[Redd]

Thick morning mist filtered through the run-down old church. Occasionally the light of the rising sun would catch it, between buildings, trees and structures and the subsequent effect was quite eerie and serene.

All this, however was ignored by the lone and solitary figure that leant against the exterior with a casual air. The figure was a man of average height, bearing short scruffy hair, a thick denim jacket and trousers to counter the morning chill. What was perhaps strange about the figure was that, he bore wings. Not the usual feathery, white angel wings rather they were a light lavender colour, and a darker purple tainting the tips of each feather and they seemed to rustle with a noise similar to leaves rustling when the man moved them.
Not that he moved too much, thoughts were plaguing his mind at this point.

The figure broke it's quiet still and reached up to rub his eyes. Art wasn't tired, nor stressed, he just wanted to will these doubts from his mind. He'd been chasing and entertaining these insecurities for quite some time - as an aftermath of an encounter with a more experienced enemy that had completely caught him off guard. Art was a man who had previously prided himself on his strength and this loss had been a blow to his confidence and his tolerance levels.
Suddenly restless, Art stuck his his hands into the pockets and started walking. Maybe a few laps of this place would help ease his mind.

(Did I fail~? =| I was a little lost about what to writeee~)

[Jaykobell]

[ Oh my GAWD, EXCITE. D8< Work was intolerable knowing I had this waiting. Homg. Quebecian post, GO. ]

Not so far off from the tormented man was another one; identical, yet different. In the background, hurried footsteps resonated as people rushed to a common point. Some of them were heard screaming, while others were quietly running along the scattered debris of Lya Pointa. For those white coated-men, this dawn was the sign of a new beginning. It was the sign of their luck that was about to turn.
As they all circled around their common meeting point, a child could be seen in the middle of the white circle...



While cornered, the child said nothing. He remained where he was, seemingly defenseless, and about to get either captured or killed by those scientists.

"We've finally found you again! Child P!" one of the scientists exclaimed, pointing a finger at the child. Unbeknownst to literally everyone, the cornered child was a treasured artifact: a child who was born with tremendous, terrifying psychic powers. He was from a powerful bloodline whose children all inherited a special elemental power from their father. Among those children, "Child P" was one of the very rare children who'd inherited psychic powers. Exploiting and finding the gene that allowed those children to be born such abilities: that was their goal. By capturing this child, they would be able to experiment on him and use their research to allow everyone to possess psychic powers of their very own...

"Get him! Get him alive!" Simultaneously, the white men charged at the child, ready to enchain him, literally, once more.

Even then, the child still wasn't moving. The likelihood of anyone being in Lya Pointa at this time of the day was nearly inexistent. Still, he didn't need help.

As those men mindlessly charged in, they were soon met by the child's powers. Eyes glowing a deep brown, the child forced all of them away in a single blow. Those who hadn't lost their balance charged again, their determination strong. And one by one, they fell.

Blood splattered on the debris of the cathedral as the child used his powers to choke them, forced their eyes to pop, forced their brains to implode from inside out; and yet, those who were still standing or alive kept on charging head-on. To them, the fact the child had already lost his mind was unknown.

The bodies kept on flying and crashing into the bigger debris, some of them breaking their spinal cord as they crashed almost straight through thick blocks of stone. After a while, some scientists turned and fled the scene. However, the stubborn ones weren't willing to let their prized little child experiment get away. They, too, were met with tremendous powers, their limbs twisting and turning, hearing their own bones cracking and breaking from inside. In the end, none of them had managed to get close to him. The ones who'd gotten close had only managed to make their blood spill on him.

"Th... Th-that's not what we r-remember..." the leading scientist murmured, wide eyes staring at the child literally destroying his colleagues. "You... You really did turn into a fucking monster!"

With only one prey remaining, the child slowly turned around to face him, some blood covering his face and clothes. His eyes, unusually eerie, were almost serpentine in nature. He grinned softly at the scientist, eyes narrowing almost with satisfaction. "Monster...?" he echoed quietly, so much that the scientist most likely couldn't hear him. "You know what they say? There is nothing to teach the pupil once he has bested his master." With a swift movement of his arms and hands, the boy twisted the last scientist's neck into a loop, a sickening cracking sound resonating in the quiet air of dawn. He, too, slowly fell to the ground, bringing the count to zero.

As quickly as it had been broken, the silence had returned. Now alone, the child looked down at his hand, one of the two that had taken part in this murder. Truly, who was the monster here...?

[Redd]

If Art happened to be a Lucain at this point, his head would have turned and his ears would have either swivelled around or stuck flat against his skull, for reasons he would have not been sure of. As the human he was, his eyes flicked around in an attempt to identify the source of shouting and grisly crunching noises. It was maybe a few metres off, around the corner maybe. Close.
Most people might have fled, terrified of a fear they did could not even see. Others might be a little more naive to think anything of the noise and carry on their merry business. Art did neither, he had an idea of what the noise could be – but he could not fathom the true extent of the violence. Not until he had seen it himself.

A man in a white coat burst out from around a corner and kept running, paying no heed to the figure that stood motionless on the other side of the corner.
‘What... the fuck?’ Art narrowed his eyes and twisted his head to glance back at the terrified man.
A scientist, surely; his stereotypical white coat and glasses gave that much away. What was on the coat caught the half angel’s attention more though was the blood and other unnameable gore splattered across the man’s back. A massacre? The presence of a scientist piqued Art’s interest. If scientists were involved that usually meant that there was something out of the ordinary involved. Scientists didn’t usually hang around Lya Pointa. At least if they had morals and good ethics. Nothing good could come of scientists in the cathedral – this place drew evil creatures to it, like flies to honey and Art was definitely interesting in discovering the cause of their fear.
The half-angel quickly hid his wings, cloaking them in an invisible energy, so that one could only see them if they happened to stare hard and squint their eyes, but even then they’d only see a slight wing-shaped distortion behind the man. If there were scientists, he didn’t want to risk anything. He hadn’t had a good past with the kind – his odd wings, the only form of inheritance that he had – drew scientists to him. They wanted to inject him with things, draw blood out of him, experiment and mess with his DNA; this was probably to ‘enhance’ modern day society and it’s non-flying variety; since he possessed no avian heritage, nor draconic qualities – he was a Lucain and therefore an oddity amongst Evelon’s scientists.
Art briskly rounded the corner, coming to a halt in front of the carnage. His eyes quickly flicked over the scene assessing the danger. Scientists were all dead, in a circle surrounding a child – Art’s eyes paused over the child. Was it this one, that had killed all these men? He was only so young, it was rare for human children to actually possess the capability to kill but there was no other option.
‘Tell me. Was it you who killed these men?’ Art quietly queried, keeping a nervous distance. With what he stood before, he didn’t know what to expect from the child and there was the question of whether his mind was whole. ‘If it were, I am impressed. Not many have those capabilities, especially at such a young age.’
Flattery – perhaps that make the kid pause before considering to kill him. He wore the complete opposite of the scientists – dark black clothing. Perhaps he wouldn’t be mistaken. It was a worthwhile gamble.

(Fffff. It rambles oooooooon and ooooon 8| )

[Jaykobell]

Truly, there wasn't much for the child to do anymore. Things had changed... they had changed so much. After losing the only one who seemed to care for him at all in this world, his mind had gone. His odd powers were more than just psychic abilities; with them had come an unusual power. When close to someone, the child could latch on to the person's heart; their emotions would then be filtered, and this would cause the child to have clouded judgement. It was near impossible to tell fantasy from reality when the "filter" was turned on. Whose feelings was he truly feeling? He couldn't tell.

He started roaming around Lya Pointa aimlessly, seemingly not minding the carnage he'd done. The corpses remained there, with the child nonchalantly walking over or around them if they so happened to be in his way. He would sometimes look down at them, but who knows what was going on in his head at that moment.

He was just minding his business when a voice suddenly spoke from afar. The child stopped on his tracks and looked around to find who was daring enough to speak to him. While a child in appearance, the mind inside that child's body was beyond the age of fifteen. A dark presence, almost feeling inhuman; even he didn't know if he was entirely human or not.
After looking around, he eventually found out who had talked to him. Since the older man was keeping his distance — a wise decision — the child couldn't latch on to his heart. If the man had hidden intentions, he couldn't tell from this distance. Unlike the common psychics, the child did not have the ability to read the minds of others. "Impressed...?" the child mused at Art's compliment, eventually smiling just a little. It was a twisted smile; dark intentions were written all over it. "Nice," he replied as a sort of thanks. "Who are you?"

Dressed in all-black, impressed by his capabilities... Yes, perhaps there was no reason to attack this man and become his enemy. If he managed to get close to him, however, the child would try to find out for sure...

[Redd]

While Art’s mind was clean from any thoughts to harm the child just yet, his heart was jet black and filled with a dark evil, anger and violent turmoil. But that did not mean he would harm the child – he was that smart to know that if he stood in the boy’s way, he’d probably end up like the scientists, nourishment and sustenance for insects, birds and plants. Not a fate he wished for himself at all.
Yet he kept a wary distance – whatever the boy did, there was surely a threshold for it. Art’s cold blue eyes swept over the boy – he possessed no visible weapons but that was no comfort for the half angel; Art understood the strange powers of the supernatural more than anyone, even though he had no clue about the origins of his own powers.

‘I am no one important... But, if you want you can call me Art.’ The half angel replied, keeping his voice flat and level. He briefly paused, wondering if it was necessary to keep his heritage hidden, as he did so often in the company of others but decided against breaking the camouflage just yet. Keeping them hidden was not a struggle these days, but if something broke that concentration they would spring back into view – that was the limited power the half angel had.
The half angel cast about for something to say, to keep the boy’s interest for a little longer, out of curiosity. There was not much for him to do aside from petty theft, murder and abuse. ‘Who were they?’

[Jaykobell]

While he wasn't close enough to feel Art's heart, the child still understood that the man wasn't any holy priest — or holy anything. Anyone who hangs out in Lya Pointa couldn't be holy or good in any way. Still, so long as the man showed no signs of aggression, the child wouldn't retaliate or attack. The idea, really, was to destroy those going after or against him... the others could flee and live if they so wished.

"Art... Like drawing and painting?" the child asked the man, tilting his head a little. Despite his powers making him look like a seasoned and dangerous criminal, his speech and thought-process were really like that of a child's. "That's nice... It's easy to remember," he mused further, that little devilish smile coming up again.

Despite it being common courtesy to tell one's name after being given one from a stranger, Art hadn't asked for the child's name. Therefore, the child didn't introduce himself, and instead, just answered Art's second question. "Oh... They weren't my friends, that's for sure," he replied first, trying to crack a joke. "They were... evil men," he then added, his childish demeanor suddenly changing to something darker. "They wanted to bring me back... But they won't ever bring me back... I'm strong now. I can kill them if they want to hurt me more..."

[Redd]

Art narrowed his eyes at the child’s comparison, sharply reminded about the nature of the boy he was dealing with. ‘I... guess that’s one way to put it.’ He replied curtly, then realising that the boy wasn’t looking like he was about to offer a name in return, followed up with, ‘What can I call you?’

Understanding that he was probably safe enough for now – the child hadn’t made any aggressive moves towards him, nor his speech bear any traces of hostility – Art took a few steps towards the child, closing some of the gap between them.  The child hadn’t fully explained who those men were but Art had gathered enough through perception to have a vague idea of what was going on. But there was still the fact that this kid had single-handedly slaughtered a group of men, with no visible weapon, and nothing to suggest he felt guilt or remorse at their death.

‘Why did they want to catch you?’ Art replied, offering a dark half smile at the child’s joke. He didn’t want to provoke a bad reaction by directly asking the question, rather Art decided a slightly more subtle approach was the way to go.

[Jaykobell]

When Art started getting closer, the child didn't step back, but he kept his brown eyes fixed on Art. The moment the man stepped within the child's "vicinity," the boy immediately used his psychic powers to latch onto Art's heart. While it didn't feel like their hearts were linked by anything, the sensation could become painful to the host. The child started it gently, slowly filtering Art's feelings. The longer the child would latch on, the warmer Art's heart would become. It was a strange feeling, and one that was hard to describe. It felt a bit like a heartburn or like a heartache. However, for the sake of keeping Art's doubts on the child, he was keeping it low. The heartache feeling would only be very, very faint on Art's side. On the child's side, however, his chest was starting to warm up, as well... but in a nice way. How long had it been since he'd latched on to somebody? It felt like it had been forever.

"I'm... Atarxe," the child replied, finally giving away his name. "I'm... special. I come from a special family. My dad... He has really strong powers, and scientists wanted his powers, so he made a lot of babies with a lot of women. And then they experimented on us and they hurt us... I escaped, and now they want to hurt me more." His expression darkened at the mention of those scientists, the psychotic glimmer behind his eyes betraying his appearance. "I want to kill them... I want to hurt them like they hurt me." He was determined to go against an entire group of scientists with the hope of killing them all. It seemed like the kid didn't even come from a "normal" family, so perhaps the lineage had something to do with his malevolent personality... "If you try to stop me... I'll kill you, too. Only if you try to stop me or if you try to hurt me." Fair warning for the stranger. "But... I like how you feel. I like... what your heart is telling me. You're dark... you're really, really dark."

[Redd]

‘That is unfortunate for you, I see where this hate comes from now.’ Art slowly replied, musing over what the other had said. Powers, well that explained a little about the devastation the child had been able to pull off before. He refrained from asking exactly what powers Atarxe possessed, but gathered so much that it was a mental based power, from the final comment the child made.
Perhaps there was a way to coax the child into displaying his powers. Art usually wouldn’t waste so much time around someone so young, but something about Atarxe interested him. He wanted to see what the kid was capable of, and he was extremely bored.

‘I wouldn’t hurt you. Not now, we are too much alike for that. There is no use wasting that kind of energy.’ He shrugged, raising both hands up. He was slightly aware of the odd feeling around his heart, but paid no attention to it, rejecting it as a insignificant past injury playing up. There had been people he had murdered that had put up some form of a struggle and occasionally they would play around.  ‘I have the same... needs but for a different kind of... people.’
This child, Atarxe. He had guts, an impressive amount of guts and determination, perhaps so much that they had taken over his sanity. Art paused over the last comment the child had made, before pulling a small smirk. ‘Dark? Your... heart is telling the truth then.’

[Jaykobell]

As the conversation progressed, something kept sparking Atarxe's interest in Art. Likewise, the man was interesting. He was... dark, too. The child wasn't so ignorant that he thought he could destroy multiple laboratories all on his own. Those powers of his were tremendously overpowered, true; but like with any great power, using too much of it could potentially kill him. If he didn't watch out... He would probably use too much and kill himself on the spot from exhaustion. This sort of power put a huge strain on his mind. When a headache got bad, that his cue to stop.

Atarxe tilted his head at Art, and he smiled a little childish smile; but despite the innocent look of it, his malevolence couldn't really be unseen. "You're dark, too... We're the same. I want to meet more people like you... more people like us... More people who won't hurt me anymore." Whether the seeming attachment of the child towards Art was genuine or not... it was hard to tell for sure. "Say... You want to play together? If you help me, I'll help you, too... We could kill all those who hurt us together." His voice was even, monotonous, and it had this eerie sound to it. A child didn't speak this way; a child didn't think this way. Everything Atarxe said had a childish ring to it, but it was twisted with malevolence. "Your heart... it's really tormented... Mine is, too. If you tell me who you're after... I can go after them, too."

[Redd]

The flat coldness in Atarxe’s voice chilled the half angel – not that it could be said to be a bad thing though. They were the same in that; yes both of their hearts were black, tainted, twisted. But they were different in that Art possessed fire and darkness, whereas Atarxe possessed ice and darkness; or so it seemed anyway. Nay, Art liked that chilled feeling – he was glad that he had found another like-minded individual who he didn’t feel compelled to get into a power struggle with.

‘Play...?’ Art paused, torn between pride and curiosity. He didn’t need any kid to help deal with his own problems – or so his pride told him. His facial features settled into a satisfied smirk. ‘I’d be happy to help out and let you help me. It’ll be fun. I haven’t been out for a while.’

Again, the half angel paused, considering the child’s statement. He didn’t know exactly what to reply with – his enemies were his ‘siblings’ (or so they said, he wasn’t entirely convinced due to their secrecy) and people he had lost fights with – personal enemies who had humiliated him. Sure, there might be others – places where his name was wanted for a few messy and miscalculated murders, and he wouldn’t hesitate to murder anyone who dared to try and bring him in and perhaps those who wanted to capture him for his odd heritage and appearance – but no one at this current moment he wanted dead. He usually just entertained himself through petty murders.
‘I have no personal enemies of such... at the moment. Those who stood in my way don’t exist anymore. But I’m sure if we looked hard enough, there would be those who want me dead or locked up for what I am.’ He replied, pausing again as he heard faint scratching sounds. ‘Hang on... do you hear that?’
Art poked his head around the corner and quickly withdrew it, after noting a few ratty canines, specifically Lucain, Werecain, Sheilupe and a Sahound. ‘Dogs.’ He offered Atarxe as an explanation. ‘I don’t know if they’re strays, or if they belong to your ‘friends’ but you could always demonstrate that interesting ability of yours to me if they turn malicious.’

(Fffffff... Clichés and unoriginal bad guys ftw. And. I left it a little ambiguous. Because I didn’t knnnoooow what you wanted ;^; )

[Jaykobell]

Since it was impossible to tell reality from fantasy when Atarxe was filtering somebody's feelings, his own heart was pumped by the emotions of the host. Since Art's emotions were so dark and malevolent, Atarxe's were only increased by the filter. The more he latched on to Art's heart, the more villainous the child wanted to be; the more he wanted to do terrifying things.

"Really...?" Atarxe replied in a sort of innocent, genuinely pleased voice. "That's really great... You're the first one. We can be... friends." Nobody ever took notice of him; nobody ever tried to befriend him. He was always seen as a monster, as a "pawn." Those days were over; he was now on his own, and his malicious personality could now be free; he could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted... It was truly wonderful.

As they were familiarizing, the two were suddenly ambushed by a bunch of wild pets. Atarxe looked around, and he shook his head. "I dunno who owns them... Does that matter to kill them?" the child replied as he looked at the wild pets. While they didn't look famished and near-death, they were certainly in bad shape, and their condition was most likely enough to make them attack Art and Atarxe.
At the mention of him using his abilities if the strays proved to become aggressive, Atarxe tilted his head. "You saw what I can do... You should show me what you can do." Art took a peek while Atarxe had been busy killing off those scientists. Atarxe, however, hadn't seen what Art could do. And with such a dark, twisted heart... the child figured Art couldn't be too shabby himself.

Either way, the two would have to react quickly, for the beasts wouldn't wait for their little chat to be over and settled. With a few growls and barks, the starved and tired pets leaped. The Lucain had tarnished wingblades that clearly showed a lack of care; the Werecain's tail blades looked dull and almost harmless; the Shielupe still had their ribbons, but their ribs showed through their fur; and finally, the Sahound looked to be the scrawniest of them all, smaller and younger. While it barked and growled, it didn't lunge like the others.

[Redd]

'... Friends?' Art queried raising his eyebrows. 'Though, I am not opposed to the idea and I do not entertain the one I'm about to propose, you should not befriend people so easy. There are many out there who wish to fool you, then stab you when your back is turned.'

Art had no idea that the child was filtering his emotions and getting off on them, but it wouldn't have bothered him even if he did know. In fact, he'd remain true to his nature and use that as a means of stirring Atarxe up to create a monster - something he had picked up off his former tutor.

'I do not think it matters. We're just loitering and they're choosing to come after us.' Art chuckled at the comment, not exactly bothered by the approaching animals. 'I saw the aftermath of what you did. Not you in action, but okay. I don't possess... whatever freak of nature ability that you do though. Sorry to disappoint.'

The half angel reached into his jacket pocket and flipped out a knife in one hand and a small pistol in the other, then stood back eying off the approaching 'wolf pack'. There were two alpha Lucain, one a brown Warrior and the other a tawny Striped; in addition to that, there was a Common Werecain, a Bleached and a Saffron Shielupe, and a Void Sahound. Art selected the Werecain to be his first target, sizing it up, and the situation. Then, suddenly, he jumped - propelled by his invisible wings - over the two Lucain, dropping down beside the Werecain.
The half angel quickly plunged the knife - aware of how much little time he had before the rest of the pack descended onto him - into the Werecain's kneecap and twisted it, resulting in a grisly 'crack' and a spray of blood. He then wrenched it out, failing to avoid a blow from one of the dog's tails, though dull one blade managed to catch his arm, breaking the skin. Art ignored it, - aside from breathing several profanities -  darting forward, slashing the knife down the Werecain's muzzle and chest, while deflecting another blow with the rifle. The slash ripped open the Werecain's snout, exposing bloodied gums, teeth and muscle. Then Art plunged the knife into the dog's neck, and fired a shot out at the approaching Shielupe and Lucain. He possessed only small arms on his body, the rest he had left at home - thought a club or sword were apparently terribly old fashioned and unsightly at the moment.

'Wanna join in?' Art called over the angry dog's heads towards Atarxe.

(I... think that's okay :c )

[Jaykobell]

While he had no time to reply to Art's comment about them being friends, Atarxe didn't mind the cynical remark too much. He knew the extent of his skills, and he knew he could kill and dispatch anyone who dared to backstab him. He wasn't a weak child or a soft boy; he was malevolent, and he could use his powers to get rid of anyone. Perhaps he was overconfident, but in his little head, he knew he was right and that he had nothing to fear.

He watched carefully as Art lead the attack, using a knife and a pistol. Clearly, the man didn't possess this... Wait, what had he called Atarxe's abilities? Truly, the kid hadn't thought so nice of it. "I'm not... a freak of nature... Nor are my powers..." the child muttered as his eyes glowed a deep brown color. He put his hand in the direction of one of the two Shielupes, and with a swift twisting movement, the Shielupe's neck twisted along. A loud and sick cracking sound resonated before the dog slowly collapsed on the ground.

As one of the Lucain — the Striped specimen — was about to jump on Art from behind, Atarxe took ahold of the dog in midair. Confused, the canine started flailing and struggling against the invisible energy that was carrying him. Swiftly, Atarxe moved his hand accordingly to force the dog against a rock. A loud thud was heard, along with a piercing yelp from the Lucain. The child repeated the maneuver, basically bashing the Lucain against the rock multiple times, up until the dog was so broken and bloodied that it barely looked like a Lucain.

But maybe that had been a little bit too much. As he stopped bashing the Lucain, Atarxe started feeling a headache coming. The child narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth slightly. As tremendous as his powers were, his mind's tolerance was another story. Since he hadn't used his powers so much before, it put a huge strain on his mind. A despicable fact, but a fact Atarxe had to accept if he wanted to best his own mind.

As he was busy trying to tone that headache down, the second Shielupe took the opportunity to attack him. Being a child, the Shielupe figured he would be an easier target than Art. The canine used his ribbons to grab the child while he was distracted, and caught, Atarxe was thrown a few feet away, causing him to crash against a stone himself. It was, quite literally, a taste of his own medicine. The child winced as little rocks tumbled down besides him. While he wasn't unconscious, he was quite dazed at the moment.

[Redd]

Art’s eyes widened at the power Atarxe was demonstrating. This was certainly not what the half angel had been expecting – then again he hadn’t known what to expect – but, he was impressed by what he saw. No, telekinesis or something of a sort was not something Art expected, and he was slightly distracted by that, that he hadn’t noticed the second Lucain coming at him. The dog bore down on the half-angel, but due to the angle that Art was standing at compared to the Lucain, the Lucain crashed into Art’s currently invisible wings and tumbled off course. Art crashed to the ground, falling face down onto the now dead Werecain with a grunt and losing control of the cloak. He then rolled over and came face-to-face with the Warrior Lucain again, though this time the dog had the advantage, of standing over the top of the half-angel. Art quickly threw his hands up in an attempt to stop the dog ripping open his face and delivered a solid kick to its chest, throwing it off him.
The Lucain yelped and reeled back, stopping to investigate it’s wounds. Taking this opportunity, Art whipped the gun back out and put a bullet through the dog’s head while it was distracted.

Art glanced around, quickly trying to assess the situation – there were still two Shielupe and the nervous Sahound to deal with, and Atarxe seemed to be down. Art shot at the second Shielupe’s heels disabling the dog and quickly came over to check on Atarxe – now that they were fighting together, Art did have enough decency to make sure the kid was still alive at least.
‘Hey, kid. You still with us?’ Art queried, eying off the last of the dog pack and gripping both of his weapons threateningly. ‘Also.  I was joking. I’m more of a ‘freak of nature’ than you’ll probably ever be.’
Art flung his knife at the already disabled Shielupe; the blade flew true, eagerly burying itself into the dog’s side though not in any sort of vital area. ‘Fucking  hell. Die already.’ Art growled impatiently and fired another shot at the dog – he was running low on rounds and right now didn’t seem like a very good time to actually reload the blasted thing.