Chapter 13
"Finding Fiona"
"I'm gettin' too old fer this…"
Brutus, royal jailer - actually, one of several royal jailers - to King Odius, was NOT a happy ogre as he trudged up and down the drafty, dark hallways beneath the palace, his disgruntled grumbling all but inaudible beneath the jingling of his overburdened keyring and the constant drip-drip of water trickling along the tunnel walls.
Face it, old-timer - you're just plain gettin' OLD he corrected himself. Which was true. He WAS getting old - too old to be watching over a dungeon's worth of prisoners (even well-behaved ones locked safely away), and FAR too old to be doing such a job at THIS time of night.
It was his own fault, Brutus tried to remind himself when he got in this sort of funk - which was depressingly often. In the days before the monarchy (It still struck him as funny each time he said or heard it, even as an employee of same monarchy), he'd been a soldier, one of Grunder's men-at-arms. Soldiering was good work for an ogre - spending your days in the mud and grime, flexing your muscles on a regular basis - and he'd enjoyed it.
But then came Odius.
Actually, first came that OTHER guy (For the couple days HE lasted Brutus thought to himself with a sneer), THEN came Odius. He changed all the old rules - and made up new ones as he went along. No more brawling, no more raiding, no more pillaging or senseless violence - Odius wanted chains of command and rules of engagement. Odius wanted his army (and they were his army, as he so often reminded them) to be civilized.
"CIVILIZED!" the old guard growled, long since resigned to talking to himself during his solitary nightly patrols. "Us ogres? Not a chance…"
That had been too much for Brutus. He'd intended to quit the army altogether - but he never got the chance. In his pursuit of a more…uniform…military, Odius had decided to give a break of sorts to the graybeards of Grunder's troops.
"Troops," Brutus spit out the word with a grimace, then laughed a hoarse, phlegmmy laugh. "In MY day we were called HORDES - or WORSE!"
He and his fellow old-timers had been reassigned, given cushier posts closer to home (and far from the action), where they would be free to perform their duties largely free of overseers or other official meddlers…or so Odius had promised.
And he had kept that promise - after a fashion. Brutus had been assigned a post just outside Slobberknob - as a jailer in the labyrinth of cells beneath the king's newly "delivered" castle. As for taking orders, he'd never received anything more official than a grunt to stick a prisoner in this cell or that from some equally disinterested palace guard.
It was easy work - escape attempts were few and far between - and the pay was adequate. Plus, he had to admit, it kept him safely away from home, from his wife and her endless "to do" lists - go to the market, feed the gator, bring in the trash. She could be a tough taskmaster, as tough as any "commanding officer" Brutus had ever served under, and he was thankful for the time to himself.
Eventually, though, all that time to himself got a little tiresome. And uneventful night after uneventful night could, and did, quickly grow monotonous.
Not exactly the dream job we was promised he thought bitterly to himself as he turned down a long, narrow corridor. And that's not even countin' "Wizard's Row"…
Brutus shuddered, his fist tightening around the rough wooden baton that was his only means of self-defense outside his rusty battlefield training.
Not that anything one might learn on a battlefield could help in here…
"Wizards' Row" was the unofficial but universally accepted name for the dungeon's deepest and most foreboding cell block. Its real designation had been scratched out not long after the dungeons had gone into use, the new name carved into the rock above its entrance. Down that dark hallway had marched the most terrible, the most dangerous, the most feared of the kingdom's prisoners - the magic users…
Brutus shuddered again at the thought of it. Magic. Almost without exception, ogres hated it, despised it, and…well, feared it. Ogres were big, and strong, and mean - and the bigger, stronger, meaner guy was supposed to win. Everybody knew THAT. But magic…magic had a way of turning things all upside-down, especially in a fight. It just wasn't natural - it wasn't right.
Ain't right at all Brutus nodded as he continued his inspection. Some little guy mutterin' a couple nonsense words and wavin' around some little stick or such and *POOF!* you're a toad, or a newt, or a human…
That's why Odius had Wizards' Row created. Most prisoners could just be bullied into following the rules, but magical types…magical types had to be put away for good. And you couldn't just kill them - what if you got it wrong, and they came back? The only thing worse than a wizard was AN angry wizard…or witch…or fairy-tale whatever.
Which is why they're ALL locked up down here - with ME Brutus sighed, wiping the sweat from his deeply lined forehead. I'm gettin' too old for-
"Hey! HEY! Where'd he go?"
He was also getting too old for THIS.
The shouting was coming from cell 7 - from the big, bald new guy, Brutus guessed by the accent. He'd come down here the day before with a girl and some sort of crazy little talking horse. Brutus had already been forced to move the animal once - if he had to move these newcomers around again, he was NOT going to be happy!
"What's all the commotion?" Brutus bellowed as he banged on cell 7's door with his nightstick. He opened the peephole - and scowled as he found the new prisoner already staring back, panic in his eyes.
"Boy, am I glad YE're here!" Shrek shouted, pointing excitedly at the empty floor in the middle of the cell. "He's gone! That crazy magician's GONE!"
Brutus felt sick. Gone? How could he be gone?
"What d'ya mean, 'gone'?!" he barked. "Gone where?"
"How should I know?" the prisoner shrieked, arms waving wildly. "He just sorta stood up, muttered a couple o' them fancy words o' his and *POOF* he was gone! Outta here! Bye bye, see ye later!"
"Awright, stand aside," Brutus grunted, fumbling with the key. Something fishy was going on. If this guy could have just up and left whenever he wanted, why had been sitting on Wizards' Row all these years? Besides, the guy on the next shift had told him that Odius had some kind of special rock carted in that was supposed to keep stuff like this from happening!
Unlocking the door, Brutus warily stepped inside.
"Up against the wall!" he shouted, motioning for Shrek and Donkey to back up as he relocked the door. He began to search the room. If the magician WAS there, he couldn't see him. Which meant he was either really gone - along with Brutus' job - or hiding behind something.
Or UNDER something…
Grinning, Brutus approached a heap of straw in the far corner. It was hard to see through the spy hole, but inside the cell it was obvious that every last bit of straw in the room had been piled in one corner, forming a haystack several feet tall - easily big enough to conceal a certain "disappearing" magician.
As Shrek and Donkey stared on in apprehension, the guard prodded the straw, with no effect. Scowling, he poked it again, harder. Again, nothing.
Tired of this game of hide-and-seek, Brutus gave the haystack a healthy kick. As expected, an angry-looking Cerul popped out, spitting straw and expletives and clutching his side. The element of surprise already wasted, the wizard nevertheless made a play for the guard's keys. Brutus easily sidestepped the lunge and grabbed his nightstick. Rearing back, he got ready to put the still-wincing Cerul down for the count - and nearly wrenched his shoulder out of socket as he swung, his arm moving, but not the nightstick.
The startled jailer glanced over to see Shrek's green hand wrapped around the other end of the baton. Before the guard could react, Shrek's other hand was clamped tightly over his mouth.
"Cer! Tie him up!" Shrek barked at his brother, who was still struggling to catch his breath.
"With what?" Cerul wheezed. "It's not exactly 'Cerul's Rope Emporium' in here, now is it?"
"How 'bout yer robes?"
"My ROBES! I don't THINK so! I'll have ye know these are- "
"I DON'T CARE!" Shrek shouted. "Ye got somethin' on under 'em, right?"
"Well, yeah," Cerul conceded. "But that doesn't- "
"Then make with the TYIN'!"
Muttering under his breath, Cerul pulled off the robes, revealing a ragged tunic and some patched, badly worn leggings sporting the same star pattern as his robes and hat.
"Nice pants," Shrek sneered as Cerul tore the robes into strips.
"Ha, ha," Cerul huffed as he wound the strips around Brutus' wrists and ankles. "Funny, I don't see YOU usin' YER clothes t'tie up the guard…"
"That's 'cause I'm not wearin' a DRESS!" Shrek laughed as he unclasped the keyring from the immobilized guard's belt. "Is he all tied up?"
"Yeah, he's tied up," Cerul grumbled, tightening the gag and rechecking his knots. "Now what?"
"Stuff him in there, I guess," Shrek shrugged, thumbing toward the straw. "Next guy'll find him - maybe…"
Cerul grunted as he hoisted the heavy prisoner onto his shoulder, unused to lifting much after his years of confinement. He dropped Brutus into the hole he had cleared for himself in the wet straw, then piled the leftover on top of the wriggling guard as Shrek went to work unlocking the cell.
"Done yet?" Shrek called out a second later as he swung the cell door open.
Cerul gave Shrek a thumbs up as he climbed to his feet. Grinning, he gave a self-satisfied nod to his handiwork, strolled past Shrek and out the door, snatching the baton from the ogre's hand as he passed. Donkey filed out behind the wizard, clearing his throat as he waited impatiently for his mouth to ctach up with the rest of him. Finally, Shrek locked the door behind them, pocketing the keys and taking one last look inside to make sure the guard was still tied up.
From beneath the hay, Brutus glared back at the brown eye staring at him through the spyhole. He cursed quietly (if only because of the gag) to himself as the peephole door slid shut, then sighed as he prepared himself for a long night.
I'm gettin' too old for this…
---------------
"Now, If I were a power-crazy ogre king, where would I lock up a princess?" Shrek mused half-jokingly to himself as he looked around, trying to get his bearings. "What d'ye think, Cerul?" he called out to his brother, who sat a few feet away, studying the guard's nightstick intently.
"Huh? What?" the wizard sputtered, looking up from his studies at the mention of his name.
Shrek groaned in annoyance. "F'r the love o' Pete, Cerul! Would ye put that thing down an' help me come up with a plan?"
"Ye never know - it MIGHT come in handy," Cerul answered defiantly, slipping the baton under his belt. "Especially in Wizards' Row! What d'ye want, anyway?"
"I WANT t'find m'WIFE, if that's OK with YOU!" Shrek snapped. He was tired, and exasperated, and more than a little worried about Fiona - and Cerul's usual scatterbrained ways weren't helping matters much.
Neither was Donkey. His voice was starting to come back (A whole 'nother problem altogether Shrek thought to himself with a forced chuckle), but he was too preoccupied with making sure it was ALL the way back to be of much help, either. Which meant that - as usual - it was up to Shrek to produce the daring rescue.
"Come on - we're not gonna find her sittin' 'round here," Shrek grumbled, pointing toward the single entrance to - and exit from - Wizards' Row. "Don't suppose this dungeon has a 'tallest tower,' eh?"
"Not exactly, no," Cerul smirked. "What with it bein' underground an' all…"
"Well, then - I guess we just search th'whole place!" Shrek shrugged. "First thing we gotta do is- "
"But, Shrek - what about checkin' in heEHAW!"
Shrek winced at the noise. "Shhhhhhhh!" he hissed at Donkey. "What if somebody's list- "
"B-but- "
"But what?"
"What it the princess is in h- " Donkey caught himself just in time "What if she's in Wizards' Row?" "Is she a wizard?" Shrek asked annoyedly.
"Uh…no?"
"No. So why would she be in Wizards' Row?"
"You ain't a wizard, an' YOU're in here…"
"They just put me down here with Cerul…"
"An' me?"
"Ye said it yerself - ye got stuck down here 'cause ye were annoyin' everyone else. Now let's go!"
Donkey shook his head in defiance and took a seat in front of cell 7.
"Arrrrrgh!" Shrek groaned. "Y'know what? Fine! Stay here! I don't care!"
"All I'm sayin' is maybe we oughtta check the other- " Donkey started to argue, but Shrek was already stomping down the hall toward the main corridor, Cerul on his heels.
"Probably better off leavin' him here anyway," Donkey could hear Shrek grumble as the two ogres rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. "Knowin' him, he'd shoot off that big mouth o' his 'round some guard, an' the next thing ye know we'd be back in that cell…"
Stupid ogre - thinks he's so smart just 'cause he got two legs Donkey thought irately to himself as he set to work searching Wizard's Row. I'll show him! Donkey - search an' rescue! That's me…uh huh…got THAT right! Have no fear, Donkey is ON the case!
Donkey opened his mouth and took a deep breath, ready to call out for the missing princess, then snapped it shut just as quickly as he remembered Shrek's "warning."
He's probably right 'bout those guards, though Donkey had to admit. OK, then - we gotta do this quietly…I can do quiet…no problem…
---------------
Fiona's tapered ears perked up at the sound of muffled voices from out in the corridor. Something was going on - an escape attempt?
Maybe it's Shrek! she thought hopefully to herself. She waited for a knock at her door, for her husband's voice calling her name, for anything.
But nothing came, and a moment later the footsteps and voices in the hallway faded away.
She slumped to the floor of her cell, shivering. She'd lost track of how long she'd been locked up - there was no window to keep track of days (had it been days?), and no way to keep track of hours except by the rotation of the guards.
Worst of all, with no windows and the nearest torches several yards on the other side of her well-secured door, the cell was pitch black - except for its strange stonework walls, which sparkled with an eerie light all their own.
Fiona wiped away a tear as she did her best to get comfortable on the wet cell floor. She refused to panic, but it wasn't easy staying calm. She felt cold…and sick…and weak.
What I FEEL is helpless she thought dejectedly to herself as she struggled to maintain her composure, doing her best to come up with some sort of escape plan and hoping that somewhere, her husband was doing the same, and having better luck. I HATE this! I can't GO anywhere, I can't DO anything - it's like being back in the tower again! No, it's WORSE than the tower! At least THERE I had a window!
Unable to take it anymore, Fiona lashed out with a vicious kick at the door. It didn't budge, and the princess had to bite back a few choice words as pain shot through her foot.
Well, THAT was mature, Fiona she chastised herself as she limped back to her resting spot on the floor. She sat down and began to rub her foot.
Something wasn't right…
Her fingers traced the contours of her foot, confirming what she already suspected. Trying to fight back her growing alarm, she stumbled to the nearest wall. She held up a trembling hand to the vaguely luminescent black rock.
And she started to cry…
---------------
"Princess?" Donkey hissed as nudged aside a cell's spyhole with his nose. He peered inside. Nothing.
Shaking his head, he dropped back down to all fours and ran to the next cell.
"Princess? Princess Fiona?" he whispered. Again, nothing.
He was making his way down Wizards' Row, checking each cell for his missing friend, determined to prove Shrek wrong. So far, though, he wasn't having much luck.
"Princess?" he called out as he galloped from cell to cell. "Princess?…No princess…Princess?…Not the princess…Princess?…Arrrrrgh! DEFINITELY not the princess!!"
It was no use. He leaned against the final door, a thoroughly discouraged Donkey. If Fiona wasn't in HERE, she wasn't ANYWHERE on Wizards' Row - and Shrek had been right all along.
Steeling himself for disappointment, Donkey reared up on his hind legs to slide open the spy hole. Taking a peek inside, he could just make out a figure in the middle of the room, a long, red braid falling down the back of her baggy but unmistakable burlap dress.
"Princess?" he whispered. The prisoner didn't answer, or turn around, or show any sign she'd even heard Donkey.
"Princess Fiona?" he asked again, louder - again, to no response.
But that's GOTTA be the princess! Donkey thought to himself as he looked around vainly for some way to open the door. I mean, there's the hair, an'…an' the dress, an'…an', it's GOTTA be her!
Something was wrong. Donkey was sure of that much. And if he'd learned anything in the past few months, it was this: When in doubt, ask-
---------------
"SHREK!"
Shrek, conducting his own search with Cerul a few tunnels down, cringed at the sound of his name echoing through the corridors. He turned to find a wild-eyed Donkey barreling down the hallway, setting himself just in time to catch the panicky animal in mid-gallop.
"Whoa! Donkey!" the ogre grunted as he swept Donkey off his feet. "I thought I told ye t'stay put!"
"I know, I know, Shrek, but- "
"But WHAT?!"
"I found the princess! I found heEEHAW!"
Shrek instinctively threw his hands over his ears at the screech, inadvertently dropping Donkey in the process.
"Sorry 'bout that," Donkey apologized as he climbed to his four feet. "Still working on my 'H's. Y'know, there really ain't a good tongue-twister for 'H.' I mean, with 'R' ya got 'rubber baby buggy bumper,' an' 'S's got 'She shells…see shells…she sells shee- "
"DONKEY!" Shrek roared. "WHERE IS FIONA?"
"Oh, right - the princess! She's back on Wizards' Row - just like SOMEBODY said she prob'ly was…"
"All right, all right - we'll figure out who was right an' who was wrong lat- "
"What's t'figger? I wuz right, and YOU wuz wrong. Maybe y'oughtta listen t'me once in a while, huh? What d'ya think o' THAT?"
Shrek wasn't about to get entangled in another pointless argument with Donkey - not one he really had no hope of winning, and especially not with Fiona just a few hundred yards away. His only answer was a roll of his eyes before spinning on his heels and charging back up the hall Donkey had just traversed, gesturing for his two companions to follow.
"Treat me like I'm some sorta four-legged idiot - everybody KNOWS donkeys're about the smartest animals there is!" Donkey continued to argue, too wrapped up in his own indignant defense to notice his friends' hurried exit. "Well, y'know, except for dogs…an' parrots…an' monkeys…an' pigs…an' maybe them really SMART horses - the ones that can do math an' stuff by stompin' their feet? THAT's pretty smart - 'cause math's tough, y'know? Ever seen one o' those guys, Shrek? Shrek? Yo, Shrek…Shrek!"
---------------
"Fiona!"
Shrek pounded against the thick wooden door of Fiona's cell with all his ogre might, rattling the walls and shouting her name again and again until his voice grew thin and hoarse-
"FIONA!!!"
- but to no avail. He could just make out her silhouette through the door's tiny window, but for all his efforts, she showed no reaction - not a sound, not a twitch.
Donkey, watching Shrek's struggles with concern, sensed a lull in the action. "Maybe she's mad at ya!" he offered helpfully.
"She's NOT mad at m- " Shrek started to answer, hesitated, then turned back to the door. "Ye're NOT mad at me, ARE ye, honey?" he called out into the darkness. "See, I told ye she wasn't mad," he answered smugly when no response was forthcoming.
"Oh, sure," Donkey nodded, "unless she's givin' ya the 'silent treatment'…"
"Silent treatment?" Shrek echoed incredulously. "An' what would ye know 'bout any 'silent treatment.' That fire-breathin' flame o' yours doesn't e'en talk!"
"SO?" Donkey sniffed. "I'll have ya know Dragon makes all sorts o' noise! She roars, an'…an' she growls, an'…Oh! An' she makes that cute li'l purring noise in the the back o' her throat when she sleeps - it's like…like…'prrrr' - nah, more like, like 'purrrrrrrURK!"
Donkey began to cough violently as his attempts at mimicking Dragon caught in his throat.
"Well, I*koff*I can't really do it, but y-*koff*y'get the idea," Donkey wheezed. "It's really kinda…uh…Hey, Shrek? You OK, man?"
For the first time during his little impersonation, Donkey noticed the ogre wasn't listening. His friend stood in front of Fiona's door, chin in hand, deep in thought as he mumbled tiredly to himself.
"…door won't open…keys don't work…an' she's not answerin'…"
"Shrek?"
Finally acknowledging Donkey, the ogre looked down at his anxious sidekick. "Somethin's not right," he muttered with a nod toward the cell door.
"Nah - really?" Donkey teased. "Ya KNOW, maybe if SOMEBODY'd thought t'look in there a little SOONER…"
Donkey expected to get a reaction out of Shrek - a sneered insult, a muttered ogre curse word if he was REALLY put out - but even so, he was caught completely off guard as Shrek whirled around, face red-green with rage. "I GET IT, OK?!!" he roared, causing Donkey to stumble back in shock.
"Yeah, I…I…OK," Donkey whimpered, cowering. "I wuz just JOKIN', man - I didn't mean t-to…I'm sorry…"
As Donkey struggled to stammer out a decent apology, Shrek sighed deeply and slumped against the still firmly shut door. "Don't worry 'bout it, Donkey," the ogre mumbled. "S'not yer fault - I jus'…jus- "
It was all too much, even for an ogre. He sighed, his broad shoulders stooped. Donkey risked a couple of uncertain baby steps forward - just in time to see a single tear trace its way down Shrek's rough cheek.
"Awright, awright - don't go getting' all weepy on me," Donkey gently teased his friend with a smirk as he took a seat next to the ogre. "We'll get Fiona out o' there - you'll see! I mean, how hard can it be with THREE of us?"
"Oh, yeeeeaaah - 'specially with that No. 3 bein' such a BIG help an' all," Shrek groused, jabbing an accusatory finger in his brother's direction. "Isn't that right, Cer?"
"Huh?" the would-be enchanter sputtered, looking up from his seat on the floor and the baton he'd been worrying over since their escape. "Did ye say somethin'?"
"THE WIZARD SPEAKS! Oh, please, great an' mighty wizard - don't go inconveniencin' yerself on account o' us mere mortals!" Shrek sneered sarcastically, dipping low in a mock bow and grinning as Cerul fumed. "After all, I'M only tryin' t'break m'wife out o' prison here - I wouldn't DREAM o' tearin' ye away from that…that…"
For the first time, Shrek noticed the rusty pocketknife Cerul was using to whittle away at the weapon.
"Where'd ye get that?"
"From the guard. Remember, he was gonna hit me, an' then ye grabbed t- "
"Not the stick! The KNIFE!"
"Oh, THAT - it came off the keyring…" Cerul answered nonchalantly as he returned to his task, whistling cheerily as he chipped away at the rapidly diminishing baton.
"Oh. I guess that's all right, then," Shrek nodded, satisfied for the moment with the explanation. "I'll jus- Wait a second! I'VE got th' keys!"
"Do ye now?" Cerul asked with a sly smile, his work interrupted yet again.
"YEAH! As a matter o' fact, I DO!" Shrek bellowed, growing increasingly irritated by the second. "They're right…right…now where'd I put those- "
Shrek began to search his pockets, more confused than ever, until a flash of movement from Cerul's direction caught his eye. He looked up to find his brother spinning the missing keyring on his finger, the wizard's earlier smirk now a full-blown grin.
"Lookin' for these, Shrek?"
"Gimme those!" Shrek growled as he marched over and snatched the keys from Cerul's hand, stuffing them back in his pocket. "How'd ye do that, anyway?"
"Sleight o' hand," Cerul explained, tapping his star-spangled headwear. "I AM a magician, after all!"
This time, it was Shrek's turn to grin.
"Humph! An' here all this time I thought ye were a wizard…"
Cerul's eyes narrowed at the crack.
"S'not like anybody knows the difference…" he muttered, arms crossed in obvious displeasure.
"Yeah, well…wizard, magician - what I NEED is a good locksmith right 'bout now…" Shrek shot back as he turned back to the task of freeing Fiona.
Cerul's eyes brightened at the comment, sensing a chance to play a meaningful role in their little jailbreak.
"Locksmith? Why didn't ye say so earlier?"
Pushing Shrek to one side, the younger ogre kneeled in front of Fiona's door and again flipped out the pilfered knife. Slipping the rusty blade into the door's keyhole, he began the painstaking task of picking the similarly rusted lock.
"Where'd ye learn t'do that?" Shrek asked as he eyed his brother with a mix of wonder and suspicion.
"Well, y'know…ye have t'know these things when ye're a wizard, in case ye- " Cerul started to explain. Catching Shrek's dubious expression, though, he made the wise decision to cut his explanation short. "Well, ye know…"
Shrek looked as Donkey and winked.
"An' he wonders why he's locked up in h- "
"GOT IT!"
Without so much as finishing his sentence or offering a word of thanks to Cerul, Shrek shoved his startled brother aside and threw the door open. Cerul and Donkey watched worriedly from the doorway as Shrek bounded across the room and crouched down next to the still-motionless Fiona.
"Fiona?" the ogre whispered as he rested a hand gently on his wife's slender shoulder. "Fiona, are ye…are ye all right?"
Shrek waited for an answer, head cocked to one side, ears perked up to catch the slightest sound. But he had no better luck soliciting an answer from the princess at her side than he had from the other side of the cell door.
"OK, fine - don't talk t'me," Shrek sighed. "Probably serves me right f'r…f'r WHATEVER I did. But would ye at least LOOK at me?"
Fiona didn't move a muscle. Taking matters into his own hands, Shrek reached out and cradled his wife's chin in his thick fingers. He gently turned her face toward his own-
- and gasped as she looked up at him, her blue eyes brimming with tears, her face betraying her own suffering locked away beneath the castle.
"Shrek, I…I don't…"
"Shhhhh," Shrek hushed his badly rattled wife, even as his own mind raced. He had feared the worst when he had awakened with Fiona nowhere to be found. He knew he should be overjoyed to have found her, alive and apparently unharmed.
O'course, that depends on yer definition o' 'unharmed' Shrek thought to himself as he held the trembling princess. He cursed himself for his reaction a moment earlier, but...but he couldn't help it. He had tried to brace himself for the worst, but there was no way he could have been prepared to find Fiona - his beautiful, brave Fiona - in such a state.
Very scared.
Very helpless.
And very HUMAN.