by Lady Bast
There had been a changing of the guard.
"Ahmed...Auda," grinned Duo with a slight bow. The soldiers laughed at the false humility and nodded in return. "How are your wives? Your children?"
"Enjoying each other's company more than I am," replied Ahmed with faint regret. "Although I understand that they are doing well in the house of the princess Amenet. And children! Aza and Sabir are nearly your own age and soldiers in their own right."
"I'll be seeing Inayah soon enough," grinned Auda. "It's my month next. There will be a bit of a land journey though. I'll be riding with a merchant train through some pretty rough territory..."
Duo's expression grew serious. "Ah. A stretch of desert, I expect?"
"Small, but long enough to require water-bearing animals," the guard confirmed.
"No wells, I suppose?"
"One stop...but if the weather is bad we'll be forced to bypass it in favour of shelter."
"And you are asking for an intercession, I imagine?' Duo offered him a feral grin. "A talisman? A charm?"
Auda shrugged good-naturedly. "We-ell..."
"For you, I won't even elevate the price although good charms aren't selling cheaply."
"And I thank you! The usual weight of hamoa then, and one block of the assassin's herb." [27]
"Auda..."
"Two blocks then...but I wish you'd be more careful with it."
Duo offered the man a salacious grin. "You could always offer me a daughter."
Auda snorted as Ahmed laughed. "I treat my daughters like those of Allah himself. [28] Would Allah give a daughter to a disreputable thief? I think not."
"From what I have heard of your Allah and his daughters, they would be a match for any disreputable thief." Duo faked a yawn...the Saracen's threats did not impress him. "No daughters then. But I will see to it that your Inayah has something to remember my good will if ever you change your mind."
"It will take more than a trinket to make Inayah believe in your good will, but I thank you," said Auda.
"Some things can't be helped," replied Duo with faint weariness. "But they can often be improved. I believe there was a messenger heading toward Rashid's chamber earlier, Ahmed. You might wish to ask him about it. It might not be your month to travel, but one can never tell when good news will come their way."
Ahmed seemed pleased, but offered no thanks, speaking gravely instead. "I am expecting no message, but I will ask just the same. You are right, after all...one never can tell."
"Duo!"
Wufei glared at the group from the open doorway to the Prince's chambers. His face was stern, but not unyielding. "Chief Steward?" returned Duo with a good natured bow of the head.
"You do realize that you are late, don't you?"
"And this is a new thing?" the young priest ventured before he was caught by the arm and dragged into the apartment. As the door closed behind him, he could hear Auda calling a cheerful, "Enjoy yourself, Pure One."
"It doesn't do to keep the Prince waiting, Duo. You know that!" sighed Wufei when the door had closed behind them. "One day your luck will run out."
"Not so much luck as personal charm," replied Duo, unperturbed. "And I'm not dead yet so I guess I'm doing alright."
"Give the Prince cause to investigate you and that will not last for long." Wufei's voice was barely a whisper. "We hate you and we love you...the next one might only be worth hating."
"Or only worth loving."
Wufei ignored the comment and accompanied the priest into the inner chamber. "The Pure One, Set-Aket-Dua," he told the Prince.
Quatre looked up from his couch where Het-Hori was rubbing his back with oil. A single word and the body servant withdrew, allowing him to stand. "You have kept me waiting, priest." He treated Duo to a hard stare, his voice chill.
"My Prince is over-eager for his atonement?" replied Duo with amusement.
Quatre's mouth involuntarily twitched into a faint smile. "Of course not," he lied easily. "But I enjoy order and punctuality is part of that order. Much of my day is planned to the minute. You are merely fortunate that at this time of night I have no other matters to attend to. Wufei, inform the keepers of the temple of Asar User-ma'at-ra, the great Ramesses, that tomorrow I will be attending morning rites there once I've finished greeting the sun in the temple of Nekhebet. And I will be accompanied by Set-Aket-Dua," he added as Duo winced to suppress a groan, "who will perform the ceremony in honour of the man who has apparently made his priesthood wealthy enough to challenge a son of Amun. When you have done this, please see to it that the kitchens have the orders for tomorrow's food preparation...I have had a few special delicacies imported for the Lady Relena and I wouldn't want them to go amiss. Once all is in order, you may retire."
"At once, my Prince. Thank you." Wufei bowed deeply and backed out of the room. Nothing more was said until the heavy door of the outer chamber was opened and closed behind him.
"It was very kind of you to have special foods brought in for the Lady Relena," said Duo finally. "It was not necessary."
Quatre was silent for some moments before replying. "Merely bribery to the gods. Perhaps atonement of another sort. I notice you did not bring a mask."
"Oh, I have time to run up the Nile to snatch the ceremonial regalia at Kom Ombo, return to you, and then replace it before any of the priesthood notice...that I do," replied Duo sarcastically. "You are too involved in this and your very suggestions are blasphemous."
"Will this increase my punishment?" Quatre pretended to be fearful, but only succeeded in looking amused.
"No, the punishment remains the same. Ten lashes with the scorpion whip...and ten more for every sound you make. And you must forfeit your power to me...if only for a night." Duo fought for control of his voice. It would do him no good to let his disgust show. "You know," he said more gently, "it does you no good to seek the dead when so many are living."
"I will thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, priest. If I am need of advice, I will ask for it. And if you are unhappy in my employ, address your temple. Have them send a replacement."
"You know that would be impossible. You pay too much for my particular talents...no one else is better outside of the Pharaoh's own counselors." Duo paused before sadly adding, "And I could not leave here, my Prince. You know that I love you."
"But how might you define love...this is what worries me," said Quatre. When Duo did no respond, he nodded. "Very well...begin. Het-Hori..."
The Prince held out one slender arm and the body servant deftly removed his wrist and arm bands before proceeding to remove the rest of his master's jewellery.
Duo took the interlude as it was intended and moved toward his chest. It seemed to spend more time in Quatre's apartment than in his own these days. It was more convenient, certainly, but the fact that it should need to be so depressed him. He dug silently through his treasures, pulling out the dark brick of pain-numbing incense he had used on Trowa earlier that day - had it really been so recently? It seemed so long ago - along with a shaving knife and a small bowl. He set these aside and reached for a coil wrapped in thick linen. Gingerly, he unwrapped it and grasped it's smooth wooden handle.
The scorpion whip.
Few knew anything about the instrument. Its name called up images of stinging tortures...perhaps even death. These suppositions were not far from the truth, but hardly accurate. The scorpion whip was his own invention. It's length was not a biting strip of leather or even a switch of wood, but a thick and tightly woven length of cord. Dipped in pitch and thoroughly coated in rough sand, it could cause a terrible scratch, but nothing more. Perhaps Rashid could do more damage with his giant's strength, but Duo could not.
Its real power was in its treatment. The sand covered length had been soaked and resoaked, first in an irritant to make the flesh burn and then in a numbing hallucinogen. It was a tool of atonement and nothing more...it brought the spirits of the dead and the wronged near to incite guilt and an apology. The victim's apologetic blather generally supplied a clue to the appeasement of his soul. It was an extreme measure, but it had worked very well on the test subjects Duo had requested during its making. Yet something had gone very wrong when he had used it on the Prince the first time.
Quatre had enjoyed the punishment.
And so changes had been made. First to the formula and then to the method of use. It was a game now. A jest. And when he had discovered his Prince's sexual preferences, it had become an object of eroticism as well. Occasionally it seemed to work. He had seen the Prince vulnerable...more than once he had cried. But the amount of drug necessary to reach such depths generally left him without memory of the event come morning and this frustrated Duo to no end. The trick was reach a level of shame without the loss of rational thought. Too deep and memory was lost. Too shallow and Quatre would be playful at best. At worst...
At worst he became doubtful of his own power and tried to reassert it. Those were not the good nights.
Duo knew that he should simply give up. Phase out his use of the scorpion whip if Quatre would allow it or simply abandon his expectations if the Prince would not. But if he did, he would never forgive himself. He was in the unique position to know both the Prince's position and that of his people. The nome was trapped in a powerful current right now, but they had been weathering it since the time of Quatre's father and it would not take the people much longer to realize that together they could row against it. They were on the verge now. One well-aimed blow to their social order could set things in motion.
He could do it.
But he would not. He did not lie. He loved the Prince. That he hated him as well did not affect that in the least. Hated Quatre's dry and stony heart...the one that should have been his. How was he supposed to be what he was when his love of the world was too strong to be tainted even by jealousy. He would trade hearts with the Prince in a moment if it would save a soul. It was both his duty and his desire.
But with the Prince's heart, could he continue to do his job?
We live with the lots we are thrown, Duo reminded himself as he checked the flexibility of his weapon. Great God, strengthen my spine.
As little good as the whip provided, Duo knew he could not abandon it. He hoped to make the prince see what was around him before it was too late - simply being told was not enough and hazardous to the messenger's health. Every tool was valuable. And though he was loathe to admit it, he needed the sessions himself. He needed the closeness of people and he knew on some level that the Prince needed him and it was so very good to be needed.
"Priest!" said Quatre sharply. "Are you ready?"
A slow smile spread across Duo's face as he gathered up his materials and turned to face the Prince. Bare of all but his linen kilt, every trace of make-up wiped away from his face, and his downy hair in disarray, he looked more like a peasant child than nobility. Only the hard line of his mouth and the cold light of his eyes could dispel the illusion. Well, if he was still in a mood to issue orders, he was hardly in a mood to confer with the gods. "Take that off," Duo commanded cheerfully, dropping his things on a nearby table and starting to shave curls off the herbal block and into the bowl.
"What?"
Duo placed the brick and knife against the table, his hand closing around the smooth handle of the whip. "You heard me," he said firmly. "Take off your kilt." The whip snaked out, slashing across the Prince's bare legs. It did little actual damage, but a red weal raised itself where the irritants had entered the skin and Quatre hissed in surprise. With a look of irritation, the Prince reached for his belt as Duo put aside his weapon and prepared herb as he'd done for Trowa.
As the steaming smoke began to rise, he inhaled it deeply. It threaded through his body, stilling the throbbing and stinging that still crackled at his nerve endings. He breathed a sigh of carefully concealed relief and began to unwind the linen from his arms and legs, stripping off his own jewellery as he watched the Prince bare all for his inspection.
"Well?" said Quatre peevishly.
Steam wafted around Duo's face, stinging his eyes, nose, and throat. He breathed it in willingly, the dull human frailties of his body melting away. His grin twisted into something cold and his voice was harsh and dry when he spoke. "Humility, little Prince," he hissed, and the whip traced a red mark over Quatre's shoulder and chest. The Prince gasped and did not speak again though his expression remained unchanged. "This is your punishment, after all. Bow before your master."
Warily, unconsciously covering his nakedness with his hands, Quatre sized up the priest before him. Yes...at the right moments, the priest could be quite formidable indeed. Haltingly, he drew his arms up across his chest and bowed deeply from the waist.
For his part, Duo did not miss the cool calculation of the motion. He knew that Quatre was merely playing along and did not truly feel any regret. But then that is how it always began and the final outcome was never certain.
Taking the smoking bowl in hand, Duo approached the bent Prince. "Rise...breathe," he said sharply, holding out the bowl. "Speak only to answer...and answer you must. No answer or a wrong answer and you will be struck. Why are we here?"
Quatre's eyes grew wide and round in the sweetish vapour, his breath becoming more rapid as he spoke. "I am to be punished. I am to be punished...master," he amended as the whip was raised.
"What is your punishment?"
"Ten lashes with the scorpion whip...master." The word hissed from between his teeth as he inhaled the white smoke even more deeply. "Ten and ten more for every sound that I make. And then...and then you will make me powerless."
The whip snaked out across the Prince's upper thigh. "A wrong answer," said Duo with an almost eerie calm. "What is the right one?"
"I will show my regret and my humility by giving up my power," replied Quatre, hanging his head in mock shame.
He is still enjoying the game. "How will you show your humility?"
"By submitting to you like a bitch-dog, priest." A burning kiss blazed across Quatre's belly. "Master!" he corrected himself, too late.
"Why are you being punished?"
"To purify my soul."
"What have you done?"
"I..." The Prince's eyes were wilder now...stinging red from the incense. They searched the room rapidly, focussing on the flickering shadows in the corners...haunts of the dead. His reply was too long in coming and Duo reminded him of where he was with another lash across the legs. "I have caused pain."
"And what does Ma'at demand?"
"I will not cause pain."
"What else have you done? Have you stolen?"
"No." Quatre hissed as the scorpion whip grazed his back. But by now the drug within it was also at work and he began to shake. "I have stolen fathers from their families!"
"And what does Ma'at demand?"
"I will not steal!"
"What else have you done?" This time, when Quatre was slow to answer, Duo did not punish him, but took the opportunity to direct his thought. "If you do not know," he told the trembling Prince, "look to the spirits of the living and the dead. They are all around you. They scream their injustice. Hear them and tell me what you have done."
"I...I...I have stolen fathers from their families and thereby taken the food of infants from their mouths," began Quatre shakily. It was a good beginning. "I have caused pain. I have caused grief. I have spoken untrue words in my name and the name of Amun and thereby defiled the name of the gods. I have done these things for the good of Nekheb."
"And what does Ma'at demand?"
"That I do none of these things."
"Then how is it for the good of Nekheb?" said Duo quietly before a rapid flick of the wrist brought the burning cord across the Prince's cheek. Quatre gave a cry of surprise and touched his cheek, stunned. He had never been hit in the face before. "Turn around and take your punishment."
The Prince looked at him with genuine bewilderment tinged with fear...not a hint of the former coldness remained. This was no guarantee, of course. He did not plead innocence or beg for mercy, but turned around slowly, bracing his arms against his couch, a sure sign that not all of his bravado had faded. Duo knew that this could work for or against him. Perhaps regret would hit before he could go too deep. Then again...
"Now," said Duo gravely, "I will begin. Do not make a single sound." He straightened his back, pulling himself up to his full height, took a deep breath, and brought the abrasive whip down in a long slash across the Prince's back. Quatre arched his spine, but was silent. A second line traced itself into pale brown flesh, but produced no reaction save a furtive glance into the corner of the room where the shadows shifted strangely across the wall. Did the Prince feel haunted? Duo vowed that if Quatre expressed regret early enough, he would forgo the last of the punishment. Perhaps less of the hallucinogen would help fuse the memory in place.
Three strikes. Four.
The fifth produced a shuddering cry. "That will be twenty lashes total," said Duo simply, hoping that the Prince would plead for mercy. He did not, but looked again at the shadows on the wall.
Six strikes. Seven.
Quatre shuddered beneath whip, but did not break the silence until the eighth lash left an angry scrape from shoulder to tailbone. The sound was less like a cry and more like a cross between a gasp and a grunt. Duo did not like the sound of it. "Thirty lashes total," he said, self-reproach blazing within him as he heard his own voice falter.
At the ninth lash, Quatre's shuddering altered in pattern though the priest could not quite recognize it. It was not until the tenth lash brought a wave of mad laughter that he understood. "Forty lashes total," said Duo quietly.
The Prince managed to reign the discordant sound of his own amusement and did not make a single noise throughout the remaining thirty lashes.
It was not going to be a good night.
"Oh, Duo...don't sulk."
Quatre giggled almost incessantly as the effects of the incense smoke wore off. It was more childlike now...a definite improvement from the earlier, harsher laughter of the evening. Duo dared not look the Prince in the face, his head turned to watch Het-Hori as he silently cleaned up the discarded clothing and tools of enchantment. He often wondered what Het-Hori thought of their antics. Quatre never commanded him to leave the room. Duo never thought to ask him. Perhaps he was afraid he would be told. He waited a few moments more before replying. "I'm not sulking. Really."
"You are." Quatre sounded amused. "You won't look at me and you have eyes like a wounded hunting hound. What duck did you fail to catch this time?"
As the Prince put his head back down on Duo's chest, the priest could almost believe that there was love in his touch. Quatre's body was surprisingly soft for having such a hard voice. If it weren't for the condescension of a noble amused by the petty conflicts of a lower class, he might even have fallen a little deeper in love himself...and then where would he be? "You," he said truthfully, though he knew that he would be misunderstood. He was counting on it. "I failed to catch you, my Prince."
"Well aside from having to keep hopes up that I will yet marry a sister and produce another little heir, what would people think of my taking Set's priest as a consort?" laughed Quatre. "You want to be blamed for the woes of an entire nome, do you?" When Duo gave no answer, he continued. "You must enjoy pain more than I do. Speaking of which, you should be quite pleased with yourself. You performed your punishment well. My back feels like fire and biting ants - are you quite sure it won't leave a mark? - and I did submit to you."
"It's never left a mark before...it won't now. And I hardly consider screaming the order: 'Harder, faster, you great jackass!' submission."
"Yes...well...it's the letter of the thing, isn't it?" said Quatre brightly. "I did let you take me."
"And then demanded to take me. Not the best show of humility, my Prince."
"But you enjoyed it, did you not?" Duo could not deny the fact. He had enjoyed it as much as it had frightened him to death. A look have guilt must have crept into his features for Quatre pounced on it in an instant. "You see? And I could not simply submit to another. I am the Prince! What would others think of me if I simply let the Great God of my family be dominated by the Great God of another?"
"How would others know?" replied Duo drily. "We are alone." He did not point out that Het-Hori was still in the room. Servants lacked eyes, ears, and other divinatory senses as far as nobility was concerned.
"There is always some irritating soul intent on adding the clues together," said the Prince with a scowl. "But now that I have defeated you in our little wrestling match, declare the greater god before me or I will refuse to let you rise."
"You are," said Duo automatically. He was tired of the Prince's smug superiority and even more tired of having his best efforts of atonement dismissed as a sexual game.
His reply seemed to amuse the Prince. "Me?" said Quatre, sitting up somewhat to look the priest in the eye. "I am greater than your Set? Greater even than Amun?"
"To me, you are the Great God," repeated Duo coolly.
"I think I should like to hear why," said Quatre with a slight smirk. "I never turn away a compliment."
Duo lowered his eyes for a moment, lost in though. "The truly devout give the name 'Great God' to the one they worship most fully and they worship most fully the god they wish to emulate." He looked into the Prince's shining, eagre eyes for a shred of compassion or understanding and found only a curious greed. "Amun thinks nothing of toying with the lives of men and Set disrupts the order of life without pause or regret, but these are not enough for me. I shatter lives for a living, my Prince, and neither Set nor Amun is as cold and frankly heartless as you are."
He could not help laughing then - a low snicker escaped him as he bit his lip against the rest - for the Prince's eyes had gone wide, his mouth frozen in a perfect 'O' of surprise. He would have run if he had not been pinned beneath Quatre. As it was, he could do nothing but laugh all the harder when a fist struck him across the jaw.
"Out!" screamed Quatre, almost shrilly. "Get out of my sight you treasonous dog!" He tried to shove Duo out of bed then and the priest took that opportunity to make his escape. He only managed to wrapped a kilt haphazardly around his waist because the Prince paused to do the same. "Get! Out! NOW!" he howled, chasing Duo through the front room and out into the hall.
"Oy!" called Duo fighting to keep the door open. "My chest!"
"Send Seb for it tomorrow! If I see you again, I'll have you killed!" snarled Quatre, releasing the door to jar the priest loose. "Auda! Ahmed! Get rid of him!"
Duo felt two strong hands close about his arms and pull him away from the door which slammed in his face. "Does this mean you don't want me to celebrate the rites at the shrine of Asar User-Ma'at-Ra?" he shouted laughingly.
The door was yanked open a second time. "You will be there at dawn," the Prince ordered, shaking a stern finger under the priest's nose. "And if you are not, I'll have you fed to the crocodiles!" The door slammed once again.
"Sorry, Pure One," grinned Auda, releasing Duo's arm. "Orders, you know."
"With the Prince that angry, I'm surprised you haven't been exiled from the city," added Ahmed, releasing the other arm.
"He'll get over it," shrugged Duo, adjusting his kilt. "I try to be insulting enough for everyone as I'm fairly sure he still needs me. At least he hasn't threatened to burn my things. Still, it looks like I'll be sleeping in my own apartment tonight. Auda...Ahmed...a good night to you both."
Duo executed a complex bow in the direction of the two guards and cheerfully set off for his own chamber.
It was well past dawn before Trowa felt the urge to leave his apartment and face the day...or at least the showers. Part of what had kept him holed up to begin with was Tetiun's insistence that multiple washings was simply the way things were done. Having been rigorously bathed after being escorted back the night before, Trowa did not feel the least bit dirty, but this assurance was not good enough for the dedicated body servant.
As he could not spend the day in his apartment and he knew that if he tried to go about his business without at least one quick dousing he would be bombarded with subtle glares of disapproval that somehow managed to burn right into his skin, Trowa was allowing himself to be marched out to the public showers once again. They really weren't too bad when you got used to them, but they were entirely too frequent and provided too many opportunities for embarrassment. He would have to see what could be done about having his number of daily baths reduced to something more manageable...like two. Maybe three if he really worked up a sweat...
Caught up in his musings regarding cleanliness, Trowa stepped absently out into the hallway and was nearly struck down by a barefoot figure that dodged around him, long braid trailing out behind, cackling laughter filling the corridor. From its arms came a childish shriek of delight and close behind it ran a second figure. This one was slim, short-haired, female and apparently lacking any sort of propriety as she had hiked her sheath up to her knees to give chase. A little further behind again came Lady Relena, the ruffles of her looser shift allowing her slightly more legroom than Miusheri who's tight shift kept her at a mincing run.
"Duo-o-o! Bring her back! Bakara!"
"No! I need her! She's mine!"
"My daughter!"
"Hilde, grab his hair!"
"I'll make her a magician!"
"You are not corrupting Bakara!"
Trowa paused for a moment as the sounds faded then turned to Tetiun. "Did Duo just run by here?"
"Yes, Master," the body servant replied complacently.
"With three women after him?"
"Yes, Master."
"And a baby?"
"Yes, Master."
"Does this happen often?"
Tetiun paused to consider the question. "Around my former Master, Duo? Yes, Master. This or something much like it."
Trowa opened his mouth to ask for a further explanation when he caught sight of a dark figure in the direction of Heero's apartments. "Seb!" he called instead. "It is Seb, is it not?"
The dark-skinned servant jumped slightly, then bowed very low in Trowa's direction. "That is correct, prince," he said, seeming pleased to be identified by name.
"Seb, you are serving Heero and Duo, is that right?"
"That is right, prince."
At a loss for words to describe the scene, Trowa waved toward the corridor where Duo and his pursuers had vanished. "Can you tell me what...that...was about?"
Seb immediately became alert and eager to talk. "It was the strangest thing, prince!" he exclaimed, raising his hands to express confusion. "I had left Lord Heero's apartment and was passing by the Lady Relena's. The Pure One, Duo, was there delivering some incense. Khemti-Nub stepped out with a tray of empty plates and I stopped her to inform her that Lord Heero would need his removed as well. She nodded and then told me of the marketplace. It was the oddest thing, she said. One of the nobles...the Lord Kamenit... was struck by a cart overturned by its mule today!"
Trowa felt the blood drain from his face, but fought to keep his composure. "Was the man hurt?"
"He has hurt his head, but it will heal...or so says Khemti-Nub," the servant reassured him. "But the stranger thing is that the mule - sweet tempered, her owner swears - turned and bit him right on the shoulder as he was being helped to his feet! The Pure One, Duo, must have heard for he stopped talking and made Khemti-Nub repeat herself then began laughing and yelling 'The shoulder! The shoulder!' before grabbing the baby from Hilde and kissing it on the cheek. Then the women cried for her to be returned, but he ran off down the hallway shouting that she was being brought to Kom Ombo to be raised in the temple. Er..." Seb suddenly seemed to realize just who he'd been talking to and lowered his eyes. "But all of this is merely servant gossip, prince. It is of little consequence."
"No...no. You've been very helpful. Thank you, Seb," said Trowa absently, sending the servant on his way. He turned to look at Tetiun. "Well, at least Kamenit wasn't killed...although I fail to understand how the baby comes into this."
"I'm sure it's none of our affairs," offered Tetiun primly. "We were going to the showers. Cleanliness is pleasing to the gods."
"Your gods are animals," replied Trowa, falling in step beside the body servant. "How clean can they be?"
"Cats are very clean, Master," sniffed Tetiun. "Shall I bathe you with my tongue?"
Trowa bit his lip. There really was no elegant reply.
[27] "Assassin", derived from the Arabic "Hashishim", an elite type of warrior famous for their ability to feel no pain in battle due to the use of "hashish" who's less refined maternal herb makes interesting brownies.
[28] Allah was around long before Islam was thought of and had three daughters: Al'lat, Manat, and Al'Uzzah. The latter had a sacred stone (meteorite) that was later moved into the Ka'abah.
"The Prince of Nekheb" copyright A.C.Smith (aka Lady Bast), 2002. Send comments to asmith@ican.net Please do not repost or print (other than for personal use) without permission. The Gundam boys and all their paraphenelia belong to whomever currently holds the rights...I'm just borrowing them for a while. No infringement is intended, really. Really really. Please don't sue me, I have no money. If, however, you have a burning desire to hire me and PAY me money to write this kinda stuff, feel free to track me down.