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Idiot Launch
Jonathan Gulley continued from This time I might just disappear ))

Another day of nothing done. Jonathan just felt confused and exhausted. He didn't know where anyone went. He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know where he was at. He didn't know anything...

He tried to check the radio tower now that it was open, but gunfire stopped him. He watched from a distance as a girl shot another classmate off of her, before he decided it was a good idea to leave. He ended up on the other side of the island. It was too late to turn around, and he was just too tired to do anything. He needed to rest, to eat something, he was starving, and he was sure he forgot about food for the entire day.

There were footsteps in the distance, but Jonathan didn't care. He just needed to sleep. He needed some rest. He needed to think.

He turned into the closest room he could, before something horrible showed up. First the smell hit him. Then it was the sprawled out legs in the corner of his eyes. There was something familiar about the legs as he moved closer. It hit him once he saw the jacket. Oh no. No, you didn't....

Blood. A lot of it.

It painted the ground. The fur collar. The fac- wait...


"Oh my god! Darius, what the fuck?!"

Jonathan ran towards him, his mouth covered with his hand.

"Aw, Jeez, no, w-what the fuck? W-what happened?"

He crouched by Darius, in a panic. Frantically, he tried thinking of a way to save him, t-that the bullet missed something important and that he was still alive, even if his face was gone and he-

Jonathan sat on his knees and stared.

This is what happens when you slack off. You could've stuck with him. You'd have been able to escape. Everyone could've. You had to leave him behind.

Lord of Lunatics
(( Michael Crowe continued from Hang in There))

Michael had a lot of conflicting thoughts. Number one, was 'what in the hell' was he really doing? What was he trying to prove? For the last three days, he hadn't thought about anything. Just doing. Was this for Jerry, or for himself? Was this some excuse to show he wasn't scared, that he didn't care; That he was still on top, still in control? That he was right? It never mattered to Michael if someone thought he was wrong, but he did take note of it. If one person says you're wrong, then you tell him to fuck off. But if ten people tell you it, you might have to think about it a bit, right? Were they any better? After all, the same people tellin' him he's wrong are the same people who'd grab popcorn and a lawn chair if their buddy was getting mauled by a bear instead of doing anything about it.

Second, why him? Why'd his class get picked. Why do we have to go through this shitstorm? Why not some fuckin' bigshot 400 people school on the other side of the states? Why'd they choose us? All that time, all that effort. How much were they spending on this? Hell, how many times has this fuckin' happened, it's ridiculous. They had to run out of islands eventually. Jesus, and you'd think by now whoever owned this shithole would speak up. Durr, yea' we abandoned an island, a lot like this one actually, same bell tower, same asylum and everything, but we don't know if it's ours, hyuk hyuk. Maybe the government knew, maybe they're using this for anti-terrorist funding or some shit. Maybe he's just thinking into it too much, like Tessa Tinfoil.

Third, where in the fuck were these cans coming from! Michael kicked one of them down the hallway, watching it bounce along the wall before rolling away. Why were there so many in a trail? Did it lead to a trap, does someone need help. Michael knew he told Audrey he'd let Darwin do the work for him, but... Maybe that change of tactic, maybe it was just switching his priorities? Save a life, rather than take one? What the hell... Not like he was good at either, but maybe, maybe it was worth a shot.

Michael was too optimistic though. He knew what it probably was. Follow the candy to the white van. Never get seen again. The trail of cans lead him to a shithole he'd never thought he'd return to. Michael tilted his head away before moving down the stairwell. Maybe. Maybe this was Nancy planning it? That's what she's doing for fame now?

Fate seemed to fuck him through every corner. Every ally he meets, he loses. Every chance of success he gets, he loses. Maybe fate was telling him to turn around. Maybe that's what he should do. Turn around. Find Jonathan, or Darius, or anyone. Give up. Make the best of it. This might be his last chance to do it. Do it.

Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, yes?

Maybe, just maybe, if he stuck to it, his luck would turn around. Something would go right, right? Powers that be! Grant me some good shit for once! Please!

Michael made his way down the stairs, he saw a shape. A familiar shape. Wasn't Nancy. Wasn't Alessio.

Well... worth a shot right? Worse case scenario, this is the last mistake he makes. Fitting end. Family mourns for about a month, they get over it. Jon mourns for the rest of the time on his island, he'll get over it. Nobody else gives a shit.

Michael crouched low. Jeremy wasn't with him now. What'd he do, gut him for his gun? Wouldn't surprise him one bit. A little 'told ya' so' if that was the case. This time he wasn't gonna go into theatrics, no screaming, none of that shit. Sneak and gut.

But could he do it? For all his talk he did a bad job of even finishing off a kid in a straight jacket. Shoulda' known though. If he could've brought himself to do it, the whole bell tower thing wouldn't have happened would it? Just a whack and leave. Explain it was for the greater good, be blissfully unaware that your partner never really gave a shit about your ideology. Move on.

Michael stayed low, slowly inching his way towards Alex. It was time to see if he could actually do what he promised Jerry. It was time to see what he was capable of. It was time to nut up, or shut up.

Hang in There
"Speak up motherfucker! You ain't sorry! You ain't done until you're dead you shit! Why shouldn't I just drop you now!"

It was a trifecta of fuckery. All because dumbass Audrey had to open her mouth, suddenly he was the bad guy. Y'know, the guy who didn't murder in cold blood.

Michael tried his best to ignore all of it. Then Maria up and left.

Y'know what?

Fuck this.

Michael hoisted Al over the edge then threw him back into the bell tower. They want him alive that bad. Fine. Here he is.

Fine. Fuck 'em. Fuck Maria, fuck Audrey, fuck Alessio. Fuck 'em all.

"Aight Audrey. You can keep it. Michael spit on Alessio while he laid there. "But don't come to me cryin' or bitchin' when he kills all your buddies. I won't do shit. They all died because of idiots like you anyways. Fuckin' apathetic shit-heels. Call me whatever the fuck you want. 'Least I tried to do something besides sit around bitchin' and moanin'. All you cowards wanna do is hole up in a corner with your eyes closed and hope it goes away. Save your high horse, I don't give a fuck what you have to say to me, and I have nothin' left to say to you, neither. I'm done. I don't know who's worse, the killers, or the idiots suckin' their dicks..."

Michael shouldered past Audrey as he moved towards the stairs. From this point on he wasn't doing this vigilante shit. From now on, he's lookin' out for Numero uno. Him and his friends. Let the other retards worship the ones cuttin' 'em up. At this point they all deserved it anyways, they should've known what was up by now anyways.

Hell, maybe he was in the wrong. Maybe it was best to use what time he had left to spend with his friends. Make his peace. Try his best to defend them. Maybe taking the attack to the players wasn't the right way to do it. Maybe the best thing he could do was defend people? Maybe... Maybe he had it all wrong.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, and from this angle it was clear why Barry's corpse had disturbed him besides the obvious.

That shirt. It was Jonathan's. He moved in closer to look at it.

Was it? It was! What was it doing there? Was he with Barry? What happened to him?

Thoughts of what could have happened to Jonathan filled his mind. Thoughts of Larkin's death, Bradley's name on announcements, the corpses in the basement, Alex... People like that running around. How could he defend someone he couldn't even find. Maybe...

Who else was actually trying to do anything? Oh yeah, right. Nobody else gave a rat's ass. Who'd he have left? Jonathan and Darius. Where were they? If someone got to them, then what would he have left? The chances of seeing them ever again were slim if nil. All of that talk about living to the best? It probably wouldn't happen. Someone would just ruin it like they always do. He didn't have a chance in hell for anything to go right for him anyways. It always went wrong. Might as well right the few wrongs he can in the meantime, right?

Fuck it. He was never a quitter. He just needed a change in tactics. No more theatrics, no more words. No more talk. Talk don't get shit done. Actions do. He was fed the fuck up.

He won't be bargained with. He won't be reasoned with; and he absolutely will not stop, ever, until those freaks are all dead.

((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere))

Battle Royale Mafia Game Thread
I read the manga and had a lot of trouble with the batshit insane artstyle.

Friggen motorcycle helmet shitgoblin, rip you magnificent bastard.

Battle Royale Mafia Game Thread
Got my role!

Hang in There
((This isn't so much as a skip as it is swapping places with RC to move things along a little bit. Also GM'ing accepted from RC for Alessio.))

"Okay, okay! Everyone fuckin' relax!"

Michael couldn't believe he was the fuckin' mediator for this shit. How funny was it that he was the calmest in the room? Like for real, what in the fuck is happening?

"Cept you. You ain't got nothin' to be relaxin' about!" Michael grabbed Al's hair, shaking his head back and forth. Audrey and Maria's argument was pissing him off, but it was okay, nobody would mind if he took it out on this sick fuck for a little bit.

"Aight! Audrey, listen up, okay? I get it. You didn't experience even a tenth of the shit we did, that's okay! You don't get it, nothin' wrong with that; BUT Al most certainly does deserve this shit. It's a funny thing you mention askin' him. We did just that yesterday."

Michael wrapped his arms around Al's head. His hands wrapped around Alessio's jaw and cheeks. Michael started opening and closing his mouth like a macabre Kermit. Michael's already high pitched voice warped into an even more grating caricature fusion of Lemon Grab, Tommy Wiseau and Bobcat Goldwaith.

"Hnnnnnnggg! I deed nawt keel anywon Michael CrooOoweeeE! Heurr-durr!, I did naaaaaht! I am tooooooOOOoOOootaaaaAAaAaaallly innocent! 'Dis is just ketchup on my hoodie, nyeh-hurnnnnn~"

Michael let go of Al's head, and watched him fall back down with a comical thump.

"Little bastard lied right to our face, right? We'da got him talkin' earlier, but Alvaro fucked it all up like the shitbag he is. Murderer savin' another one, fancy that... Hell, to start from the beginning, he walked in scarin' the shit out of the Hot Topic crew, and I had to go in to save 'em all, the ungrateful fucks. Back then he had a pickaxe. When me and Maria found him again, he had traded his pickaxe off for a toy gun, and a lot more blood. Motherfucker outright lied to us. He says he didn't do shit, covered in all that blood!"

Michael took the blood stained hoodie and tossed it at Audrey's feet.

"That ain't his."

He looked towards Al. He looked towards the outer edge of the bell tower. He looked back at Al.

"Speakin' a him..."

He grabbed Al by the collar of his straight jacket, hoisting him up on his feet.

He stopped and looked towards Audrey.

"Maria was a... well I'll admit, she was a bit aggressive towards you. No offense, Maria, but you were a real 'see-you-next-tuesday'! Aheheh! But listen to me Audrey, she is kinda right, very much so in fact, even if it was blunt as all hell. Don't try and stop us. We already had to deal with Alvaro's shit; 's why this little piddlefuck got away the first time. Ain't happenin' again..."

What in the hell was a piddlefuck?

"Lil' mofo didn't wanna talk then? Well, he's talkin' now!"

He stopped at the edge, his gaze fixated right on Alessio's eyes.

"I'ma make you a deal, okay?"

He brought his face in close. He paused for dramatic effect.

"When I toss you over, if ya' can fly, we won't hunt you down, okay!?"

That's it. Use a Sopranos quote. Nobody back home would notice too much would they?

He shoved Al over the edge, his hands still hanging onto the straight jacket.

Alessio was now dangling upside down from the bell tower, curled up in what is most likely an uncomfortable position.

"How's the view you shit?! Makin' you wanna talk now, eh? Start talkin' an' maybe I'll let you go, ehehehehehehe!"

Michael raised his left hand, now the only thing keeping Al on the barrier was his own two legs, and Michael's right arm.

"What's wrong Al?! Don't wanna hang out with us anymore?! What? You ain't the type of gettin' high?! Well hang in there, buddy! After all! You aaaallllwaaays had yer' head in the clouds, right?!"

He shook his arm back and forth, Al started swaying left and right.

"This is my baaaad hand Al! Y'know, the one you took a big fuckin' chomp outta? Best start talkin', or I might jus' drop this conversation! AaaaAahaahahehehaaah!"

Aaand this, ladies and gentlemen, is how you interrogate someone! No pointy things needed.

Introduction Thread
Howdy! V6 is midway through, but there's still a lot of time for characters to be up for adoption! Everyone here is pretty chill, so stop by the discord chat if you want to meet anyone!

New General SOTF Discussion Thread
Just throwing this out there.

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Spoiler: click to toggle

This time I might just disappear
"Let's just... Let's just help Danny first."

He wanted to pretend that Brendan and Alba leaving didn't hurt. It did. There wasn't much they could do about it though, they were already gone, and Danny was still here.

Jonathan moved into the room and grabbed some extra bed sheets.

"They might come back, we should wait here until tomorrow, maybe?"

--- --- ---

Even a day later, they still hadn't come back. Danny had been wrapped up with the spare bed sheets, then placed underneath the covers on the bed. Jon took the remaining sheet and tied it around the doorknob, so people would possibly know to not open the door. They probably wouldn't come back. Either they were in trouble, or they simply found an idea they liked better.

Either way, it didn't matter until he found them. They weren't coming back.

That meant there was no point in staying.

((Jonathan Gulley continued elsewhere.))

Hang in There
Michael was jolted by an alien voice. Well, not quite alien, just not a voice he'd heard since he'd been here. This... was well, it was fuckin' awkward.


Michael hadn't even noticed that Alessio had peeped his head out of the hoodie covering his face. He was more focused on how to explain why he was waterboarding him awake in the first place.

"Well... uhhh."

Would Audrey be pissed about it? Probably. Alessio's probably gonna start screaming stupid shit too, so fuck it. Tell the truth.

"Well... I'ma start from the beginning; Me and Maria here, well, we're fed up with the same damn names comin' up on the announcements. So; we decided to change some things, right?"

"We found Al... you probably heard him on the announcements right?"

Michael shrugged, before tossing the empty water bottle off the tower.

" We figured we'd question why he did it first. Y'know, help us decide whether or not to toss him over on his head or on his feet. Depends on what answers he gives us."

Battle Royale Mafia Sign-Ups
Professional first victim signing up!

Hang in There
"Nah, I didn't mean like... They were always crazy just-"

He stared at that pile of shit laying there. How careless he was, how fucking blank his face was. Like a goddamn robot, a Terminator.

"He wasn't crazy. He's as sane as you or me. Sane as anyone on this island. He knew what he was doin'. He just didn't care about it."

That- well that might've been the thing that disgusted him the most. This little motherfucker looked at him with a straight face. Lied right to him. No twitches, no signs of guilt, no irony whatsoever. He said it like he believed it, but he knew. Michael knew that Al knew what he did. He just didn't care.

Maria wanted him to talk. She was willing to cut him up to get him to-

"The fuck Maria?! Jeez, you're ice cold, y'know that?"

Michael had actually looked disgusted for a moment. It didn't take longer than that moment for him to start laughing.

"Hahahaeehehe! I almost got you there! Hahaha... Fuck nah, but seriously though, don't waste the effort on him. We ain't like those other creeps. Plus I got a better way of doin' it..."

He squatted by Al while Maria gave him a good tap to the ribs. He rummaged through Al's bag for a moment before grabbing out a bottle of water.

He faced Maria as he unscrewed the top from the bottle.

"Now, here's how you wake someone up!"

Michael placed his hand on where Al's forehead should be underneath the hoodie to hold him down. He started dumping the bottle on Al's face.

"Drrrrrrrrink up, motherfuckeeeeeeer!"

Hang in There
"I don't know about snappin'." Michael curled his lips into a sneer looking at the wormlike creature on the ground.

"You saw the way he stared at us... I think he was always like this, that a lot of these fuckers were." The act of snapping, well that added something new to the equation of shitfuck didn't it. It wasn't like it couldn't happen. Hell, a lot of people in a scenario like this would snap. Hell, maybe Michael snapped. Maybe? If he snapped he wouldn't be aware of it though, that was the thing.

That's what snapping meant. You broke. Gone loopy. Your brain took the pain train. Couldn't take it. Lights on, nobody's home. Buh bye. When you snapped you had no idea what in the fuck was goin' on. You called inanimate objects 'Wilfred'. You were told by some unnamed entity to do shit. The lines between good and bad blurred. You threw fecal matter cocktails at people outside your crazy cell. Those types of things.

Sure, maybe a few people snapped. Alex probably did, turnin' into the fuckin' Clarence 'Wananananana, blam, well give the man a hand!' Boddicker wannabe. Maybe Alvaro. Michael couldn't tell if Alvaro was looking at him or the wall beside him, but maybe Alvaro had a lazy eye or something. Maybe he was always derp-eyed like that and he never noticed. Still... That Ryan Gosling Driver stare was fuckin' creepy come to think of it.

Maybe... Maybe some people did snap. He wouldn't hold it against them for it, but shit, they still did what they did. They gotta be held accountable. Hell, might be a mercy killing more than anything. Maybe. Maybe, just maybe that the combined stress of not only the games, but the oppressing nature of high school itself! The fear of not following your overburdening parents' expectations, the class warfare of the grades and cliques that roam it's halls, or the apathetic teachers who really don't care at all what happens? Maybe it were the social teachings of the schools, how only the strong and pretty make it to the top. The ones on top who pushed others to the bottom for some likes on a social media website, or the growing fear that a single social faux pas would end up with you on said social media website for the world to mock, with no regards to how you'd ever live it down afterwords. Maybe they spent all their time looking behind them, afraid of confrontations. Afraid people like him... Maybe... Just maybe... It was partially his fault as well...

Naaaaaah. They were all just a buncha' assholes.

"Yeah. We could probably see what he has to say. I kinda' wanna see what stupid bullshit excuse he'd make this time."

Hang in There
(( Michael Crowe continued from 70's Horror Movies 2: New Wave Massacre))

"Okay, okay, okay! D-drop him here!" Michael and Maria tossed the large sack of shit to the corner. Fucking hell, even tiny unconscious people were heavy. Say whatever you will about strength, endurance, whatever... You try dragging a person from the rooftops of a three story asylum to the top floor of a bell tower.

That shit ain't easy!

Michael took some time to breath, before leaning his back on the railing, letting it have a satisfying pop. His gaze trailed towards the straight jacketed figure laying in the corner. Little shit probably didn't have any idea where he was at. Michael made sure of that one by tying his hoodie around his face.

"Al... You're heavy as a motherfucker! You needa' go on the fuckin' Paris Hilton diet..." Michael pantomimed putting his fingers down his throat, topped off with exaggerated facial expressions and very loud and annoying gagging noises.

It seemed like Michael wasn't the first one to come up with the idea of tossing people over the bell tower. Barry was dead inside the middle of it, with someone's shirt over his face. Michael was extremely unnerved by the fact his face was covered, but he had no clue why. Maybe the three-no four days of decomposition was it. He didn't know, just something about it was off. Familiar. He's sure he'd seen that shirt before...

It bothered him that the face being covered freaked him out more than the fact that someone who'd died four days ago was laying there. Michael couldn't help but feel like shit seeing someone like this, people deserved to be in a casket under ground four days after they died, not just laying there like that.

So this is where Alvaro got his first kill? Shit, when he hears the announcements tomorrow, he's gonna flip, provided he lives that long. Karma is a bitch, and so was Mike, motherfucker!

But first, a lil' break.

Michael unzipped his bag, and pulled out some energy bars and a drink. He took a few bites, then actually gagged. Eugh. This shit literally feels and tastes like mashed together tooth-plaque. Who thought these were a good idea?! Michael took larger bites and swallows, intentionally avoiding chewing to get that shit out of the way as fast as possible. He took a few drinks of water, lamenting the lack of well... anything gourmet.

Would it kill them to just give them a pack of Lays or something? Lays are nasty in any other situation, but fuck, they'd be something better than this! Hell, ready to eat rations would be better than this. Fuckin' cheap ass terrorists man. Don't let murderin' teens stop 'em from penny pinchin'.

"God that shit is fucking nasty!" He took another moment to cringe and shake the bad taste out. He tossed the wrapper over the edge and looked towards Maria.

"Yo, should we wake sleepin' fuckface over there an' get it over with?"

70's Horror Movies 2: New Wave Massacre
Michael didn't get much sleep. Between the switching of sleep shifts ruining his circadian clock, to the various nightmares, many of them involving Jonathan, he couldn't sleep.

He decided to take the last three shifts, as the last time he had woken up he'd done so through a sleep paralysis induced hallucination of a demonic Alvaro coming back to finish the job. Fuck it. He could sleep when he's dead.

The announcements came on, and well...

Maria reacted with shock when she heard Caleb's death. This was all starting to seem horrifically familiar. Waking up, announcements start. Hunt a player. Player gets lucky. Friend dies... Maybe it'd be different, maybe he'd be the dead one this time.

Next was... you guessed it Alessio killing people.

"I didn't kill anybody, Michael Crowe."

Michael just stared blankly at the wall. He looked up and out the window... He could kind of see the other side of the roof from there.

Kaitlyn Greene killed Mia with an Ohh-Dee... Probably one of the worst ways to go, laying on your back, a swimming pool of vomit leaking out of your mouth. Better have been an accident. Doing something like that on purpose...

Tessa blew herself and her tinfoil hat up. Kinda depressing to say he saw it from a mile away. More suicides followed...

Al got a double kill. Little pissbaby Al. So Henry's where he got the toy gun from. Michael figured Al killed Henry out of spite. Him and the other mall-goth hung together. Why couldn't he have manned up and taken Min-Jae instead? Henry was kind of alright...

But of course cowards are cowards. They don't fight the ones who can fight back...

Iz crippled and shivved someone. Michael wondered how big the pet cemetery in her backyard was.

Alvaro was working hard too. Wonder if he 'knew' what he did to Jasper.

When he heard that the crematorium was the death zone, he felt a sort of missed opportunity. He could've used one of the table legs to bar the door. Shit.

Maybe it was good he didn't. There were two innocents there, but they were with someone who wasn't... Would that count as guilty by association? In a normal society with laws it would maybe. But would it be right? Nah... It wouldn't. If Min Jae's gotta go, it's just gotta be him. But if the others attack, it'll be self defense, nothing more, nothing less.

Michael noticed something on the roof. A shape. He took his shades off and squinted at it...

"Maria... You got my condolences for Caleb. This isn't... well it's not the first time Kimiko's done this, and it ain't the first time I've seen friends lose their close ones. We'll get Kim, but we can't rush in there. We gotta be careful with this shit we're doing. I'm not letting what happened to Jerry happen again."

He reached across the hall and picked up the straight jacket.

"We gotta go, now."

He stood up, looking at the shape. He said he'd get to work right after the announcements, but this was... golden.

Michael coughed and let the bugs escape.

((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere.))

70's Horror Movies 2: New Wave Massacre
Alvaro was gone. Even with his machine gun, he was scared as shit. Michael had left enough of an impact to intimidate him from shooting at them.

Michael kept his blank face as Alvaro left. Ran away, ran to his buddy Alessio. Again Michael had scared the cowards with the guns away. Again they stood down.

Again they got away...

Those pissants! Fuck, this close! This fucking close!

Michael punched the gate with his right hand. He regretted it when he realized how dumb an idea was to punch something that hard with your bad hand. He felt the burnt skin and bone grind against rusty metal, the sensations rushing up his arms were to his nerves as nails on chalkboard were to his ears.

In layman's terms it hurt like a bitch.


He kicked the door instead, still not a good idea. At least it wasn't the worst idea he's had.

"This fffffuckin' close! Always right fuckin' there, then some- lucky shit walks in 'an-"

Michael headbutted the door. He didn't even feel that one.

He took a moment. Breath motherfucker, breath.

"W-we can't- we can't let this shit keep up... Fuckin' shit..."

He looked at Maria.

"The announcements tomorrow. After that... No hesitations from me anymore... None. Gotta finish that shit then and there. These motherfucker's luck gotta be runnin' out right?"

This time I might just disappear
So they could leave him on a bed, that'll work. But what if someone walked in there, expecting refuge in one of the rooms?

"We might have to put something on the door, just so people know that wouldn't want to walk in there, maybe?" Jonathan had just realized he could've came back to Barry, maybe brought him to somewhere that wasn't a cold wooden floor.

"Maybe we could wrap a bed sheet around the door too? I don't know, I think, I think we should give him some privacy after we find him a spot."

They were getting close to the place now. That corridor that only took 30 seconds to walk through seemed to feel like an eternity, like it would have taken him a week to really consider what was currently happening.

Alba decided she would go in first. Jonathan decided that'd be okay, she did have a gun.

"Alright, just lemme open the door."

Jonathan slowly crept the door open, looking back at the others. He didn't remember closing the door, but he felt like his mind was going blank at different intervals, like he couldn't focus. He almost forgot he had to get them off the island.

"Again, if any of you don't want to look, that's fine. It-It's not good in there..."