Chapter Text
Leith Pierre exhaled, a large plume of grey smoke escaping his mouth. The cigarette he was smoking shortened down to a stubby roll. It was a habit Leith had inherited from his father, the memories of the man a cold, distant thing. It seemed to him the distance only grew wider and stronger when the past memories of his father, with violent, rugged hands, dragged him by his hair, a knee lifting and punching Leith harshly on the stomach. He clutched his abdomen at the memory, his pristine, white, button up shirt crinkling at the edges. He remembered, he was fourteen and had enough of the man’s drunk bitching. He fought back, stopped being a pussy, Leith was kneed in the stomach for it.
He was now in his 50s. Age has changed him, he wasn’t the naive, troublesome fourteen year old anymore. Wrinkles folded in his skin, eyebags weighing down under his grey eyes. His hair, a dark brown black, slightly peppered in speckles of white on the sides. He grew up with ambitions, being one of few genius minds scoped out by Elliot Ludwig. Pierre would like to say that he achieved the future he wanted.
Yet the thought of the successor of the great Elliot Ludwig, one of the new innovative minds behind Playtime Co, Leith Pierre, getting beaten by his own son of a bitch father, he imagined how everyone beneath him would react to that. Bitter chuckle leaving his lips at the thought. No matter, it wasn’t of importance who he was before, he is now in control. And his father was the fucker burried ten feet underground in an unknown grave, not him. Pierre took a few strides away from the window in his office and tapped the cigarette he was pinching between his index and middle finger, leaving it against the edge of the ashtray that sat atop his desk.
With his now free hands, he raked a hand through his dark hair and gazed at the abandoned paperwork on his desk. His office was large and decorated. Of course it was, Awards and achievements were plastered around the wall, a few trinkets placed in bookshelves, and others framed proudly on his desk. The very front of the room showed a massive arched door framed in the very middle of the nude beige walls. Familiar childish red, blue and yellow patterned tiles followed into his office.
His office was the testament for all the great things he has accomplished. It was because of the hours of business deals and trades he did with the investors of the company that Playtime Co is seeing an increase of profit and purchases recently. The company had been in the past constantly underneath all their purchasing goals and profit margins. It was only this past year that business had recently begun to skyrocket. Leith pushed a plush emerald chair and sat down to face his desk. His chin tilting down, examining the mess of papers scattered throughout his desk. Most papers on his desk regarded the yearly taxes the company had to pay, employee salaries, and the supply and demand of the company's yearly toy production .
Yet some papers on his desk featured that signature loopy handwriting on lightly yellowed and frayed lined paper. Sawyer had to even write like a fancy asshole. The chemical feeling of the documents could be almost distinguished. There was a reason that most employees who work in the lab wear protective gear. He hoped this wasn't Sawyer's way of indirectly poisoning him, he wouldn't be surprised if it was. Leith would never admit it, too proud to say it in front of the doctor, the bigger bodies initiative was so far successful. The company's sales were increasing, and many few actually found out what was going on underneath all the childish nonsense they sold.
Most of the time if there were employees who found out, like the Brickley guy recently, it was easy enough to dub them as crazed lunatics, individuals who worked far too much. If there ever happens to be an outspoken employee, murdering them was always an option. The workers at Playtime Co tended to be more useless than useful on most days. Boxy would probably be salivating for more meat to dig into anyways. With one more look at the papers on top of his desk, he reached for the pen that was laying on the side of the table, burying himself in his work. A man like him had actual important work to do, unlike the majority of expendables in this company.
….
As the head of innovation here at Playtime Co, and an active participant in the Bigger Bodies initiative. His job entailed variety, he very rarely worked with lower level employees, sure he consulted scientists, talked with a few workers in the IT department of the company, and sent work satisfaction letters to construction workers. But Leith's job also included interviewing the workers who complain about the strange occurrences they notice while working at Playtime. A rotten smell? Someone's lunch must've been sitting in the fridge for far too long. Non human entities spotted walking around? You must be sleep depraved! Playtime Co. will give the rest of the day off! (The time spent on leave will NOT be paid).
Which brings him into the predicament he is in right now. Leith sat in a room across from an employee who looked to be around his early 20s, a singular white table keeping them separated from each other. The worker wore the uniform every lower level playtime co worker wears. A crinkled bright yellow button up shirt, dark denim jeans and signature black lanyard. Leith could tell the shirt wasn't ironed by the messy fabric streaks that covered the linen material. ‘Did the man not have a wife to do the job for him?’ he shrugged that thought to the back of his mind.
Employees were usually required to wear their lanyards to identify themselves and to state which department they worked in, in this particular situation, the employee had only the keycard access to the unit that stored grab packs. Suggesting that he was most likely a lower level construction worker or a mid level engineer. That was Leith's guess anyway, as his eyes trailed to the man’s neck to follow the black twine of the lanyard, he watched as smooth flesh peaked out from within the man’s shirt. The worker's Adam's apple bobbing, up and down.
Pierre followed the dark line of the keycard from the man's neck, down to his stomach where it stopped. The top of the card holder broken, sharp plastic stopping the card where his name should’ve been presented in Playtime Co’s bubbly childish font. Leith leaned back in the chair he was sitting on, broad shoulders relaxing, and his arms that were once resting against the table crossed against his chest.
“You should request for a new keycard you know!” he chuckled, pearly incisors emerging from his lips.
The man sitting in front of him looked at him blanky, and simply shrugged.
No response was given to Leith.
His smile fell.
Pierre uncrossed his arms, and his hands outstretched to grab the bright yellow file sitting neatly atop the white table. His fingers thumbed the papers that contained the worker’s information. In the top corner was a picture of the employee, a hesitant smile spread across his features and locks of messy hair sticking out in certain places. He wore the same yellow shirt and black lanyard. Beneath the picture was where his name was supposed to be written, black printer ink had smudged the document, making the words spelling out the man's name unintelligible.
He mentally scoffed. His eyes trailed further down the paper, and a particular section on the company file caught his attention. Underneath the accommodations section, written in bold text, was a revelation that made everything much more understandable to Pierre. He was a mute. Leith surveyed the employee, and it was then he noticed the notepad and pen that laid in front of the employee.
“Ah… My apologies- I didn’t know you were a mute.”
The workers' form stiffened, and Leith could see the shift of facial expressions, features switching from relaxed impassiveness to stiff confusion. The man furrowed his brows, and the straight line that formed his lips changed into a scowl of cringe. The man’s hand reached to grab the notepad on the table, while the other hand gripped his pen. He opened the book from the middle, and began to furiously write something with clear vigor.
Leith waited patiently.
‘I’m not ‘a mute’, I can’t speak, a person of your stature should know that.’ The hand writing was scrawled quick, yet pointedly neat, as if the man was used to writing quite fast.
“Watch it,” Leith bit back. “I’m not underneath firing an employee like you.” his words poised with venom, the faux politeness melting out from the tip of his tongue. Pierre dropped the files and his hands positioned to rest against the table, he could feel the coolness of the surface grazing his skin.
“Your position here at Playtime Co can easily be terminated,” he continued, piercing gaze still fixed on the other man. His eyes trained him up and down once more, similar to how one would look at an insignificant roach. “I can’t imagine it would be easy finding another job given your…. condition.” he added, every word slipping out dripping with a thick layer of gloat and cruelty.
The man in front of him gripped the pen he was holding harder, his knuckles clenched tight and balled. Pierre wouldn’t be surprised if a few rivulets of blood slipped out of his fingers, as nails pinched into skin. The notepad he man held on his other hand bending in a ferocious grip of anger. The atmosphere in the room was tense, If the employee’s looks could maim, the table would've had a glairing hole piercing through the middle. Leith only stared, his face holding the same smug expression, bored eyes and relishing smile. Now that, that was the look he loved to see on those below him. The hidden scowl, the sheer powerlessness of the situation, the blistering anger.
Leith had a hunch that the man in front of him knew that he had a valid point. The ADA act might’ve been passed three years ago, but individuals still held judgemental beliefs, laws might’ve changed, but human nature rarely did. Humanity and always isolating those who were an ounce different. Many companies wanted workers who were capable and normal. It could be months until the man in front of him had another job offer. And as it stood, the worker understood that as well. His eyes were downcast, yet held a look of defiance. He gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement.
“Now, as that is out of the way-” Pierre started once again, his arms shifting to the side to lug up a boring, grey, square shaped VHS recorder. Lighter grey buttons of various sizes speckled the sides of the machine and a single wired plug point was attached to the very back. He pressed the larger lighter gray button, and the machine began to slowly whirr a gentle hum.
“Do I have your consent to record this session?” the executive questioned, The person sitting across from Leith raised a singular questioning brow.
“It’s company policy to record interviews such as these.” He explained, arms resting at his sides.
A hesitant, yet curt nod came from the employee as his eyes shifted to look Leith in the eyes. It was then, Pierre came to the realisation that he did not like it when individuals in a lower status than him didn’t cower before his presence in fear. The addition of fear made it primal, akin to a hunt. Like a wolf stalking a sheep, every small muscle spasm the sheep undergoes a gamble against its own life. Every twitch of bone closer to triggering a sick game of cat and mouse, of predator and prey. Pierre would be the one to reduce the man to a quivering sheep.
“So,” he began, clearing his throat before continuing, "Management tells me that you’ve been writing these…. interesting stories about hearing loud cries when fixing the maintenance vents down at the docks.” Leith finished his sentence, recognizing the shuffling pages of the man’s notepad opening, familiar scribbling echoing in the room.
“I’m not crazy, I know what I heard.”
“And what exactly did you hear?”
The worker flipped to another page. He wrote on his notepad with vigor. There were times when the sound of scrawling paused, only to continue again a few seconds later.
“Screaming, loud screams. They were horrific, someone had to be in pain or hurt, This can’t be shrugged off like nothing. Something bad is happening, and I'm sure of it.”
Leith let out a large sigh. This wasn't a very pleasant situation, he supposes it was time to spout bullshit in the hopes that the worker believed him. There was a feeling in Pierre's gut that this worker would take far more effort to convince than that idiotic Brickley guy.
“We make children's toys nothing more,” he started. Lieth was going to have a long conversation with Sawyer now. This was his next job in his already too long to-do list, he couldn't imagine the conversation with the scientist ending peacefully, Harley had a special ability to make everyone's life more aggravating and difficult. Hell, he might even make sure his little pet projects were louder when the next experimentation processes take place.
“You're making this a bigger deal than it actually is, the screams could've been anything-”
A low bewildered huff escaped the employee, cutting Leith’s reasoning short. The man shuffled and grabbed his notepad once more.
“Please, what could the screams possibly have been then.”
“For starters the vents in the docs have tunnel systems that run all over the factory,” Pierre’s face shifted, the corner of his lips quirking upwards, a sly smirk pervading his face. He wondered how the worker would look floundered, confidence positively ripped out of him.
“That includes the bathrooms, maybe you heard a couple going at it-” The pen the worker held curtly around his fingers clattered to the floor loudly. Leith would be lying if he said he felt any sympathy for the clearly appalled man in front of him. The chair the employee sat on screeched loudly against the floor, the worker stood on two legs, hands stretched across the expanse of the table to tower over Pierre. Leith could feel the man's breath fanning against his face. His irises dilating with anger, jaw clenched tight as the executive noticed the red flush of anger spreading across the employees cheeks, trailing downwards towards his neck.
The man looked dialectable.
“Easy now, you’re awfully close to making me do something you would very much regret.”
Pierre felt the man’s warmth in front of him. A singular unseemly action from the worker, and he would personally make sure he was nicely digesting in Boxy’s stomach. That scenario would really be such a shame, it would be such a waste of a pretty face.
The worker gave him a scathing glare, and turned to exit the room. Before the man could take another step toward the door, Leith's hand curled around his wrist in a tight grip, not firm enough to bruise, not yet. Pierre stood up, edging over the table, taking confident, powerful strides. His target stood a few centimeters away, looking oh so confused and deliciously infuriated. He passed the table that separated them the entire duration of the interview, and stood in front of the man. Leith was a foot taller, his shoulders wider, and his hands larger. But the man beneath him could not be described as small. He was well built, judging by muscles that rippled under the yellow taut shirt, biceps bulging. His chest, plumpy yet muscular.
The entire time Leith held the man’s wrist, the employee flexed his arms in an attempt to pull his hand back; he would’ve succeeded if not for the executives pure determination.
“I’ve said this once, and I'll say it again, we are a toy company.”
Leith stepped closer, the employee shuffled back in discomfort, attempting to create distance between them.
“You must’ve heard something else down at the docks,” He took another step forward, the employee once again stepping backwards, the executive only watching as the door collided with the man's back. He was cornered, like a rat in a maze. Leith practically pinned him against the door, he liked the look of defiance the man in front of him had, it would only make it that much sweeter when he broke the man. He could envision it; the workers eyes overflowing with powerless, angry tears, fear overdosed on his features.
“I would ask you to repeat what I just said, but….” Leith paused, a grin splitting across his features, one of self satisfaction and twisted delight.
“I bet you couldn't do that anyways.”
He dropped the man's wrist from his grip, both hands nearing the man's uneven shirt collar. The employee flinched back in an attempt to evade Leith’s physical contact, pushing himself against the door, leaning against the surface like a lifeline. All to escape from the executive in front of him. Leith ignored his frenzied reactions, finger reaching out to caress the crumpled linen fabric of the workers shirt. Straightening the ruffles out, observing as the once messy and rough shirt slightly smoothed before his fingers. Pierre’s hands dropped to his sides.
“Now, get out of my sight.”
Any more words between the men didn't need to be exchanged. The employee before him grabbed the door handle and pushed, eyes still focused on Leith, he scrambled away with the little gap that showed. Freeing himself from the confines of the suffocating room and Pierre’s suffocating presence. And like that, the executive was again left alone to sink into his own thoughts, he scrutinised the wall the worker was pinned against. This interview had been problematic, regular Playtime Co employees could not find out about the bigger bodies initiative.
He had to get rid of this prying insect. After the other guy, Brickley, saw 1174 underneath the innovation wing gate, he was shortly ah- “fired” afterwards for his substandard performance in work. In reality, the man wouldn’t shut up about what he saw, always babbling away to his co-workers about “the large thing with a dozen legs.” His strong Irish accent, curling together when he described the way the monster had eyes as black as coal.
Leith sighed for the umpteenth time today, massaging the bridge of his nose to quell the oncoming headache he was sure would pummel his brain today. His head had already started to feel the beginnings of the migraine. And for the love of god he needed a smoke. The man had finally made the decision to put this mishap on the list of Sawyers fuckups he needed to clean up. He would patiently wait and asses his next steps with the employee, perhaps he could use the situation to his advantage.
He wondered how the man would look underneath him.
…
It wasn't a common occurrence, having the emergency alarm ring in the factory. The last time it occurred was when 1170 managed to escape through an open bay delivery door. Leith thought it was a miracle that the commotion hadn’t caused any suspicions from the authorities. He remembered the paper work, the incident reports and the repairs he had to plan for. Half of Playtime Co’s initial term planning for 1992 was screwed up because of the damned experiment's escape.
So when the alarm rang, Leith knew it rang, everyone in the near vicinity of Playtime knew it rang. For the lower level employees, the loud thing was disguised as an insistent fire drill, the lie procured employees to evacuate the factory from the fire exit nearest to them. Leaving the building empty, the workers were not privy to the notion of what actually occurred was an asset that had breached its containment.
He was there when it rang the first time, and Leith remembered it like it happened yesterday.
Eerie blaring red light covering the lower level floors, and the loud echoes of an alarm ringing continuously in the background refusing to pause, even for a second. Those days were the busiest for individuals as important as him. The second after Huggy escaped, three minutes had to have passed before their own survival team, armed to the teeth with guns and ammunition, was sent out to retrieve the monster.
Five individuals had died on June 18th 1992. The paperwork he had to manage for those employees were extensive, and he wasn’t looking forward to filing those reports again anytime soon.
So when the alarms had begun to ring, close to a year after the containment incident with Huggy Wuggy, Leith had immediately excused himself from the conference he currently attended regarding progress reports, a few representatives from warrenbach construction present. He rushed past colorful muraled halls, the walls mixing into a blur of hues from the pace he was running in. He pushed past confused workers slowly making their way down the fire escape. When he reached the doorway to the executive offices, he slammed his omni hand on the scanner.
Familiar poppy coloured lights permeated through the expanse of the office. Apparently he was the last one to arrive. Eddie, and Miss Grayber stiffly stood in front of their chairs, Leith had known both well enough to understand there was a disagreement between the two.
Harely sat on his chair, a snarl of disgust permeating in his features, presumably directed at Greyber. Leith straightened his tie, and patted down the suit he was wearing, running had crinkled his usually pristine attire.
The door behind him closed with a slide, alerting the three executives of his presence.
“Ah Leith, there he is-” Ritterman started, stepping a few steps away from Greyber.
“So you three are going to just let this happen?” the woman interrupted.
“He was trying to save a kid who was afraid,” she quivered, her voice lowering a few decibels. A sarcastic scoff came from Sawyer's direction. Stella had always been the most empathetic of the four, Leith believed she was akin to the single angel in playcare's shoulder accompanying the three devils. And even then, she was an angel with more than a few screws loose.
“He doesn't deserve to die like this, isn't there a way we could keep him alive?”
It was then that Harley had finally decided to speak up, his British accent crimping around his words, weighing them down with an added bonus of sarcasm.
“Greyber, It had occurred to me you were naive, but not naive to the extent you're conveying now.” He replied, clicking his tongue at her with annoyance.
“You are aware of the fact he disposed of Experiment 1223.”
Leith looked at the scientist with disbelief, if his grimace could get any worse, it was then it worsened. Experiment 1223 was a violent thing, his unpredictable personality rivaled that of its predecessor. While mommy-long-legs was allowed to hold a position at the Game Station, 1223 was kept down below, caged, kept as a work in progress. Level three conditioning had begun with the creature, and it had taken a year for the beast to respond to such conditions. And now that work was useless, all the money spent on the experiment was as useful as manure.
“But he saved the-”
“Everyone, quite.” Eddie interrupted just as Stella began. The man’s voice was cold and demanding. Only Ritterman could silence an entire room by simply speaking.
“I believe I was addressing Leith, Miss.Greyber.” The woman's mouth closed, and opened once more, before closing again, she almost resembled a fish out of water. Her face finally rested into a frown, and she sat back down against the office chair that was behind her.
Leith took a few steps towards the room, and almost immediately felt the confining tension in the room. He approached the trio, uneasy aura only rising. Pierre could tell something significant had taken place, with the emergency alarm ringing, Ritterman, Grayber and Sawyer in argument, 1223 supposedly being “disposed” and the scientist even caring enough to actually join the meeting. He had a gut feeling that this was more than an asset escaping.
“Eddie, what happened?” Leith finally asked, the other tiredly sighed. His chin twitching slightly, as he began the walk to his chair, his cane creating a soft thud on ceramic patterned tile with every step he took. Leith followed Ritterman deeper into the office and placed himself down on the seat that was opposite of facing Sawyer. Eddie leaned his cane against the table and gathered a file that appeared haphazardly put together, placing it pristinely in front of him and revealing its contents.
“Today at 2:00PM CST, a lower level Playtime Co employee broke into the viewing room for the experiments, he subsequently broke the two way mirrors and took Experiment 1589, a child in the early stages of experimentation, and fled with him.”
Eddie passed the papers over to Sawyer.
Leith's mouth gaped partly as he stared at Eddie with a layer of disbelief veiling his usually stoic face. How could an individual manage such a feat? The viewing rooms were one of the most single handedly guarded rooms in Playtime Co. Any unauthorised personnel near the vicinity of the room would get shot immediately, most rooms relating to the Bigger Bodies Initiative were like that. Did the intruder manage to…. escape the factory with the child?
“Has the security team been sent to capture this…. Individual yet?” Leith asked.
“While the worm was scurrying about aiming to save the poor experiment, an imbecile during the chaos had the brilliant idea to release experiment 1223 to chase after him.” Sawyer answered. Adjusting his glasses to the bridge of his nose as he peered into the file with fascination. It was a look Leith recognised, a gaze of curiosity. A rather unsettling, yet familar look that Sawyer gave to his experiments. Both brows scrunched together and his mouth slightly ajar.
Had 1223 apprehended the employee and child? only to soon flee the factory after all the bloodshed? It was a passing thought in his head, before he realised such a situation was not possible. 1223 had been apprehended, the experiment hadn’t had the mercy of escaping.
Before Leith had the chance to open his mouth and ask Sawyer to continue, the scientist had already begun to speak.
“The employee decommissioned 1223 while simultaneously carrying 1589 in his arms,” Harley paused for a moment, as he closed the file and tossed it towards his direction, it landed on the table in front of Leith with an echoing thud. He could only gawk at the flash of yellow that appeared in front of him, he had trouble believing what he heard was the truth. Before today, he thought it impossible to kill one of those things without heavy ammunition or an army of men. It’s because Leith was aware, he examined the thing in action, he was invited to It’s primary testing and he couldn’t forget the beast.
The manner in which the monster could climb hallways that seem to reach the sky in mere seconds, the violence as it ripped animals apart with hands alone, long blue tendrils of limbs wrapping around the poor pig that was used as bait, squeezing the life out of it as it snorted, whined and continued screeching. It appeared to take satisfaction from toying with the animal before its long limb appeared and ripped the thing in half. Gore and viscera mixed with blue, an immiscible combination as it continued to tear into pink flesh.
“Decommisson? As in, he managed to kill it?” Leith questioned. Past memories of the violent, ferocious monster overtaking his brain.
It was Eddie who answered with a twitch. “Apprently the sonovabitch’ outran the thing, and when 1223 found itself stuck under a gate, he took the killing move.”
The room was silent for a moment, before Stella with all her nauseating emotions and sympathy began to speak up. The woman remained quiet throughout the entirety of Harley's and Eddie's summary of the disaster, her eyes downcast at their reconstructions and a look of apprehension present on her features, perhaps even the traces of concern.
“They made their way further downwards to the emergency exit located in the labs, before security got to them and held them at gunpoint……” she trailed off, he could see her knuckles on the table clenching, perhaps with frustration.
“The security force has him in custody, he was just concerned for the child Leith, he’s a good person.” Her gaze darted to him, and her eyes conveyed the useless distress she felt for the stranger. There were times that Stella Greyber perplexed Leith Pierre. This was one of those times, for someone who cares about children so much, he almost found the hypocrisy of the woman being aware, and an active participant in the bigger bodies initiative a sick joke.
He decided to not respond to the woman's pleas. He picked the file up, examining the rough cardboard in his hands before flipping the cover.
The thickness of the file was sparse, a total of four thin pages creating the majority of its contents. The first sight to greet him was a grey polaroid picture of a young boy, lines of text containing information about the experiment underneath the photograph in the corner. From his birth parents, blood type, to the sex of the child and his medical records.
Matthew Edward Leslie, age eight. His parents having passed due to domestic disputes, the boy's mother had stabbed his father in front of the child, before plunging the same knife in her own jugulars.
The picture showed a child with a curtain of greasy brown hair, freckles splattered over his face like a messy colony of constillations, covering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose before trailing down towards the corners of his neck. There was a look in the young boy's eyes, his brown irises held no joy, none of the childish innocence a regular eight year old should hold. Heavy bags weighed his eyes and cheeks sunk into skin, baby fat all but diminished. The boy looked frail, a thin thing. Like a single flick to his skin would bruise mauve.
Matthew was one of many kids chosen for the Smiling Critters line. His traumatic background made it more plausible for the child to be groomed into the perfect monster. It was always the children with hectic backgrounds that bred the most ferocious experiments. Experimentation on him had only begun for two days, in two weeks time experimental surgery would’ve been due for the boy. He was being kept in solitary state for that reason, it was common practice to leave the children to themselves for a few weeks down at the viewing room. It made the experiments tolerate the presence of the scientists, the presence of another individual but themselves.
“What ended up happening to subject 1589?” Leith asked, his head angling away from the file to look up at Stella with heightened curiosity.
“The poor boy was hysterical, and seemingly already attached to his saviour,” she began, pushing a strand of burgundy hair away from her chin and tucking it back against her ear.
“His condition is stable, he’s being kept in another cell in the viewing room.”
A hum of acknowledgement escaped Leith's sealed lips as he flipped to the second page of the file.
It was then a blur of something caught his eye.
The crinkled yellow shirt, the mouthy words he spoke despite his vocal cords refusing to make a sound, the messy hair, the unknown name. He recognised the figure before the paper fully turned. He momentarily paused. The employee who caused this whole mess, the man who kidnapped a child, the man who disposed of 1223, was the same man he interviewed three days ago. In fact, the paper Leith was gazing into was the very same paper he used in the interview to identify the employee. The same man, with the very same awkward picture in the corner of his file and the very same inked smudge on his name.
“Now as that has been explained,” Ritterman paused. The man’s face twitched before he continued.
“What should become of him?”
Now this was an interesting turn of events.