"So when can I shoot it?"
Stanley barely had time to process the answer before Daryl jogged into the computer room and returned, dragging a battered, dirty target across the workshop floor.
"Bit late for target practice, isn't it?" Johnny asked.
"It's only like…" Daryl checked the square wall clock near the break area on the stairs. "Eleven ten."
Johnny looked at him.
"…That's late, Daryl."
"Depends."
Daryl: "Aim, bro."
Stanley looked at him, standing a bit away from the target with a faint smile, confused.
"Wait, ammo?"
Lori: "Power cell, Stanley."
He looked at her, who had a somewhat happy face.
Stanley brushed off her look and shrugged with a big frown that looked sarcastic.
"Now, how am I meant to know what that means?"
The three of them looked at him.
It was probably the most emotion he'd shown all day in their eyes.
Daryl: "The power cell is the ammo. It's a weird process to explain to you. It creates its own bullets, man, but why make that face?" He smiled, squinting his eyes. Daryl leaned back on the table, waist hitting the edge. Johnny glared at him for a millisecond.
"Uh, I don't know." He quickly turned down that question, putting back his standard blank face on.
Then, he raised the gun to shoulder height. He stood side-on, right foot forwards, left facing sideways, and closed his left eye to line up his right with the small scope.
A second. Two. Three.
BLAM!
Before anyone could even blink, the bright white projectile crossed the workshop. The bullet rocketed into the neck of the target that was designed to be the torso of a human head. It shot out before anyone could think, and then the bullet hit the concrete floor and rolled around.
THUMP!
The target hit the floor with a clang of metal, then the actual dummy jiggled around for a bit.
All within three seconds.
Stanley first aimed the gun straight down, holding it with two hands to counter the slight recoil.
{I thought it would have a lot of force. Damn Daryl. Bless you.}
His eyes widened, looking at the gun, turning it, admiring every side, component, and detail. The corners of his mouth raised, then sank when someone spoke.
"Fucking hell…"
Johnny crouched beside the target and ran his fingers around the entry point. He could feel the heat and the smoothness of the ballistic jelly. A cylinder, he could imagine if he closed his eyes and thought about what his fingers were feeling around.
"Clean entry."
He looked back at Daryl, who was also feeling around, smiling and seriously analysing the work.
"Nothing to worry about here."
Johnny and Daryl went straight up to the dummy to investigate, with Lori putting her hands in her pockets, curious as well, but not enough to join in.
Lori: "Hey, you."
She turned her body to face Stanley, who was admiring the gun a little too much. He flicked his head up to her and replied, "Yeah?"
"Promise me this. I know we don't know each other, but don't—"
"Promise what?"
Stanley interrupted her and squinted a tiny amount. Enough for Daryl to interpret his body language and get his focus on Stanley. Lori seemed a bit annoyed by the interruption that lasted a millisecond.
Lori: "Don't get trigger-happy." She leaned her head down a little bit, then pointed her index finger at the gap between Stanley's eyebrows.
"This is the real world. Not a game."
Stanley replied fast: "Yeah, sure. Easy done." He smiled, then switched back to a straight face, looking at the dummy. Unusual for him.
Daryl took note of this with one side glance.
"…"
Daryl: "Stanley, you want to look at this?"
He was on his knees, looking and ushering Stanley with his hand to come over.
"Yeah."
He walked over fast and crouched near Johnny, nearly bumping into his hat with his head.
Stanley: "Wait, where's the entry point?"
"Right there." Johnny put his finger right on the right side of the dummy, near the throat and the collarbone. A visible hole remained above Johnny's rough finger.
Stanley then felt around the area, just like Daryl and Johnny did.
{What the.}
{Heh. Is this a perfect shot?}
{Daryl… Am I the right person for something like this?}
Stanley took a few faint breaths, but they could be heard if you were in front of Stanley's face, which Daryl was. Daryl watched Stanley's breathing for a second.
"Wow. Not much to say except holy shit. I'm not sure if someone like me can hold this."
Daryl: "You are. Just stop self-doubting. If you spend all day doubting yourself, you'll never use the thing properly. Sun Tzu said that or something, I don't know."
He shrugged and shook his head at the last comment.
Stanley chuckled lightly at Daryl's stupid last comment.
"Shut up. Sun Tzu didn't say that, dumbass." He looked at him with a faint grin.
Then Lori yawned and tapped Daryl on the shoulder.
"Motherfucker, come on. Don't we have to prepare for a contract thing?"
Daryl opened his eyes wide, looking up at Lori using Johnny's nickname for him while she looked completely serious.
"Oh come on. Not you too."
He shook his head while getting up and looking at her. The other two did so as well.
Johnny: "We should actually start prepping. Pack'n'shit."
Stanley: "Wait, when are we going to leave, Johnny?"
He looked at the clock again.
"Something like two hours."
Daryl: "STANLEY! WE NEED CLOTHES FOR YOU."
He grabbed his wrist suddenly, and Stanley followed him, putting the gun in his pocket, as clothes were a worry for him too.
BEEP!
Daryl, without looking, slammed the red button down on the roller doors, making them start closing.
Johnny and Lori immediately grabbed all necessary stuff, like Johnny's suitcase, and ran out before it got halfway closed.
Johnny screamed at him once he ran out to the red dusty ground. By the time Johnny looked up again, Stanley and Daryl were already halfway across the dusty yard, walking in perfect step without even noticing it and without the wrist holding, and they were at least two hundred metres away.
"OI!"
"FUCK YOU DARYL!"
Johnny screamed out, then whistled like a farmer with his fingers trying to grab his attention, and then Lori swore with a grin on her face.
———————————————————————————————————————-
"Daryl. Why is your room so cosy?"
"Invested well, man. Invested alright."
Daryl and Stanley went back to the dormitories, arriving at the door of Daryl's bedroom, next to Oblivion and Oswald and directly across from Chidieberre.
Stanley didn't expect to see a comfy, fluffy room full of warm, winter stuff, such as a fluffy carpet that replicated woolly mammoth texture with grey colour, A big king-sized bed with textured blankets of beige, brown and white and a quilt underneath it all of black, which matches his black bed sheets; and ivory pillows. A mini chandelier hung from the top, and a giant mirror that seemed to be put in a corner as decoration stood out heavily next to his metal desk with a laptop and a few plastic bottles of assorted sodas.
Stanley and Daryl stood right at the entrance, and before Stanley looked around, he was amused and walked around. Daryl went to his wardrobe hidden behind sliding doors while Stanley took a peek at another room.
Shhhhhhh…
The modern door pushed open smoothly; the air blew faintly from the dense door, revealing a heavily modern bathroom in a small space. "YO. No way." Stanley let out an audible expression at the sight of the open shower, marble-tiled floor, a perfect ceramic toilet in a corner, and a special sink made of a unique material. The sink stood out to Stanley first, striking his curiosity about materials.
Stanley immediately walked towards the sink, put his two hands on the corners of it, feeling its texture while looking down at it.
"Ay man, what, the sink stands out to you?"
Daryl walked to the entrance of the bathroom, leaning on the half-opened door without it moving.
"Is this aluminium? Zinc? Hell, even mercury?"
Stanley kept admiring it, mouth slightly open with an intrigued expression.
Then he glanced at the circular mirror.
He smiled. He saw himself. A twenty-one-year-old man walking around in an oversized white shirt, cotton pants and cheap sneakers. His long brown hair mimicked the surfer curtains hairstyle, a messy middle part that looked like he came from the beach, but he came from the bed. His full-looking eyebrows made his eyes seem more masculine than his skinny beige-coloured body was letting on.
He closed his smile. Straightened up his posture
He then looked at himself, brought his eyebrows down, bit his inner cheeks slightly, and stared at his face.
Tilted his head, then to the right.
"Hmm."
He raised his right eyebrow perfectly, much to Daryl's confusion that he could casually do that as a Suran.
"Yeah, the sink's made of solid rubidium; come on. You got your bedroom to check yourself out in."
He walked out, raising his head in a nod while looking at him in the mirror.
Still, he stood there.
His eyes became more emphasised when Daryl left.
The corners of his mouth fell lower than the straightness it normally has.
Eye bags appeared, forming when he changed his eye format to look depressed. He didn't change it on purpose either.
A natural reaction from him. He grabbed his hair with his right hand, raising it up, before shoving his hands through it to texture it.
{I'm really ugly. wow. I can't stand me. All this, natural facial structure, and physical appearance. Even this fucking hair. It's not enough. I won't be enough as a Suran. Surgery. heh. Endgame time of this Surane appearance. }
He closed his eyes. tensed them for a few seconds before making an inner wish.
{Dear god, if you really are out there, I'd like my wish to come true soon. please. I want love. Oh, I do. I want to find someone different than Diane, but still as original as her. If that even makes sense. If I ever find this person, I'd wish, not want, her to be someone who loves me for my personality and for the sake of comfort. Hell, our bonding time could just be vaping on a balcony. No words said. I'm getting off track. If this person is real and true, reveal her soon. Amen.}
He opened his eyes and walked out of the bathroom to see a few shelves open from his wardrobes and clothes located on the bed. Two piles. One was messily thrown, and one was neatly plopped and folded.
Daryl: "Took you long enough. I folded some clothes from my wardrobes. Change."
Stanley: "Why?"
"We're leaving soon, duh. We have a sort of clothes policy when we do our business. It makes us stand out and seem better than normal people. Not my words."
"Uh, okay. Which pile's mine?"
Daryl plopped down on the bed edge, sitting and patting a pile closest to Stanley.
"Now, I'll get changed here; you do shit in the bathroom. Simple?"
"Yeah, yeah."
Stanley grabbed the clothes, walked towards the bathroom again, and then briefly looked at Daryl, just to turn back at the sight of denim pants on the edges of his feet, grey boxers being shown.
Daryl: "Fuck off. What? Stop looking and change, creep."
"Aight."
Daryl successfully changed into his new clothes much faster than Stanley, as he had time to pack away spare clothes and fold his clothes, then threw his casuals in the laundry basket in a corner like he was shooting "3s" in basketball.
Shhhhhhh…
The door opened again, and Stanley walked out with the posture of a confident man, wearing the kind of expression that made him look like he looked down on everyone.
Stanley: "Jeez, man. Fucking Tallurre's wardrobe over here."
He then squinted at Daryl, who stood like a model, posing for a camera dramatically for Stanley to notice.
"Pfff. I can't really hate on this, except for the fact it looks like I own a casino and I walk around it every day," said Stanley.
Daryl: "Ay? Good, innit?" He shrugged while raising his arms outwards. His happy face didn't add to the rich outfit he was wearing.
The only difference between Stanley and Daryl was that Daryl was wearing a trench coat of charcoal black material, and Stanley wore an outer blazer of the same colour. Everything else was made to be the same.
Stanley: "Now. Hey man, I'm really feeling unique here. I'm going to stand out, as you said here. Maybe not in a good way."
Daryl: "Dude. You're getting married in that fucking outfit. You're standing out like a civilised man." He walked up to Stanley, then tapped his shoulder, and Stanley did the same in response.
"Also, we have to go soon. Let's head out of this room once I clean up my hair." He dashed past, walking elegantly on purpose, then slammed the bath door hard.
Stanley looked at the door for a few seconds, then walked to the mirror to check himself out for the third time. First outside the bathroom.
The greatest detail, the blazer, reached halfway down his thighs, its fitted cut narrowing around his waist before falling perfectly straight. Hidden fasteners kept the front uninterrupted, while smooth satin lapels softened its sharp geometry. Its texture felt smooth, woven and natural, like silk. Underneath was a white high-collared shirt with hidden buttons.
Completing the top part of the outfit was a titanium-looking collar clasp instead of a tie.
His slim-fitted trousers were made of Ryline, a material incapable of wrinkling even under dire situations, provided it doesn't break. Its colour was that of jet black.
His impact-resistant shoes were a hybrid of sneakers and dress shoes, seeming to be comfortable and durable.
The last standout thing would be the lapel pin, also known as a brooch. Pinned to the left lapel rested a brushed titanium ring with a deliberate break at its crown, the Broken Halo. Small enough to be forgotten yet become the standout key feature among the people who know the business. It spreads a message that if you see it, someone has requested anything, which the group was known for being capable of doing.
This is Stanley Kleitos, the new member of Broken Halo, a renowned people-for-hire group, now dressed as he belongs.
A smirk managed to escape his self-hate and appear right on his face. His teeth were shown in the awkward grin. Someone was happy.
"Come on, let's go. Open that door."
Daryl went out of the bathroom and stood at the door, on his phone. Stanley didn't even notice, which caused a bit of embarrassment for himself internally.
"Oh-uh. Yeah…" He took a step back, then regained his composure and opened the door for him, and they both walked out. Daryl was seemingly carrying a suitcase randomly that Stanley never got to see.
Stanley: "Where have we got to go this time?"
Daryl: "Just the break room this time. That's all, man."
"Cool. Also, why did you have MY clothes? Shouldn't that have been given to me?" Stanley asked curiously.
"I don't know. Ask Magnus. That guy knows stuff, alright." He shrugged.
Stanley looked displeased at that answer. Couldn't he have just said where he got it from?
The both of them walked outside in thick clothes. The clothes looked particularly cinematic in the red, dusty wind and ground, where they both tried to look cool by walking. The two of them both tried showing off, walking flashier and flashier with each glance at each other.
Until they spotted Jordan walking there as well, which they then stopped.
Jordan: "Oh, you two." He nodded at both, and they in return nodded back.
His outfit was similar to the two in front of him, with a black formal uniform, except he was wearing a dark grey baseball cap, which was light on his head, pointing high to the sky.
{Yeah, um, whoever designed the uniforms, bless your soul, man. You gave all of us the same black/grey everything uniform, except that it seems like each member got a key detail that separates them. Jordan's cap, my blazer, and Daryl's trench coat. heh. What a legend you are.}
Jordan kept walking in the same direction, left from Daryl's and Stanley's paths, and they merged with his own path. They didn't say anything at all. Until they fully moved closer together, walking to a faraway building that seemed to be rather large.
Daryl: "Nice outfit, dude."
Jordan: "Thanks."
Stanley: "…"
Not much was said. Daryl didn't feel like talking to Jordan; Jordan seemed like he didn't mind their presence but didn't care enough to start a conversation, and Stanley wasn't confident enough to start a talk with Daryl, let alone Jordan, who never looked bothered one time by his own self.
It was an awkward, quiet walk in the warm heat that blanketed kindly on the three of their own bodies.
Daryl: "Ladies first."
Jordan stepped through the door first, smugly letting the corners of his mouth sink while looking at Daryl faintly. Stanley quietly smiled at Daryl before walking in next.
{Okay, big J seemed to be fine with his stupid comments. I thought he would get, like, really angry at the most random stuff, since that's his anomaly's property.}
Inside the room were sturdy white rectangular tables all lined up in rows and columns, each with the initials of each member carved tiny onto the bottom middle of it, with the rest of the members all using the tables to either sit, pack stuff into bags, play a card game or left to be empty.
The rest of the room was painted white, sturdy and hard. Bright white lights shone down onto the members, with the many windows on two walls, not including the entry ones, being the only other shining natural colours of brown, red, orange and more warm autumn colours.
Daryl's was being used by Oblivion, who sat with a few of the new members, Oswald, Aurora and Chidieberre, playing blackjack while chatting happily.
Each of them wore the same standard-issued uniform, except with their own item.
Aurora had a version of her clothes that seemed normal, but where her clothes weren't, her opacity returned. Normally for her, the opacity of her being bypasses clothes, becoming just as affected as her skin when in contact, but these clothes didn't. Her hands still looked somewhat hollow; her beige skin on her face was still see-through, and her natural pearl-pink hair was still missing something solid that would make it look normal. Her dyed black eyebrows were still affected.
Oswald's extra piece was a pair of fluffy sheepskin boots that looked like simple home wear but were reinforced to be just as safe as the standard sneaker/dress shoe hybrid everyone else was wearing.
Chidieberre and her goth style were included in her outfit, wearing her usual makeup of white foundation, eyeliner and a jet-black, straightened bob cut. It seemed less heavy than usual, seeming more like an aesthetic rather than following traditional goth. She also had a big duffel bag on the edge near her side that had a lot of compartments.
Oblivion already seemed like he was fit for the formal style of the uniform, with the only detail he had being a pair of thick, black headphones that rested on his neck at the moment. From far away, even the sound of something ambient can be faintly heard. Oblivion, as a Nullari, can't be comfortable without some form of sound, as that was what his race was based around. Vibrations.
On some of the other tables, Lori was putting stuff in another duffel bag by herself on her table near a window on the far end of the entrance, on the left. She seemed to be putting a bunch of important-looking wrapped-up things in black bubble wrap inside and necessary items. Weapon-looking stuff; doctor supplies, such as syringes, bandages and ointments, and packages wrapped in cardboard.
On the table next to her in the back row sat Tono, leaning back on the edge of the table, tilting the chair and reading a book casually.
The row next to the one that had Lori, Tono, Oblivion and the rest was empty, missing people except one. Jordan was on the one next to Tono's, standing and leaning on the table, his back bent close to a right angle, texting on his phone with both hands clasped.
He looked fairly interested in doing just that while waiting for Magnus to come.
The next row from there had just two others, Sheng-Ri, who was lying down on two white chairs with cushions and a pillow she brought for no reason except to sleep. She was also wearing her uniform, with a pair of sunglasses next to two briefcases. She was wearing a thick eye mask, which wrapped around her entire head, and it seemed to be one of those that played music directly into your eardrums without hurting them at such a frequency. Her left leg was bent, and her right was lying straight down, and her arms were on top of the eye mask, crossed and wrapped around each other. Doesn't look like she needs to be bothered.
Before Stanley could finish looking at the rest of the room, Daryl walked fast towards his table and excitedly commented to the group, which was far from Stanley.
"Now, there's a reason why personal tables exist, y'all!"
Oblivion: "Yes, but I improvised. I figured you wouldn't mind." He snickered.
Stanley couldn't see Daryl's face, but he could notice the tensing up of his body, seeming reactive to such a comment.
{Fucking jerk. Look at Daryl; he seems uncomfortable at your fucking carelessness, using his table. He carried a fricking suitcase here, ay.}
Chidieberre: "I'll just move; it's all goo—"
Daryl immediately interrupted her, and the group's attention went back to him, whose hands were on the table.
"No, no, no. Keep playing. It's all good, playing on my table without my permission."
He said with an uncanny smile to the new people, who all had their own version of unique, awkward looks at him. Oblivion kept a straight face.
Oswald: "Well, He said so. Let's continue." Oswald tried forgetting about the man who was directly above him, with his hands close to his.
The other three looked back at him, who wanted to forget and keep playing, and back at Daryl, who slowly looked more and more with deep, happy, smiling fury.
Aurora: "Yeah, sure. Oblivion, hit me."
Chidieberre: "Yeah."
"I'll stand."
"Card's coming right n-"
Daryl plopped his suitcase right down onto the middle of their game, on the cards that had just been dealt. Oswald had to quickly move his hand, or else they would've been flattened by the grey plastic suitcase.
The whole table went silent.
They looked agitated at Daryl, who smiled happily while unpacking his suitcase, trying to get an item.
A few seconds of silence went by, with the heavy, cold glances at someone who just broke their game.
"Oh, remember?"
'Remember what, jackass?"
"This is MY table, right? I still get to place shit, right, man?"
He spoke in an extremely mocking tone, like an elementary teacher explaining a rule to a little kid who doesn't understand anything that isn't in a high-pitched and overly positive tone.
"Aight, Daryl."
"…"
"Come on. Move tables."
They all stood up slowly, pushing back their seats while Daryl kept taking out stuff from his bag, purposefully putting it on top of cards, making it harder for them to collect it for them.
Once they finally moved all the stuff, they moved the tables.
Faint comments can be heard while they all moved together, like a friend group that excluded another person.
One comment particularly got heard from Daryl.
Oswald: "Who does that guy think he is? The main character?" While he had his arm around Chidieberre, who took it off after.
{Fucking hell. Kind of a dick comment there, buddy. Wait, Daryl's moving to him. Shit—}
At the moment Daryl was doing his little thing, Stanley went to his table and sat down with absolutely nothing on it except his infinite ammo gun. His table was next to Tallurre's table, who still wasn't here, and in the next row was Jordan, who looked up from his phone to see the incoming beef. So did most of the Broken Halo, except Sheng-Ri and other members minding their own business.
Daryl walked over fast and jerked Oswald's shoulder, who looked extremely surprised at his reaction. Oblivion stayed right next to Daryl, watching his next move, and the other two took a step back from the mechanic, who looked angry now.
"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"
He shouted that in his face, grabbing his shirt and causing Oswald to have an expression of fear building.
"W-what?"
"ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION, YOU DISOWNED SON OF A WHORE."
His facial expressions got deeper with every second Oswald couldn't think. He clearly wasn't in such a state that he could talk his way out of a simple question that seemed to get in his head.
"No. No way I'm listening to y—"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, bro." Oswald tried standing his ground.
"I'm not your bro." Daryl's tone got deeper.
"Oh yeah. Right. You're the main character. Sorry, king."
Daryl started changing facial expressions to disgust.
"Ew. No. Don't use that tone; you're not a gangster."
"Well, bro, let me be honest here."
"Go right ahead, pimple face."
"…" Oswald paused.
"Never mind. Fuck you." He pushed Daryl.
"Oh REALLY?" Daryl almost started boiling with anger. His arms raised up in a boxing position.
"Oh shit!" Oswald put his arms out before Daryl even had the chance to walk.
"Man! Daryl! We work at the same job! You won't do that here!"
"…"
"Don't fight me! It ain't worth it!" He bumped Oblivion's shoulder, who took a step away from him.
"So. You think Oblivion is going to stop me from you…"
"Yeah. Pure Nullari right there. Heh."
Oblivion looked away from him when he tried looking at him for cooperation.
"So let me, heh, get this straight. Heh."
"You try, heh, acting tough, putting on a gangster accent."
"Then try to use your so-called pure Nullari to help. Heheheh."
He counted it with his fingers, while eyeing down Oswald.
Daryl laughed in his face; a wild expression of satisfaction appeared. His conclusion of Oswald's personality hit Daryl.
"HAHHAHAHEEEEHHEEEEHHHAAAAAAA!!!"
It was a loud one, causing attention to go to Oswald, Oblivion and mostly Daryl, who was laughing at the nervous breakdown of a man who couldn't handle the uncomfortable situation he never thought would happen.
"I know what type of person you are, you fucking K—"
Oblivion instantly pushed his back, covering his mouth while doing so. Some members called out, "Woah, woah woah!"
Others just stared in shock that Daryl tried saying an offensive racial slur to Oswald, who looked not in fear and crying but in a state of inner rage, trying to hold on to his emotions at the sad situation he brought himself into.
"—See! LOOK AT HIM! LOOK!"
Daryl pointed when Jordan and two others were questioning him while he pointed at Oswald. He looked like he was going to kill him.
"You two. Calm your emotions. Daryl, I know you can easily, but don't do that shit."
"Yo, man, Shit, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING???"
"I DON'T LIKE SPOILED PEOPLE, YOU TWO! HE PROBABLY HAD THE WORLD GIVEN TO HIM BY SIR NAVVARROX."
Oblivion: "Os, I know what he tried saying." He talked to Oswald, who was still standing where he was.
"Mhm." He saw Daryl staring back at him, who smiled widely and uncannily.
Oswald: "Veryon, I don't like him. Do something, like tell him not to talk to me."
Oblivion looked down on him, confused.
"Uh, no?"
"Mhm." Oswald walked away, fast-paced.
By the time he made it to his table and sat down hard, the door swung open. Tallurre and Magnus speedily walked in suddenly, making the rest of them calm down and put their focus on the two.
"Hey, Broken Halo. I'm guessing some shit went down?" Magnus loudly announced, which awoke Sheng-Ri with his confident voice and new appearance, at least for Stanley.
"Yeah."
"Mhm."
"Oswald and Daryl had a thing ha—"
"Yep."
"Sure, Something did happen th—"
"Yeah, Magnus."
"Yeah, MAN! SOMETHING DID H—"
The broken Halo tried speaking at the same time. It didn't obviously work, with Magnus interrupting them.
Tallurre: "Sir Turner, just as you said." He turned his head left, to Magnus, who smiled with his hands in his black pants.
Magnus: "PACK YOUR BAGS! CONTRACT ONE IS OFFICIALLY UNDERWAY! I DON'T CARE WHAT HAPPENED, AS LONG AS YOU RESOLVE IT." ON THE SHUTTLE!"
"WE ARE HEADING TO THE LEEASH SYSTEM, LOCATED IN SECTOR 346."
The group started getting their shit together fast and steadily. The people who weren't at their tables ran or jogged. They didn't want to deal with their employer like that.
"MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT! HAUL ASS!"