Shyvana awoke to the sounds of a crowd gathering outside, to angry shouts and voices carrying through the still night air, violent orange shapes dancing upon the wall from the streets below, shining through the dusty window panes. The dragoness sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she groaned, looking out at the sky, grimacing when she remembered she was still trapped deep under the city. She stumbled out of bed, moving towards the window, looking out into the streets below.

Ice shot through her veins as a mob of men and women, armed with pitchforks and torches, continued to grow in the streets below. Some carried real weapons, a few swords here and there, but most carried tools and torches. Shyvana pressed her nose to the cool glass, looking left and right down the streets, for once not a single guard in sight. The crowd was growing restless, their jeering and banter growing louder as a hooded figure shouted and provoked then. Shyvana grimaced as the hooded figure looked up and back over his shoulder, a toothy grin showing beneath the hood and the beard that it hid. Shyvana doubted that the crier could see into the window, but a chill ran down her spine.

She dressed quickly, pulling on the clothes and armor she had strewn haphazardly around the room before. As she was pulling on her last gauntlet, trying to do so carefully over the wound on her hand, there came a knock at the door. It wasn't a polite knock though, it was an angry banging. Shouts and murmurs came from the hallway beyond, and Shyvana heard the shuffle of several men on the opposite side of the door. She growled as she strapped the gauntlet down. She picked up Jarvan's lance, holding it close in the crook of her arm as she pulled her cloak over her shoulders and fastened the Demacian pin in place.

"Open up!" The roar that came from the behind the door was definitely human, and the murmur of conversation began as Shyvana crept slowly forwards. "Break it down!"

Shyvana stepped back, holding the lance between her and the door in a ready stance, expecting the door to come tumbling down. The door flexed as a heavy thud sounded, the chair creaking as Shyvana sank back, expecting the door to buckle at any moment. Several more thuds came, but they were unable to break through the thick wood and the chair she had braced the door with.

"We can't break it down." Someone grumbled angrily. "Fine, whatever, we'll just blow it down."

Shyvana furrowed her brow, wondering where they were doing.

"Set the charges." A voice commanded, many of the voices dying away as they moved back down the hallway. Shyvana heard the sound of someone dropping something against the door, and then the sound of a flint and steel could be heard, the acrid smell of the magnesium drifting under the door.

"Charges?" Shyvana mouthed, frowning. Were they going to burn the door down?

There was some cursing from whoever was working on the far side of the door, and then the stench of gunpowder as the sound of boots thundering down the hallway told Shyvana everything she needed to know. She had heard stories of human explosives from her father, but she had only just realized what was happening. She scampered to her feet, bowling a chair over, bounding up onto the bed. She was about to dive through the glass when a massive explosion ripped her from her feet, blowing the entire window out and sending her sailing across the street. She struck the building across the street before she crashed to the ground, rolling as best she could, the smell of singed wool and hair gagging her as she tried to breath, splinters and metal shards fluttering down through the air around her. The crowd roared its approval as they surrounded her, pitchforks raised above their heads and torches waving madly about, casting angry orange light up and down the street.

"Is she alive?" Someone asked as the crowd drew near.

"Someone check!" Someone else shouted. Somewhere in the crowd, someone hefted a brick, tossing it at Shyvana. It struck her just above the right eyebrow, leaving a deep gash that began to bleed. Shyvana hissed, reeling and crawling backwards on her hands and knees, one hand clasped across the wound, the other around Jarvan's lance.

"Get her!" Someone cried, pointed fingers all closing on her. The crowd surged forward, Shyvana twisting her body as she raised Jarvan's lance and levered it about, sweeping the front of the crowd off their feet. The crowd descended into madness as they tumbled over those already on the ground, the back of the crowd shoving forward and only causing trouble. Shyvana hefted the lance onto her shoulder and scampered down the alleyway, stumbling as she did, blinking to try and clear her vision, blood dripping down her brow into her eye. It didn't help her already blurry vision from where she had been struck.

"After her!" Someone shouted. "Don't let her escape!" Shyvana rounded a corner, skidding to a stop as she nearly ran face first into a stone wall. As the voices grew closer, Shyvana turned, looking to escape down the opposite way, but armed men had already blocked her path. Shyvana frowned as the men drew nearer to her, weapons drawn, daggers and short blades held at the ready. Shyvana backed up towards the corner of the alleyway, a frown on her face, the eerie lantern light only making things seem that much more ominous. Shyvana growled, a frown on her face as she felt her boot strike the bricks behind her.

"Don't worry, you little hussy." One of the men hissed, "We brought back up this time. Bind her!" A cloaked figure stepped out of the wall of men, the archaic runes on his arm a sign that he was a sorcerer. Shyvana braced, her hand still fidgeting with the lance. She backed further into the corner, but she was trapped. The lance exploded, propelling her straight up, nearly jerking her arms from their sockets, the lance sending her high into the air. She yelped as she found herself seemingly floating in air, the sensation of weightlessness more than enough to leave her giddy.

She began to sink back to the earth though and she scrambled for the edge of a building. She managed to grab a hold of an overhanging roof, but the aging tile cracked and collapsed under her weight, sending her back to the ground, crashing to where she had just been.

"That was impressive!" Someone shouted from behind the group, the mob filtering through the alleyway towards her, the commotion drawing them in. Shyvana pulled herself to her feet, slowly this time, growling and sinking back into a defensive position as the mob pressed in towards her.

"Bind her properly, you useless mage!" A voice cried, the sorcerer flipping through his tome. Shyvana formed a ball of fire in her hand, throwing it out at the sorcerer, his book crumbling into ashes and falling to the ground. His jaw hung open and many of the people backed away, giving Shyvana distance as she let flames cloak her legs. Shyvana leap upwards, grabbing a beam that jutted out of the building, riding a wall of flames as she used the heat to give her jump just a little more distance. She landed on all fours and scrambled forwards, dodging a binding as it exploded on the ground behind her, a magical rune marking the ground where it had struck. Shyvana sprinted into the street, running as fast as she could, a cloak of flames shrouding her feet as she sped along the mostly deserted thoroughfare. She leap over a cart as it trundled through an intersection, the men following her shouting at the driver as they ran around the cart, some of them nearly crushed by the horses as they did.

Shyvana turned a corner, pressing her back against the wall as the mob began to grow in the streets. She breathed deeply, her heart racing, the entire city chasing after her as she caught her breath. She stuck her head out as the mob surged forward towards her almost instantly.

"There it is! The she-dragon!" Someone shouted. Shyvana paused, moving swiftly, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and the mob. She wasn't able to though. The mob was now armed with daggers, swords, pitchforks, torches and other weapons, and while Shyvana could have easily killed many of them as a dragon, she would eventually be overwhelmed and either captured or slain. The darkened ceiling above also kept her trapped, unable to spread her wings even if she did transform. Shyvana wasn't used to fighting as a dragon, it was still something new to her. Her father had advocated peace towards humans; obviously he had never come to this city before.

"What do they want?" Shyvana hissed as she took off again, the mob close behind. Ahead of her, a wall of men had formed, carrying large poles and swords, ready to block her in. Shyvana simply rolled forward, letting her arm fall behind her, flames coiling around her clenched fist. She brought her fists forward violently as she struck the barrier, springing out of the roll like a cannon, flames exploding outwards as she crashed down on a wide-eyed man. The explosion echoed through the empty streets, lights flickering about the city as men and women flocked to the streets, afraid that they may be under attack. Shyvana took advantage of the confusion, disappearing into an alleyway and circling back around the biggest concentration of men. She ducked in and out of garbage bins and storage crates, stepping through water that smelled so foul she could hardly breathe. Shyvana found her path leading upwards, and she pressed on till the only thing she could hear was her own heartbeat, pounding in her ears. She emerged into the moon light, the cool night air caressing her skin, dampened by sweat, the mob and shouts of those searching for her echoing up from beneath the city.

Shyvana slumped against a wall, breathing heavily as her head pounded, her feet ached, and her entire body slowly told her just how sore she was. Conjuring all of the flame was starting to take its toll on her and she sunk to the ground, resting her head on her knees, letting the lance rest next to her. She looked at the lance over her arms as she hugged her arms close, the frigid night air chilling her to the bone. She was dripping with sweat and it was now icy against her skin. She shivered, pondering just how she had gotten the stupid weapon to work, trying to distract herself from the cold if even for a brief moment. She looked the handle over for a button, a trigger, anything that could have made the weapon work, but was frustrated to find no such thing. She cast the weapon aside in disgust, hugging her arms back close again.

"They called me a 'she-dragon'." Shyvana murmured to herself, looking at her breath as she leaned her head back against the wall. "Could word have spread so fast already?" Someone was responsible for her situation tonight, someone who knew about what she was. Her mind sunk back to that of the tracker, Quinn, and her angered outburst when Jarvan had not returned. Shyvana knew that humans held animosity towards her, she wasn't exactly a scion of a great legacy or some great herald, merely the daughter of a dragon and a peasant woman.

It hadn't been easy growing up alone with just her father, roaming about the mountains and villages just north of Mogron pass. She had learned to kill just what she needed to survive, no more, no less, and together they had lived a peaceful but lonesome life. Her father had some tomes for her to study in her free time, and he had taught her much about the history of Valoran and its wars, but deep down, Shyvana felt a baser urge calling to her. She wanted to fight, she wanted to make her own place in the world, but looking back now, over most of the last month, so much had transpired. She had felt all manner of emotion, from love to hatred. But above all else, she had felt loss and pain. Loss of her father and then Jarvan... both had been devastating. She shivered and got to her feet, picking the lance up and holding it close to her side.

"Sorry..." Shyvana spoke softly. She wanted to hate Jarvan, she wished she could stay mad at him, but deep inside she knew she couldn't. She smiled sadly, thinking back to his soft touch and nature, despite the fact he was careful to keep distant from almost everyone around him. He had let her in, and she had seen something beautiful there, a caring heart, aching over the loss of his men but also fighting to find himself.

"What a fool I must be," Shyvana said softly, "To fall for such a fool of a man." She let her head hang back, staring at the clouds as they rolled over the moon. "But I would do it all over again if I could." She whispered to herself, holding the lance close, her hand upon the pin she wore on her neck. She nodded to herself, smile at the good memories, but trying to not stray from the bad.

"To Demacia." She said quietly. "I will head to Demacia and carry on his wishes." Shyvana's thoughts strayed to those who had taken her father and Jarvan from her. She clenched her fist, frowning at the thought of them going forth without retribution.

"Going somewhere?" The voice was a deep bass rumble, more of a beast's growl than that of a human. Shyvana ducked and dove to the side, the clawed swipe cutting through the hem of her cloak as she jumped away, her boots sliding on the surface of the cobblestone. Stone and rubble and dust crashed over her, massive claws marks left in the wall she had just been sitting against.

"W-who are you!?" Shyvana demanded, raising the lance to point it at the hulking figure as it rose up out of the shadows.

"Your worst nightmare!" It barked, laughing maniacally.

Shyvana growled back at him, sinking into a low fighting stance, holding the lance directly pointed at the beast's throat. "Leave me be!" She shouted, stepping forward as menacingly as possible. "My quarrel is not with you!"

"Your quarrel is not with me, but my client." The voice said with a gruff chuckle. "Surely there is something that makes you special? Or are you just a little girl with a bad temper?"

"Bite me!" Shyvana snarled, letting her anger contort her expression. Her horns crept forth from her skull, her as scales began to show on her skin, her teeth elongating into fangs as she reared her head back. She inhaled deeply, blowing out a wall of flame at the creature, not willing to play his games.

"Only if I must." He stepped away from the wall of flames with a wild grin, tossing his cloak up into the air to shield himself, letting the flames consume the garment as he ducked away. He skidded to a halt on two legs and an arm, his other arm raised back to balance himself. "Half dragon?" He grinned, baring long yellow fangs of his own, drool dripping from his long snout. Dark fur covered his entire body, powerful muscles causing the fur to ripple as he stood on his hind legs. Golden claws covered his hands, massive sharpened blades tipping each finger. The armor extended up his arms and ended in decorative pauldrons, each sporting three vicious looking spikes. He had loose armor that he wore across his chest, and a gold decorated loincloth that wrapped about his waist. A massive tail swung back and forth behind him, bright red eyes glowing against the darkness of the night.

"And you. A wolf?" Shyvana said, stepping nervously back.

"You can call me Warwick." The wolfman growled, licking his chops. "Be forewarned, my bite won't be love nips, little girl." He grinned wildly again, revealing his huge array of spiked teeth. "You might just lose an arm!" He howled as he launched himself forward, lashing out at Shyvana. His claws struck the lance and sent it flying from her grasp, ripping it away. He swiped with his left hand, looking to gash her throat, but Shyvana had retreated just outside his reach.

"What do you want with me!?" Shyvana shouted, raising her hands up defensively.

"I do not have business with you!" The hunter snarled, pawing at the ground with one clawed hand, a wild look in his eye as the plated claws cut deep grooves in the cobblestones. "Rather, you ARE my business!" He lunged again, trying to maul her with his claws. Shyvana stumbled backwards, trying to dodge his strike, tumbling over the edge of a culvert splashing down into one of the tributaries that led to the river that flowed through the city. Shyvana gasped for breath, the water just deep enough that her toes brushed the bottom. She splashed about, doing her best to stay afloat, the heavy armor dragging her down, the current drawing her further down the canal. Warwick dropped to the ground beside the narrow waterway.

"Surely you can swim." He laughed with a malicious grin. Shyvana disappeared beneath the surface, bubbles blowing out of her mouth as she struggled with the leather straps, trying to rip them off. She surfaced for just a bare second, finally ripping the heavy chest plate off. She kicked the grieves off as well, doing her best to stay afloat. She bobbed to the surface, treading water roughly as she dipped below yet again. Warwick waited for her to surface, but when the bubbles stopped, he frowned.

"Of all the stupid luck." He grumbled, scratching behind his ear with a claw, shaking his head.

Warwick sighed, running towards her along the river, diving into the water and paddling along, ducking under the water. He grabbed her armored vambrace in his mouth, pulling her out of the water. He scrambled onto the walkway, pulling her out of the water by her arm. The dragoness was drenched, water running off her as Warwick sighed, shaking her about. She coughed a few times, water spewing from her throat, the stream of blood on her brow dripping yet again. Warwick sighed again. He shook the water from his coat, grumbling.

"What a disappointment." He growled, tossing Shyvana against the wall like a ragdoll. She struck hard, collapsing to the ground, out cold. "I was expecting more of a fight from his one." He frowned as he looked over her, the scales and horns now gone, only a sopping wet girl remaining. Warwick tossed her over his shoulder and shrugged, leaping up from the culvert to the street. He looked cautiously along the street, waiting a few moments for a reaction, but when nothing came, he pulled himself over the edge. He paused, and picked up the lance that the girl had carried. He tossed that over his shoulder as well. He looked about, and finding a cart pushed up against a wall, he sprinted forth, both burdens weighing on him as he vaulted the cart and then the wall. He leapt forward onto the roof of the house, looking out of the city. Off in the distance, fires raged and the sound of a frenzy brewed.

"What a hell of a night." Warwick growled, taking off towards The Pit.

Darius watched the city toss and turn through the night, letting it whip itself up into a frenzy, many men and women furious over the upset from the day before, many still looking for any reason to riot as they boiled up from the underbelly where the commotion had all started. Parts of the city were on fire, and the guard was out in full force now trying to control what was a full on battle in the streets. Reports had slowly been filing in about casualties but there were no deaths yet to really worry about. Some men had been beaten within a few inches of their lives, and a few shops were pillaged, but that was the worst of it. Noxians were a hearty people used to fighting, but they were also a blood thirsty populace. They would only calm if forced to by the guard or if they wore themselves out.

Darius didn't want to start a war with his own people, so he had his guardsman on containment orders, trying to keep the rioting from spreading too far. They had done well enough, but the jail cells would be full by morning. He grimaced. The coin earned through bail would only serve to line the pockets of the many aristocrats and the black hole that was Noxian politics.

Boram Darkwill ruled the city as Grand General with an even fist, fair to judge but also swift with retribution. Darius had no quarrel with the fat general, rather his son was the problematic one. Keiran had a fondness for fighting and screwing, two things that could get one into trouble if you weren't careful. On multiple occasions he had slept with the wrong lady, and ended up on the wrong side of another Noxian general or political official. He was deceptively good with his sword though, Darius had to give him that. He was a famed duelist, and what situations his fathers didn't pay for him to get out of, Kieran could usually duel or fight his way free. Darius had a grudging respect for him, but he also thought he was a sloven pig that did nothing but line his pockets by reaping the people's hard work.

Darius' pondering was interrupted by movement below his perch on the edge of the grandstands. He watched with interest as a trade began below, recognizing the manhunter, Warwick from his silhouette alone. The wolfman stood out in a crowd, you know, with the fur and pointed ears and all. Darius frowned, watching the manhunter offload his cargo of a human girl and a long weapon. Darius blinked several times, trying to get a better view of the girl, sighing when he recognized her.

"So that's what this is all about." Darius groaned, watching as his younger brother removed his hood, a few men emerging from the archways of the building to carry her away. One man struggled with the lance for a few moments, before finally another came to help him. Darius frowned, watching the men struggle with the lance. He remembered the half-beast girl as strong, but surely the lance she carried with ease couldn't be that heavy. He grunted, hauling himself to his feet. Swain had been right to expect trouble with Draven, there almost always was. Darius sighed, running a hand through his hair, cracking his neck. He mounted the wall, descending down towards the walkway below and from there, into the depths of The Pit.

"Orders sir?" One of his lieutenants said, snapping off a salute as he fell into step with him.

"Gather your men, Lieutenant." Darius said, sighing. "And fetch a doctor."

...

"Shackle her to the table." Draven said with a grin. He rolled his neck, grinning as he did, looking forward to the night ahead. It had cost him quite a bit, but Warwick was the best manhunter in all of Noxus. He hadn't budged on the price though, and Draven had argued about it. Warwick had been adamant though, and as he had said, he turned the girl over and the lance as well.

Draven watched with pleasure as two men brought the red haired bitch in, laying her out on the table, shackling her to the table legs with heavy iron manacles. Draven rubbed his hands together, raising his hand back and striking her across the face. At the end of the room, a mage sat with his tome, chanting an incantation.

"She won't be able to use her magic." The mage said, as the air around them popped and fizzled.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Draven asked, looking around the room. "I thought there would be a bubble..."

"Null spheres silences all spell casts except for the original caster." The mage said shrugging. "She'll be helpless."

"Wake up!" Draven shouted, causing the girl to open her eyes with a start. She looked about, her hands jerking against the manacles, the binding clanking as she did. She opened her mouth to yell, but Draven struck fast, snapping her head about. "Ah, ah, ah!" Draven said, wagging his finger in front of her face. "Let's just admire me for a second." He gestured to the deep gash on one side of his face, and the black eye he still sported. "You managed to do a real number to my face... But you know what? Just watch and learn. I'll show you how to really serve up pain." He raised his hand back and brought it down hard across her face again, snapping her neck about.

She grunted, recoiling, her body clenching up as Draven cackled.

"That's right, girl, it feels good, doesn't it?" He said with a wild smile. "All the pain I felt. all the humiliation I suffered because of what you did... Draven is going to pay you back a thousand fold." He walked about the table, admiring her body for a few moments, running his hand up and down her leg, a sickening smile on his face. He finally reached the head of the table and drew one of his axes from his back, spinning it about, slamming it down mere inches from Shyvana's ear, causing her to jerk against her chains again.

"You will suffer my fury, I swear it!" Shyvana growled as she backed away from the ax.

"That's good, I like fight in my women." He waved a man over. "Don't worry, we're going to have plenty of time to break you in. Hold her head." Two men passed a leather strap over her head, holding her down so she couldn't turn her head. Draven laid a cloth over her face and chuckled as he brought out a bucket of water. "Take a deep breath now..."

Shyvana did just that, breathing in deeply as her horns extended from her head, the scales appearing on her face and neck, She turned her head, blowing a cloud of flames out at one of the men holding her down, his hands dropping the strap they were using to hold her down as she jerked at the manacles, blood beginning to drip down her arm as she struggled, roaring and hissing angrily. Draven met her gaze, staring into the reptilian eyes that swirled with rage and fire. They glowed a brilliant, vicious orange color that burned up at him like hellspawn in the darkness.

"I thought you said she wouldn't be able to use her magic?" Draven shouted, as one of his men writhed on the ground, clutching his charred and blackened face.

"She shouldn't have been able to!" The mage said, flipping through his tome. Draven growled in anger, watching his subordinate die on the ground, clutching at his throat. He looked back at the mage in disgust.

"What the hell happened?" Draven snapped.

"You just don't get it, do you?" A voice growled from the doorway. Darius crossed his arms over his chest. "It's not Dragon magic, you fool." Darius growled, nodding towards where she was bound to the table. She watched silently, defiance in her eyes. "She's half dragon."

"I... She..." Draven met her gaze again, taking an uneasy step back. "You mean..."

"And surely you weren't planning on torturing the Generals' plaything, especially before a big fight?" Darius said from the doorway. Draven felt ice shoot through his veins as he turned, a cheeky smile on his face.

"Brother!" He said, smiling still, trying to laugh it off. "Of course not!" Draven tried to shrug innocently, but he was unable to hide it from his brother.

"While I admire your... desire for unmatched power, I do not tolerate cowardice." Darius growled, waving his men forward. "Arrest these men and see to it that my brother is escorted home." He raised the ax up and brought it down, cutting the chains on Shyvana's manacles. She cowered back, growling, sinking low into a defensive stance as she rolled off the table. He turned to his lieutenant, scowling at his brother as he was escorted out of the room.

"Get the doc up here and have him look her over." Darius said, frowning at the instruments of torture that his brother had laid out for her. Long spikes, pliers, several buckets of water to water-board her with, a stove to heat a brand with, the works. Darius was not above using torture to further his means, but something like this... He spat against the wall, watching as Shyvana eyed him, both anger and fear in her eyes.

"Get her somewhere safe, for both her sake and the guards." Darius said shaking his head. "I need to speak with General Swain on this matter."

"Yes, sir." His lieutenant said, eying the dragoness with unease.

"I told you to prevent something like this from happening." Swain said, irritation swirling in his voice. Darius stood rigidly at attention in Swain's study, a roaring fire illuminating the dark room, musty books filling rows and rows of bookshelves, papers piled high atop a desk. There was a map of Valoran against one wall, and an enlarged map of Noxus hung next to it, red arrows and crosses placed across points of interest. Darius recognized a few of them, other were foreign even to him. Beatrice was perched atop a roost near swain's plush, red velvet chair, her beak tucked under one wing, her six eyes closed. Darius returned his gaze to a section of blank wall directly ahead, just above eye level.

"My brother went to some rather extreme measures to ensure he wasn't directly connected to her capture." Darius said, rigidly. "I only happened to witness the hand off and was able to interfere before too much happened."

"I see..." Swain said, eying him suspiciously. "At ease, general. You have no need of such decorum in my personal quarters. Besides, you serve on the council and I do not, I should be showing you the respect." Swain said, massaging the bridge of his nose. Darius eased his stance, but he did not speak. "No doubt we have lost the ability to recruit her strength to our cause." He mused. "It'll be a pity to have her put down if she refuses to fight, but this was not an unforeseen outcome."

"Apologies, general." Darius said calmly. "Perhaps..."

"An idea?" Swain said, raising one thin eyebrow up with interest. "Please, speak your mind general, you rarely speak your mind."

Darius paused, his mind drifting back to the fact that the half-dragon was the one who had bested him and his men, not the prisoner that was being detained in the dungeons of high-command. Darius thought better of it though, grimacing.

"It's nothing, general." Darius said waving his hand dismissively. "Just the notion of letting her face off against my brother if she succeeds tomorrow..." Darius grinned. "It might teach him some humility." Swain chuckled, nodding.

"If she does, I'm sure it will prove to be quiet the fight." He nodded. "See to it that nothing else disturbs this fight. I want Boram Darkwill's attention elsewhere tomorrow. And preferably his son's as well." Swain breathed in the steam rising from a cup of tea.

"Any word on Marcus Du Couteau's daughter?" Swain said, watching the fire as he sipped his tea.

"She returned about a week ago, with minor injuries." Darius said, remembering a report. "She evaded my scouts for most of her journey, only letting them find her again after she reentered the city."

"And has she found any word on her father's disappearance?" Swain said quietly, his eyes taking a dark sheen to them.

"Doubtful, sir." Darius said, frowning. He had a sense of respect for Katarina Du Couteau, even if they didn't see eye to eye. She was close to royalty among the Noxian elite, and her father had been in deep with Boram Darkwill.

"See that it stays that way." Swain said, frowning. "You are free to leave whenever you like, general."

"As you wish." Darius said, bowing, backing away, he pulled the doors shut behind him as he left Swain's study, sighing as he did. The night was young and already he had plenty of work to do.