From the Past of Third Earth, Part Two:

Lost Prince, Chapter Three

Over the next week, Duchess Ravenwaves didn't quite take over Castle Plun-Darr—every time the mutants made plans to attack a nearby village, she politely ignored them and certainly didn't try to stop them—but she made it perfectly clear when she ordered something to be done, then it had better be done to her meticulous expectations. Rooms that had been gathering dust and junk were cleaned and organized, the food improved considerably, weapons were categorized and separated from the rest if they needed work, and even an impressive landscaping undertaking of dangerous and deadly plants was being embedded just outside the castle and its moat.

More impressive than that, however, was the duchess herself never lifted a finger to do anything: the slaves did as she told them without any prompting from anyone. As she organized them in her own little demented hierarchy, those she labeled "in charge" began to show a fierce loyalty to her, refusing to answer to anyone but her.

Not even Slythe. Needless to say, he objected to that.

He entered the front hall of the castle, stopping momentarily to admire the tapestries of battle and conquest the woman had dredged up from somewhere. She was currently ordering slaves to hang the embroidered masterpieces on one of the blank walls, pointing and shouting directions as the nervous creatures did as they were told. Shaking his head, the reptilian stalked right up to her, noting she spied him out of the corner of her eye. "Alright, sweetheart, we're overdue for a long talk."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, I very much agree. I'm guessing I've been stepping on the toes of the previous housekeeping staff?"

He felt his eye tick in irritation. Deciding an outburst in the midst of numerous slaves obeying the will of the duchess would be a bad idea—just in case some of them chose to rebel—he grabbed her roughly by her forearm. "Come along to the meeting room, wench—"

"Duchess."

"Whatever! Let's go!"

"That tapestry better be straight before I get back!" she snapped over her shoulder at the slaves. "If not, there will be hell to pay!"

As soon as they were safely in the thankfully empty room, he slammed the door behind him. "Alright, woman, what tricks are you up to?"

Rather than deny his accusation—something he'd expected and was quite surprised she didn't even bother with—she sat demurely at the table and replied, "Why, claiming the spot of head female of this castle, of course." She smirked knowingly. "Did I dethrone some hussy who wasn't getting the job done properly?"

"I think we both know the answer to that question. How long until you plan to overthrow the rest of us, then?"

She shrugged. "Why bother? You seem to have things well enough in hand—running raids, terrorizing the neighbors, fighting your enemies—the least I can do is make sure the castle is neat and tidy." Her grin widened slightly. "After all, my controlling the castle is benefitting you and your men, isn't it?"

He considered her statement. "Well… the castle is looking better than it has in years… and the food is actually edible…." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Wait a minute, what exactly is it you're trying to pull here?!"

She shrugged. "I'm not trying to pull anything. All I want is control of the castle—not the men inside it. Is it too much to ask? If I control the castle, that leaves you mutants free to control the countryside." She stood up, walked over to him, and bent over at the waist to look him in the eye and offer an impressive view of her cleavage. "Admit it, you're getting far more done out there when you don't have to worry about the state of Castle Plun-Darr."

"This is true," he reluctantly confessed through clenched teeth, "but that doesn't give you the right to tell the slaves to ignore any others the rest of us mutants give them, however!"

She looked surprised. "They've been what now?"

"Ignoring the rest of us! I literally had one tell me to my face this morning it answered to no one but you!"

Standing up straight again, she crossed her arms sternly. "You killed it, right?"

"Of course, I did! I can't have them getting away with that crap!"

"Nor should you. I certainly gave no orders for them to be disobedient." She thought for a moment, tapping her foot invisibly under her many skirts. "Hmm… that might explain why my recent counts of the slaves have been coming up short. I'd thought some of them were managing to run off."

He blinked, taken back by what she said. "You've been counting them?"

"Of course, every day at the crack of dawn. That way, I know exactly how many to assign to each chore." She sighed. "Clearly I'm going to have to give them all a talking-to tomorrow. It probably wouldn't hurt if you're there with that axe of yours, that way we can drive the point home with an example." Her eyes half-closed lazily as an evil little grin grew on her face. "And, to sweeten the pot, we can heavily imply those who do as they're told might be freed one day."

"Why would we do that?"

She giggled. "Oh, Slime, you silly reptile!"

"It's Slythe."

"Whatever." Leaning forward again, she gently tapped his nose. "Killing them would be freeing them. We just won't tell them, of course; we'll only tell them enough for them to come to their own erroneous conclusions, and reap the rewards of slaves that do as they're told for a prize they'll never win."

He smiled back. "A bait-and-switch, huh? I like it. Your devious little mind impresses me, wench."

"Duchess."

"Whatever."

Ravenwaves decided it had been a perfectly wonderful day. Slime is far easier to manipulate than he realizes, she thought. All I have to do is make him think he's in control, and he caves in to anything I suggest. Taking over this Castle Plun-Darr is fun! With a satisfied giggle, she gently rapped on the door of her destination. Now to check on my second pet project. As the phrase, "Come in," was uttered, she opened the door and strolled inside.

Vulture-Man looked up from his many chemical compounds with a smirk. "It's nice to have someone around who knows it's only polite to knock," he told her, corking the bottle he had in his hand. "Too many times I've had those blasted idiots come barging in here and destroying my work, and I can't get it through those thick skulls that sometimes the best weapons require the most delicate touch."

Immediately putting herself into sympathy mode, she sighed in agreement, placing a finger against her cheek as if in thought. "I'm guessing you've tried locking the door, then."

"Heck, I've tried blocking the door with a stone slab. Even if Slythe himself isn't the one to break the door down, he has no problem having numerous other reptilians, jackalmans, or monkians doing it for him."

Her smile grew. Good. Now to stroke your ego. "Like any intelligent scientist, however, I'd bet my life you have a secret lab hidden away in a spot no one knows about to get your truly delicate work done." She waved a hand at him before he could say anything. "No, I'm not going to ask you where you hide it. After all, I'm hardly qualified to set foot in a place requiring that level of education."

As she'd hoped, the vulture practically beamed at her. To her astonishment, though, he immediately turned the conversation to her. "Seems a surprise you say you're not educated enough. You certainly have more brains than most other people I've met."

Suck on my humility, bird. "It would've been nice in my younger days," she admitted with a little pout. "Unfortunately, my mother disappeared when I was a babe, and my neglectful father was more interested in just flat-out giving me what I wanted to shut me up, at least until he determined I was old enough to take care of myself. Then he abandoned me, too. It never occurs to a little child knowledge is power, and by the time I did learn that lesson, my prime education years were behind me."

Again, he caught her off guard, this time with an unexpected compliment. "You're very intelligent for one clearly self-taught. So, out of curiosity, how many of the others are you manipulating this easily?"

She stared at him in shock for a moment, taking in his smug half-grin as he crossed his arms and waited patiently for her response. Her mind ran around in circles, momentarily horrified he'd figured out her game. Shit, how did he—well, I knew right from the start he wasn't an idiot like the others. But I was especially careful around him, how did he know—

—unless he's a manipulator himself… in which case I might be able to gain a cohort out of this. Quickly deciding on a course of action, she slowly started laughing. "You sly bird, you!" she squealed, twirling in place and clapping her hands together. "I knew I liked you when I first saw you!"

He preened under her praise. "Well, I am the most intelligent mutant here. I recognize a master manipulator when I see one."

Walking right up to him, she leaned in close to whisper, "Which means you understand how the game works. We master manipulators control everything from behind the scenes—"

"—while the ignoramuses being manipulated take the full brunt of the blame when things go wrong," he finished for her. "I never could get Slythe to understand that concept."

She held back the sigh of relief threatening to rip itself from her. Thank goodness he's willing to be my ally! The last thing I need at this stage of the game is an enemy. "That's his loss and our gain, my feathered friend."

"Let me guess: you were going to pit me against Slythe eventually."

"To be fair, can you think of anyone else who would be a better candidate to take him down? He's got a stubborn streak that's quite admirable, even if he's not particularly bright."

"Easy to manipulate, is he?"

"To Slime's credit, he's actually a bit of a challenge—I constantly have to stay three moves ahead of him. If the others are the cream of the crop, though, I can see why you languish for someone with two brain cells to rub together. I had Jackalman and Monkian eating out of my hand in a matter of hours, and everyone else is easily distracted by my feminine assets. If I stripped nude and offered myself as a whore, they'd be playing roshambo for sloppy seconds within minutes."

"To be fair, I'm surprised you haven't done that, yet."

And there it is. He's hoping to use me to seize control of Castle Plun-Darr for himself. Ally, yes; equal, no. You, my friend, will merely think you've gained control, and I will gladly allow it. She smiled sweetly at him as she tapped his beak. "Tut-tut, silly. I have to save my aces for when I need them. If I play them too early, I might win a hand, but I'll lose the game. If there's one thing I managed to learn from my loser of a father, it's how to be very, very patient."

Tygra walked into the control room, smiling sardonically when he saw his brother had his head resting in his arms. "Your shift's over, Bengali."

"Is it?" was the immediate reply. The white tiger lifted his head to look at the time, never once bothering to turn around. "Huh. It is."

Tygra frowned. He doesn't sound like he was sleeping, he thought, rubbing his chin. Sounds more like he's getting a cold. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

Growling in irritation, Bengali finally deigned to look at his brother. The red tinge to his eyes was all too obvious against his white and blue coloring. "I didn't get much sleep last night. Does that satisfy you?"

That's an outright lie. It's more like you've been crying and don't want to admit it. Rather than voice his idea, however, Tygra muttered, "If that's what you're going to claim, then it will have to suffice." I feel awful. I know he had to have been thinking of Snow Leopard—but I don't know what to say to him or even how to comfort him. A lousy break-up I can help with, but not the death of a cherished partner. He felt the familiar twinge of jealousy again, shoving it aside and refusing to let it turn his thoughts bitter. Deciding to change the subject for both their sakes, he asked, "Anything exciting happen during your watch?"

"Exciting, no." Bengali leaned back in his chair, his defensive veil of sarcastic humor quickly blocking the sorrow he usually kept well-hidden. "'Interesting' might be a better word for it. Aside from the usual spam," he handed Tygra another flyer for "Joe & Mule's Hunting Duo!" before pointing at the screen, "the mutants have themselves a woman."

"A woman? They kidnapped one of the Warrior Maidens again?"

"I don't think so, she looks a little—well, let me see if she's still outside the castle." Pressing a few buttons, the video feed of Castle Plun-Darr came up on the screen. "And there she is, long hair and all. She isn't exactly dressed for the environment, is she?"

"She looks human… and like she's there willingly."

Bengali snorted. "After what I saw earlier, I'm more inclined to say she's taken over. She got Slythe to punish one of the slaves for her—Slythe! The one least likely to take someone else's orders!"

"Did he put up a fuss about it?"

"Nope. He smiled at her and did as she asked without any hesitation."

"Well… she might be mating with him."

"That's just gross."

"Mutants breed, too, and as disgusting as we might think it is, there are females with a very different idea of what constitutes a worthy male—" He stopped mid-lecture at his brother's skeptical expression. "Alright, fine, the thought makes me want to vomit—but it doesn't make what I said any less valid! After all, as you pointed out, she's getting Slythe to obey her without question. Mating is just the natural conclusion to draw."

"If that's the case, then clearly she's one of those multiple-mate types. She just twiddled Jackalman's ears."

"We'll have to keep an eye on them, that's all." As his brother got up to leave, Tygra felt compelled to say something, anything. "Bengali, I—" He stopped at the glare he received, quickly revising his statement. "Get some sleep so I don't have to worry about you."

The white tiger's expression softened just before he quipped, "Yeah, because it's really my lack of sleep concerning you." He flashed a grin to his older brother, not quite managing to cover the grief in his eyes. "I'll live, Tygra. I've managed so far."

Tygra watched him leave before sitting down with a deep sigh. What am I supposed to do with you, Bengali? he pondered, forcing himself to run through the usual routine to keep his hands busy. It's not like I can bring her back, nor is there any way she might be alive….

He froze for a moment, recollecting what MoonGlo had told him over a year ago in Mumm-Ra's pyramid. "Tickled… Pink…." Shaking his head, he firmly told himself, "Don't entertain the idea, Tygra. You've no proof, and even if you did, she's still dead."

Stormy shivered as she sat naked in the corner of the treasure room, barely cognizant of the coins and jewels she was sitting upon digging into her thighs. She felt every bruise and scrape vividly, and her shoulder still ached from being dislocated, even though she'd popped it back into place. Gently brushing her hair out of her face, she winced at the sharp pain from her mouth; she hadn't realized her split lip had started to heal around her own hair. Tugging carefully at it, she was distracted by the happy panting of Ma-Mutt as he trotted up to her, dropped her clothes on the floor, and sat beside her expectantly.

She reached out and scratched under his chin with a smile. "Oh, you lovely animal," she cooed to him, standing up so she could get dressed. "No matter how much he tries to crush me beneath his foot, you always brighten my day."

Ma-Mutt kept panting, watching her innocently as she clothed herself.

"Give me just a moment, Shnookums, and I'll play fetch with you. That's what you want, right? Play fetch, play fetch?"

He whined each time she said it, staring at her even more intently with each word, his tail wagging so fast it was a blur.

Before she could do as she promised, however, the door to the treasure room opened. She reflexively cringed as Mumm-Ra strode in; he'd been determined to make her pay all week for his accusation, roughly using her for his own needs without any care for the harm he inflicted on her. Despite knowing this, however, she couldn't help blushing in pleasure. It was rare for him to lavish so much attention on her.

"Ah, my pretty little Slave," he chuckled. She kept her gaze downward, afraid to look up at him in case he decided to hit her again. "I always seem to forget exactly how docile you are. Why I don't come here more often, I have no idea."

Only centuries of practice kept her from blurting out the thoughts within her mind. If it's not the Thundercats occupying your attention, she pondered, it's Charr-Nin, or Zaxx, or some other entity you see as an enemy or a rival.

"I have a gift for you, Slave."

She looked up at him in avid shock. "A… gift?" Concern battled with adoration in her mind. "Master… are you… feeling alright?"

"Better than I have in centuries." He held out a hand mirror engraved with gold, onyx, and sapphires. "For you."

She took it hesitantly, still expecting him to lash out at her without warning. Glancing at her own reflection in the glass, she frowned. The blood from her split lip had flowed all the way down her chin before drying up and flaking off, there was a visible handprint on her left cheek, and both of her eyes sported shiners. I look like crap, she thought miserably, struggling to keep her face blank.

"Ah, I see you like it!" He placed a hand against her hip and pulled her forward so she stood in front of him and he could peer over her shoulder at the image of the two of them together.

She tilted the mirror just slightly, so she could get a far better look at him. Well, I might look like crap, but at least I don't look like a dried-out pudding. "I'm confused, Master," she whispered. "Why are you giving this to me?"

"So you can watch as I start laying out the plans to take over Third Earth, for once and for all." He took her right hand in his, and forced her to touch the glass. As soon as the skin of her fingers pressed against it, the reflection disappeared, replaced with an image of the two of them from several feet away.

She started; she hadn't noticed there was an enormous black-and-blue bruise down the back of her thigh. Where did that come from? I don't remember being hit there. Curious, she looked over her shoulder, where the camera would be if she were looking at video feed, but didn't see anything.

"You see," he continued, much as if he expected her to be unable to think for herself, "this way you can observe your Master as he captures your ex-friends, destroys the Thundercats, and enslaves everyone else for his villainous cause."

He was showing off again—he'd done the same when he overcame Zaxx—but she didn't care. He was paying attention to her, that was all that mattered. She lifted her gaze to his, feeling a grateful smile slowly spread over her face. "Thank you, Master. I shall enjoy watching you defeat your enemies once again."

Vulture-Man hardly paid any attention to what he was eating or even to the other mutants, too intent on the paper he was scribbling his own plans on. Satisfied with his work, he glanced around the dining room out of the corner of his eye, studying the occupants all carefully. Whether or not they realized it, the duchess had them all firmly in the palm of her hand. There was never any better place to be than on the right side of a master manipulator, and she had the skill for it, carefully honed until it was practically a fine art.

Which meant, of course, he was now truly in control.

Manipulators rarely wanted to "be in charge"; they were perfectly happy hiding in the background to achieve their goals. It wasn't that they didn't lust for power, they just lusted for a completely different kind of power, the kind easily hidden from all eyes: the power of the puppet master.

And, even as he watched, every single mutant in the room danced on the ends of their strings to her little black heart's content.

As she left the room on some pretext—supposedly some of the slaves were not doing her bidding as she'd previously ordered—various crude jokes and misogynistic wet dreams were vocalized, ranging from flippant wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am tales to erotic epics involving whips, chains, and handcuffs (not always necessarily imposed upon the female).

Treated as if he were too intelligent to understand the attitudes, a misconception he had no intention of correcting, he resisted the urge to grin as the foul-mouthed stories turned into dick-wagging contests. Every single one of them has fallen for it, he thought, careful to look as if it were the papers he held were causing him to chuckle. She really could walk into the room nude—heck, she probably wouldn't even need to remove her skivvies!—and they'd be at each other's throats in a minute to tap that ass.

Stupid idiots. Easily controlled by a female they all-too-quickly underestimated.

He jumped a little in his seat as the doors crashed open, revealing Mumm-Ra in his powerful form. Although Vulture-Man cringed slightly, it was from annoyance; he held no real fear for the undead devil-priest. Hmm… wonder if he knows about our new "housekeeper".

"Slythe!" Mumm-Ra boomed confidently, posing in the center of the dining area as all eyes fixated on him. "I have a task for you!"

"What is it now, Mumm-Ra?" the reptilian asked, clearly displeased at being interrupted in the middle of his verbal fantasy involving paddle-brushes and raw eggs.

"We need to put a stop to the Thundercats' plans immediately," the ancient sorcerer stated, as if it should have been obvious. "You need to find the rest of the Color Brats before they do. They've already located two more besides MoonGlo and Rainbow Brite," he glanced briefly over his shoulder as Duchess Ravenwaves entered the room, "and we cannot let them—wait, what?!" His head snapped around to look at her more closely, his expression one of utter amazement.

The duchess had a fascinating reaction to Mumm-Ra's presence. Her facial features contorted to reveal a level of absolute loathing bordering on insanity. "YOU!" she screeched at him, pointing an accusatory finger towards his face. "You were the one who trapped me in that casket, weren't you?!"

"You had joined forces with the enemy, you ungrateful brat!" he shouted right back at her, his surprise apparently only momentary. "Did you really expect me to let you off the hook for helping that idiot and her pet sorcerer?!"

"You sure as fuck weren't doing anything," she retorted without missing a beat. "You were holed up in your pyramid like a coward, allowing the Galra to over-run Second Earth because you were too lazy to do it yourself!"

"Coward?! Lazy?! You dare address your sire in such a fashion?!"

"I do dare! 'Ever-living source of evil' my ass! More like 'ever-living source of cowardice and sloth', and it is humiliating to know I'm blood-related to it!"

"I WILL THROW YOU OVER MY KNEE AND SPANK YOU LIKE THE SPOILED CHILD YOU ARE, RAVENWAVES!"

"SPOILED?! YOU ABANDONED ME AS SOON AS YOU FIGURED YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH IT, YOU DEADBEAT!"

As the two continued bickering at the tops of their lungs, the mutants stared in disbelief at the revelation that had been placed before them.

"He… he has offspring?" Jackalman stuttered, so completely abashed he was clearly having trouble stringing words together. "Mumm-Ra… the ever-living… but he's undead… he can't… he wouldn't… he doesn't…." Reluctantly, the jackal glanced at the ancient sorcerer's crotch. "…does he…?"

Monkian, far less shy and probably too stupid to know any better, just full-on stared at the same location as his friend. "Well," he said finally, shrugging as he lifted his goblet to his mouth, "if I were an all-powerful sorcerer, that would be the first thing I'd replace."

"I wonder if we should bother telling him we've been using his daughter as a glorified housekeeper," Slythe mused.

"We should probably stop them before they start throwing things at each other," Vulture-Man insisted, a little concerned at the level of hostility between the two. "We only just finished repairing the holes Bengali made in the castle with the Thundertank last year."

"Hmm… you have a point, buzzard." The reptilian took a deep breath, waited until there was a miniscule moment of silence between parent and child, then shouted out, "Knock it off already, both of you!" As the two turned to glare at him, he continued on, unfazed, "Mumm-Ra, I won't have you upsetting the lady of Castle Plun-Darr; Ravenwaves, your shrieking is giving me a headache, so shut up!"

While Ravenwaves smirked smugly, Mumm-Ra's jaw fell open in shock. "Lady? Lady?! This slut is about as much of a 'lady' as you are!"

"You see any other women in attendance?" Slythe asked sharply, unaware of Vulture-Man's suppressed amusement. "She's the only one we've got here, even if she is a… wait, did you just call her a slut?"

All eyes turned to Ravenwaves, who merely looked disappointed. "Father would spoil the surprise," she sighed regretfully. "I wanted to save it for a special occasion."

The room was instantly filled with leering grins.

"Enough of that!" Mumm-Ra stepped in front of the woman, attempting to block her from the lusting eyes. "Go to your room, Ravenwaves, this is no place for a mewling quim!"

"Excuse me?" she yelped from behind him. "Who do you think is in charge here?"

"Obviously I am, brat, now go to your room and I'll deal with you later!"

"Oh, you are, are you?"

Ignoring the rustling of cloth behind him, Mumm-Ra returned his attention to Slythe. "Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely—WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

Distracted a second time, the ancient sorcerer immediately lost all control of the situation as Ravenwaves stepped out from behind him, sans her dress. Clothed only in a tight black bodice, lacy lavender panties barely large enough to keep her crotch covered, and a pink garter-belt holding up her sheer violet stockings, the female's enticing curves guaranteed she had the undivided attention of every mutant in the room. "Alright," she offered sweetly, holding her arms open wide in an obvious invitation, "who wants me first?"

Barely three seconds lapsed before Jackalman shouted in delight, leapt over the table, and dashed towards her, picking her up in his arms and continuing onward towards the hallway without slowing down. He only stopped at the horrified shout of Mumm-Ra, one foot in the air and the willing Ravenwaves playing with his ears, "Just what do you think you're doing with my daughter?!"

"First come, first serve," the jackal replied with a sneer. "It's consensual, and I'll bet you're just jealous because you can't bang her yourself!"

"Hold on a moment!" Slythe snapped. "What about the rest of us?"

"Draw straws for sloppy seconds!" With that, he ran out of the room, still carrying his temporary prize.

The reptilian didn't wait for long to start shouting out orders. "SLAVES! Get me some straws and a pair of scissors, stat!"

Impressive, Vulture-Man pondered, lacing his fingers together and attempting to look bored. That took less than a minute. These fools really are at her beck and call now. He glanced at Mumm-Ra, fascinated the demon-priest had absolutely no idea how to respond to this situation. I wonder if he'd take offence if I offered my condolences to him… then again, it's more fun to add fat to the fire. "You know, Mumm-Ra," he said, being sure to speak loudly enough so he could be heard, "you did tell us last year we needed to get some wench in here to get us all laid." He grinned at the sour look shot at him. "We're merely following your orders: we've got a wench, and she's getting us all laid."

Stormy stared into the mirror, feeling the bubbling wrath of deep fury start to overflow in her stomach. "His… daughter," she snarled, her hands starting to shake from the force of her grip on the handle. "His… daughter…!" Her thoughts were in a complete disarray, but one idea crawled up to the top of her mind to display itself in its full gruesome glory:

She, Stormy, was not his only lover. He'd lied to her.

Lightning started crackling around her fingertips, slowly enveloping her as it crawled up her arms, across her shoulders, and then down her spine. She could feel her hair standing on end as she slowly stood up, still glaring at the object she held, no longer able to see the image in the glass from sheer vehemence. "You… bastard!" she finally screamed, flinging the mirror across the room and watching as the glass shattered against the wall, its warped base clanging to the floor amid a shower of shards. "You dare play me for a fool?! After all I've done for you, after giving up everything that I am just for you! I betrayed my friends for you!"

Movement caught her eyes, and she turned to look at her master's pet. The dog cowered in a corner, whimpering pathetically at her. "No, Ma-Mutt," she told him gently, her anger still coursing through her veins like fire, "it's not you I'm angry with. Master is the one who will bear the full force of my wrath.

"He. Will. Pay."

Notes:

1. One of Ravenwaves' better ideas from the TV show was to manipulate the population into believing Lady Lovely Locks didn't care for them, American-political-campaign style. Since she was a child in the show and is supposed to be about nineteen here, I decided to make her far more competent when it comes to manipulation.

2. The idea of Ravenwaves being Mumm-Ra's daughter popped into my head one day and entertained me so much I couldn't resist having fun with it.