A/N: Well, here it is, the final chapter in this part of the G.I. series. There will be more, I just have to think of something, which could be a while. Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows. As always, a huge thanks to Dlwells51, none of this stuff would see the light of day if it weren't for her, she's my fanfic security blanket. I changed quite a bit of this since she's seen it last so all mistakes are definitely mine.

Warning: Violence

Disclaimer: Nope, even after all this time, I still don't own anything having to do with the tv show MacGyver.

0-0-0

The ride back to the forward operating base took less than forty minutes but to everyone inside the crew compartment of the Blackhawk, it seemed like hours.

Briggs sat on the right side of the helicopter, as far away from Box and Coop, as he possibly could without falling out. The two operators had strategically placed their bulk between Mac and Briggs as they sat facing forward.

Briggs' attempt at glaring at Jack was lost on the operator as Jack had set his back against the bulkhead, left foot hanging out the door. As soon as they'd lifted off, he closed his eyes, seeming to be asleep, not a care in the world. Coop and Box shared an amused look as Jack's nonchalant attitude infuriated Briggs even more.

Mac wasn't sure what to think, this was a whole new situation. He'd been on the receiving end of being bullied and had been saved on one particular occasion by his best friend Bozer, but that was in grade school. These were two very deadly, very pissed grown men about to go at it.

Mac was concerned for Jack. He knew Jack was a good fighter, he had, after all, shown Mac quite a few moves and was deceptively quick when it came to hand to hand combat, but he was hurt. Mac had proven that. And Briggs was bigger than Jack, not by much, but bigger all the same.

Mac watched as Box and Coop seemed to be taking everything in stride, grinning and elbowing each other occasionally when one of them said something only the other could hear.

The closer to the base they got, the more nervous Mac became. Coop and Box didn't seem to be the least bit nervous and Jack looked like he was asleep. Mac couldn't stop fidgeting, the small piece of wire he'd pulled out of his pocket had been twisted into so many different shapes, the plastic coating had worn out and the wire had started to break.

As the helicopter started to descend, Jack opened his eyes and straightened, instantly alert. He leaned forward and unclipped his rifle, handing it to Boxer without a word, the relaxed state he was in, replaced by a business like set to his jaw.

As the helicopter touched down, Jack jumped out turned around and used the floor of the helicopter as a shelf for all of his gear. He removed his helmet, turning it upside down, throwing his gloves and elbow pads in the upturned head gear. The ear piece and vest were next. Jack unclipped the waist belt and leg straps of the thigh holster and handed the pistol to Coop as the big man ducked out of the helicopter. Jack leaned over and pulled a knife from his boot and deposited it in his helmet.

Mac surveyed the group, he couldn't see what Briggs was doing but, by the looks of his friends, he would have thought they were getting ready to go out on a mission. He swallowed nervously, as the words Search and Destroy came to mind.

Mac remained in the helicopter, not wanting to step over the top of Jack while the operator was removing the tools of his trade. As nervous for his friend as he was, he was also relieved to see Jack removing all of his weapons because at this point, he wasn't entirely sure Jack wouldn't kill Briggs given their history.

Before Mac could exit the helicopter, Jack looked up, "Do me a favor and watch my stuff, this ain't gonna take long."

Jack yelled through the crew compartment to the other side where Briggs was standing. "You ready asshole? Let's get this over with, my dinner's waitin."

Mac slung Jack's vest over his shoulder and held the helmet and it's contents under his arm as the group followed Jack to the range.

A few soldiers that were standing around, watched as the group strode by. By their reaction, they had recognized that something serious was going down. Mac watched as they dropped their heads and headed in the opposite direction, as if they hadn't seen a thing.

When Jack and company arrived at the range, Briggs unclipped his rifle and bent down to set it on a shooting bench. Before he could stand, Jack swung a haymaker left, hitting Briggs in the side of the head. Briggs dropped to a knee, reaching up hanging onto the post to keep from falling.

Jack stepped back, waiting for Briggs to recover. He knew he was in for a fight as soon as Briggs seemed to brush off the punch.

Coop leaned toward Mac, "I'd have kept going if it were me, Jack's being nice."

Briggs spat and stood up, still in full combat gear. "You mind if I shed this stuff or you plan on sucker punching me again?"

Jack took another step back and held his arms out to the side. "Go right ahead, figured I owed you at least that much you piece of shit, consider us even for that crap you pulled back at Slappy's."

Briggs laid his vest on the bench and unclipped his pistol depositing it next to his rifle. "You deserved everything you got, I would have passed selection if it weren't for you and you're dirty tactics."

Jack smiled a feral smile. "Like the man said when he booted your sorry ass, there are no rules in fighting, and I don't fight fair."

Briggs reached up as if to undo his helmet, "Neither do I!" He suddenly charged forward tackling Jack. The move caught everyone by surprise, Mac heard the air rush out of Jack as the two men hit the ground. Briggs had left his helmet, gloves and elbow pads on when he'd attacked.

Mac and Coop both stepped forward as Briggs used his helmet to head butt Jack who was still on the bottom of the pile. Boxer reached an arm out stopping their forward progress. "Just leave em be, this has been a long time coming and ole Wyatt can handle himself, don't you worry, Briggs is about to get schooled."

Mac appreciated Boxer's optimism but at the moment, it didn't look like Jack was schooling anyone as Briggs was still on top of Jack, swinging wildly as he drove a knee into Jack's side.

Jack shifted his shoulders rolling slightly to the left and brought his right arm under Briggs throat. As soon as Briggs drove his knee into Jack's side, Jack grunted and threw his left arm out to the side and pushed up with his legs and arm while pulling Briggs head to the right. Briggs toppled over, being knocked off balance by the move.

Before Briggs had finished going over, Jack kicked his feet out, the move was so fast, Mac couldn't figure out how he had done it but Jack was now standing crouched behind Briggs, holding him in a head lock.

Jack's face showed no emotion, but his voice carried a deadly tone. "I could snap your neck right now and end this shit." Jack squeezed adding more pressure to back up his words. "But I ain't gonna do that, I figure you need to be taught a lesson, you threatened the wrong kid this time son." Jack let go and stepped back just out of range as Briggs spun around and stood in a boxer's stance. "You're all talk Dalton, always flapping your lip," he feigned a right and swung a left uppercut that Jack barely avoided, coming in landing a left of his own to Brigg's middle.

Briggs swept his right leg catching Jack in the left knee. Jack had so far been able to use his left exclusively but the leg sweep had left his right vulnerable and he knew what was coming if he didn't retaliate. Every possible move ran through his head in the matter of a split second. Before Briggs could follow the leg sweep with the typical left hook, Jack threw a right cross that connected with Brigg's jaw.

The explosion of pain in his wrist was worse than the original injury and Jack's face instantly turned a shade paler. Briggs tried the leg sweep again, and again, on instinct alone, Jack swung his right, this time Briggs ducked his head and Jack's fist connected with the soldiers helmet.

The trio watching cringed at the sound.

Jack stepped back holding his hand protectively against his side.

Mac, Box, and Coop all saw the look on Jack's face and knew this fight just got a little more complicated and quite possibly a lot more dangerous. A hurt Jack was a pissed Jack, and a pissed Jack was nothing to mess with.

Briggs, knew Jack had hurt his hand and tried to take advantage of it, attacking Jack's right side, throwing lefts to the body and at his head.

Jack fended off most of the blows and followed with a few lefts of his own, but a few of Briggs shots had connected, opening a gash above Jack's right eye.

Mac looked at Boxer, "We should do something, Jack's hurt, this isn't a fair fight."

Boxer grinned, "You're right Mac, it isn't fair, just give him a bit, Jack's still figuring Briggs out."

Mac shook his head, "Stubborn and stupid must be contagious, I can't believe you're just going to watch."

Box leaned forward to look at Mac. "This has been a long time coming, Jack would never forgive us if we jumped in, even if he does gets his ass kicked." He pointed a finger at Mac, "Which ain't gonna happen." He said matter of factly.

Coop, didn't seem as confident in Jack's abilities as Boxer, but added, "Besides, he's just getting warmed up." putting up a good front, as the two men continued to exchange punches.

Just as Mac was about to ignore the advice of the two operators and put a stop to the fight, Jack stepped back away from Briggs and held his left hand up pausing the action. "Briggs, I just want to give you fair warning, I'm gonna put you in the hospital."

Briggs laughed and spat, "Good fuckin luck with that, you're finished, got a busted hand, I'm gonna finish breaking the rest of that arm for ya."

Jack held his hand up and pointed at Briggs. "I've given you fair warning, whatever happens from now on, is on you, and I swear to God, if you so much as mention my name to the MP's, what I'm about to do to you will feel like a massage, you understand?"

The look on Jack's face was one Mac hoped to never see again, the man he was watching wasn't the same man he'd considered to be his friend, this man was a killer pure and simple.

Jack was looking at Briggs like he could see right through him, stepping forward with both fists clenched, coming within reach of Briggs.

"Screw you Dalton!" Brigg's took a swing toward Jack's ribs, instead of trying to side step or step back out of the way, Jack moved forward into the punch trapping Briggs arm against his side, quickly throwing an elbow that connected with the man's head. Briggs' arm still trapped at his side, Jack grabbed Briggs wrist with both hands, raising the bigger man's arm and spinning in one fluid move, Jack didn't stop with the simple wrist lock, instead he added more pressure snapping the man's wrist and thumb, driving him to his knees.

Jack stood with Briggs wrist still in an iron grip, and drove his knee into Briggs face, blood ran freely from the bigger man's broken nose and split lip.

He lifted Briggs up using the wrist lock as leverage to effectively steer the bigger man. Once Briggs was standing, Jack let go and immediately kicked Briggs in the knee, once again driving the man to the ground. Briggs howled in pain as Jack threw another knee into the already bloody face.

Briggs swayed and tried to swing a left at Jack who sidestepped and brought an elbow down onto the top of Briggs helmet.

Coop and Box both cringed at the move, as if they were the ones that had been hit. "Damn, boss' not messing around anymore." Coop shared a concerned looked with Boxer, as Mac stood frozen in place, transfixed on the scene before him.

Mac was no stranger to violence, he'd seen what people could do to each other in the name of war, but this was different, this was almost barbaric, it didn't seem real, like he was watching a movie.

Boxer pursed his lips, "We'll let it go for a bit longer, if it looks like he's gonna kill him, we'll put a stop to it."

Boxer's comment brought Mac out of the spell he was under. He noticed for the first time the concerned looks on the faces of the two operators and turned his attention back to Jack, equally concerned but not for Briggs, but for Jack, Briggs may have lost but Jack wasn't going to come out of this unscathed.

Jack walked around behind Briggs, picking up the dazed man's left arm again holding him in a wrist lock effectively controlling downed man as if he were a puppet. Jack put his hand on Brigg's right shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I lied when I said we were even for Slappy's." Jack stood up planting a knee in Briggs' back and pulled the arm he still held by the wrist back so fast everyone heard the audible snap of bones breaking followed by a viscous leg sweep that connected with Briggs exposed ribs. He was about to deliver another crushing blow when Boxer yelled and stepped forward. "Jack! He's had enough!"

Jack stopped mid swing and shoved Briggs arm down in disgust, and shoved Briggs over onto his side.

Jack walked toward Mac, who was standing mouth agape at what he'd just witnessed. Without uttering a single word, Jack simply grabbed his vest and threw it on, along with the rest of his gear, slinging the rifle and adjusting the strap with his left hand. Coop handed Jack the thigh holster and pistol.

Finally finding his voice, Jack looked at Coop with a grimace as he tried to push the buckles together. "Gimme a hand getting this thing strapped, my wrist is toast.

Coop did as requested.

Fully geared up, with the exception of the remnants of the fight, he looked like he'd just stepped off the chopper.

Jack stalked around to Briggs' front and crouched in his line of sight, rifle resting across his lap. Briggs had somewhat gotten himself into a seated position and was cradling his arm against his side as a string of blood and saliva ran off his chin.

Jack pulled the slide back on his rifle ejecting a round, gritting his teeth as he caught it in mid air. He held it up in front of Briggs face. "Briggs, don't think there's a place on this earth you can hide from me if you ever decide to threaten one of my guys again, or you'll never see it comin. Jack stood up and dropped the live round in Briggs lap. Briggs' chin dropped to his chest. Jack reached out and shoved him, causing the injured man to fall over once more.

Jack, having finished with the man, walked away coming to a stop in front of Box and Coop and thumbed over his shoulder, "Take that piece of shit to the infirmary and drop him off."

Coop and Box stepped around Jack and helped Briggs to his feet, neither one being too gentle with their assistance.

As they passed half supporting the dazed soldier, Coop reached down and collected Briggs gear. "Shoulda shed all your gear man, boss doesn't like cheaters, leaving your helmet and gloves on was a dick move dude." Coop looked at Mac and winked before talking to the stunned Briggs. "And you should've known better than to threaten our baby brother man, probably would have saved you a couple of months of rehab."

"Coop's right, you're lucky Jack didn't kill you, if I were you, I'd put in for a transfer as soon as you get out of the hospital, or Jack's not the only one you'll have to worry about." Boxer added as they continued toward the infirmary.

Jack sat on the shooting bench right arm tight against his side. Mac stepped forward and crouched so he could look Jack in the eye. "Are you ok?" He asked nervously.

Jack's head bobbed as he let out a short laugh followed by a grimace. "Not really, think I did a number on my wrist. Busted my hand on that asshole's head, my ribs weren't cracked before, I'm pretty sure they are now." He stood up taking a second before slowly walking away from the range. "And I'm freaking starving man, haven't eaten since before we left." He looked sideways at Mac squinting and smiling, trying to ease some of the fear he saw in the younger man's eyes.

Mac, shook off the uneasiness he felt toward Jack, the other Jack. the one that had so effectively broken a man. He shoved those images to the back of his mind and concentrated on his Jack, the one that was hurt and bleeding, the one that he called friend.

Jack threw his left arm around Mac's shoulder, "Come on, I'll buy you dinner."

"What about your wrist?" Mac ducked out of the hold, trying to get a better look at the older man.

"I'll get it looked at after we eat, don't want to be in there with Briggs." Jack looked toward the helipad and watched Coop and Box in the distance, half dragging, half carrying Briggs to the infirmary.

Mac shrugged, finally giving up on trying to convince Jack to take care of his injury, for now. "Alright, dinner first but you might want to stop by the barracks before we go."

At Jack's confused look, Mac pointed toward Jack's face. "I don't think anyone wants to watch you bleed while they eat, you got a pretty good cut above your eye there."

Jack reached up to touch the cut when Mac slapped his hand away. "Don't touch it, your hands are filthy."

The corner of Jack's mouth turned up, a far-off look in his eyes, "You have no idea."

0-0-0

By the time they'd reached the barracks, Jack's wrist and hand were throbbing to the rhythm of his heart beat. Mac stepped up and opened the door for Jack to enter. "You need any help with your gear?"

Jack walked up the steps, holding his arm at chest level. "Nah, I'm just gonna drop this stuff, grab a new shirt and clean up a bit."

Mac followed Jack inside and down the narrow hallway stopping at his own room. "Holler if you need help," he looked at the state of his own attire before stepping in. "Hey Jack!" He yelled as he started to remove his gear.

"Yeah?" Jack yelled from his own room.

"Maybe you should go to the infirmary before dinner." Mac pulled his shirt over his head and threw it in the hamper he'd made.

"Dude, give it a rest, I'll go after chow."

Mac knew Jack wasn't looking forward to having his wrist examined again and while it was true they hadn't had a chance to eat in quite a while, Mac suspected Jack was using Briggs as an excuse to delay the inevitable. "If you need surgery on your wrist again, they won't do it if you've eaten recently."

Jack had managed to remove his own shirt, standing in front of the mirror he held up his right arm, turning sideways to get a look at his side in the mirror. "Yeah, so, what's your point?"

Mac pulled a clean black t-shirt out of his foot locker and slipped it over his head. "Well, if the bones need to be set, the sooner the better, you know that much."

Jack finished with his self assessment, he figured by the way it felt he had one maybe two cracked ribs. He pulled a wet wipe out of the container that sat on top of an old ammo can and began to wipe the blood and grime off of his face. "Yeah, I know, but they're probably pretty busy right now, I imagine they brought at least some of those wounded here."

He grabbed a Dallas Cowboys shirt off of the pile he'd designated as 'mostly clean' and held it up, giving it a sniff. "Besides, I want to give them a chance to get Briggs squared away so's we don't end up waiting in the lobby together, know what I mean?" Deciding the shirt was clean, Jack gingerly ran his right hand through the sleeve.

Mac ran a hand through his hair, not bothering with the small mirror on the wall. Deciding he was cleaned up enough to be Jack's escort he stepped into the hall. "Right, I doubt they'll make him wait, you did a pretty good number on him."

Jack managed to get the t-shirt on, not bothering to tuck it in. "Yeah, I might have gotten a little carried away." He admitted, as he stepped into the hall and started toward the door.

Mac decided to change tactics as he walked in front of Jack towards the door. "Well, you know you can't wait too long, we've established that. But, if you eat now and they decide you need surgery, they'll just keep you there until they think all that food is digested." Mac held the door open following Jack outside, "I could go into all the science behind the human digestive system..."

Jack held up his hand and squinted in disgust. "Dude, don't, I don't need to know how my food ends up, well, ends up being, you know."

Mac smiled, "My point is, I imagine if you eat dinner now, before going to the infirmary, you're probably going to have to spend at least an extra day there."

Jack contemplated what Mac had said and sighed, dropping his head in defeat. "Fine, I'll go see the damn doc," he looked up annoyed. "You happy now?"

Mac grinned, "Actually, yes Jack, I am." He admitted truthfully, as Doctor Morgan's words echoed in his head, "All you have to do is know how they think."

Jack looked at Mac taking in his appearance for the first time. "Probably a good thing I go now anyways instead of heading to the mess."

Mac's brow furrowed, adding concussion to the possible list of injuries. "I thought we just agreed on that."

The corner of Jack's mouth turned up. "Yeah, but my reason is better. There's no way I'm going to dinner with you while you're wearing that shirt."

Mac looked down at his shirt, pulling at the hem to get a better look and realized he'd grabbed one of the shirts Coop had given him for Christmas. He could feel the heat rise in his face as he looked around making sure no one had seen him yet.

Jack laughed holding his side, "I swear Mac, I've already been in one fight today, you wear that in the mess, and you're on your own man, I mean come on, you think nobody will give you shit if you go walking around the base with DORK plastered across your chest?"

"Shut up Jack." There was no malice in his voice as he turned to go back to the barracks.

"Oh no you don't." Jack grabbed his arm turning him back in the direction of the infirmary. "You wanted to go to the infirmary, we're going to the infirmary."

Jack let go of Mac's arm, "Come on your dorkness, let's get this over with so I can go get something to eat and you can go change." Jack shook his head, "Can't take you anywhere dude."

Mac crossed his arms trying to conceal the large white letters. The move only made Jack laugh more, cringing and holding his side as they kept walking.

0-0-0

Jack sat in the barracks ready room, that acted as part living room, game room, team briefing room and today, much to his displeasure, his office. He sat sideways in the plastic lounge chair, leg hanging over the arm rest, a large clip board in his lap, struggling to write his report on the last mission.

Jack reached in his pocket, pulling out the bottle of pain pills Doc Morgan had prescribed and growled in frustration as he tried to open the bottle.

The cast Doctor Morgan had put him in covered not only his wrist and forearm, it encompassed his ring and pinky finger as well, making writing and more recently manipulating the pill bottle a serious challenge.

Finally successful, he shook two pills out and popped them in his mouth, washing them down with water from the camelback that Mac had strategically place on the back of his chair.

Jack tried to flex his fingers as he studied the cast. Dr. Morgan hadn't bought the open ended explanation that Jack had gotten a boxer's fracture and re injured his newly repaired wrist by "running around the country side, shooting bad guys," as Jack had put it. Luckily for Jack, Morgan hadn't pressed the issue even after he had set the break and applied the cast, casually mentioning a Sergeant that had been dropped on the front steps of the infirmary in pretty bad shape by a couple of soldiers that looked suspiciously like Jack's men.

Jack smiled as he recalled, what the Doc had said while he was finishing stitching the cut over Jack's eye, "Apparently, I need to stock up on cast materials and sutures if you can break your hand and crack your ribs, just running around the countryside. And that sergeant has a number of broken bones from falling off a truck? You boys are gonna have to be a little more careful around here." He had joked. Jack knew Morgan had put two and two together, but Jack wasn't going to admit to anything, not even to the former Delta turned doctor. "Must have been a very angry truck." Was all he had said.

Jack's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, not bothering to get up, he yelled, "Enter!"

The Major that was the liaison between the spec ops and regular army in the TOC stepped in, removing his cover. The greying man looked around the room, shaking his head at the maps, posters and general clutter that Jack and his boys had collected, turning the makeshift building into something that looked more like it belonged on a college campus rather than a forward operating base.

Jack remained seated and smiled at the Major, "Welcome to our humble abode, I'd offer you a beer but we're fresh out." He joked, knowing the Major had a stash of beer in his own hooch.

As he passed, the major swiped his fingers across the top of the makeshift table, looking around as if he was conducting an inspection. "Love what you've done with the place Jack, you're lucky Delta took you bunch of misfits, you'd never make it in the regular Army."

Jack laughed and waved at the chair next to him. "You're right, all them damn regulations and all, we'd probably be peeling potatoes and scrubbing latrines until we were old and gray." Jack motioned to the chair beside him. "Have a seat, take a load off Sir, you can watch me try to fill these damn reports out." Jack held his cast up. "My writing was terrible before, wait till they get a load of it now."

The Major shook his head, "Can't stay long, have a briefing to get to, just wanted to stop by and give you this." He pulled a sheet of legal sized paper out of his satchel and handed it to Jack. "Where's the rest of the bunch?" He stepped back to look down the hall.

Jack's brow furrowed, curious as to what was on the sheet. "They're out for a run, should be back in an hour or so." He said distractedly as he mentally translated the writing on the paper, realizing it was the Afghan equivalent of a wanted poster.

"You do know, we're supposed to be winning the hearts and minds of these people Jack, I don't think this is exactly what the Army had in mind." The Major pointed to the poster.

Jack looked at the photo in the center of the writing, it was a picture of him pointing his weapon toward the camera and flipping off the photographer, Mac standing beside him, concerned look on his face. "Yeah, well the kid that took this picture..." Jack flipped the sheet around pointing to the picture as he held it. "Was part of that bunch that was planting IED's along 71, before we blew them up with their own bomb." Jack held the poster out toward the Major intending on giving it back. "Kid's lucky I didn't put a round through his melon. Where'd you get this?"

The major waved his hand, "Keep it, this is just one of God knows how many that are out there, that little village you boys were watching a few days ago... they're plastered all over the place, Rangers raided it after we got the road cleared. Nice work by the way, those IED's were right where you said they'd be."

Jack studied the poster, "Thanks, too bad we didn't know about the two that hit Seagrave and his boys. Fifty thousand?" He looked up at the Major, "What's that in U.S. currency?"

The major rocked back on his heels, eyebrows raised, "That is U.S. currency Jack," He pointed at the description on the bottom of the poster. "And it's fifty thousand for each of you." He looked at his watch, "I have to go, just thought you'd like to know there's a price on your head, you get that cast off and get back out there, you better watch your ass, the bad guys know who you two are now, or at least what you look like anyway."

Jack smiled and slowly eased himself out of the chair. "I'll keep that in mind."

The Major stopped at the door and turned, "I don't know what went down exactly but I've got a sergeant in the infirmary says he fell off a truck," he pointed at Jack's cast. "By the way your moving, that cast, and those stitches, you wouldn't happen to know what happened would you?"

Jack lifted the cast, "Nah, got this a while back, and as for the rest," he shrugged, "Let's just say it was a little lesson on manners that got a bit outa hand."

The Major smiled, pushed the door open and shook his head as he left. "Goddamn bunch of cowboys."

Jack held the paper up, studying the image and the writing on the wanted poster as the door closed.

He walked over to the wall and pulled one of Mac's stick pins from the map, holding the paper up he pinned it to the wall. "Bring it on you bastards, I ain't goin nowhere." He rapped the cast against the photo before heading back to the chair. "Damn Army paperwork's gonna kill me before any of you sorry bastards can get the chance anyway."

-End-

A/N: Well, there it is, I hope you enjoyed it. I think I was a bit angry when I wrote the fight scene. Nothing like using fictional characters to take out a bit of aggression, it's kind of therapeutic. ;-)

Thanks to everyone that took the time to review and send helpful tips, I really appreciate it. Oh, and please feel free to point out any errors, I can still go back and edit for any newcomers that happen along.

Last but not least, For all you prospective writers out there, bite the bullet, take a chance and post. We need more fic to pass the summer. The group of people in this fandom are some of the nicest most helpful I've come across, nothing to be intimidated by, they're great.

-Gib-