nervously when he saw the petite woman with shoulder-length, curly brown hair standing in the doorway of the interior porch with her hands resting on her hips. "What in the world do you think you're doing, young man?" she demanded. "Get back inside this instant!"

Sighing, Phil completely turned to face the woman. "But, Ma–!"

"Now!" The woman started to tap her foot impatiently.

Knowing he didn't stand a chance, Phil hung his head and shuffled his feet slightly as he slowly made his way back across the lawn and trudged up the four porch steps to where Vickie Guerrero was waiting for him. He paused when she crossed her arms, and even though he was taller than she was, she still managed to appear very intimidating.

Smiling sweetly at the teenager as she shut the porch door, Vickie reached up and lowered the hood of his sweater, revealing his dark hair that was pulled back in a short ponytail behind his head. Her eyes quickly scanned over the light bruise that still lingered over his left hazel eye, and she sighed quietly as she patted him on the back. "Go on in," she muttered.

Phil nodded as he walked through the front door, Vickie following along behind him as she shut it again behind them. "How did you know I was leaving?" he asked quietly, arching an eyebrow when he turned to face the woman while he slipped his shoes off and left them by the other three pairs of tennis shoes on a brightly-colored mat.

"I think I know you well enough by now, Phil," Vickie answered, leaving her black dress shoes near his. "You've been living under this roof for five years now. Besides, I know you're still harboring resentment for when you and that Cena boy got into a fight at school last week... again."

Chuckling, Phil lightly touched the bruise he had gotten when the other teen's elbow had come in contact with his eye during their physical altercation. "Ah, he had it coming, Ma," he muttered. "He looked at me funny. Colby can tell ya!"

Sighing, Vickie crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I don't care who saw it, Phil," she told him. "You can't start throwing punches for every little thing someone else does. I hope you learn sometime that it never solves anything."

When she saw him lower his gaze, Vickie slowly dropped her arms to her sides again. She hadn't fully known just what she was getting herself into when she had brought the then eleven-year-old boy into her house. She had been an active part in the foster care system for nearly twenty years after her husband passed away, helping to make sure homeless or orphaned children in the Chicago area had a place to stay with a caring family since she didn't have any children of her own. She never turned an underprivileged child away when they came to her door in need of a hot meal or a spare t-shirt or a warm coat for winter, knowing that they could come to her for those necessities. But in all of her years working with the system, never did she imagine that she would bring a child into her own home.

At least, that was before she had encountered the case of Phil Brooks.

Phil hadn't been a bad child at his core, and she knew that somewhere deep down, he still had a good heart now. In her view, he had simply been a victim of circumstance, having been in and out of a little over ten foster homes by the time she had gotten to him. He had entered the system when he had been at the tender age of six after his alcoholic father and his verbally abusive mother were deemed to be unfitting parents. By age eleven, his reputation of behavioral problems and acting out against the foster parents who took him in had grown so severe, including setting a small fire to a home's living room curtains, that the system had threatened to send him to a juvenile detention center.

To that day, Vickie was still unsure why she had stepped in and offered to foster him herself. All she knew was that she had been convinced that all Phil had needed was some guidance by someone with a backbone who wouldn't let the boy walk all over them, something that she thought she could do, and she made an agreement with the system that if she couldn't straighten him out, then she would send him to the detention center herself.

The first couple of years had been rough on both of them, for Phil had constantly been testing just how far he could push her and acted out in kind, and in his early teen years, he had often spent a lot of time on the streets before he came back to the house at all hours of the night. For a while, Vickie had feared she would have to send him away to a place she knew wouldn't care about him. But it was care she was certain that he needed and secretly wanted, and she refused to give up on Phil. She had always been loving but firm with him, and though he had continued to test her and push her buttons, something the sixteen-year-old still enjoyed doing, his behavior had noticeably improved.

After Phil's thirteenth birthday, Vickie found herself bringing the then eleven-year-old Jonathan Good under her care once she was sure that she wouldn't have to send the teen away. Just like the first son she had gained, the system was willing to give up on Jon due to the violent outbursts he often had. She hadn't intended to foster a second child since she hadn't even intended to foster a first, but just like the first time, she felt that what Jon needed was the same loving but firm guidance she had given to Phil.

Born to alcoholic and drug-addicted teenage parents out of wedlock, Jon had been left on his poverty-stricken uncle's doorstep when he was four years old. The man hadn't cared about him growing up, viewing him as a burden on his already limited resources, and often neglected him and left him to do whatever he wanted. After punching his uncle after a verbal disagreement got out of control, he had been entered into the system and sent to a juvenile detention center for two years before Vickie heard about his case and managed to work out his release.

Bringing him into her care had proven to not only be the best thing that could have happened to the eleven-year-old, but to Phil as well. For the first time, the then thirteen-year-old had been put into a position where he had to look out for someone younger than himself, and Jon quickly learned the hierarchy of the household after being put in his place a few times when he would tread on the older boy's toes. It was hard for her to say if Phil helped Jon more or if it was the other way around, but with the noticeable decrease in the violent temper of the younger and the increase of responsibility in the older, she knew that her decisions involving both boys had been the right ones.

About six months later, the then ten-year-old Colby Lopez was the third child to walk through her door with the intention of staying. He hadn't had much with him like Phil and Jon, but unlike them, the young boy had entered the system when he was orphaned at five years old after his parents were killed in a hit-and-run accident. The incident had traumatized the child, and though he was shy around people, he often had the tendency to act out if he was pushed too much. He had been in one other foster home before Vickie took him in, but his outward quietness often caused him to be overlooked, and he had spent most of the five year period in an orphanage. Vickie had seen him on one of her downtown rounds and instantly felt pity for him, finally agreeing to take him in since no one else seemed like they would.

Colby had instantly grown attached to Phil and Jon, despite the jokes they often played on him, and he soon became the latter's partner in crime. Vickie remembered how often she would catch them being up to no good, and though they had now stopped their exploits, they were each the other's best friend. She was simply relieved that she could give her three boys a secure home and family structure that no one else would even try to do, knowing that the brother relationship they had was the best thing that could have happened to each of them. They were her sons now, and even though she hadn't planned on having them, she didn't regret bringing them into her home in the least.

However, only one short year before, the system had thrown another curveball into their comfortable lives. Jimmy Jacobs had only been nine years old when Vickie first met him, not to mention the quietest boy she had ever come across. He had entered the system at age seven after his stepfather, who had abusive tendencies, put his mother in the hospital with multiple injuries. While at the orphanage, he had never spoken a word to anyone, and small necessities such as soap and toothbrushes would often go missing and turn up later in his pillowcase. He hadn't been in any other foster homes because of his refusal to even meet any potentially interested parents, and the system turned to Vickie since they didn't know what to do with the boy. After some convincing, she brought Jimmy under her care, though the nine-year-old had seemed terrified by the idea since he just didn't seem to trust anyone. After going through his records, Vickie had learned that Jimmy had suffered some of his stepfather's abuse as well, having to make some emergency room visits himself for injuries he'd sustained, and he had always had to sneak things that he needed around his own house since nothing had ever been provided for him. During the first few months of living with them, small things had often gone missing, and Vickie later found them at the bottom of Jimmy's sock drawer. Though he had stopped doing this for the most part, there were still times where she caught the now ten-year-old sneaking something to his room every now and again.

At first, Phil, Jon, and Colby had been reluctant about the idea of bringing another sibling into the house since they had just gotten to the point where they trusted each other completely. But over the year Jimmy had lived with them, his three brothers had grown to watch out for him and tried to care for him, though he hadn't been responsive to their kindness and instead remained as silent as he always had been. He hadn't even cooperated by showing up to a special birthday dinner they had made for him a couple weeks before, even though they had noticed small portions of the leftovers being eaten away little by little until they were gone. Despite being a part of the family, the youngest sibling just didn't trust them and always tried to isolate himself from the other boys, though he spent every moment he could with Vickie since she was the only one that he had seemed to latch onto.

"Ma?"

The quiet voice brought Vickie out of her thoughts, and she smiled slightly as she shifted her focus to her oldest son. "Yes, Phil?" she asked.

"You all right?" Phil wondered, looking at the woman carefully.

A brief moment passed before Vickie chuckled quietly as she nodded. "I'm fine," she assured him, reaching out and setting her hand on the sixteen-year-old's scruff-lined cheek. "Just thinking, that's all. Go get some sleep. Your school suspension ends tomorrow, after all, and Monday morning comes early. This is the last week before Thanksgiving break, so I think you'll survive that long. And don't let me catch you trying to sneak out again, young man. I don't care if it's to go after that Cena boy, or if you're going to hang out with that Styles boy... what's his name, Allan?"

A startled look appeared on Phil's face as she lowered her hand. Vickie simply crossed her arms. "I don't know why you look so surprised that I know you go see him and his gang... Fergal Devitt, Karl Anderson, and Doc Gallows, if I remember right. Those kids are nothing but trouble."

Phil let out a low breath. Allan was a boy a couple years older than himself he had known from the system and was close friends with before he had been adopted by Vickie. Since he was eighteen, the other boy had simply aged out of the program since he hadn't been matched with any suitable foster parents, much to Phil's surprise. He had been certain that he would have been adopted long before he had. Allan had been fortunate enough to avoid living on the streets by finding a place with Karl, a young man in his early twenties who had formed a close friendship with him while all three of them were in the system before he got adopted by a single father who was a self-employed mechanic before he moved out to be on his own. Doc and Fergal, an immigrant from Ireland, were both a couple years younger than Phil who were still in the system and had yet to find suitable parents, though until then, they had been brought into the fold by both Allan and Karl, who kept a close eye on them. Whenever Phil had stayed out on the streets late into the night, he was often kept company by the four of them.

Granted, they were a "gang," as Vickie had called them, and though the dark-haired teen wasn't a member of it, he definitely considered them to be the best friends he had other than the kids he now called brothers. Though there were only four of them, Allan's group was feared in their neighborhood, their headquarters where deals went down and other business was handled being the garage that Karl's dad used to work out of before he upgraded to an actual shop for his mechanic service, since they were known to be involved with small acts of petty theft and minor vandalism, as well as some occurrences of underage drinking– something that Phil himself didn't partake in. However, other forces in the area were well aware not to tread on their toes since they could get very territorial if necessary.

But, just like many people Phil had come across in his life, they were misunderstood and had another side to them that he had been fortunate enough to be able to see over the years while most people didn't. Allan, for instance, had a strong faith foundation that kept him grounded and strong during all the difficult things he had faced in his eighteen years of life, as well as kept him from doing anything too immoral. Karl often donated to the local foster care facilities every month and volunteered as an after-school mentor for some of the children there when he wasn't working in his dad's mechanic shop. Doc was a defensive lineman on his school's football team and was a volunteer coach for kids' sports leagues on the weekends after his homework was finished. And Fergal, the quietest member of the gang, had joined his school's creative writing club and volunteered in the library after his classes were done for the day.

"Come on, AJ's cool, Ma," Phil tried to protest. "Really! They're good guys. Just because they're in this group with a lot of street cr–!"

"Don't give me any bullshit about street cred," Vickie interrupted, her snappish tone catching her oldest son off guard. "All four of those boys were in juvenile detention for a reason, Phil. They're people I don't want you getting involved with for reasons I thought would be pretty obvious. Do I make myself clear?"

When the dark-haired teen simply nodded in return, Vickie sighed as she set a tender hand on his shoulder. "I just don't want you getting into trouble."

A brief moment passed before Phil smirked in return. "You don't have to worry about me, Ma. Good night."

Vickie smiled slightly. "Good night, darling."

The sixteen-year-old inwardly winced at the nickname as he turned away from his adoptive mother and hurried up the stairs to the second floor. He slowed his pace briefly when he saw that the door of Jon's room was open a crack and some light was filtering out, and he paused and snuck a glance in to see that two of his younger brothers were both lying on the floor in front of the bed, asleep with the controls of the older's video game system held loosely in their hands.

Shaking his head slightly, Phil smiled as he stepped into the room. "Losers," he muttered, stepping over Jon and Colby to turn off the system and the television. He heard some shuffling behind him before a quiet, familiar voice spoke up.

"What're you doin', man?"

"You kids have school tomorrow," Phil answered jokingly, looking back at the tired face of Colby that he could barely see in the faint moonlight filtering into the room.

"So do you, man," Colby said in a disgruntled way. Phil just smirked.

"You back already?"

Phil shifted his gaze to Jon, who he suspected had really been awake the entire time he had been there. "I knew it wouldn't take you long to put Cena in his place, but that was fast, even for you," the younger boy concluded as he stretched.

"Never actually got to leave, Johnny," Phil told him with a quiet sigh. "Ma caught me."

Colby raised an eyebrow while Jon laughed at his misfortune. "Damn, dude, that sucks!" The latter continued to chuckle, reaching for the pack of cigarettes he had pilfered that he secretly kept in the pocket of his jeans. "You gonna do somethin' when we see him tomorrow?"

Phil shook his head slightly. "As much as I would love to, I really can't," he replied. "I told Ma I wouldn't get expelled from another school, and if I get suspended one more time, I'll be thrown out of this one. I have two years until I'm outta that hellhole, and I can't screw it up now."

"Yeah, I guess not." Jon pulled a cigarette out of the pack before putting it back in his pocket, pushing himself to his feet before he walked over to the nightstand at the head of his bed and pulled a lighter out of the drawer.

The oldest boy smirked slightly. "You'd better not let Ma catch ya with those, Johnny. She would bust your ass."

Jon chuckled as he pushed open the window so that the smoke wouldn't get into the room. There was less of a chance that Vickie would catch him that way, though the fourteen-year-old knew that she may have had a suspicion anyway. "Don't worry," he muttered with a smile as he lit the cigarette. "She won't."

Phil just chuckled.

Colby looked up at his oldest brother with narrowed eyes from where he still sat on the floor. Phil glanced back at him, arching an eyebrow in confusion. "What's wrong with you?" he wondered.

"Nothin'," the thirteen-year-old mumbled. But then, he sighed. "You're leaving when you graduate... aren't you?"

Phil's gaze faltered slightly before he lightly chewed on his bottom lip ring. "Damn straight, kiddo," he said. "I'm not sticking around forever." Then, the sixteen-year-old glared at Jon when he punched his arm. "Ow! What the hell was that for, you asshole?"

"Do you have to be an insensitive jerk all the time, man?" Jon demanded. He exhaled some smoke into the cool night air before he leaned closer to the older boy. "The kid's been afraid of you leaving for some time. Besides me and Mom, you're all he's got."

"Don't you think I know that?" Phil snapped quietly. He sighed, turning back to Colby, who had distracted himself by wrapping the wire around the controller he had been using to put away. "All right, kiddo, to your room. Johnny will put everything away when he's done with his smoke."

Jon grumbled somewhat irritably under his breath before bringing the cigarette back to his lips.

Colby looked up from what he was doing when Phil grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him to his feet. "Night, Jon," he said, waving to the fourteen-year-old as he followed the older boy out into the hallway. They were silent as they walked the short distance to the door of the room next to Jon's, and Phil sighed as he turned to his younger brother.

"Go to bed, kiddo," he muttered. "Mondays suck even when you're not staying up late playing video games."

"'kay." Colby shrugged and turned around, pushing open the door of his room. But then, he stopped when the sixteen-year-old reached out and pulled it closed again. "What?"

"Look, Colbs, I didn't mean to sound like an asshole back there, okay?" Phil told him. "It's just that I don't wanna stay here forever, you know? I don't think you do either. It's just that I'll reach that point before you do. But that's two years from now. I'm not gonna go anywhere before then. I promise."

Colby looked at him for a long moment before he dropped his gaze. "No big deal," he said quietly. "I mean, everyone leaves sometime, right?"

Phil sighed. "Colby–!" he began, but he was interrupted when the younger boy pushed open the door of his room and stepped inside, shutting it again behind him. He closed his eyes for a second as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt, slowly turning away from the door to walk to his own room across the hall. He couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty.

But then, he paused when he saw the door of the bathroom slowly open out of the corner of his eye, and he watched as a small, black-haired figure stepped out into the hallway and quietly closed the door again behind him. "Hey!"

The little boy stopped and quickly turned around to face him, his dark eyes widening fearfully as he immediately put his hands behind his back. Phil's brow furrowed slightly as he began to make his way toward him. "What do you have there, Jimmy?" he asked. He was very familiar with his new brother's habits.

Jimmy shook his head as he swiftly turned around and opened the door to go back into the bathroom, but the dark-haired teen was just as quick. He reached out and grabbed his thin arm as carefully as he could, turning the ten-year-old back around to face him. He looked up at him nervously, and Phil held his other hand out without a word. Being the oldest of his four siblings, being firm with them was something he'd learned well from his mother. A moment passed before Jimmy sighed in defeat and cast his gaze to the floor, slowly bringing his other arm out from behind his back and setting a blue toothbrush in his waiting palm.

Phil's gaze faltered as he looked down at it, knowing it was the one Vickie had bought for his youngest brother just a couple weeks ago since the one before it had gotten old. "You've been here a year, Jimmy," he muttered, moving his eyes to the small child. "Ma gives you everything. You know you don't have to steal and hide shit anymore. It's yours, and it ain't going anywhere."

When Jimmy said nothing in response, Phil slowly released his arm. "Stay right there," he told him sternly. "I'm not done talking to you."

Jimmy watched as Phil opened the door and stepped into the bathroom, setting his toothbrush back in the holder where everyone else's were before he walked back out into the hallway. He shut the door again and crossed his arms as he looked down at him, and the younger boy looked away.

"You need to start saying stuff, kid," the sixteen-year-old stated. "If you wanna stay in this house, that is. They send kids away who don't speak, y'know, and you're not gonna like where you end up."

Panic crossed Jimmy's face as he quickly looked up at him, and he reached out and grabbed the sleeve of the older boy's sweater with his small hands. Phil knew that he had grown attached to Vickie over the time he had spent there, even though he didn't say a word to her either, and he didn't want to leave the woman who had become their mother.

"Look, Jimmy, I'm just telling ya," he said with a slight shrug. "There's nothing I can do if you don't talk. I don't know what happened to you before you came to this house, and I'm not gonna try to find out, but you don't have to be scared while you're here. We may act like assholes, but we've got your back, kid. That's what big brothers are for. I've been in a lot of crazy places before I came here, and honestly, you wouldn't last in any of 'em. I dunno where you'd be sent off to, but I can guarantee ya that no one's gonna give a shit about you anywhere else. It's a hard truth I know you don't wanna hear, but that's the way it is. We're delinquents, plain and simple. It's all we'll ever be. But at least here, we have a home and someone who gives a damn about us."

Jimmy lowered his gaze from his, but he tightened his hold on his sweater. Phil arched an eyebrow. "You don't wanna go?" he wondered. The ten-year-old didn't look at him, but he quickly shook his head in silent answer. Sighing, the black-haired teen bent over a little to look at him a bit better. "Then you need to start speaking. I don't care if it's tonight, I don't care if it's tomorrow. Hell, I don't care if it's next month. But I'm outta here in two years, and by that time, I expect you to be talking. I don't want to see you in some hellhole somewhere else." He briefly paused. "Look at me, Jimmy. You hearin' me?"

A moment passed before Jimmy slowly raised his gaze to his again, some fear lingering in his youthful features as he briefly nodded. Phil smiled slightly as he raised a hand and ruffled his hair. "That a boy," he muttered, chuckling a little as the younger child released his sleeve to get the flyaway strands out of his face. "And just stop stealing shit. It's yours anyway."

The sixteen-year-old turned and started to make his way to his room, which was next to Jimmy's, but he had only set his hand on the door handle when he heard a nearly whispered, high-pitched voice he had never heard before behind him.

"Night, Phil."

Surprised, Phil quickly looked over his shoulder back at his youngest brother, but Jimmy had already stepped into his own room and shut the door behind him.

Author's Note: For those not too familiar with Jimmy Jacobs (for those of you who are, feel free to skip to the next paragraph), he's been a main staple of places throughout the independent circuit such as Ring of Honor for almost eleven years. Currently, he wrestles under the moniker of The Zombie Princess and is the leader of the villainous group The Decade in Ring of Honor, as well as leads the largest group of heels, known as The Flood, that has gathered in the promotion CHIKARA. He also has a history with each of his three "adopted brothers" in this story before they went on to WWE, having wrestled in places such as Ring of Honor and IWA with and against CM Punk (including being put through a basketball hoop by the Straight Edge Superstar), having an epic and violent feud against Dean Ambrose because their characters were so similar in the promotion Dragon Gate USA, and leading the group known as The Age of the Fall in Ring of Honor, which Seth Rollins was a member of before it broke apart, leading to a feud between the two men as well.

For those not too familiar with the group The Bullet Club (for those of you who are, feel free to skip to the next paragraph), they are the most dominant faction in professional wrestling currently, mainly being represented in New Japan Pro Wrestling and Ring of Honor. For all intents and purposes for this story, its main members (currently) are AJ Styles (who is also a familiar name from when he was in TNA), the "Machine Gun" Karl Anderson, Doc Gallows (formerly WWE's Luke Gallows from the Straight Edge Society), and Matt and Nick Jackson, otherwise known as the tag team The Young Bucks (they'll be popping up later in this story). The faction used to be under the leadership of Prince Devitt (who now wrestles in WWE NXT as Finn Bálor), and when he left the independent circuit, the leadership spot was taken over by AJ Styles.

So, this little prologue was just meant as an introduction of sorts, showing how the four main characters came to be in the same family and known as brothers. Things will begin picking up a bit more in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!