Location: Ishinomori, Xiva
The feeling of wind on his body, the light hum of his motorcycle, and the thrill of speed. Riding out on the lonely road, it was times like this when he was truly at peace.
Dressed in a blue and black motorcycle jacket, a long white scarf trailing behind him, the rabbit road on towards his destination. Normally, he would just go out and ride his bike, without a care in the world, perhaps help out a few people around his home village. But now wasn’t the time for that. Today was a day for justice.
Most of Xiva’s residency was located on man made islands, made of metal. Meanwhile, the archepelego itself was delegated to farming or simply untouched by Qestian hands. There were, however, a few sparse villages on those islands, but they were few and far between.
That being said, it wasn’t his village that was attacked, but one completely unrelated. Criminals had kidnapped the farmers, holding them for ransom. The main concern for the government was how this would affect the economy, with those farmers being as important as they were. But his concern was entirely focused on those poor few farmers, likely tied up, being beaten, unable to fight back. Then there were the families of those captured, worrying that they might not be able to see them again. Lastly, there were the civilians living in the cities, who would be going hungry without a supply chain. He was a hero of justice and was not going to let that happen.
“Let’s go.” He said, revving his engine, and speeding off, as fast as his bike could go.
The warehouse, old and abandoned, having once been used for storing grain, was now the home of the criminals. Lightning Strike, a notorious gang and an off shoot of the Xivan imperialists, back during the war. Just like the Northist movement, they still lingered 10 years after the war had ended. A tall Gila Monster strutted next to the group of farmers, now tied up in the center of the warehouse, his tail swaying to the side.
“Two days… Two more days.” He adjusting his hat, crouching down to the level of the hostages, a coy look on his face. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think they’re sending anyone for you… Tax write offs, maybe?”
Lightning Strike Lieutenant
Gel “Great Shocker” Badan
With a sarcastic sigh, he shook his head. “But I’m not without my kindness. Promised not to kill a single one of you. Really, I think-”
“Bastard!” One of the younger hostages, a rat, shouted, the 10 Lightning Grunts in the room, previously chatting among themselves, went silent. The boy was about 19 years old, the youngest person in the whole room. “You’re gonna get what’s coming for you!”
Gel hummed, looking at the boy. So brave in the face of danger, much better than the old men at least. He would make a good Lightning Strike member. However, he reached over to him silently, a stoic look on his face, causing the adults among the hostages gasped. Gel took hold of one of the boy’s whiskers, then quickly plucked it, causing the boy to wince in pain. “I’d watch that mouth of yours, boy!” He stood up, “Keep in mind, I said that I wouldn’t kill a single one of you, I didn’t say that I wouldn’t hurt you.” He said, before immediately delivering a brutal kick to the boy’s face, his leather shoes leaving a large bloody mark on the side of the kid’s head. “So shut the fuck up for another two days! No one is coming to rescue you!”
The ransom, a sum of 1 Billion Soma plus amnesty, made perfect sense to them. The artificial islands that every lived on had no agriculture. No place for livestock. If every farm on the Xivan landmass went down, it would easily topple the supply line. Yes, they could rely on New Castor or even Yisk to help them, but that was a big if, especially after the Last War.
“Rider.” Another member of the hostages said.
“Who?” Gel, who had been wiping the boy’s blood off of his shoe, turned to face the old man. He was also a rat. Possibly the young boy’s grandfather?
“Rider is coming… I know it!”
Gel heard about this Rider. A mysterious vigilante who never showed his face. He was said to be so full of cybernetics that he was more machine than man; many Qestians modified their bodies with internal cybernetics, to boost physical abilities mainly, but this man was on a whole different level; rumor had it that he was a former Lightning Strike project that had betrayed them. Whole squads of Lightning Strike were left decimated in his wake, with the only sign of his arrival being motorcycle tracks. But, despite all this, Gel scoffed at the notion! “Rider?! Do you honestly believe he’s going to show up? Do you honestly believe he’s real?” He shrugged, shaking his head. “Very well, how’s this sound? Forget the ransom. If this Rider of yours shows up in the next hour, I’ll let all of you go!”
“He will show up… That’s a promise!” Another hostage exclaimed.
“He’ll be here!” Another screamed as well
“Rider!” Another…
Soon the hostages, even the young boy who had recovered from the kick to the face, were all starting to scream in a fervor for their hero. But Gel only stood there and smiled. He hadn’t seen the Rider before, he had no reason to believe they existed. Everything was just word of mouth from a couple of the Lightning Strike grunts.
Minutes passed and he paced around for a little bit. Even the hostages had calmed down, going silent. From the looks of things, just as Gel predicted, their hero wasn’t showing up.
“…I told you guys, no one is coming to save you.” He said, “You might as well pray to whatever god you worship.”
More time passed, about 30 minutes since he made his so called promise. Gel lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, and exhaling out his nostrils. He figured it would be a good time to call it a night and start heading home, the hostages could sleep here for the night, the guards would swap shifts. “Alright, see you all tomorrow…?” He said, drifting off, as he heard a loud crashing sound outside, the sound of wood being smashed. Screams as well. He looked to one of the guards, motioning with him to run outside and check it out.
“Sir! Sir!” A Lightning Strike grunt ran in, panicking. “He’s here! The Rider is here. White scarf! Blue jacket! That’s him!”
“You’re fucking kidding me?” Gel said, throwing his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it. He knew he said he’d set the hostages free if the Rider showed up, but he wasn’t about to do that! As if he’d keep such a stupid promise.
“Sir, we can’t stop him! He’s too fast!” Another shouted over the radio, only for it to cut to static. Moments later, said guard came flying through one of the windows, rolling several feet before stopping. That man weighed at least 200 pounds, yet he was thrown like it was nothing!
Gel motioned to the other grunts in the room, ten of his best men. The 10 of them all stood in front of Gel, acting as a wall between Rider and the hostages, each of them armed with standard issue stun batons; a shock from one of those would incapacitate even the strongest of men. “Hold this position!” Gel shouted, clenching his fist, hold it out to the side, his eyes focused on he heavy warehouse door. The action could be heard outside of it. “Wait for him-” The door burst open, broken off of its hinges, pieces of wood and dust were sent flying.
The hostages were cheered. Their hero had arrived.
The villains trembled. Their punishment had arrived.
“You! State your name, your motives, and who you work for!” Gel shouted.
The lone rabbit, a black helmet with blue lens obscuring his face, walked through the cloud of dust. He answered all three at once, “Justice.”
Fighter
Gentaro “Lago Rider” Hojo
The ten grunts rushed the man all at once. He was strong, but there was no way he could fight all 10 of them at once. They were proven wrong.
A kick the first’s snout, breaking his jaw. A quick series of punches to the second and third, breaking ribs. The forth brought down by a stomp to the knee followed by a backhand to the head. The next six grunts didn’t fare much better. It wasn’t just his strength, but his unparalleled speed. So fast that Gel couldn’t barely register his movements, seeing his troops dispatched with no effort.
Slowly, the rabbit, standing with all ten soldiers at his feet, made eye contact with Gel. “Well?”
“Dammit!” He shouted, running away, “Screw this! Take the hostages! I just followed orders!” He didn’t like picking fights he couldn’t win!
Watching the man run away, Gentaro shook his head, disgusted by the display of cowardice. He had no words for him, as he crouched down, and jumped into the air.
As Gel ran away, he looked over his shoulder, to see if the Rider chasing him. “Huh?” he stopped running, realizing that he was gone… Until he looked into the air: The Rider was above him, falling towards him in a dive kick.
“Lago Kick!” Gentaro shouted, as his kick made contact with Gel’s torso, the Lightning Strike commander didn’t stand a chance. For as long as he breathed air, as long as he could still walk, evil would always fall to good.
It wasn’t long before the lightning strike agents were in the same place as the hostages, tied up and restrained, awaiting law enforcement to arrive. The farmers had gathered around Gentaro, cheering for him. He had also removed his helmet, revealing himself to be a very average looking rabbit, proving the tales of him looking disfigured under the mask false. But he held up a hand, signaling everyone to stop for a moment, as he spotted someone in the corner.
A man in a red and black suit watched. Despite his enormous size and being a rhinocerous, he had been unnoticed by anyone; them possibly mistaking him for a piece of the environment. An invitation to Primal in his hand. He snorted, he had high expectations for the Rider, but he was still impressed.
Redliner
Oakley “Stealth Rock” Hardtack
“...Who are you…?” Gentaro said, walking towards the Redliner.
“Just a man giving you an offer you can’t refuse.” He said, approaching the Rider, ready to give him the explanation.
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Location: Snowfall, Yisk
It was another big event! The great wrestler Opal was having another show today. From the VIP seats, a doberman by the name of Zio, watched. If there was one thing that he loved about being a Redliner, it was that it was super easy to get VIP seats to venues like this.
Redliner
Zio “All Season Sunlight” Maragi
He was a karate master, not a wrestler, but the art of wrestling always interested him. The two fighting styles couldn’t be further from one another actually, while karate was about turning your body into a weapon, being able to be used in and outside of a ring, wrestling was simply something that didn’t exist outside of said ring; yes, it was true that you could use pins, throws, and suplexes as a bizarre form of self defense, but that wasn’t wrestling at its core. Wrestlers were entertainers first, fighters second. That being said, he couldn’t not respect wrestlers.
“There she is.” A snow leopard next to him said, sipping a gimlet cocktail, two more empty glasses on the table next to him. He was a very skinny, short man.
Handler
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Gem “Baby Brother” Lightstone
Out on the stage was another snow leopard, but she was far different. She was enormous, built like a brickhouse made of smaller brickhouses. Dressed in a red skirt and tube top, as well as a red mask decorated with yellow stars that covered all but her snout, eyes, and two holes in the top for her ears. She looked absolutely ecstatic to be in the ring, waving and cheering to the audience.
Fighter
Opal “Yisk’s Brightest Star” Lightstone
“Impressive.” Zio said, taking a drink of his own beverage, a whiskey sour with extra egg white. “Too see her fight from here is amazing. Must be even better to see her fight up close.”
The person fighting Opal was another female wrestler, definitely well built, but nowhere near the massive muscle that the snow leopard had. Looks like Opal was on the defense right now, tanking a powerful clothesline from her opponent. Gem laughed, “Would you believe there was a time when I was bigger than her?”
“You’re her big brother, right.” Zio nodded, before flagging down a waitress for another whiskey sour.
“Mmhm, I’m 8 years older than her. The whole Baby Brother thing is just because that’s what she calls me, I went with it because it’s cute honestly.” He said, finishing his third gimlet. He was done drinking for the night. He did love watching his sister fight. Not just because of the income it brought, that was tertiary at this point. Secondly was the fact that he too was a fighting maniac, just like the rest of Primal’s target audience; not participating in fights, no, but watching them. Didn’t matter who he was watching, if it was a street fight by a few low lives, or his sister fighting in the ring, he loved seeing bloodshed. “Want anything to eat, sir?” He asked, his tail wagging.
“No thank you, had a big lunch before I got here. Yisk cuisine is quite hearty.” Zio said, buzzed enough to start lounging casually in his chair; he was relaxed enough to loosen his tie. He continued to observe the fight, “How scripted is this fight?”
“Scripting?” Gem raised his brow. “What script?” He leaned in towards Zio, grinning. “Ah, you mean the characters, the faces and heels, that’s all playing pretend; Opal’s opponent is playing the role of a dastardly villain, after all. Opal almost always plays the face. But the combat, that’s all real. Punches, kicks, throws, suplexes, clutches… Nothing here is fake.”
“So it’s like a baby version of Primal.”
Gem’s earlier expression faded, now looking annoyed, “Hey, don’t talk shit about this place,” Gem said, barring his fangs. Maybe it was the alcohol making him so easily angered. “You might be Primal, but you’re still a guest here.” He said, irritated enough to take another gimlet.
“My apologies.” Zio shrugged, thinking of pointing out that he has more influence over this place as a Redliner than Gem himself, but he liked the guy too much to do something like that. “Ah!” He shouted, standing up from his chair, watching the ring as someone threw chair into the ring, the heel caught it. The famous steel chair and Opal was on one knee, this wasn’t going to be good for her.
“Watch.” Gem said.
The fighter, raising the chair over her head, swung it down like an executioner’s axe, and slammed it right on Opal’s head, making a loud PANG sound. The crowd gasped, some shouting no, but Gem remained smiling.
The whole crowd went silent, then everyone mutually realized at once: The chair was more damaged than Opal’s head. A large dent in it in the shape of her forehead was left on the impact point. The crowd went wild.
Those cheers were the final and most important reason why Gem liked watching fighting so much. Wrestling was fighting second and entertainment first. They were a small steel working village, they were unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and the natural deathly cold of Yisk didn’t do anything to boost the moral. Opal’s character, a shining starry hero, was the bit of optimism they all needed. With a wide grin, she stood up, taking the chair from her opponent and tossing it aside. Leaning in towards her, Opal grinned, and whispered into her ear. “Sorry about this.” Quickly, too fast for the heel to react, she got her into a headlock. “Here’s one for you, guy in the black and red suit!” She said, pointing directly to Zio, while the heel continued to try and break free of the grab.
Zio blushed, putting his hands to his snout. She called him out directly! The spotlight was pointing at him!
Then, Opal flipped her opponent upside down, her legs right up, and into the air, and jumped into the air, slamming the heel’s upper back and head into the mat.
PILEDRIVER!
The crowd went wild and the room shook on impact. The match was won.
Later, after the match, and people were going home, Zio found himself in the breakroom. The place truly had a nice breakroom, humble and cozy, nothing extravagant. Opal was already saying goodbye to her opponent, waving to her as she left. Looks like she was doing perfectly fine, despite being on the receiving end of such a brutal piledriver.
Zio, invite in hand, approached the giant woman. She was even bigger up close, probably over 7 feet tall. No, it was more like 7 and a half feet? Being in her presence was intimidating… Until she spoke, turning to Zio.
“Ah! Hey! You’re the guy who was talking with my brother! He said you wanted to meet with me.” She grinned, still wearing her mask. Her voice, she talked like a bubbly school girl.
“Yes, indeed, did he fill you in on what Primal is? It’ll make my job easier.” He nodded.
“Uh, you guys are like some guys who get a bunch of people and have them fight and stuff?” She rubbed the back of her head, humming, “It’s like this wrestling but all kinds of people join it and it’s more dangerous. I don’t know, my brain kind of shut off when he went into the complex stuff!”
“You know what, that works.” Zio said, holding out the invitation. “You don’t need to join, but I feel you’ll fit right in. Likewise, we can sit down and discuss-”
She quickly took the invite, the card absolutely tiny in her hands. “I’ll take it! Call me whenever you want to see me kick some ass!
“Well, that was easy…” He said, wide eyed, wishing that all invitations would go that easy. “Uh, one more thing…” He said, taking out a tiny notebook, plus a pen. “Mind signing this?” He smiled hopefully, like a little kid.
“Oh! Uh…” Opal, with a bashful look on her face. Oh my, she wasn’t very good with these kinds of things! But he looked so hopeful and endearing, she couldn’t turn him away. She looked around the room. “H-how about instead,” She took the pen from Zio, then walked to the couch in the room and picked up the dented chair from before, and handed it over to him. “Take this.” She said, using the pen to sign the part of it that wasn’t dented.
“Th-thank you!” Zio said, shaking. For that moment, he was the happiest member of Primal. Wrestling sure was amazing.
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Location: Ivory Dome, New Castor
“Alright, enough of this nonsense!” A nice suited horse shouted, looking at the white cat now sitting on his desk.
New Castor President
Eddy Morgans
The bodyguards of the area all stood lined up in the room, arms folded, unable to do anything but watch. The leader of one of the three great powers of the world, was now rendered meek and helpless in front of one of Primal’s elite agents. The orchid pins on their chest essentially permitting them to do anything they wanted… Well, within reason at least.
This was apparently within reason.
“Oh I’m almost done, Mr. President.” The white cat said, kicking his feet up, moving to a lounging position, a bowl of pistachios balanced on his belly, several discarded shells and skins lying on the floor and desk. “I told you, I wouldn’t be long.”
Red Liner
Jamie “Skull Crusher” Von Carvana
“I’d watch your mouth though, your merry men over there are a bunch of amateurs. If you wanna hurt me or even kill me? Well, I’m sure Primal will be bringing the hammer down right on your country.” He giggled.
“Why do I get the feeling they sent you because you’re the most likely to do this.” Eddy sighed, sitting down. It wasn’t the first time Primal sent someone to the Ivory Dome. Why did they have to send one of the Carvana Triplets? They were psycho even by Redliner standards. “Now, what do you want? We don’t keep tabs on every one of our citizens, we can’t magically find a fighter for your meat grinder of a fighting syndicate.”
“You don’t keep tabs on everyone, but we do.” Jamie said, sitting up again. “Now check this shit out.” He said, flicking an empty pistachio shell at one of guards, watching it bounce off of his sunglasses. “Bullseye… Literally.” He literally hit a bull in the eye. “But nah, I’m not asking you to look for someone for us. As a matter of fact, the person I’m looking for is right in this room with us.” He flicked another shell, hitting another guard right on the nose, “It certainly isn’t that guy.”
“Enough!” Eddy shouted, watching another pistachio go by his head, flicking another guard. “This is ridiculous, what’s this going to accomplish!”
“Don’t worry about it.” The cat said, chuckling, as he took aim at another guard. A meek looking honey badger, with large round glasses. She was the most pathetic and unassuming of the guards, possessing a tiny frame. Other than her enormous paws and sharp claws. Jamie flicked the shell towards and-
She swiped it away, causing the shell to ricochet away from her. Her large claws glimmered like daggers. Her breathing was unusually heavy, her face shifting to a scowl, but only for a second. Then, it shifted to the same meek expression from before. “Ah- Oh no! I’m sorry!” She said, looking like she was about to cry.
Fighter
Annette “Blood & Guts” Riverhood
“Bingo!” Jamie set the bowl aside and stood up, walking towards Annette. “You swiped that away on reflex didn’t you? You might be a guard and were ordered to stay still and not move, by me, yet you couldn’t stop your own reflexes. Annette Riverhood…” He said, flicking his hand, the Primal Invite appearing in his hand like magic. Her name was on it. “You are just as the people describe you, meek looking, pathetic, look like you couldn’t hurt a fly. Where’s the bloodlust that I heard so much about? I saw it there for a moment.”
Annette stammered, tapping her claws together. “Um… I don’t like to think about… Blood too much.”
“Leave her alone,” Eddy said, walking up to the Redliner, taking a risk.
“Shut your mouth, Mr. President!” Jamie said, not even looking at him.
“Please, you should take someone else.” Annette said.
There were tales about a brutal warrior, serving as a bodyguard for the president himself. The tall tales you hear around bars and on internet forums, about people torn to ribbons by ten sharp claws. Was this really the woman who those rumors were about?
“Actually.” Jamie said, smiling, holding up a single finger as if to say EUREKA, “I have an idea. Annette, I give you and you alone permission to retaliate to what I’m about to do next.”
“What’s that?” She asked, keeping her fidgeting. What was this pint sized psycho planning?
“Something that no one else in this country can do.” He said, looking to the president. Fast as a bullet, he grabbed the politician by his thick neck. His neck was extremely thick, but his hand still pressed against his windpipe and his thumb was positioned over the horse’s thyroid artery. His free hand was held back, clenched fist, a wide grin on his face. The rest of the guards were screaming, shouting at him, knowing they couldn’t do anything without risking Primal’s wraith. “Go ahead and stop me before I splatter Mr President’s-”
Before he could finish his sentence, he felt a tremendous impact to his head. His mouth tasted of blood. He was flying across the room, back towards the president’s desk. Annette, the meek looking badger, had kicked him. His thoughts as he flew across the room, everything feeling like it was moving in slow motion were “So that’s what that feels like?”
Jamie landed face first into his bowl of pistachios, before tumbling off the desk and onto the floor.
Eddy, gasping, holding his throat, groaned. “Freak…” He looked over to Annette, who had an entirely different expression on her face. A determined, vicious look, like she was about to thoroughly massacre the man on the floor.
“I’ll kill you if you touch him again!” She said, her gigantic claws glistening. She swiped a few times with both hands, the blades making a clicking noise as they made contact with one another.
“Alright, I’ll go ahead and concede.” Jamie said, rolling onto his back, taking out the invite from his pocket once more. “You still want to join.”
“She doesn’t!” the president shouted, watching Jamie get up and brush himself off. That kick was enough to shatter a normal person’s skull. The only reason Jamie wasn’t dead, of course, was that Primal didn’t hire normal people.
“I do actually.” Annette said, putting her hands in front of her, frowning. Just like that, she reverted to her previous state, her eyes were focused on a splatter of blood on the floor.
“Annette!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I think this is needed.” She looked at her hand, seeing her claws. “I… These violent impulses of mine, how I just get taken over. If this is part of me, then Primal is an outlet for it, maybe I can even learn to control it.”
“But Annette… The danger it’ll pose to you. Someone else can go in your stead.”
“It’s fine!” She raised her voice. “Ah! Sorry… Uh, that was rude.” She took the invitation in her hands. “Maybe this will mean they will stop coming by.”
“Probably won’t but still.” Jamie said, putting his finger to one of his nostrils, and blowing, a long stream of blood sprayed from his nose.
“Still won’t forgive you.” She furrowed her brow.
“I’m cool with that.” He said, putting his hands in his pocket, making his way out.
With that, there was but one invite left to be handed out.
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Location: Unknown, Unknown
A young man sat at a desk, cloaked in total darkness. The desk, cluttered with Rubix Cubes of various colors and patterns, the young boy twisted one of the cubes around in his hands, before setting it aside. Then, he picked up another. Solved that one. Then set it aside. Again and again and again, sitting in complete silence.
The door behind him opened up and a man walked in, dressed in a lab coat. “Subject 7? I’m turning the lights on.” He said, “You can continue with what you’re doing though.”
“Okay.” The young man said.
The lights came on, revealing the boy to me a squirrel, about 20 years old. A large pile of solved Rubix cubes were on his right, while a small number of unsolved ones were on his left. He continued to solve them.
The room was cold and sterile, completely white. Nothing but a bed, a desk, and a punching bag in the corner.
Fighter
Skell “Subject 7” ???
“The Primal invite came today.” The scientist said, “I accepted it for you on your behest. It is what you wanted, correct?”
“Very well.” The boy said.”Yes, it is what I wanted.”
“You seem nonplussed, are you okay?” The man said, writing on his clipboard.
“It doesn’t interest me, but I will fight.”
“Very well…” The man said, putting the invite down on the boy’s desk. “But, there is something you should know. Subject 8 has been invited as well… I don’t know how much that interests you, but it is on the table.” He nodded, walking out of the room, turning off the lights once more.
Even in the darkness, Skell could see the invite, his eyes adjusting.
“Subject 8…” He finished the last Rubix cube, before picking up the card in his hands, a slow grin crossing his face.
The scientist walked down the hall, to another room, this one had the same dull colors as Skell’s room, but looked more like a breakroom, or employee lounge. The only man sitting there, was an arctic fox, dressed head to toe in metallic armor, gas mask and all. The only way one could tell his species was his ears poking out through the back of the helmet.
“Sorry for the wait, it isn’t often we get guests here.” He bowed, “Especially someone like you! One of Qest’s greatest minds.”
“Mmm… Yes…” the fox nodded, a finished bowl of pasta in front of him, somehow eaten despite no one seeing him remove his mask. “You always provide Primal with the best technology.” He held up an invite of his own, but this one was gold instead of red. “I felt it was only responsible and amicable for be to stop by…”
Game Master
Phi “Underworld Scientist” Gamma
There were several technologies throughout Primal, but one of the most important were biotics; machines replicating organic life. Artificial hearts, limbs that looked 100 percent like the real thing, synthetic fur. They existed for decades, but Phi was the man who perfected them, founding Second Chance Biotics.
“Ah, this is exciting…” He smiled widely behind his mask, “So many new members! Look at these guys…” He said, looking at a bunch of files on the table, showing the newly invited members. He leaned over the table, his back a perfect arc. “Oh my, she’s my type.” He said, looking at Opal’s bio. There were a few he wasn’t impressed with. The Pocketknife guy didn’t look like anything special. Nor did this Annette girl. This Pilotte guy… Oh my, there will be bloodshed.
“We’re working on something special too. It should be ready by the tournament next year.”
“Yes, yes, quiet now…” Phi said, sitting back, “It’s time for the games to begin!”