| JANUARY, YEAR 3 |
MV1 Presents... | ADVENTURE BRANCH |
 |
|
While other heroes fought abroad in World War II, they were
the U.S.A.'s first line of defense at home. They were the Liberty Legion.
Now a new generation of heroes takes up the mantle to fight for modern American freedoms... |
| Issue #348 | Written by Alan Downs | Check out more MV1 Fanfiction |
"New Under the Sun"
Second Prologue
New York
He awoke at his desk, a crick in his neck from sleeping in the
chair. Again. Late nights weren't as easy as they used to be. The sun was
shining through the windows and his digital clock read 9:16 PM. He'd have to
cancel the 9:30 with the people looking to merge. Of course, he could do
that: He was Bruce Dickson.
So he reclined in his chair and felt his body relax. Most people, he knew,
didn't know what it was like to really relax. You couldn't unless you
could deflate your body to the paper thinness and literally stretch out. It felt
good to be him. Not as good as it used to feel, thanks to about 60 years,
but good enough.
He hoped that Devin got enough sleep. She usually flew out over the Atlantic
on Mondays, for inspiration, and then she'd come back to write before coming
over to visit and train. Devin: His wonderful adoptive daughter, who he'd saved
from life and probably death on the street. His young lady, beautiful, strong,
and expressive. His American Eagle. She fought the good fight under his
direction.
Not that she was the only one.
Chicago
She ran, and it felt good, like freedom. Through the streets and alleys, wind
blowing through her hair. Fast enough not to be seen. Fast enough...Well, fast
enough to make catching the bad guys a joke. It could have been over in a
second, but she let them run scared, just to make a point. Okay.....Maybe to
have some fun, too.
"Kayla." The tiny device in her ear sounded a clear voice. "Don't tell me
you're still in pursuit?"
A reciever in the device transmitted her words. "Yes sir, Mr. Dickson. Just
rounding 3rd Street now..." She kept looking straight ahead at the escaping van,
something she had learned by experience: Moving as fast as she did, sometimes
almost lightspeed, you don't get distracted.
Someone's face appeared from the passenger window, then a gun, and Kayla
found herself skipping over a hail of bullets. No problem. They were just like
leaves in the wind to her, they moved so slowly. It was like dancing.
"For God's sake, girl," Mr. Dickson said, "Stop showboating and get it over
with like it could have been minutes ago. You're not out there to play."
He was right. Mostly. Someone could have been injured by the ricochet.
She should've thought of that...Time to get it over. But that didn't mean she
did it his way. "Of course, Mr. Dickson. I'm on it." Kayla knew she was more
than on it: She was all over it. All it took was a some
acceleration. She hadn't been anyhwere near her peak and still wasn't
approaching it. Quick dodges through the few idiots who were still trying to
make it through traffic. Honestly: A van full of men with guns.
The driver noticed the van feeling loose at 75. He looked over when the
gunshots stopped. "What the hell are you doing? Keep shooting!" His
partner took a long look, even leaning out the window, and came back in with
wind-tossed hair. "What? What is it?"
"She ain't there." He put his gun down and relaxed. "I think we lost her."
The three in back felt a relief that they wouldn't have to use their own guns.
They jumped at a voice.
"You thought wrong." The driver looked out his window and nearly went up the
curb. Red hair trailing, yellow costume bright, and the navy "W" on her chest.
She smiled, easily keeping up with them: Running backwards. "And you're
probably in the area of 'Weakest Link' if you think you can lose the Whizzer."
The jaws of the van's passengers were all slack. It took some thought for the
driver to pull his own gun and howl as he emptied a round at her. Her image
blurred, and when she came into focus again, she wasn't smiling anymore. "Okay,
fine. Enough play." The van yelled in unison. The girl in yellow sprinted around
the front and the ones in back were thrown against the wall as their driver
swerved. Instead they found the curb and soon, they guessed, the drug store they
saw through the windshield. They didn't realize it, still yelling with their
eyes shut, but that wasn't happening.
Kayla was already growing bored of spinning her arm. In the wind tunnel it
created, the van was raised spinning into the air until she finally set it down
in the street, straddling two lines but safe and sound. That was, until the rear
doors vibrated and flew open.
"If you don't mind getting out," Said the Whizzer, giving a nod behind her,
where the blue and red lights could already be sen. "I think there are some
people here who'd like to talk to you." She pursed her lips when they
hesitated. "Or, if you want, I could pick this thing up again and
shake you out..."
They were on the street in no time, cartel exposed, handcuffed, defeated.
Kayla had already distanced herself from the scene in her usual unnoticeable
fashion. Not that she didn't wish someone would notice. She watched the
police do their jobs and wondered what it was like. "Are you done?" Her ear
asked. What was it like to only rely on your wits? Your skills?
".....Yeah. Everything's fine. The police have them and their
shipment."
"Then go on and get out of there. You can go home for the day, if you want."
Really? She actually had his permission to make a choice?
"Okay, Mr. Dickson. I'll do that. Whizzer out." A faint beep in her
ear and Kayla began running, breaking her own rule to look back briefly at
justice being carried out. She was undressed and locked in her condo in four
seconds, her thoughts moving as quickly as she did.
In her five second shower, she figured she deserved to embellish a little,
Kayla had decided she would never need to find out what being a cop was like.
She would always do her own part, and they, theirs. After shaking the water from
her body she towled up and went back into the living room. She wouldn't
live in a place with an actual living room if it wasn't for him:
Mr. Dickson. She wouldn't be the Whizzer, either.
Not to say that she wouldn't have her powers. Kayla fell to the couch
and stared at the blank TV screen. No, she had someone else to thank for
that: Her father, the professor. An experiment gone awry. A miracle survival. A
rift beween them. He never even apologized to her, just asked what it was like.
Anything for science. Kayla sunk into the plush cushions and wondered what it
would be like to be his son...The man in the picture on the wall. The
original Whizzer.
He had been in the Invaders, the Liberty Legion, and the All-Winners
Squad. The stories he would have to tell...Sometimes Kayla wished she had been
alive then. She would have known them all. No, better, she would have
been one of them. An Invader, or...
Oops. Kayla's eyelids grew heavy. That'll happen when you don't eat for a
couple of hours and have the metabolism of a hummingbird. Slipping into sleep,
Kayla kept thinking of the greats of the past. And she thought of Mr. Dickson,
who had been one as the Thin Man. If he was so serious that he would seek out
and fund her...Why not someone else?
She awoke hours later, a desperate voice buzzing in her ear. "Whizzer: I need
you in New York. Now."
London
The Invaders. The greatest super-heroes of World War II, some of them the
greatest of all time. They had sat here, years ago. Sat, talked, and lived their
amazing lives within a concealed chamber in the very top of Big Ben. It had sat,
unused and dormant, for more than fifty years...Until last week.
Last week a young man with a scythe entered the clocktower. He found the
table where the Invaders made plans for battle and made it is own. He slept in
their neatly-made beds when he grew tired. It was almost like being back at
Castle Immortus again, because from his new home up high, Father Time watched
the entire world.
He would cut holes into other parts of the world and just watch, trying to
learn. Rulers lying to their people's faces. The rich taking what little the
poor have. Man showing himself no respect. And he wondered: He was one of
them? Up until recently he thought himself a child of time itself. But he was a
human, and for that, he felt almost ashamed.
And the heroes, today's heroes of a "modern world". They did nothing
to help the situation. Every day they battled in the streets and caused more
harm than good. Those weren't...weren't.....
He grabbed his head, sitting at his table. The last time he had felt a
similar flash, there had been a disturbance in time great enough to require the
attention of Father Time[4].
This was something important. Not time, but it was important. And he
almost felt a suction forcing him there.
Father Time stood, shook the feeling, and raised his scythe. Rip. On
the other end was the concrete jungle of New York City. He hesitated to walk
through: This was practically where the "heroes" bred. Yet the calling
was strong. Could this be the threat his father spoke of? He left Big Ben
just as it struck two.
Los Angeles
"Have you found anything yet?"
The masked man sighed and dropped his hand. "No. I haven't. And I
won't if you keep asking me." He rubbed his eyes, which were getting
tired from reading such small text for hours. The computer screen shed light on
his face.
"I just expected you to work a little faster." Oh, that wasn't
what he needed. The masked man stopped typing, remaining calm.
"When you want to locate someone, given only a last name to go by
which may or may not be what they're using as it is, you have to take a little
time. Do you know how many Queens there are in the world?" His fingers
began clicking away on the keyboard again. "What do you need her?" A silence in
his ear before Dickson spoke.
"I just like to keep tabs on people."
"Doesn't quite sound like you."
"Then you obviously don't know me very well." Dickson's voice was the same as
ever. "Send me whatever results you have. I'll call when I have a real challenge
for you."
A pun. So '40s of him. "Cute." The typing continued, and his eyes
begged him for no more tiny green text. No more Queens. He didn't
have to be here, and he didn't have to put up with Dickson's talk.
The Challenger was his own man. He figured that was why Dickson didn't really
like him.
He already had the money, the skills, and the equipment. He didn't need
funding like the others...And he knew for sure there were "others". No, he
didn't need Dickson or any of them. Dickson needed him. An
informer. An all-purposes man on the inside. Yes. He didn't need him, any
of them, at all...No one's soldier but his own. Never again.
A noise in the back. Muffled voices, and a door closing. Someone was
approaching, he assumed someone with a late shift. He typed, breathed the same
as he had before. No rush. By the time the door to the small office opened, the
voices had gotten louder.
"...Can't believe Lumbergh gave us the graveyard. It's..." The man
stopped, holding his friend back, and stared.
"What is it, Michael?" The other said.
"...Nothing." Peter walked over and rebooted the computer. "I just thought
I'd turned off my terminal earlier, that's all."
Floors above them, on the building's roof, a desperate voice buzzed in the
Challenger's ear. "Challenger: I need you in New York. Now."
New York
Bob was a beast of a man in casual clothes, towering and thick with no hair.
"So...You were dead?" He looked over at his partner, a blonde, sharp-eyed young
man of no more than 13 years. That's how it looked, at least. His name was
originally Robert Grayson...Fourty-something years ago. Now he was Matt
Alden. Or something like that.
"And you used to be a criminal," Matt, Robert, or whoever, said icily. He
hadn't looked at Bob the whole time they were walking, all the way from the
Dickson Building to there, twelve blocks away.
"Yeah...Nuklo. I also used to be able to get 20 feet tall and make three of
myself. Now I'm just strong. Things change." Bob put his massive hands in his
pockets. "You want to tell me what happened?"
Matt hmphed. "I have an advanced mind. It gives me telepathy and makes
me very, very smart."
"How smart?"
"Smarter than you, I'm sure. All that somehow came into play when I died
before, in a past life. My mind survived and sought out a body. It came to this
one when it was still in the womb."
Bob blinked. "Wait. So, uh, are you Marvel Boy? Or are you Matt? Mr. Dickson
didn't explain." Matt grew very quiet and Bob realized how small he seemed.
"...I'm both. I grew up knowing I used to be Robert Grayson. There was never
any question about that. I remember everything from my past life, but at the
same time...I've got a new one. But I'm Matt the Marvel Boy now."
"I gotcha.....I think. So now you work for Mr. Dickson, too."
"I met Bruce once back in the 50's when I was in the Avengers...A different
one[1].
He was friends with a friend of our team: Your father, the Whizzer." Bob thought
to ask, but he decided not to. Mr. Dickson had told him a lot about his father.
He didn't need to ask a complete stranger.
"I decided it was time to make use of what I have...Bruce was one of the only
people left over from back then. He told me about his little web of contacts and
said he could use someone with the experience." Matt made a face. "He
didn't say anything about being a mail service. Where are we
going, anyway?"
Bob smiled, stopped, and held Matt back. "Here," He said, pointing at the
warehouse. It was a large warehouse of sorts at the edge of the docks,
overlooking a long pier that stretched out over the water, and didn't strike
Matt as anything special, or much of anything period.
"This...Looks similar to our old warehouse. Wonderful. You plan to
give the bums around back food in exchange for crime tips?" Matt lagged behind
as Bob walked to the front of the place. Bob just kept smiling and pressed a
small button on the side of the door.
"Matt: This is Pier 4." Matt had come up closer behind him. "Home to
the Fantastic Four." A screen was already lowering when Matt spoke.
"What...What are you talking about?" He sounded strange. "The Fantastic Four
live in the Baxter Building." He sounded, if it was possible,
almost...Nervous?
"Not anymore. Remember? When they were gone after that whole Onslaught
business, the Thunderbolts moved into Four Freedoms Plaza[2].
They've been living here pretty much since they got back[3]."
"Oh." Matt stepped back. "Maybe...I shouldn't have come..." He hadn't
been fast enough. A digitized face labled "HERBIE" appeared on the screen and
immeadiately began blinking red.
"Intruder alert! Intruder alert!"
"Oh, come on!" Bob smacked the door lightly, lightly for him being
crushingly. It didn't do any good. The alarm continued to sound. "I know
Reed Richards himself built this place, and that guy has to keep
up-to-date files. Shut up!" He was about to hit the screen when its image
changed: A collected, slightly older face, white at the temples but more like a
father than something older. A bold "4" was on his chest.
"I apologize, gentlemen," Said Reed Richards, Mr. Fantastic. The alarm faded
out along with the cage. "You are expected, but I'm afraid Pier 4's
security systems must need repairing."
"That's alright, sir," Bob said, though he was tired of that part of his
past. "Nuklo used to be a big enough threat, and I haven't even been officially
reformed that long." Reed was going to nod, but as he was looking off-screen, he
slowed down and read something very intently. "What's up, doctor?"
"...It's just that...These intruder readings. They weren't for Nuklo.
We have your file updated." Reed looked back at them, over Nuklo's shoulder at
the blonde boy. "Our computers say the Crusader is out there with you."
Bob flinched.
"The who...?"
"Okay! Fine!" Matt threw his arms up in the air, his sleeves falling back to
reveal two small wristbands. He came into view and was a vaguely familiar sight
for Reed. "I was a criminal too. I went crazy and fought the Fantastic
Four...That's how I died[5].
You would go crazy too if you you went through what I did. And I had
radiation poisoning." Matt crossed his arms and huffed up. "There. Are you
happy?"
Bob and Reed were both staring at him, not a man or boy. Bob made a smirk.
"Yeah, that'll do." He turned back to the screen. "Don't worry, sir, Matt's with
me. I can vouch for him. He's working for Mr. Dickson too."
"Of course...I spoke to Bruce earlier today. I'll let you in." The door slid
open, and Bob led Matt inside, which was much nicer than the outside. Mr.
Fantastic appeared from another door and approached them. He didn't look like
he'd shaved in a few days. He and Bob shook hands, then he and Matt.
"I'd inquire as to your return and your new wristbands, Matt," Reed said.
"But science gossip around here hasn't led to much happiness recently[6]."
Matt was, though he wouldn't admit it, tongue-tied.
"I...Well, I built them myself..."
Bob brought his hand down from his ear. "Mr. Richards, I'm sorry. Mr. Dickson
just contacted me and it looks like we're going to need to hurry."
Reed nodded. "Of course. And please tell him I'm glad to see my communicators
put to use." He turned and waited for them to follow. "Come. The lab is this
way." They did, and Matt pulled on Bob's shirt for his attention, whispering.
"What is it? What did he say?" Bob kept taking his huge strides as they
entered a lab full of indentical robots.
"He said he needs back at the building. Immediately."
"Ah! Here we are, gentlemen," Reed said, turning around with something like a
harness in his hands. It was metal and very sturdy. He handed it to Bob. "If you
would, ask him to tell me how he likes it. I'm more than a little curious as to
the effects of age on an elastic body."
"Understandable," Bob said, taking the invention and looking at it. "I'll
tell him. I think this is going to be getting plenty of action soon."
The Dickson Building stood one-hundred stories tall. Kayla was on the 25th,
approaching the 42nd. She had counted each one as she ran past them. Having only
been to Mr. Dickson's office one time before, she was going by memory here, but
she figured she had the right one when she saw, through the window...Well, she
saw a lot. But foremost she saw an elongated form of yellow and green snaking
its way into a metal harness. Others stood by.
So. There were others. She circled around, rectified herself, and held
her breath as she vibrated through the window.
"...Feels fine," Were the first words she heard as she entered the large
office, coming from who she recognized as Bruce Dickson: funder, annoyance,
businessman, and apparently sometimes still the Thin Man. The others turned
around, revealing mostly new faces.
"Um, yeah. Hi." Kayla stood and sized things up. There was their mentor. Who
else? The man in the black mask, standing further away from the others, was
obviously their brooding loner. The blonde kid in blue and red, their teenage
wasteland. The strong guy, of course. But the girl nearest Dickson...
Skin like coffee with plenty of milk, hair in dreadlocks of varying
thickness. She wore the colors of the flag, a star on her chest, and there were
red feathers draped all along from her back on through to her wrists. They
looked natural. Her eyes were slitted and pronounced, like they could stab Kayla
right there. She was going to be something different.
So what would Kayla be? And what exactly is it she was going to be a part of?
She asked Mr. Dickson with her eyes. As he was about to answer, the big one she
recognized as Nuklo spoke. "Who is she supposed to be?"
Kayla set down her bag of street clothes and toothbrush. "I'm the..." And
then it hit her. Nuklo's dad...Oh man. She said it anyway, since her yellow with
a "W" wasn't exactly original. "The Whizzer." Nuklo looked away from her to Mr.
Dickson, who stood from behind his desk and touched Nuklo's shoulder.
"It was my idea, Bob," He said. "You can worry about it later. We have
a situation."
"Who is 'we'?" Marvel Boy asked. "I wasn't recruited for a
team." Bruce gave him a look like a parent.
"Yes you were. You just weren't aware of it. Now are we done? Or does anyone
else need to show they've got cahones and testosterone? Because we don't have
the time." He looked around. "What about you, Challenger? Nothing?" He pointed
to the masked man.
"I'm here to help. That's all."
Bruce walked towards the middle of the room. "Right. So: You've each been
funded by the Dickson Foundation for some time in your careers, Challenger
aside. I've guided you seperately so far, but I can't do that now. What I need
is a team...One willing to work together." He looked around for an
objection and found none. Bruce continued.
"American Eagle found something today," He said, nodding to the feathered
young woman. "Something someone should have expected before." The
bird-girl spoke in a hoarse, confident voice.
"I was flying over the Atlantic when I saw it: A giant vessel at sea. It
couldn't have been from Earth. I saw..." She shook her head. "I saw
gorillas, or something like that, on its surface. They didn't notice me.
Then the ship submerged...It looked like it was good for sea and air."
"I fought this same race in the 40's. They're called Jernites," Dickson said,
garvely. "And they're not to be taken lightly. Super-strong, tough, and
completely dedicated to their religion...And to destroying anyone who
believes differently. A group of twelve managed to embarass the entire Liberty
Legion[7].
We're expecting an entire fleet."
"And we're just now doing something?" Whizzer asked. "We should be out
there this minute."
"They're preparing," Dickson said. "That's my best guess. We're going
to have to locate their ship and stop them before they start."
"I'm afraid it may be to late for that," Someone said. The voice was very
close to Kayla, and when she turned, the first thing she saw was a blade,
connected to a long wooden bo, then the stone cold face. She jumped.
"Agh!" Floating right behind her was a robed man. He looked down over them
all. Kayla jabbed him with her finger.
"Jesus!Youscaredthehelloutofmeyoudon'tjustdothat..." He eyed her finger
touching him at superspeed with annoyance, and when Whizzer noticed, she slowed,
stopped, and backed away.
"How the hell did you get in here?" Bruce asked. He'd never had an
intruder he didn't want. The robed man made no movement.
"No place is closed to Father Time." He sighed. "I...Am here to help,
even though you don't know me. I've foreseen events..."
"We can do without." Dickson folded his arms and scowled. "They're already
strangers enough. We don't need one of you "cosmic duty" types." Father
Time slowly hovered over to Bruce, just close enough to see the color of his
eyes.
"Would you do that again, Bruce Dickson? Deny the help of a stranger because
you don't know them?" Bruce's eyes grew wide. He knew? "Think if you had
done that in the first place, what would have happened when you first
encountered the Jernites. Or if they," He motioned to everyone in the room, "did
the same now? They don't know each other. But you expect them to work together
anyway. So allow me to help...for you own sake."
The Thin Man stammered. "How...?"
"You may not know me, Thin Man," Father Time said. "That doesn't mean I don't
know you."
Marvel Boy stepped in. "You said we're too late." Father Time nodded
gravely. "How? All we have to do is find..."
The office door slammed open and a young woman, Bruce's secretary, came in.
She was pale and looked like she had eaten something that didn't agree with her.
"Mr. Dickson!" She cried shrilly. "On the TV...They said.....!"
"What is it, Donna?" He asked. The whole scene focused on the
stumbling secretary. She finally pulled it together.
"...They're attacking downtown. Practically an army." Donna didn't
need to go into detail. They knew what it meant. Father Time had known. It
wasn't allowed to sink in for long, as the Thin Man turned around and pulled his
costume over his hair.
"Then we're out of town. Everyone put on your best fighting face and get
ready." He sounded less than enthusiastsic. "We're going downtown."
"So that's it?" Kayla asked. "Boom: We're a team?" The feathered girl looked
at her like she was offended.
"That's it. Boom: We're a team. If that's what gets the job done."
Father Time cut in. "I can get us there as quick as anything else...All at
once, as well."
Bruce began again. "We don't need you to..." But with a rip
there was already a door, one that everyone else had no problem taking. This is
what the wild cards always did: They ruined the order. Silently, reluctantly,
the Thin Man walked through the tear in his office, staring at its maker the
whole way before dissappearing. Father Time was the last out. He shut the door
behind him.
Oklahoma City
The TV glared. A special report? Come on, The Simpsons was on, and it
was that really good one where Bart had his own warehouse and...Then a
man's face appeared on the screen, a reporter who was sweating, visibly shaken.
The bottom of the screen said he was live from New York.
"...Where an entire horde of gorilla-like creatures has taken to the
streets, burning and looting all it can." Screams and other sounds of
destruction were heard in the background. She hadn't seen anything yet, though,
so maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe...Maybe...
"The heathens will burns," A voice said off-screen. It was deep and rough,
practically yelling. The camera followed it jerkily to a tower of muscle and
hair, dressed in green trim. "All that is not obedient in the eye of Seitsu will
burn! A Jernite world...A Jernite empire!" Not a
coincidence. The picture was lost to its fists. Then the sound.
Trinda Queen sat back in her chair, stunned for a moment. It turned into
calm, then annoyance. This was what they would get. She fiddled with her
pendant and wondered when The Simpsons would come back on.
I wish I could have given you guys a little more this issue, in the way of action and all. But this sort of thing needs to be done when you're pulling a team together, especially one that's comprised of so many original characters. Almost any questions you have about them right now were left vague on purpose, and most of them will be answered as we go along. When the time is right, I'll start including characters bios in here.
These characters are definitely a lot of fun for me to write, and I know that as I go along they'll come even more naturally. They have to grow together, and so do I with them. Some are already good enough to be spotlighted, in my opinion...Something you can expect to happen both in anthologies and the Liberty Legion ongoing, once it starts up.
I promise next issue will run more smoothly, as well as include more actual occurences. We'll see the team really together for the first time, and...Well, you'll see :) As ever, thanks for reading, and please send me your letters, reviews, or just general thoughts, no matter what they might be.
Alan Downs
March 3, 2002
Next Issue: A showdown in downtown NYC yields disasterous results, leaving hope to possibly rely only on the one least likely to help as mistakes of yesteryear come into play. First chapter of "New Under the Sun".
[1] Marvel Boy was a member of the 1958 Avengers. Their adventures at MV1's Tapestry Branch, written by Bob Gansler, can be found here.
[2] Both the Avengers and Fantastic Four were thought
dead when they dissapeared following the battle with Onslaught during
"Onslaught" crossover event.
[3] The FF moved into their new HQ, Pier 4, in MV1's own
Fantastic
Four #421, written by Mark "Biscuit" Bousquet.
[4] Father Time recently discovered that he was a
Swedish orphan "adopted" and rasied by Immortus in Limbo and also dealt with
novice time-traveler Johnathan York in "Ripples", a storyline in MV1's Mighty
World of Marvel #345-346.
[5] In his first modern age appearance, Marvel Boy
returned as the Crusader after awakening from suspended animation. Before that,
he founnd his father, his adoptive people the Uranian Eternals, and girlfriend
dead, and in his rage went crazy, battling the FF and ultimately dying in
Marvel's Fantastic Four #164-165.
[6] You can see just what Mr. Fantastic is talking about
in MV1's Fantastic Four
#440, also by Mark Bousquet and out this same "month" in MV1 continuity,
where Reed has given Alicia Masters some very sad news.
[7] As was told last
issue, the Liberty Legion encountered an expedition crew of Jernites in
1942. Only with the help of the Queen, whose pendant was made of the race's only
weakness, were they defeated.