A/N: Thank you for the continued support!
Just to address some reviews,
DTrumper: I completely understand your confusion, and no, you are not stupid. Your question, however, is a very tricky but it will be answered through the course of this story.
Yaxley sat at the table for breakfast, silently reading the Daily Prophet. His gloves placed on the table neatly by his cup of steaming coffee. He flipped through the paper, reading the news indifferently while he counted the peaceful hours in his head. He had been adopting this daily morning routine for a few days since the ruffian had fully recovered – the cranky bastard was impossible to live with in the mornings when he had yet to drink his first cup of burning coffee.
Yaxley felt his face scrunched into a scowl of displeasure and his hands curled around the edges of the paper. Of course, he was not bothered that his cumbersome house mate was spending his waking hours outside instead of sparring in the dungeons of the Hall. Most definitely, he did not care whatever the selfish bastard did with whoever wherever whenever. He was not the Russian's keeper. Hell no!
Yaxley swore under his breath as his hands clenched into tight fists. Of course, her mocking of their friendship did not help matters; but what did that witch know anyway? Oh, for Merlin's sake! Why did he care what her opinions were? Yaxley slammed his fist on the table and watched with minute satisfaction that the tea sloshed onto the table cloth. Of course, the root of his irritation recently had to be because of a very specific bastard who escaped from the so-called impregnable asylum for the criminally and dangerously insane and dishonourable. The very same insufferable bastard that drove him to… to… mingle with a snot-nosed muggle born! Why the bastard could not be the one playing tea party with the muggle was for anyone to guess. Seething, Yaxley began allowing his mind to take a stroll through the glorious library of wild imaginations of cruel tortures. The selfish bastard needed to-
"Master! Again, Potsie greets Master a very good morning!" the house elf chirped as she curtsied by her master's seat, "Potsie thinks Master looks very handsome today!"
Yaxley closed his eyes as he gritted his teeth and forced his breathing through his nose; there was nothing to be had from getting angry at the house elf. There was no challenge, no satisfaction in arguing with an agreeable being. Eventually, he opened his violet eyes and looked down at her and huffed, "What's the matter now, Potsie? It's too early for praises. Don't tell me the bastard is awake; it's too early for him."
"'Tis not Grumpie Wizzie, Master. Grumpie Wizzie still with the dead," Potsie denied as she wringed her hands together and shuffled her feet, and looked at him with huge eyes filled with guilt and regret. "Little Finnie is here." Yaxley released a short but loud curse as he swiped the cup of coffee off the table. He gritted his teeth as he slammed his fist on the table. The world simply could not leave him alone, could it? At every corner, he had to be met with annoyance.
"Say the word, Master," Potsie begged her master as she watched the fury spreading over his face, and the disappearance of the usually lazy grin, "Potsie be turning Little Finnie away… if Master so verily wish."
Violet eyes glowered at her and Potsie flattened her ears on her head as she faced the rumoured fury of her master. It had been far too long that any member of the Yaxley household had lost their temper. A time too long until people had forgotten and began to pretend the infamous fury of a Yaxley to be just a rumor and a myth to scare children away from the infamous hall. She pressed her hands on her head as she fixed her eyes on his shoes, too afraid to look at the eyes that held secrets of a multitude ways to prolong suffering. A loud roar of thunder echoed through the house, as the candles on the chandelier flickered, and the floor vibrated and the pillars trembled. "Master Corban!" Potsie whined as she huddled in a ball close to her master's legs as his magic cackled around him.
Violet eyes slid to observe the house elf and the cuts that began appearing all over her. As blood spilled from her open wounds, Yaxley shook his head violently and clenched his eyes and curled his hands. He dropped into his seat, and counted his heartbeats while forcing himself to calm down. He would not be like his grandfather, he would not be like anyone in his line. He would not forget the kindness. He would not be like his grandfather or anyone in the Yaxley line; he would not repay kindness in such uncouth barbaric ways. He was refined even if Yaxleys of the past had no grasp of such concept.
The swinging chandelier overhead stopped its swaying just as the floor ceased its vibration. The walls and pillars quit their trembling as the patriarch of the hall opened his eyes. An exhausted and deflated huff escaped him as he dangled his hand to sloppily prod the head of his house elf. He smiled faintly when her huge eyes twinkled and her usual whining expression spread over her face. He sighed heavily, pulled himself into an upright position, cast a spell to heal her wounds and conceded, "Show him in, Potsie." Just as she was skipping away, he stared at the disarrayed breakfast table and then smiled sheepishly at her back, "But, another round of breakfast before he is here would be good though."
"Hey, old man! Where is the no-good bastard?" A spiky blond-haired young man with icy blue eyes grumbled as he entered the dining room, his dirty boots leaving muddy prints on the floor. He dropped uninvited into a and crossed his huge arms.
"Who knows," Yaxley replied flippantly as he continued to spread butter on his toasts without sparing a glance on his guest, "Last I heard, he's in Azkaban."
"Bullshit!" the young guest spat as he ran a hand through his short hair. He had no doubts about the man he saw in Winchester. It had to be Dolohov – no one else had the same the same gentle murderous vibes. "I didn't come all the way here to be lied to again! I know he's here! Don't make me tear your house down!" His nose flared as he glared at the calm man who simply raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well, if you're threatening to destroy my home, I suppose you can try searching for him," Yaxley shrugged his shoulders, "After all, there are more than enough rooms for you to do a satisfying scavenger hunt."
Rowle snarled as he dashed forward and grabbed a fistful of Yaxley's collar and yanked Yaxley forward. Short angry puffs of breath assaulted on Yaxley's face hotly as Rowle growled very fiercely and very carefully, "You will tell me where he is, or Merlin help me, I will-!" A swift wand jab into the diaphragm, a quick spell incantation and shock flashed in the blue eyes and Rowle was deflected a few feet away. Yaxley dusted his collar, smoothed out the creases while holding the glare of the floored man.
"Six years after graduating from Hogwarts and you think yourself mighty enough to touch me? You're still nothing but a pathetic runt," Yaxley sneered as he snatched the left wrist of the brute and glared at the dark mark, "Taught by one of the Dark Lord's favourites, gifted the mark simply because of association… Five years wandering on your own and you've forgotten your place; you're an embarrassment, Rowle." Yaxley tossed the hand away and as he returned to his seat, he barely managing to pull a shield against a fireball. Incensed, he turned sharply and watched the younger man standing on his feet with his wand out and steady.
"Five years is a long time, Prick," Rowle hissed as he shot a couple more fireballs against the protective shield Yaxley summoned, "I've seen a lot of things… I'm no longer the same boy; I am equal to you... if not stronger."
Yaxley laughed aloud much to Rowle's chagrined. "Just because you've learnt to cast fireballs, you fancy yourself to be equal to me? To be greater than me? That's some fine pot you're smoking, runt!" Yaxley wheezed in between laughter, before he smiled wickedly and did quick wand movements to deflect the fireballs Rowle kept sending his way. Violet eyes flickered and Yaxley cast a spell to summon phantom shackles that rooted Thorfinn the spot. Yaxley widened his smile into malicious grin as he increased the phantom force that pulled even more on the younger man. Slowly, Rowle sunk to his knees, his eyes burnt brightly with fury and embarrassment at having been defeated so easily. Yaxley squinted his eyes into slits as he sneered, "Oh dear, I miss your wild fantasies, Little Finn." Walking towards Rowle, Yaxley crouched before his junior, and clicked his tongue in disappointment, "You've gotten your head too high in the clouds. You're definitely in for remedial lessons when he sees just how much you have regressed." He returned to his breakfast, snapped his fingers to lift the phantom shackles and coaxed, "Until then, why don't you join me for breakfast and tell me what he made you do?"
Rowle scrambled to his feet and dropped into the nearest available seat, and loaded his plate with an obscenely large amount of eggs, toasts and bacon. It was pathetic really but what other choice did he have to try to get back at the smug Scottish wizard? "Did you know what he made me do?" Rowle complained as he chomped openly and loudly on the breakfast and ignored the crumbs that escaped his mouth, "He made me stalk a muggle! A fucking muggle! Fucking hell!"
"I don't see why you're complaining," Yaxley drawled as he elected to ignore the poor table manners of the heir of a supposedly refined line, "You've just proven that you're still a child. You know how he is; he doesn't like sending people on suicidal missions."
"I'm fucking four and twenty years, for Merlin's sake!" Rowle roared and Yaxley put up shields just in case the half-munched food came flying, "I haven't been a child for so fucking long!"
"I'm quite aware that at the same age, he and I were already killing blood traitors and hunting those pesky Order members," Yaxley indulged unhelpfully and smiled lightly at the glowering barbarian, "Perhaps the problem lies in the fact that he doesn't even rate you?"
"I'm going to kill him!"
"So, you've said countless of times since you first met him," Yaxley mimicked a yawn and smiled widely when Rowle glared at him, "I wonder though, are you ever going to duel him? Or are you just shouting death threats just to get his attention?"
"Fuck you, Yaxley! I'll-"
"Be quiet," a cold voice ordered as a disheveled-looking wizard shuffled into the room and flopped into a seat, "all the morning screaming is giving me a headache." He sleepily acknowledged Yaxley's silent nod and before allowing his head to droop and returning to sleep.
Yaxley chuckled at his best friend's antics before he raised a challenging eyebrow at Rowle, "This is the only time you will get to cast your best spell at him at point blank range."
Rowle shuddered, whipped out his wand and snarled, "Crucio!" A red light spurted out weakly before it fizzled out and Dolohov raised his head to look sleepily at a dumbfounded Rowle.
"Did you just... try to cast Crucio on me?" Dolohov asked skeptically as he shook his head and looked at the young wizard, "That was woeful. You've ways to go before you can cast it."
"The thing with so-called dark spells is honest intentions," Yaxley advised the bewildered wizard as he tapped his temple with his index finger, "You need to honestly want to hurt him; one way is to channel your hatred for him and then cast it."
Rowle took a deep breath and snarled, "Cru-!"
Dolohov pulled his wand swiftly, and cast a wordless petrificus totalus. "There are no second chances in battle," he heaved a tired sigh as he walked around the table and stood before the statuesque body, "You have grown terribly audacious since the last time I saw you." Very slowly, he turned about his heel to look at the smiling blonde and asked softly, "Corban, were you the one who filled his head with ideas about something he can never be?"
"Maybe?" Yaxley shrugged his shoulders in carelessly. "Besides, what he does is no business of mine; I'm not his mentor."
"You're a terrible liar."
"Believe what you will," Yaxley snorted, "I've never been able to convince you anyway."
"You know that's not true," Dolohov murmured, "There aren't many times admittedly, but there were some moments that I allowed you to influence me."
Yaxley locked his gaze on grey eyes as he recalled one of the most defining moments in his life. That time, he had never thought Dolohov would silently concede but his best friend had come through for him – Dolohov had turned the other cheek, and, by Merlin's Grace, helped him make the plan work. Yaxley chuckled mirthlessly as emotions of that night begun to resurface, "You don't say; I still find it unbelievably surreal."
Dolohov hummed as he studied the blond wizard and averted his gaze when he spotted the deep frown on Yaxley's face. "I can only imagine the surreality – almost the same as finding out I was the only wizard who attended Yule Ball without a date because every girl I asked rejected me?"
"I don't blame them especially after what she said," Yaxley laughed and smiled widely as the twinkles reappeared in his eyes and the dense silence dissipated, "She ruined your entire Hogwarts life, didn't she?" Yaxley rose to his feet, arms at his hip, he put on a most scandalized face and turned his voice stern and high-pitched, "Mr Dolohov! That is completely inappropriate! You've been a… naughty boy! You ought to see the Headmaster for this!"
Dolohov pinched the bridge of his nose as he sent Yaxley a harmless withering glare and then another at the stunned wizard. "You speak a word of it and you will rue the day you were born," he hissed at the immobilized wizard as he lifted the curse and ignored the guffaws erupting from his best friend before he returned to sit at the table.
Rowle dropped into his seat and hung his head to hide the smirk that stretched over his face. It was difficult to reconcile the idea of his not-too-bad looking mentor with girl problems; it was simply inconceivable! If rumors were to be believed, Dolohov was the champion duelist of his batch; surely, if his looks failed him, his skills as a combatant would definitely impress? Rowle spied at his brooding mentor through his blond fringes and forced himself into a coughing fit to disguise the laughter.
"Is something trapped in your throat, Rowle?" Dolohov asked almost too gently, "A little expelliarmus charm will do the trick."
"I'm sure it's not meant to be used that way," Yaxley wheezed in between laughters while Rowle vigorously shook his head. "I know you are crea-" Yaxley stopped mid-sentence and sobered quickly at the sight of the small warning smirk that was curling slowly on Dolohov's lips. "A penny for your thought?"
"I just had an amusing thought," Dolohov licked his lips as he looked away from the far window and turned painstakingly slow to regard Yaxley. Almost mockingly, he took out a letter and pushed it to Yaxley whose eyes widened fractionally at the sight of the seal. "Shall we test their resolve?"
"Go ahead," Yaxley chuckled as he pressed a finger on it and slowly pushed it back, "but I must remind you that I have one of your... toys in my possession."
"Foals are easily replaceable," Dolohov quipped dispassionately as he folded the letter into his pocket, "Do you reckon I should kill them both? It will save you the trouble."
"You can be so terribly hear-"
"Stop talking as if I'm not here!" Rowle thundered as he jumped to his feet, "For fuck's sake, when will you ever fucking acknowledge me?"
Dolohov turned to the furious wizard with an unreadable face for a moment before he snapped his fingers and the house elf appeared with a pop. "Potsie, if you don't mind, escort Rowle out of here," Dolohov requested quietly as his grey eyes locked on furious blue eyes, "I have no time to babysit burdensome trash."
"Stop treating me like a child incapable of defending himself! I've the dark mark too! I'm a fucking death eater too!"
"Indeed, there is no place on this table for pretentious Death Eaters. Potsie, take the runt back to his mission; it is still early days for him to join us," Yaxley agreed as he ignored the young wizard and addressed his house elf, "after that, return to me immediately; our very important guests are almost here." The house elf curtsied mutely, held onto the furious young wizard and together, they vanished leaving the senior Death Eaters alone.
"Remember you're a prick; try not to be an idiot too," Dolohov reminded as he tapped the breakfast table to vanish excessive breakfast sets until it resembled a breakfast for one.
"No promises," Yaxley laughed as Dolohov vanished with a faint smile, "stay alive, bastard."
"Good morning, gentlemen," Yaxley greeted with a charming smile as he beckoned the three aurors into parlor, "Welcome to Hall of Yaxley. Does anyone fancy a drink?"
"So, you can poison us? I think not!" the disfigured wizard snarled as he hooked his staff onto Yaxley's neck and pulled the Scottish wizard forward, "Why don't we cut all this pish-posh fancy rubbish and you tell me where Dolohov is, eh, you little shit!"
Yaxley edged out and away from the staff, and held his hands in mock surrender in front of him. "You're terribly rude to manhandle me in my own home, Alastor Moody," Yaxley shook his head and sneered the name with undisguised venom, "I, however, do not know what you're on. Isn't Dolohov still in Azkaban?"
"Quit acting stupid, little shit!"
"Potsie!" Yaxley summoned his house elf and questioned her with unmasked incredulity, "Dolohov escaped and did not bother to visit me?"
"Grumpie Wizzie not be here, Master," Potsie replied as she handed him a glass of water, "Master be drinking?"
Yaxley swallowed the drink in one gulp and stared at his little house elf. "That ungrateful bastard," he lamented into his hands, "Twenty years of friendship and he forgets me… unbelievable, don't you think so?"
"Potsie thinks so!" the house elf consoled as she patted her Master's head, "Grumpie Wizzie is bad boy, Potsie says!"
"I a-"
"Enough with the charade, Yaxley!" a bald and dark-skinned wizard interjected sternly as his brown eyes glared at the Scottish wizard who was peeking at them from under his fringe, "You will come with us to be trialled for assisting in Dolohov's escape."
"Do I have a choice?" the blond wizard groaned as he hid his face in his hands, "I didn't even know he escaped!"
"You can resist capture and we will be forced to get rough!" Collymore threatened from behind his superiors, "I'm warning you, disgusting murderer! Bloody rapist!"
Yaxley narrowed his eyes as he rose to his feet. "Threatening me from behind others? Alastor, you haven't been teaching manners to your mentees, have you?" Yaxley clicked his tongue disapprovingly before he pointedly looked at the bald wizard, "Perhaps you require a better mentor, auror."
"Shacklebolt. Kingsley Shacklebolt," the bald wizard introduced himself, "No thank you if you are offering yourself for the position, former Death Eater Yaxley."
"Oh, very well," Yaxley sighed in mock disappointment as he held his hands in front of Shacklebolt, "Capture me then, young 'un. Better you than your… the cowardly little auror." As Shacklebolt cuffed his wrists, Yaxley smiled over his shoulder at Moody, "I shall stand before them again for acts I never did… They really should reconsider their authority – been abusing it a lot, if you ask me."
"Don't get smart with me!" Moody roared as the auror team marched out of the hall with the death eater, "Collymore, owl them that we are coming with Yaxley."
"You're very dramatic, you know that?" Shacklebolt whispered as sternly as he could but still amusement dipped into his voice.
"Maybe?" Yaxley laughed heartily, "Life is after all, just a game."
"I have convened this urgent hearing today, on very short notice, to trial Corban Yaxley for assisting Antonin Dolohov in his escape from Azkaban in the evening of August 31, 1986," Minister Bagnold announced from the judge bench as the members of the Wizengamot observed the blond wizard sitting in the chair, "Do you plead guilty, Corban Yaxley?"
"I cannot possibly plead guilty for an act I have no knowledge of," Yaxley haughtily protested as he raised his chin defiantly.
"Very well; is this your wand?" she questioned as she placed a brown wand on her bench.
"That's yew wood with dragon heartstring at its core," Yaxley listed with a wide smile, "quite rigid too."
"Answer the question, Yaxley!"
"Do you think I would be invested to learn the characteristics of a wand that isn't mine?" Yaxley countered as he folded his hands and shook his head slowly as if disappointed.
"You, insolent little shit!" Moody roared as he stormed forward and yanked Yaxley out of the chair, "You will comply and submit!"
Yaxley leered at the hand that gripped his clothes and sneered with equal venom, "Careful with your demands, Alastor. My wand doesn't take too kindly to others trying to rule me."
"I hear you, Yaxley. Unhand him, Auror Moody," Minister Bagnold ordered firmly. Moody dropped Yaxley roughly into the chair, stormed off without another word. When things began to quieten, she placed the tip of her wand against his and cast Priori Incantatem. Everyone in the chamber watched as white wisps of light came spurting out of Yaxley's wand before they fizzled out into nothingness and awkward silence filled the chamber.
"Feed him Veritaserum, aurors."
Collymore marched forward with Moody, carrying a small vial. They stood on either side of the violet-eyed wizard who was watching them and the vial distrustfully. Quickly, they held him down, clenched his jaws to force it open and tipped the vial's contents into the wizard. As the Scottish wizard swallowed the drops unwillingly, his body gradually fell limp and the aurors retreated while the attendants of the hearing waited for the reactions. Slowly, the blonde raised his head and stared at the minister through dull, glassy eyes.
"What is your name? How old are you?"
"Corban. Corban Yaxley," Yaxley replied emotionlessly, "Four and thirty years."
"Where were you born? Where do you live?"
"Scotland. Hall of Yaxley."
Certain that veritaserum had worked, Minister Bagnold decided it was time to ask the more pertinent questions. "When was the last time you talked to Dolohov?"
"April 19, 1986 when I visited him in Azkaban."
A collective gasp filled the chamber but the glassy eyed wizard continued staring lifelessly at the minister. "When was the last time you saw Dolohov?" she asked bravely despite her voice faltering and uncertainty bellying her words.
"Five years ago, when I was waiting to be trialled for my alleged involvement with the dark lord."
She chewed on the inside of her cheeks as the members of Wizengamot leaned forward to have a closer look on the limp wizard. "Tell me, where is Dolohov likely to hide?"
"I don't know."
"Is there any secret you can tell us about Dolohov?"
"Yes." The blond wizard drooped his head, then he lolled it up and backwards before it rested lamely on his shoulder. "His hobby is sleeping."
Harsh whispers filled the chamber as confusion spread over every face in the chamber except on the chief warlock and the dull-eyed wizard in the chair. The chief warlock frowned as he stared intensely at the wizard and smiled thinly. He should have known of the ingenious ideas of his former students; how many times had he seen first-hand of their creative ideas to exploit loopholes in the rules he laid down in Hogwarts? "Well done," he conceded softly as he praised their brilliance, "Yaxley, Dolohov."
He stood up and waited for every eye of the Wizengamot to look at him before he cleared his throat and declared, "It appears we have no more reason to detain Yaxley. We have no concrete evidence of his involvement in Dolohov's escape."
Minister Bagnold furrowed her eyebrows at the most powerful wizard and decided to echo him. Indeed, to counter him would be both foolish and time-wasting. There was certainly no evidence of Yaxley's involvement. If Veritaserum and Priori Incantatem could not seek out evidence of his acts, there certainly was no evidence to begin with. "Indeed, Albus," she agreed as she knocked her gavel, "I hereby declare Yaxley innocent and free to go." She proceeded to release the court and ordered the aurors to dispel the effects of Veritaserum on the innocent wizard before she too, left the chamber with the other members.
Moody pressed his wand on Yaxley's temple, cast a spell and walked away leaving Collymore to glare heatedly at the blond wizard who was beginning to come around. As Yaxley shakily got to his feet and staggered to leave the chamber, Collymore grasped his elbow and pulled him hard.
Mommy, Daddy! It hurts! Somebody, please help me!
"Count yourself lucky, Yaxley," Collymore snarled as Yaxley looked at him groggily, "Next time, I'll make sure you're in Azkaban."
"Maybe... Maybe I am," Yaxley slurred as he leaned heavily against the wall, and watched Collymore's blurry retreat from the corners of his eyes. With his mind assaulted by a desperate cry and his magic being pulled somewhere, Yaxley hissed and knocked his head against the wall. Was it Dolohov calling? It was almost impossible to focus on anything especially since his senses were still heavily dulled by the combination of Veritaserum and elven magic.
Please, don't hurt me! Somebody, anybody! Corban!
"Shut... shut up," Yaxley panted as he squeezed his eyes in hopes to silence the repeated howling of despair in his sluggish mind, "Shut up...already! I... I can't think!" Wheezing and shuddering, he raised his wand and cast a charm clumsily against his head. After a couple of attempts of stumbling over the syllables, Yaxley finally felt the gradual lift of the oppressive dullness but it was a short-lived relief. With his regained sobriety, his mind began to identify the owner of the thundering cries and his magic began flaring.
Storm! Somebody please help me! Somebody, anybody! Corban! I don't want to die! Dolohov! Somebody, anybody, I beg you! Please help me, I don't want to die!
As his mind began identifying the owner of the voice, fury was quickly swelling in him. "Peanut!" he hissed as he swiftly headed for the apparition zone, "They will pay dearly for trying to steal from me."
You will live and die only at my discretion.
Collymore returned to his office furious with the conclusion of Yaxley's trial. It was obvious the man was involved in Dolohov's prison break. How anyone could not see that was beyond his understanding; it was plain to see! It did not help matters at all that Peter had been away on vacation and would only be back tomorrow. Collymore sulked as he returned to his office.
Turning the knob, he entered the room only to be rooted. A message was written on far wall with a charred body of man, woman and child propped just beneath it. In the hands of the man, a closed glass jar was cradled. A pair of hazel eyes stared at him, suspended by a clear liquid. Peter's eyes. The magical remnants within the eyes belonged to Peter. It was his essence…or whatever was left of it.
Collymore slowly, fearfully, drew his eyes up to the message and then to the hazel eyes before he completely understood the message. Someone was out for revenge. Someone who knew that Peter knew. Someone who knew what he did.
Quickly, he shut the door, locked it and drew the blinders. Was this the reason Peter did not return to work? If so, when was his partner killed and burnt? Collymore could only hope Peter was killed and then burnt rather than burnt alive. It would be more merciful to be burnt after death; but did the murderer even have a shred of humanity? Collymore sunk into his seat as he rested his head on his hands. Peter was dead for being an accessory – he bore witness of the deed and did not report it. Collymore whimpered into his hands. Perhaps, Shacklebolt and Moody would take him into the team. With the high-rank aurors, he would be safe. His secret would be safe. Truly, it was unfortunate for Peter to die for a secret that was not his; but this world's survival rule is: Each man for himself. It was truly Peter's misfortune to have been caught but better Peter than him.
Collymore left his office hastily to put forward his request. The sooner they process and approve the transfer, the safer he would be, and the further away from Death's hands he would be. He shut his eyes as he raced the corridors to his senior's office while the haunting warning continued to echo and shadow him.
These hazel eyes bore witness of the sin. You should've never touched that which belongs to me. Run if you wish, hide if you can but my jaws of carnage will not be denied.
Lots of things are happening, but please review and let me know what you think. Thanks!
