Working Vacation

8

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8

Xander Harris threw a few last socks and underwear into an overnight bag.

"That's a lot of underwear for just a weekend away." Faith Lehane observed dryly, from where she was leaning against a nearby wall.

"Well…" Xander started, glancing into the bag thoughtfully. "Cereza mentioned a long weekend, and asked if I liked trains. I'm assuming that I'll end up somewhere like Bulgaria by this time Monday."

"Cereza?"

"Her real name, or at least one of them, anyway."

"What else does she want you to call her, X?" Faith chuckled lasciviously. Bayonetta might be screwing Xander at the moment, but that didn't mean that she wasn't interested in stories about their favorite boytoy.

"Cereza, Bayonetta, Miss, Mistress…" he trailed off briefly before adding, "She really likes it when I call her that last one, at least when we're alone." He noted the mocking smirk on Faith's face and rolled his eye. "Hey, you know what? Never mind."

"What's with this chick?"

"She's a witch, she's just shy of six hundred years old, likes guns, has apparently lived a long time, and likes my company."

"Lots of girls like your company, boytoy," she scoffed good-naturedly. "I heard about Glasgow."

Xander grimaced. "Satsu's never faced a banshee that strong, she was just a little freaked out."

"…and the giant monsters that come out of her hair?"

Xander frowned. Those 'monsters' were Bayonetta's combat thralls; demons tamed by the powerful witch. Normally incorporeal and transdimensional entities, they took physical shape at her whim; manifesting out of her hair, her clothing, and even thin air when the mood struck her.

Still, he had to breathe a sigh of relief. She also possessed the power to conjure infernal contraptions that resembled medieval torture devices. Xander had seen the sadistic delight that the Umbra Witch took in dispatching her enemies with all the deadly toys in her arsenal.

Thankfully, she hadn't seen fit to unleash her full power during the battle. The Slayers were powerful warriors, but they were also terrible gossips.

His friends and allies already had too much material to analyze and debate about his relationship with Bayonetta.

So he tried to feign indifference. "She likes showing off," he shrugged.

Faith had been able to read guys like Xander long before the mystical enhancing properties of the Slayer made reading body languages about as complicated as reading a Dick and Jane book. The South Boston native knew when a man was being evasive. From a straight-up guy like Xander, that was a red flag.

"Xander…" Faith said softly, which instantly got his attention. "I like property damage as much as the next girl, but this chick's on a whole other level."

He sighed. Faith had definitely seen the unedited mission reports.

Bayonetta's tastes in mayhem were remarkable enough, but one only had to notice the lusty and bloodthirsty glee on her face, as she summoned some torture device from the ether to unleash on some hapless foe, to realize that she enjoyed her work a little too much.

Still, Xander was a practical salt about such things. Some might even say pragmatic.

"Baddies got busted, and everyone on Satsu's team came back in one piece. Everybody wins."

"Except you have to pay for the save by spending the weekend as her…" Faith struggled for the right phrasing.

"Traveling companion?" Xander offered.

"…manservant-slash-sex slave?" Faith replied.

Xander snorted. Faith's reputation as the bawdiest and most delightfully-blunt member of the Scooby Gang had taken a nosedive as Cereza's tastes had made the Slayer-Watcher grapevine.

The Umbra Witch took great delight in his company and had no problems expressing that pleasure publicly and in some wild and extreme ways. Even Giles was a little worried.

"Faith, I'm okay, I swear. I mean, sure, Cereza's not your typical flowers-and-candy girl, but it's all good."

"Promise?" she asked faintly, and that got him in the heart. Faith was so closed off behind her tactless bawdiness (an appealing combination of both Cordelia and Anya that only Cereza could surpass) that not even Wood, her longest-running relationship, had really gotten close to her. Not in the way that Angel and Xander himself, to a lesser extent, had ever managed.

"Hand to God, Faith," he sighed. "I'm not some weird kind of sex slave, if that's what you're worried about."

"Okay," Faith grumbled.

"Good, now help me find my bondage mask and arm binders."

Faith gaped at him for a long couple of seconds before she saw the insolent twinkle in his eye.

"Just for that, you can carry your own damn bag," she snapped, storming out of his room. He just chuckled. So worth it to get one over on her like that…

It was a busy day at the Scottish castle the New Watcher's Council called home.

Teams of Slayers were hurrying to assignments in places as far off as Japan and as close as… well, Glasgow, where one of the action teams had stumbled upon a creature they'd little experience in fighting.

Thankfully, Bayonetta had been both available and in the mood to respond to the team's calls for help, extracting the promise of Xander's company in exchange for her assistance.

It was this scene of barely-controlled chaos that Xander and Faith strolled through, down to the castle's spacious entrance hall.

A small group of Slayers were loitering in the area, trying to pretend that they weren't all there to catch a glimpse of the infamous gun-toting witch.

Xander shook his head, sighing wearily. Ever since he'd first met Bayonetta, he'd tried to keep their relationship on the down-low, at least beyond his core group of allies and friends.

But after that incident over in Dundee, word was definitely out.

A loud honking announced Bayonetta's arrival, and the front door was thrown open to people streaming out onto the lawn to see a sleek, dark Ferrari 599 GTO carve its way up the long and meandering driveway.

To simply call the car black was to do a grave disservice to the absolute absence of color. Light seemed to be consumed by the car's gleaming surface, while its curves and lines suggested something more feral and animalistic than a simple high performance vehicle.

…and yet, as ferocious as the car looked, it seemed the perfect cage suited to contain its mistress, who'd just climbed from the car and promptly caught everyone's attention.

Faith just gaped. "Damn… I hope I look that good when I'm six-hundred years old."

Xander had been hoping that Bayonetta might avoid her usual close-fitted battle dress, her "work clothes" as he'd come to call them.

Indeed, she'd avoided her catsuit in favor of a more-conventional ensemble… well, conventional for Bayonetta, anyways.

She was dressed up like a schoolteacher, an effect enhanced by her ever-present horn rimmed glasses and… huh, she'd cut her hair.

But if she was a school teacher, then her classroom had to be somewhere in Hell.

Her leather skirt sported a slit up both sides that competed with its already-daring hemline to catch the eye. The silk blouse and leather vest somehow managed to both conceal AND display her impressive cleavage. Of course, this being Bayonetta, the vest looked less like a fashion accessory and more like a fetishized corset.

The trunk of the car opened at a snap of her fingers. "Come along, Cheshire," she called in her posh accent. "We have a train to catch, and we're burning daylight, as you Americans like to say."

"Cheshire?" Faith whispered.

"Pet name, please don't ask." Xander muttered under his breath.

"You don't know, or you don't want ME to know?"

Xander grimaced and looked away.

Huge red flag.

Instead, he met Cereza at her car with a peck on the cheek before tossing his bag in the trunk, asking, "You gonna let me drive?" He asked.

Bayonetta laughed, the sound both melodically high and clear. "Oh, Cheshire, you always say the most delightful things," she chuckled, gesturing at the shotgun seat.

"I'm not THAT bad," he rolled his eye.

"This car requires precision, finesse, and control," she said airily. "Anything less, and it's too much car to handle."

Xander snorted in spite of himself as he examined its dashboard. "It's a car; four wheels and a seat. Granted, it's a thing of beauty, but anything else is just a salesman blowing smoke up your incredibly-awesome ass. "

"Aren't you the little charmer?" she observed, leering at him. "Mama wants some sugar."

So Xander leaned over and kissed her, trying to ignore the loud howls of encouragement from the watching Slayers.

They were starting to make out with some intensity when Bayonetta's fist tangled in his hair holding his head in place while her foot slammed on the gas and the car leapt forward.

He tried to scream in fear, but the witch's tongue slithered aggressively into his mouth, muffling his cries and turning them into grunts of panic.

She accelerated her car down the driveway's winding path amidst the screaming tires, entirely unconcerned as they all but flew toward the closed front gates.

The gate began a slow motion march to the sides, uncaring of the vehicle rocketing towards them.

Xander made another unmanly sound around Bayonetta's wild and passionate tongue as the car squeezed through the gate with maybe a half inch of space on either side.

She upshifted, spinning the car onto the road before leaning back in the driver's seat.

"…and that's just your own driveway, which you should feel totally comfortable with." Bayonetta explained, chuckling at the poleaxed look on her boytoy's face.

He pounded on his chest, trying to restart his heart. "Okay… okay, I get the point," he wheezed, wondering if she hadn't scared ten years off his life. "So what's with the train trip?"

"What, a girl can't drag her favorite boytoy on a romantic getaway?" Cereza asked.

"If you were just any girl, sure. But you're not, so what's the deal?"

"The Umbra Order," she grunted darkly. "A work request… with pay, no less."

"The Council of Umbra Witches are hiring you? Should I be concerned?" Xander shrugged.

"Always." Cereza replied.

"These would be the same Sisterhood of Umbra Witches who occasionally try and KILL you?"

"For shame, Cheshire," she chided him playfully. "Would you really let a little thing like attempted homicide stand in the way of a potentially good business deal?"

"No, but I'd sure as shooting make 'em pay double."

She snorted. "Great minds think alike," she replied. "I quoted the most ridiculous price I could think of at the moment, and those stuffy bitches paid up front."

"…which should set off all kinds of alarms. This job's way more dangerous than they're letting on."

"I doubt it's anything we can't handle," she shrugged.

"And again She's tempting Murphy." Xander sighed.

The car's speed increased and Xander felt velocity shoving him back into the GTO's plush and comfortable seat.

"A little danger makes things more interesting." Cereza replied.

He glanced over and saw a familiar predatory gleam in the Umbra Witch's eyes.

"Aren't we going a little fast?"

"I want to get to the station sooner rather than later," she growled. "I've booked us a private room and I want you all to myself."

"Someone's in a good mood," he marveled.

"…and you'll be getting the full advantage of it. First chance we get, you'll finish what you started," she declared, a lusty glint in her eyes.

"Hey, that make-out session was your idea," he chided her lightly, amused at the familiar look she shot his way.

Xander hadn't been lying to Faith about the nature of his relationship. But Bayonetta had been pretty clear about who was in the driver's seat in their somewhat-unconventional coupling, both literally and metaphorically.

Not that it was all bad; a recent weekend in which they'd stayed in bed as much as possible was actually a pretty fond memory.

So he decided against arguing.

But as he eyed her nervously, she reached out a caressing hand. Just as she managed the impressive feat of upshifting and executing a handbrake turn, all while running her fingers through Xander's hair as the GTO's speed ramping upwards to mirror her increasing delight.

He resisted her gentle pressure on his head.

"Nervous, sweetling?" she chuckled.

"Last thing I want to explain to some ambulance guy is what I was doing if you lose control of the car."

"…or worse, Summers and Rosenberg," she chuckled.

"That goes without saying. Seriously, please don't say anything. I'm begging you."

Her fingers suddenly clenched in his hair and she tugged ever-so-gently, smiling as he winced at the pain. "Oh, but you can beg so much better than that, Cheshire," she cooed, her lips pulling into a leer. "I can certainly testify to such knowledge."

He grimaced, and she chuckled, letting him go. "All right, Xander. If you make it worth my while, I'll keep some of your less… well-known skills and talents a secret just between us."

"You did get us a private cabin aboard the train, right?" he pleaded.

She smiled triumphantly. She didn't mind waiting, and a little defiance on his part only served to whet her appetite. After all, the name of the game wasn't breaking down but rather breaking in.

"Ahh, Xander, this weekend will be fun times. In fact, I might never let you go."

He smiled weakly, fairly certain that Cereza was kidding.

But something in her eyes made him think that assuming anything with Bayonetta was a fool's gambit.

8

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8

The train station was a frenzied chaotic mass of bodies moving to and fro. Bayonetta's GTO slid into two adjacent handicapped parking slots.

"You sure it's okay to leave your car here?" a slightly disheveled Xander asked, his hair a tousled mess.

"Relax, Cheshire, no one will notice it's even here."

Bayonetta bit into her thumb until scarlet pebbles of blood appeared, then using her bloodied thumb to inscribe an arcane symbol onto the car's chassis.

The car seemed to almost… sigh, and Xander paused, wondering what was going to happen.

What happened next was odd. The car didn't so much vanish as it seemed to swim in his vision. The car was there, physically, in the corner of his eye, but when he tried looking directly at it, his eyes seemed determined to not focus on it.

"What the Hell?" he remarked. "It's there, I… I know it's there, but it's like it isn't."

"Invisibility is so gauche," Cereza sniffed. "Social invisibility is much more subtle. I believe your friend Andrew would call it a… perception filter, or some such."

The car's trunk opened with a snap of her fingers, and Xander retrieved his bag, noting that Cereza herself seemed to have packed no luggage of any kind.

"Traveling light?" he pointed.

"For all you know, this trip is clothing-optional," she leered at him.

Xander grimaced. "Suddenly, the reality of running around with no clothes on so doesn't match up with the fantasy I built in my head."

"…and THAT, sweetling, is why I'll never be bored with you," she noted fondly.

"Aren't we gonna need backup?"

"We might be seeing an old friend of mine," she replied, shrugging. "But you're all the support I'll really need on this trip. "

She produced a slim silver case slipping it into Xander's pants pocket.

"Be a dear and hold on to that for me?" Cereza caressed Xander's face.

Xander shrugged, "You want me to hold on to your smokes?" He asked

"Not exactly, but there's no one I trust more," she shrugged. "Now let's get aboard. We've got first-class accommodation, which includes meal service."

"Looking to get your food on?"

She just chuckled, the hungry look in her eyes not exactly interested in food at all. "We'll start with food and see where the evening takes us."

8

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Bertie Rodgers darted through the crowds of the train station. At one point, he brushed by a couple; the brunette, tall and intimidating, looked like something straight out of his wet dreams while her companion was a wiry young man, his right eye concealed behind an eyepatch.

But he kept moving, weaving in and around the crowds.

"Slow down," he heard the voice in his head. "If you hurry, they'll mark you. Just relax, and let the crowd carry you to where you want to be."

Bertie slowed, trying to keep with the pace of the crowd.

"Better," the voice commented. "You're coming up on a ticket booth."

"I'm broke," he shot back. "If you'd let me PUSH someone, I'd have all the cash we need."

"Stop!" The command was loud, louder than when it usually spoke.

"Pick up the phone," the voice commanded. "Pretend to be making a call. Then, I want you to look to the sides. Tell me what you see."

Bertie looked around cautiously, and then he saw them. Three men, moving through the crowds. Everything about them screamed hunter, especially the leader in the trench coat.

"The albino in the coat is Deckland. He's a PUSHER like you, but what he's really good at is BENDING. He's one of the best BENDERS out there. Now look at the rest."

"Some kid who barely looks old enough to shave."

"That's Peter, a LEECH."

Bertie shivered. "Power-detection and siphoning."

"Peter will smell it if you so much as make someone sneeze funny. Now focus on the last one."

"The bald guy in the Hawaiian shirt and sports coat?

"Victor; he's a SMOKER."

"Screens people and places," Bertie muttered. "…and he can make people forget."

"Or remake what they remember," his guide reminded him. "His favorite trick is to make you remember stuff so horrible that they won't need to kill you because you'll kill yourself."

Bertie shuddered. He'd heard about all the depraved stuff the erasers could do. "If you won't let me PUSH my way on to the train, then how are we going to make this happen?"

"I didn't say you can't PUSH anyone, I just meant that you have to be smart about it."

Bertie looked around cautiously. "So what am I looking for?"

"Not what, who," the voice corrected. "You're looking for that couple you passed earlier."

"The man and woman?" Bertie looked around, seeing them boarding a train.

"He's a mundane, but she reeks of magic. Cast near them, and the hunters can't help but notice."

"But the hunters, they'll kill them."

"Better them than you."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you strong enough to face them yourself?" The voice was sneering.

"No."

"Then man up and PUSH the waiter. That should get their attention."

Bertie glided up to the couple. The man… boy, really, was talking the lady's ear off about some teacher that he'd been hot for, back in high school.

Instead of ignoring him or hitting him with that withering glare of an unimpressed woman, the lady seemed fascinated. If that fond smile on her face was any indication.

The kid motioned to a waiter and Bertie hit the man with a hard PUSH.

The woman looked up, almost sniffing the air.

Bertie retreated as the waiter approached the table.

8

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Xander smiled at the waiter. "The lady needs her glass topped up."

"Indeed, I see that table over there has a bottle of Chateau Le Perrin. Ah, a '42. How fortunate."

"I guess she'll have what they're having."

"At once, sir."

The waiter approached the other table and grabbed the bottle of wine.

A scuffle broke out as the diners protested, with one of them grabbing at the waiter, who responded by smashing the man in the face.

"What the hell?" Xander choked.

"Your '42, sir," the waiter mumbled, apparently oblivious to the blood trickling from the cut on his lip. Someone at the other table had gotten in a punch during the brief skirmish.

"Garçon?" Bayonetta asked politely. "Why did you do that?"

The waiter ignored her, every fiber of his being attending on Xander's every word.

"Dude, my friend asked you a question."

"More authoritative," she snapped suddenly.

"Huh?"

"He's being compelled and it appears that you're the focus. He'll do what you tell him to, but you have to be firm."

Xander gaped before turning back. "My friend asked you a ques-"

"No, you're still asking." Cereza groaned. "Don't ask him for what you want, demand it."

He grimaced. "It feels weird."

Cereza fixed an intense gaze on him. "When you're training your Slayers, do you beg them to pay attention or do you demand it?"

"That's different. People's lives are at stake if they screw up in the field."

"Well, his life's at stake right now," she shot back.

Xander nodded before turning back to the waiter.

"Tell me who compelled you." Xander said coldly.

"I don't know," the waiter said dully.

"Are they still here?" Cereza asked.

The waiter ignored her.

"HEY!" Xander snapped. "When she asks you a question, you answer it. When she tells you to do something, you do it. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," the waiter droned, turning to her mechanically. "Sorry, ma'am."

"It's alright," Bayonetta replied, a little amused at this side of her boytoy. "Now, is the person who compelled you still in the room?"

"They left."

"Did you see them?" Xander demanded.

The waiter shook his head. "They feel far away, sir. Can I go to them, sir?"

"You think you could find them?"

He shook his head again. "They feel so far away now."

"Definitely concealing themselves, but why?" Cereza sighed.

"So what do we do with him?" Xander asked.

"What do you want to do with a compelled slave?" she winked at him.

He grimaced. By now, he knew when she was baiting him. "Could you go back to your post and wait for us?" the Scooby asked.

"Oh, Cheshire, you've still got a lot to learn." Bayonetta chuckled before turning to the waiter.

"You've been almost useful so Xander's allowing you to go back to your post as a reward." Her voice was icy, commanding. If he was honest, that was hot. "Go to sleep, little man, and dream of when Xander might bother to call upon you again."

The waiter's smile seemed beatific as he dashed past diners who Xander noticed were curiously unconcerned about the confrontation.

"Not that I'm complaining, but is it just me, or is the crowd way less freaked out then they should be?"

"Someone or something is shading us from the sight of others."

"Good someone or bad someone?"

"I expect we're about to find out," she gestured at the three men approaching their table.

Xander tensed, as their leader looked at him. "Kid, I could think your brains into tapioca pudding before you even knew what was happening."

"Now, boys," Bayonetta chided. "If you're going to fight, at least try to make it interesting."

She slid a bottle of salad dressing across the table. The implication was clear.

The albino grimaced. "All right, ducks, you and your bird are coming with us."

"Xander, be a dear and let me have my case."

He fumbled with the slim silver case from his pockets before sliding it across the table.

"You kept it nice and warm for me." Bayonetta cooed as she snatched it up.

"Now that the bird has her cigs, can we leave already?"

"Ah, but that's just it, ducks," she shot back. "This isn't a cigarette case."

Xander gaped as Bayonetta's arm disappeared inside the case, up to the shoulder. When the arm emerged again, the Umbra Witch was holding a decorated broadsword that looked to have a wicked sharp edge.

"Peter!" The albino snapped.

The boy darted forward, grabbing Cereza's ankle, and Xander watched as tendrils of energy flowed out of her and forced her to drop to one knee.

"So much power…" Peter moaned. "I have to taste every drop."

Xander's foot reached up and crashed into Peter's ribs. The boy stumbled back, Xander hoping that Bayonetta would pull herself free. Instead, she grabbed the reeling boy and pulled him in close.

"You really shouldn't be so hands-on with someone you don't know," she murmured quietly, and suddenly he realized that she was pissed off.

Xander felt the air twist and shift as Bayonetta's hair seethed and pulsed as if it was alive.

Alive and hungry.

"Especially when so much of the power you stole goes to keeping the darkness inside," she snarled that last word as her hair lengthened. Writhing like snakes, her tresses suddenly ensnared the boy, trapping him.

"Aww, did the bad man wake my precious?" she cooed mockingly, as Peter's screaming was muffled by bestial roaring. The other men backed away as the Umbra Witch watched them, a look of cruel delight and orgasmic joy on her face.

"Delicious, isn't he, precious?" Bayonetta moaned, cooing at her monstrous pet. "Now eat up; mama wants you to clean your plate, and you can even lick the bowl clean."

Peter's screaming abruptly stopped though the disturbing sounds of tearing flesh and crunching bone. Much of her hair seemed to absorb the dark-red that stained it, before the animated tresses loosed its grip. Even Xander gaped at the bleached-bone skeleton that fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

Cereza made a show of rubbing her stomach contentedly. "What's wrong, boys?" she jeered at them. "I thought you liked it when a girl swallowed."

More hair swirled around her body, solidifying into her "working clothes" as she suddenly grabbed onto a pair of blue pistols and had two similar pistols materialize at her ankles. She'd upgraded, apparently. He wondered what she'd done with the Scarborough Fair…

"Victor, fry her brains," the leader ordered, snapping out of his shock.

Victor stepped forward, his eyes glowing as he focused his power on the Umbra Witch.

"Ooh, someone wants to play mind games," Bayonetta chuckled. "Far be it from me to keep from having fun…"

8

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8

Victor and Bayonetta found themselves facing off on a featureless plane.

"Welcome to my mind, bitch." Victor sneered. "In here, I'm God."

Cereza looked at herself briefly before shrugging, unconcerned at the fact that she didn't have Love is Blue in her hands or at her ankles. "Well, we both know that's not true," she jabbed, clutching herself. "I'd be naked if you were."

"I could peel your mind open and suck out whatever I want, and you're running your mouth off?" the ERASER snarled incredulously.

His shadow crept along the ground, inconspicuously reaching out to connect the distance between the two of them, and the ground beneath suddenly felt like quicksand.

She began sinking rapidly, quirking an eyebrow at her situation and then rolling her eyes. How hackneyed. "Honestly, Victor, I got dressed up and everything and the best you can manage are cheap parlor tricks?"

One of Victor's eyebrows twitched as he advanced on her, real slow to ramp up her fear. "You got a big mouth, don't you?" he sneered. "I can think of better things to do with it than hearing you run it off."

Cereza just sniffed disdainfully. Xander could pull that act off a lot better than anything this loser was trying, even if she had to train him up a bit. "Honey, I know the other girls wanted to spare your feelings, but if you're going to mind-fuck someone, then you'd be better off well-hung," she jabbed at him.

"Shut up, bitch," Victor snarled, letting his eyes fall shut as he felt moist warmth around his stiffened manhood.

Then the weight of an arm landed on his shoulder. Looking back, he gaped. Bayonetta was free of his mind trap, and looking at him as if she was amused.

"Not that I'm any kind of expert, but should you be putting that in there?" she pointed down, and he followed her gaze. Only to see the huge Rottweiler that snarled aggressively before its jaws snapped shut.

Victor screamed as he fell back, and the dog jumped on him and started savaging his body.

"Aww, how cute," she purred, enjoying his agonized screaming. "All that talk of bitches, I thought you'd be into something like this." Absently running her hands down her sides, she smiled thinly at the bloody mess at her feet. "You know, I think she likes you. Normally, she would've torn your belly open first."

She turned on her heel, leaving the screeching Victor to the dubious mercy of his own mental demons. "You should be careful," she chided him, calling back over her shoulder. "Feed her once and she'll never leave you alone."

8

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Victor knelt on the floor, staring blankly into space.

Xander's sense of compassion forced him to look away from the helpless man as bodily fluids darkened his pants, leaving them drenched.

"Two down, one to go." Bayonetta hissed, advancing on Deckland.