fault lines - sunsetuniverse - X-Men: The Animated Series (Cartoon 1992) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter Text

==͟͟͞͞ =͟͟͞͞ =͟͟͞͞ ( 🗲 =͟͟͞͞=͟͟͞͞=͟͟͞͞ #

Pietro Maximoff was not one to run away from a fight.

He would fight until he couldn’t anymore. Even if he was usually just playing support for the rest of X-Factor, he took pride in his role as the one who would get them out of a fight, ensuring that they saw another day.

But this—

He saw the explosion in his sister’s eyes before he saw it himself.

He could run at speeds of Mach 10 and it still wouldn't be enough to save all these people.

So, he did the only thing he could do at that moment. Without hesitation, Pietro lunged forward, his movements a blur as he grabbed hold of Wanda and propelled them away from the impending disaster. In the blink of an eye, they had vanished from the gala, leaving behind a trail of dust in their wake.

His thoughts briefly went to Magneto and all the other heroes inside, but he knew from experience that a single misstep or the slightest hesitation when running from an oncoming explosion was life and death. A sinister green light had filled the main hall, encompassing Magneto, Rogue, Archangel, Banshee—all of them were caught in the path of destruction. He had seen Madrox and Rahne somewhere too. He had to hope that they would be alright, that they would see the danger before the last second and protect themselves.

His priority is and always will be Wanda.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, fissures splitting open the once-solid earth as the world around them descended into chaos. His heart pounded in his chest as he navigated the treacherous terrain, cracks in the cement and dirt appearing and lifting, almost sending him off balance. He had to leap from rock to wall to rubble, from one crumbling surface to the next, Genosha shaking underneath him.

The air crackled with energy as the walls shattered around them, debris raining down like a deadly hailstorm. His instincts kicked into overdrive as he pushed his speed to its limits, his every muscle straining with the effort of carrying both himself and Wanda to safety.

She was clinging to his neck, hiding her face as he ran faster than he’d ever done before. She wasn’t used to this speed—he had always been careful to go slow when carrying her, knowing she’d feel sick afterwards. But now, there was no time for caution—only the urgent need to escape the fire that was hot at his heels.

He wasn’t fast enough— he’d done everything right leading up to this. Yet, upon seeing the colossal creature, this wild Sentinel— a monstrous behemoth that seemed to tower over them like a grim spectre of death — aiming at the gala with deadly intent, a surge of fear gripped his heart like a vice. Suddenly all of Pietro's training felt woefully inadequate in the face of such overwhelming power.

Pietro tripped.

His foot caught on some stray chunk of debris, sending them tumbling to the ground in a whirlwind of motion. He hugged Wanda’s body close, cradling her head as he lost his concentration. Time sped up, and the world tilted on its axis.

It hurt. He hadn’t fallen out of his superspeed and into a fall since before X-Factor and the Avengers. It had been early days for himself and Wanda; barely adults and hiding out in a small village, trying to live. He had slipped in the snow trying to save a girl from crashing into a tree—and just like back then, Wanda threw her arm out, a red aura around her fingertips as they tumbled into a nearby river bank instead of the piling rubble.

The destruction on the surface was muffled by the water in his ears, fragments of wreckage shooting through the water and swirling around them in a deadly dance. Pietro's head throbbed with a sharp, stinging pain at his temple, the sensation intensifying with each distant explosion.

As the darkness of the depths enveloped them, he struggled to orient himself, the murky waters obscuring his vision and clouding his thoughts. Water flooded his lungs, suffocating and stunning him in equal measure, while the weight of his soaked clothing dragged him further into the abyss. The one time he tried to dress nice and the clothes were weighing him down.

An arm slithered its way around his chest, pulling him up. Wanda —

With a desperate effort, she broke through the water's surface, gasping for air as she dragged him out of the river and onto solid ground. She panted, rolling him on his back, crying out words that he couldn't hear. Her hands frantically touched his neck and face, searching for why he was so limp.

Pietro found himself struggling to draw breath, his chest constricting with a crippling force. He felt a pressure on his sternum, pushing down and—forcing the water out. He choked some out, but not enough. Red sparks flickered in his peripherals, and then all the water abruptly surged up his throat, making him roll on his side, choking and sputtering onto the dirt.

He gagged, the remnants of the water dribbling out of his mouth. Each cough sent ripples of pain through his chest. A gentle hand rubbed his back encouragingly, his sister’s voice whispering to him, calming him. There was only that single moment of peace, however, as another explosion caused the earth to shake even more, shockwaves rippling through the ground as more rubble and debris rained down around them, crashing perilously close to the riverbank.

“sh*t,” he breathed, voice hoarse. The Sentinel— Father—

“Oh, god,” Wanda whispered, covering her mouth with trembling hands. All around them, the air reverberated with the shrilling roar of the blast, each explosion a deafening symphony that blasted their eardrums and rattled their very souls.

Pietro instinctively turned towards his sister, pulling her close against his chest protectively. With gentle hands, he covered her ears, shielding her from the genocide that resonated all around them. But even as he sought to protect her, Pietro could feel his own heart in his ears, aching with every laboured breath he struggled to draw—each beat a thunderous drumroll that threatened to overwhelm his senses.

Inhaling deeply, he forced himself to focus on the sensation of air filling his lungs, allowing time to slow to a crawl around him as he fought to regain control. Everyone was in danger, and the chaos surrounding them only seemed to intensify with each passing moment. Civilians scrambled in panic, their cries and footsteps echoing through the streets as they fled.

His gaze shifted upwards towards the towering behemoth that loomed over the city, its presence casting a shadow of dread over all who beheld it. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the mutants who circled the monstrous Sentinel, their forms darting between the fallen buildings as they worked tirelessly to aid the fleeing people.

Pietro knew what he had to do. He was a member of X-Factor, Wanda an Avenger. They had a duty, and there was no time for hesitation, no room for doubt—not when every second wasted meant another life lost to the onslaught. They couldn't afford to wait, couldn't afford to second-guess themselves when lives hung in the balance.

He steeled himself for the battle ahead, his jaw set with resolve. Time sped up once more, determination etched onto his face. With his hands cradling Wanda’s face, he made her look at him. There were tears in her eyes, and that was not acceptable.

He pressed his forehead to hers, an echo of what their father had done to him less than an hour ago, keeping her steady.

“Save as many people as you can,” he said. His words were barely audible over the chaos, but he knew that Wanda heard him, knew that she understood the gravity of their situation.

A fire seemed to light up in her eyes, and this time it wasn’t from the destruction around them.

“Don’t be stupid,” she choked out, her nails digging into his arms. She murmured some words, and a red pulse of energy lit up his skin—a protection charm. “Stay away from the big one.”

He nodded his agreement, knowing deep down he was lying. They weren’t like most of the mutants on Genosha, as they were trained for fighting. Maybe not against monstrosities like this , but they had experience most didn’t. He had to make it count.

He shrugged off his blasted jacket, throwing it to the ground, torn up and forgotten. His ears—he touched them, feeling something sticky. Blood? His earrings were lost the moment he picked Wanda up. The chain his father had gifted him was still around his wrist though—that went into his pocket.

Then, he was gone. This—it wasn’t a fight he and Wanda could fight together. They were liabilities to each other. It had been the reason they split up and joined different teams. If he saw her in danger, he would condemn all of Genosha to save her. They both understood it, accepted it, and forced themselves to work around it.

High on adrenaline, Pietro raced with blinding speed, his movements a blur of motion as he navigated the chaos that engulfed the city. He propelled himself up the wall of a still-intact building with a burst of energy, his feet skidding on the rooftop as he came to a sudden stop. He stepped onto the edge, getting the lay of the land.

The three-headed Sentinel was spitting out smaller, more familiar ones all over the city. Every corner, every street, every road was a battleground. Everywhere he turned—mutants, once hopeful for a brighter future, were now being crushed, thrown, and vaporised before his very eyes.

He readied himself for the daunting task ahead, formulating a mental map of the city sprawled out below him. Movement in the corner of his eye made him turn; on a rooftop down the street, a distinctive purple puff of smoke billowed into the air.

Nightcrawler?

He saw Nightcrawler fall, Rogue and Magneto appearing from the smoke. They made it. With a sigh of relief, Pietro felt the claw around his heart loosen, and it was suddenly easier to focus on the task at hand, knowing they were safe for now. He turned back to the street below, watching in slow motion. Each second stretched out before him as he meticulously planned his next move and mapped out the best path to take down as many Sentinels as possible.

Pietro ran — his feet boomed against the concrete as he propelled himself down the side of the building with a burst of speed. Every stride carried him further and faster, the wind whipping past him as he pushed his limits to their extreme to gain as much momentum as possible. Turning sharply, he executed a series of precise manoeuvres, weaving through the maze of streets with expert agility as he sought to maximise his speed. Wanda’s hex held strong, protecting his eyes and skin from the intense heat generated around him. He surged down the street like a force of nature unleashed, his every step sending shockwaves reverberating through the pavement beneath him. The threat of the Sentinels only grew with each second he wasted.

He refused to yield to his fear…!

Drawing upon the momentum of his furious charge, he launched himself into the fray with unparalleled ferocity. He brought his knee crashing up into the jaw of the first Sentinel with a swift and calculated manoeuvre, the force of the impact obliterating the machine in a shower of sparks and shrapnel. He didn’t slow down—the Sentinel right behind that one; he flipped over the broken head, spinning around as fast as he could to make a small whirlwind. He delivered a powerful blow to the shoulder of the second machine, drilling down through it to its pelvis. The sheer force of his strike tore through the machine's torso like paper, shattering it completely and sending its limbs scattering in all directions.

Pietro's speed had always been a formidable asset, one that the Sentinels' scanners struggled to keep pace with. He recalled the training sessions with Forge, where X-Factor had used an outdated model of the Sentinel as a mock opponent. It had been a laughable display, the outdated technology proving no match for their combined skills, although Rahne had found the experience unsettling.

Though now, as he faced the real deal on the streets of Genosha, Pietro couldn't help but wonder if Forge's training exercise had been a deliberate ploy to lull them into a false sense of security. It was a sobering realisation, the fact that X-Factor’s benefactors had always intended for them to be wiped out by murder robots after using them for their own needs.

Pietro's resolve hardened, Magneto's old mantra of hom*o superior echoing in the recesses of his mind.

He continued to battle against the relentless tide of Sentinels, staying vigilant, staying fast. If the Sentinels—if the humans —thought they could outsmart mutants like himself and his team, they were sorely mistaken. If Wanda or Madrox or Guido or Rahne were harmed there would be hell to pay. It was almost a relief that Lorna and Havok weren't here.

His lightning-fast movements dispatched the ‘smaller’ Sentinels with ease, clearing the street of the immediate threat. Even as he fought, a nagging sense of unease gnawed at the edges of his consciousness, the presence of the colossal Sentinel looming ominously in the periphery of his vision. He knew the small ones were just a distraction, but his mission was to save the people—

His focus wavered for just a second, his attention momentarily drawn to a figure in the distance— the beast was aiming at—!

Pietro tripped, again.

A sudden jolt of panic seized him as he stumbled over an unseen obstacle. With a sharp cry of surprise, he was sent sprawling, tumbling uncontrollably until he collided with a lamppost with bone-jarring force, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs and leaving him temporarily stunned.

He struggled to shake off the disorienting effects of his fall, his eyes struggling to focus. In a haze of confusion, he watched as Erik smashed into the statue of Professor Xavier, the force of the crash sending the monument plummeting to the ground on its side and —oh god.

The screams.

His head throbbed relentlessly. He tried to focus, to send his mind into superspeed, but he couldn’t hold it. The screams phased in and out as he tried to get up. Pietro's heart clenched with a sickening sense of dread, his mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. Despair took over, every instinct pushing him to act, to do something, anything, but he found himself paralysed—why couldn’t he—all he could do was bear witness—

There was an eerie stillness that followed the monument's collapse. Misery swamped the air, the disconcerting silence broken only by a solitary shout. Pietro's gaze snapped upward, drawn instinctively to the source of the commotion, and what he saw filled him with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

In the distance, with its form towering against the backdrop of the crumbling cityscape, the colossal Sentinel gazed down upon its prey. But before it could unleash another devastating assault, a sudden blur of white—a train was hurtling through the air with impossible speed, on a collision course with the towering behemoth.

The collision unleashed a cataclysmic explosion, a blinding burst of flames and billowing smoke that engulfed the surrounding area in a searing inferno. Pietro instinctively shielded his eyes from the intense glare, jaw clenching as he braced himself against the shockwave that rippled through the air. Around him, civilians who had gathered to witness the unfolding chaos recoiled in terror, their cries of alarm drowned out by the roar of the flames.

With a menacing clang, the Sentinel began to charge up another devastating attack, its glowing eyes fixed on its intended target. But before it could unleash its fury upon the makeshift weapon, the train coiled back like a whip, its metal frame contorting and flexing with unnatural agility as it lashed out at the towering behemoth with astonishing force again and again. Each strike sent more and more shockwaves across the landscape as the beast staggered under the assault.

Magneto was certainly a sight to behold. He stood resolute, his presence on the battlefield was nothing short of awe-inspiring. He defended his country with unwavering resolve, a force of nature in his own right. A surge of pride swelled within Pietro as he witnessed Erik’s raw display of power, eclipsing any doubts or reservations he had harboured about their relationship in the past. At this very moment, he had never been more proud to be his son.

Pietro grinned as he surveyed the scene unfolding around him, a newfound sense of hope coursing through his veins like a surge of electricity. Spotting Madrox and Rahne in the distance, he wasted no time in rushing to their aid. He raced across the battlefield, the thunderous impact of Magneto's attacks echoing in the distance like a symphony of defiance.

With a quick glance, he took in the scene before him—a sinkhole, a collapsed building, civilians trapped within. And looming ominously above them, a normal-sized Sentinel descended from the sky with deadly intent. His teammates were working tirelessly to guide civilians to safety, unaware of the threat.

Pietro's mind raced as he improvised a plan to divert the Sentinel's attention away from his vulnerable teammates. With swift agility, he sprinted in a tight circle, kicking up a cloud of dust in his wake, hoping to draw the Sentinel’s gaze towards him. He had to be careful here—a single blast from the thing could jeopardise his friends and the civilians.

As the Sentinel's attention shifted towards him, Pietro couldn't help but smirk, a flicker of mischief dancing in his eyes as he exchanged a playful wink with Rahne. He swiped a rock from the ground and darted up the nearest wall, his movements fluid and graceful. With a deft flick of his wrist, he hurled the rock at the Sentinel's head, aiming to keep its focus squarely on him and away from his team. The impact elicited a metallic clang as it struck its target.

The Sentinel turned its attention skyward, and Pietro was about to lead it away from the area when a sudden rush of air signalled the arrival of Archangel.

With a powerful sweep of his metallic wings, Archangel soared past, his razor-sharp appendages slicing through the air with lethal precision. In one swift motion, he cleaved the Sentinel's head clean off its mechanical shoulders, sending it crashing to the ground in a clamour of twisted metal and sparks. Archangel spun gracefully, sneering at the Sentinel for a moment. He shot Pietro a solemn nod, before soaring off into the sky.

He didn’t even get a chance to say thank you; he was grateful nonetheless. Descending from his perch on the wall with fluid grace, he quickly made his way towards Madrox.

"Hey, you good?" Pietro inquired, his voice laced with concern as he took in the strain etched upon Madrox's features. It was clear that his friend had been pushed to his limits during the evacuation.

“Yeah,” he muttered, pulling a civilian up from the rubble. “Got copies out around the streets.”

That would explain it. “I think the majority of the Sentinels are heading towards the bay,” Pietro said, speeding a woman with a broken leg up the ledge. “The gardens are safe, for now.”

“I'll spread the word.” Madrox took the woman gently, securing her in his arms, a grim determination set in his jaw. “Where’d Rahne go?”

They both looked around. She was nowhere to be seen.

“I just saw her…” Pietro murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. He swallowed hard, suppressing the rising tide of apprehension. “I’ll find her, you get going.”

The ground trembled beneath Pietro's feet as Magneto delivered another powerful blow to the colossal beast in the distance.

“Kick ass,” Madrox said with a grin, before swiftly darting down the street, his focus shifting to ensuring the safety of those in his charge.

Pietro's gaze lingered on Madrox's retreating form for a moment, a flicker of concern appearing in his eyes before he turned his attention to the rubble-strewn expanse before him. The remains of the structure were on the brink of collapse. It would be too risky for him to rely on his superspeed on such unstable terrain, but his instincts urged him to find Rahne, to ensure her safety. She was resourceful and driven by an unwavering commitment to saving lives. Perhaps she had caught wind of someone's faint cry for help or detected the subtle scent of fear lingering in the air.

Another tremor jolted the ground beneath him, sending a shower of debris cascading down around the unstable building. It was seconds away from collapsing entirely, and if Rahne was indeed inside... the thought alone was enough to propel Pietro into action.

He leapt into the gaping maw of the sinkhole, the chaos around him fading into a surreal slow-motion as he once again manipulated time to his advantage. With each calculated step, Pietro navigated the treacherous terrain underground, his senses attuned to every subtle shift and creaking of the earth. His keen eyes darted across the shadowed labyrinth of debris, searching desperately for any sign of his wayward friend.

There—a flicker of yellow caught his eye.

Rahne in her half-wolf form, stood tall and steadfast, was cradling a child protectively against her chest. Relief flooded Pietro's heart at the sight of her, but it was short-lived as the earth shook once more. Without hesitation, he sprang into action, his reflexes honed to perfection as he deftly moved to shield Rahne and the child from harm. In one swift motion, he scooped them into his arms, their weight barely registering as he propelled them out of the perilous depths effortlessly.

Behind them, the remnants of the crumbling building gave one final shudder before collapsing into itself in a thunderous crash. Pietro's heart hammered as he watched the destruction unfold—if he had been a second later…

The little girl Rahne had rescued was squirming, crying softly in her rescuer’s arms. Tenderly, he took the child from her hold, whispering soft reassurances in a bid to calm her.

Rahne slumped to the ground, her breaths ragged and laboured, a hand pressed against her stomach as a grimace of pain contorted her features. Despite her own distress, she managed a weak smile of gratitude through her pants.

“Thanks, Quicky.” Rahne gasped between coughs, her voice strained with exhaustion.

"Just get to the gardens," Pietro said softly, his tone gentle yet firm as he carefully returned the child to Rahne's arms.

He hesitated for a moment, a sense of unease settling over him like a dark cloud. Something felt off—too quiet, too still. The relentless quakes that had rocked the island had now ceased, leaving an eerie calm in their wake.

Rahne's expression shifted to one of concern, her gaze searching his face for answers. "Where’re you going?" she inquired, her voice tinged with apprehension.

He gave Rahne a pained look, the words caught in his throat. How could he possibly explain the sheer panic that had overcome him in this instance? His gaze flickered between her and the direction of the bay, where the battle raged on—where his father had been fighting for them, and losing.

Rahne's eyes widened in realisation as she pieced together his intentions. "Pietro—" she began, her voice tinged with urgency, but he was already gone.

The train, once a weapon wielded by Magneto, had spiralled out of control, careening towards its own destruction in a blossoming explosion of pink-hued energy.

The world around him blurred into a dizzying kaleidoscope of colours as he raced through the chaos. His legs carried him closer to the eye of the storm, to the epicentre of the conflict that the humans had thrust upon them. He was nearly at his limit, every fibre of his being screaming in protest, but he pressed on anyway.

Ahead, the towering form of the three-headed Sentinel loomed like a harbinger of doom, ready to pass judgment on mutant kind.

“OMEGA-LEVEL THREAT DETECTED.”

The creature’s mechanical voice boomed through the air. Its eyes flickered from red to green as it charged another devastating attack, body crackling with energy as it gathered power.

Pietro raced towards the rooftop where the survivors had gathered to tend to their wounded, their faces drawn with fear and uncertainty. Wanda was already there, her mere presence increasing the probability of the people's survival. Ignoring the clamour of voices around him, Pietro pushed past Wanda and hurried to the edge, his gaze locking onto the scene below where Rogue and Gambit and the Morlocks and Erik—

He was sure everyone was watching in slow motion now, as the creature sent a horrifying continuous beam where his father was, shaking the earth with its intensity and sending metal and debris flying all over. Wanda's sharp intake of breath echoed his own sense of anguish, and together, they watched in stunned silence as Magneto and the Morlocks vanished beneath the barrage of energy, swallowed by the blinding light that consumed everything in its path.

“Mein Gott…” Nightcrawler breathed out, holding onto Wanda to stay upright, his strength wavering.

Wanda’s hand suddenly gripped Pietro's arm, as if she knew he was about to take off, to try and save Erik. He shook her off, clutching the parapet hard enough for the brink to crumble under his fingers.

Despair latched onto him as Rogue struggled valiantly to reach Erik, her efforts thwarted by the intervention of Gambit. Both were unexpectedly pinned to a nearby pole when some of the metal wreckage warped around them, binding them in a cruel embrace to keep them away from the blast.

Pietro's brow furrowed as he felt a strange pulsating sensation coming from his pocket. He pulled out the—chain? The metal writhed and squirmed in his palm, liquefying around his fingers.

“Is that…?” Wanda's voice trailed off into a whisper, her gaze darting between the bracelet in his hand and the scene unfolding before them, to where Magneto was shielding the Morlocks from harm.

A lump formed in Pietro's throat as he realised Erik was saying goodbye. “...I think so," he muttered. His hand trembled slightly as he shook his head in denial, closing his fist around the gift his father had given him.

“No…” She said, voice quivering. “Kurt, can’t you…?”

“I’m so sorry,” the teleporter rasped, despair in his glowing eyes. “I... I have to be able to see where I’m going.”

“Wanda.” Pietro ignored the chorus of the cries around him, the piercing sound of the death ray. “Your hex—could it withstand—”

Wanda was already shaking her head, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I—I'm not sure—that amount of power—it'd shatter in a second!" Her words were tinged with fear, pleading.

"One second is all I need," he declared, his voice firm with determination as he pushed aside his doubts. His heart was beating out of his chest.

Nightcrawler's look of shock and Rogue's shouts from below faded into the background as Wanda stared at him, wasting time. He knew the risks, the odds stacked against him, but he had to try. This was their father.

He reached for her hand, placing it over his heart. “Please,” he begged. “I trust you.”

Wanda's gaze bore into his own, her expression inscrutable—like she was trying to read his mind. And then, with a solemn nod, she murmured words of a promise of protection as a crimson circle materialised on Pietro's chest, pulsating with an otherworldly energy that seemed to lock onto his very soul.

Tears shimmered in Wanda's eyes, her resolve faltering for just a moment. Pietro offered her an encouraging smile, his heart heavy with the knowledge that this could very well be their final exchange. They both knew it, and she was letting him go anyway.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice choking with emotion. He took off before he could see her response.

The green death ray grew closer and closer by the nanosecond. He glanced to where metal was now covering Rogue and Gambit, protecting them from annihilation. He fought to maintain his footing, his steps faltering slightly as he approached the point where the beam hit Erik’s shield.

Green and blue reflected in his eyes, the heat and brightness imploring him to look away.

He didn’t.

Cracks began to spiderweb across the surface of Erik's shield, nearing its breaking point. Magneto’s powers were failing, the dome of magnetic energy fading even as it crackled with raw power—still trying so hard to protect those under his care.

Wanda’s hex pulsed under his skin, cocooning him, red mixing with the green and blue in his eyes. In that moment of stillness, time stretched impossibly thin, each passing second an eternity unto itself. Pietro knew that the timing had to be perfect—that the second the shield broke would be his only chance. Too soon or too late would kill him. Every muscle in his body coiled with anticipation, ready to unleash the full force of his speed at a moment's notice.

He took a deep breath, his focus steady as he knelt on the ground, his fingertips grazing the burned earth. He had already broken his personal records multiple times today—what was one more?

As the cracks in Erik's shield multiplied, beads of sweat trickled down his temple.

Erik’s eyes found his, widening.

The shield shattered, splintering into a thousand fragments that scattered like shards of glass upon the wind.

Pietro pushed his powers to their absolute limit, the world around him slowing to a near standstill as he entered a realm where time itself seemed to bend to his will. In that infinitesimal fraction of a second, the deadly beam hung suspended in the air above his father.

He ran.

He ran.

The heat of the laser was already grazing Erik and the Morlocks and—

He couldn’t save the Morlocks. Not even the poor boy clinging to—

There was no time. He sprinted past, his arms circling Erik’s middle from behind. The beam was touching them, the Morlocks already vaporised—

Wanda’s hex trembled, strengthening at the area where the beam was burning him—

Cradling his father’s damaged body, he tried to shield him, already failing. He kept running — never faltering, never doubting, never stopping.

Then—

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