Training Misfits
Disclaimer: Same as before...This fic may spawn a few shipper fics (Couples are Lance/Kitty, Shipwreck/Cover Girl, Low Light/Storm, as well as possibly a Demerest/Camille relationship.) The X-men might be encountered in this, I don't know yet, but I'm primarily focusing on the Misfits for this fic and have a sequel regarding the X-men's reaction to this whole state of affairs.
Roadblock stood at the edge of the woods, right next to him was a red sign with the words, USMC Endurance Course on it. He was holding a stopwatch and waited for the Misfits to emerge.
"Excuse me monsieur, what's the training event for the day?" Camille asked Roadblock.
Demerest quickly translated Camille's question, but she motioned him to be quiet. "I'm sorry about that, but this show is to be broadcast in France so hence my questions in the native language."
"No problem, it is understood." Roadblock said, "That your program won't air in this neighborhood..."
Just then a fellow with a mustache, wearing camouflage trousers and boots, a Marine patrol cap, and a sleeveless denim shirt came running out of the woods with an eighty pound rucksack. "C'mon kids, get the lead out! You've got these last few yards."
'Ooh la la, what sort of a place is this...Having such a big, frightening man yelling at children, even if they are mutants...' Camille thought, but remembering she was a journalist and had to be professional and diplomatic she restrained her initial impressions. It was such an odd combination, the most effective anti-terrorist unit on the planet yet so many of their members acted like children. Especially those three, Beach Head, Leatherneck, and Wet Suit. 'What a crazy place? Remember Camille, you're a journalist, be professional...'
Running in, one after another came Lance, Pietro, Althea, and Toad. They were selected to run the endurance course for that morning. The others were scheduled to run it later on in the day. "The Marine leading them is codenamed Gung Ho." Demerest began.
"Bonjour mademoiselle..." Gung Ho said.
Camille smiled, despite herself, at Gung Ho's fluent French, "You are French?"
"No, mademoiselle, I come from Louisiana...Folks around here call me Gung Ho...The black big guy over there is Roadblock, he may look mean but he's nice..." Gung Ho replied, "And the four kids there are Avalanche, his powers include the ability to create earthquakes and create geographic formations."
The camera panned towards a young man, with dark hair and a lean build. "The silver haired boy is Quicksilver...For obvious reasons, he's the fastest thing on two legs." Demerest added.
The camera panned towards Pietro who struck a couple poses and quickly combed his hair, "Bonjour people of France, especially the gorgeous madmoiselles...mmph!!!"
Lance clamped a hand over Pietro's mouth and said, "Save it quickie."
"Mmrph grph..." Pietro said as Lance held him still.
"That's Wavedancer. A multi-talented individual if you ask me." Demerest replied, "Her abilities include breathing underwater and mastery of many different martial arts."
"And last, but certainly not least, is Toad..." Demerest continued as the camera panned to Todd Tolansky who waved and did a backward flip into the air.
"The Toad's got style, character, charisma...." Toad said.
"...And a slight caffeine high." Lance quipped.
Camille was amazed that Toad had managed to do the flip despite the fact that he was wearing a white t-shirt, green fatigue trousers and boots as well as about eighty pounds of gear on his back.
"Monsieur Demerest, where did you come by these children?" Camille asked.
"You'd have to ask Roadblock." Demerest said, indicating Roadblock.
"Monsieur, where did you find these children?" Camille asked, though she did feel it slightly ridiculous to refer to the older Misfits as children, to their fans in France they were just children.
"First my patrol and I found Toad, shortly after Magneto abandoned him." Roadblock replied, "He thought he'd killed Toad but he'd set him free."
Roadblock put one muscular arm around Toad's shoulders and said, "And he's become like a son to me..."
"Da-ad...Not in public." Toad grimaced.
Camille smiled, despite herself, as imposing as Roadblock and many of the other soldiers on base appeared, he still seemed to be a great father figure for Toad. The boy seemed happy with the Joes and his team mates.
"So what about you? Where did you come from?" Camille asked Lance.
"Quicksilver, myself, and two others were also abandoned by Magneto shortly after Toad was kicked out of the Brotherhood." Lance replied.
"So why did Magneto abandon you?" Camille asked.
Lance's features darkened then, his voice taking a hard edge to it, making him seem far older than his eighteen years. "If you weren't up to his demanding standards then he'd sidebar you, just leave you out in the middle of nowhere." Lance said, in reply, "I mean training here is tough, but at least if we do well we're rewarded and even if we don't do so well, the adults won't kick us to the curb."
Camille said, "But he often has said that he is on the side of mutants everywhere..."
"Listen, we found out the hard way that Magneto's little more than a liar and a megalomaniac." Lance said.
"And what of Charles Xavier and his X-men...?" Camille asked.
"They seem to have their noses in the air, in some ways they're a lot like Magneto, in the way that they recruit only the best mutants and also act like their so superior to everybody." Lance said.
"But don't you have a relationship with one of the X-men?" Camille asked, "Mademoiselle Kitty Pryde..."
"I do." Lance replied, "But even that's a challenge unto itself. Both of us have team mates that are against our relationship and in Kitty's case there are a few people on her team that try to disrupt our relationship at every opportunity by introducing my rival into things."
"So, what exactly does training here entail?" Camille asked.
"It's not all military and physical training, the Joes have an interest in continuing our educations..." Lance began, "We take the typical classes of the average high school student."
"Each of us here on base has some sort of specialty in some practical skill, a foreign language, or some art or science." Demerest explained.
"What's next on the agenda?" Camille asked.
"Well the kids are going to get cleaned up, and the next thing we're going to do is have lunch." Demerest replied, "And next you'll be observing one of their classes."
The French cameraman had already packed away most of his equipment when Cover Girl tapped Demerest on the shoulder, "Hey, Nate, I need to get ready for the kids' English lesson, hold down the fort for me?"
"Alright." Demerest replied.
"So, Monsieur Demerest, can you tell me a little about yourself?" Camille asked.
"Certainly." Demerest replied.
"You are British?" Camille asked.
"I am." Demerest nodded.
"I thought GI Joe is an American unit?" Camille asked.
"It is, but we do recruit people from other nations. Particularly those that we have the personnel exchange program with." Demerest replied, "The UK is one of them."
"So what exactly do you do in the military?" Camille asked.
"Is this going to be on film?" Demerest asked.
"No, this is just out of curiosity." Camille replied.
"Well in that case, I'm a member of Her Majesty's Special Air Service." Demerest replied.
"How long have you been in the service?" Camille asked.
"I joined the British Army, the Territorial Army, 21 SAS, at the age of sixteen..." Demerest replied.
"The Territorial SAS?" Camille asked, her English was fluent, her accent making her voice seem melodious, almost as if she were singing.
"The Territorial Army is the UK's military reserve." Demerest replied, "So what about you, why journalism?"
"Forgive me, monsieur, you caught me off guard, I'm used to asking questions not really answering them." Camille replied, "I've always had a desire to seek the truth about anything. I never trusted things I heard on general principle. I always had to find out for myself. Journalism seemed to be the natural choice. And why the army?"
"I was a smart kid in school," Demerest replied, "In fact I went to a boarding school in Bristol, one of the better ones in the UK. I guess you could chalk it up to the fact that I was bored with school, it didn't present a challenge to me."
"I've heard of the SAS, and I've also heard the term Selection, what does that mean." Camille asked.
They were walking down the pathway, shaded by trees and shrubs, courtesy of Psyche Out's green thumb program. The idea was to beautify the Pit, make it seem less intimidating. Towards that end, several gazebos, tree lined walkways, and lawns were placed all about the place.
"Selection first starts with about three weeks in the Brecon Beacons, the Welsh countryside. It consists of a lot of long range endurance marches and running through the hills with upwards of fifty pounds of gear. Then it consists of continuation training for a week, then about a month in Malaya at the British Army Jungle Warfare School, and then three weeks of Escape and Evasion training." Demerest replied.
"Is it different for the Territorial SAS?" Camille asked.
"Yes, it's longer, because our Selection is held on weekends and one night a week." Demerest replied, "But that doesn't mean it's any less demanding physically. If anything else you'd best have the self discipline to keep yourself in good shape or you've failed.
The two sat down to lunch and Camille asked, "What do you think of the Misfits?"
"They're a great bunch of lads, despite their backgrounds." Demerest replied, "Many of them are orphans, or abandoned by the parents, which amounts to the same thing. We're the closest thing to a family that these kids have had."
"So how long have you been here?" Camille asked.
"Roughly about a month." Demerest replied. Lunch passed by uneventfully, and the news crew headed toward the school house in the small corner of the base where the Misfits lived.
"Class, we have a visitor." Cover Girl began, "Miss Leclair, of Channel 7 news, Paris."
"Are we on camera?" Toad asked.
"Well duh, it's a TV news crew." Pietro replied, "Of course we'll be on camera."
All the older Misfits were in the school room. Shipwreck was taking care of the babies and Trinity was off training with the Blind Master. "Look sharp guys, here she comes." Cover Girl said.
Camille entered the room, the cameraman standing at a distance, with Demerest standing nearby. "What subject is this?"
"I was about to teach literature today." Cover Girl said, "We're covering Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea."
"Ah, one of the fathers of modern science fiction." Camille began, "France's contribution to that genre of literature."
"What other subjects do you usually study here?" Camille asked.
"It can vary," Cover Girl said, "Airtight teaches them math and science. Bree and Lifeline teach them basic first aid. I teach them English, not really my specialty, and auto repair. Roadblock teaches home economics. The Blind Master and Stormshadow teach them various mental disciplines."
"What of you, monsieur Demerest?" Camille asked.
"I'm taking over teaching English and foreign languages for interested parties." Demerest asked, "I'm already teaching and improving Arcade's German."
The lesson began and Fred raised his hand, "Was it just revenge that Captain Nemo was motivated by? Because it seems he was also driven by an inferiority complex and an overcompensating personality..."
"Oh spare us Blob." Pietro remarked, "You've been reading those psychology books too long."
"Pietro, you and Captain Nemo do have a few similarities..." Fred began.
"I have nothing in common with that seafaring lunatic!" Pietro snapped.
"I don't know Pietro, due to your Daddy issues and the fact that Magneto never deemed you as 'good enough' created in you an inferiority complex..." Blob began.
"Magneto is your father?" Camille asked Pietro.
"WHAT FATHER! I HAVE NO FATHER..." Pietro began.
"So how did you find this talent for psychological analysis?" Camille asked.
"Don't encourage him, please..." Lance whispered under his breath.
"And also, Pietro, you adjust to having such a bad father by over compensating." Fred continued, "By having such a massive ego, by annoying and insulting others, you are overcompensating. You need a hug..."
"WHAT!? I'm NOT suffering from whatever it is you say I'm suffering from!" Pietro replied.
"Group hug!" Fred shouted.
"AGGH! NO! SAVE ME! HEEELLLPPP!" Pietro shouted, as Fred and all the other Misfits practically piled on top of him.
"The Misfits are not simply a military unit." Camille began, turning towards the camera, "They are also a family, a close knit community..."
"Let go off me you lummox! I need air..." Pietro said.
Camille signed off and the cameraman packed up his equipment. She and her camera man drove back to their hotel to get some much needed rest.
A few hours later, Camille lay in the bathtub of her hotel room. Thoughts were bouncing around inside her head as she soaked in the hot water. As bizarre as their behavior was, she could see that the Misfits were a family. And as crazy as some of the members of the GI Joe team were, they genuinely cared for the Misfits as their own children.
She drained the bathtub and dried herself with a towel. Walking into the small bedroom, she put on a powder blue night shirt that terminated three quarters of the way down from her thigh. An odd group, these Misfits were, but they seemed better than the X-men, who denied to be interviewed many times. The Misfits, at least, agreed with the idea of being interviewed.
Camille remembered why she believed that mutants should be given a fair chance. In Paris, when she had just become a journalist, she covered a story where the French police arrested a gang of young men that had beaten a teenaged mutant to death with lengths of pipe and crowbars.
She'd almost vomited when she saw the child, barely thirteen or fourteen, the only discernibly mutant feature being the pair of bat-like wings on its back. The poor thing's face had been black and blue with bruises and cuts, a cheek bone had been smashed in. The bones in the wings and arms had been broken. The child had died of massive head trauma, and the three youths responsible for this beating were arrested. She believed in the idea of painting mutants in a positive light. They were not monsters, or devil children as some believed them to be, they were people like any human being. Camille yawned, stretched, and curled up underneath the covers and settled into a peaceful sleep.
TBC (Up Next: Documenting a day in the Delgato family life...)
Disclaimer: Same as before...This fic may spawn a few shipper fics (Couples are Lance/Kitty, Shipwreck/Cover Girl, Low Light/Storm, as well as possibly a Demerest/Camille relationship.) The X-men might be encountered in this, I don't know yet, but I'm primarily focusing on the Misfits for this fic and have a sequel regarding the X-men's reaction to this whole state of affairs.
Roadblock stood at the edge of the woods, right next to him was a red sign with the words, USMC Endurance Course on it. He was holding a stopwatch and waited for the Misfits to emerge.
"Excuse me monsieur, what's the training event for the day?" Camille asked Roadblock.
Demerest quickly translated Camille's question, but she motioned him to be quiet. "I'm sorry about that, but this show is to be broadcast in France so hence my questions in the native language."
"No problem, it is understood." Roadblock said, "That your program won't air in this neighborhood..."
Just then a fellow with a mustache, wearing camouflage trousers and boots, a Marine patrol cap, and a sleeveless denim shirt came running out of the woods with an eighty pound rucksack. "C'mon kids, get the lead out! You've got these last few yards."
'Ooh la la, what sort of a place is this...Having such a big, frightening man yelling at children, even if they are mutants...' Camille thought, but remembering she was a journalist and had to be professional and diplomatic she restrained her initial impressions. It was such an odd combination, the most effective anti-terrorist unit on the planet yet so many of their members acted like children. Especially those three, Beach Head, Leatherneck, and Wet Suit. 'What a crazy place? Remember Camille, you're a journalist, be professional...'
Running in, one after another came Lance, Pietro, Althea, and Toad. They were selected to run the endurance course for that morning. The others were scheduled to run it later on in the day. "The Marine leading them is codenamed Gung Ho." Demerest began.
"Bonjour mademoiselle..." Gung Ho said.
Camille smiled, despite herself, at Gung Ho's fluent French, "You are French?"
"No, mademoiselle, I come from Louisiana...Folks around here call me Gung Ho...The black big guy over there is Roadblock, he may look mean but he's nice..." Gung Ho replied, "And the four kids there are Avalanche, his powers include the ability to create earthquakes and create geographic formations."
The camera panned towards a young man, with dark hair and a lean build. "The silver haired boy is Quicksilver...For obvious reasons, he's the fastest thing on two legs." Demerest added.
The camera panned towards Pietro who struck a couple poses and quickly combed his hair, "Bonjour people of France, especially the gorgeous madmoiselles...mmph!!!"
Lance clamped a hand over Pietro's mouth and said, "Save it quickie."
"Mmrph grph..." Pietro said as Lance held him still.
"That's Wavedancer. A multi-talented individual if you ask me." Demerest replied, "Her abilities include breathing underwater and mastery of many different martial arts."
"And last, but certainly not least, is Toad..." Demerest continued as the camera panned to Todd Tolansky who waved and did a backward flip into the air.
"The Toad's got style, character, charisma...." Toad said.
"...And a slight caffeine high." Lance quipped.
Camille was amazed that Toad had managed to do the flip despite the fact that he was wearing a white t-shirt, green fatigue trousers and boots as well as about eighty pounds of gear on his back.
"Monsieur Demerest, where did you come by these children?" Camille asked.
"You'd have to ask Roadblock." Demerest said, indicating Roadblock.
"Monsieur, where did you find these children?" Camille asked, though she did feel it slightly ridiculous to refer to the older Misfits as children, to their fans in France they were just children.
"First my patrol and I found Toad, shortly after Magneto abandoned him." Roadblock replied, "He thought he'd killed Toad but he'd set him free."
Roadblock put one muscular arm around Toad's shoulders and said, "And he's become like a son to me..."
"Da-ad...Not in public." Toad grimaced.
Camille smiled, despite herself, as imposing as Roadblock and many of the other soldiers on base appeared, he still seemed to be a great father figure for Toad. The boy seemed happy with the Joes and his team mates.
"So what about you? Where did you come from?" Camille asked Lance.
"Quicksilver, myself, and two others were also abandoned by Magneto shortly after Toad was kicked out of the Brotherhood." Lance replied.
"So why did Magneto abandon you?" Camille asked.
Lance's features darkened then, his voice taking a hard edge to it, making him seem far older than his eighteen years. "If you weren't up to his demanding standards then he'd sidebar you, just leave you out in the middle of nowhere." Lance said, in reply, "I mean training here is tough, but at least if we do well we're rewarded and even if we don't do so well, the adults won't kick us to the curb."
Camille said, "But he often has said that he is on the side of mutants everywhere..."
"Listen, we found out the hard way that Magneto's little more than a liar and a megalomaniac." Lance said.
"And what of Charles Xavier and his X-men...?" Camille asked.
"They seem to have their noses in the air, in some ways they're a lot like Magneto, in the way that they recruit only the best mutants and also act like their so superior to everybody." Lance said.
"But don't you have a relationship with one of the X-men?" Camille asked, "Mademoiselle Kitty Pryde..."
"I do." Lance replied, "But even that's a challenge unto itself. Both of us have team mates that are against our relationship and in Kitty's case there are a few people on her team that try to disrupt our relationship at every opportunity by introducing my rival into things."
"So, what exactly does training here entail?" Camille asked.
"It's not all military and physical training, the Joes have an interest in continuing our educations..." Lance began, "We take the typical classes of the average high school student."
"Each of us here on base has some sort of specialty in some practical skill, a foreign language, or some art or science." Demerest explained.
"What's next on the agenda?" Camille asked.
"Well the kids are going to get cleaned up, and the next thing we're going to do is have lunch." Demerest replied, "And next you'll be observing one of their classes."
The French cameraman had already packed away most of his equipment when Cover Girl tapped Demerest on the shoulder, "Hey, Nate, I need to get ready for the kids' English lesson, hold down the fort for me?"
"Alright." Demerest replied.
"So, Monsieur Demerest, can you tell me a little about yourself?" Camille asked.
"Certainly." Demerest replied.
"You are British?" Camille asked.
"I am." Demerest nodded.
"I thought GI Joe is an American unit?" Camille asked.
"It is, but we do recruit people from other nations. Particularly those that we have the personnel exchange program with." Demerest replied, "The UK is one of them."
"So what exactly do you do in the military?" Camille asked.
"Is this going to be on film?" Demerest asked.
"No, this is just out of curiosity." Camille replied.
"Well in that case, I'm a member of Her Majesty's Special Air Service." Demerest replied.
"How long have you been in the service?" Camille asked.
"I joined the British Army, the Territorial Army, 21 SAS, at the age of sixteen..." Demerest replied.
"The Territorial SAS?" Camille asked, her English was fluent, her accent making her voice seem melodious, almost as if she were singing.
"The Territorial Army is the UK's military reserve." Demerest replied, "So what about you, why journalism?"
"Forgive me, monsieur, you caught me off guard, I'm used to asking questions not really answering them." Camille replied, "I've always had a desire to seek the truth about anything. I never trusted things I heard on general principle. I always had to find out for myself. Journalism seemed to be the natural choice. And why the army?"
"I was a smart kid in school," Demerest replied, "In fact I went to a boarding school in Bristol, one of the better ones in the UK. I guess you could chalk it up to the fact that I was bored with school, it didn't present a challenge to me."
"I've heard of the SAS, and I've also heard the term Selection, what does that mean." Camille asked.
They were walking down the pathway, shaded by trees and shrubs, courtesy of Psyche Out's green thumb program. The idea was to beautify the Pit, make it seem less intimidating. Towards that end, several gazebos, tree lined walkways, and lawns were placed all about the place.
"Selection first starts with about three weeks in the Brecon Beacons, the Welsh countryside. It consists of a lot of long range endurance marches and running through the hills with upwards of fifty pounds of gear. Then it consists of continuation training for a week, then about a month in Malaya at the British Army Jungle Warfare School, and then three weeks of Escape and Evasion training." Demerest replied.
"Is it different for the Territorial SAS?" Camille asked.
"Yes, it's longer, because our Selection is held on weekends and one night a week." Demerest replied, "But that doesn't mean it's any less demanding physically. If anything else you'd best have the self discipline to keep yourself in good shape or you've failed.
The two sat down to lunch and Camille asked, "What do you think of the Misfits?"
"They're a great bunch of lads, despite their backgrounds." Demerest replied, "Many of them are orphans, or abandoned by the parents, which amounts to the same thing. We're the closest thing to a family that these kids have had."
"So how long have you been here?" Camille asked.
"Roughly about a month." Demerest replied. Lunch passed by uneventfully, and the news crew headed toward the school house in the small corner of the base where the Misfits lived.
"Class, we have a visitor." Cover Girl began, "Miss Leclair, of Channel 7 news, Paris."
"Are we on camera?" Toad asked.
"Well duh, it's a TV news crew." Pietro replied, "Of course we'll be on camera."
All the older Misfits were in the school room. Shipwreck was taking care of the babies and Trinity was off training with the Blind Master. "Look sharp guys, here she comes." Cover Girl said.
Camille entered the room, the cameraman standing at a distance, with Demerest standing nearby. "What subject is this?"
"I was about to teach literature today." Cover Girl said, "We're covering Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea."
"Ah, one of the fathers of modern science fiction." Camille began, "France's contribution to that genre of literature."
"What other subjects do you usually study here?" Camille asked.
"It can vary," Cover Girl said, "Airtight teaches them math and science. Bree and Lifeline teach them basic first aid. I teach them English, not really my specialty, and auto repair. Roadblock teaches home economics. The Blind Master and Stormshadow teach them various mental disciplines."
"What of you, monsieur Demerest?" Camille asked.
"I'm taking over teaching English and foreign languages for interested parties." Demerest asked, "I'm already teaching and improving Arcade's German."
The lesson began and Fred raised his hand, "Was it just revenge that Captain Nemo was motivated by? Because it seems he was also driven by an inferiority complex and an overcompensating personality..."
"Oh spare us Blob." Pietro remarked, "You've been reading those psychology books too long."
"Pietro, you and Captain Nemo do have a few similarities..." Fred began.
"I have nothing in common with that seafaring lunatic!" Pietro snapped.
"I don't know Pietro, due to your Daddy issues and the fact that Magneto never deemed you as 'good enough' created in you an inferiority complex..." Blob began.
"Magneto is your father?" Camille asked Pietro.
"WHAT FATHER! I HAVE NO FATHER..." Pietro began.
"So how did you find this talent for psychological analysis?" Camille asked.
"Don't encourage him, please..." Lance whispered under his breath.
"And also, Pietro, you adjust to having such a bad father by over compensating." Fred continued, "By having such a massive ego, by annoying and insulting others, you are overcompensating. You need a hug..."
"WHAT!? I'm NOT suffering from whatever it is you say I'm suffering from!" Pietro replied.
"Group hug!" Fred shouted.
"AGGH! NO! SAVE ME! HEEELLLPPP!" Pietro shouted, as Fred and all the other Misfits practically piled on top of him.
"The Misfits are not simply a military unit." Camille began, turning towards the camera, "They are also a family, a close knit community..."
"Let go off me you lummox! I need air..." Pietro said.
Camille signed off and the cameraman packed up his equipment. She and her camera man drove back to their hotel to get some much needed rest.
A few hours later, Camille lay in the bathtub of her hotel room. Thoughts were bouncing around inside her head as she soaked in the hot water. As bizarre as their behavior was, she could see that the Misfits were a family. And as crazy as some of the members of the GI Joe team were, they genuinely cared for the Misfits as their own children.
She drained the bathtub and dried herself with a towel. Walking into the small bedroom, she put on a powder blue night shirt that terminated three quarters of the way down from her thigh. An odd group, these Misfits were, but they seemed better than the X-men, who denied to be interviewed many times. The Misfits, at least, agreed with the idea of being interviewed.
Camille remembered why she believed that mutants should be given a fair chance. In Paris, when she had just become a journalist, she covered a story where the French police arrested a gang of young men that had beaten a teenaged mutant to death with lengths of pipe and crowbars.
She'd almost vomited when she saw the child, barely thirteen or fourteen, the only discernibly mutant feature being the pair of bat-like wings on its back. The poor thing's face had been black and blue with bruises and cuts, a cheek bone had been smashed in. The bones in the wings and arms had been broken. The child had died of massive head trauma, and the three youths responsible for this beating were arrested. She believed in the idea of painting mutants in a positive light. They were not monsters, or devil children as some believed them to be, they were people like any human being. Camille yawned, stretched, and curled up underneath the covers and settled into a peaceful sleep.
TBC (Up Next: Documenting a day in the Delgato family life...)