• Chapter 2: Wrong Timing


    Nocturn woke up at midday the next day. The trip to Paralleliux, his true birthplace, was exhausting. His head, joints, and essence ached. It was like a hangover, but without alcohol. His mind was foggy, his vision groggy. He walked to his refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of orange juice, and poured it into a glass. The juice went down his throat, but with trouble. The sourness injures his essence. Carbonated water pains his kind, too, but he seems to be the only one to be immune to him.

    He was wearing his pajamas, which were just long, blue pajama pants and a yellow t-shirt.
    He sniffed the air, smelling the faint smell of perfume lingering in his suite.

    “Viola,” he grunted.

    Viola was resting on the couch in front of the television. Her eyes flickered open. She lifted her head, yawning lightly, “Hey, Nocturn.”

    “What happened last night?”

    “We went to Paralleliux for our assessment.”

    Nocturn suddenly remembered everything. “I failed…”

    Viola nodded sadly. “I’m sorry.”

    “It’s not your fault. So what rank are you now?”

    “Twenty-four.”

    “Your three ranks ahead of me. Wait, I wasn’t demoted, was I?”

    “No, you’re still twenty-seven.”

    “Great.” He cleared his throat to sound less like a monster, which he technically is. “Did I invite you in here?”

    “Yes.”

    “Right. You want anything?”

    “No thank you.”

    The suite’s phone rang. Nocturn walked more normally as he arrived to the phone. “Hello?”

    “Hey! There’s my favorite kid. Have a good night?” answered Frank at the other side. He always took the chance to call all of the residents of the apartment building, but called Nocturn his favorite. Nocturn apparently reminded him of his son.

    “Hey, Frank. I’m okay. How was yours?”

    “It was great. Got to go out and watch a play. You know wife and her drama.”

    “Hehe,” chuckled Nocturn vainly. He did not understand what was so humorous in such relations.

    “Have a good day, Nocturn. Just wanted to make sure everyone was OK.”

    “Okay, good bye.”

    Nocturn walked back to the couch next to Viola’s. “Who was it?” inquired Viola.

    “Frank, he’s the landlord.”

    “I know, I’ve met him. Funny guy.”

    “I guess so. He thinks that you and I have some sort of relationship above friends.”

    Viola looked away to the window. “Pheh. That’s a strange notion.”

    “Isn’t it? I’m going to change.”

    Nocturn went into his room, picked out a black shirt out of all of the other black shirts and another pair of black jeans. His clothing was almost a uniform, like in a cartoon. He put on a black cloak that had a blue line running down from the collar, which covered his mouth, to the bottom. He put on his black Converse and walked out of the room. The air smelled sulfuric, just like always in New York City. “This place is a pool of toxic waste. It smells bad and the rain comes down like acid,” he sniffed.

    “Your sense of smell still amazes me,” replied Viola who sniffed the air, but in vain. Nocturn was unique in his sense of smell, as well. “What do you think the mission is today?”

    “Good question. I got no text, telepathic messages, or messengers yet.”

    “What time is it?”

    “Twelve-thirty.” Nocturn’s stomach growled suddenly. “Damn! That feeling again.”

    “What? What is it?”

    “I’m hungry.”

    “Oh,” giggled Viola. “Then get something to eat.”

    Nocturn walked back into his room, grabbed his iPod and earphones, and got his keys. Walking down the stairs from his room to the door of his suite, he turned towards Viola. “Are you going to stay?”

    “Where are you going?”

    “Going to look for some lunch.”

    “Okay.” Viola hopped off the couch, put on her high-heels (with a grimacing look), and followed Nocturn. “Where to?”

    “McDonald’s. What else is there to eat?”

    “Hm…”

    When the two got downstairs, Nocturn’s thoughts were fixed on the assessment of last night.
    “He still needs work.”
    “But come on, guys. He’s a professional compared to most of the others.”
    “Plus, that arm’s got you weak, hmhmhm.”

    The comment on his right arm hurt him the most. Sure, he was an above average fighter, but the standards have gotten higher for him. The Higher Reaper Senate promoted him many times before, raising the standards every time. The standards rose to near impossible heights by then. It seemed like only nobles could rise beyond rank fifteen. The one who supported him, Dunkel Chronos Easton, was one of his best friends.

    Viola seemed to be deep in thought, as well, but she smiled as they walked. “Did you sleep well?”

    “Pheh, same as always,” he replied. “Where did Ignus go, by the way?”

    “He went off to Long Island for a mission. Who knows when he’ll come back?”

    “Why are you so concerned?”

    “You know…”

    “Oh, right. Don’t be too obvious around him.”

    “I know, I know. How far away is the McDonald’s?”

    “Around this corner. Here it is.”

    The fried smells of the restaurant filled Nocturn’s nose. It was strong enough with normal
    olfactory senses. “Smells like a fat man’s greasy foot with added rotten meat stink in here,” hissed Nocturn.

    “Really? Smells okay to me,” replied Viola.

    “I think I’ve lost my appetite. I’ll get you something to eat, but I’m not going to eat this trash.”

    “Okay then.”

    Nocturn went to the cash register and ordered a Southern Fried Chicken Sandwich combo,
    something that he usually orders. His sense of smell was for some reason stronger than it was before.

    Moments later, he paid the cashier, got his order, and gave it to Viola. “Hope you like it,” he grunted. Viola was looking dazed as she stared at Nocturn. “Viola?”

    “Oh, sorry. I guess I’m someplace else today.”

    “What’s wrong?”

    Viola opened her mouth to say something, but looked behind Nocturn’s head. “There’s our messenger.”

    Nocturn looked back. There was a man wearing a gray hoodie standing next to the men’s bathroom door. He was staring back. Sighing, Nocturn got up from his chair and went for the hooded man. “What’s the mission today, Ghent?”

    “Are you with somebody right now?”

    “I am with Viola right now. She is sitting over there if you want to talk to her.”

    The hooded man’s face was covered in darkness. Only his mouth was showing. He saw Viola and kept speaking. “The Higher Reaper Senate requires that all members beyond rank Twenty-Five have a guard.”

    “What are you two talking about?” asked Viola. She stood next to Notcturn. He looked back, only a few fries were left. “I was sort of hungry,” she giggled.

    “Mistress Viola,” greeted Ghent. He bowed to his knees. A woman passed by, staring. “As a member above rank Twenty-Five, you are required to have a guard of some sort. You may choose whoever you wish.”

    Viola looked at Nocturn. “I choose Nocturn to be my guard.”

    “Me? Why me?” said Nocturn. “I think Ignus is a more worthy bodyguard.”

    “Ignus? He’s too busy. I trust that you’ll be around a lot more.”

    “Guards and their guarded must be in the same missions,” informed Ghent.

    “You see? Ignus is always assigned totally different missions. You and I, Nocturn, always have pretty much the same sort of missions.”

    “Fine,” replied Nocturn sheepishly.

    “Then I will inform the HRS of your decision. And here is your mission: go to Central Park and eliminate any Chimera you see. But do it secretly. We cannot have anymore suspicion than we already have.” Ghent handed Viola a memo that listed additional objectives and vanished from the spot.

    “Ghent should really try just walking out of the door and then disappear. That should raise less suspicion.”

    “Let’s go to Central Park,” said Viola. “Then we’ll do our other objectives.”

    Nocturn nodded and followed Viola. The two sprinted towards Central Park, passing many streets and buildings. They rarely get tired because of their essences. Food literally builds their energy. It makes them stronger.

    They eventually reached the Park and it was already in chaos. People were running all around the place, screaming and shouting about weird mini-lions attacking them. “This is not going to be easy,” muttered Nocturn.

    “Who says it has to? And why are you so down?” inquired Viola. She bent down slightly to better see Nocturn’s face through his mess of blue hair. “You usually like fighting.”

    “It’s just… You’re right. Let’s go.” Nocturn ran towards the park. Viola was running behind
    him. The mess of people was expanding. Two helicopters hovered over the park, trying to get a clear sight of the lion-like creatures. Nocturn summoned his blade, which came to him through a vortex that opened at the tip of his metallic fingers. He used his normal hand to brush away some leaves that rustled in front of his face. Why is the wind suddenly so strong? A growl to his left. Two yellow eyes stared back at him through the rustling branches of a nearby shrub. “Found one.”

    Viola reached into her purse and pulled out a pistol, probably a sort of silver Desert Eagle. “I haven’t had to use this in a long time,” she remarked.

    On sight of the shiny object, the Chimera pounced. Nocturn got in front of Viola, slashed the creature’s face with the black blade of his sword, and finished it off with a stab. “You should be more careful,” said Nocturn with a smirk.

    “That’s why you’re my guardian.”

    Another Chimera pounced.

    “Hmph,” Nocturn killed it, leaving its purple blood spraying around them, “as long as I get to fight.”

    A gun shot and another creature fell. “You should be more careful yourself,” replied Viola, twirling the gun on her index finger.

    A growl, a metal on skin sound, and then a whine.

    “What was that?”

    “I don’t know,” replied Nocturn. He suddenly heard a light foot step. He instantly swung his sword and jabbed it at a young man, probably seventeen. The tip of his blade was just half an inch away from impaling the boy’s chest.

    “Hey, hey, watch it, Nocturn. You might kill me!” yelped the boy. He had light green hair, bordering white and black eyes with green irises. He wore a black skater hoodie over a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans.

    Nocturn lowered his sword and sighed. “What are you doing here, Kent?”

    “What, can’t a guy come over and help a bit? I’ve heard that Viola’s gotten promoted. I would love to be your bodyguard, Vi.”

    “Thanks, Kent, but Nocturn’s already my bodyguard,” dismissed Viola.

    Kent opened his mouth in shock. “B-b-but…!”

    “Get used to it, Kent,” interrupted Nocturn.

    “You are so full of yourself, Nocturn!”

    “No I’m not,” replied Nocturn dismissively. “Now shut up and tell us the real reason why you’re here.”

    Kent sighed. “I told you already. I wanted to be Viola’s bodyguard.”
    Viola looked the other way. “Sorry, Kent.”

    “Pheh. I guess I’m…”

    A loud growl.

    “What the hell was that?”

    “That as too loud to be a Chimera,” said Nocturn.

    “What can it be?”

    “It is probably a Rancor,” answered Viola. Her ability, Muzyka, allows her to differentiate in the different sounds of things.

    Kent groaned. “I hate those!”

    “Then leave it to us,” said Nocturn.

    “No way! I’m not frightened by such things. This Rancor will be no match for my courage!”
    A stomp. A large creature snarled as it walked over the trees, blocking out the sun’s light. Its silhouette showed that it was a hairy beast with large, narrow red eyes. Its giant walrus-like teeth were the only definite features. “Holy…” muttered Kent as he stared at it.

    The creature looked down and roared.


    A gun shot. A little bit of violet blood oozed out of the small wound inflicted by Viola’s shot.

    “Kent,” said Nocturn, “get out of here.”

    “Why? I can help somehow!”

    “This is not the time for bickering, Kent! If anyone spots us, we might be scrutinized!”
    Kent closed his eyes in fury. He grabbed his sword and ran for the creature’s feet.

    “Kent!” Nocturn ran after him.


    Stupid! thought Viola as she watched Kent run for the Rancor’s feet. It was a massive creature, towering over the many trees of the park. And all of this after Nocturn and I went on our second date! She blushed to herself slightly, trying to make sure Nocturn would not notice, just as she had done earlier. Kent was always infatuated with her, so his surprise appearance made sense. But he looked like he wanted something else. His jealousy of Nocturn, for something she was not sure of, was not what drove him to do such a foolish feat, she was sure of it. He wanted the Rancor out of the way and…

    “Nocturn!” she called when she figured out Kent’s strategy. That quick thinker.
    Nocturn was too far away to hear her amongst the roaring and growling of the animals, despite his superb hearing, one of his many unique talents. Another Chimera crawled closer, eyes narrowed, mouth drooling its white saliva. She shot at its head, bursting it into ribbons of fur and its violet blood.

    The Rancor roared, Kent cried. Nocturn grunted heavily.

    Viola turned, afraid to see what it was. One of the Rancor’s eyes was oozing green liquid. Kent’s sword, a pointed macuahuitl customized with a two-headed snake carved into the blade and a chain extending from the hilt, was dripping with the same green liquid at the tip. Nocturn was staring wildly at Kent, his jaws clenched, showing his fangs.
    He does look like a wolf sometimes, she observed.

    The Rancor pulled a claw up and swung it at Kent. Even Viola, who was about thirty feet from the claw, was blown away. Kent jumped over its paw, climbed the creature’s arm quickly, and, spitting the sword from his mouth, swung hard at its other eye. Green ooze spewed from the other eye. The Rancor yelped and whined in pain. Nocturn suddenly materialized in front of the creature’s face. He slashed and diced it, most times with his sword, other times with his claw: the claw that replaced his right hand, along with the gauntlet that replaced the lower part of the arm. Kent was below the creature. He flipped backwards, kicking its ribcage with full force: the force of a Dieu de la Mort. Caramel colored bones ripped through the Rancor’s sides, along with a major artery and a plethora of veins and nerves.

    But no cries, whines, or roars. Not even a grunt. The creature just oozed its green blood, which was dissolved into the ground and grew grass instantly. Kent was limping, almost crawling, towards Viola who stood calmly as Nocturn reappeared next to him, trying to assist him. Kent pushed his hand away, nudged his claw away and, barely breathing, got to a tree for support.

    “Now that that’s out of…the way,” Kent stopped for a deep breath, “I have an…extra…mission for you.”

    “So you didn’t come to become my guard?” Viola asked. She was fond of the younger Mort, despite his many attempts to woo her. He almost succeeded twice in the past, but Nocturn kept coming into mind.

    “Well…yeah,” he chuckled chokingly. “But I also got a message from the HRS. They say that there is something, or somebody, creating strong winds near Times Square. They want you to hunt it down. But its not a priority, unless you make it your priority. Continue with your other plans if you want. They’ll just send a different team towards…”

    Nocturn was already off.

    “I guess we’ve got it,” chuckled Viola.

    Kent nodded slowly and turned around. “Good luck.”

    “Kent. I’m sorry.”

    “I know, I know. I’m not good enough.”

    “It’s not that! It’s just, well you know.”

    Kent turned around and smiled sincerely. “I know. Nocturn’s your man. I got it. Have fun over there.”

    Viola nodded cheerfully and ran for the nearest exit from the park.


    Meanwhile…

    Nocturn was standing on top of the GE Building. He stood at the “Top of the Rock” observation deck. The Empire State Building was at the center, with the new Freedom Tower almost built. He scanned the area. Everything was a cool color, except for some vehicles and buildings because of heating, in his infrared vision. If he got too close to The Square, he would have been found, jeopardizing the thousands of people that walk through there.
    His phone rang. “Viola,” he finally answered without actually looking at the Caller ID.

    “Where did you go?” she replied.

    “I’m at the top of the GE Building. There are no signs of paranormal activity anywhere.”

    “Then it’s just a random strong breeze?”

    “I doubt that highly. As soon as I got near the tower, the wind stopped blowing. The culprit must know we are here.”

    Viola sighed. “Nocturn, I know who you think it is.”

    Nocturn did not reply. Instead, he kept scanning the horizon. Long Island was already teaming with Rancor, but they were getting neutralized by a different team of Dieu. Albany was as quiet and tranquil as ever. Further than that, he was unable to see.

    “Nocturn!”

    “Sorry.”

    “I doubt that it’s him.”

    “I have a feeling that he is in the subway.”

    Viola sighed again. “I’ll go check.”

    “And I’ll keep scanning.” He shut off his phone and scanned the horizon again. Could it be him? he thought. If it is, I’m going to take him down. Three men stood at the corner, staring at him weirdly. “What do you want?”

    “You expectin’ someone?” inquired the first one. He was a tall African American man wearing a gray hoodie over black jeans.

    “You can say that.”

    “How long have you been waiting?” asked the second one. He was a portly, young reddish skinned man, probably Indian. He wore a long-sleeved sweater and jeans.

    “Why do you need to know?”

    “You’ve been standing there for a while,” replied a taller, burly man. He was the third, probably Caucasian, and wore almost the same attire as the first one.

    Nocturn stared at his phone. 5:00 PM. He spent about three and a half hours on the GE Building without noticing. Then a thought popped up. Viola. “Damn it,” he mumbled to himself. Nocturn reached into his pocket and brought out a grenade-shaped object. “This is going to hurt you a bit,” he warned. He threw it at them, and, while the smoke covered them like a thick blanket, he jumped off the edge of the building. She’s probably still looking in the subway. Halfway down to the ground, he called her.

    No reply.

    Another call.

    Still no reply.

    Nocturn swore a vulgar curse in Arabic. He was just about thirty feet from the ground as he vanished. He landed, with a crack of the cement around him in an alleyway. It was dark, as the winter sunlight started to die out over the horizon. Rats scurried through the foul smelling trash, fouler in Nocturn’s nose. He quickly got out of the alleyway and went down to the nearest subway.

    He got through the gates unnoticed by guards and other bystanders. He weaved through them with haste. The signal disappeared, leaving no way for him to contact her. But he can smell her. Hopefully hear her, as well. It was a success. She was less than a mile southward, which was Nocturn’s direction. He sprinted, dodging and jumping over other people, accidentally kicking a sleeping hobo’s hat, and destroying a small CD stand. The guards were already on his trail.

    Can’t kill them, not like in Atlantis. No, he needed to be quick and decisive in his movements…

    He tripped on a woman. Both fell down to the floor, Nocturn on top of her. She was a blonde of about the age of twenty. At least she looked like that. She stared at him with bewilderment, and then noticed the guards coming close to them. She grabbed into her purse and brought out a grenade, just like the one Nocturn used on the three men at the GE Building. A cloud of purple smoke blinded all of the people walking by, including the guards. In the smoke, the girl grabbed Nocturn by a sleeve and pulled him to a safer place.


    Meanwhile…
    Viola sighed as she turned off her phone. She was walking through Time Square, thinking deeply about Nocturn. Could his suspicion be true? Could it be him? It can’t be! But the more she thought about it, the less she could doubt it. Nocturn said he was at the GE Building. She wanted to go there, but she knew this was too urgent. Instead, she went down the nearest subway staircase. A homeless man sitting at the end of the staircase whistled at her and asked for some change. Viola, feeling as much pity to the man as she felt worried for Nocturn, threw him a dollar coin. The signal was dead, so contact with Nocturn or anyone else above would be impossible.

    She paid for the Metro Card, got through the gate, and kept walking forward. She always felt lost and naked in the subway. Too many people that she did not know roamed all about her. A (supposedly) blind man played on his saxophone. He had at least fifty dollars in the suitcase that he left for people to donate. Another man sat on a mat and looked solemnly forward as other people passed by. He had a small display of CDs in front of him. Maybe I should turn back, she finally thought.

    Too late. A burly man in a black suit was already tracking her. Another, skinnier and shorter young man walked next to him. He wore a long black cloak over dark blue jeans. He wore gray Converse All-Stars. His eyes were completely black, like stones. The burly man next to him wore sunglasses, so it was hard to tell.

    Usurpers, she thought to herself. The Usurpers was a complex line of rouge Parallelians, similar to the Dieu de la Mort. Except, they were evil in many ways. She tried to turn around but the suited man paced forward. ‘

    “Do not think that you can go anywhere, Viola Easton,” he said calmly.

    “Unless you want to make a scene,” added the younger one.

    “You two?” scoffed Viola. “I thought you were some other guys. That would have made me run.”

    The young man kept his sober face. He had messy brown hair. Then, abruptly, his face was cut in half with a grin. “Where’s Nocturn. Tell us that, and you’ll live.”

    “Why should I tell you, Jack?”

    Jack, or Jack the Ripper as they called him in England, was a bit shabby looking, but fair at the same time. But all in all, he was an enemy to be reckoned with: his expertise on the art of assailment was beyond formidable. “Because, Viola. My friend here can’t,” he spoke with a light English accent, “wait to bust some heads. Especially if the boss said so.”

    The burly man in the suit swiveled his head, snapping some bones. He was a humanly strong looking man, shaved on the head, and had long fingernails. “Bosses orders, Viola.
    He said that Nocturn’s going to get out of the picture, and I don’t plan on failing such a mission. I hope you understand,” he said with a strong, low voice.

    Viola favored him a lot more than the snidely Jack. “Ben, why do you always stay near this one?”

    The burly man shrugged and replied, “It is my choice. I left the Mort for one good reason, and I’ve told you and everyone else what it was too many times.”

    Viola shook her head slowly. “I’m not going to tell you.”

    Jack snickered cynically. “That’s too bad. Ben, get her. We’re out of here.”

    Ben picked Viola up with one burly arm. Viola started to make an exaggerated struggle, screaming and kicking. She even dropped a bottle of perfume on purpose. The guards ran at them, but Jack retaliated with an Oblivion Grenade, wiping their memory.

    Meanwhile...
    “If you were some random stranger I would have reported you for molesting me. Can you explain what the hell just happened?” inquired the blonde woman. Her eyes looked human and green, one of the traits for female Paralleliuns. She had a green sweater over a white top and jeans.

    “Simple: I became Viola’s guard, I lost her and…”

    “Wait, wait, wait, hold on for a second. You lost her on your first day? Not very smart, you know.”

    “I know, I know,” replied Nocturn. He got up from the wooden box he was sitting on and went for the door that leads out of the family bathroom. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find her.”

    “Not just yet. Anybody walking around could mistake us for a crazy couple going way out of their heads.”

    Nocturn narrowed his eyes as he started to think about it. “I’d rather not imagine that,” he muttered. He turned around and stared at the girl. “Then what? Do I just leave Viola vulnerable like that?”

    “She’s a strong girl, Nocturn. I’ll credit her on that at least.”

    “Clauda!” snapped Nocturn.

    “Okay, okay! I’ll think of something.”

    Clauda and Viola had a grudge for years. Nocturn was stuck in the middle of it, trying to stay neutral. He was on good terms with both of the girls, at least. Clauda was Nocturn’s adoptive sister after his family was killed in a fire. From then on, the two stayed in touch.

    “I know!”

    “What?”

    “Can you hear her right now?”

    Nocturn tried to focus on Viola’s voice. Nothing. But he caught a whiff of some flowery smell. Perfume. “The perfume! I smelled her perfume down by the (ruined) CD stand.”

    “Then let’s find her!” Clauda Shwarze got up from the closed toilet seat, opened the door, looked around for any people around the bathroom, and signaled Nocturn to follow. “Which way was it again?”

    “This way,” he replied as he turned to run towards the corner where the CD stand was. A huge gust of wind blew him forward. He flew through the supporting pieces of wood of the roof of the stand, sending splinters everywhere, making blood seep out of small cuts on his face. He slammed into a mural on the wall, which showed life in early New Orleans. He got up achingly, feeling the skin on his face regenerate quickly. His eyes tried to focus on the figure in front of him.

    First of all, Clauda was running towards him, untouched by the strong wind that swept him up. Other people were walking by, making strange faces at them. Nocturn’s eyes finally focused on the figure. It was a lightly green haired man, seemingly about the age of twenty. He stood about 5’10”, about the same height as Nocturn. He wore a long black cloak, zippered from the top of his chest to his knees. The end of the coat flowed with the sudden wind. His eyes were completely black, save for the dark green irises.

    Nocturn clenched his teeth. It was him. He got up, reached into his coat and drew out his sword.

    “Who is this, Nocturn?” inquired Clauda, trying hard to remember who it is.

    “Don’t you remember me, Clauda?” answered the man. He spoke with a light Italian accent.
    “America must have corrupted your memory, hasn’t it?”

    “Mafia boys’ philosophy still clear in your head, Aeulus?” snapped Nocturn.

    “Aeulus!” Clauda pulled black leather gloves out of her pocket and put them on. She got into a battle-ready stance.

    Aeulus smiled slightly. His black shoes did not make a sound as he moved slowly towards him. Nocturn has just come to notice that Aeulus had his oversized chef’s knife, which was the size of a two-handed sword, bandaged and strapped to his back.

    Nocturn already knew that battle was inevitable. But he had to ask, “Where were you for all of these years?”

    “Why would you care? I thought you stopped caring a while ago.” Aeulus reached the handle of his sword, letting it unwrap gently from the tip, which was extremely sharp.

    “I would, but I believe you’ve taken somebody I know.”

    “Viola? Do not worry, she is in safe hands now.”

    “Just like Mary Kelly? I don’t think so!”

    “You and I both knew that they would end up becoming sinister evil beings towards the end. We ended a calamity before it started!”

    Nocturn shook out the memories of Mary Kelly’s morbidly ruined body. He had Jack the Ripper right where he wanted him, but at the wrong time. That was the last time he stayed on a protect mission, before now. Nocturn sneered, letting is fangs show.

    Aeulus smiled sardonically in response. In a few seconds, they charged at each other. For the first time in about twenty years, the two former friends faced face-to-face once again.