Alright. It's updae time. I hope the notification finds you.
Ken was probably too used to tension hanging over his head like a cloud. That said a lot when it almost came as shocked relief how smoothly the next week went by – more than it had any right to. It was a nice consolation in light of what could have been. Granted, Juri and Eliza didn't actually converse with each other.
A simple look was the only form of acknowledgment, and it did nothing to the frigid atmosphere. Thankfully, it never exceeded anything beyond tepid glances. Suppose getting into any kind of serious conflict from opposite sides of a wall, a door or a table with two mediators was difficult.
Especially when one was still healing from attempted murder and the other got bouts of morning sickness.
They didn't talk about each other either – thankfully. Otherwise, Ken would have to stuff his ears with cotton and not think of his school days catching wind of teenage girl cliques and their endless gossip. Grown women had a nice way of handling their conflicts, had they not?
Ken remained vigilant, even when he went out for recon – alone but he enjoyed their presence all the same. Beyond bonding with Mel, there was a continuation of his coexistence with Juri even if her sudden onset of morning nausea caused an air of concern that confused even her. And then, there was the process of learning to have a friendship with Eliza, even if something more had changed within her.
He ought to ask her what when all of this was over – maybe even persuade her when she'd shake her head and claim that all was fine for the nth time. It was all quiet conversations about family friends, church services, ex-in-laws, and reminiscences of playful memories. Ken was unfortunately astute enough to see it was a bid to not talk about anything real. He only allowed it because Eliza tended to look so absolutely, utterly miserable when she thought he wasn't looking. Not concussed. And that was concerning.
Her wounds healed but something inside of her did not and Ken wondered if ideally a therapist or a trauma counselor should have been involved somewhere along the line.
It was easier to talk to her privately when Juri got along with Mel quickly, knife lessons and taekwondo training included. It just didn't make those talks easier when Eliza wouldn't let Ken in. So he didn't press her. Not yet. He wouldn't before he had reached a headspace where he could shoulder the pain of yet another person.
And that would have to be when all of this was over. As much as he, yes, still cared about her in that lingering human empathetic mother-of-only-child way, he couldn't fix her when he was treading water himself.
And then there was Juri.
Juri, who now clicked her tongue against the lollipop in her mouth after skipping breakfast entirely. She had slept in, then spent the morning quietly observing Ken arrange notes, draw maps, and circle dates in a calendar. Thanks to Eliza's information, they had gathered good insight into JP's quarters. So Ken would have to breach its defenses while Juri remained on standby, moving when the protesters would strike.
"That should be it. Looks like there's going to be a blackout on the day of the tournament after all," Ken concluded while he sank into the chair, closing his eyes against evenings of surfing the dark web for conspiracy forums.
Juri nodded a little sullenly in a way that left him gaping at her ever so slightly. It had been another morning of sickness that caused him to ask; "You okay?"
"Huh? No, I'm fine, Kenuske," she uttered a little defensively. "It's a full-on assault so I can't just back down. I gotta see this to the end. Besides, you'll need a dragon when you're going against the not-head of state."
"You're right but…"
But he didn't like saying that. His reluctance caused her face to scrunch up in defiance and he shook his head, sipping on his coffee and trying to come up with his own theories regarding Juri's health. It rattled him that it was so sudden and only affected her.
A thought crossed his mind like a flash but he failed to recognize it before it was gone. Familiar.
"It's happening soon. We'll take it from there. One less thing for you to worry about," Juri pulled the lollipop out of her mouth with a gentle reassurance into the unhappy musing silence.
Ken wanted to trust her on this, willing himself to understand, quietly telling her that he wasn't upset with her – per se. He put the mug down and scrubbed his face with his hands, letting out a long, steadying breath. One less thing to worry about now. There was a whole mountain of issues to be untangled after the end of this – assuming it was the end. The silence continued to stretch until Juri sighed through her nose, brushed her feet against his shins, and asked an innocent question.
"Where are you gonna go afterward?"
Ah. That wasn't actually something Ken had given much thought. It was another issue onto the pile but probably a lot easier to handle. He stared at the ceiling for a bit, thankful for a reprieve.
"Well, I ought to pick up my things from the estate. We owned one but obviously, I can't live there anymore. But I'll be nearby for Mel's sake. So…America."
Saying that he saw the concern on Juri's face. Just visible enough by the unspoken implication of Eliza's continued involvement. But she didn't protest so he thought his words over and tried again – even with the slight feeling that he felt like such a failure for not doing what he forced his father to do.
"It's like…my parents' marriage almost fell apart so I became a hellion for a bit to make them focus on something else. It pains me a lot that Mel doesn't have that opportunity so the least I can do for him is to let him know that I'm here for whenever he needs me. It's better than fighting with Eliza constantly."
It was sappy and corny, but Juri still smiled at it, just faintly. She leaned back in her chair and tossed a lollipop his way. A cheeky gesture for a sweet thought. Then said, rather candidly; "You know, I think my old folks would have liked you. They were super traditional though, so they'd have to consent to me even holding your hand. Things would get messy with Mel though."
"If it's any solace, my dad was hard on Eliza too. I don't think he'd be much inclined to be buttered up by you either. Thought I should've married someone who was like my mom. A Yamato Nadeshiko," Ken reached for the lollipop – a cherry flavor that went horribly with the aftertaste of coffee.
"Ugh," she grimaced. "That's very Freudian."
Ken couldn't help it. He blurted out a laugh, fully aware of his corruption by dark, tasteless jokes. He leaned over the table, aimlessly playing with the candy wrapping. "Yeah, well. A Yamato Nadeshiko is an ideal woman – for some. Gentle, poised, graceful but shrewd like you wouldn't believe it. And you wouldn't; she hides her intelligence and uses it as a weapon when she sees it fit."
"So, what does it make me?" Juri asked with feigned innocence. "I'm not exactly a dainty little wallflower or whatever."
"A spider lily. The electric blue ones. A flower of truth and stability," Ken answered with sincere gratitude. It surprised her that he didn't pick the red one, but he couldn't comfortably attribute it to her. Still, the fact that she tilted her head and hummed with musing thought, reaching for her phone to look up the species of flower was a nice reaction.
The tournament was fast approaching like a freight train, and it allowed underlying issues to be pushed aside but still looking over Ken's shoulder while he pushed the door open to the balcony. The radiant streetlights were like a bush filled with fireflies at night and it made Nayshall look quite beautiful. It reminded Ken of his wedding night.
That day, he too had been peering over the city skyline with Eliza.
"Tomorrow is the end to it all," she mused, glancing away from the light, so placid it was unfitting for something this seismic.
Ken nodded with a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. I'll bring you the scoop when it's done. Will probably make a few calls afterward so expect a few familiar faces soon -maybe."
"I look forward to it."
Then silence.
"Anything you need? You know, before I go?" he asked.
She shook her head, ever so taciturn in a way that was so uncharacteristically not her. Like some creature from one of Saturn's moons had crawled into her skin but struggled to capture her personality. And Ken couldn't really discern her mood. Not like he used to. And so, he settled for the nervous tick of small talk.
"You plan to sell the estate? I mean, I don't mind if you do. I'll have to drop by to pick up some of my things anyway though."
In response, Eliza closed her eyes and lifted her brow with a strange smile. "What if I don't?"
"Then don't," Ken answered, suddenly so exasperated with the mind games. Hopefully, the shock of Juri's presence would pass soon. Then again, the heart worked in mysterious ways.
And then what after this?
"I'm sorry. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing all of you," he admitted after another terse silence. Balancing Eliza's need for familiarity and Mel's need for reconnection with Juri's need for belonging. Balancing the emotional needs of the three who only sought it from him. He tried his best but with the heap of issues on the horizon, he wondered if he did it well.
Guilt made him conclude he was hurting all of them.
"I know," Eliza opened her eyes to look at him. "I can see how skittish you've become."
There was such sorrow in her eyes like she was slowly accepting and processing that the man she once married was no more. She turned her head to the windows of the common room, her body tensing up at the sight of – well, Ken didn't need to look for answers.
He turned his head anyway, looking at Juri and Mel playing card games while Eliza asked; "She's been sick?"
"Occasional morning sickness. I wonder if it's nerves. Which is strange because she's more edgy about friendships than street fighting. Maybe it's Mel."
Eliza only hummed softly.
It must have stung a little to hear the suggestion of Mel getting a potential stepmother. He, like all kids really, had no say in this and he was the last person in the world who deserved to be caught in the middle of it. But he took it well.
"I hope we get to be fulfilled when all of this is over," Eliza said at last and Ken nodded. Not necessarily happy. Just fulfilled. That was better than nothing.
"Me too."
It was midday when the tournament began, filling the entire city with an air of excitement – while willfully ignorant of the chaos that happened just a week prior. That disturbed Ken but he didn't let it deter him. He could hear it from here however, traversing through overgrown forest terrain with a pep in his step that reminded him of his youth.
So far, so good. At least one thing was going right.
Despite the adventure Ken was embarking on, he was feeling better. With Juri not partaking in the tournament, he didn't ponder over her as much as he was just overall thankful for some time away from trying to keep his head above water. Not having to be perfectly stable for others did wonders to clear his mind and boost his resolve. No longer was he plagued by a constant fear of doing something wrong ending in him losing one or all three of them.
If things went well, if the weight on his shoulders was gone, maybe Ken could manage.
For an emergency exit, it sure was located rather isolated despite the long staircase and its sturdy iron guard rail. Emergency services couldn't come here so easily and it made Ken wonder if it was easy for evacuations. According to Eliza, it had just been one of many – one that was the easiest to reach. Ken reached the end of the staircase, under the hood of the cave, and headed for a black door with an OAD that stood under an unlit emergency sign.
With the tournament going smoothly, Ken got to work. He kneeled in front of the door and stuck a pair of picking wrenches into the lock, twisting and turning until he heard a sound click and the door popped open, swinging outwards. Under the glare of a flashlight, Ken could make out the shape of a corridor in the dark, descending downwards. He looked up at the corners of the corridor for alarms and cameras before heading down the stairs, listening to the tiniest of sounds.
Heartbeat, breathing, otherwise quiet.
Ken reached a door at the end of the stairs, spotting light slip through the gap by the floor. He stopped and watched for shadows, watching them pass so slowly it made his heartbeat skip. It was a little easier in the dark and a flashlight to gather his weapons. He wouldn't have to use the crowbar for the door – he just needed it to dispose of guards. Just in case. He couldn't afford a full-on fight with them; he needed that strength for JP.
In the absence of shadows, Ken tried the door handle with one hand, slowly, steadily, finding it unlocked, clutching the crowbar in the other. It made him shiver, with goosebumps breaking out across his skin. And then, the light died.
The power outage!
Ken pushed down the handle, pushed the entire thing open, slipped into more darkness, and walked the path Eliza had laid out for him in utter silence. If he was going to get jumped, he wanted it to happen when his breath wasn't caught in his chest. He allowed himself a quiet sigh which he hardly heard over the blood rushing in his ears. Ken stalked down the corridors, letting the crowbar rest on his shoulders so he could easily whack someone if necessary.
He thought of Eliza and the comments she made about the candidly minimalist aesthetic JP settled for – in a way that contrasted the more extravagant outer shell of the arena. And Bison really. It was such a pointless thought, but it helped the nerves at confronting the man. What to say. What to do. How to fight. The late leader of Shadaloo was easy to read because he was the absolute antithesis of subtle. His thoughts, his feelings, his personality, his motives – all laid bare through his vainglory. His power and ambitious control of said power made him a threat.
JP was an enigma. That was all there was to it.
Ken pulled out his phone to check pictures of a map, he had been drawing up, making sure he was going in the right direction – getting startled by a text from Juri that read; "It's an absolute goat fuck up here. Protesters and rebels everywhere. We're going in by the way. Won't be quiet either."
What did she-
An explosion caused the entire structure to quake, and the rumble was just about close enough for Ken's heart to do an eagle death spiral at the discord. Crap, fuck. Okay. Fine, fine. He had a lot of questions dying to be answered – and maybe even bit of a bone to pick with Juri after this. Mingling with the rebels was not what they had planned but that was an ass-chewing for later.
He hurried his pace, not sure if he should be thankful or concerned at the lack of noise within the corridors, checking the occasional door's locks. He picked them when he felt secure enough to do so. Prying them open with a crowbar would just be drawing unneeded attention. Just as he pushed another door open, he heard something; footsteps. A single set. One person. They walked slowly, clicking harshly against the linoleum floor.
High heels. Most likely a woman and not a guard. Unless JP had a thing for his security detail wearing stilettos.
Ken slipped into the room and pushed the door's gap to a bare minimum while the woman walked closer. There happened to be a glass panel at head level, so he had to stand next to the doorframe with his palm planted on its hard wooden surface.
A white glare from a flashlight poured into the room in waves and Ken had hoped she'd walk by. She did not. She pushed the door open, shoving at it but stumbled forward, falling over what turned out to be a trashcan and landing on her stomach. The flashlight dropped to the floor and rolled a few feet away from her.
Before the woman could compose herself, Ken closed the door and zoomed over to her with the speed of a cheetah, putting the crowbar on the floor. She was kneeling when he grabbed her by the arm and put a hand over her mouth, gentle yet firm against her mad flailing and thrashing. Judging from her strength, she was not a fighter.
"Be quiet. I don't want to hurt you. I'm here to see JP," he whispered with enough urgency to cut through whatever bullshit she'd suspect. She relaxed enough to make Ken pull his hand away from her mouth. He hated he had to do this, but he wasn't going to risk getting fucked over by some poor secretary stuck in dark corridors either.
"Huh? Then…are you a part of the resistance? Are you here to stop him?" the woman asked with hope, and it caused Ken to flinch.
"Yes, but I'm on my own."
He could hear her smile with a sigh of relief. "I see. I'm Kalima – his assistant. I want to stop him too."
Don't be jaded. Believe in the good that exists in this world. Against Ken's backed-animal-in-corner instincts, he chose to believe her and let go of her arm. She crawled over to the flashlight and aimed the glow down her body, brushing herself clean; black heels, white jacket, grey shirt, white pants. Professional.
Outwardly harmless.
"Just to be sure. How do I know you're not about to shoot me dead?" Ken asked as he reached for the crowbar. "How do you know I won't kill you?"
"Well first off, you wouldn't have said that if you intended to harm me. Secondly, I only got one weapon," Kalima opened her jacket and pulled out a dagger. A blade twice the size of Juri's pocketknife. "JP is a disgrace to Nayshall. He's ruining our nation. We have to stop him."
"True but why are you here?" Ken asked against his impulses to chase after JP.
"I cut the power supply so my allies could sneak in. I'm here to coordinate the attack. How did you break in?"
"Emergency exit door in the cave. Picked the lock which was unnaturally easy to do."
Kalima's eyes darkened with understanding and a little mirth, a nervous smile forming at the thought of that for reasons, Ken didn't know. "Oh. That. Yes, I had all emergency exits installed as such when we retrofitted this place. Rather, they are escape routes for JP. The Resistance will meet him there."
"So, what's going on upstairs?" Ken asked, equally amused. Would explain the ease of getting in.
Kalima was calm as she answered. "Explosions to disrupt the tournament."
He couldn't help but bristle at that, given what had happened recently. "Did you know about the shootings? Car bombs?"
"Yes, although that was not us. I suspect it might have been orchestrated as a weapon test by whatever criminal enterprise JP is involved with. Would be easy to pin on protestors."
One of many.
"Sounds counterproductive," Ken said and stood up, listening for any noise.
Kalima responded after a short pause. "Unfortunately, it is far more clear-cut. He views the world as a chess game and treats it like such for more power. His methods reflect that much."
Ken figured that much. He felt inclined to pour out his heart to her, regarding his own mission. But given JP's track record, shell companies, and whatever goddamn crime against humanity the man had under his rap sheet, framing someone for terrorism to get his hands on a company was much lower on the immorality totem pole. At least Eliza could look for other buyers, now that she was aware of who she was doing business with. And Ken weighed in elsewhere.
"Human trafficking and smuggling withstanding."
"…Yes," Kalima answered in surprise and admiration at his knowledge. "I've been keeping quiet and gathering intel for long now and it will all be paid back. But first, I gotta make a few calls."
Ken let her do that, keeping watch when not searching the room for anything useful. There was none – just papers, pens, and a table with plastic flowers on top. A tiny meeting room, the likes of which Ken hated. He listened not to Kalima giving directions and coordinates, only shushing her when he thought he heard footsteps coming down the hallway.
"Let's hurry," Kalima finally announced once she was done.
She didn't need to say that twice.
Ken let her take the lead while they traversed the dark corridors because Kalima knew her way around the area better than he did. They did not speak a word to each other, nor did they encounter anyone else. The sounds and quakes continued but they were like white noise for Ken. They ascended a long staircase and came into another, little less noise-canceling corridor, heading down its length and took a detour through a cramped passageway.
"Wait here," ordered Kalima firmly, brushing her hair and clothes before opening the door. Ken drew a steadying breath and did as told, watching her slip through the opening from the shadows. Watching light pour out of the gap.
It appeared to be a throne room, Ken concluded once his vision adjusted to the glare. Lovely, it was. Wide with pillars that stood on polished tile floors with a spotless, sprawling carpet in between. Not so much a ballroom as Eliza had described it unless it was multipurpose. High to the ceiling as well given the echoes Kalima's heels made.
But why was there light when power to the whole structure had been cut? Suppose JP had installed an emergency generator for situations just like this. Ken moved to the gap in the door and realized that he was nowhere near the main entrance to this room – probably for the best.
He could hear the thunderous rush of the waterfall which could only mean that they were above ground. Yet he still caught the conversation between Kalima and JP, unable to see either of them from his position.
"Anything to report on the power outage?" JP asked gently. If he was panicked at all, he hid it with steely determination.
"No, sir. I couldn't find the cause. But the halls are empty so we should remain safe while we wait for the authorities."
"I see," the old man mused. He was an enigma. "And your friends that you collab with?"
A shiver ran up Ken's spine at the underlying threat in that question. He had never met anyone quite so striking in his intimidation as JP and that said a lot when Bison used to exist. That in itself was a terrifying, soul-crushing fact.
Kalima staggered and stepped backward. "Sir, what are you talking about?"
JP didn't answer her, apparently walking around with his cane droningly tapping against the floor. Not in Ken's direction but just the possibility caused his heart to slam against his sternum. The old man's walk was thorough, booming, authoritative in a way that demanded attention. Even when they had first met, there was something about him that drew Ken in.
Against his advisors and the rest of the board even.
Now, JP stepped into view, looking ahead, then turned around to face his assistant. His expression was a fog; unreadable, mysterious, placid. Regal in the way his cane stood in front of him.
"We are not alone, are we? That's quite alright. I had a feeling, things would end like this," he answered so calmly in a way that made Ken flinch. He shifted his eyes to the gap, to Ken in the shadows. "Did you as well, Masters?"
Horror. All Ken could feel was horror.
A faint hum came from JP while he kept his eyes locked on the gap. "You may reveal yourself now. Come. The stage has been set."
Fine. Fuck him. Fine. Ken took the bait. He pushed the door open and stepped into the light, his soul and flesh hardening with something he hoped was courage.
This pleased JP immensely and he positioned himself to lean against his cane. "Good afternoon. It has been a while, has it not?"
Ken was exploding with questions, his head trying to streamline them all into something coherent and settled for two that came out shuddering with shock and anger; "…You ruined my life, didn't you? You killed innocents just to set me up as a terrorist. Why?!"
"Why? It's fiction, you see. Values, feelings, morality. Nationalism. Wealth. Community. Spirituality. The dichotomy of good versus evil. It's all meaningless jargon," JP straightened his body, so disturbingly casual in his explanation. "Everything and everyone can be morphed into profitable content until people tire of them. The power is in their meaninglessness."
"…So that's why you do what you do. What about me?" Ken asked and wondered why he did so when he already had the clues.
"It was an interesting story. The fallen champion walking a thin line between the hero he thinks he is and becoming the monster the world thinks of him as," the old man answered. "I would advise you to not take it so personally as you'd just be adding fallacious pathos to it. But people do seem to be so overtly adroit in doing that."
The apathetic tone with the ramblings that came of a cold-hearted monster in fancy suits enraged Kalima and she couldn't keep her composure any longer. Her nostrils flared, her body tensed and she stared death and murder at JP as the words came flying out of her mouth with a hiss. "And Nayshall? What about our culture? Our sacred ceremonies? Our history!"
Whatever the answer was, Ken couldn't collect himself. His mind drifted into abject despair. Suspended in hopelessness. His resolve inverted and his body sank to the floor in a graceless heap of himself. All the hurt, all the tears, blood, scars. All of it. Part of a ploy for a callous psychopath. Should he cry or laugh? He didn't know. He blinked his eyes shut, let the darkness in, and hoped there would be light at the end. It was a terrifyingly aching experience to have your entire life with its ups and downs boiled down to tools for manipulation.
Fiction.
Ken wasn't that self-important but his world and the people in it were important to him. They gave his life meaning. And yet, he felt dizzy with someone throwing all of it in his face in a heartbeat. It hurt. It absolutely hurt. Ached, especially when that callous someone was the driving force behind all this. It hurt so relentlessly fucking badly and Ken sank into true and utter helplessness. Worse than his first stint in juvie. Like then, he now found himself fighting a stress reaction. Not tears. It just burned and hitched through his chest.
No. He had come this far. There would be no point in giving up. Ken was one of many chess pieces to be used no longer. He stood up, despair burning into anger.
"Human trafficking, you sick fuck," he spat with unfiltered vitriol and hatred. "You sold children! You had innocent people killed for your gun grift!"
JP breathed steadily and soundly, his eyes narrowing just a bit at the pejorative hurled his way. "Commodities all of it. Drugs and weapons are in high demand And humans? Impoverished, naïve young souls are also sought after. Hong Kong and Metro City were a successful test run. I must thank you for getting rid of Belger as well as aiding Retu and Sodom. The test run had to end somehow. Thanks to your efforts, Nayshall will become a blossoming nation, collecting and generating revenue through various ventures. Its existence is secured. Nothing else matters."
That was the final straw for Kalima. She opened her jacket, pulled out the knife, and began to sprint towards JP. It all happened so fast before Ken could properly stop her.
"How could you?! You're a vampire who will suck this country dry. Our great nation is-" she shrieked, cut off by the knife wrangled out of her grasp and jammed directly through her throat.
JP let the blade be to step back and wipe his hands clean from the blood while his assistant stumbled backward and gurgled incomprehensible death rattles. She fell over backward, and blood pooled around her neck, rippling with postmortem twitches.
"What a shame," the old fucker shook his head, then turned his attention to Ken with a snap of his fingers. "The tournament has taken a different turn but continues in this new form. Would you care to watch it in my company? Please, stay."
Before Ken could think to move, his body moved on its own, pulled down to a seat on the floor. His eyes tried to focus on the sinister aura that suddenly glowed around JP's hand, and it occurred to him that he had seen that light before. It occurred to him then that he was looking at Psycho Power. The realization set in, absurdly real, horrifically apt because JP wielded it with such stealth that surpassed Bison by a mile.
Ken's stomach churned with the smell of blood hanging in the air, yet his head was forced to look upwards at holographic screens that appeared in front of the row of windows to the throne room, all showing different angles of the arena. Two fighters stood in the middle at stared at the guards hauling protestors away and an awful feeling settled deeply in Ken's stomach.
No signs of Juri but…
"How is your wife?" JP asked like they were having a casual conversation. He kept his gaze fixed on one of the screens, while Psyche Power wormed its way through Ken like a maggot. Wriggling, spreading. Pulling the words out of him like pulling hair out of a drain.
"I don't know. S-she almost died…"
"Oh. The car bomb. Yes, I was trying to play with the narrative a bit," JP answered.
Ken was so overrun by anguish and despair that he hardly picked up on the fight that resumed in the arena. Yet through gritted teeth, he forced himself to post a simple question. "Wh-why? She tried to sell to you!"
"The company would have been mine to play with regardless. However, your wife dying would have spiced things up a little. Maybe even hasten the process for my benevolence to save your father's legacy. Maybe I would have taken in your son," the old man explained without an ounce of sympathy or care for the vile things he planned or implied. Complete and utter indifference.
And the futility almost caused Ken's eyes to burn. He sat, frozen in terror, his entire body shaking, his heart beating, his nerves pinching. Dammit, dammit! What now?
He wouldn't have to wonder for long.
The feed of the tournament was disrupted but the sound of the crowd panicking returned. The grip of Psycho Power lessened just enough for Ken to lift his head and look towards the window, towards the shapes that came flying closer and crashed through the glass, sending shards everywhere. People, a lot of them, now stood in front of the pair – and the frigid corpse. People Ken had not seen before. More of them came pouring through the main entrance of the throne room.
And there, in the midst of them stood Juri.
"Sup, Ken doll. Here to save your ass," she grinned and in that moment, Ken loved her more than anything in the world.