Hi everyone! Sorry for the late update, it's been really busy this Christmas! I hope y'all are just as hyped up for it as I am, cos' the spirit of Christmas really touches my heart and I've always wanted to share it with everyone. So… Yes I can confirm that I'm doing a Christmas special this year!
Before I go on, I'd like to thank the following people from the bottom of my heart for reviewing my story: Im Blu, THExPOTxHEAD, Iron Carnotaur, koipbuiop, Malorn Fairytail, NoahTheOverlander, Gyltig, MarbleSky,a guest reader, TheGreatAthlon5, another guest reader, The Writer of all Mistakes, phantom1299, Randonfire, Jacob laroche(nice to meet you!), Moeez, TH3 EL3TR1C, HumanicHedgeHog and Clytuis. Each and every one of you has really touched my heart, because to put in the effort to review someone else's story is no easy feat… I just really wanna thank you all, and thank all those other people who have reviewed my story over the past year.
Thank you to all my readers for being patient with me and bearing with me even if the pace of the story has been really slow compared to my previous stories. I'm sincerely grateful for having you guys, I really am.
This chapter is written from Grace's perspective for the very first time!
Chapter 26: Black and White
Grace knew fear as a warrior knew a familiar adversary- she had been subject to its taunting while it desecrated her, threatening to consume her identity and soul. But she hadn't known a fear as violent as this.
She felt like it was forcing its head down her throat, drowning out her assertive and powerful vocal chords and leaving her mute in her family's greatest time of need. She was just as helpless as when she thought she had lost her husband for good, just as helpless as when she suffered from the plague, just as helpless as when…
Just as helpless as when Gregor left her.
She hadn't realised that in her bid to keep him close to her bosom, she had inadvertently driven him away. She had alienated her son and had blinded herself to his transformation through sheer pig-headed stubbornness.
Of course, the rest of the family didn't know her true feelings about the matter. She maintained an air of steadfast conviction in her beliefs, that Gregor belonged in the Overland, safe and far away from the treacherous monsters that roamed under New York City. But deep down, her fight with Gregor had shaken her and instilled seeds of doubt, seeds which had continued to grow and gnaw away at her resolve over the last five years.
It was only a matter of time before she began to blame herself for Gregor's decision to leave, which had left a yawning chasm in the heart and soul of the family. Lizzie was crushed and while Boots didn't quite understand the gravity of the situation, she was mature enough to comprehend the fact that her brother's absence had broken the spine of the family. Her husband James had tried to rectify the whole thing, desperately trying to communicate with Gregor and call their son home, but it was all in vain.
There was a massive schism when it came to the beliefs Grace and Gregor held… And as long as that was the case, he wouldn't return home to them. Gregor was as good as dead to the family.
But now, everything had changed. Their sudden kidnapping, meant to spur Gregor on to return home to fight for the family, had altered the status quo on a magnitude like no other. Suddenly, she could no longer mask her emotions and was left in a vulnerable heap in front of a bunch of strangers who were training their weapons on her.
The fear which seized her was even worse, though. She had always prided herself on being a strong, independent woman, but when facing the barrel of a gun, she suddenly found herself bending at the knee before a man she didn't know. It violated her, undermining the principles she had about never backing down, but it couldn't be helped.
Her life was far more important than the values she held… At least for now.
And for all the years she wished Gregor would walk through the family door, she currently hoped to heaven that Gregor would not return for them. She had heard the rumours, of course, that her son was a natural born killer, but she had never seen it herself to confirm it. It was all just hearsay to her, a lie fabricated to boost the image of her son and perhaps even weaved to urge him to go to battle as a soldier. But based on the tense body language of the mercenaries, she wasn't very sure anymore.
In any case, natural born killer or not, he didn't stand a chance against these guys. There were at least a dozen of them, and every single mercenary was armed with a rifle which looked far more fatal than any sword forged by Hephaestus himself. Gregor had no way of getting to them without dying.
At that thought, Grace closed her eyes and fought back the tears which began to well up. Gregor, even as he became a man, was still a little boy in her eyes. Even if he hadn't been a kid since his father left, she had always seen him the same- a precious, invaluable jewel to be protected at all costs. He was her one and only son, the one who would pass down the family name to a new generation of Walkers.
And she was hours, maybe even minutes, away from losing the boy she had devoted her life to. Her heart was so broken by his exit five years ago, that she wasn't sure if it could shatter even further anymore by having to watch him die in front of her.
She had prayed countless unheard prayers for him not to return, but it amounted to wasted breath in the end. The futility slapped her hard across the face when she heard one mercenary mumble, "He's here. Bravo team is moving forward to engage."
The seconds, in a horrifically merciless twist of fate, seemed to inch by even slower, creating agonising tension in the room unfelt…
Unfelt…
Since he had locked horns with her years ago.
The memories suddenly assaulted her, transporting her to a time when she was adamant on keeping the family together, unaware that it would fracture the fabric which held it in place. Opinions and desires hadn't been unearthed yet, but a couple of sentences by Gregor had been enough to trigger a fierce reaction from her.
"It's not happening," Grace said firmly. "And you know why."
"No, I don't happen to," Gregor shot back. "Care to enlighten me?"
James cleared his throat, and his following words cut through the tension in the air like a knife through butter. "I don't think this is necessary. Can we all just calm down?"
But Grace was not ready to calm down, especially not when her son was adopting that kind of attitude and challenging her. "Not now, James!" she snapped at her husband. "I'm finishing this with Gregor."
"It'll take the whole night," James sighed exasperatedly. "Can we all just go to bed and discuss this in the morning, when we're all not so tired?"
"No," Grace replied bluntly. "I don't care if it takes the whole night. I'm finishing this conversation once and for all."
She stared into her son's eyes, which burned with passion and anger she hadn't seen in him before. She took an involuntary gulp of fear and continued to eye him from head to toe. Aggressive body language- clenched fists, grinding teeth, and a look of sturdy determination as he began to square her up.
This wasn't going to end quickly.
She straightened up as well, although she was well aware that he towered over her easily. But she was his mother, and no amount of techniques he employed to intimidate her would work. Not on Grace, who had stubbornly fought her way through enormous obstacle after enormous obstacle to keep this family together. Gregor wasn't going to undo everything she had fought to protect.
She had never envisioned assuming this purpose for the family when she had first married James. She expected it to be a quiet affair, as they plodded through placid lives, conforming to society's demands without much fuss and maintaining meek personalities which would allow them to get along well. Not excellently, but this family never aimed for any more than the average.
But here she was, taking her son on in a verbal fight. She knew it would never escalate to becoming anything physical… Hell, she doubted he would even use any profanities, let alone any against her.
"So," Gregor began, in a voice that made her spine tingle, "give me FIVE good reasons why I can't go back there."
"You only need one," she replied. "And it's our safety."
"Safety?" Gregor chuckled. "Mom, they've been living peacefully for YEARS. The rats and humans are living together now, they're not fighting."
"How do you know that?" she fired back. "You don't know all these things, do you? What if they began fighting again? What if a new disease has hit them again? You don't know, Gregor, and you can't just go back there without knowing what's going on."
That was the logical peak of the conversation, when they were both considering each other's arguments rationally. But then the emotion began to creep into Gregor's voice as he replied, "You don't understand, you never did. I'm a soldier, Mom. I can protect all of you without even trying! At least give me a chance to try the place out."
"I've spent money and blood and tears and God knows what building our lives up here," she said, shaking her head in disapproval. "Why do you want to give it all up? Down there, you're a soldier. At least up here, you're safe."
"I'm NOBODY up here," Gregor said fiercely. "Mom, I'm a prisoner at best. I've had… anger issues. You know that. In the Underland, they value people with this kinda condition. I can consult Ripred on how to control it better. But up here? Up here they'll put me into a mental institution. They don't understand what I am, Mom. I need to go back there."
"Is this what it is about?" Grace responded coldly. "Your ego? You want to feel like a celebrity?"
Gregor's face was turning red, and Grace was starting to question whether it was from embarrassment, or something much darker. "That's not what it is," he said, "Why do you always like to twist the situation to humiliate me? I'm eighteen, I can make decisions for myself. I don't need to seek you out for permission to leave, and the last thing I expect is to be humiliated by you."
"Maybe I wouldn't humiliate you," Grace said exasperatedly, "if you actually used your brain, like your sister. Son, our lives would constantly be in danger if we lived down there."
"Grace," James said softly, "Don't be so harsh on the boy."
"I need to be," she insisted obstinately. "He's not thinking right."
"Oh for Christ's sake," Gregor sputtered out as he spun around, throwing a hand up dismissively.
"Don't turn your back on me, Gregor," Grace called out at him.
Gregor didn't have to turn around to reveal his expression. His hands settled on his head, which was the calm before the storm. His fingers suddenly grabbed tufts of hair and coiled it up, the brown entwining itself like roots around his bony fingers. He yanked hard, and as a mother it was hard for Grace not to wince at the action.
"Gregor," she said, "Face me."
He turned around and Grace's heart skipped a beat. He had a face of thunder, his lips curling into a bitter snarl and his eyes blood red from both tears and anger. And when he spoke, she couldn't help but shrink slightly on the inside.
"You never understood," he seemed to whisper. "I don't belong here. I belong down there with my friends."
"Your friends?" Grace repeated, slowly and deliberately to infuse disbelief into her tone. "Your friends? We're your family, Gregor. We should take priority, not your friends. I am your mother."
"Unfortunately," Gregor said tersely, eliciting a gasp from James.
"Gregor," Lizzie said uncertainly, "I'm not sure…"
"Not now, Lizzie," Gregor grunted, his steely gaze penetrating straight through Grace and his words digging right into her heart.
She fought back tears as she replied, "If this is how you'll talk to me, then I won't even consider your request."
"You never did."
He spoke the truth- under no circumstances would she ever let him return to the Underland. It was far too dangerous for him, yet he couldn't seem to see it. He had been blinded by the love of his friends and the hatred of the Overland, and now he was more delusional than she had ever seen him.
"Your stupid friends have blinded you," she said spitefully. "That brat Luxa and that disgusting old rat-"
"Ripred," Gregor interrupted her.
"Sorry?"
"His name is Ripred."
"I don't care," she said scathingly, "All I care about-"
"He's saved my life countless times," Gregor said slowly, trembling with rage. "Say his name."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"He's saved your life too."
"So what?"
"I SAID SAY IT!" Gregor roared, slamming his fist down onto the table. James stood up immediately, while Lizzie and Boots quickly backed away.
"Have some control, young man," James warned, "Or you'll have to deal with me too."
"It's her," Gregor said, his voice choked with emotion. He looked around for a bit, trying to hide the tears welling up in his eyes as he sought a reply. Finally, he spoke up, "She's driven… She's driven this entire house mad. She thinks she knows best, but she has no idea… No idea how much I've been hurt by her."
The pain in Gregor's voice was so raw, so real, that Grace found tears welling up in her eyes too. She hated seeing her son suffer, and to see him looking so broken and defeated was heartbreaking for her. But she also realised that she had to do what was best for him.
She knew she was currently the culprit of his agony, but she had to swallow the bitter pill. She had to take the brunt of his hatred, as long as it meant he was safe.
Gregor turned to Lizzie and pleaded, "Please, Lizzie, back me up here. The bitch isn't listening to me, so I need your help."
"GREGOR!" James thundered.
"You're just as bad as her," Gregor spat at him resentfully. "You don't have the guts to tell her how much we've suffered up here. You could have kept us in New York and allowed us to stay in the Underland, but you're far too weak."
"Don't you dare call me weak," James seethed, "after all I've endured for this family."
"Then prove you're not," Gregor challenged his father. "Prove you're strong. Tell her to let me go back."
James shook his head. "You know I can't take sides in this fight."
Gregor's vehement desire to convince Grace to let him leave for the Underland was ironically digging an even deeper grave for him. No one was going to side with him, not in this maniacal state of his. All the years of pent-up bitterness and rage had culminated into this argument, yet it had backfired so, so spectacularly for him.
"Boots?" he called out hopefully.
Boots shook her head. "I can't even remember what it's like, Gregor. I don't know… I don't know…"
Gregor, looking close to defeat, finally swivelled to face his mother head on once more. "Are you done?" she asked him pointedly.
"No," came his biting reply, "I'm going to go through you next."
"There's nothing to go through," she replied. "I've made my stand clear, and I don't intend to change it, especially since you've been behaving like a rabid dog."
"Cunt," he breathed.
"What did you call me?" she asked, almost shocked to hear such a vile word slip out of Gregor's mouth.
"I called you a cunt," he said bluntly.
She felt violated by the very word. It was just as bad as a slap across the face. It felt like a dagger to the heart. A dagger driven home by her own son, piercing the throbbing muscle and evoking pain and sadness in its most untainted state. No taste of sweetness, just sheer bitterness as it rolled past her tongue and down her throat. It was like consuming poison designed by the person she trusted the most.
"After all I've done for you," she said quietly, struggling to restrain the hurt from entering her voice, "after all the effort and blood and sweat and tears and… after all that, you still call me a cunt."
Gregor's tears were now fully visible as he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's true," he managed to force out. "I'm dying up here, Mom. I can't… This place isn't meant for me. If you truly love me, you have to let me go back there."
Gregor's words may have been gentler, but they still left cuts just as deep. He was begging to leave the family to survive on his own, in a place where someone's life was in perennial danger until it was over. He wouldn't be able to see it now, but years after he had spent his hatred on her, perhaps he would recognise the sacrifice she was making.
She was sacrificing his love for her in exchange for his safety.
"No," she almost whispered. "I cannot do that in good conscience, Gregor. You won't understand why I did this, but maybe years from now, when you have your own children, you might…"
"Don't," Gregor turned away for a second, seemingly disgusted by her words. "Don't… Don't pretend that you know what's going to happen in the future. All I asked for is my old life back, but you…. You can't see what I've been through."
"I can," Grace said sadly, "and that's the reason why I can't let you go."
"STOP IT!" Gregor roared, slamming his fist down onto the table. "STOP PRETENDING YOU LOVE ME!"
"I do," Grace said.
Those two words broke whatever was left of Gregor. Tears finally rolled down his face, and still shaking his head, he turned to Lizzie and asked, "Will you help me speak to her?"
Lizzie sighed and looked away. "You know I can't."
Gregor, vanquished at last, only shot Grace one last glance of loathing as he said, "Fine. I'll do it myself."
Grace remembered how James and Lizzie had chased after Gregor, while she and Boots just stared at the chaos unfolding in front of them, dazed by the surreal turn of events. It was a moment that she could never forget, not until she was lowered into her grave.
It was more than just a harrowing experience, it was a life-changing one as well. She could only wistfully think back to the days of-
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by gunfire downstairs, followed by bloodcurdling screams as the gunfire died down. She looked up at James, whose resigned body posture said it all.
Their son was dead.
Lizzie closed her eyes and stingy tears trickled down her cheeks. Lizzie had grown to hate crying, but even now it was hard to stomach the fact that her brother was gone. Boots, as usual, still looked dazed and confused. The last forty-eight hours had shocked her system and she was probably still reeling from the whole sequence of events. Grace didn't expect her youngest child to react to Gregor's death, at least for now.
"Bravo team," one of the mercenaries spoke up, "Come in."
No response.
"Bravo team," the mercenary repeated. "I repeat, come in."
No response.
The mercenary adjusted his microphone for a couple of seconds, clearly disturbed by the monotonous crackling noise coming from the other end of the line. The other mercenaries in the room seemed to tense up, as their fingers now rested impatiently on the trigger of their rifles.
"Bravo team has been compromised," one of the mercenaries said. "We-"
He was interrupted as the door to the room suddenly flew off its hinges and sailed over the Walkers' heads, crashing into the wall behind them and breaking into a shower of splinters. It was followed by the body of a mercenary, which landed with a thud in front of the other mercenaries.
They all trained their weapons towards the entrance to the room, waiting for the adversary to enter.
Seconds ticked by.
And ticked by.
And then a full minute passed as they continued to aim at the entrance, fully prepared for a sudden acceleration into the room by… by whoever had the strength to throw an entire door across the room.
Then the wall on the right of the room blew up.
The mercenaries stumbled backwards in surprise as smoke clouded the room. Light spilled forward and lit up the floor, still uncontaminated by the heavy black clouds that billowed in. Grace coughed violently, her eyes settling on Lizzie, who seemed to be on the verge of embarking on yet another panic attack. But then her gaze quickly flitted back towards the broken wall…
Where a black shadow stood.
The sinister silhouette seemed to scream its own presence against the backdrop of the light. It was so still, as if all the time in the world didn't matter to it. Then its head seemed to swivel round to gaze at Grace. It was a gaze that seemed so familiar to her, like she had been subject to an intense stare by this shadow before.
The shadow turned to face the mercenaries.
With blinding speed that must have belonged to a demon, it shot across the room and took down one mercenary within seconds, driving its blade into the man multiple times before grabbing the body by the throat and hurling him towards his comrades.
The demon then reared up to full height, and Grace's attempt to scream was muffled by the fear which now blocked her throat. The demon must have been at least 6 foot, and seemed to possess enough strength to drag every one of those bastards down into hell. She scrambled backwards, still stunned by what she was seeing in front of her.
The mercenaries finally regained their composure and all of them opened fire at the the demon swung its blade up and…
And…
Started deflecting the bullets aside.
"GET DOWN!" James yelled as the deflected bullets started to ricochet around the room.
Grace pressed her face against the cold floor, but still tilted her head upwards to see what was going on. The demon was advancing forward slowly but surely, its hands a blur as its sword arced through the air, adjusting itself brilliantly to make contact with each and every bullet heading in its direction. There was a certain flair and swagger about it, like this was what it was born to do…
It was born to be a killer.
It sprang forward and crashed into the mercenaries with full force, scattering them and sending them sliding and skidding all over the place. The demon, defying the laws of this universe, seemed to recover faster than them. It got up and grabbed one mercenary by the throat, lifting the man up and slamming him back down.
The demon suddenly appeared to develop a sixth sense when it lashed out with a kick to its right without even looking, its foot connecting with the mercenary and sending the mercenary flying backwards.
The demon then spun around and nearly cleaved an entire head off with one swing of its blade. Grace's stomach began performing somersaults as blood sprayed out over the floor and the man's head lulled backwards.
The demon reacted even quicker than a mercenary sneaking up behind it. It grabbed a rifle on the ground and swung it hard, with the stock connecting hard with the mercenary's face. The demon followed up by driving its blade with full force into the mercenary's heart, causing Grace to flinch as dying gasps punctuated every move made by the demon.
One relatively unharmed mercenary pulled out his pistol and fired at the demon, but once again the demon produced an unearthly reflex and deflected the bullets aside. The mercenary, realising he was probably going to die, desperately drew out another pistol and fired at the demon.
But the demon casually and skilfully dodged or deflected them while slowly getting to his feet. The mercenary tossed his pistols aside and raised his hands up high. "I'm sorry," he said. "Just please don't kill me, I don't-"
His pleas for mercy were cut short by the demon, who killed off any remaining last words by grabbing the man's throat. The demon then inhaled for a few seconds, almost like it was considering what was the best course of action. But Grace had seen that aggressive body posture before- it wasn't that of a bloodthirsty entity, but it did reveal one thing.
The demon did not intend to show mercy.
It rammed its blade through the mercenary, with the end of the blade jutting out of his back. The mercenary gripped hold of the blade and tried to pull it back out of his body, but the demon maintained its position as the man struggled on. Finally, the demon squeezed hard and suffocated the mercenary, causing him to go limp.
The demon tossed the body aside like he was discarding trash, before turning to look…
Straight at Grace.
She stared at it and it stared back at her for what felt like hours. She could barely make out its outline, but it was definitely humanoid. Complete darkness, a gleaming sword, a dagger in its left hand… details which Grace could make out, but nothing more. This demon was unrecognisable to her, yet it bore a resemblance to something which belonged to the distant past… Somehow its existence right in front of her seemed so paradoxical that no matter how much she feared it, she couldn't help but feel intrigued by it.
Suddenly, a mercenary burst through the entrance and aimed at the demon before pulling hard on the trigger. The gunfire roared like rhythmic drumbeats as they hurtled through the air, ready to deliver devastating damage to the monster in the room. But the demon, once again, calmly deflected the bullets with one hand, and then reared its other hand back…
Before throwing a dagger straight at the mercenary.
The dagger embedded itself in the mercenary's shoulder, triggering a sharp yelp of pain from the man as he dropped the gun. The demon then raced forward and sprang high up in the air, so high its head seemed to brush against the ceiling…
And delivered a brutal kick to the mercenary's head.
The mercenary hit the ground hard and for a split second, Grace wondered if the kick had been powerful enough to kill him. But ragged breathing could suddenly be heard from the corner, and they knew he was still alive. But then the demon started to head towards it, which meant that the mercenary was probably better off dead.
The demon yanked the dagger out of the mercenary's shoulder, before impaling it into the mercenary's wrist, pinning the man to the ground. Another intense scream of pain followed, but the demon didn't seem to care. Instead, it took off its helmet to reveal greasy dark hair, and a face so familiar and yet so unfamiliar to Grace.
It was Gregor.
Gregor.
The shock of the moment overwhelmed any other emotion that Grace had become accustomed to over the last hour.
Her son had returned home, and was living and breathing right in front of her.
Gregor had come back home to his family.
Gregor.
The stream of thoughts and indescribable feelings were cut short by the young man himself. "Where is Calvin?" he asked the mercenary through gritted teeth. "Where is he?"
"Please," the mercenary begged, "I'll give you money, I just want to-"
"I DON'T CARE!" Gregor yelled slamming his fist down, missing the mercenary's face by inches. "Tell me where Calvin is, or your next words will be your last."
"The Underland," the mercenary blurted out, trying his utmost not to meet Gregor's gaze. "He- He's down there, with Snake and um… the fox."
"Flavius?" Gregor pressed him.
"Yes," the mercenary said, gulping. "They're at the military base, and the foxes are joining us there."
"And what do they plan to do with him?"
"Interrogate him," the mercenary answered obediently. "They want him to tell them Regalia's weaknesses and… and confess any other details which might help our operation."
Gregor just grunted in response. "Please," the mercenary added desperately, "I have a wife and a kid. I just wanna return home to them."
"Then you should have thought about them before taking up this job," Gregor growled as he raised his blade.
But just before he brought it down onto the mercenary, his gaze met Grace's. Nothing transpired between the two of them- there was no telepathy, no communication, nor did Grace intend to relay any message to him. All she did was stare into her son's eyes.
And something changed in them.
Gregor suddenly halted his movement and looked down at the mercenary, before turning back to look at his family. Lizzie and Boots were cowering in fear, but Grace and James just watched their one and only son, refusing to convey any opinion about what he was about to do.
And just like that, he dropped his sword.
Instead, he lashed out with a ferocious punch that knocked the mercenary out, before pulling the dagger out of his wrist. He then turned around to look at his family, and they looked back at him. Grace didn't know what to think of what she had just witnessed- fear or elation that her son had come back for them.
He had changed so much… His face looked weathered, and his stubble made him seem closer to forty than twenty. His muscles looked so much more attuned to battle, and even his expression displayed the maturity which had aged him so much over the last five years. She didn't know what he had seen, nor did she intend to find out. Whatever he had experienced had truly killed the little boy in her son, and all that was left now was the warrior in him.
His mouth seemed to itch towards turning into a scowl, another sign of the grizzled disillusionment that appeared to latch onto him like a leech, draining him of the youthful, exuberant innocence he once possessed.
But no matter how he had changed, he was still her son.
She got up to her feet slowly and shuffled forward, still having to adjust to standing up following the ordeal she had been subjected to. But no matter how difficult or arduous it was, she still had to do it, because her son had come home.
The prodigal child of hers had come good at last.
Embracing him, she whispered quietly as tears began to flow out, "Welcome home, Gregor."
"I love you Mom," he said softly as he hugged her back.
And he finally said what she never thought he would ever say to her-
"I'm sorry."
Not my longest chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it. A little more action than the previous one, but again, not too much. The pace is deliberately slower at the moment, but it will slowly ascend to becoming much more explosive later on. And I'm fairly pleased to announce that Flavius will be making an appearance very soon! Probably the chapter after next.
Hope you enjoyed this from Grace's perspective… I just thought it'd be interesting to provide greater insight into her personal beliefs and thoughts, and I thought that seeing Gregor from a third person perspective would enhance his image, and present him like a reaper when fighting in battle.
So… About the Christmas special. Seeing as Christmas is around the corner, I actually plan to release it within the next forty-eight hours, simply because there's an important message I wish to convey as the Christmas season hits its peak. It's less fluffy and there's less humour this time, as I'm hoping to make it more heartwarming rather than funny. So… I hope you guys are looking forward to it!
Favourites/follows are encouraged, please review as well!
Question: Pitch a Christmas special, and the plot might be used for next year's special! (Yes, I plan to do one every year for as long as I possibly can)
