Doc Doctor

silence - YANCY VS. DONNY

@LeeRoy

-Donny shook his head and quickly pulled his hand out of his jacket, holding a wallet. He'd flip it open and show his false (but legit looking) FDA badge to Yancy. He'd address the bum without any trace of an accent, an air of lawful authority in his voice and demeanor.-

"Wrong. I'm agent Jamie Carson. Don't worry, I won't arrest you if you cooperate. I don't give a shit that you're clearly on drugs either, I don't have time for that. What I do give a shit about is that you seem to know about 'First-Degree', and that this train inexplicably lost power. Is he after you, son? Do you know what happened? Seen anything?"

-Donny would carefully move closer, and unless he was interrupted, would put his wallet back and on its place take out a silver flask bound in black leather. He'd continue speaking if allowed, using a much more calming and friendly tone.-

"Just take it easy now, I'm sure you're stressed. How about a drink? You like whisky son?"

~FDD~

First-Degree Donny

Name: Donovan Booth
Aliases: 'First-Degree' Donny, The Hand of Deceit
Age: Late thirties
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 174 pounds
Boxing Reach: 75"
Dominant Hand: Originally left handed but trained to become ambidextrous
Race: Human
Alignment: Neutral Evil



Appearance: Donny is a peculiar individual, at most times appearing unassuming and quaint to put other people at ease. The real Donny is lurid, reptilian, with an almost unearthly presence that thickens the blood and chills the spine. His dull green eyes are set in a pale, freckled baby-face, his strange tranquility offset by a porno mustache and sprayed back ginger hair which curls up at the ends, Samhain flames licking at the nape of his neck. He tends to sport a languid grin and frequently wears black pants and dress shoes with suspenders and black gloves, in addition to a knee-length black trench coat or overcoat depending on the weather. He's a fan of ties and speaks with a very pronounced Downeast accent. His fingerprints have been surgically altered to not register on any recorded database. His predatory slouch and liquid motion lend him the impression of a shadow on the wall, a person from a different, darker spectrum than those around him.

Personality: It is said that at the heart of all warfare lies deception. Donny at first seems to be some kind of embarrassing dad, the kind of gawky adult that could be found doing jumping jacks in neon dolphin shorts down at the local YMCA and missing hoops. This is a strength. Hardly anyone ever suspects just how obscenely dangerous he really is behind the eccentricities.

Best described as a consummate overachiever, he's audacious in the extreme if only because he understands nothing and no-one is beyond his reach, a blood soaked engine of efficiency which processes victims like cakes on a conveyor belt. He's entirely unchained by morality or the legal system and holds himself to no authority but his own. He follows orders only because he likes having something to do, and what he likes to do is kill. Killing is who he is, his reason to get up every morning. As long as there is violence in the distance he will allow others to give him direction, for a price. To him money is just another tool to be used for the hunt, a means to an end.

He's outrageously crafty and as mean as an Arizona rattler, albeit with a nigh unbreechable calmness some would call blissful detachment, though on an emotional level he's wholly into his job. He loves his profession more intimately than any broad. He has an excellent poker face and never allows himself into a situation that he hasn't control over, though his idea of control is quite different to what others may envision. To Donny, any advantage is an overwhelming one.

Though socially passable by modern standards, he has no qualms about being a public nuisance for his own amusement. To him the world is an oyster to be cracked open and devoured, all structures and values rescinded before his will. He inserts himself into the heart of any matter that interests him, a blade out of the gloom with no regards for whose ribs it slips between.

He enjoys smoking but only does so before and after a kill. He refrains from hard drugs and inebriation, the dopamine rush of taking lives his only addiction. He's fond of riding first-class at the airport and is partial to black women, black coffee, and black suits. His whimsies can at times extend into the absurd, such as when he dons garish short shorts in public, attends karaoke night, crafts model airplanes just to crash them, and joins highway blocking protests as a screaming zealot with nary a care for the cause.

Being an adrenaline junkie he prefers to personally do his own dirty work, solo and present at the scene of the carnage. When on a job or encountering a threat he becomes perfectly merciless and unflinchingly applies every practical means available to destroy his target, no matter the cost to innocent life. This shift isn't a visible one and Donny may never show any kind of outward change from when he decides to kill. He could be in the midst of laughing, crying, or even snoring when he attacks.

Relaxing after a job he becomes far more sociable, friendly even. Down at the local watering hole he's considered by more than a few regulars to be a splendid wingman who'll give you a safe, comfortable drive home if you're drunk. He's virtually a different person in his downtime, akin to the way keeping a crocodile satiated makes it less dangerous.
When Donny's at ease, everyone's at ease, so long as they know him only as a stranger and not a professional.

Gear

Weapons and Equipment-

-The weight of his combined personal gear is around twenty-two pounds, discounting the clothes, vest, and satchel. His suspenders help distribute and relieve the weight of his equipment.

-A .454 Magnum Mateba auto-revolver loaded with .45 Colt 325 grain Buffalo Bore cartridges. It has a 6" barrel, titanium firing cylinder, a light trigger pull, and is kept in a Mernickle quick draw holster worn on the right thigh. Donny additionally carries one XTP Hornady clip and one Lehigh defense Xtreme Penetrator clip. His suspender straps are stocked with six of each individual bullet type including the Buffalo Bore.



-Custom Electronic Earplugs. Crafted to a perfect fit, they enhance Donny's hearing to be on par with a cat's and automatically dilute sounds above harmful decibel range, filtering them down to a manageable level.

-Ruger-57. A semi-automatic pistol in a Safariland ALS duty holster on his left thigh, loaded with 10+1 5.7×28mm SS190 duty cartridges. It ejects to the left and has been modified with a Victory Trigger. He carries one additional magazine.



-Unfiltered Camel soft pack cigarettes in his shirt pocket.

-Zippo lighter in his right back pocket.

-A roll of quarters in his left pants pocket.

-Laser protective sunglasses in his shirt pocket.

-The inside of his fedora is lined with compressed polyethylene plating, providing IIA protection.

-Duplicate Federal Narcotics Agent badge pinned to his button up shirt under his coat.

-Portable respirator gas mask that snaps discretely onto the back of his belt.

-An eight ounce flask of purified lamp oil on the right side of his belt.

-Digital recorder preset with several realistic two-hour tracks in his back coat pocket, includes pained sounds, occasional coughing and snorting, casual and serious phone conversations, a muffled voice, muffled whimpering, and whistling.

-A high powered 66,600 volt 7 milliamp taser with an effective range of 25 feet holstered at his left side. It can be set to pulse from anywhere between 5 seconds to 5 minutes and causes excruciating pain and neuromuscular incapacitation. It's fatal to most Earthly creatures if a probe strikes the heart or eye.

-Belt buckle knife.



-Para Aramid protective equipment including elbow guards, knee guards, and a cup.

-Two specially constructed 1.2 ml polymer titanium needle syringes filled with VX nerve agent secured to the inside of his right thigh by a small strap.

-Set of titanium cable wire handcuffs secured to the front of his belt and two spare keys. One key is stitched into his overcoat on the right side and the other is stitched into his left pants pocket.

-Trench coat with holes in the side pockets and twelve razor blades stitched into the collar. His shirt has razors in the collar as well.

-iPhone strapped to his left bicep with an armband.

-He drives a black matte Dodge Magnum fitted with darkened bulletproof windows, tires, and paneling, hydraulics to raise or lower the suspension, and an electric 300 horsepower induction motor. Goes from 0-60 in 2.7 seconds, makes very little noise compared to gas engine vehicles, and accelerates backwards as fast as it can go forwards. It has a remote control unit, which Donny can activate and use via his iPhone. Donny may also observe what's in front of the vehicle as the mounted dashcam (disguised as a hula girl) transmits live to his phone. The dashcam may also switch to infrared or night vision.



-ZM-87. Masquerading as flood lights on the roof of the car are two customized ZM-87 Laser Disturbers, blinding neodymium laser devices developed by China that were banned in 1995 by the UN. They can be aimed simultaneously or separately from inside the car and remotely.



-Explosively Formed Penetrator (EFP). This Iranian weapon is fitted under the hood of the car. The Dodge Magnum's grill is secretly a non-circular tantalum bar liner, which can be launched by plastic explosive into a large, clothespin shaped slug that impacts its target at Mach 6. The detonation damages the car beyond functionality but doesn't set off the C4 headrests to due their high stability.



-A 6,000 lumen flashlight secured to the inside of his right side coat pocket by a strap. It has a custom tactical rail attached, and can be connected to the top of the Magnum's barrel or to his bullpup rifle.

-Unscoped Tavor X95 bullpup rifle, with one spare .300 BLK 30-round magazine kept in his car. One magazine consists of Hornady Blacks, the other 110 grain CBJ.



-Modified UTAS UTS-15 automatic shotgun with flash suppressor, silencer, and 32 round drum. Kept in a unique zipper satchel that Donny may wear slung over his back.

-.950 JDJ rifle with four depleted uranium penetrator rounds, one always being loaded. This 85 pound scoped hunting rifle is kept on a tripod and takes up the trunk and rear seating space of Donny's vehicle, which he's never far from.



-Four unmarked pull-pin grenades with welded on rings (for ring clips) and optional tripwires, stored around his belt. One M67 fragmentation grenade, one M18 smoke grenade, one M-14 napalm grenade, and one VX gas grenade with adjustable fuse delay. Donny can remotely detonate the VX gas grenade using his watch or activate a slow release with varying degrees of output. VX is considered the deadliest chemical weapon on Earth and is deemed a Weapon of Mass Destruction. With a strong breeze the grenade can entirely exterminate all life within an area the size of a city block. As it can kill from mere skin contact, Donny's practical use of the weapon is limited.



-A WASP Injection Knife sheathed within his left pants pocket and secured by a small strap. It has a 5.25" blade and can inject 12g of compressed CO2 gas at 800 PSI into an opponent through a channel in the blade.



-A white handkerchief and a one ounce aerosol bottle of cyanide secured in place within his right pocket by a small strap, (disguised as nose spray).

-Retractable high-density spear made from graphene. It's 45 inches long at full extension and weighs 34 ounces. It's ten inches in length when retracted. It has a ring clip on the base of the retractable pommel and is worn at the belt near Donny's right hip.



-A twenty-eight foot reel of microfilament garrote wire with a diameter of two microns, concealed within a wristwatch that can be withdrawn via a black ring (disguised as part the watch frame). It's virtually invisible to the naked eye, lighter than a strand of spider silk, able to cut through collagen fibers like butter, and can withstand up to 4,200 pounds of tension without breaking. It's made from several interwoven, multi-walled carbon nanocables made from CNT shells that have been subjected to high energy irradiation. Donny can control how much is extracted and retracted with the interface of his watch. He can also remove the wire spool from the watch at a moment's notice. The wire is threaded into the ring with a small catch and release mechanism. He usually wears his watch on the underside of his left wrist and carries a spare wire reel.



-Spring loaded five-inch knives within the heels and toes of his shoes that will jut out and lock in place when a switch on the instep is triggered. The soles of his shoes are padded with rubber to muffle his steps.



-Pair of black, insulated, quarter-pound S.A.P combat gloves weighted with steel shot. They're fashioned from a high density polymer that can resist being cut by the garrote wire.

-Discreet level 3 alumina ceramic armor plates in a lightweight aramid weave plate carrier beneath his shirt, covering his torso front and back. The thermoplastic aramid and carbon fiber strike face helps prevent cracks and spall.

-A 22 gram bottle of fluoroantimonic acid synthesized into gel, secured by a small strap to the inside of his left side coat pocket. It has a safety valve and actuator, as may be seen on most cans of pepper spray. The acid spray has a ten foot range and the gel form helps prevent blowback.

-Circular six inch shaving mirror in his right pocket.

-Five adhesive C4 bombs, which can be remotely detonated via digital watch or set with a timer. Each brick-shaped bomb is explosive enough to scrap a minivan or disable a tank, being equivalent to two C4 parcels. Four are kept in his car (disguised as headrests) and he keeps one on his person, strapped to the small of his back.

Physical Abilities/Skills: As a former Green Beret he diligently trains to stay in peak condition and is a grandmaster of unconventional warfare, as well as an expert on improvised, civilian, and military weaponry. He's a world class gunslinger with a level of manual dexterity and slight of hand most often attributed to master street magicians. Donny's extremely deceptive, excelling in both acting and psychological warfare, in addition to having an eidetic memory combined with a formidable spatial sense. He fights dirty and abuses any advantages without hesitation. Concealed weaponry, surprise attacks, anything goes. The sheer unwarranted ruthlessness alone is enough to take most opponents off guard, his go-to solution for any troublemaker an immediate bullet to the skull.

Eighteen years of experience in combat as an elite professional killer. 122 confirmed kills in Afghanistan alone. His cognitive abilities are so acute that he may shoot a man dead one moment and pass through an interrogation the next, and his pulse of 40 BPM wouldn't rise at all. He has low latent inhibition, able to rapidly process stimuli and read high intensity situations as if they were children's books. Furthermore he can memorize and dissolve information to its core components at a glance, create intricate and multi-layered strategies at a moment's notice, and with sufficient preparation could bring down an entire first world country's infrastructure single-handedly.

Through experience he's become able to discern body language and microexpressions as well. The few associates who personally know him have come to believe he can see into the future, and into the hearts and minds of men. FBI profilers and forensic behavior consultants alike have tried and failed to so much as tickle his heels.

Though he's an immensely gifted hand-to-hand fighter with years of Combatives Program training, he by far prefers mid-range firefights. He's a true dead-eye with his selected firearms and can hit a bottle cap at ninety-one meters with his revolver, the weapon he favors above all others. Such is his skill with the gun that he can draw and accurately fire within a quarter of a second, his hand withstanding 12 Gs of force in the process.

Donny specializes in 'point shooting', an intuitive style of practical shooting wherein the marksman hones their proprioceptive reflex and hand-eye coordination to quickly and accurately identify and shoot a threat without need of sights or hesitation. It could be said that in this way he's versed in the Gunslinger's Code; to aim with your eye, shoot with your mind, kill with your heart. Murder turned reflex, a concentration so intense it bores holes through matter and life at will.
Indeed, he doesn't even need to look at a target to shoot them with pinpoint precision, so long as he knows their position he can triangulate pinpoint attacks by way of high speed logistical analysis.

Lastly, as a ginger, Donny has no soul.

Background: When a young Donny first asked himself what he wanted to be when he grew up, he found that he could answer the question immediately. He didn't think he was going to be a killer, he knew it as a fact. He was born in Bangor, Maine, his father a U.S Marine and his mother a sickly, stay at home wife. He was often unsupervised and frequently engaged in less than saintly activities. Teachers were astounded at his strange combination of emotional maturity and blatant lack of morals, a hostile alien in the midst of an unsuspecting world. He quickly learned how to make them think he was a swell kid. In his youth he won several national marksman championships, a prodigal gunslinger with a chain lightning draw and an almost supernatural focus. As soon as he was old enough he joined the military and proved good at what he did to say the least.

He eventually became a Green Beret and served Special Forces in Iraq and Afghanistan. He was given a dishonorable discharge for publicly undefined civil misdemeanors. After his discharge he settled into Las Vegas like a tick on a mongrel. He found quick work as a crime syndicate hit man that dispatched anyone who filched on their gambling debts, seizing their assets for himself along with 25% of however much money they owed to his employers, plus expenses. From this he garnered a sinister reputation which decreased business at first, but it proved a simple matter later on for higher ups to conceal his involvement in most of the deaths. The consistency of his work easily made up for any gamblers he slew or scared away by proxy.

Whenever he wasn't popping filchers he was taking up hits. Assassinations of all kinds were welcome, no limits. He grew into the role of an underworld boogeyman, dreaded to such an extent that the Mafia dares not double-cross him. Cartel kingpins with multi-billion dollar empires and dictators alike flinch at the mention of his sobriquet. Some even choose to believe that the existence of the unstoppable hitman is merely an urban legend. The more wild tales venture to say, on top of everything else, he's been contracted to kill paranormal beings too.

Another urban legend recounts how he was ambushed by twenty heavily armed men after being frisked for weapons and placed into an isolated, windowless, and soundproofed room hidden in an underground complex, under the pretense of meeting a now dead crime boss. Why Donny allowed himself to be disarmed in unknown. It is said he left without a scratch, inexplicably killing every trained gunman in the room in under thirty seconds by wildly varying means despite every precaution they took to render him helpless, including binding him to a chair with leather belts and duct tape. Though the building had a camera in every corner, video evidence of the encounter was never found.

Local police and state investigators, to avoid mass casualties, opt to stay out of his business. The way they see it, no possible confrontation with him could result in anything less than a catastrophe at the very least rivaling 9/11. The Feds were only called in once after he decapitated a state senator, and never again after having eight dozen of their own later slaughtered in an incident so brutally embarrassing it was wiped from the records and in Donny's place a patsy was tossed to the dogs, a cover-up being the only way to preserve the public's respect for the government. After all, those in the highest echelons of power knew that at any time they could receive a complimentary visit from one of the deadliest men on the planet.

A few shady organizations whisper of ways to meet him. Ways to summon him, hire him. They say First-Degree Donny can kill anyone anywhere, within two weeks regardless of their location or importance. It could be a hobo in the ghetto or the leader of a nation. It could come in the form of an accident, a suicide, a flagrant murder. His services represent an order that defies hierarchy and forces the hand of fate. Any name may be offered, but be sure you can pay the price.

silence - YANCY VS. DONNY

@LeeRoy

-The power was cut. The train was slowing down, dimly lit. Alternating blocks of light and shadow cast a carousel's roundabout throughout the train car as the outside illumination passed by. Like an apparition, Donny seemed to appear in the middle of the car as one last wave of darkness was chased away. The train eased to a stop. The hitman's hands were deep in his pockets and he was standing as still as a corpse in his predatorial slouch. He didn't have the element of surprise anymore. He didn't have all of his weapons either. His girlfriend had taken them whilst he was passed out from the sleeping pills she'd drugged his nightly baking soda water with. Fucking indigestion. She'd wanted him to take a day off, refused to tell him where his shit was. Women.
It figured that the one person he'd rather not kill had compromised his profession. He'd let her off the hook, accepting that he was going to take the day off. Yet here he was, sharing this train with someone on his hit list. He'd have to make do.-

silence - YANCY VS. DONNY

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silence - YANCY VS. DONNY

Setting- A subway train. There are no passengers in the car they start in.

Battle Theme- None.

Format

Oryp Auryx Fartmack

Name: Oryp Auryx Fartmack
Age:
Height:
Weight:
Boxing Reach:
Race:
Dominant Hand:
Weapons and Equipment-

Appearance-

Physical Abilities/Powers-

Physical Ability-

Powers-

Personality-

Theme Song-

Diddly Do

@Hokum

-Donny regarded Fanny with animal complacency, twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers as he absently looked towards the dancers from his little dark corner. Up close his eyes were unfocused. His gaze was even and neutral, seeing everything before him as a whole, ready to pick out threats and victims alike.-

"So yah know when he'll be where he's goin'. How abaowt yah let ol' Donneh know a bit more. About you, and what you're doin' heeyuh. Maybah yah just wannah see some changes, and yah figure Ah'll help? Sure, sure. But Ah work for a price, an' Ah don't appreciate goin' in dark. So Ah dunno what yah got up yah sleeve, but Ah'll tell yah what. Give meh Pycin's location aftah Ah finish mah business with Dino, an' Ah won't charge for it."

Diddly Do

@Hokum

-It was a half hour before Dino recieved a reply from Donny. It too was from a secure channel. Nothing indicated that Donny had used the transect they knew he had to go anywhere else, though they knew not of the second one. Dino might have gotten word of a disturbance in the sector shortly before recieving the video. Donny was in a girl's restroom. He must have got her when she came in unawares. Sharp grunts of effort from Donny. Heavy muted thuds. The female's shirt had a few red stains. She had her arms drawn in and eyes swollen shut, obviously delirious and only half conscious, tethered only to reality by pain. Her mouth was a bloody excavation pit and her nose pancaked to one side. She was slumped on a toilet. Her screams of animal pain were breathless to the point of sounding like wheezing, gutteral moans and groans. More heavy thuds. He was pounding her with his weighted fists like she was raw meat, working the body to kill her noise. Donny had first learned how to work someone over during a visit to Texas. It had been an educational experience, seeing a cartel at work. Beating a body with your own two hands is an effective way to break someone's will. Torture doesn't have to be fancy. It should be basic, primal.
He paused two minutes into the beating and withdrew a black metal cylinder with an odd knob from his coat. It extended and locked into place. Her arms jutted out stiff and her body arched as he struck her in the jaw with the club. That meant brain damage. She slid to the floor like a board and made no more sounds. He began stamping his heel into her torso. Someone banged the bathroom door open and the video ended as Donny presumably escaped to somewhere else. Shortly after the video arrived, so did a text message.-

"Big boys don't play games. Teleport down to the planet fully nude, alone, and unarmed in twenty minutes, then notify me unless you want to see what a flaying is from the perspective of a little one. You can see your own lungs and heart moving when it's done right. Once you've arrived, enter the station where we first met. You'll lie on your face and a man will arrive soon to shoot you where you lay. There is to be no delay, no exception, no second warning. Nobody else needs to be hurt, but that's your decision now."

Diddly Do

@Hokum

-Donny's mouth twitched at the corner and a single vein throbbed on his forehead, but otherwise there was no emotion on his face. Pycin had trusted someone else with the knowledge of this task, maybe others. This meant that Dino would be preparing, or prepared. Donny wondered if he should need to wait a few months to see if his target would let their guard down. No. That was too long. Once contracted, he never took more than two weeks, it was his personal rule and the rule of K9. But... These were exceptional circumstances. He was in space with aliens, and alien technology. There was still so much he didn't know. But even if he did make an exception, he didn't feel comfortable with the bomb inside him. It'd be best to try and strike before Dino was fully prepared, as soon as possible. Donny knew there were only two qualifications you had to meet to kill someone. The first was to have as much force as you could obtain, enough to surely kill the target. The second was to have the means to efficiently deliver this force to the target. Donny had been given both in one package.
Donny teleported into his shuttle and left the hangar. He adjusted the coordinates. He took the necessary measures to prepare the ship for interstellar flight. Everything was ready for the Light Speed Flux. Before he initiated it, he allowed himself a sardonic aside-glance in the direction the ship was going to travel...-

"I wondah how fah in space ghosts will travel to haunt a person?"

-With bone-chilling indifference he activated the flux and then, as the four second countdown he'd set began, fired the disruptors at the point of impact and then teleported off the shuttle and into the civilian vessel he'd last been on, in a cafeteria bathroom. He'd never have thought that he'd live to see lightspeed travel, let alone use it to launch a shuttle like a kinetic weapon into his target. Dino likely had his defenses up, but how can one defend against a collision at the speed of light from above? Maybe it might even harm the planet below. That would help Donny get his point across should Dino somehow survive. He could communicate with Dino, and thanks to his transect, had his pick of any hostages in any quantity that suited him. He'd made up his mind the moment he'd been contracted to kill Dino with his own life at stake. It had been like a switch, abruptly flicked to turn a bright room into a black one. This time around he would be indiscriminate. He would utilize the very most powerful asset he had, the asset that governed his very existence. The capacity to kill. To kill at will, on a whim, without remorse. Dino was strong and intelligent, but the others were sheep by comparison. If he began losing his flock, wouldn't the shepherd put his life as stake? At least it might enrage Dino, disturb his thoughts and push him to act out his emotional content.
Once the remaining moments had passed, Donny began interacting with his transect, attempting to see if he could contact Pycin. He needed to get Dino's contact information.-

Diddly Do

@Hokum

-Donny was a light sleeper. It was an old habit, and one he valued. Regardless, he decided not to shoot at the entity with the Glock under his pillow. It had entered without his knowledge, without being cut by any of the razor wires that provided security throughout his room. Instead, when he sat up in brief surprise, he quickly steeled his nerves and listened carefully. When the entity had finished addressing him and began to fade, Donny spoke back, his voice low and still husky from sleep.
His eyes were half lidded, but a gossamer sheen of sickly green malice radiated from behind them in the gloom, the killer casting a steady, baleful stare after the being. Sometimes, when he really felt the distance close in between him and his victim, when empathy illuminated the best way to give them a truly satisfactory death... Premeditated murder laid itself bare on his face, lending his expression a ghoulish slate of corpselike serenity. He could feel the heft of his own mortality, and the mortality of many others. He could feel their twists of dread, the same dread he'd seen on many faces throughout his career. There should be no such thing as a killer's pride. It's unprofessional. Donny took no offence at the being's perspective of him. He was a tool, after all. That being said, he felt his will harden, calcify into the unyielding bone of a leering skull. He dropped his accent and spoke clearly then.-

"You doubt my resolve...?"

-Donny had known what he was going to have to do from the moment he gave Dino his real name. It had been a last farewell, not an 'until we meet again'. This spirit or demon didn't didn't yet know that what was going to occur was a foregone conclusion. Donny wondered what else it didn't know.-