Chapter 3 The Conflict

Almost three years ago...

"Dick please, let's talk about this!"

"There's nothing to talk about, Star. You want to cross this line; you go right ahead. I won't stop you. But I'm sure as hell not going to join you either."

"You act so offended by this like it offends every part of you to know I killed in the past!"

" In the past, Star! In the past! I can accept that you did what you had to do to survive. What I can't accept is you wanting to do this again! You know what happened to this family when we found out what Jason was doing, and now you want to be part of that?!"

"Jason is doing good work."

"Good? Star, he wants to take over the League of Assassins for God's sake!"

"He wants to reform them! Put them on the proper path and have them do some good in this world!"

"By killing people! They'd still be killing people! How much 'good' do you honestly think they'll be doing?!"

"You're starting to sound just like Bruce. Either everyone follows his rules exactly and therefore be considered good. Or they don't and they're a potential threat and need to be taken down. What kind of lesson is that supposed to be? What kind of man teaches that the world is so black and white?"

"The lesson is that we don't lower ourselves down to their level. That we don't end up like them while we fight them. That Bruce never ends up like the Joker and you don't end up like..."

"Like what, Richard? Like what?"

"That you don't end up like your sister!"

"...I need to say goodbye to Mar'i. When she's ready, perhaps you can teach that precious lesson to her and explain how I ended up just like Komand'r."

Starfire knocked gently on the door of her daughter's room and opened it. She saw Mar'i perched on her bed, holding a stuffed bear as tight as she could. And pretending with all her might that she didn't hear the argument in the other room. Starfire sat down on the bed next to her but when she didn't respond or even look at her, concern crept into her.

"Mar'i? Sweetie? I'm...I'm sorry you heard that. We didn't mean to upset you."

Mar'i said nothing but as her mother pulled her in for a hug she began to cry softly.

"Why are you and Daddy fighting?" she asked through the tears. "What's going to happen to you?"

"Nothing's going to happen," Starfire said soothingly, gently stroking her daughter's long mane of hair. "Sometimes...grownups have arguments and they get real mad at each other, and it takes some time before they can make up. But in the meantime, I'm going to go away for a little bit to go and help some people."

"Bad people?" Mari' asked looking up at her mother.

"No, not bad people," Starfire replied as she brushed away the stream of tears from her daughter's cheeks. "Just different people. Different than the ones we usually help."

As Starfire got up from the bed, Mar'i suddenly leaped up and wrapped her arms around her neck, burying her face into her mother's shoulder.

"I don't want you to go," she said crying again. "I want you to stay."

It hurt her to her very core, but she gently pulled Mar'i off of her.

"I wish I could stay, but this is something I need to do right now," she gave her daughter one last kiss on the forehead. "But I promise you I will be back as soon as I'm able and maybe then...Daddy and I won't be so angry with each other. Until then, know that I love you forever and ever. My little Starshine."

"Any luck?" the voice over the radio asked.

"None yet," Connor replied.

He had pressed nearly every stooge, snitch and, informant in Star City, and still nothing. No word about the planned weapons deal, no sign of Scarecrow, no nothing.

With all possible leads dried up, all that was left were the unreliable sources or the ones that could have potential information, but at great physical risk.

Which was why he was now perched atop the roof of the grimiest chop shop in the Glades, about to drop in on one of the most dangerous gangsters in the city.

"Need a hand with this?" the voice came in again.

"No need, if all goes well, there won't be any fighting at all."

"I like your optimism, but your father would never forgive me if anything happened to you. So Red and I are going to keep a lookout."

"Okay, going in."

Rappelling down the side of the building until he stopped next to a window. And with the help of a small explosive charge, broke the lock and slipped inside. The office was rather opulent in comparison to the shabbiness of the rest of the building, with oak paneling, mahogany desk, and a collection of art that was almost certainly stolen. Connor heard loud footsteps coming from the stairs right outside and even louder shouting. So he moved to the back corner of the room just as the door burst open.

"I don't give a damn what your excuse is! Either you get that order shipped out or I'm shipping you out in small boxes!"

Danny "Brick" Brickwell was aptly named, a giant of a man with brilliant, brick red skin. He cut an imposing figure even when he wasn't in a foul mood, of course, Connor had never seen him in anything but a foul mood. Muttering something under his breath, he sat down at his desk and started flipping through pages, completely oblivious to the fact that a masked vigilante was standing at the corner of his office.

"Good evening, Brick," Connor said in a genuinely friendly tone.

"JESUS!" Brick jumped, taken completely by surprise. "What the hell are you doin' here?! How'd the hell did you even get in here, Baby Arrow?!"

Plenty of people hadn't gotten used to the fact that Connor had taken over the mantle of Green Arrow, as such, he had picked up a fair share of alternative nom de guerres. Baby Arrow, Little Arrow, Green Arrow Cosplayer, and of course the ever-popular "That strange kid with a bow."

"Easy now," Connor put his hands up, trying not to make any aggressive movements. "I'm not here for a fight, I just need a few questions answered and then I'll be on my way."

"Oh, is that so?" Brick got up and moved around his desk and towards the young hero, fury in his eyes. "Well, I got a question for you, you want a coffin or cremation?"

"Daniel, please," Connor said, trying to keep his tone as even as possible. "We can be reasonable. Just answer my questions and we both walk away without any issues. No police, no fighting, no problems. I'll even forget this little operation for now, table it for another day."

"You want to table it?" Brick asked as he grabbed an end table and lifted it up effortlessly. Dropping a crystal ashtray and lamp on the ground. "How about I TABLE YOU?!"

The gigantic, red gangster chucked the end table with all his might at Arrow's head, who bent his body backward without a problem and let the piece of furniture fly overhead and smash into the side of the wall. With a roar, Brick charged at the hero, who sidestepped him easily and slid atop the desk. Brick brought both of his gigantic fists overhead, intent on smashing Green Arrow, but with another dodge and all he did was smash his desk into splinters.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THAT DESK COST?!" Brick screamed.

"We both know you didn't spend a dime on that," Green Arrow answered calmly but with a touch of sarcasm.

Brick swung wildly but missed again, punching his fist clean through one of his walls. By the time he yanked his fist out, Arrow had moved once more, this time with his back to the door.

"You wanna stop dancing around and try fightin' like a man?!" Brick growled, his body now shaking with anger.

"There are many techniques to fighting," Green Arrow replied, giving a "bring it" gesture with his hand.

With one more yell of fury, Brick charged full tilt at him. In return, Connor grabbed him by the shirt collar and lifted a leg to his torso while falling back. And using Brick's own mass and momentum, flipped him straight through the office door and sent him tumbling down the stairs until he collapsed in a heap at the feet of his dumbfounded garage workers.

"For instance," Green Arrow said. "That's called tomoe nage."

"What are you staring at, you idiots? KILL HIM!"

Snapping back to reality, the assembled thugs all dropped what they were doing and scrambled over to the tool boxes and cabinets where they pulled out guns and leveled them at the top office where Green Arrow was still standing.

"Those don't look like standard auto-repair tools," Arrow remarked, eying the machine pistol pointed at him.

"Still pretty good at fixing problems," Brick snarked, holding his hand up as his henchman readied themselves to open fire.

Before he could give the command, there was a whistling noise and the slightest tinkle of breaking glass as a red-fletched arrow shot through the window and landed in front of the assembled criminals. The shaft of the arrow blinked its lights twice and then the flash bang exploded in a flare of light and piercing noise, disorienting everyone near it.

In a few seconds Brick's vision began to recover, just long enough to see that the young vigilante had disappeared and just long enough to see two more red-fletched arrows and a crossbow bolt land in different places in the garage and release huge clouds of gas. The group of criminals coughed and hacked as they looked around frantically.

"What's goin' on?!"

"Hey, where'd Arrow go?!"

"I-cough-can't see a thing!"

"I think I got him!"

A shot rang out but to the thug's horror, all he had hit was his boss. An irritated Brick looked down at the fresh bullet hole in his suit jacket before turning his attention to the panicked shooter who dropped his gun in a silent plea for mercy.

"If I wasn't bulletproof I'd put a hole in you myself," the gangster growled as he lifted the hapless thug up by the shirt until he was eye level. "But right now I'm more pissed off at that archer so-"

Suddenly there was a surprised cry and the sounds of hits and punches as the unseen archer had taken one of the criminals down, who collapsed right next to Brick. There was a shout of alarm from the others as they began firing wildly in the direction they thought the young hero was.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE UNTIL YA SEE SOMETHING!" Brick yelled over the gunfire. "Oh to hell with this, you!" Brick waved some gas out of his face as he tossed the unfortunate lackey to the ground. "Get the doors open and get the merchandise outta here. Now!"

The terrified underling did as he was told and ran blindly towards the garage doors. Nearly slipping into the grease pit until he, at last, made his way to the control panel and opened the doors. Sighing in relief as gas poured out and fresh air poured in. Seeing their chance, two henchmen dashed into two of the parked cars and frantically started them up. Before the third man got his chance, Green Arrow leaped out from the grease pit where he was hiding and kicked the legs out from under him. Knocking him out with an axe kick to his head.

"I decided to start taking this seriously," the archer said to Brick, gesturing to the bow in his hands and the quiver now strapped to his back.

"And I'm seriously thinking about tearing you apart limb from limb," Brick growled in return. "But go ahead; you take your best shot." Brick said as he ripped a car door clean off its hinges. "And I'll take mine."

With another roar, Brick threw the door at Arrow like a discus. But the young hero easily dodged that too. Leaping over the flung projectile in an elegant corkscrew twist, while simultaneously drawing an arrow from its quiver and firing it at the infuriated villain. The arrow stuck itself to Brick's chest, beeped twice, then exploded with enough force that he was knocked backwards and fell on a tool chest, crushing it beneath his weight.

At the same time, the two drivers stepped on the gas and with a screech of the tires sped out of the garage. But no sooner did they exit when the lead driver noticed three figures blocking the gated exit. A man and two girls. The man carried a longbow and was dressed in a red and black bodysuit with one arm bare and the other with a black vambrace that went all the way up to his shoulder. The teenage blonde was dressed in all black with a matching black, leather jacket and carried a hand crossbow. And there was a young girl dressed in a red tunic with a red hood attached; she carried what looked like a smaller version of the same bow the man had.

Even as the lead car sped toward them, the three of them didn't show any sign of fear. Instead, the bowman drew two arrows from his quiver and fired them at the front wheels of the car. The arrows exploded and covered the wheels in a thick, sticky residue which caused the car to stop rather suddenly and sent the driver's head to crash against the steering wheel. Unfortunately for the driver, his head was smacked once more after the second car, unable to swerve at the first car's sudden stop, rear-ended him.

"And that, girls," Red Arrow said to the kids flanking him. "Is why you always buckle up. Okay, Canary, Hood? Have at it."

The younger of the two, Red Hood turned her attention to the second man climbing out of the car and breathing deep, fired an arrow at him. The arrow's tip popped and a thick sack inflated until it almost resembled a boxing glove and hit the would-be getaway driver square in the face, knocking him out.

The other girl turned her focus to the thug still standing at the garage doors; his face painted in disbelief at what had just happened. Pocketing her crossbow, she began to run full sprint at him, even as he was too shocked to move. He snapped back to reality just long enough to snatch a tool from the ground before he took a flying knee to the chest. While he was still catching his breath, the teenager kicked one leg out from under him and brought her elbow down on the top of his head, taking him down to his knees before finishing him off with a roundhouse kick to the head.

"This is why I love working with kids," Red Arrow said to the first driver who was coming out of a daze. "They're always so passionate about their hobbies."

The archer hit the hood of the car with his gloved hand as hard as he could, which triggered the airbags to spring up and envelop the unlucky man, who squirmed and whined for a second before giving up.

Back in the garage, with all of his thugs defeated, Brick was engaged in a long-distance battle with Green Arrow. Grabbing everything in hand to throw at the archer while trying and failing, to dodge the various arrows shot at him. But the two were locked in a stalemate, Brick couldn't get close enough to the young vigilante, and none of Connor's arrows were doing any damage to the gangster. And Brick was aware of that.

"Sooner or later you're gonna run out of arrow," he taunted. "But I haven't run out of fist. And when I get a hold of you you're gonna feel them!"

"Good thing we brought spares!" Red Arrow called as he, Red Hood, and Black Canary launched another salvo at Brick.

Brick shielded himself as best he could from the barrage of exploding, boxing glove, and other trick arrows, stopping only when a pair of taser arrows hit and electrocuted him. After the volley stopped he brushed himself off and chuckled evilly at the group of heroes.

"You know, you punks have a lotta neat tricks up your sleeves. But at the end of the day, you're doing nothin' but shooting fancy sticks from a Renaissance prop. So shoot whatever you want. We both know you ain't got nothing that can hurt me."

"You know, you may be right, Brick," Green Arrow replied.

"That's why we brought her," Red Arrow said, motioning to Black Canary.

The girl in black stepped forward, cracked her neck, and screamed at the overgrown criminal. The sound waves that issued from her mouth shattered every piece of glass in the garage as well as Brick's eardrums, who staggered back as he covered his ears and roared in pain. The pain was so great that he didn't even know he was backing right into the grease pit until he fell in. Red Arrow gave a gesture and Black Canary ceased her cry while Red Hood nocked an arrow and let it loose at Brick. This arrow didn't explode but instead released a stream of foam that filled up the pit and rapidly encased Brick until only his head and the tips of his fingers were exposed. At this, Brick resumed his screams of frustration.

"MY EARS!" he shouted at Black Canary. "I'M GONNA HAVE TINNITUS YOU CRAZY B-"

"Beg your pardon," Green Arrow interrupted, tapping Brick's head with his foot. "But I still have some questions that I was hoping you could answer."

Brick let out a long, drawn-out growl as he tried to turn his head and face Green Arrow. "When I break out of this, I'm so gonna-"

"You're not breaking out of that any time soon." This time it was Red Arrow's turn to interject. "That's high-density polyurethane foam and you have no leverage. So why don't you take a breath, take a moment, realize just what kind of hopeless situation you're in, and answer the kid's question?"

Brick glared as best he could before sighing. "Whadda ya want to know?" he grumbled at Green Arrow.

"You know about Scarecrow? Mad scientist, who likes to make fear gasses? He's made some pretty bad stuff, the kind that kills people quickly and gruesomely and he wants to sell it on the black market. We know there's plenty of interest, we know the when but we need to know the where. So what do you know?"

"I don't know nothin'," Brick sniffed derisively.

"Oh, bull," Black Canary growled, squatting down so she could glare directly at his face. "We know about what you sell: stolen merchandise, drugs from the White Syndicate, high-tech weapons. You sell anything and everything illegal, you expect us to believe that someone who deals contraband all over the West Coast doesn't know anything about this?"

"Damn right," he retorted. "Because you overlooked two key points, Blondie. One, my clientele, I sell to street punks lookin' for a taste of power or rich pricks who want something they can't get. You think some spoiled one-percenter is gonna jump from boosted Ferraris to chemical weapons? And two, I don't sell anything that could possibly kill me!"

Black Canary squinted her eyes and took a deep breath as if preparing to scream again.

"I'm serious!" Brick panicked. "Look, I'm bulletproof, bomb proof, knives bounce off me and lasers just give me a mild burn. But I got no defense against crap like that, so I stay away from it."

"So who would want something like that?" Black Canary asked.

"I don't know!" Brick replied. "Well-funded terrorist, masks with more money than sense. Look, you're the superheroes, you figure it out!"

Red Arrow coughed and beckoned the younger heroes over to him where they huddled up.

"I don't trust him," Black Canary grumbled.

"Well that's smart, I don't trust him either," Red Arrow responded. "But just because he's untrustworthy doesn't mean he's lying."

"I hate to give him this, but he does have a point," Green Arrow sighed. "He's an unrepentant thief and criminal, but I can't imagine him selling anything like that. It's…too big for someone like him."

"So we still don't know anything then?" Red Hood asked, voicing what everyone else was dreading.

For a moment, no one said anything, just quietly reflected on their lack of success. The sound of sirens in the distance snapped them back to reality.

"Well then," Red Arrow said with a forced smile. "Good work everyone, but I think we should leave cleanup to the cops."

"Hey, wait a second!" Brick protested from his foam prison. "Baby Arrow said that if I answered his questions there wouldn't be any cops involved!"

"Sorry Daniel," Green Arrow said. "But that offer was taken off the table when you threw that table at me. Perhaps in the future, you'll consider negotiating before fighting."

The quartet of heroes exited the garage, leaving Brick behind to scream a procession of loud pleas and incoherent curses.

The Quiver (formerly known by the regrettable title, "The Arrowcave") was modest in comparison to many secret hideouts and bases. Formerly an underground garage, it was upgraded with advanced surveillance tech, specialized gear for training, and enough medical equipment to deal with nearly any emergency. It had neither the ostentatious grandeur of the Watchtower nor the gloomy décor of the Batcave. Its design was basic but functional, which was what Oliver Queen preferred.

He watched as the four young heroes piled out of Red Arrow's SUV, Black Canary walked past her father without so much as a glance while her older half-brother waited dutifully to speak while Red Arrow finished talking with his daughter.

"You did great tonight, honey. You really did," Red Arrow said to her, who was beaming with joy. "Just be careful with those foam arrows. If it gets into a person's nose or mouth, they could suffocate."

The young girl's eyes went wide in horror at the prospect at that and she audibly gulped.

"But that's why we practice," her father added hastily. "So that we can avoid mistakes like that. And that's why we put those practices to use in the field, to see how well we know them. You did great tonight, so don't let the worries of what could go wrong discourage you."

As Red Arrow knelt down to talk with his daughter so more, Oliver decided not to wait and spoke to Connor.

"So no luck then?" he asked.

"None. I fear we may not have any more sources of potential information here; perhaps we should expand our search to San Francisco or Emeryville? Maybe we can lean on one of the Tongs, see if they know anything."

Oliver sighed and began to pace, before going back to grab his cane. "I've got the nasty feeling we'll just run into the same answer, but it's worth a shot."

Red Arrow finished his pep talk and went to join the other adults as his daughter wandered off.

"And there's something else I wanted to talk about," Oliver said to the two of them. "And maybe you can get through to Olivia, Roy. Now that she's entered the 'I'm too cool to talk to my own dad' phase, trying to hold a conversation is like climbing a mountain."

"What do you want us to talk about?" Connor asked tentatively, fairly sure he knew where this was going.

"I just want you to reconsider your costuming options, try out that body armor I got you."

Connor attempted to control his sigh, Roy didn't even bother.

"Father," Connor rarely used that term unless it was in the more delicate of moods. "We talked about this, I'm grateful but it slows me down too much. I work better when I'm lighter and faster."

"And what I've got works well for me," Roy said, patting his chest with his gloved arm.

"What you've got won't stop a rifle," Oliver said to Roy. "And it doesn't matter how light or fast you are, just one good blow could put you in traction for a year."

"Brick couldn't even touch me,"

"There'll be other threats more dangerous than Brick. Ones stronger and faster than him and when you get hit-"

"The best defense is to not be there when the blow lands. As long as I'm prepared, I can-"

"Damnit, Connor. Would you put the warrior philosophy aside and just listen for once?!"

The room went silent after that, no one daring to speak.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said quietly, measuring his breath. "I know you're an adult now and you can make your own choices. But I was like you once, young and invincible, until the day when I wasn't. And I don't want either of you looking like me or worse by the time you turn fifty."

He then turned his attention to Roy. "And I know you're pretty cavalier towards your own life, and I know I'm to blame for a lot of that. But you're not extending that same attitude to your daughter now are you?"

"She's learning archery because it's what she wants," Roy answered coolly. "I'm teaching her to fight at a distance so she doesn't end up close to that danger. I have no intention of letting her end up like us."

"Hoping that this is just a temporary thing? Or that she drops out of it like Mia or Cissie?" Oliver asked. "Because we know that what we hope for rarely happens like we want it to."

No one said anything after that, the three men just stood there and considered what was said. Then to break the tension, Connor spoke up again.

"I will…consider your offer, Father. Perhaps I'll use the body armor during my training; see how well I can adjust to it."

Connor then left the room right as Oliver turned to say something, leaving him to sigh once more.

"When did I become old and grouchy?" he asked.

"You're not old and grouchy, Ollie," Roy said sympathetically. "We're all just too stubborn for our own good. Being hard-headed makes us good crime fighters, but a little disagreeable at times."

"It's not just that, I think I might be…overcompensating lately and that's just pushing you kids further away," Oliver replied.

"What do you mean?" Roy asked, as the two of them exited the Quiver and made their way into the old Queen family mansion.

"Let's face it, I didn't do the best job raising you, Roy. I didn't even raise Connor at all and Olivia; raising girls is a whole other mess much less moody teenagers. I just wish I could find some kind of parenting balance instead of going overboard all the time."

Roy placed a hand on Ollie's shoulder and gave him a friendly smile. "You're a good man, Ollie. And what else can parents do but muddle our way through things?"

In contrast to the simplicity of the secret hideout beneath its foundations, the Queen Estate was quite opulent. The old stonework and darkened walnut wood fixtures gave it an almost castle-like appearance. But the opulence wasn't what Lian Harper was interested in, but rather the kitchen where a victory popsicle awaited her. Sitting at the table, she happily sucked on the cherry-flavored, frozen treat (any red drippings wouldn't show up on her costume) and was soon joined by Olivia with a can of soda. Olivia was scrolling through her phone with her earbuds on, Lian could hear some kind of music playing but she couldn't make it out.

"What'cha listening too?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Olivia looked up, slightly surprised at the young girl's question, though she shouldn't have been. Ever since she was a baby Lian had this need to talk and engage with people.

"It's called Dearest Devastation, it's pretty hardcore but it's really authentic with its emotion," the teenager said, popping one earbud out. "You know, really diving into the core of humanity's soul and how we treat each other."

"We're having a sleepover this weekend at the Wayne house, everyone's going to be there."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah, me, Mar'i, Irey, Jai, even Damian is gonna be there. Do you wanna come?"

Olivia gave a wry smile. "I don't know, being around that many kids, feels like I should get babysitting fees."

"You wouldn't have to babysit," Lian said, missing the point. "I know Alfred is gonna be there and Helena too! I'm hoping she teaches us some moves, doesn't that sound fun?"

Olivia paused mid-sip and considered for a moment. "Does sound like fun," she said quietly before shrugging it off. "Sorry, Lian. But that's not my thing. But have fun anyway."

"Hey, can I listen to that?" Lian asked, pointing at the other earbud.

"Yeah," Olivia said before noticing their fathers enter the room. "No," quickly shifting gears. "Sorry, but this is a little more hardcore than you're ready for."

Seeing a rare chance with his daughter, Oliver spoke up. "Oh, Olivia, we've been talking about protection-"

"Gross."

"Not that kind of protection, but body armor. And I know you're a meta, but I was hoping we could talk about-"

"I dunno, kind of tired right now," Olivia cut him off with a gulp of soda and left the half-finished drink on the table. "Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"Yeah we can, it's just-"

"Thanks. G'night dad."

And without another word, she cranked up the volume on her music and headed upstairs to her room. Roy turned his attention to his own daughter.

"Lian, did you ask before you took one of those popsicles?"

"Yes."

"Olivia doesn't count."

"Can I have this?" she asked Oliver, pointing to her popsicle that was more stick than it was treat.

Oliver just gave a thumbs up and sat down heavily on a kitchen chair, massaging a knee.

"I used to make fun of guys like Bruce for all those ridiculous costumes he had," Oliver grunted. "Never thought I'd wish I had followed his example, at least worn some padding. Which reminds me," he directed his attention to Lian. "At the sleepover, don't let Bruce's little brat boss you around."

"Ollie," Roy chided. "We're supposed to be better than that. Still, this sleepover will be nice. Mia and I have Group that night and you never know how long those will go."

Lian finished her popsicle and stared at the sick idly. It didn't feel like a victory treat despite taking down the bad guy.

"Did we fail tonight?" she asked her father.

Roy looked down at his daughter, the resemblance to her mother was strong. But while Jade always had a sinister air about her, even when playing innocent, Lian showed nothing but innocence and exuberance; it's what made her so popular among the adults back when she was a baby and why she got along so great with Dick's daughter, she was a kindred spirit. This look of introspective concern was unlike her, and worrisome.

"No sweetie," her father pulled her in for a hug. "Honestly, we're no better or worse off than we started. Just because Aunt Dinah didn't find anything and we didn't find out anything doesn't mean other people didn't. The League is a big team and we only covered a small part of things. I'm sure they found some clues even if we didn't. And if not, well, we still have a week to figure things out."

Apologies for the tardiness of this new chapter, I had other projects I was working on, writer's block and good old fashioned procrastination getting in the way. Anyhow, hope you enjoyed this look into the Arrow family dynamic. There was more I wanted to include but this section went on longer than I expected. So you'll just have to wait for the next chapter.