It was one twenty-five in the morning when Danny was woken by the faint echo of laughter.
The master bedroom was dark, lit only by the red lights of his clock, and the faint wisps of the streetlamp peeking through the blinds.
For several moments, he laid still, ears straining to hear the sound that had awoken him.
It had been such a long time since he'd heard that sound, so long that he'd all but forgotten it.
… There. A whisper on the still air. Taylor's voice, coming from downstairs.
Danny felt a thrill of relief coupled with abject fear, if he went downstairs to find his daughter, seeking for a reason why she was up, what state would he find her in? The laughter gave him hope, but not enough for him to submerge his worry.
After everything that had happened, hearing Taylor laugh was a boon to his soul, a glimmer of light in the dark days that had followed both Annette's death, the apparent start of the bullying, and the Winslow Incident.
It had another effect however, the laughter drew up old memories, of better times long past. Times of smiles and play, of family and friendship. Something that the Hebert household had been missing for quite some time.
And suddenly Danny was angry.
At Taylor, for making him worry. At the city; a smoldering resentment towards everyone, from the Mayor, all the way down to the teachers at Winslow, for letting the city fall apart and for letting his little girl get hurt under their watch.
He hated the girls that preyed on his daughter, the lack of attention from the school that allowed them to get away with it. He felt rage towards the PRT, for not keeping their Ward under control, for not keeping enough eyes on her and letting this all happen.
Hatred towards all of it, for draining the light from his home.
Underlying it all was frustration with himself.
Danny Hebert was the one person he could control in all of this, and Danny Hebert had failed to do anything that mattered; He hadn't gotten answers, hadn't stopped the bullies, hadn't protected his daughter.
It was to his eternal shame that he had to stop himself from getting up, going downstairs, and confront his daughter, from shouting at her and demanding answers to the questions that lurked in his mind.
What was she doing? Why was she up this late? Who was she talking to? Why was she hiding this from him?
Why did she hide the bullying from him?
However, he knew that by confronting her over these things, and by extension, getting angry at her over the situation that he has no control over, he would do more harm than good, and would end up threatening to sever any bond of trust they had reforged between them.
Even if, more than anything, that was what he wanted. Finding out what had really happened after days of waiting had been a shot to the gut that she hadn't felt since he'd lost Annette.
She had told him, however, in every way except articulating it aloud back in her hospital bed, weeks ago, that she didn't want to speak of it. She had pleaded with him, with body language and averted eye contact, unfinished sentences and things left unsaid, not to ask, not to push, when it came to that had happened at the school. He couldn't say why, exactly, but he did have ideas, several in fact.
So he ran his fingers through his hair and laid back down, ears straining to hear past the old house steadying in the night, and stared at his closed bedroom door in the dark.
Home was an escape from it all, he suspected, and if he recognized the bullying, made it a reality at home, maybe she wouldn't have that relief from it. Perhaps it was shame, that his daughter didn't want him to see her like that, didn't want to be that weak in front of him. He hoped that wasn't the case.
For the fiftieth time, he felt the urge to ask his wife for help, for advice, for support, but her side of the bed was empty, and it had been for some time. Daily, it seemed, he was struck by the urge to call her cell phone, to turn to her for advice.
He knew it was stupid, she wouldn't pick up, and if he dwelt on that for too long, he became angry at her, which just made him feel worse.
Danny ran his hands through his hair again, which was thinned enough at the top to be closer to baldness than not; from stress more than age he hoped. Theories, it was all he had in the days following the Incident; the little things he looked back on.
Emma not coming around anymore, the lack of Taylor interacting with him about school, her general glumness, the space that was forming between them, more than the loss of Annette could make.
It added up slowly, tiny details he missed, or just didn't want to see, lost as he was himself.
Annette would have had his head for that, for not seeing it happen, for not doing more.
The fact that this all happened because she wasn't around to do just that wasn't lost on Danny either.
In the end, Danny had found that he was right in January, when his Taylor had been pushed hard enough to Trigger as the PRT had called it, destroying her school and, in no doubt the eyes of others and more importantly herself, causing hundreds of deaths as a consequence.
No matter what anyone would say to her, Danny knew that Taylor blamed herself. It was in how she held herself, how she talked to him, how she walked around people, as if just being near her meant that everyone was in danger.
Hearing that something had happened to her school was one of the worst days of his life, just barely rising over getting the call about Annette. If he had lost Taylor as well, the last piece of Annette he had left…
It was just the two of them now, and he was a failure of a father if she died as well.
The whole situation just made Danny want to reach out and hit something, a trait he had gotten from his own father.
Danny's father had been a powerful, heavyset man, Danny hadn't gotten any of those genes. Instead, Danny ended up being stick thin and awkward, short-sighted with glasses and bad fashion sense; A nerd when the term was still young in popular culture.
What he had inherited was his father's famous temper, quick to rise and startling in its intensity. Like his father before him, he could and would go off on tirades that would leave people shaking. However, it was only in his younger years that Danny had ever hit someone in anger, even then it was only twice.
Danny had long viewed the moment he'd started to see himself as a man, an adult, to be the point in time where he had sworn to himself that he wouldn't ever lose his temper with his family.
He would not pass that on to Taylor the way his father had to him.
That Oath was never broken with Taylor, he'd never screamed at her, never got angry with her, but he knew Taylor had seen him angry.
The first time, he had been at work, talking to a mayor's aide about the revival projects for the Docks. Instead of new jobs, however, he had been told that there was going to be layoffs to already beleaguered Dockworkers.
Taylor had been present in his office that morning, they had had plans to go out later in the afternoon, so she was in the perfect position to see him fly off the handle in the worst way.
The second time had been four years ago. He had lost his temper with Annette for the first time, breaking his oath to himself. Taylor hadn't been there to see him shouting at her mother, but he was fairly certain she'd heard some of it.
That had been the last time he had seen Annette.
The third time was at the hospital following the Incident; At least there he felt justified in his anger. Armsmaster had shown up and had explained what had really happened, about Emma and Sophia bulling his little girl. All the details came out; about the failure of the teachers and the school district, about that girl Sophia being a Ward, about how it all meshed together in a set of separate circumstances that 'snowballed' into Taylor getting shoved into a locker like a can of tuna, with no one doing a damn thing to stop it.
It was to his shame that he had sent the hero running from the room, but Taylor was in the room as well, and was wide-eyed in reaction.
He almost found it funny, he had managed to keep his calm over the PRT officers talking to him, he was calm during the meetings he had with the school officials about Winslow, and yet when someone had actually stopped and took the time to tell him the truth, he flipped out at them.
It was because of this that Danny harbored a deep fear that the reason Taylor had not offered any details on the bullying was out of fear he would, in a blind rage, do something about it. It made him feel sick, the notion that he might have contributed something to his daughter's self-imposed isolation in how she was dealing with her problems.
It took Danny time to calm down, helped by telling himself over and over that Taylor was okay, that she was home, that she was safe, that he was going to be better, a better father, one that was there for her. It was something of a blessing that, as the anger faded, it took his energy with it, and he laid back down on the bed.
He resolved that he would talk to Taylor in the morning, get an answer of some sort, try to restore trust, to bridge the gap between them.
Leaving the right side empty out of a habit he'd yet to break, Danny pulled the covers back up around himself.
He dreamed of lilting music.
Taylor's bed was unmade when Danny checked her room in the morning.
It wasn't the type of unmade that said that she had just gotten up however, Annette had managed to get both Taylor and him to at least put the blankets back in place when they had gotten up; this was the type that said that she hadn't been back to her room during the night.
There were several heart-pounding moments as Danny all but raced down the stairs, only to find Taylor, awake and well, sitting in the living room.
Surrounded by boxes.
Danny's heart nearly stopped, for he recognized these boxes; they should have been the basement, where he had put them last.
Back when his wife had died.
Taylor stared at him, wide-eyed, curled up on the couch, the contents of several opened boxes next to her, a familiar book in her hands.
Danny stared back as buried memories surfaced from the sight of that book.
"… you won a bowling tournament?" Taylor asked, breaking the reign of silence that had fallen over the pair.
"That… I…" Danny took a breath, shuttering. "It was before your time, before…."
Words, yes, Danny realized that he needed to use his words to avoid shutting down.
"I had… during collage I… you know, it's actually a bit of a story," Danny managed to get out.
Somehow, Danny managed to make his way to the couch and sit down beside Taylor. The book she was holding was open to a page he recognized; a younger Danny, surrounded by a few of his college friends, holding a trophy high with a smile. Several other similar photos surrounded it, including one were one of his friends had apparently managed to drop the trophy mid-picture take…
"It… it was before I met your mother, the early years. In fact," Danny managed to let a chuckle out. "One of the reasons we'd even started bowling was because there was a women's club, one that had several members of the college in it."
"Oh, not your mother," Danny clarified after seeing Taylor's questioning face. "These… it was before I met your mother."
Taylor's only response was a 'look' and a raised eyebrow.
"… I was younger, ok?" her father defended.
Danny felt his mouth twitch, and Taylor seemed to be fighting a small smile as well.
"Ah, yeah, it actually was some of the other guy's ideas. They wanted to do something for the group, and bowling was easy enough for all to do. Plus, there was beer and… girls."
Both of them were grinning a bit at this point, because… it was just ridiculous. Here they were, sitting in their living room, surrounded by the fragments of someone's ghost, and Danny was making excuses for being a normal human.
Although Danny had more than a hint of embarrassment in his years, his previous attempts at a love life was not something that he thought he'd be talking about today.
And to his daughter of all people.
And yet…
"… I wasn't really that good at first," Danny continued. "But… after a few months, I, as well as most of the guys, were good enough that we tried our hand at the tournament."
And yet… this was his history, and Taylor was curious. This was something that they could bond over, sharing his past, even if there were some embarrassing parts.
"Even though we won, it was mostly due to the fact the two main front-runners couldn't make it for the tournament, plus a little bit of blind luck. I think the trophy ended up with Michael, maybe something about a girl?"
Danny hummed, and looked at the photobook in Taylor's arms. It was an old one and had been put together by Annette during a crafting phase using all kinds of old pictures; if Danny remembered this one book correctly, then it was mostly of his life before her meeting him.
"I ran into your mother in the parking lot," Danny explained. "As it just so happened that some of the women's club had ended up falling in with Lustrum's group, and… Annette was there one day to help pick them up."
As he spoke, Danny thought back and was suddenly there; the taste of cheap beer on his tongue, the muffled sounds of balls rolling and the arcade machines just beyond the door to his back, and the smell of pizza and burgers in the air.
"I didn't know who she was, just that I… was captivated," Danny muttered. "I want to say that I spoke to her, that we hit things off but… well, I stood there like an idiot with my mouth open."
And for the first time in a long time, Taylor laughed. The giggling sound alone wiped any thoughts of not telling the story from Danny's mind as it echoed through the house.
"Yeah well," Danny chuckled, his own grin still going strong. "From there I had another problem, I had no idea who your mother was, and was left in the awkward status of trying to ask around, which ended up exactly like you might think."
"It got even worse when I found out that she was in one of my lecture classes and had been for weeks."
Some things were fuzzy, but Danny still remembered the class; one of the business courses which Annette was taking because she was looking into getting a law degree, while Danny was studying up for a more general business course.
His first attempt at asking her out resulted in getting laughed at, if only because he tripped over his own feet. Still, one of the few good things his own father had taught him was perseverance and confidence. It had ended up being a kind of whirlwind romance, Annette had joined Lustrum because she'd believed in equality, and because she had a bit of a rebellious streak going on.
She'd never believed in what the group ended becoming, nor in the whole 'ridicule and humiliate men' thing. She was out to, 'reveal the truth about gender's,' which was that they didn't matter, as, 'it only should be what you do that defines you to others. Actions, not appearances, are what we should base each other on.'
But she had admitted once that she joined a few 'shaming' sessions before, having gotten caught up in the fever.
In the end, their relationship sped by, within a few months had seen both of them living together. Annette ended up abandoning her pursuit of getting a law degree and fell back on her secondary, English. Teaching to be precise.
"One thing led to another, and we ended up with you," Danny finished.
Between them, a new album lay, this one chronicling the years just before Taylor. It even had a few baby photos in it. Several of the boxes had been opened further, things had been pulled out of it; a report from Annette's university, a water painting that Danny remembered Annette had made when she was pregnant with Taylor, a set of rewards for her schooling days.
All things that held ties to the lost member of the Hebert family.
"This your dad?" Taylor asked, pointing to a photo. In it, a smiling, if you could call it that, Danny stood next to another man, one that shared some resemblance to him.
"Yeah," Danny remembered that day. Good old dad had managed to keep his temper in check (more like he didn't have anything to set him off), plus Annette proved to be made of stronger stuff than Mr. Hebert.
"He died when you were four, so you don't likely remember him. My mother passed a few years before that."
"… and mom's parents?"
"… Haven't heard from Gram in a long time," Danny replied. "Annette said that she was too far away for proper visits, and that she had cut ties with her long ago; the only reason you even met her was because of you. We were similar in that way, though the ghosts of her parents were more present in her actions when we first met; she was… uptight, to say the least. She had told me that her life had always been structured, that she had rarely been able to choose things for herself, outside certain things. Coming to the Bay and joining Lustrum were both one parts rebellion, one-part personal beliefs, and one part falling into old patterns, as she said anyway."
"Is that how she ended up teaching?" Taylor asked. "I remember her saying that she was looking into getting a law degree because it was something that she had felt would be a good fit for her, not something that she wanted."
"Yeah," Danny remembered that day as well. Taylors elementary school had been doing a career day, and Taylor had wanted her mother to come in, not to show off, but because she just wanted her mother to be there.
Annette didn't end up going, pointing out that a teacher going to a school wasn't much of a career day showing. This, of course, brought up Annette's own career choice, the path that she didn't take, and what she could have done.
In the end, Annette had imparted wisdom to Taylor; that she should seek out a job that she enjoyed, rather than one that felt she could do.
"Your mother once lamented that she didn't keep up with her law studies during the worker's riots, she felt that she could have done something more to help," Danny said. "But other than that, she told me that she never once regretted her decision to go into teaching."
"She was… a woman of actions," Danny continued. "Decisive actions. The way her mind worked could, and did, leave me in the dust, but there were still times that left me wondering about her. Sometimes… sometimes she would have a thought or an idea, and she would just… leave me behind. Sometimes it had a point, other times…She actually was the one that wanted the truck, said that we needed something for moving things around, like furniture or if I needed it for the DWA. I never did, and truth be told, I just think Annette wanted a truck."
Danny paused for a moment, before turning and looking into one of the nearby boxes. "… I think that some of her notebooks are in here. She had kept something of a journal going, a stream-of-consciousness type of thing, it was her way of keeping up with her own head, keeping me in the loop of the things she wanted to do."
Taylor frowned. "Mom kept a journal?"
"She stopped around the same time that you started walking," Danny said. "Said that she didn't need it any more… now that she had something more important to keep track of."
Danny continued to look over several of the boxes for a moment, even going as far as to get up and check one of the ones off to the side, before he returned to the couch.
"They must still be in the boxes downstairs," he said as he settled down. "We can… take a look…"
"… I noticed that a few had her college books in them," Taylor said to break the silence that overcame the pair. "I also found a few letters, from what I guess were her students?"
"Yeah, your mother… she was good to her students. Helpful."
Taylor hummed, carefully reached into a nearby box mostly filled with pictures. "I never knew much about her work… other than the obvious."
"Brockton Bay Community College was lucky to have her that's for sure," Danny supplied. "She had gotten several offers from Boston about a teaching position, even one from New York! In the end, however, she decided to stay here; although she did do guest classes at other colleges from time to time, those classes would keep her out of the house for days, if not a week, sometimes even over a week. The money was nice, but still… I didn't like how every few months she would up and leave."
"I remember a bit of that," Taylor said. "But it was years ago, right?"
Danny nodded, his eyes drifting over another book; a teacher's English reference. "It was mostly during your pre-teen years, she rarely did it during your baby and toddler days."
"… she would bring me postcards, and other gifts," said Taylor, running her hands over a watercolor picture of a fractured moon.
"I remember now; you would take me to work sometimes, after picking me up school," murmured Taylor. "I would do homework with Ms. Kelly, sharing her desk with her." Taylor smiled for a moment. "She had candy in her bottom drawer."
"… I can't say that your mother enjoyed having to leave for those jobs," Danny admitted. "She was always ecstatic to come home after all, and hated to have to leave you."
The pair had to smile, as memories of the missing member of the Herbert household came to them.
"She kept in touch with a few," Taylor supplied suddenly. "From the looks of things; a number of these letters are from a group of the same people."
"Really?" Danny frowned; he hadn't known about that. About the letters sure, but not about the fact that were mostly from the same people.
Taylor nodded. "One of them is even in French. Here, take a look."
The paper that his daughter handed to him was still crisp, likely due to the fact that it had folded up in one spot for so long. Danny didn't know much of the French language, but he had picked up a few things up.
It seemed that this letter was mostly about, from what little he understood, what was happening in this, (women's, maybe?) life. Some of it read like a pen pal, about what was going on, a thank you for the… something, it had been a while, and so on.
But it had been years since Danny had read any French, so most of what he could gather was from piecing together what words he still knew.
"A student perhaps?" Danny said aloud, before shaking his head. "Might have even been someone from her Lustrum days, likely one of the ones that had gotten out as well. There's a part were… I think she's offering up a favor? Or repaying one? Maybe asking for one? You might have better luck than me in reading this, Annette taught you more French than she did to me."
"Never really liked reading it," Taylor muttered as she took the paper back. Danny had to smile; Annette wasn't French in the slightest, but she seemed to at some point adopted the language as her second one, out of the several that she could speak. Taylor hadn't shared her enthusiasm, at least with its written form, she had loved to hear Annette speak the language, however.
… it had been Emma that could read and write it easily.
"Sounds like mom helped this 'Kuzu' with something, whoever that is," Taylor said after a moment. "And to let her know if… 'Kenta,' gives her any trouble. Family member maybe? One that was going to her class as well?" Taylor shrugged. "It's strange that they aren't French names though when they're writing in the language…"
"Maybe they spoke French as a second language, like Annette did," suggested Danny. "Just because they don't have French names doesn't mean that they didn't know the language. Maybe it was something that they and Annette shared, and they just wanted to write that way?"
Taylor nodded absently, still reading, before glancing over the other sets of letters and asking, "Did you know about this? It seems like… they talked often. They knew each other, enough so that they asked for favors."
"… Not really," Danny answered. He didn't really, not all of it. Even married people kept some secrets from each other, some sense of personal space and privacy was a healthy part of any relationship.
Though there were some things that he wished he'd asked about now.
"Your mother could never seem to say no when others needed help though," Danny continued. "At least, when they were being reasonable. The colleges that asked for her to come in and cover always seemed to be quite reasonable, to say nothing of the students she grew attached to. She did like to keep her work and home life separate, so I'm surprised that you found any letters in the first place. I do know that she got them a lot; at least once a week, if not more, the college forwarded mail to us, always from grateful students she'd helped out."
"She was always willing to answer my questions," Taylor said with a smile. "I remember that for sure. I also remember you asking for her help whenever I really got going," Taylor finished with a grin at her father.
Danny had to laugh. "Part of that had to deal with your mother encouraging you; there were days that you never stopped. I think that she enjoyed you asking questions, she once told me that…" Danny paused for a moment, his voice thick, as he was just suddenly hit with memories of his wife. "… She wasn't going to hold you back from anything, to force you into something that you didn't want or make you into something you were not; she wanted you to have a better life than the one she was given, to dream of better things than of what others told you that you had to do."
During Danny's talk, Taylor became slightly more withdrawn, distant. So, he waited after he finished; he knew better than to push on these sorts of things.
"… What… what would mom think of all of this?" she asked quietly.
Ah… a question that Danny himself wondered, and one for the life of him could never get a satisfactory answer for; not to say that he couldn't make a good guess after living with the woman for years, so he knew how Annette would react to these events, even some of what she would do.
But for what she would make of all of it?
"… To be honest Taylor… I don't know if, one way or another, the PRT would be still in the city after your mother was done with them. She would not have let what happened to you stand; same went for that Hess girl, your mother would have buried her. She still kept in contact with a few friends from her Lustrum days, the less… crazy isn't the right word given the circumstances, but… the good ones, the ones that wanted things to be better, she still knew some of them. And through them…"
Danny smiled sadly, then frowned as his own thoughts sank in. "Yeah, if your mother was still around, there would have been a reckoning. She might have even pulled the DWA into it."
"She would have, huh?" Taylor… the only way that Danny could describe his daughter as she spoke, was parroted. And that made him uneasy; he knew her, something just had crossed her mind.
Hopefully, she would talk about it and not hold it in, Danny felt like they were… making progress, despite the subject matter; despite the fact that they weren't really speaking about what they really needed to talk about.
"… what would she have done about Emma?"
And there it was. At least this one he knew the answer for.
"She…"
And that wasn't a good thing.
"She never would have let it go this far. You never would have hidden this from her." And wasn't that a dig that made Taylor flinch. "She would have found out, and then gone straight over to the Barnes and demanded to know what was going on. Things… they might not have been fixed perfectly, but… you two would at least still have been friends."
Taylor nodded absently, then set the picture away, picking up a new one that Danny actually recognized. Annette had painted it, modeled it after Starry Night, a Van Gogh painting.
Figures traced over the painting, taking in the swirls of color, the new newborn star from whence it came from; or a dying one, as it was blue. Danny never could figure it out.
"… I should have done more, about Emma," Taylor said finally.
"Taylor…" Danny began. "What Emma did to you… it wasn't your fault. You did… it was the cities fault, and the PRT, for not keeping an eye on things when they should have. You shouldn't have to do anything about her, it should have never happened in the first place."
"No, it's not… the… this is…" Taylor paused, her eyes misty "It's not about, the school, the PRT, or hell, even about Sophia, it's about me. I should have done more… I just…" Taylor took a shacking breath.
"Emma made her choice, she choose to… It's not that I feel… It isn't on me, yet… in a way, I could have stopped this."
Danny waited; his chest tight. Taylor hadn't ever covered more than she needed too about the bullying, with him hearing more at the PRT meeting than he'd ever gotten out of her.
"… She made her choice," Taylor continued. "But so did I."
"… I chose inaction."
Taylor gazed up at Danny, eyes almost, but not quite, in tears. "She was my friend dad," Taylor got out, her voice cracking. "And when mom… when mom died, she was there for me."
"… but I wasn't there for her."
"I know, I know, it's stupid… but she was my friend, practically my sister. And when she started to… why didn't I do something? Why did I just take it? …Her parents… why didn't I go to her house, and demand what was going on? I knew her, she never would have… they didn't know dad, I know that not a excuse, but… none of this would have happened if… they didn't know."
"… is this what it's like dad?" Taylor asked through her tears. "To be an adult? To… see things in hindsight? All the… mistakes, that you made? All the things you could have done?"
Danny hesitated, thinking. On one hand, this was his daughter; the one that he wanted the best for, no matter the cost. He would give his life for her, support her no matter the decision, and held her happiness in the upmost priority.
On the other hand, this was his daughter, and he hated to lie to her.
"…Yeah, it's part of it," Danny admitted. "You learn new things, old things are left in the past, you grow, your tastes change, your experiences change you… and you make mistakes. The important thing is not to make those same mistakes again, and to learn from them."
Taylor nodded… then glanced away.
"… None of this would have happened if I had done something."
Danny all but crushed his daughter to his chest in a hug as she broke down.
… there had only been a few times that Danny had experienced this; the first time had been years ago, something had happened between Taylor and Emma that had split the two of them up nearly two weeks and both Danny and his wife had to console Taylor.
It was one of the few times that he'd never even seen Taylor cry. Not that she'd never cried before, but there was a fundamental difference between crying because you fell off a bike, and crying because you thought that your best friend had just kicked you out of her house because you had broken one of her new toys.
The next time was at his wife's funeral, and to say that was a trying day would be an understatement.
Here, it was the old catch twenty-two; Danny didn't want his daughter to suffer any more than she had, but at the same time… he knew that hiding her away from the world would do more harm than good.
No matter what he did, he couldn't change what had happened; he couldn't go and beat up Alan for what Emma had done, that would only make him feel better for a short while. Same went with the PRT and the city; lashing out at the ones that let this happen to his daughter would do no good.
So he held on to her as she cried, the messy kind, were his shirt got soaked and every drop tugged hard at his heart.
But Danny knew that this was something that needed to happen, for Taylor's sake. He may have been… distant, after Annette had died, but not enough to see that his little girl had changed, and not for the better.
This gave him hope, however; after all, when was the last time that Taylor had shown any other emotion other than 'bland?'
So this was a good thing, despite the fact that it gripped at his heart and tugged hard. It meant that things were moving forward.
Danny knew that they had passed a point, that following this, things would get better.
They would, he'd be damned if they didn't.
A/N: And thus the story goes on, broken pieces getting put back together again.
Which fits, as the Buff Timer is up and is now on Cooldown.
Brace yourself Kiddo, you got incoming.
And it's not the Grineer.
