Bailey was the first one out of the classroom. All she wanted was to be out of that stupid science class, away from that stupid Mr. Crowther. What a jerk... Bailey thought as she headed down the hallway. He yet again had humiliated her with a joke about her ability to see. She had just gotten rid of her glasses, and had forgotten to put in her contacts. He just couldn't help but to make fun of her squinting eyes while she was struggling to read the blackboard. All Bailey knew was she was happy it was the end of 9th period.

-------------------------------------------------------

Bailey wasn't the athletic type, but she did love soccer- and boy, was she good at it. Everyone knew it, too.. After all, she had scored 7 points in their last game, which they won, the score being 16-0. She had a game later, and she had been waiting at least 3 weeks; All the other games were rained out.

OOC: Hey, when I want to reply with both God and Satan, which place should I set my reply on, Heaven or Hell?

Emerson Klein wasn't the type to care much what anyone thought of him. Indeed, one could almost go so far as to say that he cared little for anything at all, and they wouldn't be too far from wrong. Which was why at this moment, sitting in the principal's office, he was betraying absolutely no emotion at all.

The Principal, a balding, middle-aged man who generally had good intentions but tended to come off as excessively ingratiating (not to mention condescending) was attempting to stare him down, and failing miserably. Nobody ever really won in a stare-down with Jack. There were maybe two people who could hold his gaze long enough that he got bored and moved on, but pretty much everyone else lost. Mr. Waters was no exception.

"Emerson-" the man began, but was quickly cut off.

"It's Jack." He hated it when people called him Emerson. His given name was so damn pretentious, just like his entire family. Might as well have broadcast the news live: attention all citizens! The Kleins have more money than they know what to do with, and they're not afraid to rub it in your face.

"Jack," Mr. Waters allowed, trying once again to sustain eye contact with the young man and fixing his gaze on the bridge of his nose instead. "I know that sometimes you feel that Mr. Crowther doesn't use the best teaching methods, but-"

"'Doesn't use the best methods?' He made fun of Bailey Rivers for being short-sighted. What kind of a dumbass teacher does that?" This was, in fact, the latest in a string of abuses (as Jack saw them) against not only Bailey but the students of his class in general. Jack had been raised with just the right mixture of pride and indignance that he wasn't going to let that sort of thing slide for very long. Today had been the final straw. He actually didn't mind Bailey; she wasn't a huge jerk behind his back like most people were, and that sort of crap was uncalled for as far as he was concerned. So he'd gotten stuck in to the arrogant good-for-nothing, and called him out in a scathing monotone. He had, of course been sent to the office straight afterward, and was sitting there even as the bell rang.

"Language, Jack," Mr. Waters reminded him. This was a conversation they'd had before, obvious in the weariness of the principal's voice. In truth, the man didn't care for Sam Crowther either, but the school board wouldn't let him fire the teacher and replace him. "Look, all I'm asking is that you avoid direct confrontation with him. I know you don't respect him, but I want you to respect this school and do your best in the class anyway. We both know you can succeed when you apply yourself, and you don't want your chances at getting into a good college ruined by a failing grade, okay?"

Jack made a sullen grunting sound that meant he grudgingly agreed, and Mr. Waters smiled. "Good. Now, I do believe you have track and field practice this afternoon, so I won't keep you any longer. I hear the team's going to be great this year, so work hard."

The young man didn't bother to respond as he exited, headed for the locker rooms to change. He needed a good run to get the angry out of his system.

Effy wasn't the kind of person to be upset when someone was picked on--since she was usually the instigator--but she was pretty ticked when he made fun of Bailey's short-sightedness. It was really more stupid than anything. And she actually liked Bailey, which couldn't be said for how she felt most people. Most people fell all over Effy, trying to win her affection. It was sickening. But Bailey had always been really laid back, and genuinely nice. Effy couldn't say she was exactly a friend, after all, they didn't run in the same circles. Still, she wasn't a bad girl.

And Effy couldn't help but smile when Jack Klein stuck up for Bailey. Part of it could also be that Mr. Crowther was such a creeper, and had hit on Effy more than once. It was nice to see him being told off. Plus she liked Jack Klein too. Even though he was kind of an emo kid. But, whatever. He'd always been pretty cool to her, not seeing her as some popular princess, but just a chick you could talk to. And he was kind of cute, although she'd never admit that to anyone.

Effy headed towards the girls' locker room, where she changed into her practice uniform. Time to round up the minions, she thought to herself. She adjusted her ponytail in the mirror, and headed out to the track.

"Okay, ladies. We've got a game tonight tomorrow night, and you better have this routine flawless!" she yelled towards the other cheerleaders. She took her position as head cheerleader very seriously, and found that leadership suited her well. Suited her well, indeed.

Bailey was on her way to the locker room, a few minutes after the cheerleaders had come out, as she saw Jack Klein. "Jack..!" Bailey called timidly, but just loud enough to get his attention. She approached him, seemingly intimidated by how he towers over her, but then looked up with a burst of confidence. "I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me.." She said, suddenly feeling awkward as the confidence faded.

Jack was stopped on his way to the guys' locker room by Bailey herself, apparently still feeling pretty bad about what had been said. He figured her for one of those people who cared too much; people like that tended to get hurt pretty easy, and maybe that was why he bothered to stop at all.

She met his eyes only briefly, and he was struck by how much shorter than him she was. Well, almost everyone was shorter than him, except Caleb Spencer, who actually had an extra inch. But then, he didn't usually stand close enough to people to talk to them, and his height was mostly in his legs, making it a bit less obvious when sitting.

"Oh. Uh, sure, whatever. I mean, you're welcome. Just.. remember to wear your contacts tomorrow. Don't want to give him ammunition and stuff." Jack flinched inwardly. He was really, really bad at talking to people. Math, biology, history.. that kind of thing, he understood. People, especially friendly people he couldn't be a jerk to, were an entirely different story. There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Jack made a vague gesture at the locker rooms. "I've got practice, so..." he nodded to her, heading to the locker room without another word.

A quick change and a few minutes later, the track team was out to practice. As usual, the cheerleaders were in the middle of the field the track circled. Not that it bothered him any. The two groups never really got in each others' way, so Jack never paid it much mind.

Coach was in the middle of the traditional "Let's do great this season" speech she gave at the beginning of every practice before handing out the assignments for the next meet. Jack himself was pretty all-around; he generally anchored a relay, ran a sprint and the mile, and/or pole vaulted. This year, he'd be running the 500, the mile, and high jumping, which was new.

"All right, guys, let's start off with a three-mile run." Coach Lamont, a woman in her mid-thirties with a blond bun and a reputation for being strict but effective both on the track and the classroom (she was the school's only French teacher), clapped her hands to break the meeting, and the boys were off, Jack himself in the middle third of the pack, but already running stronger than most of the others. He'd hang out on the front edge of this group for a while, but what they guys at the front never seemed to get was that this was all about endurance. Later, when they were all tired and panting, he and a few others would pass them all and finish first.

Bailey smiled calmly to herself. She, like most girls, liked Jack, but also like them, would not admit it. The next thing Bailey knew, she was in her soccer outfit, and heading out onto the soccer field which was directly across from the track. She spotted Jack doing a practice run, before her own coach gave a few commands. She had to play a few practice games before the big one tonight, so everyone split into 2 big groups and began to play.

OOC: This is her oufit, plus black Adidas soccer cleats.

http://image34.webshots.com/35/7/84/70/ ... dZT_fs.jpg

"By all that is me..." God muttered as He observed Sam Crowther from His throne, rubbing His eyes with the heal of His hand. The science teacher had once again done wrong in His eyes, and God knew better than to assume Crowther would go home, throw himself at a crucifix, and beg His forgiveness. (Not that He'd give it even if he did.) Crowther just had a way of getting under God's skin, as did all sinners and those that belonged to Satan. Lucifer's getting another one once Crowther goes. Oh joy, God thought.

Even though God was easily keeping up with the number of souls that entered Satan's domain every minute, He was getting extremely irritated with the number of people that didn't follow His path. It was so much easier than Satan's, and it actually had benefits. Why would anyone feel it necessary to follow in Satan's footsteps, holding no respect for anyone, receiving joy while tormenting another? "Lucifer, what ever went wrong?" God asked Himself for the eighth time that day.

--

Lucifer laughed at the two men in front of him. Hard. He was forcing them to whip each other's backs, and with each scream, Lucifer's excitement and happiness grew ten-fold. "Ah, yes! Do it once more, with feeling!" he yelled over their cacophony.

Both men were on the verge of unconsciousness, but they still turned towards him, glaring severely. "We refuse," one stated. "You're evil, and we refuse to do by your bidding. You can't make us do this forever."

His happiness drained. Lucifer slowly walked towards the men, cocking his head in the way a curious dog would. "...What was that?" he whispered. "Would you mind saying that again? I want to make sure I heard it correctly."

The man that had spoken up had already lost his confidence. His was turning very pale, and a layer of sweat was already building up on his brow. He cleared his throat. "Y-you're evil. W-we will n-not do as you-"

"FOOLS!" Lucifer shouted, his horns slowly emerging from his head. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK IN SUCH AN INSOLENT WAY! YOU WILL REGRET THOSE WORDS!" He grabbed the two men, his excitement returning ever so slightly as they shouted for his mercy, we didn't mean it Lord Satan, it's our own fault we're here, we should learn to respect you.

"Oh, shut up!" Lucifer cracked the two men's heads together, enjoying the sound that echoed across the cavern they were in. The crack knocked out the two men, and Lucifer, finding no more entertainment in them for the day, threw them into an acid pit. He was breathing hard, and his horns had fully exposed themselves. Walking back to his pitchfork, Lucifer glared at a demon that was staring at him, eyes wide. "You're next unless you leave."

The demon left. Quickly.

Jack watched with some bemusement as the soccer team joined the cheerleaders on the field. That could be interesting, after a fashion. The soccer captain was known to have a problem with Effy Parker, who basically commanded the cheerleaders, being the only one of them with a brain to speak of. Jack didn't particularly like cheerleaders on principle; they were simply far too happy (when they weren't busy being catty), and it came off as fake most of the time, but Effy didn't really have that problem. Why, he couldn't say, but whatever. Some people just defied your stereotypes, and that was that.

Whether or not there would be an argument remained to be seen, but for now Jack was going to do what Jack did best: ignore everyone else and run. He enjoyed very much the feeling of solitude that running could give a person, even in the middle of a crowd. Focus enough on the sound of your own breathing, on the feel of your feet against the pavement below, and nothing else mattered unless you wanted it to, which Jack rarely did.

Initially, he'd only joined the track team because he was fast and wanted any possible excuse to stay away from home as late as possible. These days, he pretty much did what he wanted and ignored his parents, but he'd stuck with track. He'd come to like it, really, and at least when you were tired at the end of a workout you felt like you'd accomplished something, unlike when you were tired after arguing with your father abut how you weren't your sister and never would be- no. This was his chance to not think about that, and he was going to take it.

Passing the first mile mark, he increased his speed, allowing himself to stretch out a bit more and overtaking a good half the people between himself and the leader in the process. Marcus Dunlap, a football player who did track in his off-season, was currently in front of everyone else, as usual. The guy liked to think he had it all, but it generally just left everyone except his cronies and his girlfriend with a bitter taste in their mouths.

Having finally decided on a punishment for Crowther while he was still alive, God gazed down into the sphere beside His throne; He was watching the four children He had set aside for a very special plan He had come up with, all for the sake of defeating and containing Satan. Although, the "children" weren't really children anymore. They had all blossomed into...teenagers. God couldn't say much else about them, for occasionally, they all committed a sin. They didn't do anything worthy of being with Satan- not to mention God cut a few strings here and there-, but they weren't perfect little saints. Some of them God wasn't even sure believed in Him or not.

But no matter what, the four adolescents would learn to believe in the Lord. And their time would be soon.

Bailey watched as everyone finished up their practicing and left the field... Everyone but the soccer team. Anyone who wanted to watch the game would get changed and come out while everyone else came home. She was called back onto the set of bleachers that were reserved for the home team, and they waited while the other team arrived and prepared.

Jack had, as predicted, finished his three miles well ahead of everyone else. the time had then come for sprints and field events, but he'd be lying if he said today's practice was at all difficult by Coach's standards. Probably because the soccer team had a home game today; the fact that their high school somehow managed to have only one field was kind of annoying like that.

Still, it wasn't like he thought the track team should have it all to themselves or anything. Granted, they were the winningest team the school had, but... Aw shut it, Jack, you're being an asshole again. sometimes, he caught himself thinking really jerk-like things. most of the time, he put it down to his pretentious upbringing, but he knew he was a bit of an ass himself, sometimes. Still, he was working on it, and generally managed to avoid being too mean to anyone. well, except maybe teachers who didn't know when to lay off.

He briefly debated watching the soccer game, just to kill more time before he had to go home, but then he remembered the big test he had in calculus tomorrow, and groaned inwardly. It wasn't hard, but he did need to maybe actually crack the book once in a while, instead of just faking away the class and doing the worksheets without bothering to put a lot of effort into it.

Decided, he headed back for the locker room and changed, deciding that there was as usual no way he was showering here. Those things were just plain gross; he was pretty sure by now that the mysterious black "stain" on the floors was actually mold. He might have to consider breaking his enforced silence with both his parents just to get them to donate enough to clean the place up, maybe throw in a new field while they were at it. It wasn't as though it would be a problem, and his dad would probably be glad to help out. His mother would complain about the barbarity of sports, but that was mostly for show.

Removing his keys from his backpack, Jack slid his shades onto his face and headed for the parking lot, depressing the button that unlocked his shiny silver Mercedes with a beep. He really, really, didn't want to go home, and any distraction would be welcome, but... there was the test to consider.

Bailey looked over and saw Jack heading towards the parking lot, ready to leave. She figured that, since she doesn't see him very often, she might as well thank him in another way then words. She skillfully hopped off the bleachers, and started to speed-jog towards Jack. She was becoming slightly jealous by the amazing car sitting in the lot, and all of his expensive clothes, but she wiped that thought from her mind.

She continued on, and caught him just as he was climbing into the driver's seat. 'E-.. Jack! Wait!" she called. He didn't hear, but she was actually happy he hadn't because she had screwed up his name. She tried again, "Jack, wait a sec!"

Jack's head snapped up at the sound of a voice. That was weird. Nobody really talked to him if they could avoid it. It took him a second to recognize that it was Bailey Rivers again. Wait, didn't she have a game right now or something? He figured it must be important in that case.

He'd been about to slide into the driver's seat, but he switched direction only slightly awkwardly and stood back up, closing the car door with a thud. "Uh... Bailey? Is everything okay?" She was really booking it across the parking lot. Maybe he'd left something out on the track? It wasn't his turn to take care of the equipment today, but if everyone else had already left, he guessed he probably ought to take care of it.

He suddenly wondered if it was rude to talk to people with sunglasses on. He'd seen people do it before, but most of them were jerks anyway. maybe it had something to do with the fact that you couldn't see people's eyes if they did that? Wouldn't that actually make it less rude for him, since most people couldn't sustain eye contact for more than a few seconds anyway? Could one glare behind a pair of shades? Why he cared, he didn't know, and he ultimately decided to leave them on, since it might look weird if he took them off for no reason. So maybe she didn't know he was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something. Either way, she would eventually, right?

She soon was stopping in front of him, and she leaned forward to rest her hands on her knees. She paused for a moment to take a few breaths before standing up straight again. She smiled.

"Aaare you busy?" The words slipped effortlessly out of her mouth. She was normally very shy around people she wasn't close with, but suddenly she felt comfortable around him. "I was wondering if you'd like to stay for the game, and see our amazing and brilliant home team take the prize." She giggled silently, and was surprised at her own outgoingness. She was actually kind of proud of herself.

The excitement of having witnessed a soul in pain having worn off, Lucifer walked briskly back to his throne, where he had a perfect view of everything occurring in his little realm of death and agony. He smiled in the direction of a scream, but it provided little help as far as his boredom went. Beginning to play with is pointed tail, Lucifer started brainstorming ideas to amuse himself. Dropping people, one by one, into the lava pits grew annoying after a while (contant, unbroken patterns were something Lucifer had little or no patience for); whipping, he had just witnessed; raising a knife against the souls didn't seem appealing either...

Then, it came to him. Holding his hands together, Lucifer thought of one single sin: lust. The abstract concept quickly developed in his hands, a pulsing red orb with shots of pink, white, and purple in it. When it was able to rest calmly in his palm, Lucifer raised his essence to the Earth, searching for one or two or all of God's special little children that were supposedly going to destroy him, the Devil.

Like that would ever happen.

Finding the perfect scenario for his scheme, Lucifer sent the lust orb off. It was invisible to everyone but him, and it couldn't be directed by anyone but him. He stopped it in the center of the two children, and forced a mental needle into the orb. Instantly, the need for lust covered Bailey Rivers and Emerson "Jack" Klein.

Jack was about to make his excuses (he felt like kind of an ass for saying 'no' when she'd invited him specifically, but... calculus) when he felt some weird feeling hit him like a ton of bricks. It took him a second to recognize what it was, and for that moment, he stared dumbly at bailey as if at a loss for words, but then recognition set in, and his mind immediately backpedaled.

He didn't think Bailey Rivers was attractive! Well, okay, that was kind of a lie; it was well-acknowledged by the general male population of their high school that she was, but he didn't usually want to kiss her senseless, did he? No, that was definitely not normal. Jack was a rational, cold human being. In fact, he'd been informed on numerous occasions that his general humanity was also in question due to his lack of discernible feeling. Isabella was fond of telling him that he had two modes: robot and jerk robot. Neither one of which quite accounted for whatever this was.

He needed out of this situation, and now. No way he was going to risk the loss of his self-control, no matter the reason. "Uh... sorryIreallycan'tclactesttomorrowgoodluckwithyourgamethough," he managed all in one breath, then nearly dived into his car, revving the engine and backing out- and blessedly, blessedly away from whatever the heck was going on.

Nice job, Jack. Now she thinks you hate her, AND you're running from your problems.

Bailey watched as Jack sped away, almost feeling heartbroken. She looked back at her team, and hoped that none of them had saw that. Bailey suddenly wished she hadn't have talked to him at all, feeling as if she had hurt him also, not just herself. Slowly, she began to walk back to the bleachers where her team stayed before a game, thinking deeply about the previous situation despite her attempts to erase it from her worried mind.

Willing the lust orb to work, Lucifer cursed as Jack Klein slammed the door of his car and raced away. "Damn it!" he shouted, smacking his fists against the armrests of his throne. "Damn it all to Heaven!" Snarling a bit, Lucifer put his hands together once more, focusing on the sin of lust once more. He'd create as many as possible until Bailey Rivers and Jack Klein were making the man upstairs do backflips. Further more, he was looking forward to this particular activity, as it was his favorite. Nothing quite like breaking up a marriage or ruining the lives of two teenagers out of boredom.

Releasing the second lust orb, Lucifer broke it in half and sent each one after a teenager. Maybe the one dose of lust for each would force the two back together again.

--

"Lucifer, do you take me for an imbecile?" God asked out loud, observing the two halves of the lust orb from His throne.

"Damndamndamndamndamn," Jack swore to himself several times in quick succession, applying more pressure to the pedal than was perhaps strictly legal. What the fuck was wrong with his brain today, anyway? He was never like this; he left the obviously hormonal jocks to be like that. Frankly, he was glad he'd gotten his sorry ass outta there before he'd done something he was going to regret later. That would just be... no, better to not even think about it.

The young man shuddered, and pulled into his garage, not even bothering to lock his doors before grabbing his school stuff and running upstairs to his study. He'd be alone, now, as his parents wouldn't be home for another couple hours at least, and his sister was away at college. Dumping his backpack on the floor beside his desk, he collapsed into the accompanying office chair, breathing a sigh of relief. That had been close... to what, exactly, he wasn't precisely sure, but it would have been bad. Even now, he felt somewhat compelled to go back.

Yikes. No way he was doing that shit, no matter how badly his stupid inner self was telling him he wanted to. For once, he was relieved to be doing calculus homework. Nothing quite killed any remotely hormonal feeling quicker than calc. Already he was relaxing substantially, and managed to push whatever the hell he was feeling from his brain, focused as it was on the strictly logical art of relating number to each other for no other reason than because he could.

Bailey was almost toppling over at a sudden light-headedness she felt, but that quickly faded. She had a deep...how could she say it? 'Need', for Jack. Actually, she was surprising herself.

Soccer had been Bailey's favoriet past time for over 5 years now. Whenever she was stressed, sad, or any type of upset, she would go out in her medium-sized backyard and kick around her soccer ball. Even when she was happy. If she was just plain bored she'd start kicking that old soccer ball around. And it wasn't that the game was just fun for her; it upped her self-confidence, and it made her feel on top of the world. It made her feel powerful.

But now, she was surprising herself. She felt such a need for that boy she barely knew, she wanted to skip what made her the happiest. She didn't know why she was feeling this way, but she was. And she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. Either way, she wasn't going to let her team down. But maybe, just maybe, she could bring herself to go to his house to visit him later tonight, after her and her team win the game...

Several hours and a ridiculous number of theorem proofs later, Jack sat back in his desk chair, stretching his arms out behind him and letting out a gusty exhalation that strangely resembled a sigh of relief. Huh. That was pretty unusual for him, but then he was indeed relieved. Not only were these damn proofs done, but whatever had come over him earlier had faded.

Standing, he shook out his limbs before padding downstairs in search of something to eat. Technically, his family employed a full household staff, certified chef included, but Jack was the sort of person who was more inclined to do things his own way, and as a result, he'd asked Antonio (said chef) to teach him how to cook. Like most things he enjoyed, Jack wound up very good at it, and Antonio was usually quite happy to let him wander about the kitchen as he pleased. It was one less thing for the beleaguered Italian man to do, after all, and Jack rarely got in the way.

that said, Jack was more in the mood for takeout and television at the moment, and so he rummaged around in the fridge, coming up with several of those smallish white boxes you got from cheap Chinese restaurants. Antonio, busy preparing dinner for Jack's parents, caught sight of them and shook his head disapprovingly, but he wouldn't say anything about it. Jack liked that about the man: he was a good guy, and didn't go out of the way to make himself a pain in the ass.

Wending his way through the house, he selected one of the smaller rooms with a TV (which was still twice as big as the average bedroom, not to mention the fact that the TV was high-definition and flatscreen) and plopped himself on the sofa, switching on the box with a remote on the redwood coffee table. Crossing his legs underneath him, he tucked into the food with a pair of chopsticks, occasionally flipping channels when he got bored.

Bailey, like the rest of her team, lined up and crossed paths with everyone on the other team to high-five and congratulate them for a good game (actually an epic win for the home team, but that's what they called it, anyway.). At the end of slapping hands together, the home-team did cartwheels across the field, but Bailey didn't partake in the gloating. Although the deep desire for Jack had declined, she decided to pay him a visit anyway and apologize for what had happened earlier; It wasn't that she had offended him in any way, but she felt she had embarressed him. Either way, she would make the situation right.

Bailey went back to the locker room to change, ignored loud, aloof preps, grabbed her bag, and left. She began down the sidewalk in the dark, like she always did, and began the 15 minute walk home.

Jack made a disgusted noise and turned off the television. There was nothing on; even the discovery channel was just running a repeat of something he'd seen before. What was the big draw of reality TV anyway? He personally couldn't stand it. People just made huge idiots out of themselves, and he was supposed to enjoy watching it? The Hell?

Depositing his carton in a trash can, the young man stretched and yawned slightly, glancing up at his clock. Huh. That time already? It had to be dark out by now. Not that this meant anything in particular to him; he was something of a nocturnal creature by habit, and morning classes were always a bit of a challenge. Good habit to be in for college, maybe.

Which reminded him: his mother was going to be bothering him about that soon, and if he didn't at least figure out a way to fake some interest in at least a few places, she'd probably throw another fit and tell him he wasn't ambitious enough, like she always did. Whatever. He considered taking a walk outside to calm his mind, but he really wasn't stressed enough to warrant the action at present, so instead he headed back to his study, grabbing a random book off the shelf and plonking himself lengthwise over a leather couch. He could hear the sounds of the staff greeting his mother downstairs; doubtless it would still be a few hours before Mr. Klein showed up.

Bailey was walking back in the darkness. Alone. As usual, cars that were leaving the game were passing by, but for some reason, she got the chills as each one came and went. Bailey sighed to herself, gripping the strap of her bag over her shoulder tighter. She turned to look at another car that was supposed to keep going, but stopped instead. She ignored the honking vehicle and mob of guys hollering to her, keeping to herself and picking up her pace. She only stopped when one of them got out and grabbed her arm, offering to give her an especially unwanted ride. When Bailey denied him, he gripped her arm tighter and began dragging her towards the car and other guys.


"I said no!" Bailey called out, heart racing, but to no prevail.