#AND I SAW LIZZIE IN THERE. woah...i spoke to her like Today... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honey-hippie-harper · 3 years

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Little Nightmare Took a Gun...

ADSFGHSDFGHAJ OKAY, FIRST OF ALL THIS IS A GIFT FOR @chiyuki-hiro BC I SAW @healing-winston-pratt AND OMG, HAPPY BIRTHDAY :’) <3

Just wanted to do something for you :’). I hope you have a GREAT day today! <3 :’) and I know you like Winston, so I figured that...yeah.

I hope you like this <3.

It was mildly based on “Maps” by the Fun Home musical. Happy birthday, again <3 (eat a lot of cake, or whatever thing like to eat during your birthday, and always remember to have fun afsghja <3)

Little Nightmare Took a Gun...

“Captain Chromium must die.”

“Say what?”

“He must die.” While Little Jean...Nova, yes. Little Nova (Jean was a no-no. She didn’t like Jean. She had never liked Jean. If she did, she would’ve told him), spoke, Ingrid was peeling a pineapple, which was yellow, yellow, very yellow. Almost too yellow. It probably tasted like garbage because all the bright fruits had something bad in them.

Winston had something personal going on against that particular pineapple. Threatening him by saying today they would share a pineapple for dinner was one thing, but keeping their word was another.

He was going to call that pineapple Phineas.

Phineas the Pineapple. Yes.

Why were they called pineapples, anyway?

They didn’t look like apples at all.

Weird.

Ingrid kept on peeling the pineapple, using a knife, not staring at Little Nova for a second. She didn’t seem interested. But, again, Ingrid never seemed interested in anything at all, besides her own thing, like...slashing, and cutting and making boom-boom sounds.

Ingrid could create explosions at will, which was a power as pretty as her personality.

Boom-boom.

Kaboom.

That’s why nobody liked her.

Kaboom.

It’s not that the others were interested, either. In fact, Phobia wasn’t even here, because they liked to be out there, scaring people to death, or talking to Ace, because Phobia was nothing but a dirty, dirty, noisy bootlicker, who was made of smoke. Like the smoke from a chimney. Though, they more likely weren’t smoke from a chimney, because if they were, they would be made of bricks.

Ingrid kept on peeling Phineas the Pineapple. Its skin was falling off.

Poor Phineas the Pineapple.

Maybe it had a family, back at home. Maybe it had a wife and two daughters, and one of the daughters was a baby. Maybe it had been the one who had made Ace Anarchy’s helmet, and Ingrid was peeling its skin off. Phineas the Pineapple was dying, and maybe it had an abusive brother back at home who used it as a punching bag, waiting for it to come back so he could abuse him again.

Poor, poor Phineas the Pineapple.

Maybe it had a life.

But Ingrid didn’t care about that, did she?

No, she didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

“I think pretty much everyone here agrees on that. I was asking you why are you bringing that up, if I wasn’t clear enough.” She said, and Little Nova flinched.

She was so little. So tiny and so very small. She didn’t look her age at all.

Maybe it was only the fact she was surrounded by old people, in a meeting she had called in for.

They were gathered in Leroy’s wagon, and Leroy was old, and had a lot of scars, and had no brows and his wagon smelled better than Winston’s but worse than Honey’s, who was also old and was laying on the pillow mountain Leroy used as his bed every night, only to complain about having backache in the morning, like the old man he was.

Honey never complained about having backache, but she was always in pain, and her face often looked like a racoon, with all that black liquid running down her cheeks.

Leroy was drinking something from a bottle, while Honey played a boring game in a cellphone they kept in the tunnels. Little Nova had stolen it from someone and it was full of cat pictures. Pictures of very ugly cats, to Winston’s taste. Yuck.

“I mean now. Captain Chromium must die now.”

Captain Chromium must die.

Like that creepy song.

That creepy old song Winston hated.

Lizzie Borden took an axe…

“Now? As in: At this very moment?” Ingrid stopped murdering Phineas the Pineapple for a second and, nonchalantly, cracked her neck by placing one hand at the side of her head, and the hand she had the knife on by her chin. “Do you expect us to break into his house and just..?”

“No.” Little Nova cut her off. She was sitting in the center of the wagon, cross-legged. If she moved her hand a little, she would’ve touched Honey, because the space was limited.

It was like living inside of a cocoon, but less fun, Winston supposed.

At least caterpillars knew they would be pretty when they managed to escape the cocoon.

No.

At least they had the chance to escape the cocoon at some point.

“What I mean, in case I wasn’t being clear…”

“You weren’t.”

“We should start putting the plan together…”

Lizzie Borden took an axe…

“Revenge shouldn’t be denied. It’s their fault my parents are gone. It’s their fault Evie is gone. It’s their fault we’re trapped down here. Like sewer rats...”

And gave her mother forty whacks…

“And you should just let me do that. I’m old enough. I’m ready to do it…It’s what I’ve been raised for, isn’t it?...”

When she realized what she had done…

“All my life, you’ve been preparing me for this. To avenge them. To avenge us. To avenge Ace. My uncle. I’ve been training the majority of my life. Why can’t you just let me get this over with already?”

“Do you have any idea of what are you supposed to do, Nightmare? Do you have the faintest idea of what it takes?”

“Yes.”

She gave her father forty-one.

Little Nova.

Oh, Little Nova. Dearest Little Nova.

Nightmare.

Dearest Little Nightmare, which she liked more than Jean but hated more than Nova.

But Little Nightmare was okay.

If it wasn’t, she would’ve told him. He had taught her that. He had taught her to let people know when she was uncomfortable. Because they were friends.

They were friends.

They were.

Right?

She held Ingrid’s gaze, fiercely, though Winston could see her knuckles shaking, as if she were very cold.

In retrospect, maybe she was cold, and it was pretty shitty of them to have her here without a blanket, because she was a child who happened to be cold. Hence, she needed a blanket.

Why wasn’t anybody bringing a blanket for her?

Like, Winston would’ve done it, but he didn’t know where Leroy kept the blankets, and if he tried to look for them, then they would scream at him and he didn’t want to be screamed at today, because that was rude and rude people put Winston in a bad mood, which was rude too.

Putting people in a bad mood was rude.

Little Nova...Nightmare kept on looking into Ingrid’s eyes.

“What’s your plan, then?” Ingrid smiled sideways.

It wasn’t a question, but a dare, because Ingrid was being as rude as she would’ve been if she had screamed at Winston.

Little Nightmare’s scarred brow quivered.

“We shoot him in the eye.”

“Your real plan, Nova. I refuse to believe you’re that big of a dumbass. What kind of answer is that?” Ingrid mocked her, going back at torturing Phineas the Pineapple, who would be eaten for dinner because, indeed, they were living down here like sewer rats.

Something was rotting, just like down in the sewers.

“We shoot him in the eye.” Little Nightmare repeated herself, this time in a voice that didn’t sound like hers’, but like the voice of a firm and scary persona instead.

Leroy did pay more attention to her, and so did Honey, whose fingers stopped moving through the screen. Ingrid kept on peeling, but she directed a glare towards Nova, to tell her she was listening...and, as for Winston…

He was already listening way before Little Nightmare became grey.

“Do you think I’m kidding?” Little Nightmare scoffed. “Or are you dumb enough to believe he also has chrome in his eyeballs?”

“Woah.” Ingrid laughed, arching an eyebrow in a sharp way. “You call me dumb one more time, and it’s over for you, kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You won’t be alive anymore if you call me dumb again, either.”

A dark shadow passed through Little Nightmare’s face, as she straightened her back, in an attempt to look bigger. Or braver. Or to compensate something that, at the moment, she didn’t have.

“I think his eyes would work.” She rephrased it, as if it hadn’t been clear enough before. “Eyes are a sensible area, and nobody has ever tried to go for the eyes. If we try to shoot him there, it could work. The impact of the bullet or the venom will enter his system, going through the chrome layer, and it will later reach his brain, which will be enough to kill him.”

And, with that being said, Winston realized how funny this whole situation was.

More than funny, it was hilarious. More than hilarious, it was hysterical.

It was every single fun thing at the same time, which caused Winston to scoff. And the scoff turned into a giggle. And the giggle turned into a chuckle. And the chuckle turned into a wheezing laugh.

Wheezing, wheezing, wheezing.

Like he was out of air.

“What are you even laughing at now?”

What wasn’t he laughing at now.

Everyone was just so funny.

But there was something right there, building at the back of Winston’s brain, kicking his way out, demanding to be expressed.

Do it, Winston.

Do it, do it, do it.

And he did, because his recurrent question always was: What would Hettie do in this situation?

Hettie would’ve spoken, obviously.

Hettie was loud. Hettie often told him to speak. Winston liked Hettie.

Sometimes.

“Little Nightmare took a gun…” He wheezed again. “Shot the Captain forty times...when she realized what she had done...she shot the Warden forty-one.”

Little Nightmare frowned in disgust, because disgust was Little Nightmare’s favorite emotion. A few years ago, it was joy and sadness. But not now.

Now, Little Nightmare was always disgusted.

It almost seemed like she liked to be disgusted.

To be disgusted at him.

To be disgusted at everyone.

Her expression always said ew.

Winston wished it wasn’t like that.

“I’m...not even going to try to decipher what the fuck you're talking about now.” Honey started getting up, getting on her knees on top of the pillows, while trying to comb her curls with her fingers. Though, at this point, they didn’t really look that much like curls, because her hair was greasy. Little Nightmare’s was too, and that’s why she had tried to tie it, though the greasy locks of hair were constantly in her face. Leroy’s looked greasy too, as well as Winston’s. Ingrid was doing just fine. According to her, washing it daily was more damaging than it was beneficial for her type of hair.

Winston still held faint memories of the day Honey forced Leroy and him to drag a stolen bathtub down here, into the tunnels. The bathtub was still there, and sometimes they used it, by turns, when they managed to convince Winston to drag buckets of water from the surface, one by one, until it was enough to fill the bathtub. Leroy had become lazy over time, and wouldn’t help. In fact, he would refuse to help.

He also had faint memories about the nightly trip to the lake, many, many years ago...or maybe it had been two years ago. Or two days ago. Or a few days ago, though that wasn’t possible, because everyone’s hair was greasy, and it wouldn’t be greasy if they had been at the lake. Maybe it had been a few weeks ago. Maybe it hadn’t happened at all, and Winston had made it up because he could.

He remembered having gone to the lake when the sun was setting, taking their self-care stuff with them, to use the lake as their personal bathtub. Little Nightmare’s towel remained on the floor until she got out of the water. The same water Winston didn’t get into, because he didn’t feel like it. Because he didn’t like it. Because there were too many people in there, including Little Nightmare herself, obviously.

She knew how to swim and, conveniently, she was also very short, so she had to swim in order not to drown. Ingrid was helping her wash her hair, violently scratching her scalp with her fingertips like she would’ve washed a piece of clothing by hand, until Little Nightmare...Little Nova, took a fistful of foam from her own head and slapped Ingrid with it, telling her to stop that shit (very, very nasty vocabulary. Very unkind. Not pretty. Not cool). Ingrid then defended herself, and Honey was next, while trying to separate them, because Ingrid went ahead and threw water at her, because water directly thrown into a witch’s face was enough to melt her (Winston, to this day, wondered if she was serious about it. Melting witches with water sounded fun).

Winston heard the splashing of water. The screeching. The groaning. The screaming. The screaming he later realized was laughing.

They were laughing, even when Honey fell backwards and Ingrid barely managed to catch her by the arm and pull her forward before she could dive deep into the water.

Leroy, who was next to Winston (or maybe he wasn’t. He didn’t know if the memory was true or not), asked what was happening in there when he heard the silence. Little Nightmare then laughed again. And they laughed, even Honey, as she washed the swollen scratch Ingrid’s nails had left on her skin so it wouldn’t get infected, expressing how unfunny the whole situation was while laughing her head off.

That had been funny.

Very funny.

Winston would’ve liked to be a part of it, while not wanting it to be so at the same time.

But if the memory was true, then he knew he had been part of the s’mores, with the tiniest bit of chocolate and old cookies that, fortunately, didn’t taste as bad as they looked.

When the weather became colder, they went back to the tunnels, wrapped up in blankets. And Winston remembered fun.

Though he didn’t know what the source of fun had been, nor why they had decided not to talk about how they had had fun while showering in the lake.

They didn’t go to the lake anymore these days. And since Winston refused to fill the bathtub on his own, they didn’t bathe there anymore, either. Everybody showered at night, travelling half an hour, once or twice a week, to an old gas station that had showers. In Winston’s case, not always.

No, not always. He didn’t like it.

And half an hour was too much.

Too much.

“But I must say, I’m impressed.” Honey continued, giggling gracefully. “Sometimes it’s a good thing you don’t sleep, Nightmare. Imagine if you did. I feel you would be the type of gal who would wake up in the morning and just say ‘Wow. I’m going to come up with a way to kill myself that is so dumb…’

“Kill myself?” Little Nova...Nightmare, Nova, Nightmare, spat. “Dumb?” She dragged the words out of her mouth again, this time twice as annoyed and mad.

“How...how is that dumb? Isn’t this what I’ve been training for? To take down the Council? To kill Captain Chromium in order to take down the Council? To help my uncle? The only person who’s been there for me? The only person who ever cared about my family?” Little Nova hissed.

Caring.

Everybody wanted to be cared for.

She, in particular, needed and craved to be cared for.

Winston cared.

He did.

Hadn’t he been clear enough?

How clear did you have to be to care? Maybe clear as glass, or maybe as clear as unpolluted water, or as an unpolluted sky. When he was younger, Winston read somewhere that there were places where the sky was so clean the Milky Way could be seen at night.

Maybe you had to be one of her parents for her to finally notice you cared, and Winston wasn’t. David and Tala were, and they both happened to be dead as fuck at this point.

Caring, caring, caring.

Dead.

Bang.

Winston didn’t know where Tala was, but he was pretty sure David was in the Milky Way.

Maybe they could go together and look for him in the Milky Way.

"The Renegades took everything from me. It's my turn to take everything from them. We have to take Gatlon back and give it right back to the person it belongs. My un--"

"Hey, Nova?"

As her train of thought crashed against a dead end, Little Nova flinched and stared at him. Her frown was deep as the ocean.

Deep, deep.

Very deep.

She was disgusted.

"What?"

"Don't you wanna run away to New Mexico?"

She was frowning so deep her forehead was turning yellow; yellow as Phineas the Pineapple, and Phineas the Pineapple's blood was bright yellow. But Little Nova and Phineas the Pineapple weren't the same people, which didn’t make sense for many reasons, though Winston couldn’t think of any

Was everything inside of Phineas the Pineapple that yellow? Probably.

Maybe Phineas the Pineapple had yellow insides. Its lungs were yellow, its ribs were yellow, its stomach was yellow, its intestines were yellow, its heart was yellow.

Heart.

Little Nova had a heart too.

Winston wondered where she had inherited her heart from. Did it look more like Tala's or David's?

He could never answer that.

But he knew it didn't look like Ace's.

Little Nova's heart wasn't that empty.

Sometimes it was, when she stared at Winston like that.

But it wasn’t important, because Winston always forgave her, even if she never said sorry.

She didn’t need to.

"Are you making fun of me, Winston?"

"He is, yeah. Of all of us, actually. Why New Mexico?"

Little Nova's gaze shifted to Honey, who was still knelt down on the pillows, but this time she was smiling, as Ingrid arched an eyebrow and Leroy rolled his eyes.

"There are plenty of prettier places we could run away to, not New Mexico. We're not that desperate."

"We aren't?" Leroy crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you sure about that?"

“What do you mean we are?”

“What do you mean we aren’t?”

Winston’s eyes danced from one side to the other. First to Leroy, then to Honey, then to Leroy again.

Little Nova, on the other hand, was only glaring at Honey, because people were too used to choose who could do wrong and who couldn’t. Everyone had their person whom they thought could do no wrong. In Nova’s case, it wasn’t Winston.

In Winston’s case, it was Nova.

Little, little, tiny Nova.

They were friends.

They had been, at least.

Not so long ago.

Well…

Winston hoped it hadn’t been that long ago.

Sometimes everything seemed to be happening at the same time, and it was either too fast or awfully slow, with any sort of in between.

“We could leave the country. I travelled to Mexico with Leroy once. It was lovely.”

“You’re globally known, in case you don’t remember.”

“Pssh. Nobody cares, little Nightmare. Literally nobody but the Renegades care, so don’t let that haunt you. Still, we can live in confinement, if you like.”

Little Nightmare was so mad she was starting to pinch her own arm. Pinch. Pinch. Pinch. As if she were made of dough.

“It’s better than crappy tunnels with no water, if you ask me.”

“And what about Ace?” Little Nova challenged her, but before she could answer, Leroy took the words out of her mouth.

“We put him in the trunk so we can force him to come with us. He likes trunks. I don’t think he has any problem with being in one himself.”

“And how are you planning to illegally cross? Because I suppose…”

“We take him out and we carry him. He’s pretty underweight. At this point, even Ingrid weights more than him.”

“He’s also kinda ill. Maybe he won’t even make it. And if he does, then we get him a feeding tube so he takes his meds. If he fights, we…”

“Stop. Now you’re talking bullshit.” Little Nova seemed to be trying to remain calm, but her entire everything was quivering, along with her willpower not to lose her chill.

“Just trying to educate you.” Leroy said, shrugging, nonchalantly. “That whole plan sounded like plain nonsense and gibberish, didn’t it?”

Little Nova clicked her tongue, chuckling a little, sarcastically.

“What could possibly make you believe that, Leroy?”

“Then, you answer my question now.” He declared in a hoarse, monotonous voice. “How are you planning to shoot Captain Chromium in the eye?”

Winston didn’t understand the question, mostly because the Mexico plan did make sense, and it could work.

They just were explaining it wrong. There were too many elements in the picture. Too many, and they couldn’t fit each one of them in there. Some had to go and that was just the plain truth.

They didn’t need Ace.

Winston wasn’t sure why, but he knew they didn’t. A thought that only became stronger when Ingrid decided this wasn’t interesting enough for her to pay attention to it, and so she returned to her task of mutilating poor, harmless Phineas the Pineapple. Swish. Swish. Swish.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

Everything was yellow.

A nasty shade of yellow.

It reminded him of Ace, to a certain extent.

Not Phineas the Pineapple.

The knife.

Caring, caring, caring.

Was he the one who cared about Little Nova?

Was he, for real?

Was he?

Because if he was, then Winston couldn’t find a reason why.

And if he couldn’t find a reason why, it must mean they didn’t need to take him with them at all.

Phineas the Pineapple was too kind to be Ace, but at the same time, it was so yellow that Winston could tell it was rotting inside, if not already rotten. Just like Ace.

Simultaneously, he was the knife. But the knife would’ve been nothing if Ace had been the pineapple.

Because if Ace had been Phineas the Pineapple, then he would’ve swallowed the knife.

He would’ve swallowed Ingrid too.

How nasty.

How awful.

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It is, Nova.”

“IT’S NOT! YOU JUST WANTED TO MAKE ME MAD!” Little Nova was red.

Skies, she was so red. And she was also blue. And she was purple.

“If we were to run away, I would’ve made sure EVERYONE could come, just like I’m going to manage to make this plan work!”

“What plan?” Honey spoke this time. Her glossy lips arching into a smile, and her nail on her chin, barely touching her skin at all.

“Uhm?” She hummed, when Little Nova was left with no response. “What plan, sweetness? We’re all ears.”

What plan, indeed?

Because, to put it lightly, Winston was lost. He didn’t know what plan they were referring to now. He didn’t know if they were talking about the running away plan, or the Captain Chromium plan. Either way, he liked running away better.

Again, everything would fall into place if they just left Ace here.

They didn’t need him.

Little Nova didn’t need him as much as she thought she did.

As for Captain Chromium…

As for the caring part…

As for the everything part…

Following Little Nova’s logic...Following Little Nightmare’s logic, also…

Somebody must die.

On that, they were on the same page.

But for all he cared, knowing Little Nova was among that “all”, Winston knew that someone wasn’t the Captain.

A little, maybe.

But not as much as Little Nova thought.

First they had to dive deep into the issue. Deep as they could.

Then, they had to scratch on the details, like panicked stray cats.

Then, they had to look into what they could see, and find a way to see what they couldn’t.

There were some things Little Nova didn’t know, not just about life, or about the surface, or about them, or about herself.

There were things Little Nova claimed she knew, when in reality she didn’t and that was dangerous and blinding like a burning, endless flame that was destroying all her insides, piece by piece, limb by limb, organ by organ.

First, she had to look into the right direction, which was also the one she refused to look into.

Then, Ace Anarchy had to die.

Ace Anarchy must die.

Because Phineas the Pineapple had a wife and two daughters.

Ace Anarchy must die.

He must die, die, die.

Harder than he had died before.

“Who’s gonna tell her?”

Because, if not them...who?

All the eyes directed towards him, again.

They weren’t happy.

Maybe they knew what Winston was talking about, which made him happy, but not that much.

He didn’t like it when people stared at him like that. Why was everyone so rude all the time?

Just...why?

“What did you say?” Nova asked.

Nor carefully, or slowly.

She just asked, in a very Little Nova way.

Fast and impatient.

“I said: Who’s gonna tell you?”

“Who’s gonna tell me what?”

“That’s exactly why you should know.” He sang, giggling and rocking himself back and forth, crossing his legs and grabbing his ankles. Little Nova seemed annoyed, Leroy was just staring, and Honey was massaging the bridge of her nose, with her eyes closed.

Ingrid, on the other hand, was squeezing the knife. Phineas the Pineapple was dead next to her, in a nasty old bowl.

Winston tilted his head to the side, staring directly at said bowl, containing Phineas the Pineapple’s dismembered corpse.

The unreclaimed grave said “Tala Artino & Evelyn Artino”, which should mean they had put Evelyn back into Tala’s stomach. David’s grave was next to it, alone. They hadn’t put any baby inside of him, because the other baby was standing right here, staring at Winston with hate.

The space around those graves was small.

Winston would’ve drawn a circle around the two, the same shape as that bowl, which was now Phineas the Pineapple’s resting place, and that would’ve been enough. They would’ve fit perfectly, the three of them.

But, no matter what they did, they would be still part of another, bigger circle, in which Little Nova was trapped too, alongside Little Nightmare.

“He’s the center of a circle.” Winston concluded, smiling widely. “...but I…” He raised a finger.

“...I can draw a circle. I can draw a smaller circle…” He formed a circle with his thumb and his index, and placed it around his right eye. “...around him...and I can trap him there, like a mouse....”

Little Nova’s expression became sharper.

“...And when I trap him in that circle...his whole life will fit inside.”

And they would all be free.

But he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“The spot where they...died…” Winston placed both his hand right in front of him, trying to calculate the distance by imagining the scale. “....is south….”

The bird nest was south.

Though, as far as Winston understood, the space in the building where the bird nest was located had been sealed, because nobody wanted to live with ghosts.

“....he absorbed their lives too. Yes. We could draw a circle around you too, Little Nova. If only you knew.”

And the sound of the bees right behind him made him straighten his back, to avoid the stingers, but the coldness and wetness overshadowed that sensation.

Upon lowering his gaze, he saw the sharp, shiny blade in which his chin was resting on.

Ingrid’s brown eyes were feeding from his soul, as the gunpowder odor emanated from her, and her knuckles became pale.

Yet, the only thing Winston could focus on, was the smell of rotting pineapple juice, impregnated on the blade.

Phineas the Pineapple.

“Don’t slash my throat with that knife, Ingrid.” He said, in an extremely high-pitched voice. “It’s already bleeding.”

He saw the fear, and saw the terror of the moment Ingrid understood. And as the knife fell to the ground, she came closer. Her cold, calloused hands around his throat, and his hands around her wrists.

“And you’re going down with them.” She whispered.

Then Leroy lifted her up.

That didn’t relief nor annoy him.

He knew he wouldn’t die today. And, certainly, not to Ingrid’s hands.

But a part of him did die, when his eyes laid on Nova, who was now faintly touching Honey’s hand, which at the same time was placed on her shoulder, running her thumb through her skin.

“Get out.” She said.

“Get out.” She commanded.

“Get out.” she pleaded.

And if she didn’t want to see, then there was nothing Winston could show her. Nothing at all he could do for her.

But Little Nova would know someday.

And when she knew, Ace Anarchy would fall.

Winston would wait for that day.

Winston would wait for her.

Because, fortunately, a circle was not enough to fit Little Nova’s life inside yet.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #my fanfics #dawnie writes #winston pratt #the puppeteer #nova artino #nightmare #ingrid thompson #the detonator #honey harper #queen bee #leroy flinn #cyanide #alec artino #ace anarchy #this takes place between a six months and a year before the trilogy btw

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