Western Ostmark November 13th, 1945

It had not taken long for the sudden loss of a combat Neuroi to be noted. Now the loss of a combat form was not odd by any means in times of war. But one just...ceasing to exist without data on why was not something the collective mind that made up the Neuroi had ever encountered. Thus "word" was sent through the network of hives, a test was to be carried out to see if this...unexistance could be recreated again, and perhaps used to the advantage of the Neuroi...

...

Leutnant Jocelyn Müncheberg kept her eyes rolling in their sockets as she took the last witch spot in the four wing formation. With the allied push coming up from Romanga, the country the Neurou had first invaded and conquered almost six years prior was finally being retaken. Even through her flying gloves she could feel her grip tighten like a vice around the FG-42 she carried, she had blood in Ostmark, and she would repay the Neuroi for their transgressions here.

"Able-4, do you see anything"? she heard the voice of her CO, Lori Henderson ask. She was older then Jocelyn, but only by a hair at six months, the 20 year old witch had flown in the Pacific theater, and been decorated for her service during the Battle of Midway in June of 1942, when she'd still been making a name for herself pot shoting Neuroi drones, Henderson had lead the assault on one of the Neuroi's Pacific carrier types, and been wounded in the process, she held nothing but the upmost respect for her for that reason alone.

"Nothing yet Ma'am." she responded in a service worthy neutral tone. The marine which flashed her a thumbs up without looking back, her other arm keeping her own gun level, as her sturdy stark white tail fluttered in the wind, a dear she'd been told upon asking about it, her own familiar was nothing so special, a simple Badger with it's striped grey and white wagger.

Still it was better then-She broke the thought as a blur from above seemed to draw her eye towards it, a small formation of four Neuroi drones, screaming towards them! "So much for this training flight" she heard Henderson laugh as she rolled out of the formation and took aim at the closet Neuroi before opening fire. The other two witches, new recruits they'd been taking on a training flight, also leapt into action, avoiding the Neuroi and firing, following Henderson's lead.

The four Neuroi broke out of their formation, and each went after a different witch. Hefting her FG-42 up, Jocelyn rolled onto her stomach and fired at the alien on her tail, a burst of yellow tracers cut the air next to the orb of death, and she cursed under breath at her aim. Going in low, she skimmed the tree tops, the evergreen's branches swaying as she moved passed them, and as the Neuroi gave chase.

She dodged left as a beam of red hot death cut into the trees mere inches from her Striker units, too close for comfort she thought firing a burst over her shoulder in return. The Neuroi darted to avoid the bullets but took it pinging off it's dark hide none the less, sparking and taking a chunk out of it's body. The Neuroi meanwhile received it's orders in an instant, filled in on the extent of it's new mission, charging up to gain altitude on her, she used this opening to turn away, hoping to regroup with the other witches, but from it's higher flight, the the monster changed it's course, diving like a bat from hell downwards at her, charging it's laser as it's core grew red hot, she turned to fire, catching sight of the black dart and raised the rune covered magic shield all witches had, and her the harsh cry of a laser blast and the Neuroi striking it as a sound like running water and ripping paper caused her to black out...

...

Dispatching the drone in front of her with her BAR, Henderson turned her head and watched another Neuroi kamikaze into Müncheberg's shield in a large flash. The next moment, she was...gone. Even if she'd been struck head on without her defenses up, there would have been wreckage, or a body, but it seemed as though the Karlslander had just...ceased to exist all at once.

"Ma'am...what happened to lieutenant Müncheberg"? with a hint of fear in her voice one of the newbie witches asked. Sadly, for herself and the newbie, Henderson knew she didn't have an answer for that, she'd lost her share of wingmen before, but this was...different. The other two witches looked to her for answers that she didn't have, instead she reported "Able flight, returning to base, one witch...lost." and turned, heading for home and a lot of questions.

Havana, Republic of Cuba, April 14th 202-

The small rented three room apartment in one of Havana's wealthier districts (Which wasn't saying much) was never empty, rented back to back every few months by tourists. The landlord didn't care if it seemed too good to be true, because it was. The "Tourist's" passports may have said they came from the United States, and that was true, you couldn't hide the fact from most Cubans, although all of them really came from Langley, the CIA had taken the lifting of the embargo rather well, and spent little time embedding agents in one of the last communist nations on Earth.

Knocking to the opening tune of the National Anthem, five raps in quick succession, and the lock and large deadbolt were unlocked and slid to allow Lewis Puller, dressed in standard tourism fair, to enter. Feeling the cool rush of an AC, a feature they'd been forced to add out of pocket because the landlord refused, for a moment, Puller forgot his worries in the chill. Next to the door in the small cooking space, a pale black haired man was poised with a small handgun, a Russian Makarov likely older then he was, a suppressor screwed into the front. He eyed the man brandishing it at the ready, held in a curved arm pointing towards the ceiling, but ready to be brought down to fire at a moments notice at him, who replied "No one ever died being too careful."

Lewis laughed "No more James Bond movies for you George, giving you too many of those damn one liners." George smiled holstering the soviet arm at his side "Hey now, what do yo take me for? An uncultured savage? I read the books man."

As if that made it any better.

Ignoring George, he walked over to the small fridge, and grasped his hand around a bottle of water, slowly drinking away it's contents in seconds and cursing the "Damn humidity" aloud. Removing his camera from his neck, he placed it down next to the laptop George had sitting in front of him. George raised and eyebrow "Whats this"?

"Pics of some uniform out for a drive. Do me a favor and run his plates, someone with stars on their shoulder leaving Havana is always news Langley wants to hear." He knew of course, it'd go througho the CIA station chief at the US embassy first before going further up the chain, but the myth of the all knowing Langley was something all agents made use of.

The shorter man smiled "You Got it. I'll run the plates through our list of contacts. Even if no one knows anything, we can always bribe the information out of someone." Puller nodded with a smile at the word "Aye men to that" and went to cool off in the AC further before he too got to work.

April 18th, San Antonio de los Baños airbase, Republic of Cuba

Major Felix Álvarez shielded his face from the sun's powerful rays as he left the main building the 2661 Squadron used on base. As the senior man in the air, he was the oldest of the pilots, when he'd first started flying, they had still had the MiG-23ML as their top aircraft, and the Falcrum he flew now was a thing of dreams and bad science fiction. The fact the Air Force now held almost 30 of them in it's grip made him smile at such progress.

But today he had other things to do then layment on old memories. The entire wing had been ordered to one of the hangars, some kind of new weapon demonstration or something to that effect. He'd learned to smile and nod when any higher up ordered these sort of meetings, the faster they ended, the faster he could be back to his men and keeping their planes airworthy.

The first thing that tipped him to this not being a normal meeting, was the presence of armed guards outside the Hangar, what looked like an entire platoon, and not regular soldiers either, dressed in green uniforms with brown tiger like stripes,many armed wit short AK-74U carbines or RPK-74 light machineguns. Special Forces by the looks of them.

They moved over allowing him to enter, gazes like tigers to match their stripes. Inside, almost a dozen pilots and staff officers were grouped together in a U around a MIG-29, but this aircraft was...different. The Normal metal skin was now dark black with a hexigon pattern set over it, the cockpit tinted red, and the body being...smother, beneath the cockpit, was a large cylinder with a red orb at the end.

He was speechless as was everyone else, be it for a different reason. This was one of his aircraft, and he had at no point authorized this...whatever this was! He looked about, and sure enough one man, dressed in a DGI uniform with a peaked cap, a small smirk on his face. Felix felt his blood boil "What have you done to my planes"? he accused pointing a finger at the man, who only smiled.

"Nothing you would not approve of Senior" he said in a happy little voice, keeping the set of words between the two of them.

"This aircraft is now one of the most advanced combat platforms on the planet, it can go toe to toe with anything anyone has."

Felix was about to argue once more, when the man smiled again "Perhaps i should show you. Who is your best pilot? My aircraft vs his in a mock duel, no ground based or airborne radar, just plane to plane to prove my point." Felix was a calm man, but he let his anger get the better of him, and nodded telling him he was the most experienced pilot in the squadron. "Good then, let me give you demonstration then".

The ground crewmen towed the Major's fighter out onto the tarmac, he only objected when he noticed them loading two R-27 air to air missiles. But the DGI man spoke up "My aircraft has counter measures, let me show you how effective they are." He nodded telling himself he wouldn't use them for any reason no matter what the man wanted. "Who will fly the other plane"? and watched the DGI man grin wider.

"It will fly itself".

He laughed at the man, "It isn't a drone, no matter how amazing you think your little "improvements are." You can't just-" he ate his words as the dark skinned jet slowly taxied itself out onto the runway, the ground crew keeping their own distance from the strange sight. He walked inside, unnerved to no end, and changed into the baggy dark lime colored flight suit all pilots wore, and carried his helmet back out with him, under arm.

Stepping up the ladder into his MiG's cockpit, going through his pre flight, he couldn't help stealing a glimpse of the apparent pilotless aircraft, still as a tree trunk on the runway beside him. Checking in with the tower and pacing his oxgen mask over his mouth. He looked to the flight officer, near the edge of the runway, who nodded at him, he return it with a salute and faced forwards, turning on the plane's twin engines. He waited for the signal to take off, taking on last look at his opponent before he heard his radio static out the go signal.

He pushed the stick back as the MiG "flew" down the runway, the soviet style plates that covered it to make repairs easier creaked underneath his wheels as his plane built up speed like a fist flying out towards an enemy. As the wheels left the ground, Felix pulled sharply, banking away to the left to gain distance from the other aircraft, watching the cleared landscape and houses near the base zoom by, he leveled the aircraft and nosed her up to gain some altitude for the coming duel.

Getting her up a 2000 feet amongst some low cloud cover, the Major began his hunt. The MiG-29 was a soviet workhorses in the closing days of the cold war, built to go toe to toe with the west's Tornados and US Airforce's F-16s and 15s,with advantages and disadvantages over those fighters. But in a battle against an aircraft of the same specks, it came down not to advantages in one field or another, but skill of the pilot.

He would have no radar help, only the visual cues of the two round cameras god had given him built into his skull to find his prey. He looked around, the soft hum of the engine the only sound in the cockpit besides the steady hiss of his breathing inside the oxgen mask. The clean blue all around was empty it seemed as he swept it with his eyes. Clean as window,

His let out a breath too soon, as he heard his plane chime out, the soft beeping of a lock on by an enemy aircraft! He pulled the stick left and felt the aircraft tilt wing over wing as it spun away and the black jet zoomed by. He felt his knuckles sweat underneath his gloves as he clenched the stick tightly in defeat and heard his radio buzz with the voice of the DGI man.

"So then, do you see now what i was talking about"? he could read the sneer on the man's lips from his voice alone, and he hated it. But if he could understand Felix's anger, he ignored it as he went on "So Major, why don't you let me show your the aircraft's countermeasures well your up there? Fire on her"

"What? This is an exercise, not combat! I will not have one of my planes scrapped to make a point! I'm landing now." he said firmly. But the voice on the other end didn't agree.

"Well then Major, i'll have my aircraft make you fight then." he said as the plane turned around, black against the blue horizon and point it's nose towards him. It moved towards attack speed, slowing down as if to..." He heard the crack of it's guns before he could finish his thought. The roar of the 30mm auto cannon sounded like the crackle of a fire in the night air from how far off it was, but the cuts in the air that passed his cockpit were not signs of comfort.

"Son of a whore..." he cursed under his breath as he thumbed the fire control for the two R-27s underneath his wings and turned on the jet's internal radar, he readied both the stubby Infrared homing missiles for light, and watched the other MiG ark in a wide turn, and waited for chime. He lined up the cockpit crosshairs with it, and watched the lime green lock sign flash over it's body, by reflex he pulled the trigger, and watched on of the R-27s sail off hos wing towards it, leaving a cloudy contrail in the sky behind it.

It rocketed towards the aircraft, matching the movements it made. It killed Felix to destroy one of the precious MiGs, but it was him or it. At the last moment, as the missile seemed to close in, he watched a beam of red cut into the R-27, chopping it in two. It exploded harmlessly and the jet kept moving away, after a moment, going super sonic with a loud crack.

"What the hell..."

"I see you've seen the new countermeasures, are you impressed"? he heard the DGI man ask. He nodded and replied in a low voice "Yes...

Washington DC, United States, April 20th

The sky was dark over the nations capital, air traffic was always kept to a minimum for security reasons, the majority of aircraft overhead being small and armed, but even then from the ground eyes kept a watch for anything out of the norm. Tonight those eyes would finally be used. In a milisecond, the once clear sky above the capital had a new object in it.

The form of a young woman seemed to materialize from thin air, tumbling downwards towards the ground, just a few miles out of range of the dozen or so "Avenger" surface to air missile batteries that hidden around the DC area, served to protect the US capitol from harm. Of course, even if they'd had a further range, the Avenger system hadn't been built to take out a airborne target the size and shape of a young woman falling towards the city bellow...

Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland April 20th

Airman Eugene King yawned slightly from his seat inside the radar center at Andrews Airforce Base, his "scope" along with a dozen others was tasked with watching the skies over DC, and besides the occasional pilot veering off courses, the post was one of a routine rarely broken.

"Stare at the monitor. Report what you see" he said to himself for the third time into his four hour shift. He'd been stuck here for almost a year since graduating basic training at Lackland Airbase in Texas, his vision being just bellow the requirements for any airborne duties, leaving him stuck "on the ground here. In that time, nothing had ever gone any different, just an empty screen besides far off flights and F-16 fly overs, and government aircraft ever other minute.

So when he saw a small blip appear, tagged in red as Unknown he blinked once, then twice to see it clearly through the haze his mind was in. As he realized what he was seeing, another airman two seats down the line spoke up to the NCO who headed the radar section "Staff Sergeant Hiller, we have an unknown airborne contact inside DC airspace.

As the burley sergeant with a face a dark as an Oreo and a head the same shape rushed over, his eyes said it all.

This was for real.

"Airman King"! he pointed at Eugene "Get me control, we got one" he realized he was closet to the phone on the wall, and quickly dialed the number for the base's command center, and handed it to the man. He began speaking, telling them what he saw on the screen, and it dawned on King that things were about to get serious...

...

Jocelyn felt the air rippling the fabric of her jacket, and for a moment, wondered if she'd been wounded, being carried back to base in the arms of a comrade, but opening her eyes, she saw only the night sky and her body quickly falling fast towards the ground bellow her. Her eyes grew wide as she began to panic, her strikers were gun, as was her FG-42, likely lost in the fall, but what scared her more was the ground, or what she saw there.

Lights, a city. One that hadn't been there before, Ostmark was a ruin now after almost six years of war, what she saw seemed to say otherwise to that fact. Shaking her head as wind whipped by, she began chanting the magical matra in her head that would allow her to use her magic, in a moment, a blue rune covered shield appeared before her, she focused all her magic into it, the thin blue quickly bulking up. She aimed it towards the ground and hoped it might take the brunt of the damage.

Bracing herself as the ground grew closer, she could make out buildings and streets full of cars, even a large white pillar in the distance, Looking back down as she closed her eyes as she felt a force like a speeding train strike her. She blacked out, dazing awake some time latter, she felt her body cry out as she stood up, she was in some sort of ally, a dumbster and bags of trash nearby, with a low hum coming from a nearby doorway, a bit of light shining through it.

She pushed the door open with both hands, and felt her ears assaulted by loud strange music, voices that sounded like the ungodly spawn of a man and a radio, repeating the same words over and over, lights flashed in the middle of a large hall with people dressed in clothes she'd never seen, moving to the words and music. She couldn't understand what "harder, better, faster, stronger" meant, or why someone would put what sounded like a mixture of piano music and radio static behind it either.

She tried to get someone to listen to her, but the first man...boy more like it given his age, she tried to speak to, looked at her with wide eyes as she asked for help in a croaking voice, before speaking Britannian quickly and brushing her off. She didn't recognize many of the words he said, much of it some sort of slang, and moved on, pulling herself across the floor full of bodies, none of which were of help beside a few laughs at her bare legs and dazed look.

Pushing past them, and a crowd of people outside, and was blinded by the lights. Cars of every color and shape drove by on the street, people laughed in a line outside the building, holding small plastic things in their palms and clicking away at them, she felt as though she was seeing another world with so many differences. She walked away, carrying herself every step away from that place, to find some sort of help...

...

"Jackasses" Kurt Mannsly said to himself as he walked out of the bar, old friends "just wanting to chat" had talked him into going to. Old friends was a good word, High School assholes who he'd made the poor choice of friending on Facebook, and had taken this little meeting as a chance to mock him. Yes he couldn't tell them where he worked, no that didn't mean it was a shithole and he was embarrassed! They thought they were tough shit and he was still a quiet wallflower.

A bunch of assholes was what they were now. Sticking the key in his car, a small red A configured sedan he'd already put his first payment on. The key clicked and as he opened the door, he heard a voice croak out "Hilfe" NSA training hadn't taught him German, but two years in High School had given him enough idea of the language to know the world meant help.

He turned to find a woman in a black jacket, with shoulder length black hair, and large blue eyes full of fear, leaning against the fender of his car, her breath was slow. She looked like she had been through hell, or at least something akin to it. He took a small step towards her "Miss...are you..." but was cut off as she feel forwards, on instinct honed from his fair share of high school wrestling (today it seemed high school was really paying off) he caught her as she fell.

Checking her over, she didn't seem to be cut up or anything, just exhausted. She didn't need a doctor, just rest and maybe a hot meal, placing her in the back of his car, he guessed she could stay the night, he had the space, and she needed it more then he did.

Starting the engine and pulling into the light traffic of the DC nightlife, he hoped this wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.

...

Jocelyn's sleep was filled with nightmares of capture in a strange land. The Neuroi...did things to witches they caught and it was an unspoken rule that a witch would end her life before capture, and a dreamscape of darkness and cutting only made her toss and turn throughout the night in fear. Probess and proding alongside what felt almost...soft? And a horrid noise like a automobile's horn ringing in her ears.

Opening her eyes, it was dim, but not dark. Blue walls and...sheets? She was in a bed in what seemed to be...well a bedroom, she turned her head in an arc, finding the source of the noise, a box like clock with a display that was lit up like a neon sign, they had one that glowed like it in the base mess hall a ground crewman had installed, but this was different. Looking at it, she found half a dozen buttons in Britannian on the top, and decided the biggest one had to be the answer.

Pressing down on it seemed to silence the beeping, one problem solved, but the rest she didn't think would be as easy. Where was she? It wasn't a hospital, maybe a civilian's home? Perhaps the sights of last night were a dream and she'd crashed and been pulled to safely in the countryside. But the clock seemed to say otherwise, as did some other items in the room, a bedside lamp that seemed far too small with no plug, and flat black object, looking closer, it said SONY on the front near the bottom, some kind of...radio perhaps?

Sliding off the bed, she felt the cool wood floor on her soles, and headed towards the door, a standard wooden one, a sight for once in this place familiar. Turning the knob, she opened it with a low creak, cursing at herself for it, the sound was loud given the lack of anything else to mask it. Stepping into a decently sized hall she followed it towards a larger room, with a sofa and another of those odd radios.

The slight hiss of breath told her someone was asleep on the sofa. Creeping forwards, she caught a glimpse of a slumbering man. His hair was a light shade of blonde cut short, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. Looking over him, she let out a low breath, enough it seemed that he opened his eyes and looked into hers. Neither spoke for a minute, silently looking over the other until the man smiled slightly.

"I take it your going to want some breakfast"?

...

She ate a lot.

Well he supposed anyone would after the night she'd been through. A stack of toast, four eggs and three glasses of OJ to boot. All that would have taken him an entire morning to finish, she did it in less then 15 minutes flat. Her English however was less tested then her appetite it seemed, she could speak a decently enough, be it with an obvious German accent, but that and the question of what she wore weren't as easy to answer.

It was clearly a uniform, dark black with a bit of green trim, and the eagles on it made him think of Germany during WW2, he'd played enough Wolfenstein in Highschool to know a German uniform when he saw one. Although her legs were clad in dark stocking rather then pants. He found that the most vexing part of the puzzle that now sat before him.

"So...what happened last night? You were pretty roughed up."

She swallowed her food, before looking at him with wide eyes. "Mein...my unit was attacked by the Neuroi and in an instant, i was falling...then you found me." Her answer seemed to only create more questions. Maybe she was till shaken from the night before...or maybe she was crazy and had escaped from some home, although she seemed "normal" enough, well a little any way.

"So..your a soldier..."?

Her eyes widened and she nodded with a smile "A witch in fact." He had to hold back a laugh, she thought herself some kind of witch, now he wondered if it was too late to bet on her being crazy. Her earlier statement also brought questions "Neuroi"? he asked. She sipped half a glass of orange juice before she answered "Ya,Neuroi, bastard clipped me with a beam and then "poof" i am falling" she made a whoosh noise and aimed her open palmed hand towards the table.

He felt something click in his mind, but didn't know what it was. Still this Neuroi...

He felt that click again "What do these...err Neuroi look like"? he sounded a tad frantic, but he supposed she didn't notice since she didn't react. "Dark skin,like machines but...not, armed with lasers." she nodded staring at him, perhaps she thought he was crazy, given her tone she acted like these Neuroi were a normal thing.

He handed her a pen and a pad of paper, she looked over the blue plastic pen like it was magic, before quickly drawing a rough V like shape, all one wing, covered in hexgons. It was the same as the Harrier guncam film in everyway...

"I am...not where i thought, am i"? she asked, now realizing she may be somewhere other then Kansas. He nodded "No your not, but i think i know someone who may be able to help". He grabbed his car keys, and within six minutes, they were on the highway well above the posted speed limit heading towards Fort Meade.

Office of the President, Havana Cuba, April 21st

President Canel was a busy man. His day began as the sun rose, and the breakfast he had every morning had been worked from his stomach by mid day. Cuba was rift with problems left from the Castros. The poor in the streets begging from tourists, what little money she had being used to keep her government running, and only the slow trickle of imports starting to pump new blood into her veins.

So at 11:00 exactly when he heard the sound of yelling from outside his door, he stood up from behind his desk, and wondered if he should check on it, or let his staff handle it. He was gearing towards the latter when he heard the sound of a gunshot followed by three more and a scream, in an instant his door was swinging open, a man dressed in a dark soviet style uniform with a vest and a mask pulled over his face. In his grasp was a stubby AK-74u carbine.

Canal held up his hands to show he was unarmed and not a threat. The man slowly entered, followed by another dressed and armed the same. Behind them striding as if on parade was Colonel Hector Franco, a man Canal had never thought the type to lead a coup. The tall man smiled "Surprised i take it"? he asked. Canal stayed silent.

"So be it sir. I don't need you to speak. Hell i only need you to follow these two here, once this is all over you will understand why i'm doing all this."

Again, he stayed silent. But once outside, he gasped, a man in a suit lay dead against a wall in the outside office, in his grasp, a pistol. It was Mendo, the soft spoken man on his security detail who he had spoken to more then once about god, the small cross he wore around his neck was something they had in common. Now that had was in the past tense.

Franco did not smile now, his lips lowered "I'm sorry, we meant for no one to be hurt, your detail had been informed of our mission, but it seemed Mendo had a change of heart, a brave man to the end it seemed". He sighed. Canal felt not only loss for a friend, but anger, of course the DGI ran his bodyguard detail, they had planed for this! How else could they get into one of the most guarded places in Cuba with such ease?

The small band of commandos, two more stationed outside his office holding his staff at bay with their carbines, lead him towards the roof, the few uniformed guards he saw only lowered their heads as they passed by. Up a fight of stairs and on the roof, he heard the soft mummur of rottor blades, and spotted the shape of an Army MI-17 come into view.

The sound was deafening, and one of the commandos handed with a set of ear plugs, from they way they stood, it appeared they already wore their own. As the chopper touched down a door on its side slide open and a man inside waved them towards it, one of the commandos patted his back, he nodded bending over and letting the man guide him inside the aircraft, as the last black clad soldier climbed aboard, a crewman closed the door behind him and the aircraft took off again.

Inside, with the rotors noise making the craft seem to shake, Canal shouted over them at Hector "What do you wish to acomplish through all this?

He smiled wide, like a cat with a blind mouse before it "Sir, i wish to save Cuba" he did not go further, and he did not need to. For the rest of the ride, the now former president of the Republic of Cuba, was silent.

Rosario Air Base,Neue Karlsland, November 14th, 1945

The sheets ruffled as she reached for the ringing phone in the darkness, her hair a mess of her normal bob. Taking it in hand and sitting upright, Ursula Hartmann heard the voice on the other end, a story that sounded like it couldn't be true, but the enemy they fought had surprised them before, she nodded saying she was on her way, and put the phone down. Next to her in the dark room, a young man yawned "What was that about"?

She sighed putting on her glasses by the nightstand to look at Peter von Luck, her fiancé. The young man locked his dark eyes with hers as she answered him. "We're going to Ostmark."