Chapter Forty

White Light

Trini grinned as she listened carefully to the conversation now taking place on the balcony. God, this week was perfect. Billy was back, not just physically, but really back. And now, so was Kimberly. They just had to wait for Tommy to return… but from the sounds of things, it wouldn't be long.

"Any way I can keep my pants?" he asked resignedly.

"Nope," Kimberly replied simply. Trini could hear her smiling smugly.

"Kim… come on. I'm going to have to go down to the lobby to get a key. I don't want to go without pants. The shirt is bad enough."

"You're not getting into that room with your pants."

"I can totally kick your ass if I have to, you realize that, right? Sparring is one thing, but if I have to lay into you, you're—"

"You could probably kick my ass, yes. If I didn't shove you off the balcony first. But Trini's on the other side of the door, and Kira's on our side now. One Pink and two Yellows? Not even the legendary Tommy would try. Especially not when standing two feet from death by asphalt."

"…What about Kira? Huh? You're totally traumatizing her. I thought you were her friend."

"Lucky for me, she's already locked herself in the bathroom. Give it up, Tommy."

"I like these pants!"

"And if you're a very good boy, I just might give them back one day."

"Kim…"

"Hey, you don't want to give them up, I can understand. That's fine. Go back and wait for Zack to open the balcony door. I'm sure he'll open that door eventually. Provided that Zack doesn't somehow get it into his head that it would be funny if you had to sleep on the balcony. And provided he doesn't doze off and forget you're out there. And provided none of the people staying in the rooms between mine and yours wake up and see you, at which point have fun explaining that to the cops. And—"

"Fine! Fine. I get the point."

Trini heard the jingling of a belt buckle, then a rustling noise, accompanied by a few noises that might have been stifled laughs. Then Tommy stalked through the room, face red by fixed in a permanent glare. "Not a word," he growled at Trini without bothering to look at her; taking pity on him, Trini held her laughter in until he'd slammed the door behind him.

Kimberly came into the room and shut the door, Tommy's pants held in one hand. "I can't help it," she muttered sheepishly. "It's just too easy."

They burst out laughing.

Jenny stared avidly at the small portable TV sitting on the hotel's front desk, down out of sight of the customers. She gaped in shock at the bulletin. Dr. Tommy Oliver… where had she heard that name before? One of the Power Rangers, uncovered at last!

"Excuse me."

She looked up, raised her eyebrows appreciatively, then forced herself to frown as she struggled to regain her professionalism while coolly regarding the man standing on the other side of the counter, who was wearing only boxers. "Sir, I understand that this is a hotel, and therefore akin to your own residence, but we ask that guests be properly clothed when outside their rooms. At all times." Even the hot ones like you, she added silently.

The man glared at her. "I apologize," he said stiffly. "But my 'friends' thought it would be funny to lock me out of my room. Rest assured, provided I managed to steal my clothes back, I'll take that rule to heart."

Oh. He's one of those, she thought, trying desperately not to giggle. "I understand, sir. It happens quite a bit. You'd like a spare key, I take it?"

"Would be nice," he replied through clenched teeth.

"Name?"

"Tommy Oliver."

She stared at him for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"Tommy Oliver. Dr. Tommy Oliver. What's wrong? I'm in 618. Zack Taylor, room's in his name, he was supposed to call about my switching rooms, half the bill for his room is supposed to be put on my account now, but maybe he forgot… are you okay?"

"Fine!" Jenny practically yelled. She continued to stare at him in pure unbridled shock, letting her hands automatically perform the task of recalibrating a room key to work for him. She handed it over with shaking fingers. "Please return it by morning. While clothed."

"Thanks," he replied dryly, and stalked off.

Jenny stared after him numbly. So that was the Black Ranger? Wow. Hot. A little standoffish, but definitely hot. And he was staying in her hotel!

She reached for the phone. She often tipped her friends off whenever a celebrity came to stay at the Angel Grove Inn—like Tanya Sloan, who had stayed at the Inn several times—but first on Jenny's list was always her best friend of over eleven years, whom she'd met way back in 1992 when they'd first started working in the sports department of the Sentinel together. She could only pray that Carrie wouldn't be too busy covering the story to answer the phone when Jenny called with the tip of a lifetime.

Conner and Zack will die… Conner and Zack will die… Tommy thought in pure fury as he jammed the keycard into the lock and shoved the door open. Conner and Zack, sitting side-by-side on Zack's bed—Conner in pajamas and Zack still in clothes, unlike Tommy—both of them with plastic spoons stuck in yellow canisters of Play-Doh, numerous empty cans littering the bed and floor around them. They both jumped and looked up in him in horror. Tommy waited expectantly for the fruitless screaming and running to start, so that Tommy could begin the stomping and crushing.

"Dr. O?" Conner said tentatively.

"Dude, didn't you have clothes on when you left?" Zack asked, frowning. "What happened to you?"

"You," Tommy said, his voice surprisingly even. "You happened to me, Zack. You and Conner happened to me."

"Dude, we did not take your clothes," Conner said, looking at Tommy as if Tommy was being stupid. Conner took another bite of Play-Doh.

"Tommy?" Zack said uncertainly. "You're not mad or anything, are you? I mean, it was just a harmless little joke, ha, ha…" He gulped.

"What do we do?" Conner whispered out of the corner of his mouth; he was also obviously sensing that Tommy was Not Happy.

"What do you think?" Zack replied. "RUN!"

They were smart. Oh, yes. They dove in opposite directions, Conner aiming straight for the door but Zack detouring over Tommy's bed, trying to sneak past him and hoping that he'd be able to get through the door while Tommy was strangling Conner. Tommy, unfortunately, was momentarily thwarted by wondering which of them to kill first. On the one hand, Conner had been annoying Tommy all year. On the other hand, Zack had been annoying him for a decade and was probably more to blame.

His moment of indecision cost him. He grabbed for Conner, missed, lunged at Zack, seized the back of Zack's shirt… but all he succeeded in doing was holding Zack back for a split second, just long enough that he and Conner didn't get stuck in the door while trying to go through at the same time. Conner made it through the door first, and then the cheap orange Wal-Mart clearance T-shirt Zack was still wearing ripped and Tommy was left holding an extremely long strip of fabric.

"What now?" Conner wailed as the two Play-Doh addicts bolted towards the elevator. "We can't run forever!"

"We don't have to!" Zack replied, panicking and deeply regretting that he no longer had the high school track team to keep him in practice for mad dashes to safety. "Just until he forgets why he's mad at us!"

"I heard that!" Tommy roared from behind them.

"OW!"

At first, Zack thought he'd been punched… but as he spun to defend himself, he glimpsed a yellow canister with a green lid tumble away across the hallway carpet. Looking up, he saw Tommy, face red and expression black, another canister of Zack's Play-Doh in his hand, about to be hurled with deadly accuracy. He was holding the entire case they'd yet to eat (save for the red, black and white)!

"Play-Doh as a projectile weapon!" Conner yelled in outrage, shaking his fist at Tommy, almost prepared to duke it out now. Almost. "That's low!"

The elevator doors opened. Without a word, Zack and Conner dove into it, just in time to avoid a rain of Play-Doh canisters. Exhausted, they sank to the elevator floor, Conner stabbing the button for the lobby.

"Dude, my whole life flashed before my eyes," Conner moaned.

"Hey, it didn't go that badly," Zack pointed out. "After all, I've got my car keys, so we can just go out for ice cream or something and when he's finally calmed down and gone to bed we can come back and pick up all the Play-Doh."

"Good point," Conner said, cheering up considerably.

"Stick with me, kid," Zack joked, "and you'll never be bored again."

"Dr. O?"

Tommy sighed and opened the door. "What, Trent?"

"Have you seen Conner?" Trent asked. "I think he took my toothpaste. Again. I tried following the trail of Play-Doh in the hall, but it dead-ended at the elevator."

Tommy shrugged. "Conner's with Zack."

Trent frowned. "Where'd they go?"

"Probably out to cause more chaos. Tormenting me wasn't enough. By the way, you might want to be extra nice to Kira tomorrow. She's had a rough night."

"Again?" Trent looked worried. "What happened to her this time?"

Tommy regarded him thoughtfully for a second, wondering if he could bring himself to explain… but of course, he couldn't. Trent was watching him carefully… almost suspiciously. Great. Just great. Thanks Kim, Tommy thought irritably.

"Why did I think I could actually have a normal vacation?" Tommy moaned. "I knew it wouldn't end well. My vacations never do."

"Come on, Dr. O, it's not that bad," Trent said consolingly.

"No, it really is. And it's gonna get worse," Tommy replied wretchedly. "You know what the last vacation I took was? Back in 2002. I was on spring break from school. I was working with Anton on that island. And Hayley called to say she had some time off from her job in Washington and would I like to go on a vacation with her. I said sure, and she handled all the reservations… which was how I ended up staying at Club Bulkmeier's. Hayley didn't know that 'Bulkmeier' was Bulk's real name." Tommy shuddered. "But I made the best of it. Tried not to stay in the club when I could. But then one day, Hayley and I were lounging by the pool. Just finished helping each other with the lotion. I'd finally gotten Bulk and Skull to stop pestering me by threatening to kick the crap out of him if they disturbed me again. I was just sitting there, reading the paper, minding my own business and of course Bulk comes over and tells me I have a phone call. Next thing I know, I'm rushing off to gather up every Red Ranger I can find and take them all to the moon." Tommy sighed heavily. "Then, of course, Trini comes out of nowhere, tries to kick my butt—the Red Rangers never looked at me and Jason the same way after she showed up—and then as I'm running away from the base to get some distance between me and Trini, Wes and Eric's battered SUV shows up and says they've got a new mission. To stop Ashley's wedding."

Tommy shook his head and moved to sit down on the corner of his bed. Trent shifted uncomfortably, feeling obligated to lend his ex-teacher a friendly ear, but, like Ethan, he wanted to get to sleep before Conner and his snoring returned.

"We do, of course. Nearly blow everything. Cops came, our identities weren't looking so secure, nearly had a heart attack when I saw Kim and had to keep hiding behind things… but I get done with that, and I return to Club Bulkmeier's, spend one more day with Hayley, and then I get a call that your stupid father's gone missing. So I have to return to the island. I get all paranoid, start ferrying all our research back to the house in Reefside. The next thing I know, I'm being chased all over the island by Tyrannodrones. Could have just left. Did I? No. Of course not. Had to get the other staff members to safety. There they are, telling me to get in the helicopter, but I can't. Nope. Not me. I have to save the Dino Gems. Got three of them in my pocket and then Tyrannodrones busted in and kicked me halfway across the room and then the alarms are blaring that the place is about to self-destruct—a nifty little security feature Anton didn't bother telling me about, by the way—and I have to leave the other two Gems and run like a bitch. That was the last day of what was technically my vacation. My last vacation ended with me being chased by lizard monsters and taking a lovely swim in the ocean to avoid being blown to smithereens. And as I'm swimming to shore, knowing I'll never actually make it to shore, I stop to rest, and what do I hear?"

Trent shifted again. "Well, if you haven't seen Conner, I'll just go get some sleep…"

There was a distant look in Tommy's eye, the sort of expression a veteran might wear when recounting his days in the war. "I hear singing. Not good singing. Not even a real song. It was to the tune of 'When the Saints Go Marching In.' I still remember every word. 'Oh when the monkeys, come to kill us all, oh when the monkeys come to kill us all, oh yeah you bet I'll run really really fast (like a bitch) oh when the monkeys come to kill us all! Kill you all! Oh yeah you better run I'm gonna kill you all!'"

Trent stared at him. "Um… Dr. O… maybe you need to be alone…"

"I remember pausing, and blinking, and staring straight ahead as I thought, 'My god, this is it. I've finally cracked. I'm really and truly crazy now. I'm hearing voices. Singing voices. I've lost my freaking mind.' And then a rowboat ran right over my head. Right over my head, Trent. I had to swim after the boat and grab it, scared the woman half to death. There she was, all frizzy hair and bare feet and tie-dyed T-shirt, strumming an acoustic guitar, straight from Woodstock complete with the acid trip and I thought, 'Yep, this is proof, I've lost it.' But for some reason I still had a will to live, and I asked her to help, and she hauled my ass into the boat. Told me I was welcome to come with her to Norway. I told her she was pointed at Hawaii, and she sighed and said she must have gotten lost again and asked if I wanted a ride to somewhere in the direction of Norway."

"Not all Rangers end up having lives as weird as yours, right?" Trent asked desperately, well aware of the fact that people kept comparing him to Tommy.

Tommy didn't hear him. "All she had in the rowboat was toilet paper, sun block, a large supply of clean women's underwear, a bunch of raw spaghetti noodles and a lot of Diet Cherry Coke. All I had for company for the next few days was a slightly schizophrenic woman and a soggy copy of the Cleveland Yellow Pages. I was too exhausted to row at first, between the fighting and the running and the swimming. Once I got my strength back, I started rowing like hell. Finally made it to a marina not far from Reefside, convinced the schizophrenic chick to come with me—she was starting to grow on me, you know? She saved my life. And she was amusing, in a 'what the hell is wrong with you' sort of way. Anyway, we hitchhiked back to Reefside with one of the families in the marina, and I collapsed in my apartment, thinking the whole thing was finally over. But was it? No. No, I rested, and I gave my new friend the guest room, and I did all those things you do when you haven't been home in ages. Shower. Drink coffee. Play with the refrigerator magnets. Read the paper. Then dumb-ass me has to call Hayley to ask how her flight back to Washington was and the next thing I know she's storming into my house. Turns out she came back from Washington because she thought my corpse is floating around in the ocean and Lightspeed Rescue is helping my friends search for me, and since my friends shouldn't know Lightspeed Rescue they're all risking our identities so oops. Then she informs me that she'd been worried sick and thought I was dead and how dare I do that and blah, blah, blah, and she about beat me up before I finally got her calmed down."

"Well, she is kinda tough," Trent said. "Almost killed me with a microphone stand once."

For reasons unknown, this penetrated the fog of memory surrounding Tommy. "Why'd she do that?"

Trent shrugged. "Long story. Anyway… wait. Hayley beat you up?"

"Well, no. I just wasn't fighting back. Then it became apparent that I needed to get her off me or die. And right around then, the schizophrenic woman came to my rescue."

"Did she have a name?" Trent asked.

"She had about six. Usually, I called her Diane. It was the shortest name she had. Anyway, she came skidding into the room with a spaghetti noodle in her teeth and the Cleveland Yellow Pages in her hands and screamed 'Behold your doom in the Phone Book of Righteousness' and right about then Hayley realized that she was definitely missing the whole story and just sort of patiently waited for me to explain myself." He shook his head ruefully. "And that's how I ended up teaching in Reefside. Hayley lost her job because she'd taken off without permission, not two days after her vacation. Since I had Anton's house to live in, she bunked with Diane in my guest bedroom until Hayley got the idea for the cyber café. Diane was actually the first employee Hayley ever had. Did a real good job, except for her problem with always having to sing 'Oh When the Monkeys Come to Kill Us All' every two hours on the hour. Anyway, Hayley immediately started making connections and networking and discovering things about the town that even the town historian didn't know, and then she hooked me up with Councilwoman Sanchez's daughter, who was good friends with the superintendent of schools and heard about the job and told them I'd be perfect. So at least I got a job out of it before yet another girlfriend dumped me to move far, far away and follow her dream. This one went to Cambodia. Peace Corps or something like that. Whoo. Happy Tommy."

Trent, who found this all mildly disturbing, found himself also fighting the urge to laugh. "Whatever happened to Diane?" he asked.

"Disappeared one day, left a note saying she was going to head to New York and try again for Norway, now that she had directions printed off the Internet from the café. Took all of my boxed pasta and my phone book with her." Tommy looked sad for a moment, as though remembering the day his puppy had run away from home. "She sends me postcards from Finland sometimes. What is it with every woman I know leaving California? Hayley left, Trini left, Aisha left, Kim left, Kat left… it's just not fair. I mean, yeah, Diane was a little too psychotic to date, but still. She was my friend. Tanya's my only friend who hasn't left California since I met her, and she's always traveling anyway. Aisha, Trini, even Hayley…"

Trent swallowed, thinking of Kira, who had been talking about moving to New York now that school was over. He cleared his throat. "What about Lightspeed? How'd you explain that all your friends were searching for you with random Power Rangers?"

Tommy snorted. "T.J. was with them. He told reporters that he knew Lightspeed and asked them to help, that I was an old buddy he'd met back in Angel Grove when I'd been racing stock cars and as soon as he heard I was missing he asked Lightspeed to help. It was a good enough excuse for most." He shook his head. "Anyway, that's what vacations lead to. And I should have known. I really, really should have known!"

"Yeah," Trent said with a shrug. "You should have. You should have missed seeing all your old friends, some of which you haven't seen in years, and stayed at home where Conner and Ethan and Kira and I, no longer forced to attend class, could torture you all day, every day, all summer, with nothing else to occupy our time and even hanging out with Hayley meant you'd have to see us because she owns our hangout, where I also happen to work. And when you couldn't take us anymore, you could go hang out with my dad. He and Principal Randall are in that phase where they hug me randomly. For no reason at all. And they smile a lot. And they giggle." Trent shuddered.

Tommy stared at him. "You've really put things into perspective for me, Trent."

Trent grinned at him. "You know, Ethan occasionally rants about the similarities between people of the same color uniform. Blues are the smart ones. Pinks are the girly ones. Reds are the… they're them. And I asked him, 'So what are the White ones?' And he didn't have an answer. But I think I get it now. We're the coping ones. The world goes mad around us, Dr. O, and we cope."

Tommy blinked, realization dawning. "I was White the longest, you know."

"Get some sleep, Dr. O. It won't seem as terrible in the morning. Tomorrow something worse'll happen."

"Thanks," Tommy said, and he truly meant it.

Then Tommy's pants floated into view next to Trent, kept aloft by a slim thumb and forefinger, pinching the very edge of the hem of one of the legs, as though the bearer of his pants was determined not to touch them. The pants were flung into Tommy's chest, revealing Kira behind them.

"They were staring at me," she whimpered.

"Sorry," Tommy replied calmly.

Kira turned to Trent, regarded him thoughtfully for a second, then threw her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could. Startled, Trent hugged her back, undaunted by this strange appearance.

Then Kira kissed him once, short but sweet, and wandered away. Trent smiled after her for a second, then turned back to Tommy.

"Well… goodnight, Trent," Tommy said serenely.

Trent raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so, pal. What's my girlfriend doing with your pants?"

Carrie gaped at the TV, seething in anger. She'd returned home after her discussion with Walter, hoping to get a few hours sleep before she had to follow up the story in the morning… and then this. Damn!

How had this happened? Had the cops squealed? No, they wouldn't have. She'd pointed them towards proof; why leak half-truths until they knew they could get the truth? Besides, they knew Tommy Oliver wasn't the Black Ranger. They were on the right track; that was why she'd intervened.

Carrie pulled out her cell phone. Over the years, Ex No. 2 had become… well, he'd become her bitch. She had initially been annoyed by his persistence in asking her out, until she'd realized the merits of having a lapdog. As long as she stayed single, Ex No. 2 was willing to feed her information on his patients—nothing breaching patient confidentiality, but he certainly wasn't above telling her that the guy she was looking to interview was in room 328 with a gunshot wound to the shoulder. He'd been willing to give her quotes when the hospital had that horrible scandal back in 2000. And he'd been willing to treat minor injuries and illnesses so that she wouldn't have to pay for doctor's visits. He'd even been supplying her with free Q-tips and Band-aids. Now, he'd better to be willing to explain why every TV station in Angel Grove had her story.

"Hello?"

"I can't believe you leaked this to everyone else!" Carrie roared. "How could you? I told you not to tell anyone—"

"I didn't! Carrie, everyone here knows something's up! The ambulance guys were going on and on about getting to see the Black Ranger and the Johnson guy was ranting about Tommy Oliver, everyone's talking, Carrie! Reporters are everywhere, showed up right after you left, I think—"

"I don't care what you think. Shut up and let me think." Carrie took a deep breath, swallowing hard. She wasn't going to let this story go to hell. Not on her watch.

"Okay. Try to sidle up to a reporter next chance you get. Someone big-time. Tell them that this is all ridiculous. Mistake. Tell them that Walter didn't say Tommy Oliver was a Ranger, just that Tommy hit him back in high school for being rude to Tommy's girlfriend, whose purse he tried to steal tonight. Tell them all he said was that he should have known better than to target Tommy's girlfriend, because that always led to him getting hit, just like when Tommy beat him up back in high school, and the rumor mill around the hospital twisted everything around. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sure. I promise, Carrie. I'll make sure it works out."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks. Afterwards, guard Walter's door and don't let anyone in. I don't care if the president shows up and asks you to move, no one gets through that door."

"Right. But…"

"What?"

"Carrie, what's going on? Is this Oliver guy a Ranger or not?"

"Of course not. Come morning, I'm going to have a great story while everyone else is retracting their nonsensical babble about the Black Ranger. Just do it, okay?"

"Right. Oh, hey, what are you doing Saturday?"

"I'm covering Power Rangers Day," Carrie replied through gritted teeth. Nothing if not tenacious, Ex No. 2. "Go. Lie, and guard. Comprende?"

"Gotcha. Bye."

Carrie hung up. Before she could stuff the phone back in her purse, it began buzzing and ringing. She hit the send button without bothering to see who it was, assuming it was him again. "What?" she demanded.

"Carrie! Girl, you aren't going to believe this! The Black Ranger is staying here, at the hotel!"

"What?" Carrie shrieked.

"That Tommy Oliver guy they're talking about on TV, he's staying here, room 618. He got locked out a couple minutes ago and came to get a spare key. Girl, he is fine. Little rude, but definitely fine. He was wearing—"

"I don't care what he was wearing! Have you told anyone else this?"

"Of course not. You know I always call you first. Who got you that exclusive with Tanya Sloan, eh?"

"Thank god. Okay. I need you to delete his name from any records you have."

"What? Why? I can't just erase him; he's got a bill to pay, you know!"

"Find a way."

Carrie could practically hear her best friend frowning, in addition to the noise of Jenny's fingers flying over the keyboard. "Let's see… ooh! His bill is charged to a credit card in the name of Anton Mercer, whoever that is. Mercer corroborated Oliver's story, charges going through fine… I could remove Oliver's name and replace it with Mercer's. Say it must've been a computer error if he asks."

"Wonderful! Do it."

"Why?"

"Because every other reporter in Angel Grove is going to start calling every hotel in the area looking for him, and I need to make sure that no one finds out he's at the Angel Grove Inn."

"…Are you trying to hide him or something?"

"I'm trying to make sure I get a scoop."

"Oh. You didn't have me do this for Tanya Sloan."

"That was different. Look, please, would I steer you wrong?"

"No. All right. I'll do it."

"Thanks. How late are you working?"

"Until noon. I'm getting some killer overtime this week; we're booked solid."

"Good. Let me know if he leaves. I'll be there in the morning. Anyone calls to ask about him, pretend to look him up and then inform them that you don't have anyone named Oliver staying at the Inn. Is Kimberly Hart staying there too?"

"Hart… Hart…" The sound of typing filtered through the phone once more. "Yeah. Room 640."

"Don't delete her name, but if people call asking for her, lie about her, too, okay? Come morning, I'll talk to Oliver and have this all sorted out by the afternoon edition."

"Fine. But if you get his number, let me know, will you? He was hot. And a Power Ranger. Talk about—"

"He's not a Power Ranger, Jenny."

Jenny was silent for a moment. "You sure?"

"Yes. I'm very sure."

"You have a real soft spot for Power Rangers. Especially the old ones. Ever since that day the Red came to talk to you… can't believe I called in sick…"

"You had food poisoning. Get over it, would you? Listen, I know what I'm doing. I'm going to have a killer story out of all of this. But I need your help. Okay? Call me if he leaves the hotel. Watch the door like a hawk."

"Okay. I gotta go, though, these two creepy guys are sitting in the lobby eating Play-Doh and it's freaking me out. I'm going to have to make them leave."

"All right. Call me if something happens, okay?"

"I will, girl. Good luck on the story."

"Bye."

Carrie breathed a sigh of relief as she hung up her phone, glancing up at the wall, where her very first article was hanging in a red picture frame.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. In a few short hours, at a decent hour of the day, she would go see Dr. Oliver… and answer the question she'd been asking since the day that sad man in a red superhero costume had sat on her desk.

Angel Grove wanted to know who the Power Rangers were… but she was one step ahead. Every reporter wanted to be the best, the first to get the greatest stories… and she was about to be.

End Notes: WHOO! We hit one thousand reviews! Thanks to everyone who reviewed throughout this story. Can't tell you how much we're grinning. Congrats to Oriana47, our one thousandth reviewer!

And, to make good on our ransom notein the last chapter, this is your update. We'll probably have the next up soon.

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