Warning: Excessive Exposition

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October 24th, 2281, 2:43 a.m. Lucky 38, New Vegas.

The room was silent beyond the sounds of Lily preparing a meal in the kitchen nearby. The heady smell of cooking meats and vegetables wafted through the air, but if the occupants of the room noticed the aromas, they said nothing.

Boone sat with his head bowed and his hands clasped on the table in front of him.

Veronica fidgeted with the IV line attached to her wrist, occasionally opening her mouth for a moment before deciding better of it and remaining silent.

Ganon stood in a corner of the room with his arms crossed and a walking cane resting against his side.

Raul was emptying a glass of water – he was awfully thirsty.

Cass leaned against the wall next to the doorway to the kitchen, lips pursed and eyes boring a hole in the floor.

The Courier stood in the center of the room with his arms behind his back. His gaze shifted to and from each of his companions, and as it reached Raul, the decrepit mechanic glanced at a non-existent watch on his wrist and pretended to yawn, winking at Denn as he did.

The Courier smiled for a moment before casting his eyes to the ground and clearing his throat. "Firstly, I apologize for putting you all in danger," he began. "It was calculated, it was necessary, and it was completely unfair. Each of you has proven yourself ten times over, and if it were not for you, the Mojave wouldn't be anywhere close to the state it is now. You deserved… you deserve better."

Denn glanced up and met the eyes of his companions in turn – hesitation, confusion, encouragement, curiosity, anger.

"I am not – strictly speaking – human," the Courier continued, shifting slightly. "I was, at one point. When Boone and Veronica met me four years ago, I had just survived the detonation of multiple nuclear warheads underneath the town of Hopeville – the disaster that led to the creation of the Divide. I stumbled deliriously across the wasteland with no memory of who I was or where I had come from, until a caravan picked me up and dropped me off in Goodsprings.

"Most of my activities during this time period you all know. I traveled across the Mojave looking for answers to questions I didn't quite understand. When I returned to Goodsprings and continued my work as a Courier, I was immediately attacked and shot in the head… by the leader of the Chairmen no less.

"I survived, and with the injury came flashbacks to my life before the creation of the Divide. Hopeville had been my home – I had to see what had happened to it.

"A mistake, as it turns out. The Legion and NCR had been skirmishing in the area as the warheads exploded, and the survivors had banded together even as the radiation pervading after the detonations physically tore them apart…"

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He had stopped asking why.

With the skill of an exhausted field medic, the marked man sawed his blade up, tearing through skin – cartilage.

A second marked man walked into the room and roughly pulled his face away from the first; inspecting the first's work before nodding in approval and shoving his head back. He struggled, and earned another strike against his chest – a thin line of crimson.

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"All of it?"

"All of the cartilage. Reconstructive surgery makes it hard to tell unless you look very closely, but my nose and ears are not exactly 'original pieces,' you might say."

"Why? Why did they do it?"

"They never said, but I assume it was because they wanted to make me like them. Others might have come before me – prospectors and the like. I was just the only one to survive."

"How did you escape?"

"I was rescued…"

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"Finding you here… you came before I did."

"You… you're from Hopeville. I remember you."

"Courier Six. What are you doing here?"

"I… had to come back. Had to see what happened."

"What you caused."

"What? How did I cause this?"

"Delivery from Navarro – shared the symbol of the old world structures here. Activated the giants beneath the earth. Your delivery – your message."

"Christ… it was a transmission device… I had no idea it was for nuclear weapons; the NCR had no idea."

"Irrelevant. More giants remain, and they will roar in vengeance against those that devastated this place."

"Wait… what? You… you're going to launch the missiles against the NCR?"

"Yes… and you will witness me."

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"He was going to nuke the NCR?"

"Why?"

"He blamed them, and me, for Hopeville's destruction. The man himself was a former Frumentarii agent for the Legion – one of Caesar's most capable instruments. He abandoned the Legion and settled in Hopeville. Its destruction drove him mad with grief and he was desperate to see those to blame pay for their transgressions."

"But, nuking the NCR… how many missiles did he have?"

"Enough. He was going to wipe out the entire Long 15, cut the throat of the NCR and leave it to the Legion."

"I thought he left the Legion?"

"He was determined to see the NCR punished. He didn't do it to aid Caesar…"

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"If you blame me for the Divide, then make me answer for it, not others."

"Blame you? No… learned from you – both the weapon to kill a nation, and the strength to do it. You showed me the road – the way to carry my message. You answered for what you've done, now the flag you followed will answer for it."

"I never followed the NCR. I left the West as soon as I was old enough. My time spent there was just part of being a courier – it was never my home. They didn't-"

"Your work – their conquest. Immaterial. After this, only one flag will remain over the Mojave. Let that one fly… or destroy itself."

"So the only options are the NCR or the Legion? What you're doing isn't even going to completely destroy the NCR; it's going to destroy the Mojave. You were a part of Hopeville; you saw what those people can do."

"And saw what they created destroyed by one man. Twice my home has been taken from me – this time I will see the debt repaid."

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"He was insane."

"His tribe had been absorbed into the Legion, and he had been subjected to the indoctrination of a Frumentarii. That fragmented mind decided to make Hopeville his home, and then that home was consumed in nuclear fire. He lashed out at those responsible in a calculated and methodical way."

"So that makes what he wanted to do right?"

"No, which is why I stopped him."

"How?"

"I killed him."

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Last tape – last message. In case... you best me. If you're hearing this, you have, through blood or word.

This message – and all that lies with it – it is for you, Courier. For if you want to know the... why of things. This world, I've walked a good part of it. I stopped only because of you. What you did, gave me pause.

Long ago, I crossed the Colorado, the first among the Legion to see Hoover Dam in all its glory – an Old World wall, yet bridging two sides, and beyond it, a symbol of a two-headed Bear – an idea great enough to challenge Caesar himself.

Might kill him taking it – whether he won or lost. The Bull needs to fight – needs the challenge. Without it, it falters – dies in the dust.

Might be a lesson there, in you and me. Leave the thought behind the message to you.

My message is this: the destruction that has been wrought at the Divide – or elsewhere, if you couldn't stop me – it can happen again. It will keep happening.

If war doesn't change, men must change, and so must their symbols.

Even if it is nothing at all, know what you follow, Courier. Whatever your symbol, know what-

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"He left that tape for you to find?"

"Yes. What he accomplished in the Divide – even with how horrible it could have been – was astounding in regards to how much preparation and intelligence it required. He was one of the most driven and capable people I have ever encountered. If I had been able to convince him not to… well… things could have gone very differently.

"As it was, I left and traveled South. I was done, so to speak. Ulysses was convinced I was to blame, both for Hopeville's rise and its destruction. That was more than I wanted to live with, so I ran from it – straight into the arms of your former mentor, Veronica."

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"Are you listening? Good. From now on, when I talk, listen – and follow my instructions. Play stupid, play clever, make the mistake of saying 'no?' That collar on your neck'll go off and take your head with it."

"Fuck you."

"Better than the groggy questions the others bombard me with… yes… you will make a capable instrument."

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"The Sierra Madre was a casino preserved from the Great War and the wasteland by an unmoving Cloud of toxins. A group of creatures, known as Ghost People, traveled through the Cloud and were immune to it. I, however, was not. The damage to my lungs is still a problem to this day, and the toxins also reacted to the dose of radiation I received from the Divide in ways we are still trying to figure… out…"

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They hadn't found him, but they would.

Everywhere. Fucking Christ they were everywhere. Their breathing – horrid inhalations and the low dirge of exhalations – echoed around him. There was nowhere left to go… nowhere left to…

The Cloud. He couldn't see through it, but neither could they. It also wasn't deadly to them… but he didn't have a choice.

Deep breath.

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"So… the toxin affected you?" Ganon asked leadingly, breaking the Courier out of his daydream.

"Forgive me. As far as we can tell, yes. I was in the early stages of Ghoulification at the time, but it seems as if the Cloud halted that adaptation. In fact, the toxins seem to have preserved my body in its current state. Like Ghouls, I receive a mental high and rush of adrenaline from radiation and I am resistant to medicine and alcohol, but my skin and other organs have yet to degenerate any further."

"Lucky."

"Not as glamorous as you might think, Raul. Since the Sierra Madre, whenever I am forcibly knocked unconscious, some… thing takes over almost immediately. I react and behave similar to a Ghost Person, which indicates that this 'feral' state is not linked to radiation. I maintain memories of my actions during this state and they are… disconcerting."

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Fear, pleading, screams of agony. Bones cave, chest ruptures, heart beats in bloodstained hands.

Rage, satisfaction, glee.

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"How many times have you gone… have you turned like that?"

"After my fight with Lanius, four times. Three times in combat, and the forth intentionally in the Lucky 38 to run tests on my capabilities."

"We had four layers of defense – he smashed through three of them and took out seven Securitrons… he was unarmed."

"There's no way an inhaled toxin made you that strong… or fast."

"It didn't. After I escaped the Sierra Madre, I didn't, and still don't, remember anything until I woke up in an auto-doc three hundred miles away – an Old World research facility called Big Mountain."

"Big Mt? Rumors of it are pretty common in the NCR. Supposedly it's why trade caravans avoid the Northern routes into New Vegas. Anybody who goes to investigate never comes out."

"I heard it was called the Big Empty?"

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"PACIFY THIS PENIS-TIPPED FLESHBAG!"

"You really don't want to do that."

"YOU ARE NOT THE MASTER OF MY WANTS!"

"No… really… you don't want to-"

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"So there were literally mad scientists in the wasteland conducting terrible experiments? The bad pre-war movies were right all along…"

"And you were one of those experiments?"

"… that turned against your creators! Holy shit! This is a pre-war movie!"

"As campy as it may seem, that is unfortunately a fair comparison."

"You said they took out your brain? Then how are you…"

"The first part of my conversion to what I am now was a scan of my brain. That scan was then uploaded to the device that functions as my mind. We're not sure exactly how the technology works, but it is similar to the process House used to create the identities of his Securitrons, albeit much more advanced."

"So… wait a minute, your mind is a copy of a human brain? What happened to the original brain?"

"Because of my irradiated physiology, the drugs meant to keep me unconscious during the procedure wore off. I have no memory of what happened, as the scan that created my current awareness was already complete, but the brain experienced major parts of the surgery without any pain-numbing drugs. After the operation, Mobious – the sixth scientist and only one to survive – retrieved it and placed it into a device similar to the ones he and the other Think Tank members used. It was… unresponsive."

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"No. Please… Stop. I can't. Please, kill me."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Hmm? Oh… well… the poor thing awoke during the middle of the surgery and… such fragile things, you see… if I hazard a guess it simply couldn't withstand the pain and-"

"Is there anything you can do?"

"I've tried everything, but… just seemed to make things worse. Best to give it rest."

"It's in pain."

"Well… not entirely accurate. It thinks it's in pain! Without a body there is nothing actually causing physical… well… since it is just a brain, what it thinks is all it has… so… yes, it's in pain."

"Can you stop it?"

"I haven't the heart. Oh, putting it out of its misery is the most humane… I can't bring myself to though."

"That's me… that's my mind."

"I think you are it, and that's its body… though I suppose the phrasing is semanti-"

"What can you tell me about the scanning process?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. It was Dala's pet-project and until you… well… it never worked quite right. Poor souls – the Lobotomites who wander around – are failures of her experiment."

"So what am I; a copy?"

"Do you feel like a copy?"

"No… but I don't feel the same either."

"Well… regardless of who you are now… it can never go back to being you. Wait… I mean… no, no, that's right. It can never be you again."

"All it does is repeat the same phrases over and over?"

"Yes… it's… broken I'm afraid, and I can't fix it."

"So what happens now?"

"I haven't the heart… but if one were to press this button here I think… well… I think it would be for the best."

"Euthanize it?"

"It's in agony. I wish… I wish I could but… oh, I'm sorry."

"…"

"Make it stop. Please… Kill me. I ca-"

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"So what are you?"

"I'm not sure if I'm the best person to ask."

"No fucking jokes. What are you?"

"Cass…"

"No, she's right, I apologize. In the end, I'm the result of an experiment meant to copy the mind of an individual and place it into a modified body that emulates a human being.

"A synopsis: Physically, my spine and heart were replaced and the rest of my body was substantially augmented with additional implants. I am faster and stronger than a normal human being, and the Ghoul characteristics I have allow me to further increase my physical attributes with radiation. Mentally, I have a human's consciousness and memories, but with the comprehensive capabilities of a machine."

"How do you know you have a human consciousness?"

"In all seriousness, I'm not the best one to ask. What does it mean to be human? Is it the physical existence of a brain, or the abstract thoughts that go along with humanity? Mentally, I feel emotions and… honestly feel human… but I know in reality that awareness is a complex program meant to imitate life."

"Quick question, sorry, but why do you cough up blood after you are affected by radiation?"

"While irradiated, my body is forced into a hyperactive state. The longer I am affected, the more stress is put on my remaining biological organs and the greater chance they began to start hemorrhaging. One of the implants I was given is similar to the Monocyte Breeder that the Followers have available, so the damage is repaired before it becomes fatal, but it still takes time. For a period after the radiation has ceased, I am left in a weakened state."

"Why don't you replace the rest of your organs with artificial ones?"

"With the limited knowledge of my internal systems we have, creating an artificial organ that is compatible with the existing structure is almost impossible. Without removing the devices for study – an endeavor that would almost surely lead to my death – there isn't much we can learn."

"Wait… your feral condition started before the operation, but still happens after you were turned into a machine?"

"If we go with pre-war sci-fi, he's a cyborg. Part man, part machine. Man-chine."

"Thank you, Veronica. Yes, the feral condition continued after the upload, and like before, occurs after I have been knocked unconscious – or more accurately, deactivated – which suggests that it is a psychological phenomenon that was passed over during the brain scan. To be able to copy such a… 'unique' instability attests to the complexity of the technology."

"If you'll forgive my outburst – you're literally a 'cyborg' that goes fucking mental after it gets knocked out and runs around murdering anything it sees."

"Literally? Yes."

"And we're just supposed to trust you to run the Mojave?"

"Unless you have a better idea, yes."

"I can think of at least one…"

"Oh, you can? Then please, tell us, or better yet, do it. My mere existence puts you and everybody here in danger, but inaction on my part would have plunged the Mojave into chaos. The NCR never really cared about the people here, just the land and prestige. Caesar only saw his legacy and was willing to sacrifice anything to make it as he dreamed. House let Caesar's threats to destroy his 'perfect future' drive him mad and was willing to do anything to hold onto every scrap of the past in his reach. Everyone I have put down or pushed back only cared about their own view of the world and were willing to trample anyone who got in the way.

"I am broken, I am dangerous, but I am also the best chance this wasteland has at reaching anything even remotely resembling peace. It's not going to be pretty, and I don't even know for sure if it's going to work, but if you think I am going to sit by and do nothing just because my jury-rigged frame of mind is unstable, then fucking leave. I will not let my existence be controlled by the fear of what I am."

"Honestly not that different from us ghouls, when you think about it, and you smooth-skins live with us around well enough."

"It doesn't take a fucking nightkin to put down a feral ghoul, though."

"Depends on the ghoul. I bet I could give Lily a run for her money."

"How can you be so nonchalant about this?"

"Cass, you're pissed, and have a right to be, but you're taking it pretty personally. I'll go crazy one day and start eating the lot of ya – if you give me the chance. That's a fact. You know it, I know it, hell, I bet even Rex knew it when we were traveling together.

"He almost killed you. Yeah, that's pretty shit, but it's because of the safeguards he put in place that you're alive. Could it have gone better? No shit, but what in this world is perfect? Also, you're acting like he was the only one who almost killed you. If he hadn't gone loon'ish, Lanius would've shut you up fairly quickly. Take that feral thing out of the equation and you'd be in a bag with string wrapped around your big toe – assuming Lanius left a big toe."

"So I'm just supposed to forgive and forget?"

"To forgive is up to you but I would definitely try to keep from forgetting. Remember what happened, but just calm down and try to see it objectively. Hell, you're pissed at him for something he doesn't even have a say in. He didn't choose what happened to him, but he's still trying to do some good with it. Imagine how it must feel to know there is a chance you'll kill everyone you care about. Would you be up for trying to save anything?

"Starting to get preachy, but I'm an old man who's spent too much of his two hundred years doing nothing because of what I might do. He's trying to do something, and I'm not gonna let him waste his life like I wasted most of mine. Be pissed at his choice, be pissed at the situation, but stop attacking what he is like it will actually change anything."

Cass sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"Pretty spry talk for an older fellow," Veronica said quietly. "I don't think I've seen you like that before."

"Yeah, well, there's some spring to these old bones even if they just talk too much and bore pretty ladies," Raul said, smiling slightly.

"It wasn't boring… and you're right." Cass replied, continuing to rub her forehead as she turned her attention to the Courier. "Denn… what you did… I don't agree with, but I understand where you were coming from. We'd have failed without each other and Raul's right; if you hadn't gone feral Lanius would've gutted me like a spring-Brahmin. Don't get me wrong; it would be nice to have safeguards beyond Lily in the future, but it's wrong of me to put the blame on you."

"It is not all my fault, but I still share the blame," Denn said, bowing slightly to the redhead. "I cannot apologize enough for putting you in danger, but it was the best decision considering the circumstances."

"Your gizmo for a brain work that out with a series of calculations?" Cass asked.

"Yes, it did."

"Of course it did. You know, sometimes you've got to go with your gut instead of thinking about something too hard."

"You're not wrong, and I'll keep that in mind for the future. Now... if the smells coming out of the kitchen are any indication, Lily has finished cooking."

"That's right! You eat," Veronica said, squinting at the Courier questioningly. "A lot, too… do you have an implant that keeps you from gaining weight?"

"Well actually…"

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Report.

Hi there! How did the great reveal go?

Surprisingly... it went well. Raul managed to talk Cass down, and the others seemed to accept it readily enough. We're eating at the moment. What is the situation with the NCR?

They've set up camp and I've got the Securitrons racing around to keep them from getting an accurate count.

Good thinking. How is the situation at the dam?

There's a chance the more observant of the former slaves noticed how few Securitrons are actually there, but I put them in the visitor center pretty fast. They're helping with the wounded now. When do you want to move them to Vegas?

As soon as possible. Has there been any sighting of Legion scouts?

Not a single one.

Good. I'll send an eyebot to scout deeper into their territory. Hopefully we'll be able to keep the dam protected with the skeleton detachment for the immediate future.

No matter what we do, eventually the NCR will figure out we don't have as many Securitrons as you told them.

By that time we should be well on our way to building up a standing army. The NCR isn't going to risk a Vertibird on aerial reconnaissance, and as long as we keep them out of the dam, we can keep them thinking there's hundreds of machines waiting to hold off a Legion attack.

Really think the Legion won't launch a counter attack?

They will, just not soon. I'm going to do everything I can to keep them fighting amongst each other for as long as possible. There will always be survivors loyal to Caesar, but if I can put the selfish ones in control, they'll be more interested in their own power than a vendetta.

And they'll run the chance of becoming an even more ruthless warlord than Caesar. It's a volatile environment; don't fan the flames too much.

Fair enough.

Did Benny really keep the Strip together when the Securitrons left?

He did.

Huh... you think you know a guy.

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October 20th, 2281, 9:43 p.m.
The Tops Casino – New Vegas

The jokes were bad, but then they were always bad. Half the reason anybody came to the opener anymore was to heckle the performer, and the poor sod knew it.

"Have I told you the one about the super mutant rabbi?"

"No."

"And we'd appreciate it if you didn't."

Benny smiled as the comedian continued unabated. He was just there to loosen the audience up, and the kid could take a hell of a lot of punishment without bating an eye. He was a good find.

"Hey Benny, someone to see you."

"Thanks for the heads up," the former leader of the Tops said, tilting his head to the side and waiting. Heavy footsteps approached where he was sitting at the bar. "You here to rough up the place? Or is this just the monthly shakedown?"

"Just doing the rounds is all," the Courier said lightly. "After this I'm going to the Gomarah to let them practice sneaking up on me while Lady Stone stares a hole in my head."

"I'll never get why you put her in that place's lead."

"Personally, I'm a fan of outright animosity. I'd rather know someone hates me than have it sprung on me at a bad time. As long as we keep things civil, it's a relationship I can live with. How've you been?"

"Open doors, open bar, and I sleep back in my own suite. Who could ask for more? I was never a fan of the decor of this place, so I haven't much been missing the sight of it."

Denn laughed slightly and pulled up a seat beside Benny, shaking his head at the bartender as the man started to approach and gesturing that he work the other end of the bar. "I've come to ask for a favor."

"Really? Why don't you go see Swank? He's the head of the Chairmen now."

"Strictly business between me and him, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Ah… so this is the favor."

"This is the favor, yes."

"Was hoping you'd never cash that out."

"Only doing it because I have to."

"Uh-huh. You know, when I made that deal I never thought you could pull it off. Tortured, little-old me in the middle of the Legion and the fink I shot in the head a year before pops up and says he's getting me out of there? I wish I could have seen your face when you saw me kneeling there."

"Hey, don't go sentimental on me. Thinking about one of us kneeling and the other guy standing is giving me a headache…"

"Yeah yeah… I promise not to shoot you in the head again, alright?"

"I appreciate it, but unfortunately that's not the favor."

"Lay it on me."

"The legion is going to attack the dam in three days. I need every Securitron I have to deal with them and the NCR. Every Securitron."

"Uh-huh… your favor is asking me not to try and take control of the Strip?"

"I thought Swank was in control of the Chairmen? And no, the favor is asking you to keep the Strip under control. My Securitrons will help quell the initial chaos, but then for a day or two they'll be out in the Mojave keeping the peace. For that time, the Chairmen will be in control of the Strip, with twenty of my Securitrons at most coming back to the Lucky 38."

"What about the Followers?"

"Relatively, they're new to the area. You guys know the city – know how to keep it calm."

"Not to be philosophical, but I'm not the cat you first met… My big plan landed me as Caesar's personal torture doll. I don't want the strip anymore. You don't have to call in the favor for me to do this."

"I know. Hell, even if you took the strip you couldn't hold it, but that's not why I'm calling in the favor. Benny, we've enough of a history that I don't want you beholden to me for the rest of your life. This city is never going to prosper if the Chairmen only help me because they have to. I am not House, and I'm not looking for subordinates… I'm looking for partners. This isn't my city, this is our city, and I'm calling in this favor now so you'll stop thinking I'm just waiting to take control of everything later."

"Does that mean you'll stop taking a cut of our profits?"

"After the battle it will go down to twenty percent. Shortly after, you can knock that down to zero if you play your cards right. Vegas is too wild for a single player to run it all, you learned that the hard way."

"I did. Alright… we'll keep the Strip quiet until you get back."

"I appreciate it."

"Hey, think you'll run into Lucius at the dam?"

"Maybe."

"If you do, tell him I said hi."

"That's it? No dramatic message of vengeance?"

"Naw. Just say hi."

"Can do."