Chapter 31: Res by the Res Part 1
One of the last things the expedition was able to promise were meaningful signs of civilization in the Unclaimed Wastes. The initial reports from scouts were met with skepticism and in some cases derision from the more skeptical members of the AEG. As they grew closer and the light pollution from the city became more evident, the AEG found themselves standing across from the last, great remnant of civilization that remained in the Unclaimed Wastes. The great free city of the Res by the Res.
A veritable oasis, the Res by the Res was a motley and ramshackle collection of shacks, trailers, tents, and stables surrounding the largest source of clean water in Arizona. A reservation by a reservoir.
The AEG was now faced with a conundrum. On one hand, this would be the last real opportunity to collect water and supplies for the trek eastwards, in addition to the last guaranteed bit of respite for the beleaguered and exhausted troops. As much as leave wasn't a factor the volunteers had considered, recent events and attrition had left many of the troopers stressed and antsy. Interservice tension was at an all-time high, with even the disciplined marshals snapping and getting in fights with the troopers every now and then.
Of course, said recent events were also cause for hesitancy. The fighters who attacked the AEG were more likely than not using the very same city for refuge. In addition, Californians and Mojave-dwellers were also not exactly popular this deep in Unclaimed Waste territory. However, as the big sign at the entrance spelled out, caps trump everything.
"OK, listen up!" Natalie announced to the attending troopers. "The leadership and I have discussed the situation and we've decided; a one-night pass over the weekend. Over the next two days, troopers will be allowed an eight-hour leave within the city." She had to pause to allow the cheering to die down.
"I, myself will have other matters to attend to. Despite our survey teams best efforts, I am aware that our water rations are at severe levels. So, elements of the leadership will also be down there to haggle with the locals for fresh, clean drinking water. And, let's be honest, most of you are smelling ripe," she added to the laughter of a few.
As Natalie continued laying out the ground rules, Rosa was prowling around the camp. After chatting with a few marshals, she eventually found the tent. Throwing the curtains aside, she saw Tobey shaving his few whiskers in front of a bucket, her sudden arrival causing him to nick the side of his cheek.
"Well?" Rosa asked, impatiently.
Wincing as he dabbed the side of his cheek, Tobey looked to her. "Marshals aren't exactly popular this far in the east, Rosa."
"And you aren't stupid enough to actually bring your badge with you, are you?" Rosa mocked as she entered the tent. "C'mon, I haven't had a decent drink or screw in ages. And since I can't leave your sight, you gotta come with!"
"Why not ask Carla?" Tobey asked as he toweled off his face.
"You want a shot to get in these pants or not?" Rosa hissed through a smile.
"…I'm gonna regret this," Tobey sighed as he placed his badge on the table and finished buttoning up his shirt. Rosa immediately grabbed his arm and practically dragged him from the tent, right as they intercepted Carla with her date for the night.
"Oh, you're coming, too?" Rosa seethed through her lips.
Carla nestled her head against her date's arm. "You aren't the only one who wants to have fun. Just ignore the two of us, it's like we won't even be here!"
Rosa shot a glare at Larain as she pulled Tobey down the path, heading towards the lights by the lake. Tobey craned his neck behind him to look at her sister and his date. Carla had a determined look on her face, while Larain shot him a brief apologetic look. Sorry, she made me.
Tobey turned his head to Rosa, where a similar look to his sister was etched on her face. What is the female version of a dick-measuring contest, anyway? This little feud between the two former friends had drawn in a brother and stranger. Hopefully, in the town, something would happen to break this stalemate between the girls.
Gael lay on the table as soft hands caressed his back as a soft voice purred sweet nothings in his ears. The trailer was impeccably decorated, adorned in all matter of indigenous tapestries, scented candles, and a warm atmosphere that contrasted with everything outside the sanctuary. His hostess considered herself a priestess of comfort, and he had been waiting on this appointment for the better part of a week.
Gael liked Amy. Most of the other girls in this town would yak about where he was from or what he was doing like they were pretending to care. Amy was a true professional, asked nothing and was good for every cap. Really, it was almost the perfect service. Admittedly, he hoped that this service would conclude with something a little more… risqué and intimate, but hostess rules were rules. Not to mention that it was bad enough that there was a trespasser in the private area.
"Does he have to stay here?" he finally asked as he turned around on the table. The lovely, pale-skinned redhead laughed as she applied more oil to her hands. "Don't mind him," she laughed. "He's not interested in anything we're doing now," she said as she went to work on his chest.
The lanky, severe-looking bastard had kept his eyes trained on the doorway since Gael had entered. He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd seen as much as a twitch from the guy since the session began the better part of an hour ago. Bastard couldn't help but keep his eyes trained on the doorway since long before Gael had arrived.
"…He your boyfriend?" Gael finally asked in exasperation. The stranger slowly turned his head towards Gael. The simple act of eye contact was enough to send a chill down Gael's back, which in and of itself was no small feat. "…I'm her pimp," the man said as Amy fought back a giggle.
As the timer finally reached its limit, Amy ended the session abruptly as she went to wipe her hands. "Well, I hope it was everything I could offer you," Amy stated as she wrapped up her open robe, as requested by her clientele.
"Hey, what's the rush?" Gael asked as he got off the table. The man began to eye him warily as he approached Amy. "It ain't like you got any other clients tonight? I mean, how bad can demand be for a girl who doesn't put out?"
"You'd be surprised," Amy smiled, sweetly. "I'm honest and I didn't give you any souvenirs to carry. I offer massages and that's what I give."
"And what if I want something a bit more…" he eyed her body up and down.
A strong hand clutched the back of his hair. Gael fought back a yelp as he was dragged to the doorway and thrown from the trailer. As Gael came to his feet, he saw the severe-looking man slam the door on him.
"Hey, jackass, my stuff!" Gael screamed as he began slamming on the door. His clothing and gear were promptly thrown out from the trailer window, much to the laughter of his two partners, Antonio and Javier.
"That's quite the "girlfriend experience" you paid for!" Antonio laughed as Gael hiked up his pants.
"She's lucky she's worth every penny," Gael muttered under his breath.
"You can't trust these northern gringos, even the pretty ones," Javier playfully tutted. "Did you get a good look at her man, though?"
As Gael fitted his jacket over his shoulders, he glanced at the trailer behind him. "…I think that's him. Too soon to make a move, but that's quite the fish in there, boys," he chuckled.
"And here I thought this trip was going to be a wash," Antonio giggled as the three made their way to the lodge.
Cade kept his ear to the side of the trailer as Amy took off her robe and began looking for something else to wear. "So, you thinking of something classy or… Cade, are you listening?" Amy pouted.
"…Bounty hunters," Cade scoffed. "So typical."
Amy approached him, topless and annoyed. "Hello? Earth to Cade? Anyone home?"
Cade ignored her, as he often did. This, as usual, forced Amy to play dirty. She leaned into his ear, quivering as she let out a moan. "Oh, Daddy."
Cade bristled as he flinched away from the woman. Amy crossed her arms as Cade got to his feet. "…I told you never to do that."
"And I'm tired of being ignored, Daddy," Amy bantered.
"…Something that doesn't stand out too much," Cade finally answered. "But still suggests "easy," would be my choice."
Amy returned to her dresser to find the outfit. "I'm glad you don't come around too often, Cade. You really put a dent in client retention."
"I wasn't aware you wanted these people around too often," Cade replied pithily.
"I don't," Amy said as she fished out a low-cut top. "But a girl needs to make a living, doesn't she?"
"…I want you to head to the Poisoned Roach Saloon," Cade finally ordered.
"You really think Larain is going to show up there?" Amy asked as she pulled her shirt down.
"Not him," Cade shook his head. "I want you to keep an eye out on this "Rosa" girl. Get close and be charming, and report everything you find to me. It'll make my later job so much easier."
"Do you even know what she looks like?" Amy asked as she looked for some shoes.
"…Imagine a younger Ariel Ximenez," Cade offered.
"That'll work," Amy said as she flashed a smile.
At the outskirts of the town, three soldiers and a mobster were overseeing the stock of a local weapons dealer. Jimmy watched as the quartermaster's two assistants inspected the wares while the owner kept giving them the stink-eye. Quartermaster Hutsgy leaned by the post as she fished out some gum. "I'm thinking we aren't too popular around here," Hutsgy said aloud, rhetorically.
"Well, good thing I'm here," Jimmy offered as he approached the man behind the crude wood counter. The doughy individual glared at him. Jimmy smiled and reached into his pocket. The man reached under the counter. "Now is that any way to treat a member of the clergy?" Jimmy asked as he fished out a chess piece. The man removed his hand from under the table.
"The fuck is someone like you doing with these Cali shits?" the man rumbled.
"Business," Jimmy smiled.
"…Will this be on credit?" the man behind the counter sighed.
"No, I'll pay upfront," Jimmy shook his head.
The man's demeanor brightened considerably. "Well, the two of you can help yourselves to anything you want!"
Jimmy shook his head. "…We want the primo shit. Don't give us the tourist treatment, bub. We ain't in New Reno. I see as much as a surplus bullet and your western suppliers will hear about it."
The man stared at him before breaking out in an attempted warm smile. "Give your father my regards."
Jimmy nodded as Hutsgy barked orders to her partners. "Ford! West! Just cause someone else is paying doesn't mean skimp over what we get! Ford, look for parts! West, ammo! We don't have all night!"
Sgt. Hutsgy grinned as her assistants began coming through the scrap pile, Jimmy standing next to her as he prodded her side for some extra gum. "Sweet gig you got," Jimmy said as she offered him a stick.
"Logistics 101, baby!" Hutsgy cheered. "Best gig in the army if you're any good. All the perks with little of the risk, comparatively."
"So why come at all?" Jimmy asked as West picked out a missile launcher, tapping it on the side as he threw it back on the junk pile, ignoring the castigations of the store owner.
"Adventure, I guess?" Hutsgy shrugged. Jimmy stared at her. "…What, it's boring working an 8 to 6 on base." She shrugged. Jimmy offered a wry smile. "…Fine," Hutsgy rolled her eyes. "I wanted to get out of New Reno like my uncle did. He left the streets to join the military long ago, and the contraband slinging market back home is pretty competitive, and if I want to get shot, I may as well try to do some good when it happens."
"So why the 5th, then?" Jimmy asked.
"I don't know, something about the "sins of our fathers" battalion spoke to me," Hutsgy admitted. "My uncle ran a bit of a side business during his tour in the Mojave. Apparently one of his suppliers sabotaged him by sneaking in some Jet for some reason. He tried to ditch the hot merch to some guys he trusted, but they got caught and snitched. He got punished and died soon after," she sighed. "So, I guess someone has to redeem the family name."
"Wouldn't know anything about that," Jimmy Bishop said. Both shared a giggle as Ford and West began tugging on a mortar tube, getting into a three-way argument with the store owner.
"So, you career military or looking for a job after you leave?" Jimmy asked.
Hutsgy looked to the mobster. "I don't work corners if that's what you're getting at. In any capacity."
"I was thinking something more… managerial," Jimmy offered. "Something in distribution. Know what I mean?"
"Distribution of what?" Hutsgy asked.
"Anything short of hard drugs and humans," Jimmy offered.
"And that's why you'll never top the RMX," the man behind the counter offered.
Jimmy and Hutsgy both turned to the man, who could only shrug apologetically. "The Market has no scruples."
"You with them?" Hutsgy asked.
The man shook his head. "Those guys are a bit too ruthless. If you join them, you're protected from outside competitors but then you have to worry about internal competition. The RMX weapons dealers inside the city regularly have better goods, but the turnover rate is downright vicious. The top arms dealer here was the meanest son-of-a-bitch I've ever met. And I've had to make that statement six times over the past decade when the next meanest son-of-a-bitch "replaced" the previous one."
"And they also trade slaves?" Jimmy asked, his eyes hardening.
The man winced. "…It's generally frowned upon in this city, but when you go into the mountains up north, they have a whole industry where they just move people from seller to buyer. Mostly, if you're a debtor or were listed as collateral or signed a bad contract, that's how one becomes merchandise."
"And you're OK with that?" Jimmy asked, calmly with the faintest hint of disgust behind his voice.
"…A lot of people have tried, kid," the man confessed. "Less and less every year. You can't beat the Market, kid. Even if you had the guns, it would just set up shop somewhere else and people will still keep it alive. What else can they do? Who would be crazy enough to challenge it, anyway?"
The riders stood vigilantly upon the ridge, looking at the lights shining off the lake. Silverhair was the first to leave, not even looking back as she climbed down the slope towards the city she hadn't seen in years. Kyra, seated behind Barabbas, fought back the urge to wave goodbye. As they set up camp, Uriah and Damocles returned from their scouting mission. "Barabbas, we have a problem!" Damocles announced as he saluted.
"Speak, Damocles," Barabbas ordered as he brushed Belua's coat.
"There's a sizable encampment of soldiers stationed just outside the town. I think they're from out west," Damocles panted.
"…The NCR here?" Barabbas muttered under his breath.
"This is hardly news, Barabbas," Falco added. "We know the Californians have elements inside these wastes."
"This isn't some spy or team of mercenaries," Uriah added. "This is an army numbering in the hundreds."
The mood around camp shifted. Barabbas took Falco aside for a conference. "This isn't good," Barabbas admitted. "Getting to that city was arduous enough, but with the NCR involved…"
"We weren't popular in the area as it was," Falco conceded. "With the NCR involved, however, it will be almost impossible to thoroughly search the town."
"A pity we could not reacquire the cowgirl's services. She would've been our best asset to explore that town," Barabbas hissed.
A shrill whistle interrupted the proceedings. Hypatia had taken off her armored pads to change her outfit into something more in-tune with the locals, wasteland leathers and all. "Everyone knows the Legion doesn't hire women, remember?" she grinned.
"We had not forgotten," Falco replied, humorlessly as Barabbas approached her. He jabbed his finger into her chest. "You are down there for one reason and one reason only. You find her. Do not start a fight. Do not instigate anything with the NCR. Do not come back unless you find out anything, do you understand?"
"Crystal clear, my legate," Hypatia bowed her head. "Might I make one request, though?"
"And that is?" Barabbas rumbled.
"I request your servant accompany me on this mission," Hypatia offered.
"Denied!" Barabbas snapped.
"Might you explain your reasoning, first?" Falco asked as the legate seethed.
"It is an awful lot of ground to cover by myself," Hypatia explained. "Besides, no one will be suspect she of all people is a legionary." Kyra huddled a bit away from the campfire light, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself.
"Besides, she was merely punished for her transgressions. Redemption is a whole different matter," Hypatia grinned. "Perhaps she will make a better spy than cook?"
Barabbas looked to Hypatia, and then to Falco, before finally turning to Kyra. "…Please don't make me," she mouthed, shaking her head.
"…You're a slave," Barabbas finally said. "It doesn't matter what you want." He returned his gaze to Hypatia. "And should she try to escape under your watch?"
"And go where?" Hypatia offered. "The Res by the Res is many things, but without any money, her circumstances will not change. She could run, maybe even tell others about our position, but that wouldn't help her in the slightest. That city doesn't do charity. Really, the best she can do for herself is help with our mission. That should be the first thing on her mind, followed by the knowledge that if she steps even slightly out of line," Hypatia pulled out a knife to punctuate the threat.
"…I hate to agree with the Amazon, Barabbas, but there is wisdom in her words," Falco admitted. Kyra bit her lip as the rest of the riders conceded in reluctant agreement. Barabbas looked back to Kyra, then returned his gaze to Hypatia. "…How do you intend to make use of her?" he asked.
A short while later, Hypatia made her way towards the city, Kyra in front of her while not leaving her sight. Along with Hypatia, Kyra had also changed her clothes, being given a modest-looking blouse and skirt from Hypatia's own bag of clothing. Hypatia had drilled the cover story into her head, that they were sisters looking for employment. As much as Kyra wanted to retch, the thing that kept her going was the distinct possibility that her freedom would be found at the end of the night with the brat they would hopefully find.
Hope. That was the primary reason Kyra stayed her tongue, why she would fight her temptation to scream and plead for help amongst the uncaring merchants and soldiers. With nothing to offer, not to mention no one would believe her about something ridiculous like female legionaries, Kyra was as good as trapped, no different than if Hypatia had placed a slave collar on her body herself. So, for just one more night, Kyra would play along with whatever Hypatia demanded of her.
"Kyra, wait," Hypatia ordered as she grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. She reached to her belt and pulled out her knife, Kyra tensing up and fighting back a scream. "Please, I didn't…" she pleaded as Hypatia dug the knife into her blouse. Starting at the sternum, Hypatia dragged the knife up, destroying the buttons as she carved the garment open, allowing her to showcase a generous display of Kyra's cleavage.
"That's better," Hypatia grinned as she straightened out the blouse. Kyra finally exhaled as she was promptly spun around and continued their trek to the city. "Why?!" Kyra hissed as her voice finally returned.
"I mean, what other possible use could I get for a used slave girl?" Hypatia chuckled. "I will use every asset I have at my disposal to complete this mission, up to and including your ass."
"You didn't say anything to Barabbas about this," Kyra seethed in contempt.
"Well, look on the bright side," Hypatia replied, chipper. "You wanted to be a member of the Legios Amazonia, you just found your opportunity! Besides, it's not like I've taken anything from Barabbas that hasn't already been took!"
Kyra closed her eyes to fight back the tears of humiliation. Now more than ever she focused on the mission before her. This had to pay off. She needed to find this girl. She had to walk away and never look back. It was the only thing keeping her putting one foot in front of the other.
Lt. Baxter pressed her hand on her face as Frost kept snapping pictures. As much as she understood, the fact that he looked every bit the tourist didn't do much to preserve the image of the professional warriors currently trying to hash out an agreement. Ignoring him, Kim's eyes scanned over the streets and rooftops of the oversized shantytown. The Res by the Res was a free city, and that meant those who would do them harm had as much free rein in town as the AEG.
Frost was beside himself. The first member of the NCRBS to discover and document the largest evidence of civilization outside of California in decades? It was too good to be true! He snapped photos and recorded video, ignoring the glares and looks the locals were giving him. He watched as a caravan pulled by brahmin brushed past him, the barker at the wheel telling people that prices on his slickers were about to raise with the assuredly imminent arrival of the rainy season. This was golden. There had to be enough content around this town to last him for weeks or at least a six-part special he could negotiate with his network over. Most Californians had never imagined what the far east looked like, and this was a prime opportunity to show what he could do.
"C'mon, put your backs into it! No supper until you guys get this cleaned!" a voice of a small girl barked out. Looking down the street, he saw said girl issuing orders to another young girl and an older man. The other young girl looked absolutely delighted to be hanging laundry, while the older man looked annoyed as he scrubbed some long johns against a washboard.
Down the street, a red-headed young woman left a trailer accompanied by a dodgy-looking fellow. Frost quickly deducted the nature of the establishment as the two made their way down the road, passing Lt. Baxter and him. The red-headed woman noticed the camera, casting a playful smile as she hiked up her skirt to show some leg. Her accompanier, on the other hand, seemed camera shy in the manner through which he used his hand to cover his face.
"Excuse me, ma'am!" Frost called out before they passed. The surly-looking man bristled as the redhead turned to greet the documentarian. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid you'll have to talk to Daphne to schedule an appointment," she motioned to the facility where the two young girls were having a soapy water fight with the older man running for cover.
"I just want to talk," Frost admitted. "Where is the best place to talk? I'm looking to speak with the locals. I'm something of a documentarian," he explained.
"Oh, really? Wow," the redhead breathed. "I have no idea what that means!"
"I am fond of talking to interesting people and hearing and recording their stories," Frost smiled. The man craned his neck slowly towards Frost, eyes narrowing in hostility. Baxter closed in on Frost to distract the gaze and back up her unofficial charge.
The redhead stroked her chin. "…Well, if you want stories, what better place than a saloon? I'm heading over to the Poisoned Roach Saloon, so if you and your woman want to join us…"
"That would be fantastic!" Frost announced as Baxter tried and failed to interrupt. The last place she wanted to go to was a bar in potentially hostile territory, but it was abundantly clear that Frost could not be dissuaded. And to think today of all days she chose not to wear power armor.
"Well, that's just great, you can come with us!" the woman motioned the two to join them, much to the chagrin of Baxter and the surly man. "My name's Amy, by the way!"
"I'm Tim Frost, and this is Lt. Kim Baxter," Tim introduced as Kim clasped her hand over her mouth to block a scream. Tim turned to look at her. "What? It's not like it's a secret about who we are and why we're here?"
"You're being a little too friendly to a stranger," Kim stated through gritted teeth. The surly man smiled.
"Well, what's to say a few drinks can't fix that?" Amy grinned as she grabbed Frost in a playful headlock. "With the right amount of booze you won't care if you wake up in a stranger's bed or a shallow grave!"
"That's what I'm afraid of," Kim hissed reticently.
"And might I ask about your friend's name…" Frost began.
"Oh, don't mind him, he's just being a little pissy about not getting any from me recently," Amy grinned as Cade seethed.
"Might I ask his name?" Frost asked.
"No," Cade stated, flatly.
As Natalie finished filing the necessary paperwork, the water merchants were busy counting the caps the AEG had provided. Sadly for the AEG, this time of year was a seller's market, so rates per gallon were triple the usual medium. Never mind that the locals were still paying the previous rate, but the Market had already run the numbers.
Natalie couldn't bring herself to complain, seeing as she had been willing to pay five times the standard rate for water. Dying of thirst wasn't something to negotiate with, and caps mattered less and less the further they left civilization. It wasn't like they were in a position to barter with the Legion once they arrived in Texas, after all. She took a moment to rub her eyes as two gunslingers entered the office.
"…Ho-ho-holy shit, Nick, would you look at that?" a familiar voice to Natalie said aloud. The Commissioner turned to see two older yet distinctly familiar smiling faces. She forced herself to respond in kind to keep it from being awkward.
"You aren't kidding! I can't believe it! Maddy!" Nick said aloud.
"…Natalie, Nick, I went by Nattie," Natalie corrected, politely.
Matt let out a laugh while Nick wiped his forehead in embarrassment. "Well, it's been twenty years. How you been?" Nick tried to recover.
"It's been a while," Natalie admitted, wondering where the rest of her men were. Twenty years ago, before the founding of the Judicial Marshals, Vegas had to hire a private army to enforce its borders in the wake of the War of the Glorious Cause. The largest of which were a band of desperados run by a woman named Ariel Ximenez. Natalie and Ariel had never really seen eye to eye, and the by-the-book law officer was often discomforted by the liberties the gang had taken under the watch of the Governor, which she believed in no small part was due to the relationship between their leader and the man himself.
Their contract and tenure within the Mojave Nation had ended abruptly and dramatically, as their professional relationship with Vegas had ended with the collapse of the relationship between Lars and Ariel, who promptly left the city to make her fortunes in the Unclaimed Wastes, never to return. And not once had she even considered coming back to even visit her daughter.
"Hey, uh, you know who's also in town?" Matt interjected.
"Please, I really should be…" Natalie tried to disengage.
"Ariel is here!" Nick interrupted. "C'mon, we can get the band back together. I mean, we're down one baby daddy and your hubby's leg is still probably fucked, not to mention we're also missing-"
"It was nice meeting you two!" Natalie finally said through a strained smile. "But I must really get going!"
"…So, uh, is the boss's kid really here with you or what?" Matt said.
This caused Natalie to stop in her tracks. "…What now?" she asked, her interest clearly peaked.
"We, uh, heard a rumor. Through the grapevine, y'know?" Matt shrugged. "Is she here?"
"…Where is she?" Natalie finally said. "Your boss?"
"She's at an inn by the lake," Nick stated, smiling seemingly obliviously.
"…Take me to her," Natalie stated. "I think we need to talk."
Gorobets, having been seated next to the Commissioner during this whole exchange without having said a word, moved to contest. "Natalie, what is going on?"
"It's fine, Petro, it's just fine," Natalie smiled tightly. "Just need to get out and have a long conversation with an old friend."
"Do you need backup?" Gorobets asked and the Nutso Young Guns shot him a pair of hostile looks.
"No, actually," Natalie admitted. "This was a long time coming."
Ximenez Gang: Regarded by some as the forgotten sixth founding member of the Judicial Marshals, the leader of the eponymous Ximenez Gang, Ariel Ximenez, was introduced as a stabilizing stopgap within the Mojave Nation, handling threats the likes of which the securitrons were deems not capable of handling "delicately." An experienced group of gunslingers, the tactics of the Ximenez Gang were implemented into the initial drafts of what would become known as the Judicial Marshals Basic Training Guide and Manual, having shown remarkable proficiency with small-unit tactics and combat support. However, an incident near the NCR/Mojave rail-line damaged the relationship between the gang and its client, and as a result, the gang were once again branded outlaws as they retreated to the east. Their members have been sighted multiple times in the Rocky Mountains, but nothing official as of yet has been confirmed.