Re: DEATHGAME 9000 [S!3] Round One: Gamexus X99
08-01-2012, 10:12 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Jacquerel.
The stairs creaked ominously under ERIC's fairly substantial weight and his shoulders scraped at the paintwork as he passed. He and his masters had been built on slightly larger dimensions and it was definitely a squeeze to fit him through the narrow corridors of the hotel. His neck craned at odd angles to examine door numbers that were slightly below his angle of vision and he studiously ignored various goons that were staring from behind him or diving out of the way in front. The gangsters mistook his cold lack of care for his “dangerous” surroundings as the mark of the trained muscle their boss so wanted, but in truth while he had no particular desire to harm any of them and would much prefer not to, now that they had been downgraded to the status of “Talking Animals” rather than “People” he was unable to care enough to worry if he accidentally stood on one that stood in his path while pursuing His Duty. As he had demonstrated downstairs to the pair that had been obstructing the way by their refusal to give him a straight answer.
That only left the question... what was he doing making an appointment with a mob boss anyway? ERIC himself didn't really know and wasn't even particularly cognisant of the fact that this was what he was doing. Now that he had an on-board paramedic he'd been built to follow the doctor's instructions (as long as they didn't obviously conflict with his design goals) and he had no reason not to trust that Doctor Gan knew exactly what he was talking about when he said that wandering about in these animals' nest would produce greater long-term benefit to the world's general health than heading directly towards patients. It's not like any of the dots on his radar were a particularly high priority after all, and one was fairly close anyway (virtually just outside the back door!) so he could respond fast if conditions changed.
The doctor himself had spent a little time considering his options in light of the fact that the planet now apparently had a new group of sapient tool-users living on it. It did not take him long to establish that his options were still very much limited and largely consisted of “sit here until you die of old age” and “somehow cure a disease that killed your entire species” however for now the latter option seemed to be “staggeringly unlikely” rather than “utterly impossible”.
He was a doctor and not a virologist and while he obviously therefore had quite some understanding of how diseases worked he didn't have the knowledge to formulate a cure himself, let alone the equipment, but now that he'd found another group of thinking beings there was a slim chance that he could get them to do it for him.
There was a twinge of guilt at the fact that he was involving people in his plans that he had ordered ERIC to classify as little more than dumb animals, but it had been the only way out of that situation and besides, it wasn't like he could do anything for them anyway. If ERIC ate them he'd have to objectively prove to the robot that they could not contract the same disease that was keeping him quarantined until ERIC would consent to release them, even at their own hospital (unless the hospital knew an antidote to a completely alien disease but he didn't even consider that clear impossibility (which was a shame because in video game land they almost certainly would)).
He just didn't have the time to perform extensive medical trials on everyone they stumbled across, especially as this species seemed to be extraordinarily violent.
To get anyone to help him he'd need technology and probably some kind of incentive (although if push came to shove, “cure this disease or you will be unable to leave” would probably work), to buy technology and potentially offer some kind of reward that didn't involve trapping an angry alien in here with him he would need currency.
Say what you will about the dubious morality of working with the mafia, they usually tend to pay well.
A talking cloud? Was this some kind of alien alliance? That would certainly explain how they built up so fast, but nothing had previously suggested that this civilisation was anywhere near the levels of technology that his had been, or even capable of space flight.
The cloud itself didn't acknowledge its own improbability in any way and simply started talking to them as soon as they barged into the room.
“You're already here? That's good. I don't like to be kept waiting, and people don't usually like it when they find out that they've done something I don't like.”
It had been an odd few hours for The Family, and indeed most of Gomorrah's spectral occupants. It was usual, when the ghost city moved into a new patch, for geography to get a little bit confused and sometimes that meant a few new and living occupants. They didn't generally tend to stick around very long and were never much of a problem, those that didn't flee were either consumed by the city's shadows and joined its ranks or simply woke up to find themselves at the bottom of a river wearing a pair of concrete shoes.
The citizens of the various cannibalised cities of the Gamexus though were a different problem entirely.
Disregard for now the zombie infection slowly spreading through the slums, the bizarre exploits going on between groups of heroes in the confusingly expanded labyrinth it now boasted for a sewer system and the sudden and unexpected resurgence of recreational animal fighting rings, these did not really affect the mafia very much (or at least hadn't yet) and the corporeally challenged shade known as The Boss wasn't really sophisticated to care about things that didn't really fall under his area of influence. What he did care about was that he suddenly found that Gomorrah's mix and match approach to city planning had placed another house of organised crime right in the centre of his patch, a bizarre group of individuals who didn't seem to have any trouble at all taking out his men and stealing his business. He couldn't be having that now could he?
“I hear that you can make men... disappear. I happen to have a need for a man with that particular skill set on my staff. I'm sure such a partnership could be very profitable for the both of us.”
A pair of thickset men, faceless and rectangular like walking brick walls, coalesced out of the shadows between ERIC and the door he had entered by, barring his way with conspicuous shotguns.
“Don't spend too long making your mind up, I don't like to be kept waiting.”
Before ERIC could reply, Gan managed to argue himself control over the external microphones. As a living creature he was clearly more qualified to converse with the natives.
“I think we can cut a deal.”
A penthouse apartment suite wasn't really the most secure location anyone could have picked to run shady business deals out of, she thought. These people were clearly amateurs, no wonder daddy was mopping them up so easily.
Having heard enough, she pulled a rather incongruous modern iPhone from her shell and punched in the number for her boss with stubby fingers.
“Hey there Mistah B, I've been on stake out just like you ordered and it looks like the ghost guy is making his move. Just thought you'd like 'ta know!”
A combination of bad reception and a growling accent made the reply a little difficult to decipher, though the turtle girl appeared to be used to it. She had a few too many teeth to speak comfortably herself so she could hardly judge, it was a family thing.
“He's hirin' some new muscle. Pretty big guy it is too, lots of arms and looks fireproof.
Wouldn't be surprised if he were packing some serious heat, don't know why else you'd build a robot so fat!”
Grmmblbll Graaarr hghmgmnnnbll
“Can't say he's from any game I heard of. One of them robot masters or something maybe?”
Hrnghhgrrr! Gargh harrr!
“What do ya mean find out? I can't hardly just go and ask him can I!
...Hello? Mistah B?
Who puts their own daughter on hold, how rude is that!”
The amphibious King Bubs and his Kappa Troopers started life as the veteran antagonists of a running series of platforming games that ended up spanning several decades of sequels and spinoffs. Every game villain knows that their eventual defeat is virtually pre-ordained but being one-upped repeatedly by a pair of Spanish bricklayers several times a year can become tiring for even the most patient tyrant. They didn't even let him win at tennis!
It was during the last of many disconsolate nights tossing back Power Stars at the Last Checkpoint that he realised that he didn't have to do this any more. Making a heavy withdrawal from the Kappa Kingdom's treasury (there are some benefits to being a virtual monarch even if your aggressively expansionist regime never gets anywhere) he picked up a minor league JRPG encounter mob with a vague resemblance to him, gave him a bit of a makeover and paid him off to take his place.
The fake Bubs obviously wasn't prepared at all for such a role and bungled his own plan horribly, making his character seem stupid and comically inept, but apparently this was just what the fans wanted and sales soared.
Faced with user approval there wasn't really much the Gamexus could do about it, it was completely in character and besides it only made sense that Bubs would actually have a series of stunt doubles. How else to explain his numerous deaths by lava?
Using his new found free time he set himself and his kids (never quite as popular in the role of recurring villains as their dad) up in a competing establishment to the one in which he had his epiphany. The Casino Nights Zone was widely known to be inferior as a bar but regardless attracted plenty of the game world's seedier characters, as well as the desperate and the tired who wanted a similar chance to participate in Bubs's Black Market Character Exchange Program (and occasionally those from discontinued series who wanted a way back in).
Few of the other character transplants have ended quite as well and some few have been the cause of sudden series cancellation or fan disillusionment but it's a lucrative business regardless. If you notice a sudden shift in personality between sequels there's a good chance that Bubs is the man to blame.
As such a thorn in the side of the administration he had thus never expected a call straight from the Gamexus' Enforcers themselves, but there they were on line 2 just as he was having a business discussion with his only daughter. Intrigued, he put her on hold and gave them a customarily surly greeting.
“What do you want?”
“We've been watching you, Mr Bubs.”
“Yeah?” he laughed, trying to hold back the eternal urge to cackle but not quite managing it. “I sort of doubt that. We sewed your last infiltrator inside a big shoe just the other day and tossed him in The River Twygz. Big scary water hand came up and grabbed it even before it hit the water and dragged him to the bottom, it were quite a sight.”
“No, we've been watching your daughter. She's sitting on a roof not far from the Last Checkpoint.
Where did you think she got that phone?”
That shut him up.
“It has not escaped our attention that you are deeply involved in several activities that threaten the safety and stability of the Gamexus... however, we are willing to be forgiving.”
“Oh yeah? In return for what?”
“There has been an... incident, our organisation is still struggling to catch up. There are people here that should not be here and some of them are dangerous.
We need more bodies and you have the biggest payroll of mooks in the city. Lend us your men and we'll keep turning a blind eye.”
Bubs considered this carefully. He thrived mostly because there wasn't really any such thing as an organised Gamexus police force (as everyone was immortal, most of its occupants weren't capable of causing any trouble) and while he caused a lot of extra work for whatever governing intelligence worked the Gamexus it didn't seem to be able to directly interfere. If a pair of the Last Checkpoint's ultraboosted guards marched up to his doors though he wouldn't really be able to do anything to stop them, he'd mostly got by just by hoping he wasn't pissing them off quite enough to warrant a raid.
If he said no now, that was almost certainly what was going to happen. He'd hired out his minions before although it was largely pointless in a world where everyone respawned, so this wasn't really too steep a price to be paying for a bit of leg room.
“Yeah alright, you've twisted my arm. Where do I start?”
“Your kid is staring at one of the targets right now. We're going to lead him away for you, I'd advise setting up some kind of ambush.”
During the conversation with the mafioso, the little radar thing that ERIC had picked up in the wrecked car and stuck onto his face had apparently been listening in and had already marked the locations of several gatherings on the map display for him. This was about as disturbing as it was convenient (he'd never really believed it was a working link to the old HazardNet satellite system but hadn't properly considered what else it might be) but it saved him some work.
The fact that it turned out that most of the gang members were turtles with sunglasses, duck beaks and bowls cut into their heads was awfully convenient too. What the hell was even going on here?
“They must be aliens, right? Have you seen any spacecraft around?”
“I have not.”
ERIC didn't think to tell him what he actually had seen, he had work to do and besides that he hadn't been asked. There wasn't really any reason for him to assume that the knowledge that they had been sucked into a grand battle and weren't technically anywhere at the moment was really particularly relevant to the situation at hand, he just knew that the higher ups had a job for him and that he was going to do it.
<font color="#DF8000">As an almost completely literal-minded machine his thought processes were more similar to the Gamexuses itself than any other contestant. Even Weaver, another machine, was much more independent (and his electronic brain had been designed to accommodate a human occupant!).
He wasn't hard to manipulate even for someone who didn't think like a machine, as we have already seen many examples of, but the Gamexus found it particularly easy.
He was just like any other NPC really! Give him a series of waypoints and priories and he sets off on his merry way, wherever you want him to go. If some of the little dots on his stolen minimap didn't actually correspond to gangs of thugs and actually led to ambush points then who would know until he got there? He certainly wouldn't check to make sure, he was doing what he was told.
One of the flags pinged from greenish to red and ERIC obediently spun on one trunklike foot and lumbered forth.</font> High priority! It's fortunate that it was so close by, practically next door to the hotel he'd just left in fact!
Ignoring the questions of his passenger (“Why are you turning around? They are right there! Hello?”) and the thickening of reality that implied the special attention of the mind of Gomorrah he strode inexorably towards a dilapidated apartment building, where demon turtles waited patiently for the signal and a small girl shouted curses at the shadows.
If you're gambling with someone else's chips, you might as well kill two birds with one stone.
The stairs creaked ominously under ERIC's fairly substantial weight and his shoulders scraped at the paintwork as he passed. He and his masters had been built on slightly larger dimensions and it was definitely a squeeze to fit him through the narrow corridors of the hotel. His neck craned at odd angles to examine door numbers that were slightly below his angle of vision and he studiously ignored various goons that were staring from behind him or diving out of the way in front. The gangsters mistook his cold lack of care for his “dangerous” surroundings as the mark of the trained muscle their boss so wanted, but in truth while he had no particular desire to harm any of them and would much prefer not to, now that they had been downgraded to the status of “Talking Animals” rather than “People” he was unable to care enough to worry if he accidentally stood on one that stood in his path while pursuing His Duty. As he had demonstrated downstairs to the pair that had been obstructing the way by their refusal to give him a straight answer.
That only left the question... what was he doing making an appointment with a mob boss anyway? ERIC himself didn't really know and wasn't even particularly cognisant of the fact that this was what he was doing. Now that he had an on-board paramedic he'd been built to follow the doctor's instructions (as long as they didn't obviously conflict with his design goals) and he had no reason not to trust that Doctor Gan knew exactly what he was talking about when he said that wandering about in these animals' nest would produce greater long-term benefit to the world's general health than heading directly towards patients. It's not like any of the dots on his radar were a particularly high priority after all, and one was fairly close anyway (virtually just outside the back door!) so he could respond fast if conditions changed.
The doctor himself had spent a little time considering his options in light of the fact that the planet now apparently had a new group of sapient tool-users living on it. It did not take him long to establish that his options were still very much limited and largely consisted of “sit here until you die of old age” and “somehow cure a disease that killed your entire species” however for now the latter option seemed to be “staggeringly unlikely” rather than “utterly impossible”.
He was a doctor and not a virologist and while he obviously therefore had quite some understanding of how diseases worked he didn't have the knowledge to formulate a cure himself, let alone the equipment, but now that he'd found another group of thinking beings there was a slim chance that he could get them to do it for him.
There was a twinge of guilt at the fact that he was involving people in his plans that he had ordered ERIC to classify as little more than dumb animals, but it had been the only way out of that situation and besides, it wasn't like he could do anything for them anyway. If ERIC ate them he'd have to objectively prove to the robot that they could not contract the same disease that was keeping him quarantined until ERIC would consent to release them, even at their own hospital (unless the hospital knew an antidote to a completely alien disease but he didn't even consider that clear impossibility (which was a shame because in video game land they almost certainly would)).
He just didn't have the time to perform extensive medical trials on everyone they stumbled across, especially as this species seemed to be extraordinarily violent.
To get anyone to help him he'd need technology and probably some kind of incentive (although if push came to shove, “cure this disease or you will be unable to leave” would probably work), to buy technology and potentially offer some kind of reward that didn't involve trapping an angry alien in here with him he would need currency.
Say what you will about the dubious morality of working with the mafia, they usually tend to pay well.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Boss couldn't be said to be entirely what either of them had been expecting, a shifting purple cloud embellished with an incongruous floating cigar. ERIC simply acknowledged that he was in the presence of a “Person” again, and Gan was forced to radically rethink his theories.A talking cloud? Was this some kind of alien alliance? That would certainly explain how they built up so fast, but nothing had previously suggested that this civilisation was anywhere near the levels of technology that his had been, or even capable of space flight.
The cloud itself didn't acknowledge its own improbability in any way and simply started talking to them as soon as they barged into the room.
“You're already here? That's good. I don't like to be kept waiting, and people don't usually like it when they find out that they've done something I don't like.”
It had been an odd few hours for The Family, and indeed most of Gomorrah's spectral occupants. It was usual, when the ghost city moved into a new patch, for geography to get a little bit confused and sometimes that meant a few new and living occupants. They didn't generally tend to stick around very long and were never much of a problem, those that didn't flee were either consumed by the city's shadows and joined its ranks or simply woke up to find themselves at the bottom of a river wearing a pair of concrete shoes.
The citizens of the various cannibalised cities of the Gamexus though were a different problem entirely.
Disregard for now the zombie infection slowly spreading through the slums, the bizarre exploits going on between groups of heroes in the confusingly expanded labyrinth it now boasted for a sewer system and the sudden and unexpected resurgence of recreational animal fighting rings, these did not really affect the mafia very much (or at least hadn't yet) and the corporeally challenged shade known as The Boss wasn't really sophisticated to care about things that didn't really fall under his area of influence. What he did care about was that he suddenly found that Gomorrah's mix and match approach to city planning had placed another house of organised crime right in the centre of his patch, a bizarre group of individuals who didn't seem to have any trouble at all taking out his men and stealing his business. He couldn't be having that now could he?
“I hear that you can make men... disappear. I happen to have a need for a man with that particular skill set on my staff. I'm sure such a partnership could be very profitable for the both of us.”
A pair of thickset men, faceless and rectangular like walking brick walls, coalesced out of the shadows between ERIC and the door he had entered by, barring his way with conspicuous shotguns.
“Don't spend too long making your mind up, I don't like to be kept waiting.”
Before ERIC could reply, Gan managed to argue himself control over the external microphones. As a living creature he was clearly more qualified to converse with the natives.
“I think we can cut a deal.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
From a rooftop across the street, an orange turtle wearing an oversized bow and perhaps too much lipstick on her duck-like beak watched the conversation with interest, using a pink sceptre as some kind of makeshift telescope. She was obviously too far away to hear what anyone was saying, but the Gamexus gave her a helping hand by providing subtitles. A penthouse apartment suite wasn't really the most secure location anyone could have picked to run shady business deals out of, she thought. These people were clearly amateurs, no wonder daddy was mopping them up so easily.
Having heard enough, she pulled a rather incongruous modern iPhone from her shell and punched in the number for her boss with stubby fingers.
“Hey there Mistah B, I've been on stake out just like you ordered and it looks like the ghost guy is making his move. Just thought you'd like 'ta know!”
A combination of bad reception and a growling accent made the reply a little difficult to decipher, though the turtle girl appeared to be used to it. She had a few too many teeth to speak comfortably herself so she could hardly judge, it was a family thing.
“He's hirin' some new muscle. Pretty big guy it is too, lots of arms and looks fireproof.
Wouldn't be surprised if he were packing some serious heat, don't know why else you'd build a robot so fat!”
Grmmblbll Graaarr hghmgmnnnbll
“Can't say he's from any game I heard of. One of them robot masters or something maybe?”
Hrnghhgrrr! Gargh harrr!
“What do ya mean find out? I can't hardly just go and ask him can I!
...Hello? Mistah B?
Who puts their own daughter on hold, how rude is that!”
The amphibious King Bubs and his Kappa Troopers started life as the veteran antagonists of a running series of platforming games that ended up spanning several decades of sequels and spinoffs. Every game villain knows that their eventual defeat is virtually pre-ordained but being one-upped repeatedly by a pair of Spanish bricklayers several times a year can become tiring for even the most patient tyrant. They didn't even let him win at tennis!
It was during the last of many disconsolate nights tossing back Power Stars at the Last Checkpoint that he realised that he didn't have to do this any more. Making a heavy withdrawal from the Kappa Kingdom's treasury (there are some benefits to being a virtual monarch even if your aggressively expansionist regime never gets anywhere) he picked up a minor league JRPG encounter mob with a vague resemblance to him, gave him a bit of a makeover and paid him off to take his place.
The fake Bubs obviously wasn't prepared at all for such a role and bungled his own plan horribly, making his character seem stupid and comically inept, but apparently this was just what the fans wanted and sales soared.
Faced with user approval there wasn't really much the Gamexus could do about it, it was completely in character and besides it only made sense that Bubs would actually have a series of stunt doubles. How else to explain his numerous deaths by lava?
Using his new found free time he set himself and his kids (never quite as popular in the role of recurring villains as their dad) up in a competing establishment to the one in which he had his epiphany. The Casino Nights Zone was widely known to be inferior as a bar but regardless attracted plenty of the game world's seedier characters, as well as the desperate and the tired who wanted a similar chance to participate in Bubs's Black Market Character Exchange Program (and occasionally those from discontinued series who wanted a way back in).
Few of the other character transplants have ended quite as well and some few have been the cause of sudden series cancellation or fan disillusionment but it's a lucrative business regardless. If you notice a sudden shift in personality between sequels there's a good chance that Bubs is the man to blame.
As such a thorn in the side of the administration he had thus never expected a call straight from the Gamexus' Enforcers themselves, but there they were on line 2 just as he was having a business discussion with his only daughter. Intrigued, he put her on hold and gave them a customarily surly greeting.
“What do you want?”
“We've been watching you, Mr Bubs.”
“Yeah?” he laughed, trying to hold back the eternal urge to cackle but not quite managing it. “I sort of doubt that. We sewed your last infiltrator inside a big shoe just the other day and tossed him in The River Twygz. Big scary water hand came up and grabbed it even before it hit the water and dragged him to the bottom, it were quite a sight.”
“No, we've been watching your daughter. She's sitting on a roof not far from the Last Checkpoint.
Where did you think she got that phone?”
That shut him up.
“It has not escaped our attention that you are deeply involved in several activities that threaten the safety and stability of the Gamexus... however, we are willing to be forgiving.”
“Oh yeah? In return for what?”
“There has been an... incident, our organisation is still struggling to catch up. There are people here that should not be here and some of them are dangerous.
We need more bodies and you have the biggest payroll of mooks in the city. Lend us your men and we'll keep turning a blind eye.”
Bubs considered this carefully. He thrived mostly because there wasn't really any such thing as an organised Gamexus police force (as everyone was immortal, most of its occupants weren't capable of causing any trouble) and while he caused a lot of extra work for whatever governing intelligence worked the Gamexus it didn't seem to be able to directly interfere. If a pair of the Last Checkpoint's ultraboosted guards marched up to his doors though he wouldn't really be able to do anything to stop them, he'd mostly got by just by hoping he wasn't pissing them off quite enough to warrant a raid.
If he said no now, that was almost certainly what was going to happen. He'd hired out his minions before although it was largely pointless in a world where everyone respawned, so this wasn't really too steep a price to be paying for a bit of leg room.
“Yeah alright, you've twisted my arm. Where do I start?”
“Your kid is staring at one of the targets right now. We're going to lead him away for you, I'd advise setting up some kind of ambush.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Gan had anticipated it being far more difficult to coax his mechanical jailor into following his scheme than it actually had been. Having convinced him that humans were just animals and also having ordered him to stop picking up animals for treatment you would have thought that persuading him to wander around picking up gang members and “vanishing” them for the mafia (he hadn't bothered to tell The Boss that they were just put in storage rather than digested) might have taken some effort, but it was not so.During the conversation with the mafioso, the little radar thing that ERIC had picked up in the wrecked car and stuck onto his face had apparently been listening in and had already marked the locations of several gatherings on the map display for him. This was about as disturbing as it was convenient (he'd never really believed it was a working link to the old HazardNet satellite system but hadn't properly considered what else it might be) but it saved him some work.
The fact that it turned out that most of the gang members were turtles with sunglasses, duck beaks and bowls cut into their heads was awfully convenient too. What the hell was even going on here?
“They must be aliens, right? Have you seen any spacecraft around?”
“I have not.”
ERIC didn't think to tell him what he actually had seen, he had work to do and besides that he hadn't been asked. There wasn't really any reason for him to assume that the knowledge that they had been sucked into a grand battle and weren't technically anywhere at the moment was really particularly relevant to the situation at hand, he just knew that the higher ups had a job for him and that he was going to do it.
<font color="#DF8000">As an almost completely literal-minded machine his thought processes were more similar to the Gamexuses itself than any other contestant. Even Weaver, another machine, was much more independent (and his electronic brain had been designed to accommodate a human occupant!).
He wasn't hard to manipulate even for someone who didn't think like a machine, as we have already seen many examples of, but the Gamexus found it particularly easy.
He was just like any other NPC really! Give him a series of waypoints and priories and he sets off on his merry way, wherever you want him to go. If some of the little dots on his stolen minimap didn't actually correspond to gangs of thugs and actually led to ambush points then who would know until he got there? He certainly wouldn't check to make sure, he was doing what he was told.
One of the flags pinged from greenish to red and ERIC obediently spun on one trunklike foot and lumbered forth.</font> High priority! It's fortunate that it was so close by, practically next door to the hotel he'd just left in fact!
Ignoring the questions of his passenger (“Why are you turning around? They are right there! Hello?”) and the thickening of reality that implied the special attention of the mind of Gomorrah he strode inexorably towards a dilapidated apartment building, where demon turtles waited patiently for the signal and a small girl shouted curses at the shadows.
If you're gambling with someone else's chips, you might as well kill two birds with one stone.