Thank you's first! Lauraa-x: I've missed the team too. Glad the code wasn't easy to figure out lol. This chappie is cray. Then we'll have one chap back with Ari and then we're back to Arthur so we'll get ample time with the both of them for two looong chapters coming up. Questions will be answered! (so keep asking them) lol. Thanks for reading, hun. Nina: Cobb, Eames and Yusuf are indeed aware of what is happening to Ariadne. Arthur has filled them in, they just didn't hear her scared voice on the phone like he had to. Thanks for talkin with me! Lazarus76: Well, thank ya buddy.

Chapter 10: War Time, Baby Mine.

THE RED COATS ARE COMING. Get out.

Not fifteen seconds later the ground shook, the windows blew out and a crack ran along the wall and the ceiling. "Get out!" directed Arthur. The team snatched their laptops, shoved them into their bags, grabbed what weapons they could reach and sprinted into the hallways towards the stairwell. It was times like these that the rest of the team was grateful for Arthur's specificity and strictness. In case of emergency, he insisted they leave their duffels or backpacks by the door and only remove what was currently needed for however long they needed it and then put it back. So they were ready to hop up and fly out on less than a moment's notice. And they all were this time except Eames chastised himself for being too cluttered. He'd had to leave behind two of his favorite printed shirts and quite a large sum of socks which he'd carelessly strewn the room over. Halfway down the hall the rooms aligned on the side of the building with views to the outside broke off. They headed for the stairwell. In good fortune, the hotel not only had stairwells on the sides of the building but an emergency one in the center as well. It already had chunks missing; pieces of the wall and stairs above fell in boulders on each landing. They hopped and dodged over them. The twelfth floor was a ways up from the bottom but luckily short of halfway to the top. Cobb yelled over the sounds of shatters and bangs, "I think someone knows what we're up to."

"Told you they'd find us if they wanted!" Eames shouted over the din as well as finding humor in the irony, "And looks like they really wanted to!"

At this point panicked citizens were filing and pushing into the stairway with them. It created more chaos and noise and threatened to separate the team. Some pushy men rammed Arthur into the wall. With a hand on his gun, he gave them a death glare. People elbowed and shimmied in between them. He could see Yusuf's head straining to look over heads and catch one of their eyes. Cobb was pinned against the rail, people moving too fast for him to step into the current. Eames—where was Eames? "Artie!" His gruffness was almost glazed over by other squeals and screeches and giant booms that came with projectile concrete. Nonetheless, the Point followed the voice and bumped people out of his way to the railing to look over. Eames was two landings down. "Get to the bottom and meet in the alley."

"What?"

At the top of his lungs, Arthur repeated, "Get to the bottom and meet in the alley!" Eames nodded and continued maneuvering his way through. The Point also shouted at the top of the Forger's head, "Be careful, the Hoods are out there." Again Eames paused and pulled his gun from his belt. It elicited gasps from the people closest to him to notice but the scrambling figures were really too distraught to care. Eames smirked, "And I will lead them on a merry chase!" Five floors away from the bottom… Arthur shot a cursory look towards Cobb and Yusuf and then hopped over the rail. When on the next floor it only seemed to get more crowded, he took his handgun and shot up into the air. The mobs recoiled, covered their heads and crouched against the edges. The three men took the stunned stillness as opportunity to forge ahead. The people let the men pass before they filled the stairs again and tried to herd out.

When they finally pulled out of the stairwell they were greeted with a dismal sight. The lobby of the hotel in flames on the opposite side and spreading further in their direction. One side of the building was caved in on itself, the heavy materials once used to keep the frame were now toppled on top of people. The side closest to them was the most intact though the ceiling and the sides were falling. Furniture and luggage raining down, frames creaking, people screaming. They fell into the alley more so than ran there when another explosion ripped through the center and took down the rest of the building with it. Innocents, injured and dead, were strewn through the streets and the alley. But it was quieter…almost eerily so. Instinctively, Yusuf, Arthur and Cobb formed a close knit circle and pulled out their handguns (those of them that didn't already have them drawn). With hurricanes, its always the second side—after the eye and the calm of the storm—that's the most damaging. Behind the dumpster, Eames peeked out and then joined them. "So are we all on the same page in thinking this is the Hoods?" Yusuf asked breathlessly.

Cobb added, "I don't think its coincidence. And it's too attention grabbing for Cobol."

"I thought Saito fixed that."

"For me. Not for you…" Cobb replied to Arthur and the Point shrugged. His mind was too preoccupied on surveying their surroundings. "We normally wouldn't go out in the open…we'd want to avoid crowds, potential authorities. We'd run deeper into the alleys." Arthur's head turned and his eyes slid to the side to peer deeper into crevice of the two buildings. Cobb caught his drift, "Always hide where your prey will seek refuge."

Arthur's head bobbed up and down, "Head to the front. Get lost in the crowd."

Their huddle dropped their bags behind the dumpster. Well—Yusuf's had been lost in the chaos. Cobb's bag's side was ripped open and he'd had to hold it together to keep what little he still had in it. Eames used his to bump people so he was fine and Arthur had left his duffel in the stairway after he determined it'd slow him down and only carried his satchel (which held all the important things like electronics, notes, fake passports/ids, etc). They could always double back around when/if the coast was clear. They opened up and emerged into the pools of people freaking out but sporadically so they wouldn't appear to know one another. Flustered voices complained that their cell phones wouldn't work. Several people were hunched over and tending to the wounded. The men didn't let any of it fool them. They scanned the crowd for anyone off, anyone who seemed displaced—a Hood could be standing beside them or feigning a cry over a dead body in front of them. A young man was frantically moving through the cliques begging for information on his loved one. "Have you seen my girlfriend?" He tugged at a woman's arm, "Have you seen my girlfriend?" Then to the air, "Has anyone seen my girlfriend?" Desperately he grabbed onto Arthur's shoulders, "Excuse me, sir, have you seen my girlfriend?"

Cobb looked pass a few people over to his right diagonal and found Arthur being hassled by a victim. The Point waved him off, "Sorry. No." The boy, no older than twenty, dressed in ripped up jeans, black converses and a black hoodie with a smiley face printed across the front. Cobb squinted, the boys fingernails were painted black…and his attention seemed solely focused on Arthur. He wasn't continuing to look around at the tops of heads for his allegedly missing loved one. A distraction? With another swift look at the people around himself first, he studied everyone near Arthur. Nothing else was out of the ordinary; no other figure seemed interested in them. The Extractor then caught Eames' eye. Too direct and pointed. Like he'd been waiting for Cobb to look his way. His head jutted up subtly, gesturing behind him. The blue eyes of the Extractor flitted to the man behind Eames: Also in jeans—not ripped but worn and dirty—and a brown hoodie with holes and a red stripe down the back. He was sitting on the ground near a family mourning and trying to tend to their injured mother/wife. He was positioned close enough to look like the brooding older brother but the devil was in the details. He was far enough from what would've been his little sister for Eames and Cobb to recognize a disconnection. He wore the hood over his head and bowed it down to detract attention but his eyes were cut to the side—watching Arthur. "Are you sure?" The desperate one still pulled at Arthur's jacket.

A hand rested on Cobb's shoulder and when he whipped around—it was only Yusuf's face in his. Yusuf gritted between unmoving teeth. "Look over there…" His hand pulled Cobb slightly in the direction he meant. Eames followed Cobb's eye line. Yusuf had looked away and continued to make movement and seem lost. In the crowd several feet in front of Arthur was another young man in a hoodie. Cobb and Eames locked eyes and simultaneously rested their hands on their guns. The more they looked, the more they found men and women in hoodies trying to blend with the crowds.

Arthur backed the man off of him, "Look, I don't know." And squeezed passed some other innocents to put distance between them.

"Have you seen your girlfriend, then?"

Arthur pivoted and stared at the boy hard and charily. He felt other eyes on him too so he allowed them to scan and noticed Eames a few feet behind the man in front of him: his hand on his gun, his face set in urgency. "Or I guess it's your EX-girlfriend." The once frazzled victim smirked at the Point Man and pulled his Hood over his head—Yusuf and then Cobb and Eames noticed others scattered through the crowd were doing the same—"Ariadne, is it?"

If that man wanted to live, he really shouldn't have said her name. Arthur had an inkling the man was off but now it was confirmed. Before the smart ass could pull his gun out and cock it, Arthur grabbed his opponent's wrist, twisted him around into a chokehold and pushed his arm against his body until he could feel the shoulder blade crack. The nameless man fell to the ground groaning. He rolled when Arthur made to turn and pulled a gun out of nowhere with his good arm, aiming at the Point. Arthur grabbed his wrist again in time to move it away (sadly the Hood still fired it and the dodge caused it to hit an innocent. Eames felt the man behind him stand up and heard him pull the hammer on the gun behind his head. Swiftly, Eames knocked his arm up, elbowed him in the ribs, blocked two punches with his forearms, flipped the man over onto his back and pointed the Hood's own gun on himself as he pulled the trigger. He looked behind to see four or five making their way up. Two lunged for Cobb (he was closest) who was forced to use his fists after his gun was bumped out of his grip. The Forger shot two using his own gun and met one in the face with the butt of the new one.

Arthur used the Hoods arm to flip him onto his stomach, sat on his legs, used the man's hand to fire at an assailant in front of him then wrenched the gun from his hand to throw it to Cobb. The Point then proceeded to pull back his other arm until both of the Hood's appendages were debilitated. Rolling off of him, another Hood tackled him as he was lying on his back and squeezed their hands around his neck. The Hood brought Arthur's upper back off the ground and then rammed him into the concrete repeatedly. On the fourth, Arthur grabbed onto the Hood's forearms and used his opponent's force to help him kick his leg and roll them both over his shoulder so that he was on top. Arthur punched the man twice and in return got punched himself.

Poor Yusuf was caught without a gun as well. His strategy was to duck and dodge. Here and there he managed to knee his foe in the crotch. Or kick one that wasn't expecting him in the back. He was successful with several punches before he was twisted into a chokehold by one. "Eames!" The Chemist waved. Thankfully, the Forger saw his struggle, shot the man and tossed him the extra gun.

Arthur's assailant went limp. A hole blown through the side of his head. Arthur pushed himself off, briefly catching Yusuf's eye and thanking him. Seeing Yusuf then widen his at a point over Arthur's shoulder, he elbowed back quickly. Quick enough to jab the Hood in the ribs but not quick enough to avoid a bullet grazing his side from the opposite direction. He took notice of where it came from, grabbed the Hood he'd elbowed by the shoulders and twisted him to shield Arthur from the next rain of bullets—which effectively tore into the stomach of the man he was holding. Now Arthur pulled a gun from his belt. A Hood jumped on top of his back and tried to knock him out with a blow of the butt of his gun. The Point-who still had to deflect bullets with the dead Hood he was holding—dropped the dead body, reached back and flipped the new one into place for a couple more bullets, then fired some shots of his own to get rid of the menace. "Arthur!" Cobb called and nodded to a figure standing away from the brawl. He wore the same uniform the rest of them donned for the day. He simply stared at Arthur and waited. So the Point took a deep breath and power walked to the guy. He pushed and shot as he went…

It felt like a western showdown. Time felt like it stood still. The gunshots and the yelling sounded more distant and separate than they really were. Arthur was not afraid, he was livid. He stood close enough that the Hood could reach out and rest his hand on the Point's shoulder if he wanted to. Arthur was an instinctual fighter; an intuitive, precise, focused combatant. He not only struck and evaded with his hands and feet but with his ears, his eyes and his brain. And he did so in what seemed a practiced, perfected, effortless manner-Like his namesake. Whereas the Chemist did his best to tussle, the Extractor brawled like it was a bar fight and the Forger wrangled his opponents like animals in the outback—Arthur rode in like a king of knights and battled. Gallantly. Suddenly the figure spoke, "You might want to brush up a bit…" and then pointed to a miniscule clip on device at the nape of his hood, "We're on camera." Arthur heard the scrape of the Hood's blade opening so he was ready to catch the arm that flew through the air towards his chest with both hands. The adversary used his free fist to chop Arthur at the neck where the pressure point is located. Arthur did fall to his knees but swung his leg around and knocked the Hood's leg out from beneath him. The Point lunged for the other but the Hood rolled and Arthur only caught the ground. They rolled together. The Hood to his side to attempt another thrust of his knife towards Arthur's neck and Arthur to his back to—again—catch it and kick the man in the stomach. They both rolled to get up and swung at each other back and forth, tit for tat, equally as skilled at deflecting. Arthur lifted his gun but the Hood caught the weapon and twisted Arthur around so the Point's back was against his stomach. The knifed hand went to slit Arthur's throat where one would normally go in for a chokehold but Arthur beat his hand there and pushed it down away from the neck. The result was a long slice from below his bottom right rib to below his belly button. He groaned but then threw his head back to butt the other man in the head, chopped the elbow at the same time he threw his forearm the opposite direction and broke the arm holding the knife. Arthur reared back to elbow him in the sternum then kept turning and fired a shot through his chest. As the Hood slumped to the ground, the victor pressed his hand to his shirt and looked at the blood on his hand. Behind him he heard yells of retreat and looked to find several men dead on the ground, innocent hotel guests that survived the crossfire ducking and his team members finishing off their opponents as well. The few Hoods left disappeared into the alley. Then he rolled the man over and leaned down over the small camera. When he was satisfied he walked back towards his team.

Xxxxxx

They hotwired a car and hightailed it out of there. They doubled back for their belongings behind the dumpster than drove a few hours. Luckily, they found an apartment building further North and convinced the landlord to let them have one without questions or lease. This was done with several hundred thousand dollars in cash.

They all looked worse for wear. Arthur had a cut lip, flesh grazed off his side, a slice in his stomach, a ripped sleeve, and a split eyebrow. Cobb had the remnants of a bloody nose and a cut lip, a few nicks on his upper left arm, holes in the knees of his pants and a pulled thigh muscle. Yusuf donned a black eye and bloody ear, a slash across his leg above the kneecap, and an arm pulled out of socket. And Eames came away with a busted lip, a bruised jaw, and a bullet wedged in his shoulder. Out of all of them, he got beat up the least. That night, they focused on patching themselves up. Especially the knife wounds and bullet holes. It was all they could do to do that, collect their thoughts and pick a schedule for rotation. One of them needed to be awake in case something happened again so they could have ample time to heed the warning.

The next morning, they endeavored through the pain (they were sort of used to it in this business). Eames dozed while he combed through the internet, "Arthur. Arthur take a look at this," In all of ten seconds, Eames had awakened from his static state. "I found a blog with an article about the Hoods. They hid it pretty well but must've not been able to strip it." The Point was on the phone with one of his contacts. He politely finished up, thanked for the help he would provide and then got down in the floor next to the Forger. Eames read as his index finger underlined the words as emphasis. The text was: 'My cousin was actually down the road from the arson in '10 and got some pictures of them running by…* *, * *. They creepily resemble those shadow things from the first Lord of the Rings, am I right? Anyway…these guys pride themselves on being freegans. They supposedly live off the land, recycle their waste…icky stuff…but they're so fanatic about it that they want to burn down every company that makes it difficult for others—'

"Where is this going, Eames?"

"They're invisible for a reason right? No can find them unless they want to be found. There's no record of them because they don't have a footprint. They—" He pointed to the sentence in the paragraph—"'live off the land'. If they're in Maine it's going to be hard to live off the land in the city, even underground. Or on the coast. It's too open nearest the water. We need to find where a ton of un-commercialized land is: Some woods, some forest, farmland, what have you. We need to go there and start poking around. There were some other things but the rest of the page wouldn't load all the way…one clue is better than none though."

Arthur nodded and the clapped his friend (a loosely used term, here) on the back, "I'll regret saying this but you are a genius, Mr. Eames."

The Brit chortled and polished his nails on his shirt. As he began packing up the equipment he corrected, "Well, some credit goes to the bloggers. I must say though UlysS and WD40gurl are lackluster urls for children of today's internet."
xxxxxx

By nine they were packed and in a rental headed further east with three major geographical locations they deemed plausible hiding places. There were more wooded areas closer to Canada. They set up shop in a hotel central to them all. The first was a patch of farmland they hiked out to. Asked some questions from the farmers; the land turned out to be even and you could see for miles so for a hidden organization the use of it would be moot. They made it as far as the second location—undeveloped Forest near the border— before dark when it started pouring rain, thundering and lightning like no one's business. They would have to retire back and search early in the morning much to the group's dismay. Like clockwork, by the time the world switched from pm to am, Arthur was back on his computer looking up plots of privately bought land. Then—

"Shit." He banged the side of the screen, "Damn, computer froze." It could've been possible that he thought shaking his laptop and flicking the edge of the screen would bring it back. Diligently, he rubbed circles on the track pad with his thumb and heaved a sigh when the cursor mocked him by staying stubbornly still. The screen flickered and what looked like a pop up jumped into the middle of his screen. "What the hell?"

Cobb, who'd unwrapped a honeybun from the vending machine outside and joined his friend on the couch, looked over his shoulder, "Virus?"

"No my computer is protected heavily against that." The blue screen of death lit up the interface and endless numbers scrambled across and on top of one another. Then a live stream opened up: the corner decorated with the date and time. It was hard to tell what they were looking at, it was zoomed in so far. But it looked like dark woolen material. The camera focus jumped back and they were able to determine a cloaked figure with its head bowed, even though it was a side view and from what they guessed were the shoulders up. First, a deep, greedy voice starting lulling out of frame, "Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart. Never to part, Baby of mine." Yusuf had gone to change out of his rain soaked clothes and was walking back into the main room as he noticed the intent, befuddled stares of his colleagues. Carefully and quietly he tip toed to look over the back of the couch. He didn't want to disturb their train of thought because he guessed they were reading an article or something. Except when he glanced over the figure had taken a shaky breath. "What did you fi—" The two men each lifted a hand and shushed the Chemist. It was suspenseful: the still video of a Hood, waiting for something to happen, wondering if they wanted to see it if it did. Again the voice sung, "If they knew all about you, they'd end up loving you too. All those same people who scold you…" It got grittier yet boastful, "what they'd give just for theright to hold you…" Small, dirty, white hands came up and covered the cloaked figure's head.

The same voice returned except a domineering growl sounded, "Look at the camera." In response, the material of the Hood wrinkled and rustled as if the head inside was refusing and shaking their head. "Let them see." Eames was the only one who took Arthur's suggestion about a nap. Changed into his worn sweatpants and riddled with exhaustion, he let his body sink into the bed. Each muscle relaxed from the feet up and sank him into much needed rest. "Eames…You may—I think the Hoods-" Yusuf's voice called wearily, the tone took on the uneasiness he felt staring at the screen. It alarmed him to the point of thinking a group of hooded beings were holding his team gunpoint. He rolled out of bed, cocked his gun and creaked open the door: There only proved to be Yusuf and Cobb huddled over the device in Arthur's lap, all with perturbed expressions on their visage. They didn't acknowledge his entrance and ignored him his entire saunter to see what had them mesmerized. In one word, he understood.

"Ariadne." Demanded the ominous presence. The Point practically jumped out of his seat and started pressing keys to zoom, to connect, he didn't know…but she was right there and he should do something. The keyboard and mouse were still locked up, however. "Don't make me tell you again. Let them see you."

Her head didn't raise but turned. The team leaned in, peering. The fabric folded and curved so that only one brown eye—watery, bloodshot and green with a fresh bruise blinked at the camera. The video went through a series of shaky cuts. One up at the ceiling, one of a tiny fist hitting something, a hulking hand twisting and wrenching a smaller and paler wrist, the ground, deep red wool and the blade of a knife all to the soundtrack of Ariadne's 'no's, stop's, please's and unintelligible sounds of fear. The frame steadied on her hand spread out and flexed, attempting to curl into a fist while metal sliced across it. Despite being muffled like his paw was clapped over her mouth, her voice rasped, groaned and whimpered. Similar to the pattern of static or a buffering download were the next series of frames. That same large hand covering hers and dragging it along the wall, blood smeared behind it, his sleeved hand on her mouth, his mouth on her ear, dark tendrils of hair fisted in his hand. They played in a loop, getting faster and faster. Arthur's knuckles were white as they gripped the sides of the screen and got whiter with each "Get off of me" choked out of the Architect in the background. Her tormentor never acknowledged her pleads…the voice the team decided they hated chuckled back at her and crooned, "From your head down to your toes, you're not much, goodness knows. But you're so precious to me. Sweet as can be. Baby of Mine."

Then it all stopped and she was sitting alone against a dirtied concrete looking wall, knees in her chest, her cowl covering her legs so that only dirtied feet poked out. She sat slumped, facing them and tugged her hood over her eyes, the wool stained with her wounded palm. The camera zoomed out and her smeared handprints painted the wall above her head. Drips of blood inched down slowly here and there. The message the camera man/faceless voice was trying to get across was unmistakable. For written in Ariadne's life liquid was: They Are Mine. The screen went black and a box informing him of a file dump lit up. Arthur was quick to turn the computer over, take off the back and pull the battery out so the computer would shut off before they could delete all his files. The rest of them stared shell shocked into the space where the screen had been, no doubt each mind raced. Eames deadpanned, "That was one hell of a greeting card…" Acting indifferent (even as Cobb could see his hands shaking), Arthur advised the rest of them pull up their computers so he could cloak their IP addresses and make sure an effort to dump their devices was prevented. They found themselves paralyzed in their positions, dumbly gaping at Arthur. "What are you standing around for? We need to secure our research." Yusuf opened and closed his mouth like he was going to speak, Cobb shook his head still in disbelief of her conditions, Eames was the lone man to follow the orders and help the Point with the computers but he had a far off gaze as he obeyed. How was this not affecting Arthur? How was he not breaking dishes, or shouting, or shooting people? That's precisely how Eames expected him to react. How all of them expected him to react. Half the reason they were hesitant to make too much movement was in case he should consider them moving targets. The Englishman's face contorted as he watched Arthur's lenient attitude and exchanged apprehensive looks with the other two observers. He may not care to admit it but Eames knew Arthur was sharp minded. He was certain the Point had read the same words on the wall the rest of them did. And with the hints that their girl had been raped—the words baby of mine were adequately pointed. The devils had impregnated her and if it made The Forger's insides boil and itch to skin them all alive than he was sure Arthur had already pictured their heads on stakes.

After his fingers flitted over the different keyboards and a 'pending' download bar showed up on each, he stood and traipsed over to the kitchen coolly. His face was completely devoid of any unease or distress. But Arthur was in denial. The images he'd just witnessed looked straight out of a horror movie. It was scripted, directed and edited he was sure. It was one of those youtube prank videos. It wasn't Ari…it couldn't be. So why were those caramel colored eyes so familiar? That voice—he knew that voice. He got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water routinely. Cobb sensed something way off in Arthur's non-chalance; he rose from the couch and cautiously followed Arthur into the kitchen. They all felt it. That feeling when you're watching a thriller and you know something is fixing to pop out. You don't know what and you don't know when but you feel it coming so you squeeze your arm chair and wince. Dom watched the Point raise the glass to his mouth from a few paces away.

Arthur swore he knew those eyes…

Filled with laughter. Crinkling at the corners. Squeezing shut. "Stop tickling me!"
Droopy. Crusted corners. Prying open. "I hate mornings..."
Inspired. Ablaze. Wide, envisioning. "What about a hotel for the second level?"
Narrowing under furrowed eyebrows. Fierce. "I'm not about to let you chain me down for your own ego!"
Soft. Through eyelashes. "I love you too."

He knew those eyes. He paused once the cup reached his mouth. From there his eyes darted from side to side recalling the video. The blood, the voice, the messages: they are mine…baby of mine….
"They got her pregnant..." and without a single sip, he dropped the glass and let it shatter on the ground.

The Englishman was going back and forth on whether the stop, drop and roll technique would be a smart thing to perform. He also pondered crouching down behind the couch and covering his head with his arms like they suggest you do during tornados because he suspected one would rip through that hotel any second. A hurried peek at Cobb and Yusuf's stationary stances convinced him to forgo the thought. Yusuf winced as Arthur turned towards them. The Point had taken his shoes off when they got in earlier so he was now freely moving on top of broken glass in just socks. Arthur looked at Cobb, "They got Ariadne pregnant." His friend only dared to nod his head and hold his hands out towards Arthur cautiously. Arthur closed his eyes and sucked air in through his nose, "They raped her…"; a shuddering breath released it. Another inhale, "And now," the glass broke more under his weight, "She's pregnant…And I—" His eyes shot open, "—will boil them in their own blood."

Eames swallowed hard, "That sounds gruesome."
xxxxxx

We're getting closerrrrr. It's fixing to pick up. More. Promise.

What do you think Arthur is actually gonna do to them Hoods?
Next chapter: Who sent the Red Coat warning, Ariadne's secretive obgyn visit, another message from Wolffe to Arthur and-a surprise. (Guesses about the surprise would be fun!)

review prettyplz.