[Captain Del]

Ahoy mates!

Thanks for being patient about this one. I'm glad to see you all have already read my first two chapters, so hopefully you're eager for this one! Now, without further adieu, I present to thee..

The Prophets of Tortuga

August 29th, 1725
Tortuga, Hispaniola
9:45 AM

The people of Tortuga leaned outside of their windows, doors, and homes at the moment of eerie silence that feel over the port, normally hissing with activity underneath the grey sky above. What was once a capital of bustling public interest had slowed down to a halt, as men and women along the main street of Tortuga stepped outside of their half-repaired buildings, and turned their attention to the center of the port, where the source of the disturbance had come from.

The citizens that played and chatted in the town center turned their vision away from their games, whiskey, and friends to the fountain where a group of roughly a dozen Navy soldiers had escorted themselves to around the front rim of the structure facing down the road towards the bay, their bright red uniforms stood out like blood on a haystack under the dreary sky. They pointed their bayonets upward, towards the clouds, but by no means did that mean they were not willing to use them if provoked. They formed a small blockade around the front of the spring, perfectly distanced between one another so they seemed remotely organized as they helped one of their fellow soldiers atop the ledge, who fixed himself as a larger and larger crowd gathered before the group of red coats. They all seemed very skeptical and suspicious of the British, and as the common folk flooded nearly the entire front half of the courtyard, the British soldiers became more and more tense. Still, the stubby little Officer bravely pulled from his pocket a folded piece of parchment paper, and began to clear his throat.

"It is by decree of the British Royal Navy, under the jurisdiction of His Majesty, King George the First, that the province of Tortuga, which currently stands under the jurisdiction of-"

At the word jurisdiction, a small group of pirates in the center of the crowd began yelling curses towards the soldiers. Their outburst spread like a wildfire, and soon their shouts drowned out the short man, who was trying to speak over their roars. All the British soldiers could do is watch in horror, holding their muskets tightly, as they were ordered not to shoot until the first shot was made. At one point a group of pirates that stood near the King's Arm began running out of the tavern and throwing empty glass bottles in the general direction of the fountain, but they hit the ground and fellow pirates than they did the soldiers.

Finally, the Officer threw both of his hands up and yelled "SILENCE!," which somehow managed to subdue the pirates for just a moment. They lowered their bottles and their hats, watching the little British man as he straightened his posture, patted the notice, and looked down to continue reading. Before he could, however, a loud bang echoed through the still air, finding it's end at the little man, who froze at the sounding of the gun. His hand was shaking rapidly, the paper rocking back and forth in his hand, until it finally wavered out of his palms and downward, to the floor. What was revealed behind where the paper should have been was a deep red stain on the man's shirt, that began to seep through on to the white bands that went across his chest. A few of the women in the crowd who stood closer to the fountain shrieked and gasped in horror as they realized what had happened, but other than that, nobody spoke - even as the Officer's body toppled directly backward, smacking in to the water of the fountain, and splashing up red waves under his impact. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of clapping coming from across the left side of the square, across the distance from the King's Arm.

A dark-skinned and white-bearded man clapped underneath the overhang of one of the gun shops that stood in the square, his tall, brown hat leaning over his brown. Next to him, his bald-assistant slipped a bite of an apple in to his mouth as he placed his musket to his side, while his captain patted the back of his dusty green coat. "Nice shot, Mr. Dedman."

Ezekiel stepped out of the shadows of the overhang, his high-wig hat casting a shadow down over a dragon-like tattoo that clawed at the side of his left eye. He was wearing the same old green, dusted veteran's coat, thrown over a tight-fitted, double crossed shirt with one flap riding over the other. His belt sloppily jingled along his waist, attached to an assortment of guns and daggers that hid under the sides of his coat. His cutlass, which he waved slowly back and forth in his hand to clear his path to the fountain, was a Venetian-styled broadsword, black at its hilt and a darker brass color along the blade, which barely gave off any shine when drawn out in to the light.

Upon reaching the fountain, he immediately walked up to the two soldiers the miniature Officer had stood behind while on the ledge of the fountain, looking back and forth between either of them. While anticipating built in the crowd that they two soldiers would make an attempt to subdue him, they instead stepped to the side, allowing for Rott to climb on top of the edge of the fountain. A large part of the crowd began to whisper back and forth in shock and awe that the Navy had so eagerly given him the speaking position atop the structure, most of them unaware of the secret alliance that had been forged. Only a few knowledgeable pirates began to sink further back in to the crowd, hoping that Rott would not point them out for public execution should he recognize them.

Yet with a flick of his wrist, the crowd quieted. They all turned their heads eagerly to him, watching to see what he would do. He quietly put his sword back at his side, and panned over the crowd once more, studying each face before he began. "Gentlemen, ladies of Tortuga, perhaps I can better phrase what my dear friend here," he made a motion behind him, to the soaked body floating in the fountain "could not properly orate. My name, friends, is Captain Ezekiel Rott, though I'm sure all of you know this. I come here to all of you today with a proposition which, I believe, will lead to the proper cleansing of our dear Caribbean. I come but only in the name of the common good of all men."

"WE DON'T NEED YER HELP!" a voice hollered from the middle of the crowd. One of the captains of a local band of pirates, who much too much favored the wears of the French navy, waved his small cavalry hat back and forth as he shook his fist at Ezekiel. "Yer the one that's been causing all of our trouble!" he shouted, and to his delight his crew mates who surrounded him began nodding their heads in agreement, though they didn't go much further than that in showing support. Without even directly responding to the captain, Rott's eyes drifted off to a nearby section of the crowd, and once he seemed to lock eyes with somebody, he patted his chest with his right hand, just below his heart.

A few moments later, the blue-coated pirate was caught mid-sentence, at a loss of breath. Unbeknownst to him or his crew, Ramona had side-stepped her way through the crowd and had gripped the captain in a sleeper hold behind his head, now plunging a small piece of a glass bottle repeatedly in to his back. She let him slip out of her grip on the tenth cut in to his back, and he slithered on to the floor in a heap of torn leather and blood. The crowd around him scattered by a radius of six feet, all of them engulfed in shock and horror as they watched one of their fellow captains bleed out to death on the floor. Ramona looked around at all of them, chuckling lightly under her cap and taunting them with her shard of glass, before she turned her attention back to Rott, tipping her hat in his direction.

Ezekiel did a little salute to her, before clapping his hands together loudly in a little smile. "As you all can suggest, you are faced with many unfavorable choices in this situation. But perhaps the worst road you could go down is the path that you are taking right now, which is following behind a group of pirates that really only have their best interest at heart. Come now, you must have not seriously believed that the "leaders" you follow in to battle are doing this for you, are they?"

Rott left the crowd in silence as they all looked around at one another again, trying to find answers to the questions presented to them. As much as they felt compelled to defend their fellow pirates, they found a sliver of doubt in the back of their minds that was now growing in to a tumor, preventing them from speaking. "I thought not." he smiled. "All you are to them is but puppets in their scheme. They simply brainwash you in to fighting for them, so you can die as a proper sacrifice in their place. However, if you follow my lead, there will be no need for sacrifice.

"The Navy has provided for you all a very grand opportunity. Should you choose to fly the flag of the Casa de Muertos, you will be rewarded with immunity from prosecution by all European states currently participating in the Caribbean." Rott reached in to the recess of his coat, and pulled out a crumpled piece of black parchment paper, with a quill pen that instead of a feather, bore the skeleton of a raven's wing. From its tip, a bright gold ink dripped. "All you need to do is sign this paper. So, what do you say?"

"I wouldn't sign that paper if I was you." called a voice from the side of the court. Rott turned his head to the left, looking up to balcony of the King's Arm, where there Delmaria leaned nonchalantly against the right banister. The crowd turned their attention to him, and for a moment Rott felt a spark of anger inside of him because he was taking attention away from him.

"Well, if it isn't the Patron Saint of Damnation himself. And how are you, Mr. Darkskull? Still wiping the smell of coal out of your nostrils?"

"Not as much as you are getting the test of fish water out of your throat." Delmaria rebuttled, walking back and forth along the balcony as he kept his eyes locked on Rott.

Rott chuckled, shaking his head back and forth. "You should have known better than to come out of hiding, Delmaria. It's not the safest thing to do."

Without missing a beat or turning his head, Delmaria said "Tell Mr. Dedman that if he doesn't want the pistol pointed at his back to go off he should put down that musket."

Rott turned in confusement, and there in the shadows, sitting quietly in the doorway of the building Nathan stood in front of, a figure cloaked from head to toe in a deep blue assortment of clothing waved a little oriental pistol back and forth in her right hand, almost like if she was deciding whether to shoot him or not. With her free hand, she waved to Captain Rott, the outline of a sly smile on her hidden face. Rott nodded slowly, then turned back to face the King's Arm. "Fair enough. Seems you can still manage to play your cards."

"Oh I wouldn't be the one to worry about his cards, Captain Ezekiel. It seems you're the one that's been bluffing this entire time." Darkskull stopped, gripping the rail of the balcony and looming over it.

"I'm simply here to provide for these men and women what you can't, Mr. Darkskull - stability, honor, and above all, protection. All you've been bent on is making them a slave to your extremist agenda in these waters." Rott pointed a hand out to the pirate, taking glances at the crowd to make sure they followed him.

"You say this after you try to nearly kill us all? You pretend as though the events of the last few months have not occurred, Captain Rott. How do you expect us to trust the man who killed a man that we all respected and adored?" Delmaria shouted, pointing his hand out and looking in to the crowd. "You say that I'm the one whose brainwashed them, yet it seems you're only trying to brainwash yourself in to thinking you're still that innocent hermit who washed up on Port Royal a few years ago."

"This is besides all of that, Delmaria. I will be the first to admit that I may have had a hand in the side of your opposition, and to this day I still may stir that pot, but now," Rott turned fully to the crowd, raising his hand up to the heavens like he was a disciple of God, "I have come with an opportunity to convert these men and women to the side that, one day, will rule these waters!"

Rott was a pathetic little man. Ever since an early age when he lived in the shadow of his bigger brother, who would take the role of Head Adviser of Minertown, he was set on making the world as miserable for others as it had been in his own corner of the world. When Jolly Roger had given him to join what he believed was the "winning side," he didn't do so much as a fear that he would die, no - he did it so that he could take revenge on his brother (who he made sure was the first to suffer in the fires that consumed the town) and that he would never be considered the shorter stick ever again. But whenever faced with the possibility that he was not at the highest throne in the land, he felt young once more, and would do whatever it would take to return to the spotlight. He was not a charismatic leader, nor was he one that truly meant what he said - but he knew how to act, and to make others believe what he wanted them to, and from that he would corrupt people until he would be lead to greatness.

Delmaria shook his head. He lingered on whether he was to say what he was going to, but when he saw a few pirates making their way to Rott to accept his offer, he knew he had to. He placed his foot at angle in front of him, and called out "You're scared, aren't you Rott?"

Without even putting further thought in to it, Delmaria kicked his feet down and sprung himself backward, through the open doorway of the Kings Arm, and slamming his back on the railing that looked down on to the empty King's Arm. Though it may have seemed a little drastic, he was correct in the fact he should have moved, as an infuriated little boy known as Captain Ezekiel Rott had garnished his pistol and shot it in the general direction of Delmaria. When he saw the gold-feathered hat catch itself on the inside railing of the tavern, Rott turned to Ramona and Jeremiah. Before he could order them to chase after the pirate, Ramona had already darted towards the door of the King's Arm; Dedman, however, would not make it there in time.

As Rott had fired his pistol at Delmaria, Jeremiah made an attempt to overpower his aggressor, turning on her with his musket readied to fire. Luckily, a puddle from last night's rain fall had collected itself at the foot of the store that he was standing in front of, so as he spun around his left foot kicked out from under him. In a panic, his assailant shot her pistol with the best aim she could muster, landing a bullet square in to Dedman's chest. She fled, and there Jeremiah's body sat, bleeding out on the floor just like Ramona had done to the pirate captain. Rott showed no compassion - he only shook his head, drew his sword, and chased after Ramona.

Delmaria bounded off the inside railing of the tavern and sprinted down the short walkway to the left side of the room, where it wrapped around down to the staircase that led down to the main floor. Just as he hit the top step, he saw Ramona burst inside, catching him from the corner of her eye. Delmaria looked around and managed to find a small glass bottle sitting on top of a stack of crates that sat next to him at the top of the stairs, which he took and threw down at Ramona. She side-stepped the flurry of glass shards as it shattered in to the ground near her feet, and turned back to the pirate. Instead of seeing him, she saw the avalanche of a large group of crates barreling down the staircase in her direction. Before she could manage to flee, one of them bounced off the ground and pounced to hit her in the shin, taking her down to the floor.

Delmaria unsheathed his cutlass and began running down the stairs, though he was more concerned with getting out of the tavern than he was killing somebody. His golden sword glinted in the dim tavern light that came down upon it as he bounded over Ramona, landing on the floor just behind her. He stood next to the open doorway, and turned to watch as Rott began walking angrily towards him, the rest of the crowd following in the background to watch. Delmaria backed up in desperation, before his back hit against one of the wooden tables in the beginning of the room. As Ezekiel stepped inside the building, Darkskull turned about and climbed on top of the bottle-ridden table. Rott stopped as he watched the pirate gain his balance on top of it, and once he did he kicked one of the bottles with his heavy black boot in to Rott's face, smacking the side of his face before rebounding and hitting the floor a few feet behind him.

Rott gritted his teeth as he cut his broadsword across Delmaria's feet, making the pirate jump to avoid the swipe. Darkskull flipped his cutlass over his shoulder and brought his cutlass with a clash down on to Ezekiel's blade, which he had caught just as it veered off to his side. Delmaria pushed off and side-swiped his blade to knock Rott away again, before he jumped backwards off the table. By now, Ramona had managed to wobble to her feet, advancing on the pirate with a small steel rapier in her hand. They stood on the opposite side of the table, his two aggressors side by side as they looked over at him.

Delmaria grabbed the wooden table with his left hand and pushed it, hitting it in to the torsos of his two opponents. He grabbed a bottle that sat on the table behind his right hand and chucked it in Rott's direction, who was able to duck in time to keep it from shattering on his forehead. Ramona quickly managed to crawl on top of the table and began making her way towards Delmaria, who stepped back a little more and grabbed at more bottles from the two tables that sat at his side, chucking them through the air and at the two of them. While Rott chose to stay behind as he took shelter behind the table, Guerra was able to use her quick swordsmanship as a shield against the containers, slicing and hitting them out of the air until she finally managed to land on the other side of the table unharmed. By then, Delmaria had run out of bottles - so, with his left hand, he pulled a light wooden chair from its position and dragged it in front of him, kicking it across the floor with a slide towards Ramona.

As it came towards her, Guerra stepped up on the chair and rocketed off with ease before it spirited her away, sending her up and on to the table that sat to Delmaria's right, closer to the bar. She attempted to take a fly-by cut of Delmaria as she glided through the air, but he caught her attack with a match of his own sword, which contacted with hers and pushed it along as she reached the table. Once she landed, she was provided with the disadvantage of looking away from Darkskull, which gave him enough time to grab a firm grip on the table she stood on and flipped it over. Without a moment to spare, the dame was once again off her feet, now just barely making it off the surface of the table as it crashed behind her. With its face at her back, Delmaria placed his hands on the "bottom" of the flat and gave it a stern push, knocking it in to her back and toppling it over her as her legs finally gave in with a heave. She caught herself on her hands, but before she could rebound the heavy wooden spread pushed her downward.

Delmaria spun to an enraged Rott, who had finally mustered enough courage to come from behind his place of hiding, and threw himself towards Delmaria. His broadsword coming down on his cutlass felt like a bag of coal being placed right in his hands, but he gripped to it tight as it was knocked off to his side with so much force he was taken with it. He spun wildly until he landed on other side of the table that he had flattened Ramona with, which was proceeded by a loud grunt that could be heard from underneath. The table slumped further down under his weight until he was nearly on his back, but Delmaria knew that if Rott tried to plunge the blade through him, he would be able to move and instead impale Ramona through her back. Instead, Rott gripped Delmaria by his long vest and lugged him off the table, before spinning him around and pistol-whipping him over the surface of the table that had gone unscathed to his left.

Delmaria slid across the wet surface of the table and landed head-first in to a chair on the opposite side, falling down as he made contact and flipping him over to land him in a sitting position as he hit the hard stone ground. Though his coat had managed to absorb most of the shock, the pain still slithered up his spine unbearably, nearly paralyzing him under its grip. He knew, however, that he could not sit there for long if he wanted to live, so he rolled over to his left in the direction of the back of the tavern, and managed to gain enough momentum to roll himself on to his feet. He made a dash in between the tables, caught in between a sprint and a limp, and managed to break out in to the courtyard that sat behind the King's Arm.

The courtyard was surrounded on all sides by crooked stone buildings just about the same height as the bar, with the exception of the farther-right side where underneath a small stone bridge that connected the roofs of two of the buildings a long alleyway lead down to another one of the roads of Tortuga. Lines of wet clothing hung overhead from small, paneled windows opposite to one another, and in the center a tree about 18 feet tall with a mushroom-cap-like canopy of leaves sat neatly trimmed within the confines of a miniature stone garden squarely raised 3 feet off the ground. Delmaria ran up to the tree and jumped on top, waiting impatiently as Rott and a bruised Ramona came through the back doorway of the King's Arm. They looked at each other, then back at him, puzzled. "Well?" he called, "What did you expect?"

Rott rushed forward as Ramona tried to catch her breath. He slashed his broadsword diagonally across Delmaria, but the pirate wrapped his left arm around the small tree that he stood next to and used it to spin himself around it gleefully. By the time he made a full revolution, he caught Rott's rebounding blade again, pushing it back as he completed another half circle around the tree and then stopping there. From behind Ezekiel, Ramona began a charge forward, pushing her captain violently aside as she jumped up on to the garden on the opposite side of Delmaria. She stuck her blade out in a jab, yet missed Delmaria entirely on the wrong side of the tree, allowing Delmaria to grab her shirt and throwing her off behind him.

Darkskull now found himself surrounded on both sides. In front of him, Rott stood menacingly in the dim light of the King's Arm emanating from inside, under the damp, dark sky. Behind him, Ramona gracefully gained her balance as she reorganized her battle plan, rubbing the blade of her blood-stained rapier against the side of her pants. Darkskull caught the eye of the crowds of pirates who had now become more and more interested in the fight, crowding inside the King's Arm and flooding in to the nearby alleyway. He knew that they were watching to decide which side they were to join, because like all pirates, they only stay interested in a side for so long until it starts losing. If he was secure himself, he would have to defend his honor.

The silence was broken when Rott and Guerra simultaneously let out a vicious battle-cry, charging forward with their swords in hand towards the garden that Delmaria stood on top of. Darkskull threw his left arm as tight as possible around the trunk of the tree, pitting it in to his elbow and clenching his muscles around it, and made a quick turn towards Ramona, who he anticipated would reach him first. He cut her blade away as he swung by, then turned right around to Rott and repeated the same action, though his sword was harder to push back than Guerra's flimsy dueling sword. He then instantly kicked off again and returned his attention to Guerra, who attempted to thrust her blade out and stick Delmaria in his side. Delmaria was able to lift a solid foot off the ground and sidekick the blade away as he turned, then flailing his blade downward and landing a small cut on her right shoulder. She let out a little whimper and walked back, which gave Delmaria enough time to deal with Rott for a few moments.

Delmaria came back around and saw that Rott was still trying to gain balance back with his incredibly heavy broadsword, tittering back and forth a little bit as he tried to plant his feet in the dirt. Delmaria bent his knees, and kicked off with both feet to send him high in to the air, bringing his cutlass over his head and coming down in a jumping slash upon the wicked man. Unfortunately his blade's tip only came within an inch of Rott's mangled white beard, but he was still able to make fierce contact with Rott's broadsword. He cut the blade straight out of the Casa de Muertos Guildmaster's hand, hitting it against the floor with a heavy thud.

Rott attempted to back up as far as he could, but he was still within dangerous reach of Delmaria's golden cutlass by the time the pirate had raised his blade to the wicked man's neck. Rott froze in his tracks as the cutlass's trip brushed against his beard, and the entire crowd of Tortuga froze in silence as they waited for Darkskull's judgment. Delmaria saw it then and there - plunging his sword straight in to Rott's neck, watching as the streams of blood poured out on the ground as the remains of Jolly Roger's mockery of the islands died before him. He would have loved the rush it would have given him, but Delmaria knew that about any satisfaction was the Pirate Code, and Tortuga was not a safe place to break it. So, he stuck to chit-chat.

"So you're the man who supposedly disabled one of the Caribbean's finest swordsmen? I find a least a few traces of deceit in that statement." Delmaria pushed out within a few pants of tired breath.

"I may have not have won fairly, but I still won. It's not cheating if you don't get caught, mate." Rott smiled devilishly.

"Seems you've been caught, though?" Delmaria smiled back.

Rott's grin widened. "Not for long."

From behind him, Delmaria could feel something rising against him. A chill crept up and down his back, and his shoulders tensed. He was receiving that feeling children felt when they stayed home alone for the first time, as darkness descends over their home and the ghosts come out to play. Across the courtyard, Ramona slowly ascended to her feet, in her hand a very basic flintlock pistol loaded with an equally basic bullet, though still potent enough to kill a man if you knew how to handle it right. The crowd unsettled itself in gasps of shock, and Delmaria's smile turned to a frown.

"Seems you've caught yourself in a bind, Delmaria. I suggest lowering the sword." Rott quirked.

Delmaria paused for a moment, before slowly lowering the sword down to his side. Darkskull just shook his head. "You've been lying to us all this time, haven't you?"

"Not necessarily lying. I killed him, yes, just not in the manner you all had anticipated. The fact is that he lost, and now he is simply a ghost a few deranged pirates see on the beaches after a few too many drinks. All he remains as is a figment of all of our imaginations."

"You know as much as I do that you saw him, Ezekiel." Delmaria tilted his chin up, looking down at Rott with a sense of disappointment. It reminded Ezekiel of how his father used to look at him every time he failed to complete the simplest tasks. He never was hit or beaten, but the stare itself was enough to scar him emotionally.

Rott leaned in and whispered in to Delmaria's ear "Nobody's ever going to see you, Delmaria."

Delmaria shook his head again. He slipped both of his hands on to Rott's shoulders, leaned in even closer, and responded with "You neither."

By the time Ramona had jolted to pull the trigger on her pistol, Delmaria had already done what he needed to do. While Rott was still uncomfortably close to him, he wrapped both of his arms around the man akin to a bear hug, grabbing him as tightly as possible.. He pulled him with all of his might, trying to make up as much time as possible, and pointed his toe in to the ground, allowing him to make a quick turn. It look like he was ballroom dancing with the pirate, but it had a much more sinister meaning.

The small lead bullet lodged itself in to the right arm of Ezekiel Rott, who almost immediately melted under the excruciating pain. Rott thought back to the first time his brother ever twisted his arm until he nearly cried, the first time he ever was pushed off a rock in to a bush of thorns, or the first time his brother ever managed to wrestle him to the ground. "You can do better than that, Zekie!" his brother always used to giggle at him before running away. And he would always try to run after his brother, but his brother was always faster than him. It was like every goal Rott ever tried to accomplish; the harder he ran towards it the farther away it would go.

As Rott slinked to the ground, Delmaria just slowly stepped back to watch the mongrel slither on to his back, gripping at his arm in pain. Ramona hastily made her way to him as he tried desperately to roll on to his side to help himself up, dropping her pistol on the ground and making her way towards him. As she slid to the ground next to him, Delmaria called from the back doorway of the King's Arm "This is the man you rally behind? Good thing you shot him."

All Ramona could do was respond with her wide variety of curses as she pulled Rott to his feet, which took a considerable amount of time considering his height over her. When he finally managed to push himself upward, he pushed her back violently with his free arm, and turned to Delmaria. "This is NOT over, you little" followed by an equally colorful vocabulary.

Delmaria shrugged it off and was delighted to the cheers and claps of the pirates who surrounded the courtyard as Ramona and Rott limped down the alleyway together. Still, Delmaria noted that a few pirates mixed in to the crowd chose not to clap at all, instead staring with a dark glare at their colleagues. He could tell that some of the men and women of the port had already chosen a new flag.

Regardless, he walked forward to pick up his cutlass from the ground, looking for his reflection as he always did when he looked in to it. It was still there, yet with a few cuts gracing the sides of his chin and cheeks; yet, a small price to pay. Delmaria turned in to the King's Arm, and before sitting down at a nearby table, noticed a sight from all the way across the courtyard.

Dedman was slowly awakening from his daze, trying to find the bullet that had lodged itself in to his heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry this one took a little longer than the others, but I never really found any time to work on it.

Well, mates, what do you think? It was a little longer than the others, but I hope you enjoyed it! Comment below, por favor!