"Rex! You absolute tosser!" Angelina bellowed as she tore out of her room and down the stairs.
Her brother looked up to smile at her from the sofa along the wall of their front parlor, where he was lounging with the look of a cat who'd gotten the canary.
"Whatever's the matter, my darling baby sister?" he wondered with far too much innocence.
With a flare of irritation, Angelina took up a pillow from the nearest chair and pelted it at him. It drew out an 'oof!' but then Rex merely flopped back dramatically with it, hooting with laughter.
"What's going on in there?" their father's voice droned from down the hall.
"Rex took my Tornados' signing badge!" Angelina accused loudly, glaring at the wizard in front of her.
"You have proof?" Rex wondered, arching an eyebrow at her.
Angelina's glare darkened and she reached for another pillow.
"Okay! Okay!" Rex cried out, flinching to guard himself from another attack. "I took it. Couldn't help it, it's so pretty—."
"Yeah, so give it back," she demanded.
Rex gave her a pout, comical again but there was also had a hint of truth to it in his eyes. "I just wanted something to remember you by."
Angelina frowned. "To remem—Rex! I'm joining a Quidditch team—not the military!"
"I know," Rex whined. "But you'll be gone all the time! And you'll always be traveling for games and promotional events. The next thing you know, you'll only want to hang out with your NQL friends and Dad and me'll become names on a holiday owling list."
"You will not," Angelina objected, shoving his legs off the couch so she could sit down. "You know that won't happen."
Rex, though, went back into melodramatics and flailed as though he were about to swoon. "Left behind. Alone. Just the two of us. Forgotten in the dust…"
"Oh, shut up, you idiot," Angelina scoffed, pelting him with a pillow again.
"Abuse!" Rex cried out, flopping onto the floor. "Dad! I'm being abused! Call the Prophet! Rising Quidditch Star Beats Elder Brother!"
"Oh yes," Angelina said with a wry smirk. "I can definitely see them coming after me for pillow pummeling."
"Dad!" Rex called out again, ineffectually trying to quiet his chortles. "Save me!"
"You two better not break anything in there," was their father's response.
"Unbelievable," Rex commented, flopping back to stare at the ceiling. "Could be dying in here, but doesn't matter so long as the chair's not broke."
"Yes, but if you were dying, he'd just transfigure you into a new chair," Angelina reasoned.
"Well, that's disturbing," Rex decided, wrinkling his nose, and lifted his head to nod at her. "Thanks for that."
"Cheers," Angelina said smugly, snatching the badge she'd been fighting for from his grasp.
"And what'd you be, then?" he pushed on. "The ottoman?"
Angelina gave a snort. "Please, I'd be a blanket at least."
"I say you'd be the cat dish," Rex announced, sitting up again. "To forever feed that demon cat of yours."
"He's not a demon," Angelina defended, hiding the badge away before tucking her feet up onto the cushion. "You just have really bad timing around him."
"Yeah, as in he keeps tryin' to trip me down the stairs," Rex groused.
"He just likes the top step, its not his fault you don't look," Angelina countered.
"Demon cat," Rex grumbled.
Angelina scoffed, but couldn't keep the smile from her face as she shifted to prod him with her foot, making him chuckle.
The two siblings let their amusement fade, one staring at the ceiling while the other studied the fringe of a throw pillow.
"You realize nothing's going to change, right?" she said after a moment or two, poking him with her toes again. "I mean, it'll pretty much be like I'm away at school again."
Rex gave a sigh and shifted around to see her better. "Yeah, I know," he said, sounding more like a groan before he gave her a little half smile. "But it's not school anymore, Angie. And it's not peaceful out here anymore."
"I know," she told him, a sour pit in her stomach. "But, again, I'm joining the NQL, not the military. Not the Aurors. And it's not like I'll be alone. I'll have the team and Mike—and he's already been vetted by Uncle Dom."
That got another laugh from him. Rex outclassed Mike by a stone at least, something that amazed the taller man when Mike had easily flipped him on to the floor when they'd first met.
"Alright?" she pressed.
"Yeah," Rex groaned. "Yeah, I get it."
"And honestly," Angelina insisted, smirking down at him. "I should be more worried about you being a CPA in Diagon Alley. All sorts of dangers could be after you!"
"Accounting has… numerous dangers," Rex informed her with a grin.
"Merlin's sake, the puns!" Angelina groaned, though she laughed. "I take it back—you're definitely only getting a Christmas owl!"
"Nooo!" Rex whined, lunging up to grab at her beseechingly.
Angelina shrieked at flailed to get away. Which, in turn, knocked over a lamp.
"Kids?" Their father's voice carried down the hall again.
"We're fine!" they shouted back. Rex quickly cast a repairing spell and Angelina set the lamp back in its spot.
"That's what?" Rex wondered.
"Is it the fifty-seventh time we've broken it?" She suggested.
"Really? I could've sworn we were already in the sixties," he mused.
Angelina could only laugh and shake her head.
"Well," Rex said once the silence started to get awkward. "I should get going. I'm doing the books for the bookshop tomorrow. I'll need to get up early."
"Yeah," Angelina agreed with a nod. "And I start training camp at eight."
She looked her brother over for a moment before surging forward to hug him close. Rex's arms wrapped around her, giving an extra squeeze before letting go.
"See ya in six weeks," he said.
Angelina saw him to the door with a smile. "Six weeks."
It was only three weeks later that the owl came.
Melissa had summoned her home on behalf of Angelina's frantic father. There had been an attack on Diagon Alley. Rex had been there.
Together, Angelina and Ross Johnson had gone to St Mungo's. Rex was nearly unrecognizable, half of his body covered in horrific wounds and missing his left arm.
Only the stasis spells were keeping the man in the bed from death, but it was also too obvious that it was him in the bed.
Angelina remembered calling her brother's name as her vision glassed over. But then she and her father were being ushered out of the room again as healers frantically tried to stabilize him again.
They couldn't.
oOoOo
Angelina let out a blood curdling scream, clutching her throat and then covering her mouth as she backed into the far wall of lockers. Tears burned in her eyes before they spilled over and trickled rapidly down her cheeks. This couldn't be happening.
Sitting in an open box, atop a pillow of tissue paper that had been white at some point but was now saturated with red, was a bloodied severed arm.
"Lina?!"
Angelina could just barely see Wood rounding the lockers in the corner of her eye, his brow creased in concern. He must have looked toward the locker, if the muttered swear was anything to go by. Then it was if he'd apparated to her side—despite the anti-apparation spell placed on the building.
His strong arms encircled her. Angelina's body wouldn't move. Wood shouted something, and she was fairly sure there were footsteps coming from somewhere.
"Lina?" Wood's voice called to her through the fog filling her mind. "Angelina, can you hear me?"
She felt him shake her body. Finally, her eyes tore themselves away from the locker and found themselves staring into the golden-brown pools of Wood's. Her fingers found their way to his button-down shirt and she clung to the soft fabric, crushing it to wrinkles in her grip.
Voices fought their way through the panicked fog around her head, only reaching far enough to make her faintly aware that more people had joined them. That there was arguing and orders being shouted, echoing in the hard surfaces of the locker room. Which seemed to only make the image of the arm ingrain itself even more harshly into her mind. It was hard to say what the skin color could have been, the skin too marred and covered in blood.
The noise swelled a bit, but then faded away to a fuzzy white noise that somehow seemed to be even louder than the angry voices from before.
Voices that seemed to come around again, joining in the headache that was brewing behind Angelina's eyes.
"…on't answer any…"
"…ve got it."
A snap of sound and sting of pain brought with it a shock of clarity and Angelina gasped. "What the hell!?"
"There you are," Nate said and gave her a crooked smile.
Wood, though, was frowning in concern at her side. "Are you alright?"
"Kinda dumb question, isn't it?" Nate pointed out.
Angelina managed to shoot him a look, while Wood flat out glared.
"What I want to know is why someone would think that a body part is a better gift than flowers," Nate said, folding his arms as he leaned back against his desk.
Angelina blinked, finally taking in her surroundings, and was surprised to find they were sitting in Mike's office with a full tea on the coffee table, which had been moved from its usual spot across the room to sit between the two chairs facing the desk.
"Johnson," Nate called her attention back. "What did it mean to you? You freaked out and locked yourself away in your head for more than an hour. Why?"
"Why?" Wood echoed, staring at the blond in disbelief. "Somebody left a bloody butchered limb in her locker! How else was she supposed to react?"
Nate shook his head, his eyes glued to Angelina. "Yeah, shock," he agreed. "But this is more than that. What is it, Johnson? Why is there an arm in your locker?"
Wood looked ready to start up a shouting match, but Nate's aggressive pushing seemed to be the jolt Angelina needed.
"My brother," she managed to choke out. She cleared her throat and shook her head to clear it. Some sick psycho was taking things way too far and getting lost in her head wasn't going to help. "Rex, he—he died. Just after I graduated Hogwarts. After I'd gone for training with the Tornados."
Nate raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. For which, Angelina was grateful.
"Did you hear about the attack on Diagon Alley?" she asked him instead. "The big one, round five years ago?"
"Yes," the American answered, his expression impassive though his fingers twitched into fists.
"He… he was caught in the crossfire," she forced out. "He'd been lunching with friends. None of them made it. Rex was the hardest to identify. H-he was cut up from so many spells… all sorts of shrapnel and debris. They said they'd found him under a destroyed wall."
Nate's eyes sparked with understanding. "Not all of him, though."
Angelina shook her head. "Not all of him."
She felt like she was going to choke on the tension that seemed to flood the space. Nate's gaze had fallen to the files on his desk, a frown firmly set on his face. Wood had taken a moment longer to catch onto what she didn't want to say.
When he did, the Keeper spun away with a growl, looking ready to punch something. With the shock starting to fade, Angelina would've been happy to join him. What kind of sick bastard would even think up doing something like this?
"How many people know about the condition Rex Johnson was found in?" Nate asked, ignoring the other Quidditch player.
"I don't know," Angelina replied helplessly. "A handful? Dozen at most?"
Nate gave a hum of understanding. "Right, and we can cut out family. Or at least the immediates," he muttered, then nodded and pushed to his feet again. "Well, it's a place to start, anyway."
"What are you off to do, then?" Wood asked as the American strode towards the door.
"Visit a few contacts," he replied, stopping just within the doorframe to give them such a light and easy smile that Angelina practically got whiplash trying to connect him to the sour expression of barely moments earlier. "Sit tight, kids, I'll be twenty max."
Angelina scowled at him as he gave a wink and ducked out of the room. Wood looked after the man in befuddlement.
"Are all Americans like that?" the Keeper asked after a moment or two. "Or just the ones you know?"
She gave a snort in response, shaking her head.
oOoOo
True to his word, Nate was back in the office in less than half an hour, by which point NQA officials had brought up lunch of tea sandwiches for the two Quidditch stars from the café downstairs. Nate cast the luncheon a glance but directed his attention to the large role of parchment he'd brought in with him.
"And what's this then?" Angelina asked, licking her fingertips clean of the smoked salmon.
Nate's gaze flickered up a moment, but then went back to reading through the information in his hands. "A compendium of grievances that have ever been held against you or your family."
"What?!" the Chaser yelped, lunging forward. "How the devil did you get that!?"
That irritating smirk was back on his face faster than Angelina could blink and he waggled the fingers of one hand through the air as he all but sang out the word, "Ma-gic."
"Oh, piss off," Angelina snapped, and tried for the folder again. Only to fail once more.
"It's not actually as long as you think it is," Nate pointed out, opening the file to lift out a few sheets of parchment. "Most of reports on here are your brother's complaints about your cat. Next highest is a Ms. Marcelle Duffner about your family home's front garden… Apparently your downstairs neighbor wants you to stop bouncing when you're coming down the stairs, by the way."
Angelina snorted at that. Yes, she knew that complaint, very well. Maybe she'd start stomping on her way up…
Nate gave a sharp exhale through his nose and seemingly tossed the folder behind himself, only for it to disappear as soon as it left his fingertips. Angelina and Oliver exchanged glances, but Nate didn't pay them any attention.
"Well, that was a waste of a good argument," he grumbled, drumming his fingers against each other. "Wonder if he'll show up himself if I have to harass his secretary again…"
Oliver frowned. "What?"
A knock on the doorframe drew all attention to a clump of Aurors lingering in the doorway.
"What've we got, boys?" Nate asked. "Charges to press? Someone to hunt down?"
"Neither," the front man said. He was older and a faint bit portly and held his nose a bit higher as he regarded the room instead of its occupants.
The seated trio stared at him.
"Come again?" Nate frowned. "What do you mean neither?"
"I mean neither," the man reiterated. "We've taken the package and its contents to St Mungo's to see if there's a missing arm about, but I wouldn't hold much hope. Once we hear from them, we'll be able to put something on file."
"Hold up!" Nate said loudly and pushed to his feet. "That's it? That's all you're pinning this on? Whether Mungo's can ID the vic? What about evidence from the scene? Spell residue? Magical signature?"
"There was none," the Auror answered, not hiding a bit of his distain for having to explain himself. "No spell residue, no magical signature."
"How the hell is there no magical signature on it?" Nate demanded. "The damn thing looked pristine! You can't do that by no-maj means."
Angelina blinked at the scene in front of her. No matter how much the American grated on her nerves, the bloke was downright menacing at the moment—towering over the ministry individual with his arms crossed and a near murderous scowl on his face. He probably could've scared the piss out of lesser men, but this Auror remained unmoved. Granted, there's a very thin line between fortitude and stupidity.
The Auror held his ground. "Every tracking spell came up negative! There's no sign of any magical being's presence on the envelope or the letter. There's not even anything magical about the ink!"
"Yeah? But they came from somewhere," Nate pressed. "Parchment is particular. Find the manufacturer!"
The Auror frowned. "Why?"
Nate's expression fell blank as he stared at the Auror for a long moment, then gave a slow blink—as though having to process the rationale that there was even a need to explain further. A reaction that screamed familiarity at Angelina, though she couldn't quite place it before he was off again, speaking slowly as he explained himself, "So that we can ask for their client list."
The Auror sniffed in offense at the idea. "Why—?"
"To gain a list of suspects!" Nate snapped, making everyone flinch back a bit—all staring a bit more wide-eyed at the blond. He looked downright feral.
Did Sydney's file say whether this guy had creature blood in him?
"For all the crap we get for the history of strict no-maj segregation—you yutzes don't even bother with learning muggle investigation methods to use when magic fails?" Nate ranted, combing an agitated hand through his hair. "What is wrong with this country? No wonder we haven't had any leads! I'm fucking moving my sister back State-side once this is over. Now go out there and do your job before I do it for you!"
"Now see here, Mr. Por—."
"NOW!"
The ring of authority in Nate's voice might as well have been a beast's growl and it sent the Aurors scrambling from the room as quickly as they could go. Angelina had to pick her jaw up off the floor and she glanced to find Wood gaping at the American as well.
Yeah, definitely checking into that 'creature blood' theory, she told herself through that jittery feeling of shock as she watched the American take several breaths to calm himself down.
She wasn't sure how long it had actually taken, but soon enough Nate had seated himself behind the desk again, furiously reading over several papers.
"Uh—."
"Hold on."
Angelina blinked at being so swiftly silenced and stared as the blond then proceeded to pull a keychain out of his pocket. It was an odd-looking sort of bauble, with moving parts to it that he twisted around until he seemed satisfied, and then he slammed the whole thing down on the desktop.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair before giving a tired laugh. "He told me the ground level Aurors were next to useless, and I didn't believe him," he groaned in bemusement. "Ah, Gods… Looks like I'm out ten sickles."
Angelina frowned, but she hadn't even opened her mouth before Nate continued.
"Right, looks like I'm out to pound pavement," he announced, then folded his hands in front of himself on the desk and gave the pair a congenial smile that honestly was more unnerving than his previous anger. "Sounds like you have about two hours before team practice. What're you planning on doing?"
"Not pounding pavement," Angelina answered, having heard the expression enough from her aunt enough to know that she didn't want to spend what was left of her free time going door to door looking for clues.
Nate's smile turned into a (somehow) more genuine smirk. "Alright," he allowed, dropping back in the seat again. "Well, back to business, then. Prior to this… disruption, I'd wanted you to stop by anyway."
"Right," Angelina agreed, pulling the rest of the day back into focus. "Updates on Mike and Sera, and leads?"
Nate nodded, his eyes going to Wood.
Angelina raised an eyebrow. "He's staying."
Wood looked between the two. "I don't need to, if it's going to cause problems."
To Angelina's surprise, Nate shook his head. "Nah. It's not like you're supposed to be somewhere else. Plus, what's better protection than a worried boyfriend?"
Any number of things came to Angelina's mind, but it was like some sort of understanding had settled between the two men at the idea. Which was irritating as all hell, but would only cost time to challenge.
"The updates?" Angelina prompted, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment to stave off a headache.
"Sera's out of her coma," Nate reported. "She apparently woke up sometime around 2 this morning, started panicking and cursing at her mediwitches in Spanish. Girl's got pretty good aim—knocked out one of the orderlies—or, uh, mediwizards?—by lobbing her water cup across the room."
Wood and Angelina gave a begrudging nod. That definitely sounded like their teammate.
"She's calmed down since and is sleeping naturally now," Nate assured. "Mike's doing well enough, not coughing up granite or anything—"
"What?!" Angelina yelped. "When was he—?"
"It's a joke, English! Breathe!" Nate laughed. "No spitting granite! Yeesh. I mean, I'd be more concerned about relying on artificial intestines."
Angelina was fairly sure she was about one more joke away from strangling him.
Nate seemed to get the picture. "All jokes aside," he continued. "Mike's healers think it'll be about a week before they can work on physical therapy, then by Christmas he'll be up and running."
"Well, that's good news," Wood observed.
"Yeah, but it means we only have about six weeks for me to help catch this nutcase," Nate pointed out. "I've already ticked off the wife when I told her I wouldn't make it for Thanksgiving. The kids'll help her kill me if I dodge Yuletide."
That made Angelina blink. This guy's married? Gods bless that woman.
Nate glanced at the wall clock. "Alright, now, if you'll excuse me," he said, getting to his feet. "I'm off to do your policing force's job for a bit and see who I can get fired. If you leave property, be back by practice time or I'll let Jones run you ragged."
With a final irritating grin, Nate was out the door and out of sight.
"So," Wood drew out the syllable as he met Angelina's gaze, then gave her a hopeful smile. "Shall we get out of here, then? For the hour or so before team practice? Maybe pop over to the Weasleys'?"
Angelina raised an eyebrow at him above her smirk. "Somehow I think any visit to my cousin's would end up being more than an hour."
Chuckling, Wood shrugged and nodded to concede the point. "Fair enough. But let's still get out of here, yeah? Walk to the Thames and back?"
"Yeah," she agreed, thinking to hell with it. "Why not."
Wood's grin brightened and he eagerly got to his feet.
Though the corridor connecting the agent offices was crowded and bustling with both NQA employees and Aurors, the lift ride down to the lobby was quiet enough to hear the jingly music that covered the sound of the elevator's mechanisms at work. Which was both good and bad. Good because it gave her a moment's peace. Bad because that peace was more like a mental torment.
It was a quick stride out the door once the lift doors opened and the cool November air felt like breaking through a wall, like suddenly Angelina could breathe—as though she'd been below surface ever since she'd opened her locker.
And it spurred a glassiness to her vision like nothing else.
"Alright?" Wood asked, his voice a low timbre to her ears.
Blinking rapidly with a quick breath, Angelina cast him a smile and nodded as she gave the pretense of looking around. "Fine," she promised. "It's a left, yeah?"
"Yeah," Wood agreed, though he didn't look like he believed her. But he let it drop as they started down the sidewalk.
As often happened with physical activity, for Angelina at least, the movement allowed her thoughts to flow more freely—instead of bunching up in her head as a snarl of panic. Dodging muggles in her way with a deft accuracy, her thoughts went back to the problem at hand.
There had been no-one else on the top three floors of the building, as it was restricted, and you needed a pre-recorded magical signature to get in. Which limited those who it could have been to the team (sans Wood, as he'd been with her the whole time), their agents, and a handful of NQA personnel.
("Car," Wood's voice cut in and, had she noticed, a force grabbed hold of her jacket to stop her from crossing the street.)
But that wasn't right, was it? Wood hadn't actually been with her the entire time she was at the pitch. But she couldn't believe that he'd do something so heinous. And he hadn't even known she had a brother until a month or so ago. Plus, he'd been in transit from a train to Brighton before getting to the pitch. So no, no it couldn't be him.
How long had that box been in there, anyway? Had the Aurors said?
("Cyclist!" Wood's voice called out again from somewhere and her trajectory was shifted a bit.)
She and Wood had been on the pitch for a good two hours at least, right? Maybe three. Who might have come up at that time?
"Lina!"
Abrupt tension of her coat pulling against her body caused Angelina to stop and stagger back a step and blink at the scene before her.
"Oh." Apparently, they'd reached the river.
Wood circled round to stand next to her, regarding her with a wary bemusement. "You back?" he wondered. "Or still off planet?"
The question made her snort, a smile coming to her face that made her feel a little more human. "Where else would I be?"
Wood shrugged, rocking back on his heels a moment with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. "A couple hours away, I'd reckon," he replied, then looked down at his toes. "Kinda felt like I was walking on my own since we hit the pavement."
Heat of color flooded Angelina's face, but she quickly turned her gaze to the river and the milling muggles around them. He wasn't wrong, but it still irked her to be caught at it.
"It's not as though you can blame me," she said after a moment, moving forward to an empty bench a little further down the walk.
"No, I can't," Wood agreed, easily keeping pace and sitting next to her.
For a moment, the pair just stayed like that. Enjoying the rare sunshine on the crisp autumn day and the sounds of busy muggles bustling around them. Nothing more than another set of faces in what must have been a fairly ordinary scene.
"So…"
Angelina's gaze flickered back to Wood.
"So?" she echoed.
He gave her a bit of a smirk. "So, out with it," he prompted. "Start talking out what's spinning in your head."
"There's nothing spinning," she tried to shrug off.
"Don't give me that," Wood scoffed with a laugh. "I remember the majority of my school career and the innumerable times you used me as a sounding board. Particularly during your OWLs, despite me being on NEWTs."
Angelina rolled her eyes and looked away, trying to hide the sheepish grin and blush that came to her face. Neither lasted long, of course, as her thoughts turned back to the obvious problem. Sighing, she curled forward to rest her elbows on her knees as she rubbed her forehead.
"It doesn't make any sense," she said, raking her hands back over her braids. "You and I were the only ones up there. The rest of the team still isn't due until four. I had the pitch till two-thirty."
Wood nodded, his expression darkening with thought. "Right," he agreed. "I got there around eleven-thirty. Saw Benjy downstairs, looked like he was just getting out of a meeting with his agent and Bruxbin, which was making him late for something."
"Benjy?" Angelina repeated with a frown. But the face of their reserve chaser came to mind. "Oh, right. Guessing Bruxbin was working out how much longer Benjy'll be covering for Sera."
"Probably," Wood agreed. "Though that guy goes off on tangents worse than Bagman ever used to, so they really could have been talking about anything."
Angelina gave a snort. "Must have something to do with being head of the Magical Sports and Games department."
"Prerequisite, I'm pretty sure," Wood agreed, giving her a smile. "Either way, I went up to the agent offices, found the paperwork that Fallon was supposed to have taken care of weeks ago, got that where it was supposed to go. By the time I was done sitting through all the lectures, I went up and changed, then joined you on the pitch."
"And you didn't see anyone?" Angelina asked.
"No," Wood affirmed, shaking his head. "I didn't see anyone. Hell, I didn't even know you were there until I was halfway down the risers."
Sighing, Angelina curled forward to rest her chin in her hand, eyes on the glittering surface of the Thames. What the hell did this person want?
"Why did it get so violent?" she wondered. "I mean, how—why did it go from, well, creepily obsessive to turning people into stone? And severed limbs! I mean, really!"
Wood winced and gave her an attempt at a comforting smile. "Yeah, that's messed up," he said, then bumped her shoulder with his. "But we'll figure it out. Together."
Angelina felt her face burn as she smiled back.
They took a moment, enjoying their afternoon for just a bit longer, before Wood pushed to his feet and motioned for Angelina to follow. Their hour was up. With a sigh, Angelina took his hand to get up and fell in step as they made their way back towards the NQA.
"Plus," Wood added as they waited for the walk signal at their first crossing, "with Nate driving everyone up the wall, maybe your stalker will slip up."
That made her snort and roll her eyes. "That or redirect his anger."
Wood smirked and nodded to the side. "Or that. Which, really, I'd pity the stalker for."
Angelina couldn't really counter that. And, well, she'd be lying if she said that thought wasn't growing on her quickly.
A/N: Happy Holidays! Uh… Yeah. Been a doozy, hasn't it? I can't really give a good enough explanation for the massive delay. It's just been life getting in the way and my energy being nil, I guess. For those of you still hanging around, thanks, I'm happy to actually have something for you. For those of you who're knew, here's hoping I can pull myself together and get this going a bit faster.