I know there are a lot of time-jumps in this story, but considering how little I update and how fast all these amazing Marvel movies are coming out… man. I don't know about you all, but I loved Age of Ultron, although it did have its nitpicks. And Ant-Man made me so freaking happy, especially during the fight against the Falcon. I'm going to see Captain America: Civil War this week at the premier , I will probably be jumping my story ahead once again past that timeline.
I'm sorry, I just can't run my stories through the events of actual movies. I feel like I must respect those movies, and not trash them in any way.
Disclaimer: -
...
"We have no choice, Perseus. You are not what you once were."
The interior of the Quinjet hummed smoothly. Captain America leaned back against the dashboard and gazed down at the hauntingly silent Wanda Maximoff, and what she held in her slender, pale hand.
It was a photograph, worn and torn, yellowing at the edges. Beside Wanda, standing tall and still, was the Vision, whose animatronic irises closely examined the photo his partner held gingerly. His brow quirked inquisitively, but before he could part his scarlet lips to ask, Wanda spoke.
"My family, yes."
Steve Rogers lowered his head a bit, offering the two as much privacy as he could provide in the somewhat cramped space of the Avenger's once-SHIELD-owned ship. He leaned slightly to the side to ask the pilot, Colonel Rhodes, how much longer would it take to reach the check point.
The Vision, with an unnervingly humane expression, pursed his lips, "While I am not all that acquainted with human law and how to abide to it, I am quite sure breeching the mind without a forewarning is among the numerous taboos, Ms. Maximoff."
Rather than answering, Wanda touched her fingers to the mildly frayed parchment with the softness one might use against the feathers of a bird. A couple, faces aglow with pride and private success, with a daughter in the lap of the father, and a little son in the lap of the mother.
"Avengers," Steve Rogers stepped out from the cockpit archway and into the small jet's antechamber. "We're five minutes out. Time to breif you who we're up against."
It had been nearly a year since Steve has heard from the infamous Percy Jackson. Since his last notice in the paper about a terrorist attack fiasco of some sort. But before Rogers could delve any further in the investigation… he found Bucky. SHIELD collapsed with HYDRA in her wake, the personal manhunt with for Bucky Barnes had begun… and then later that year, Thor returned from Asgard with the proposition of hunting down the remnants of HYDRA with the adjoined forces of the Avengers.
Following with much chaos, a falling city, Ultron, and the death of a good (and evidentially speedy) young man, Captain America told himself it was time to live up to his title as "Captain", and train the fresh recruits. Which consisted of War Machine, The Vision, Sam Wilson (or the Falcon) and Wanda Maximoff (or as the general public like to call her, the Scarlet Witch).
"Well, Steve?" Sam Wilson had set down his thin, paperback novel (something about aerodynamics) and stood, rotating his shoulders and adjusting the red-tinted goggles on his forehead. "Don't tell me we flew over the Atlantic and over a dozen countries to stop a robbery."
"You're worried," Wanda stated, green eyes narrowed as she closely scrutinized her captain.
Steve held her gaze for an instant before hooking his thumbs in his belt. "Colonel Rhodes, suit up."
"I got you," Rhodes switched the Quinjet to autopilot and slipped from his seat, making his way past cap and the others to where his suit stood dormant on century mode.
"The threat we're facing is a phantom," Captain America started, looking to each Avenger in turn, "We have witness reports of manslaughter, mass murder, slave driving, and a multitude of hostage situations. Unfortunately, we don't have a definite visual on the target. But we have a name," he grimaced, "a codename."
"Which helps us plenty," Wanda leaned back in her seat, eyes glinting sardonically.
The Vision looked at her in mild misperception, "No it doesn't."
"Sarcasm, look it up, bot boy," War Machine smirked.
The Vision evidentially took Rhodes' statement literally, and his eyes whirred as he delved into Wikipedia. "Ahh," said The Vision, "I see now."
"Chaos," Steve Rogers rose his voice in finality, "He calls himself Chaos. And from what we can tell, he lives up to the name."
"Grand larceny, mass genocide…" Sam Wilson began strapping on his wings, "There's no way am I letting this guy walk away from this one."
"Avengers," Captain America set his jaw and rose his arm, flexing his forearm. From where it sat resting against the wall, his shield sprang up and fixed itself to Steve's arm in firm magnetism. "Give him Hell."
…
The Alexandria Library, a circular, slanting building of modern architect, was quite the sight to behold. But the Avengers hadn't come to sight see.
But Wanda couldn't help herself.
Arms locked firmly around War Machine, they swooped low over the building before alighting upon the slanted roof. Wanda pressed her hands to the glass and peered through the roof, examining the situation below. Rhodes stayed stationary in the air; the weight of his suit would surely shatter the glass.
"Local enforcement has locked a perimeter two blocks all around. Wilson, Vision, status." Cap said.
"We're going through the front door." The Vision said.
"You are," Falcon said, "Literally. Open the door from your side, bot boy."
Wanda ducked low at the distant chatter of full-auto AK-47s. War Machine's head turned toward the noise.
"We're under fire!" Falcon shouted in the comm, "We got four bogies heavily armed in the front."
"I've told local enforcement to give us breathing room," Captain said, "Maximoff, Rhodes?"
"I see him," Wanda said. And she did.
The interior of the library was a wooden beauty. Gorgeous craftsmanship, with exquisitely relaxing lighting. But that wasn't what drew the witch's attention. It was the tall dark man with the sword.
He stood towering over librarians and civilians who kneeled on the floor, fingers laced behind their heads. Even his men, who prodded the hostages with the ends of their rifles, were short in comparison to their leader.
Normally, in this modern age, a man sighted with an old Greek style bronze sword was be considered a truly bizarre sight. But this man held himself in such a manner that he looked natural, nearly regal, with that sword, in his dark long wool coat leather gloves and boots. His tousled raven-black hair and chiseled, tan face gave off the impression of exquisitely masculine, almost inhuman, handsomeness.
But those eyes… they were green and they blazed with a mad, incomprehensible power. Wanda's breath left her, and she lay there, her own green eyes fixated upon the terrible man and his terrible beauty.
"Maximoff, repeat, did you just confirm visual on the target?" Steve Roger's voice buzzed in her ear, but all she could muster was a ginger nod.
Rhodes sighed, "This is Rhodes, answering for Maximoff. We have located the target, I am running a visual recognition as we speak…"
"Can you make it run any faster?" Falcon asked, his submachine gun rattling from his end.
"Hey, calm your tits, Wilson," Rhodes snapped, "I don't exactly have Stark's Jarvis in here." He knocked his knuckles against the side of his head. "And we've got bot boy to blame for… here we go. Our Chaos, as told by my very own suit computer, is a mister Percy Jackson. Huh, strange. There's no murder and larceny in his resume, even though it is pretty damn thi-,"
"Repeat yourself, Rhodes." Steve snapped, "Did you say Percy Jackson?"
"Um, yes?" Rhodes answered, uncertain.
"Get out of there, Rhodes, Wanda." Steve was yelling, "Get the hell out of there!"
"Cap, what'chu going on abou… ohoooh no."
"Oh no?"
"Wanda."
"Maximoff? What about her?"
"She's gone."
She had indeed gone. Using every ounce of skill and will she had built up through her relentless hours of psychological and physical training, she had released her witchcraft powers into her mind and veins, phasing effortlessly through the glass like The Vision. Her aura aglow with warping scarlet energies, Wanda drifted down from the ceiling, still unnoticed by the terrorists as they rummaged through stacks of books.
Chaos, or Percy Jackson, or whoever he may be, stood overlooking their efforts with a disgusted scowl. "The parchment was discovered in a bloody pyramid tomb," he was saying, "You will not just find it on any old wood shelf. Look. Harder."
"Wanda." Captain's voice buzzed in her ear as her leather boots gently touched the carpeted floor. She lowered herself into a crouch, peaking discreetly over as the terrorists sorted through shelves of books. The hostages huddled together, trying their best not to whimper. One of them was murmuring a prayer in Arabic. "You have to get out of there. You don't know what you're walking into. Wanda!"
Chaos paced back and forth like a prowling wildcat, his blazing green eyes sweeping over the library. "Death," he said softly to himself, "Tethers of life split by Atropos herself. What glee she must feel to end the suffering of countless lives every minute of every day." He looked to his men, "Stop. We have company. Calvary has arrived, and they will recognize my…" he smiled unnervingly, "Shell."
Wanda closed her eyes and opened her mind to him.
An everlasting expanse of stars and all of the dark spaces between those stars greeted her. Lost cosmoses, erupting nebuli, dying planets, fires over countless realms. It was almost too much for the mortal mind to comprehend, but Wanda did not stop there. Foolishly, she dug deeper still, peeling away at the layers of iron that this man, this fallen deity, had arisen to ward off invaders such as herself. And so she saw him. A lone figure in a world of white. Standing, looking right back at her with wide, troubled eyes.
"I see you," Perseus Jackson said, his voice cracking as though he hadn't spoken in a millennia. "But I can't save from him."
"I see you," smiled Chaos, "And he's right. He can't."
Wanda coalesced her scarlet energies just in time to deflect Chaos' terribly powerful blow of his sword. The impact itself sent the witch stumbling backwards, but as she did so, she spread her fingers wide and unleashed a rippling stream of red power. Chaos grunted in disturbance as the energy washed over him, but his hideous smile returned. "A mortal with such power! But drawn from what source? Your powers of not of this world, Wanda Maximoff."
He knows my name.
The Scarlet Witch unleashed yet another supernatural wave of power upon her assailant, and this time it sent him reeling into a shelf. Books fell, and one particularly thick volume slammed into his head. Chaos was unfazed, and he watched on as his men rose their weapons and open fired on the intruder.
Wanda dove for cover, sleek steel projectiles shredding paper and wood alike as they sought to bury deep into the youngest Avenger. Panting with fear and strain, Wanda curled up into the fetal position and her ever present powers formed a protective dome over her person. Bullets ricocheted off her firmly set shield of glowing red.
Chaos looked on, deftly switching hands with his blade as his men surrounded Scarlet Witch, inching ever closer as they gradually reached to the conclusion that they had her trapped.
"Fools," her muttered.
Fallen books, all encased in red glow, rose from where they lay on the floor and, by the hundreds, slammed in unison against the four terrorist men. Noses and fingers broke and the men were buried under a mound of romance novels, history volumes, and Bibles of every language known to man.
The Scarlet Witch let loose an earth-rocking shockwave of pure force, blowing everything in every direction. But Chaos was ready, the blast barely tilting him where he stood, high and imposing.
"You mistake me for… for…" Chaos wrinkled Percy's face, "I don't even know what you are. Larvae? I've been trying to find the proper name. You call yourselves man. Human, mortal, domineering man. But you are just dust and nothing but… dear me, I'm monologuing, aren't I?"
Wanda lifted her hands and, with her will, toppled a shelf.
She didn't even see him move.
Chaos was behind her within an instant. She could feel the smile on his breath that tickled her ear, and she was still as stone as his burning hot hand came to rest almost fondly upon her shoulder. "You saw it, didn't you? The endlessness in my mind, my soul. You know what I am."
"No," Wanda said, "I don't."
"Humor me."
"Get off me," Wanda said. Her voice shook.
Chaos leaned forward, and Percy's lips nearly brushed her ear as he whispered again. "A lost angel? A fallen star? Is that what I am?"
"Wanda? Wanda what's going on?" Captain America's voice came to her through the commlink.
"Diabol," Wanda said at last, "Devil."
The following chuckle coaxed the chills that rained down her spine. "Accurate, I suppose. It's time to snap your tether, Wanda Maxim-,"
The shattering of glass interrupted the devil, and Wanda sent a pulse of power through her and into Chaos, petrifying him where he stood. She then rolled away, giving War Machine a clear shot. The auto turret on his shoulder locked on Chaos' frame, and the barrel blazed.
Those bullets reached their target.
They shattered and split into metallic dust, to fall and drift away.
Rhodes was speechless for a mild moment. "Okay, what?"
"'And the boy's little tin soldier toppled from the table…'" Chaos' grin was wicked, and again Wanda witnessed the wild energies within those horrible eyes. Old, primordial, and utterly profound.
War Machine dropped from the air and landed before this deity without a hint of what Wanda had seen, smashing his fist in Chaos' gut. He followed with a vicious haymaker and a knee to the jaw, and Chaos took the punishment without so much as a grunt.
When Rhodes swung again with his arm, Chaos caught it in his hand with little effort, and the metal bent and groaned under his fingers. "It seems that my search here has been fruitless, but at least allow me to pick a most succulent apple."
A blur. The gleaming bronze sword flashed, cutting the reinforced armor like rivers through earth; with unmatched might and inevitability. Rhodes earned a deep slash on his thigh, but before he could react to that…
Shnk!
War Machine was released, and he stumbled back in shock, holding his arm. His visor slid up so his stunned and dazed eyes could gaze upon the stump where his hand had once been.
"Christ…" Rhodes muttered, and it seemed that he had breathed that word out in earnest as Chaos stepped forth to behead him with the sword.
He never got the chance.
Hands outstretched and jaw clenched, Wanda held out both her hands in a willful effort to keep Chaos' sword at bay, and before the dark god could break her bonds, a flying shield slammed into his side, and this time Chaos was truly flabbergasted.
He toppled, but righted himself imminently, a scowl twisting his godly features.
"Maximoff, see to the hostages. Sam, Rhodes needs medical attention."
"Way ahead of you, cap," The Falcon swooped down to the fallen War Machine, who knelt there holding his bloodless stump.
But before he could reach him, Chaos intercepted, slashing his sword out and forcing Sam Wilson do careen aside in the air putting all his aerodynamic skills to work. But the tip of his sword did pierce the Falcon's boot and blood spurted. Sam cursed his way through the pain, pulling away to a safe distance.
Leveling the small turret on his gauntlet, the Falcon unleashed a flurry of bullets on the deity, whose features became liquid and clear until he was a man entirely made of water, the small bullets becoming harmless little trinkets.
Almost father-like, Chaos lowered his sword and rested his hand upon Rhodes' armored shoulder, who shuddered at the impact as though he could feel it.
"What are you doing, Jackson?" Steve Rogers was tense, his eyes on the deity.
"You thought you knew what Jackson was," smiled Chaos, gently. "He was a vessel. The only one that could truly bear me."
Wanda had finished sending the mental and irresistible command to the hostages, telling them to exist the building calmly. "Stay away from him," she cried out to her captain as he stepped nearer, "He's-… he is-,"
"Dangerous, I know," Steve Rogers said, eyes on Chaos.
"I am not Jackson," Jackson's face smiled, "Unlike him… I show…" He raised his hand, and while all witnessing Avengers stepped back to defend themselves against the frightening force they so expected, what rather occurred was stunning on an incalculable level. "… Mercy."
Rhodes' hand was replaced with an entirely new and fresh organism, with five appendages. The only thing wrong and unholy about his new hand, however, that it was not made from the flesh of man, but some silvery black substance, cold and almost lifeless.
He flexes his new fingers. "Oh God," he breathed, then fell forward, consciousness fleeing.
"Ayo-ma kluthos rhash a-lythvatha," Chaos spoke in words no human could possibly understand, for the tongue was unknown to man, to the gods in the skies and the warrior entities in their golden city. "That is my name, protectors of Midgard."
He rose his hands. All Avengers backed away as the earth began to tremble, the whole Alexandria Library shaking with an unseen might.
"This goes against all logical standards," the Vision said in the commlink, "but the Alexandiran Library's lake is… rising."
"EVERYBODY OUT!" Steve Rogers waved his arm, rushing passed Chaos and grabbing Rhodes' under his arm. Grunting, he hoisted the War Machine with noticeable strain. His wings folding, Sam Wilson landed on the other side of Colonel Rhodes to aid his captain.
"Wanda, we need help here!"
The roar of the rising lake must have been too much for her to hear, Captain America thought, as she stood still, staring at Chaos in a dazed manner. "Maximoff! Wanda!"
She blinked, looking to her captain, then back at the deity who stood with no comprehension to what was around him, his arms upheld like he was beholding some wondrous gift.
Without her captain's consent, Wanda Maximoff broke into a dash for Chaos. Steve Rogers called after her, but she took no heed as a shelf fell over, threatening to crush her. Giving it little notice, Wanda merely reached out for the shelf and, in a flash of red, it blew away to crash in the opposite direction.
She reached the dark god, and the power she felt in his wake was almost unbearable. Crying out to the God she knew in her native language, the Scarlet Witch flung forth her hands and clasped them over Chaos's head, her thumbs digging into his temples.
She breeched his mind just as the glass ceiling shattered and the water came down to crash upon them all.
…
The abyss was simply an expanse of everlasting whiteness, so bright that it nearly burned her eyes, and so utterly blank that Wanda's mind began to ache with the sheer abnormality of it.
A man sat in the blank emptiness, knees pulled up to his chest, head bowed. Wanda, arms wide like she was trying to balance herself as she walked, gradually made her way to the slight figure that was Perseus Jackson.
Wanda was close, but she did not know how close. Measurement was an impossibility, but what she did know that she could touch him. And so she did.
He moved in a blur.
Before Wanda could react, his hand had clamped down on her wrist in a vice-like grip of something far stronger than iron. She tried to pull away, to part herself from this lost god, for the power emanating from him was just as potent and blinding as Chaos.
Percy Jackson rose his head.
His eyes were smooth, ebony river stones. Gleaming, and yet with no irises or whites. He was crying. Tears leaked out form under those black orbs, running down his cheeks and dripping from his sharp jaw.
"Where is your heart?" Wanda breathed, aghast. It was not the throbbing organ in his chest that she was referring to, but the soul that every human must have. It was gone, she could not see it in him.
He was entirely without an aura.
"What are you doing?" Percy hissed, pulling her closer with a sharp tug. "He'll kill you."
"I think," Wanda swallowed, her fingertips brushing his cold, hard cheek and the tears that spilled. They were burning hot, and it seared her skin. "I think you are stronger than him."
Percy recoiled like a wounded animal. "Don't touch me," he scowled, shuffling back, "Don't ever touch me."
Wanda did not know how, but she had an understanding of this being before her. She knew he was something she should know nothing of. She knew his properties and his domains. She was gaining a mild inkling of exactly what Percy Jackson had become, and what he once was.
"Where is your heart, Wanda Maximoff?"
Chaos was standing a few paces behind her. Percy grimaced – not in fear, but pain, and tried to rise. His legs failed him.
Wanda was watching Chaos intently, whose black wool coat billowed around his legs by some unfelt breeze.
"Did it wither away like Pietro?" The face he stole twisted into a horrible smile of mockery. "Are you left cold and heartle-,"
With a flash of fury Wanda lunged forth and seized Chaos by the throat, tackling him over. She could not use her powers in this place, so she used the next best thing. She rose her fist and slammed it into Chaos' nose, and she felt it break under her knuckles.
Chaos cried out in agony, and what sounded like sobs bubbled up from his chest. Wanda soon found that it was not sorrow that Chaos emitted, but glee. Trembling, dreadful, appalling glee.
"Ohohohooooo," the blood that leaked from his nostrils was black, "One little flick of the forked tongue and she comes upon me with all her might and rage. Raw humanity. And how long have I been coaxing you, dearest Jackson? Have I not told you the songs and currents of the stars?" Chaos sat up, "Have I not been a rewarding master?"
Percy's blank black eyes were wary, but he did not move. He cringed, as though speaking alone brought horrific agony. "Master?" he gasped, "Y… Y… you're a… you're a leech." He rose his face, a distant green flame flickering over the smooth, shadowy wetness of his eyes. "A parasite."
Chaos' smile vanished. He rose to his feet, all humor instantly obliterated. "There are things one must do to gain his former position. I sat upon a throne of stars. I was winter and the punishing summer. I was God's swift and terrible sword."
"You are nothing!" Percy struggled to stand, "Nothing!"
With a growl of animalistic vehemence, Chaos stalked for Perseus. Wanda blocked his path, hands before her as if to ward away some nameless evil.
"Wanda, no," Percy muttered.
"No!" Crowed Chaos, the face he stole smiling wickedly, "No, let her protect you, Jackson! Let her die for what you are!" Within the merest instant, his hand enclosed around Wanda's throat, "Watch her die! I tried being a forgiving, understand mentor to you, Jackson. I made you into something so surreal," he was coming unhinged, "so immaculate! I tasted the winds and the world for the first time in all ages, thanks to you! Let me do the same. Let me give you the godhood you are called to behold!"
Wanda scratched at Chaos' forearm, drawing more black blood, but the dark god took no heed. Percy's aura had returned, and if Chaos was considered a dark god, than Percy must be the eclipse. A raging, fathomless power warped around Percy's body. How is it that he could call upon his powers, but not Wanda or Chaos?
"Let her go," Percy said.
"Show me my creation," Chaos breathed, "Show me the fruits of my labor."
Wanda's boots were wet, soaked in blood? No, water. Why were they soaked in water?
"This isn't about me," said the Exiled Prince. "Let. Her. Go."
"It's always been about you, Jackson!" Chaos barked, "From the very beginning! It was always about you!" He pointed with one finger. "I came to this library to grant you one last gift, an artifact left by the Egyptians. But this place had changed so much. I want to release you to the world, teeming with energies and powers that Zeus and Gaea and Odin himself will fear above all else!"
"You're insane!"
"Thank you very much!"
Wanda drove her elbow back into Chaos' abdomen and twisted herself from his grip.
Percy struck with the speed and inevitability of a peel of lighting. A flash of green snaking fire, and Chaos was thrown, screaming and laughing, countless miles away.
And the whiteness split.
…
Percy woke.
He stared up at the idly spinning fan, and what first came to his mind was how the Hades had I gotten here.
The last thing he remembered was… was…
The girl in her red leather jacket – Wanda – tearing herself away from Chaos, and Percy just snapping… striking like a cobra with frightening power and force. A power that scared even its bearer.
But how had he gotten here?
The television in the corner was flickering. On and off, like barely grasping to the only signal it could find. Its antenna was literally a clothes hanger. Percy sat up, and to his surprise, he found that motion no longer summoned great pain. He swept his legs over the side of the bed, peeling the sheets off his sweaty chest. His feet met something hard and pointy, and he inhaled sharply at the cold impression.
Percy peaked over the bed and wrinkled his brow at what he saw.
"Mythomagic figures…?" He remembered Frank Zhang had a little, non-so-serious hobby of collecting them. They splayed out over the floor in a discarded mess, along with a Mythomagic board. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, black shirts, steel-studded belts, and jeans everywhere.
But Percy barely paid heed to any of this. His eyes were on the Mythomagic figure of the god Hades. Something in his consciousness was screaming at him, egging him on, urging him to… to remember.
Remember what?
He bent over and touched the figure, and he recoiled as a flash of pain overtook his head in a vice of ice and fire. Percy Jackson groaned, burying his fingers deep into his raven-black hair.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" The voice was cold, distant. Edging on sorrow.
Percy jumped, snatching the pen from his pocket the clicking the end. Anaklusmos sprung forth, a source of light in an otherwise dark room.
"There's no need for that, Percy." The voice said, "I was your friend once, I think. Put that away."
He did not. "Who are you?" The Exiled Prince demanded. "Where am I? What happened to Wanda, Captain America, the others? Where is Cha-,"
"I had little time," said the voice, soaked in regret. "And I had come for you. But they are safe, I am sure."
Percy was silent for a moment. "If I put my sword away… will you show yourself?"
"Yes."
He recapped his sword, watching it sink back into a golden pen. "Tell me who you are."
All the shadows began to twist and shudder, rippling and withdrawing. The darkness in the room subsided, no longer smothering the light of the lamp or the sunshine from the window. In the room's center stood a mere boy, maybe 17 or 18, scrawny and short. His hair was inky black, curling around his moonlike face, with eyes black as death.
"You don't remember me," he was saying, "I was seeded in Tartarus just like you were, implanted by a forgotten entity forgotten even by legend. It erased me from this world, and we drifted among the plain of stars and space aimlessly for years."
"Who are you, Nico?"
He smiled. "You just said my name. A corner in your mind remembers me. You were always so powerful, Percy."
"Your… name?" Percy scratched his head, frowning, "I don't know your name. I've never seen you before in my life, Death Boy."
The ghostly boy's smile widened, and he leaned forward intently. "Say it." He whispered, "Say my name."
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Percy erupted from his seat on the bed, waving his arms madly.
"Say it."
"Nico di Angelo! Who are you?"
…
I know somebody will nitpick me somewhere down the line about the sword cutting off Colonel James Rhodes' hand. Celestial Bronze isn't supposed to cut mortal flesh… blah blah blah… whatever. Let's just go with Chaos did something to Riptide the allowed her to harm mortals.
And no, Chaos is not the Creator of the world, and he is from no Greek mythology.
Anyway, I'm 17 now. My birthday was sometime last week. A very good friend of mine surprised me with a birthday cake she made herself and a sweet little card. It was the single nicest thing anybody has ever done for me.
Love you people.