18. Thunderclap
[[File 18.1 GA-#####]
Three monsters reclined in small coffee shop stools, excitement running on their faces. The dim light of night outside could not hide their wide smiles. Ties had been stripped and left to hang on the backs of their chairs, collars had been loosened, lab coats had been discarded, and in Sans' case, he had even pulled off his polished black shoes for a pair of fuzzy green cat slippers. He propped those slippers up prominently on one unused chair, an action which caused Gaster to grimace, if not precisely make commentary on the casual action. Yet even Gaster had pulled his right arm behind him to informally rest it on the chair back, left arm resting on the café table and holding his mug handle. At times, he raised it up to his lips to sip the still-warm tea. He might have been a little terse, a little on edge, and sometimes a little curt compared to how he had been in previous café visits, but he at least was attending to the motions of relaxing now. He wanted to be here, with his two team members, with his two friends.
Sans had completely chugged his coffee by now, and was contemplating another cup, apart from the fact he did not want Gaster to foot too large a bill – the Royal Scientist was, as adamantly always, paying for everyone present – while Rain had yet to touch his frothy, sugary drink. The engineer instead leaned forward to attack his latest crayon masterpiece. It might have been a self-portrait – but then again, it also might have been the drawing of a column, a coffee machine, or the Grim Reaper. His work was even worse than usual, for he scribbled even as his eyes left the paper, staring wide-eyed and eager at Gaster's recounts.
"wow, really? are you sure that's what happened?" Sans asked, signing between Rain and Gaster. "i don't know if i believe you."
"Indeed so," Gaster said. His stiffness dropped for a moment, smile not reaching his cheekbones but still lighting his eyesockets. "What reason would I have to account anything differently?"
This remark prompted Rain to set down his pencil. Probably for the best. His right hand had just slipped outside the lines and started drawing a random glob of purple aside the outlined monster figure. He would need a lot of creativity and fortune to correct that error. "To be fair, Gaster," said Rain, with an amused hum on top his signs, "you are in a constant prank war with Sans. I know works' been busy, so it's been a very long time since you've messed up his office or posted blackmail photos on the lab bulletin boards. But because it's been a long time, we are on our guard."
"since you're the only one going through these parallel universes," added Sans, "we have no way of knowing if you're making these stories up."
"I could not make this story up," said Gaster. "You know it is far too creative for me to conjure on my own."
Sans and Rain glanced at one another, bobbed their heads in consideration, and then, at once, nodded. This convinced them. They knew the ever goal-oriented doctor quite well.
"true," said Sans, at the same time Rain said, "True."
Sans continued, smile still wide, "okay. let's hear another story."
Gaster paused contemplatively, taking the time of consideration to stare deeply into his tea mug, pick it up, and take a long draught. He set the cup down again, at which point he appeared to have finally remembered something worthwhile. He glanced to his right carefully – at the owner of the obnoxious green kitty slippers – before enunciating, "The next tale that comes to mind involves your brother."
Rain started giggling, crayon again skewing wildly – this time a green one – at the same time Sans blinked rapidly in confusion. "wait, what? but you haven't met papyrus."
"I did in this timeline. Friendly fellow, if also… quite a memorable experience."
"i don't know if i want to know."
"Of course you do," said Rain. His hum had turned into a bouncy, amused giggle, already anticipating a good story. He leaned forward over his artwork, scattering a few crayons across the table – one even dropping to the floor – as he propped his elbows on the table and used the palms of his hands to push up his cheeks. A wide grin and equally wide eyes peered out from under his ever-present purple hood.
"Suffice it to say your brother visited the laboratory one day, during a school holiday I believe, and assisted in… altering the results… of one of your experiments." Gaster was not one talented in storytelling, but the dry and carefully worded comment fueled Rain nevertheless into spewing out laughter. Sans, groaning in amusement, rubbed his left hand against his forehead. The groans turned louder and turned to repeated signed "no"s when Gaster elaborated, "I believe he thought he was assisting with lunch."
"whoops."
"The laboratory did not quite burn down, but…"
"oh my god."
"I paid for all the damages for you," Gaster assured Sans with a wave of his hand. "You didn't need the financial burden. And your brother really was enjoying himself the entire time. He shared all the popcorn with everyone in means of apology."
"great…"
"I wish I had seen this," tittered Rain. "I guess I did, but I didn't, so I wish I had…"
Simultaneously amused and abashed, Sans pointed his left hand to Rain's work. He chided, before his coworker could continue babbling, "hey, keep drawing."
Rain stayed smirking at Sans, but obliged and plucked up his purple crayon. He was beginning to draw a hood on the middle height figure to the left.
Sans kept one eye on Rain's drawings even as he sent an inquiry to Gaster. "so you saw my brother visit the lab? it sounds like that was a long time ago, back when i had first started working for you. that means you've tried a RESET and not just a SAVE, right?"
Gaster's face contorted into a grimace. He ground his teeth for a short moment before he answered. His pretended pleasant mood faded into something unfeigned. His hands bit out a bitter response; he seemed to be talking about a long-term problem he had been battling for some time. "Yes, that incident did come out of a RESET, though I did not travel so far back chronologically as I would have wished. It feels as though I reach a block and cannot travel back further than a certain point in my career. It is a problem I will need to study with great deliberation and no little time."
"well, you've got plenty of time now that you can hop backwards," Sans said with a shrug. Maybe that appeal to logic would calm his supervisor. And maybe a conversational tangent could help, too. "i must say, it sounds like you've been exploring back in time more than i thought you would. how many jumps have you made now? there's no way for you to send us documentation, so…"
"I am experiencing my twenty-seventh timeline, as of now."
Sans and Rain whistled. Both of them gave the same sign – an open hand, knuckles facing out, shaken up and down twice. "wow."
"I will do as many time skips as it is needed to advance our goal," said the scientist. Strangely, he seemed a little terse at his coworkers' awed responses. Usually, he would have taken their adulations with a completely passive expression. As it was, a little irritation pulled down his forehead. Perhaps repeating the same events so many times had worn on him. Perhaps the lack of progress reaching his apparent goal grated him more.
"As it is…" Gaster glanced outdoors, now thoroughly dark, and fidgeted in his chair. He stared at his cup as though contemplating whether the last third were worth drinking. It would be cold by now. His foot jittered impatiently at the chair, a silent indication he would prefer to rush out the door than finish what he had purchased. "…I have spent more time than planned here. As enjoyable as the diversions have been, this work requires my attention with greater energy than ever before. I may have access to time travel, but I do nevertheless still find time of the essence."
"you call twenty minutes at a coffee shop a long break? wow. that's… pretty taskmastering, doc. make sure you don't overwork yourself."
In a sudden break of passiveness, Gaster snapped, "For the love of god, quit questioning me. Quit pestering me. Of course I will not overwork myself, Sans! That will never be an issue!"
That on-edge disposition he had been fighting the entire café break finally caved in. But Gaster had never – never – snapped out like that before. Sans and Rain paused. How long had the Royal Scientist been fighting back his frustrations by pretending to enjoy their coffee outing? Why would Gaster be irritated now, of all times? Sans had said very little to merit such a snappish response.
Self-conscious of the outburst, Wings Dings calmed himself, and proceeded more stoically, "I shall see the both of you in my office tomorrow to discuss my latest research breakthroughs on SAVE point construction and utilization."
He at this point quickly reached for his coat, slipped it over his green sweater, and left the coffee shop before either colleague could wish him goodbye. A drop from his right hand finger – perhaps a loose droplet of tea? – splashed on the table as he left.
"Drat," sighed Rain. "Just when I finished this picture and was going to show him. I was hoping it'd make him less irritable. He has been a little irritable the last few days, hasn't he?"
"i wanna see it," Sans insisted, trying to shake off Gaster's strange and unexpected snap and encourage his colleague into renewed good spirits. It truly did make no sense in context. Gaster cared for his team; while he maintained a carefully neutral, professional expression around them, he never fell to anything impatient or unkind. "show me the pic."
Rain held up the drawing and grinned. Though Sans had been uncertain before what his friend had been attempting to draw, he could tell now – in part because the clothing corresponded to what all of them had been wearing that night. The smallest round blob, little more than a circle with a head to the right, wore something green on his feet. The medium height pillar on the right sported a violet hoodie and long pants. The central figure wore a long jacket and a green undershirt. Sans, Rain, and Gaster.
"It's us!" Rain beamed. "The dream team! The unlockers of time travel! The three future heroes of the underground!"
"hey, that's p' cool." Sans could feel a genuine smile returning to his face. He remembered how excited Doctor Gaster had been the moment they discovered time travel – he had been crying, laughing, and smiling alongside the two of them. Sans could still see the expression. The current situations of constant backtracking must have worn him down, but… they would return to that state of elation sometime, wouldn't they, once they reached the surface?
[[File 18.2 SA-20150710-11-#-#]]
Any average individual with common sense – or at least a healthy state of self-preservation – would have raced the other direction. Hell, even someone with a marginal sense of caution or love of life would not have neared this place. Another set of shouts and a burst of orange magic shot above treetops… a specialized, exhausting form of magic monsters typically reserved for special events or desperate self-defense. Sans doubted the orange bursts signified celebration. Though monsters, leaving the underground for the first time in centuries, could find sufficient cause to celebrate, he knew those had not been shrieks of joy echoing in the magic spark's aftermath.
Whether or not Papyrus judged these shouts safe, Sans could not say. All he knew was that his brother – unlike any common individual – charged directly toward those surges of magic. It would have been just like his younger brother to hear shouts, spy sparks, and deduce the presence of party. Yet Papyrus also far exceed the average heart in sympathy, and with a SOUL far more concerned about others' wellbeing than his own safety, he would race straight toward the misfortuned. Either angle, Papyrus could do nothing but race toward the unseen commotion. As for Sans, he had no choice but to race behind him, cursing his brothers' long legs and physical fitness.
The slight downward slope of the hill steepened. Sans almost snowballed down the suddenly sharp angle, only barely managing to scuffle wildly rather than outright face plant. His tennis shoes dug into dirt. Still he skid. Past grass and flowers and thick tree trunks he found himself whisking, almost out of control; and yet Papyrus charged up ahead, necessity fueling his steps to greater speed. His brother flew as a shadow into deeper forest.
Behind his footsteps, Sans could hear a growing noise. He and Papyrus rushed straight into it.
They crashed into a surprisingly sizeable crowd. Papyrus nimbly danced around steel plates and shields, slowing down his feet while at the same time quickly speaking up to socialize. Sans' transition into the mob transpired less smoothly. He crashed straight into a suit of armor, gasped out an apology, bumped into another monster behind him, groaned, and then nearly fell to his knees from exhaustion. His chest and belly heaved from exertion; his body, accustomed to snacks and napping, rebelled about the exercise. He lost sight of Papyrus a short moment as he knelt over to put his palms on his knee caps.
The Royal Guard members shuffled about, hardly even noticing the addition of the two skeletons. Sans watched their boots nervously puff up dust. Murmurs swelled up, too; though he could not isolate a single sentence, the rising intonations in their voices betrayed questions and insecure uncertainty.
He pulled up his head to search for Papyrus. Papyrus had blended into the shadows of other skulls and helmets staring about them in awe. The village would have seemed much like Snowdin – small, wood-constructed, pointed-roof shacks; a single line of several shops; trees growing about the campus – yet it boasted one strange feature the monsters before had never experienced.
Sans suddenly realized it was not just a single crowd that milled in the village square. There were two.
As he sidled up to his brother's side, Papyrus whispered at an impressively loud frequency, "(SANS?)"
"(yeah?)"
"(ARE THOSE… HUMANS?)"
"(yes.)"
He answered the question as a declarative, though he felt some surprise within himself, too. These creatures were not what Sans had expected. Even after watching some online human videos and studying their illustrations in history textbooks, the three dimensional forms of a separate sapient species still caught him by surprise. They appeared as clones, all of them – the same mop of hair on their heads, the same fur-less faces, the same gawky four-limbed stance. Even their facial expressions all looked the same – small pupils hovering in the middle of widened eyes; jaws opened in shock; eyebrows raised to convey surprise.
They appeared to be babbling, too, and talking amongst themselves, just as the monsters were. Neither party seemed to know how to proceed. Monsters gestured and pointed; humans carefully pointed flashlights toward the guards; monsters nervously charged magic in their palms; humans fondled sleek, long tool in their hands – it was too dark to tell, but Sans suspected those were rifles.
Monster and human made eye contact across their ranks. Curiosity. Apprehension. Hesitation. Above the sound of a still-rising wind, Sans heard their voices. "What are those things? Is that a fish?" "Where's Undyne when you need her?" "We can't be hallucinating, can we?" "What do we do?" "ASGORE wanted the war to continue, right? So do we just… uh…?" "Are they dangerous? What do we do?" "What do we" "He didn't give us orders to fight so I think we should just" "What do we" "No you're not hallucina" "Stay still. Maybe they won't" "What do" "Not sure what" "What do" "What" "Are you sure this is safe?" "What do we" "We've waited hundreds of years for this vengeance and now you" "Are we safe?" "What do we" "What do we"
"What do we do?"
Some were approaching one another, as though at a social gathering, intent on greeting the other individual with a casual comment on the weather. A young human child stood not two feet away from a sleek-armored knight. The kid sucked on one thumb, clutched a stuffed rabbit in the other hand, and compared their toy with the long ears pointing out from the monster's steel helmet. Yet both sides shuffled uncomfortably, kept largely to themselves, and whispered to their like-species neighbors. Tension crackled over the simple village roofs.
Sans could realize now the Guards stood sans orders. ASGORE had sent them to the surface with little instruction and no preparation. Just as the king had foregone mentioning the status of the war on humans to the underground masses, so it appeared the king had opted not mention a word to his forces, either. "He didn't give any orders to attack…" Sans heard one monster murmur, while another, at the same time, whispered to their neighbor, "War's still on, right, bro?"
With discomfort, Sans noticed that most of the monsters in the crowd wore Royal Guard armor, while most of the humans brandished makeshift weapons and even a few pitchforks and firearms. If the monsters chose to act by ASGORE's old promise, this peaceful village would quickly become a battlefield.
A sense of urgency pricked Sans' neck. He glanced up to his brother with a frown, hoping Papyrus would notice Sans' expression and read the message. Sans wanted out. They needed out. Their introduction to humans could wait for another, less tedious time. A mob of Royal Guards standing at a mob of uncertain villagers hardly seemed safe.
At least no more magic bursts had shot into the night.
"papyrus," he whispered, still unable to catch his brother's attention. Papyrus stared, jaw slack, at the clusters of human. "papyrus, hey. bro?" No response. He nudged his brother's side. One elbow stab. A second one, more urgent. "let's say we get out of h –"
A collective living gasp overtook the wind for a moment, before it again howled over everyone, a loud and vicious tempest streaking through the trees. Humans and monsters staggered back in surprise. Sans, from his angle, spotted only lights shining up the sky. They danced over the Milky Way in bright ethereal rainbows. The Aurora Borealis? No, not the right time of year. What then…
He turned.
It was impossible to miss. The inconceivably mighty god-form of ASGORE DREEMURR strode over the treetops toward the village center. Each leg's circumference outgrew the base of pines; ASGORE's fists would have been too large to enter through a door. Behind him spread two enormous, leathery wings, flashing in a bright array of colors – orange and light blue and violet and red and cerulean and lime and gold. SOUL energy, the electric colors, SOUL energy of frightful and unparalleled power.
The wind was roaring now.
ASGORE will free us. ASGORE will save us all.
The humans had emerged from their houses, silent but tense, in nervous curiosity when the main contingent of Royal Guard soldiers had arrived. Not so threatened they had hid or run inside, they had instead slowly drawn themselves outdoors to investigate the situation. Fear they might have felt, but not the threat to their lives. Until now. Sans could see their postures change. At the nearing presence of ASGORE, they cringed, hunkering toward the earth, as though hoping a crumpled posture could hide them in the disrupted dark. Sans could certainly see the pitchforks and firearms now gleaming in the monster king's pulsating light. He heard nothing but quiet clicks and a muffled sob.
It would be too late to hide now.
"Holy shit," he might have heard someone murmur. Another. "Lord help us all."
ASGORE strode into the village and took his place alongside the monsters. The humans now trembled, some of them stirring, as though preparing to stampede. Voices rose up in increasing agitation – "Oh my god oh my god oh my god" "Fuck what is that thing" "I can't take it, I can't – I got to – we need to get out of…" "Shit" "Gonna die we're all gonna die."
ASGORE's voice boomed into the wind. He had been a bass before his physicak transformation. Now, ASGORE was thunder reincarnate, each syllable rumbling with a power that shook chest cavities and rattled the earth beneath their feet.
"Howdy."
Above the screams and sobs and whispers and questions – "What do we do?" – and desperate pleas – "We need to leave Dad we need to leave now" – and prayers and moans and wailts and incomprehensible gibberish, came out a shout, "Don't take one step forward, you beast, or I'll hit ya between the eyes!"
Fear of his appearance would overshadow the meaning of his simple greeting.
The aggressive threat ricocheted through the valley. Echoing outcries arose from the opposing monster ranks, the Royal Guard jumbled together and swarming in a mass only marginally less settled than the fearful humans. Anger, rage, shock sparked through them. Voices became riled. "It was a genocide last time! And nothing's changed!" A magic spear forming in a raging tortoise's hands. "Is that what it is? Slaughter us again?!" Rising voices. Fear sparked. Very little would be needed to ignite the flame. A burst of orange magic again broke through the night like a firecracker. "Did we just come to the surface to die?"
Above the rising voices, Sans might have heard ASGORE's might grumble. "Now, now." What were the words after it? "Let's not get hasty"? No one heard.
An angry squall rose over it all.
ASGORE will free us. ASGORE will save us all…
"papyrus! papyrus, we need to –"
"We're gonna die we're gonna –"
"ASGORE –"
"It's time to end this with human bl –"
A human challenger strode forward. Though thick, strong, and squat she stood, ASGORE could have squashed her with one step forward. Yet she stood with a boldness, a tenacity, and a courage brought on by desperation – cornered, now ready to attack. The humans could not flee. The monsters were raging against them. Their only chance now? To fight.
Hostilities cut clearly through the swarms. "Don't you take one step forward, 'cause I don't wanna do this neither."
Another's words shouted over hers. "Colleen, geddaway from it! Get – the – fuck – away! It ain't worth it!" a voice in the crowd exclaimed.
Was that a rifle she cradled in her arms? "You ha'n't forgotten those old graves in the graveyard, have ya?"
Stirring from both groups of shadows. Sans could see disturbance in the monsters' eyes. There were coffins back home in the underground, too: seven of them for seven human SOULs… and one golden flower – a coffin of its own – where the dust of a monster child had fallen.
"Remember why we buried 'em?"
Murmurs from monsters and humans.
"The old stories? Of a hell beast like this?"
The monsters had not forgotten the deaths of Chara and Asriel Dreemurr, princette and prince of the underground. The humans had not forgotten the deaths of their kind, either.
Rising shouts.
And ASGORE… once wincing… stiffened.
The death of his children would be all the reminder ASGORE needed to lower his head. No more would he gaze these humans eye-to-eye. No more would he bargain. No more would he waver. With regret, but memory of that ancient promise, a house-sized fist wrenched forth a trident five times as long as the human huts. Red magic glowed from tip to shaft, bathing every human, every monster, every tree, every house, in an unholy light. A color like human blood reflected from the godhead's teeth.
And still the monsters shouted. They had placed their trust in ASGORE. They had understood it could lead to war. Their shifting masses solidified into a hardened brick, pointing forth sword and spear at their sworn enemies.
Here it was. The battle for which they had been hoping for generations.
ASGORE will free us. ASGORE will save us all.
The human woman, this Colleen, drew in a breath. Sans could not read her face in the dark; he could only tell the shadows shifted. The firearm moved.
"Alright then. So be it."
Too late to hide.
Too cramped to flee.
Too tense to disperse.
The crack of a gun preceded a call to arms. Criess arose amongst the shout. "Come on, you cowards! Target's too big to miss! Fight for your lives! Fight you're your lives!"
The tempest roared.
So did ASGORE.
Every inch of the hillside erupted in magic. A thousand separate angry flames burst out from the center of the ground in an enormous ring, blasting the world into rainbow conflagrations. They overtook the stars, launched over treetops, set meadows and forests ablaze. Circling around ASGORE like satellites, they rose ever upward. Up, up, up. Past the moon. Around his trident. Across the human world.
Thus raged the wrath of a god.
He struck.
Screams. Bodies slammed into Sans. The pulsation of magic lights blinded – he could not see; he could not navigate. He crashed into a body, maybe human, maybe monster. Maybe even brother. He shoved them aside. Fear, knotting inside him, would take no chances. In chaos like this, collateral damage occurred. A peaceful stampede would trample a few members. In a tense body like this, someone almost certainly would die.
He could see spears rising up against the flashing lights. Magic glowed against magic. Swords lunged to fend off foes; both human and monster, on both sides of the blade, shrieked out. Flashlights snapped on from the human side in a frenzy, and with the bright lights came deafening cracks. Gunshots. It was no more a standstill. It was battle.
ASGORE swept over them all as his mighty wings knocked aside buildings. "There will be war!" Thor-like thunder. "War against humans and monsters!" A flash from his trident – lightning. "Royal Guard, get behind me! I will fight these humans off!"
Even now, ASGORE DREEMURR would protect his own and minimize dust-shed.
"All together now! While he's standing up!" An angry male voice followed by piercing cracks. More human shouts.
ASGORE stumbled backward.
"papyrus, papyrus!" When had Sans lost him? He swiveled his head, terror knotting his SOUL as he scanned the chaos for his baby brother. Rake smacked the side of a rabbit. Rapier lunged toward the chest of a man. "papyrus!" Flashes. Blinding lights. Motion, motion, motion, whites and blacks and blues and grays…
Sans finally found him. His brother stood, transfixed, staring at the main showdown. In the center of the village square stood their monarch champion and a host of rifle-wielding enemies. Blue flickered at the tips of Papyrus' right hand. It would not be a mere bone attack Papyrus contemplated. No. No, no, no, no, no.
He ran. Rushing up to his brother, Sans yanked on the safe left fingers, urging his brother, "c'mon, bro. let's scram. this is asgore's fight. not yours."
Magic flickered across his phalanges. Papyrus hesitated, clearly torn between duty and conscience. "AND THE ROYAL GU…"
"you're not in the royal guard. do you want to be dead?"
Not to mention Papyrus could be no killer. He had not the heart for it. Sans doubted his brother would be able to kindle the magic inside him any further; it would spark but not fully form into a wall of skulls.
A cloud of dust whisking through the wind.
The clash of wood cracking on armor.
"OKAY. MAYBE YOU'RE RIGHT FOR ONCE." The taller skeleton stumbled backwards as an enormous trident pierced black stormclouds. The world erupted into red. This was no aurora, but a paranormal light show of infinitely greater might. Death rained down in blood drops over the lap. Fear leaked in Papyrus' voice. "OH MY GOD, SANS, WHERE CAN WE GO!?"
They were rushing everywhere, humans and monsters. Some to flee. Some to fight. He could not see it all. The world flashed in confusing color.
Sans could only grab his brother's hand and stumble through the masses. Eyesockets scrunched, mouth opened in a soundless wail, he charged. Away. Away from the village. They had to make it.
Collision.
Sans shouted at the same moment Papyrus shot up a defense. Magic sparked blue. Bones forced back a pitchfork.
"SANS, COME ON!"
He forced himself to open his eyes and continue running. The world darkened from the painful flashes of a dozen monsters channeling magic. But the world still drowned in bloody red from ASGORE's long-ranged might.
"over here," he gestured quickly to a copse of junipers. "now squat down. they can't see us."
He had only wished to see the stars.
ASGORE will free us. ASGORE will save us all…
If ASGORE did not save them now, everyone would die.
Bullets pounded against a magic screen. The king, too large and slow to dodge, bellowed in agony as every round hit. From the light of his magic, dust spewed in spurts from the injuries, yellow confetti snowing down on the streets. Orange dust dripped from his hands.
He lashed back. Fire. Horizontal flames of every hue. Blue and green and orange and white. He soaked the world in color.
Sans could hear the humans screaming, see them rear up, see them tumble desperately to the ground and roll to put out the flames. Some never had a chance. They burst up in torches. A moment later, unmoving charred trunks fell to earth, shattering upon impact.
Still more rounds of gunfire. "Fight for your lives!" Colleen's voice.
"SANS, SANS, I CAN'T WATCH!"
To his side, Papyrus was curled inward, a tight, shaking ball whose eyesockets had buried themselves in his shirt sleeves and whose knees were curled in toward his ribcage. The entire skeleton rocked back and forth, moaning.
Unfortunately, while Papyrus could not watch, Sans could. He could not turn his eyesockets aside.
Carnage.
A god raining judgment on sinners. Several generations later, the death of Asriel repaid.
"Help me!" a human wail. Sans could not help them.
"It's now or never! Kill or be killed!"
Crack, crack, crack…