Jeff was being led from the engineering room back to his cell when all of the lights went off in a single, blinding instant. If that was alarming, it was nothing compared to the computerized voice telling them that they were about to lose their life support systems.
What followed were twenty minutes of absolute chaos. Red emergency lights came on, bathing everything in an eerie glow as his two guards tried to figure out what the hell was happening and what they were supposed to do about it. The temperature began to drop noticeably, and warnings kept blaring over the speakers, but no instructions. When the guards tried to drag Jeff along some pre-planned evacuation route, they kept encountering doors that refused to open, either without power or locked by some security protocol. Jeff almost managed to slip away in the confusion, but he was snatched before he could get far.
Before long, Barrett appeared and stalked towards him, looking like a demon in the crimson light.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
Jeff gave him a bland look.
"Mechanical trouble?" he asked.
Barrett's expression contorted in fury.
"I don't know what you did, Tracy," he hissed, leaning into Jeff's space. "But I-"
He broke off, pressing a hand to his ear. His rage only seemed to grow as he listened.
"How is it," he said to Jeff, "that your children manage to be even more infuriating than you are?"
Jeff's eyes widened as he began to understand. John must be behind this. Somehow, he must have managed to hack the computer system, cause some kind of catastrophic malfunction.
"Not more infuriating," he said with proud satisfaction. "Just smarter and braver."
Barrett punched him, but Jeff had trouble caring.
"John's dead," Barrett snapped. "Dead, do you understand me? I'm going to drown him like the rat he is."
The wild light in his eyes said he wasn't bluffing. Jeff launched himself at Barrett, catching his guards so much by surprise that he managed to break free of them. He tackled Barrett to the ground, but before he could get more than two hits in, the guards were pulling him back. Barrett got up and ran, leaving Jeff to his men.
He fought them now, fought them as he'd never allowed himself to before. He fought so hard that he didn't even notice the water until he delivered a blow to the jaw of one of the guards that sent him dropping like a rock, and he splashed when he hit the floor. Jeff and the remaining guard both looked down, staring blankly at the inch of water that was now lapping at their feet.
The guard blanched, and for a moment, Jeff thought he might make a run for it. But then he lunged for Jeff again, and his attack was all the more fierce now. Jeff was fighting harder now too though, a terrible suspicion making him that much more desperate. He had to find John, had to get him out of here, had to-
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
That voice, instantly recognizable, distracted Jeff for just an instant. The butt of a handgun slammed into his temple, and his knees buckled beneath him.
"Hey, knock it- whoa."
The change in tone reached Jeff even through the ringing haze that was now clouding his brain, and he forced his head up. He took in the instinctively raised hands, the shocked expression, the fear that was just starting to flash through familiar eyes. But Jeff noted all of that in just a fraction of a second, because his gaze was then immediately drawn to the gun that was aimed at his son's heart.
One grey morning nearly two months after John's death found what was left of the Tracy family at the Creighton-Ward estate, preparing to send off their brother with a proper memorial. It was raining, which maybe should have been poetic, but was really just depressing.
The service had been Lady Penelope's idea. She'd been missing John as fiercely as the rest of them, and she thought a memorial might help them all heal, give them as much closure as possible without understanding what had happened to him. When the brothers had balked at the idea, she'd pointed out that it would also help to ease any suspicions Barrett may have had that they were onto him, if nothing else.
They'd been continuing their investigation into the shady businessman, but their little eavesdropping attempt had yet to yield anything particularly helpful. All they'd managed to ascertain was that Barrett spent a lot of time outside of his office. Lady Penelope had been conducting an investigation of her own through her unique channels, but so far all she'd been able to come up with were vague rumors. They needed to get Barrett's guard down.
So, there they were, scattered around the entrance hall in their dark suits as they greeted arriving guests. For all that John had kept to himself a lot growing up, and spent most of his adult life in space, it was still a fairly large crowd that was gathering. There were friends from Harvard, from NASA, as well as professors and CO's. There were a few of John's favorite students, from his time as a guest lecturer, and some faculty colleagues as well. There was extended family, normally scattered across the globe. There were others who had cared for John, who would miss him.
Ridley O'Bannon was there, and Colonel Casey. A few of Scott's old Air Force buddies attended in support for him, decked out in their dress uniforms as a sign of respect. Gordon's two best friends from Team USA had done the same for him, although they'd thankfully foregone their bathing suits in favor of more formal attire. Even Virgil's ex was there in support.
People kept coming up to Gordon to offer their condolences. He knew they meant well, but his grief was quite enough on its own, thank you; he didn't need a bunch of other people trying to shove theirs off onto him too. He didn't need adults he barely knew telling him that it was just such a shame, that John had been so young and bright, that he'd been cheated out of so much life.
Just when Gordon thought he might actually go insane, Lady Penelope appeared at his side. She didn't say anything at first, just stood beside him, warding off potential visitors with her presence and giving him a chance to simply breathe.
"John would've hated this," he said after a moment, looking around at all of the people assembled for the express purpose of making a fuss about his most introverted brother. Realizing that had probably sounded ungrateful, what with all the work Penelope must have put into organizing it, he hastened to add, "I mean, it's nice, but-"
"No, you're quite right," Penelope said with a small smile. "John did so loathe being the center of attention. I once teased him about throwing him a party when he returned from his first NASA mission, and his exact words were 'over my dead body.'"
"That dramatic bastard," Gordon sighed. "He just had to go and prove his point, didn't he?"
"Quite like him, when you think about it," Penelope agreed.
They lapsed into silence for a minute, studying the crowd. Everyone was wearing dark colors and somber expressions, their reason for being there impossible to ignore. It really hit Gordon then, that he was at a funeral, his brother's funeral.
"I don't know if I can do this," he heard himself murmur.
Penelope's gorgeous eyes were just a little brighter than usual, like liquid crystal. She took Gordon's hand in both of hers and squeezed it gently.
"I know you can," she said.
And then she drew him close, and folded him into a hug. Surprised by the simple gesture, and how much it undid him, he hugged her back, tucking his chin over her shoulder and closing his eyes.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid we have a situation."
Gordon opened his eyes with a sigh, letting go of Penelope to raise a hand to his ear, where he was wearing his tiny portable comm.
"Can it wait, EOS?" he asked.
"I wouldn't be calling if it could," she replied. "There's been some kind of accident at an underwater research facility in the North Sea. It's flooding with water, and personnel are trapped inside."
Yeah, that definitely didn't sound like something that could wait. Penelope had still been standing close enough to hear EOS, and she raised her hand to Gordon's cheek.
"It's all right," she told him. "I'm quite certain John would understand."
Gordon couldn't muster up the will to argue with her. He'd been dreading the service anyway.
He stood on his toes to find his brothers. Scott was already moving towards him, and Virgil was excusing himself from Akil, passing him off to Grandma Tracy instead.
"Do you need me?" Alan asked over the comms.
"How big is the facility?" Virgil asked.
"I'm still trying to find registered schematics, but my scans suggest that it's quite large," EOS told them. "It would be a good idea to bring all hands."
So Alan emerged from the crowd as well, and the four brothers made their way out of the grand mansion, Kayo joining them on the way. They'd staged their ships a discreet distance from the Creighton-Ward mansion, but Penelope must have dispatched Parker, because he showed up in FAB-1 to collect them the moment they made it outside. They all piled into the car with no small degree of difficulty, as FAB-1 was very much not designed to hold five and a half grown people. The drive was mercifully short, and then they were all heading for their respective Thunderbirds.
Virgil took the pilot's seat of Thunderbird 2 while Alan and Gordon changed hastily from their formalwear into the uniforms in which they were both far more comfortable. Gordon was still trying to tug his left boot on when EOS' voice came over the comms again, warning them of a new situation that was developing, a rogue defense drone that had somehow become confused about the distinction between protecting a city and attacking it. Kayo peeled off to deal with that, no doubt excited at the chance to really test her flying.
"When it rains, it pours, huh?" Virgil said to Gordon.
Unfortunately, his words turned out to be a little more prophetic than any of them would have liked. The skies overhead had been drizzling light rain on them all day, but as they flew the drizzle turned into a relentless deluge, those skies growing darker and more violent. A glance at the horizon showed that the sea was churning, massive waves crashing. Virgil's hands were tight on the controls as winds buffeted his ship. He refused to let go of them so that he could change into his own uniform.
"We're not gonna be able to do a standard launch," he told his brothers. "If I drop Thunderbird 4's module in this, it's gonna get damaged."
Gordon nodded. It wasn't as easy or safe to launch directly from Thunderbird 2, but he could do it.
"I've arrived at the facility's coordinates," Scott said from Thunderbird 1. "The sea's pretty rough, but that's about all I can tell you from here. My sensors can't penetrate deep enough to reach the facility. EOS, what are we heading into?"
"I'm still trying to determine that," EOS said. "My scans indicate some kind of catastrophic computer failure that overloaded the power grid and caused the facility's maintenance systems to stop working, which seems to have resulted in a massive influx of water. Thunderbird 4 may be able to repair the damage in time, but an evacuation will probably be necessary. But I'm having trouble learning more, because I've been trying to raise a response for the last twenty minutes. I think I'm getting through, but either no one can hear me, or they're not answering."
Gordon looked over in time to catch Virgil's small frown. This wasn't normal.
"Maybe they're busy trying to patch the leak, or something," Alan suggested, poking his head forward from his seat behind Virgil.
"Yeah, maybe," Virgil said, although he didn't sound convinced. "EOS, keep trying. We're about five minutes out. I don't want to send Thunderbird 4 in blind, but it's what we're gonna have to do if we haven't heard from them by then."
Gordon and Alan nodded. Scott, though, didn't seem to share their sentiments.
"I don't like this," he said. "EOS, what exactly is this facility?"
"I've been trying to find that out. Its records indicate that it's been in operation for a little over two years, and it appears to be dedicated to mechanical research. In that time though, it has failed to yield any appreciable results. The plans I have access to were filed by a corporation that doesn't seem to exist."
An uneasy silence descended. They'd all had just a little too much experience with shadow corporations.
"Sounds like it might be a cover for something," Virgil said at last, stating the obvious. "EOS, could you alert the GDF, just in case?"
"I already did, when you were leaving the funeral. I'll call them back and have them formally dispatch to your location."
"I don't want any of you going in until they get there," said Scott.
"What?" Gordon protested. "No! Obviously this looks shady, but we don't know for sure that anything's off, and even if it is, this wouldn't be the first time we've had to rescue people who got themselves in trouble doing something illegal."
"And we'll rescue these people too, but not until the GDF arrives to back you up."
"The facility might not have that kind of time," EOS chimed in. "My scans suggest- wait!"
"Wait, what?" Alan asked.
"The emergency alarm just stopped transmitting. It's still functional, but someone must have turned it off."
"So…false alarm?" Gordon asked.
"Negative. Water is still flooding into the facility, and the structural damage appears to be worsening."
"And you still haven't been able to get anyone to respond to you?" Virgil asked.
"No."
The three brothers in Thunderbird 2 looked around at each other uncertainly.
"Virgil." Scott's voice sounded odd. He hadn't projected his image to accompany his audio call, so they couldn't see his face. "Stop. We're waiting."
Virgil looked at Gordon. Nothing needed to be said.
"No." Virgil checked his nav system, confirming their course. "I hear you, Scott, but we have to do this."
Scott said nothing, and Gordon thought that might be it. But then Virgil yelped and yanked back on the thrusters as a massive silver shape dropped from above and hovered in their path. Thunderbird 2 came to an abrupt halt an inadvisable mere ten meters from the red nose cone of Thunderbird 1.
"What the hell, Scott?" Virgil demanded, startled from his usual state of calm. He'd never appreciated potential threats to his ship.
Gordon couldn't help staring in shock at Thunderbird 1. He hadn't thought he'd live to see the day Scott was trying to hold Virgil back from action. Squinting through the driving rain, he could just see across the distance and through to his stony-faced brother in the cockpit of his rocket. Scott, who'd never met a challenge he backed away from, whose bravery had drawn him to the Air Force and then into a harrowing rescue business, who could be as volatile as the rocket he piloted, was trying to force them to stand down.
Judging by the way Virgil's expression set, his shoulders stiffening, it was going to go about as well as it usually did when it was the other way around. Virgil was a team player, a peacemaker, but that didn't mean he was any better at taking orders than the rest of his brothers.
"Seriously?" he demanded. "Get out of the way."
"The last time one of us went on a shady rescue, we lost John," Scott said flatly. "I'm not risking the rest of you."
Gordon snuck a look over at his other elder brother. Virgil's hands were tight on the controls, his jaw set and his eyes dark. He met Gordon's gaze for a fraction of an instant before his eyes darted to Alan and then back to Scott.
"We lost John because he cared more about saving lives than protecting his own. How can we do differently?"
Virgil looked at Gordon again. Gordon nodded and stood.
"Come on, Alan," he murmured, nudging his little brother's shoulder. "Let's get ready to launch."
Even if Scott was determined to stop Thunderbird 2 from going to the exact coordinates of the rescue site, he couldn't stop Thunderbird 4 from launching. They were close enough that it would only take the small but powerful submarine a few minutes longer to get there.
Alan looked up at Gordon with wide eyes, uncertain. The kid was brave and mischievous, but for all his desire for autonomy and independence, it wasn't often that he directly rebelled against Scott. Not with the important things, anyway.
"Virgil." Gordon had expected Scott to get angry, but instead he just sounded scared. "Virgil, please. I can't- I can't lose-"
"Hey, you won't, Scott," Virgil promised, his tone gentler now. "Have a little faith in your family, all right? John…" He took a deep breath. "John was alone, but we aren't. Whatever happens, we're still stronger together, and we always will be. Whatever this is - and it could be nothing - we'll get each other through it."
Scott stared at them all for a long moment. Gordon couldn't speak for his brothers, but his throat was tight and aching. John would have been proud of them, he knew. He just wished that he could have been.
"Just be careful," Scott pleaded at last, and then Thunderbird 1 was rising out of their path.
"F.A.B. Scott."
A few minutes later, Gordon was guiding Thunderbird 4 down through the murky depths to the facility on the ocean floor. The structure had been built in concentric partitions, presumably in case something like this ever happened. Some sections had visibly collapsed from the pressure, but others were still standing, flooding more slowly.
Gordon guided Thunderbird 4 to an access port in one of the most protected sections, hopefully the last to flood. He checked to make sure that Alan had his helmet clipped to his belt and a full air pack on his back, before letting them both out into the facility.
Well, Gordon had another place to add to the creepy list. The power was out, and some kind of emergency lighting system was bathing everything in a hellish red glow. The hallways were stark and cold, and there wasn't a soul in sight. He felt Alan shift just a little closer to him. Much as Gordon understood the instinct though, they couldn't take the time to do this together.
They split up, Alan in order to find a control or computer room, where he would hopefully be able to slow the damage and save at least part of the structure, and Gordon to search for survivors to evacuate.
Five minutes into his search though, he hadn't found a soul. There were plenty of places to look; the branching hallways were lined with doors, each leading to storage rooms or labs or sleeping quarters. He checked every one of them, but they were all empty. Perhaps the place had been mostly abandoned, although someone must have been there to turn off the alarm.
EOS had said this place was a mechanical research facility. If the equipment Gordon could see in the rooms he poked his head into was any indication, there was some truth to that. But almost everything had a strangely disused, neglected quality to it. The rooms were pristine, untouched, with plastic sheets over half of the equipment.
One room had nothing in it but a padded black bench along one wall, with a small bathroom attached. It smelled faintly of sweat and vomit and illness, and there were dark flecks on the floor, their color impossible to make out under the crimson emergency lights. Still, he felt a chill creep up his spine as he looked at them. He left the instant he'd made sure there was no one in it.
A few doors later, he came across an even more unsettling room. This one was nearly as barren as the other, containing nothing but an elevated metal table, and what looked like a hospital crash cart, with a defibrillator and drawers for various drugs. There was a drain in the floor, a row of plastic water jugs along the wall next to a sink. What looked like a camera was mounted in the middle of the ceiling, aimed at the table.
Gordon might have convinced himself that it was some kind of medical examination room, if not for the thick cuffs embedded in the surface of the table.
"Gordon, status report."
Gordon nearly jumped out of his custom blue wetsuit. He clutched his chest, backing out of the disturbing room. It would have been pretty ironic if, after all of Scott's worrying and fussing, he gave his little brother a heart attack.
"I haven't found anyone yet," he reported as he continued down the hallway. "But something is definitely off about this place."
"Well, something's about to be more off soon," Scott told him, voice tight. "EOS says that the section you're in just started to flood. Get a move on."
Gordon might have put more thought into a snarky reply, had he not been growing steadily more freaked out. He would be happy to see the end of this rescue. At this rate, they might have been better off at John's funeral.
It wasn't long before he heard the first trickle of water, spotted the leaks that had appeared in the ceiling, the walls. He picked up his pace, and soon he was splashing through shallow water as he continued to move through hallways. He'd been calling out as he went before, but now he found it harder to shout into that ominous silence. So he just listened instead, and at last he heard the first sounds of actual life in this place: grunts and thumps and loud splashing.
He started running, and he rounded a corner to see two figures grappling with each other, locked in an intense struggle. Another seemed to be lying on the floor.
"Hey!" Gordon shouted at them. Perhaps not his most well thought out tactic, but he was a little stressed. "What do you think you're doing?"
In hindsight, he really should have noticed the gun sooner.
Jeff was exhausted and hurting and possibly concussed, but none of that mattered. Nothing mattered but the sight of Gordon, unarmed and defenseless, frozen before the gun that was leveled at his chest.
Gravity felt five times too strong, but Jeff pushed himself off the ground in an instant, not taking the time to get to his feet before he launched himself at the guard, slamming into his knees and sending them both splashing to the cold floor. The guard did what any man with a gun in his hand might do when tackled by a pissed off and protective father; he started shooting. But so long as it wasn't at Gordon, Jeff didn't care where the bullets flew.
A blue-booted foot came swinging out of nowhere, connecting quite solidly with the guard's head. The fight pretty summarily ended at that point.
Jeff's lightheadedness and exhaustion returned with a vengeance, and he let himself slump to the ground beside his unconscious opponent, water lapping at the side of his face. What he'd been through would've been hard on even a young man, and he hadn't been one of those in far too long.
"Alan, be careful," he heard Gordon saying. "There are people with guns down here."
Jeff couldn't quite make out the tinny voice that answered over the comm, but it didn't sound like Alan.
"No, Scott- Scott, just listen, I'm fine. You can't come down here, we're a hundred meters deep; you'd be crushed if you tried- No, we can't leave yet, there are still people down here, and I think some of them might be prisoners or test subjects or something. What? Sc- think - eaking up - can't - losing-"
His comm shut off with a beep. Jeff could only imagine the look on his eldest's face.
"Hey buddy, are you hit?"
Gordon's concerned voice was the only warning Jeff had before he was being dragged away from the guard and turned on his back. He blinked up at the figure leaning over him, meeting a familiar set of amber eyes. Despite everything, he felt something in his chest warm a little, his eyes stinging. Two years had been far too long; he'd missed this boy.
But then Gordon was staggering back from him, the blood draining from his face. Jeff sat up with effort, facing his alarmed son.
"Easy, Gordon," he said. "It's all right."
Gordon's eyes were wide and disbelieving, his lower lip trembling slightly. Then his expression hardened, and he reeled back another step.
"Is this some kind of trick?" he demanded, raising his hands once more to defend himself. "Is that you, Hood? You think you can beat us by disguising yourself as him? Well, it's not gonna work, you fucking bastard."
Jeff ached to see the most open and gregarious of his sons, once so vibrant and easygoing, now so guarded and suspicious. He hated that it was for good reason.
He lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. He held Gordon's gaze, seeing through the bold defiance there to the hurting boy underneath. If it had been a trick, it would have been an unconscionably cruel one.
"It's me, Captain Nemo," he said, remembering a long ago day when his water-loving little boy had decided that he wanted to be the captain of a boat like the famous anti-hero from his favorite bedtime story, and insisted that his family address him accordingly.
Gordon's eyes widened at the nickname. His hands dropped to his sides and he stared, emotions flickering across his face too quickly to read. He dropped to his knees beside Jeff, still just staring. He began to shake, reaching out an unsteady hand to touch his father's arm.
"Dad?" he whispered, sounding younger than before. "But you're not…you can't…Dad?"
Jeff mustered up a small smile for him, and let himself tug Gordon close for a hug that could only last a second.
"Gordon, I know nothing makes sense right now, but I need you to keep it together for me, okay?" He didn't wait for a response. "Where are your brothers?"
Gordon seemed to snap just a little bit out of his stupor at the authoritative note he'd injected into his tone.
"Alan's down here with me, looking for other survivors. Virgil's topside with Thunderbird 2, and Scott is our acting mission command from Thunderbird 1." Gordon abruptly paled, raising a hand to his mouth. "Dad. Dad."
The break in his voice struck Jeff like a bullet.
"We- we lost…" He gulped, his amber eyes starting to shine.
"John. I know. He's-"
"Wait, Dad. Oh God, you are hit!"
Jeff looked down as Gordon grabbed at him urgently. Sure enough, there was an ominous stain spreading slowly across the fabric over his thigh, pain he hadn't noticed before throbbing to life. He swore. They didn't have time for this.
He grabbed the gun that had been used to shoot him, and tucked it into his waistband.
"Help me up," he said, tugging Gordon closer so that he could loop an arm around his shoulders.
"Are you sure you can-?"
"We don't have a choice. This place is underwater, right? And it's flooding?"
"Yeah, that's why we're here. Whole parts of it are already completely flooded."
"Then I guess we'd better get moving."
Without further protest, Gordon hauled him to his feet. The aquanaut may have been the shortest of Jeff's sons, but he was strong, and he didn't waver under his father's weight. And he had to carry a lot of it. The bullet must have nicked Jeff's femur, from the white-hot bolts of pain that shot up his leg.
"I've got you, Dad," Gordon muttered as he started to support his father down the hallway. "We'll get you out."
"No, we can't leave yet," Jeff said at once. "We have to find your brothers."
"It's just Alan down here, and he knows what he's doing."
"Maybe he does, but he doesn't know what they're doing. And it's not just-"
"G-guys?" Alan's voice sounded different, deepened by time and distorted by the comms, but Jeff recognized it at once. "Guys, I-I think- oh my God. Oh my God, John! John, he's-!"
Gordon lurched to a dead standstill, turning wide eyes on Jeff.
"Alan?" That was Scott's voice now, sounding just a touch less steady than Jeff remembered. "Alan, what-?"
"Hey, hey, I've got you. I've got you," Alan was saying in a trembling but gentle voice, and Jeff knew that the words weren't directed at anyone listening over the comms. "No, hey- GORDON! Gordon, I need your help! I found John, but something's wrong with him, he's covered in blood and barely awake and I can't move him on my own!"
"Dad?" Gordon whispered questioningly. He was shaking again.
"It's him, Gordy," Jeff promised. "He's got severe pneumonia, from-" he hesitated, loathe to burden Gordon with the knowledge of what had been done to his brother. But they would need to know the details of John's illness if they were going to treat him effectively. "From waterboarding," he finished reluctantly. "Broken ribs, too."
Gordon just stared at him blankly, evidently refusing to process the reality of that. Jeff supposed it was enough to overwhelm the strongest psyche, finding out that one's dead father and brother were still alive. Anything else on top of that would take time to compute.
But time was something they didn't have.
"Go help your brothers," he ordered, shrugging out of Gordon's hold and staggering to the side of the corridor. Gordon tried to catch him, to hold him up instead of letting him slide down the wall, but Jeff waved him off. "John's in worse shape than me, and I'm only slowing you down," he said. "Go help them, and come back for me later."
He almost added if there's time, but he caught himself. He knew Gordon wouldn't leave if he thought it meant abandoning him permanently. Even so, Gordon hesitated, his wide eyes raking over Jeff's body.
"Take this," Jeff told him, pressing the gun into his son's hand, hating that he had to do it. "There are some bad people down here, and they won't hesitate to hurt you or your brothers."
"But Dad, you're hurt-"
"And John is worse," Jeff reminded him. Barrett's threat rang through his mind. "He's in danger, Gordy, and Alan is too if he's with him."
"I'm not leaving-"
"Go, Gordon."
Jeff injected as much stern authority as he could muster into the command, and Gordon finally pulled reluctantly away from him. He fumbled for something in his utility belt, and handed it to Jeff.
"Hold onto this," he ordered, and waited until Jeff nodded before finally turning away, his hand lingering on his father's for as long as possible.
He shot a few anxious glances over his shoulder as he began to retreat, but soon his new mission began to overtake him, perhaps as he really began to process the combination of the words 'waterboarding,' 'worse,' and 'John.' He started to sprint down the hallway, and soon turned a corner and vanished from sight.
A/N: It's finally here, folks! But of course, it couldn't be too easy...