“We do not know what our chances of survival are, so we fight as if they were zero. We do not know what we are facing, so we fight as if it was the dark gods themselves.”
Justicar Alaric, Warhammer 40,000: Grey Knights.

Boston, USA. November 1st, 2024.

A figure stood alone in a ruined church, broken arches above her head and holes in the roof, exposing a ragged, cloudy sky. She wore a battered, hooded cloak. She stood almost as still as a statue, staring up at the sky with unblinking eyes. To the casual observer, she might as well have been a statue, but she was not simply unmoving.

She was waiting.

How much of her life had been spent this way? Too much, perhaps? Certainly, the long years of waiting and watching did nothing to prepare her for what had come of her world. Of this world.

Still, she had made the effort: small considerations, moments where she had managed to do something to stymie the plans of this Solar Empire her sister had created, or aided others who could achieve other things.

I wonder how the exiled Professor will react, Galatea thought idly. If this works… will it be a dream come true, or just another thing spurring him down his doomed path?

There was a faint stirring from somewhere: the sound of rubble stirring. Galatea turned her head, and for the briefest of moments saw a unicorn mare wearing a human looking overcoat.

“Oh!” the mare exclaimed, stumbling slightly. She blinked at the sight of Galatea. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…”

She seemed rather apologetic, not just by her words, but by her demeanour as well.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, before dashing behind a pillar.

Galatea frowned, and moved towards the pillar, searching for the mare briefly – but there was no sign of her. No sign even that she had ever been there.

Odd, she thought, feeling a wave of – Deja Vu? Was that the human term? Yet it is not the strangest thing I’ve encountered.

Whether it was an omen, or just another sign of how wrong things had become in the state of these worlds, Galatea did not know and did not care to guess. So much had gone so far beyond expectations or anything she had ever understood, that to try and find truth in it seemed foolhardy.

She moved slowly back to where she had been standing, her mind ablaze with thoughts of everything she had seen.

So many moments, so much history… so much pain. And her role merely to watch.

Mother, she wondered for just a moment. Have I done right? Or is this another mistake in a near-endless run of them? She closed her eyes. You would have done better to make another, better suited to fill this task. Yet it is too late now.

But she made you, and no other, her own mind retorted. And suited or not, you are the one who must take up this mantle.

She was interrupted from her thoughts, however, by the door to the church creaking. It opened with a slow, lumbering groan, and a few dozen bipedal figures entered the building carefully.

Humans, she reminded herself. They are called humans. I should remember that.

It wasn’t as easy as that, of course. She had many more considerations. Too many more.

One of them wore light armour, and he had distinctive blonde hair and a wispy goatee. There were a few other humans in similar gear with him – albeit they were slightly more comprehensively armoured, all but one wearing full-face helmets. They were all armed, a sensible precaution under the circumstances.

Another human, this one in a tattered brown robe, was with them as well. Another of the humans’ ‘mystics’. The Mystic pointed to the mare.

“Excuse me?” the lead human said. “Are you the mare I’m supposed to be meeting?”

“Colonel Alexander Reiner,” she replied, looking at him properly.

With a swift movement, she drew her hood down, revealing her stern face, with lines under her pale eyes and a single thin scar on her cheek. She had never truly thought about the things she had done, the things that she had gone through.

It was, perhaps, a blessing. If she thought too much about it, it would destroy her.

“Finally,” she added, meeting his eyes.

“Sorry I’m late,” the human – Reiner – said, smirking. “We, uh, walked most of the way after the Doc dropped us off in Boston, and this is still a war zone.”

“I am aware of your difficulties,” the mare said. Her tone was cold and clipped and to the point. “Have your men and the Mystic leave.”

The robed human bowed and left at once.

All too eager to please, she thought. They expected her to know all the answers, these humans, when in truth even she had only a few. Too little to show for so many years of work.

Reiner turned to the other humans.

“Casey, wait outside,” he said to one, a red headed male with his helmet clipped to his belt instead of on his head. “Keep an eye out for hostile forces – we’re still not sure just how safe we are in this location.”

“Gotcha, boss,” the other human replied in a strong brogue quite unlike Reiner’s accent. He winked. “We’ll holler at the first sign o’ trouble.”

He walked out of the church, the other humans following, leaving the mare and Reiner alone.

“Alexander Reiner,” the mare said again. “The leader of the PHL, and heir to the work of Lyra Heartstrings.”

Reiner frowned. “You know about Lyra?”

“We spoke, once,” the mare said shortly. “And her work was important. Maybe more so than even I know. But that is not why you are here.”

“Why am I here, then, Ms…?” Reiner asked.

The mare threw off her cloak in a single motion, spreading her wings wide. Reiner stepped back, eyes wide in shock.

“You’re an Alicorn!” he said, hand reaching for the weapon at his side.

On the surface, she didn’t quite understand the reaction. But she supposed it was impossible for him not to be thinking of the only other currently extant Alicorn in the world.

“I am here to help you, human,” the mare said sharply. “Stay your hand!”

Reiner moved his hand from his weapon and seemed to calm a fraction, though he still looked wary.

As well he might, if I were any other pony, she thought.

“We were under the impression that Princess Luna was the only other Alicorn, apart from the Tyrant,” he said quietly. “And that there were no others.”

“And you would have been within your rights to have that impression,” the mare replied simply. That is how it should have been. “Mine work has been to observe the others, not to interact. Mine sisters never knew of me… though I fear mine secrecy is compromised, now.”

“Who are you, then?” Reiner asked.

“Mine name is Galatea,” the mare said, speaking impatiently. “And I have little time, so listen well.” She took an almost imperceptible steadying breath, calming herself. “You do not have the manpower, the expertise or the requisite strength to defeat your enemy.” Before Reiner could object, she held up a hoof. “Do not posture to me, Alexander Reiner. You know as well as I that I have spoken only the truth.”

Reiner sighed, apparently conceding to her assessment.

“Alright,” he said sullenly. “So?”

“So, I have a solution,” Galatea replied. “I have, amongst my many talents, the power – however much a strain it may prove – to connect to other incarnations of myself, alternates and counterparts from what you would term parallel realities.”

Reiner frowned. “From other Solar Empires?”

Galatea snorted. “From Equestrias that never became the abomination calling itself the Solar Empire. Unsullied, free.”

Reiner paused, clearly taken aback by her words. Galatea couldn’t help but be faintly amused by the way he reacted. Even with so many things these humans had considered impossible happening in less than a decade, they still felt surprised by the notion of things beyond their experience. It was charming.

Then Galatea’s face fell, the bleak, nascent amusement throttled in its crib. I shouldn’t judge too harshly, or mock too much. I was just as surprised, just as taken aback, and slower to react than they were. And many have paid the price for that failure.

“That’s…” Reiner finally said, swallowing nervously. “I’d say that’s ridiculous, but – well, we’ve had to redefine what we call ridiculous over the last few years.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Galatea said with a small, mirthless smirk, the corpse of her gallows humour managing a brief death-rattle. “It is with one a counterpart of mine in one of these Unsullied Equestrias that I have communed. She and I, together, have the power to bring you to her world.”

“Where… what?” Reiner asked. “Will she be able to help?”

“Not alone,” Galatea said, “but she will be able to aid you in securing the aid of that world’s diarchs. Celestia of old…” Here, Galatea’s felt a wave of wistful nostalgia for the days of old. “Celestia of old was merciful, kind, just, and strong-willed.” Her expression hardened, and she forced herself to keep her tone free of the revulsion she felt. “Whatever madness has possessed the Celestia who stands at the head of the Solar Empire, her rightful self would oppose it as the perversion of Harmony that it is.”

Reiner scowled. “Trusting Celestia? That’s… gonna be hard to swallow, for anyone. I’d have to run it by command.”

Galatea scowled. “We are short of time, Alexander Reiner. Discussing the correct course in a committee is a luxury you do not have.”

“But it’s how we do things, ma’am,” Reiner retorted. “I might be head of the PHL, but I’m not the unilateral boss of everyone in the damn army. I’ve got to answer to my people, to my superiors, my subordinates…”

Galatea tutted, but then nodded. “Very well, Alexander Reiner, if that is what you must do, then –”

She paused, and then her eyes widened. She could feel it, the edge of her perception ringing like a warning bell.

“… no.”

“What?” Reiner asked, frowning. There was clear concern written on his face.

Before Galatea could answer, Casey, the human from before, ran into the building, panting slightly.

“Colonel!” he yelled, sounding almost panicked. “We have heavy incoming!”

“Shit!” Reiner swore. “How bad?”

“Bad, sir,” Casey replied. “They must have swept right past Checkpoint Zeta.”

Reiner ran a hand through his hair. “Escape routes?”

Casey shook his head. “We’re cut off, sir. Whatever you’re doing with that unicorn from the Mystics, they really want her-”

“It is worse than you realise,” Galatea said hollowly. Casey looked at her, his eyes widening as he took in the fact that he was looking at an Alicorn. “She is coming. She must have sensed that I am here.”

Reiner’s eyes widened in shock.

“The Tyrant,” he whispered, sounding almost afraid. No doubt he was. Galatea felt it, too, the nagging sense pushing at the edge of her reason. She ignored it.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “There is no escape for us here. She will have even blocked teleportation – I am as trapped as you.”

Reiner ran a hand through his hair again, looking desperate for a moment, before letting out a sigh.

“Send me,” he said quietly.

“Pardon?” Galatea asked, frowning.

“Send me to this other Equestria,” Reiner said. “If it’s true, if they can help us, then fine. I’ll go. I’ll take the chance.” He gave a wan smile. “It’s gotta be better than dying here.”

Perhaps there is more courage to this human than I dared hope, Galatea thought, eyes widening. She gave a small smile.

“Indeed… very well, then,” she said. “I will commune with mine other self.” She paused, contemplating the task ahead. “I will need time.”

Casey nodded. “You’ll have that time, ma’am.”

“Casey,” Reiner began, but the other human held up a hand to forestall it.

“If she can get you out of here… shit, boss, I don’t understand any of it, but it sounds better than carking it here,” he said, his tone surprisingly light for a man who no-doubt knew he was going to die. “Squad’ll buy you some time, keep the bastards off your arse, and let the lady do… whatever it is she’s gonna do.”

“Casey,” Reiner said again, almost plaintively.

“Colonel, don’t sweat it,” Casey said. “We’ve got your back. See you on the flip side.”

Without another word, he jogged back out the door, jamming his helmet on as he did so. Reiner sighed, and waited as Galatea’s horn began glowing, and she turned away, concentrating on bridging the gap.

A few moments passed, and the sound of human weapons firing began to come from outside, along with other sounds: the sound of battle being joined. As the portal took shape, the sounds of gunfire got closer. Reiner seemed to tense, and Galatea heard the sound of him drawing his own weapon.

A moment passed, and then suddenly she heard the sound of the structure’s door bursting open. Galatea risked a glance over her shoulder, and saw a group of Unicorn stallions in heavy armour running into the church.

“You must keep them from interfering!” she yelled.

“Gotcha!” Reiner called back.

The sound of human gunfire and spells began echoing in the room. Galatea heard the heavy thump of bodies slamming to the ground, dead, and reassured herself that the human was still fighting.

This is our last hope, she thought grimly.

“Go for the traitor!” one of the Unicorns yelled. Galatea glanced again. But Reiner had already interceded, throwing what looked like a small metal ball at them. With a brief thought, Galatea raised a shield around herself as she worked.

“Grenade!” another of the Unicorns yelled, and then there was a loud explosion, blasting masonry and woodwork apart. Suddenly the room was filled with smoke. Galatea focused, bringing the connection together.

‘I can hear you,’ a voice seemed to say through her mind. ‘We are connected.’

For the last time, perhaps, Galatea thought to her other self, but she felt no reply. She focused now on completing the connection, and she opened her mind, allowing her alter to connect and learn everything she knew. Their connection was tenuous, but Galatea could feel it, and she allowed herself a brief smile. The portal had emerged, glimmering, a blue-white vortex, standing like a vertical puddle of water.

“You!” she heard one of the Unicorns – possibly the last one – yell.

She turned, to see the soldier standing over Reiner. The Unicorn was bleeding from one of his ears, and his eyes were wide and filled with an unnatural rage.

“You’re the leader – the one that gives all the monkeys their false belief!” the Unicorn was saying to Reiner, who seemed wounded. “You’re an idolator! Soon, her majesty will be done with your friends, and then it’s your -”

With a thought, Galatea sent a blast of cold blue magic into the Unicorn, and a moment later his empty armour clattered to the floor, pale blue mist dissipating around it. Reiner looked up, meeting Galatea’s eyes.

“Newfoal,” she said with a grimace. “Disgusting abomination of nature. Another crime, another aberrance. One we must hope we can set right.”

Reiner, wincing with pain from his wounds, stood up, looking at the portal behind her with wide, astonished eyes.

“Is it ready?” he asked quietly.

“It should be,” Galatea replied. “It will take you to a new, Unsullied Equestria, and there – the spirits be willing – you will find help.”

Reiner nodded slowly, and then suddenly he frowned. “But… what about you?”

“What about me?” Galatea asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You said it yourself,” Reiner reminded her. “You can’t escape. If the Tyrant really is here, then like you said, she’ll have blocked any magical way out.” He paused. “Can you… can you beat her? Or get past her?”

“I do not know,” Galatea lied. I know all too well. She gave him a rueful smile, and decided to be honest. “I suspect not. She obliterated the creature Discord, the ancient evil of Kontagion. These things were beyond my strength to accomplish, and yet she did them.”

She took a breath, before nodding, feeling the heady weight of expectation leave her in favour of the lightness of acceptance.

“Yes,” she finished. “I believe this is the moment where I meet my destiny.”

Reiner shook his head. “No, that’s… you can’t die. You can still… I dunno…”

“You proceed from a false assumption, Alexander Reiner,” Galatea said more gently. “I do not fear death. I fear failure. I fear the world that awaits if you fail. That is why I will make sure you do not. This is how I will restore the order I was created to protect.” She paused. “One Galatea… or another.”

She paused, smiling softly. She knew that she was not alone, no matter how isolated she felt.

“Now go,” she said to Reiner, motioning to the portal. “Go now.”

Reiner threw her one last look, and then threw himself into the portal. There was a blinding flash of light, and then the portal became still once more.

Galatea watched the portal for a moment, before turning her attention to the church’s door. The sounds from outside had stopped, and she sighed.

“Do you see me, Galatea?” she asked the air around her. “I do this so that the plan will be returned to its rightful way. Do you understand what you have to do, the part you have to play, now? The sacrifices you must make?”

There was no reply. How could there be? But she knew she had been heard, and in that moment felt content in what was meant to be.

“I meet my fate gladly,” she continued, “knowing you will continue what I have begun.” She smiled beatifically, her wings flaring out and her horn glowing. “Farewell, sister-self.”

The door to the church burst open, and a silhouette of an Alicorn appeared, stepping through the threshold, backed by blinding light. There was a momentary pause as the figure regarded the portal and the figure of Galatea.

“You came here for a prize, Queen Celestia,” Galatea said to the figure with a grin. “I must regretfully inform you that you will not claim it today.”

“We shall see,” Queen Celestia said, her voice echoing and sombre. “Interesting. What are you, exactly?”

“Your enemy, corrupt Queen,” Galatea retorted. “You have already failed.”

“Ah, but failure is one step on the road to greater success,” the corrupted Alicorn retorted with a small smile.

Galatea frowned. She spared a glance to her side. Standing behind a pillar, just about shielded from view by the rubble, was a thin, frigid and suit wearing human-looking figure. He looked uncertain, his expression torn between the desire to hide and the obvious eagerness to step forward and intervene with cane in hand.

Galatea smiled and shook her head almost imperceptibly, before looking back at Celestia.

“If that is so, you must be far on that road, Celestia,” she said. “This world has not fallen yet. Hope remains in Equestria, and on Earth.”

“Hope?” the other Alicorn snorted. “What hope, you small things?” She laughed. “If you mean this ploy, then be assured – I will deal with Alexander Reiner.” Her smile faded. “First, however, I shall deal with you.”

There was a flash of light, and the battle was joined once more. Almost immediately, as she raised her shield to deflect a hail of golden blasts of magic, Galatea realised that she didn’t stand a chance in this sort of direct contest of power. She gave a small smile, and stepped back once, giving ground before the onslaught.

“Is this all you have?!” the corrupted Queen bellowed. “What kind of an Alicorn are you?”

Galatea’s smile became a grin. “A smart one, sister.”

She concentrated, and then suddenly she dodged, magic propelling her faster than even her wings could have, before dashing forward, slamming into the Queen and throwing her into a wall. Before the corrupted Alicorn could react, Galatea threw a blast of energy at her, the powerful magical blast slamming into the Queen and sending a hail of dust into the air. It was, without doubt, a powerful strike.

But not powerful enough, Galatea thought, already knowing the outcome. I have left too little behind in case this plan should fail, and even now that it succeeds, there is so much more they needed to know.

But this was no time for regret. Even as the dust was still settling, a blast of power slammed into Galatea and threw her into a wall.

The battered form of Queen Celestia stepped forward, scowling.

“You’re an irritant, I don’t deny it,” she hissed. Her eyes narrowed. “And you called me ‘sister’... another child of Faust, then.”

“Mine name is Galatea,” Galatea hissed.

“How very pompous and portentous, so like Faust,” Celestia said idly, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “But it’s surprising that you even exist. I thought there were but two of that usurping genetic freak’s children running about. Does that bitch’s brood know no limits?”

Galatea’s eyes widened. The timbre in that voice, the words… they were not Celestia. Galatea knew Celestia well, and this…

…this was wrong.

“Who… no…” She narrowed her eyes at the Queen. “What… what are you?”

The maddened Alicorn laughed. “Oh, I see – you never truly understood what the truth was. I thought that somepony else might have cottoned on for you, but never mind.”

Galatea realised just what that must have meant, and she felt the blood drain from her face in horror. She cursed the irony that it was now far too late for her epiphany to do any good, for her or anybeing else. The connection was broken.

“I had suspected you,” she hissed. “Among others. But when you destroyed Kontagion and Discord, that left so few options… for the thing possessing mine sister. Even then, I didn’t want to believe it…”

‘Galatea!’ a voice howled to her, cold as winter, yet it was kept back. ‘Galatea, please! Let me-’

Queen Celestia only shrugged. “Believe it or not, here I am.” She yawned. “As diverting as this is… Galatea, was it? As diverting as this little reunion is, I have things to do.” She smiled. “Goodbye, Mother dearest’s watchmare.”

‘-open! Open damned mirror! Why won’t you let me – Galatea! Please!’

Galatea took a deep breath. The Queen’s horn flashed with power, and a bolt of magic suddenly raced towards Galatea. She had a moment to close her eyes.

So much history, so much pain. And now it ends. I wish you success, Alexander Reiner. For all our sakes.

And then there was nothing but darkness.

Queen Celestia scowled at the corpse of her new-yet-old sister, a host of feelings twisting through her mind.

A sister, after all these years… how typical. How… unfortunate. What had she been doing? Why had she not been raised among them? What paths had led her here, away from the loving light of their family? What damage had this product of the Fausticorn caused?

Shaking her head, Queen Celestia brought her focus back to the here and now as Guardsponies entered the church.

“Your majesty?” one of the Guardsponies, Redheart, asked.

Redheart was a rather special member of the Guard: a veteran of border disputes in the old days, and later a key officer in the battles of the Sombran and Changeling wars. She had continued to prove her worth in the early battles of this war.

“Did we take any prisoners?” Celestia asked.

“One human,” Redheart said. “We left him be until you could… question him.”

“Bring him here,” Celestia intoned airily. “Let us see what he has to say.”

Redhead nodded, and motioned to one of her colleagues. There was a momentary wait, before two of the armoured soldiers pulled the human through, bound in their magic fields and scowling at all of them. He was one of their males, his gear dirty and charred.

“Well, human,” Celestia said, “shall we start with our pleasantries? I am Queen Celestia of the Solar Empire. And you are?”

“Casey Hannity,” the man replied, spitting on the floor. “I’d tell ya me PHL serial number but fact is I never had a head for ‘em. You’d not give a toss either way.”

“Quite,” the Queen said. She smiled. “You don’t seem afraid.”

“‘Course I am,” the human snorted. “I just figure I’m dead either way.” He chuckled. “Sorry if I don’t bow, yer highness. My family came from the Republic forty years ago: summat about tyrannical royals sticks royally in me craw. Must be in me genes.”

The Queen chuckled warmly. “Well, you have spirit at least. That’s commendable for one faced with… well, I imagine you creatures almost see me as your equivalent to the devil, don’t you?”

“You just complimented me?” the human said, sneering. “Well, now I just feel dirty.”

The insolence was impressive, but it was also aggravating. Celestia felt the urge to snap this speck’s spine like a twig, but she resisted the urge, instead taking a deep breath and steadying herself.

You are a Queen, and a beneficent one at that. Maintain composure.

“Where did this,” she motioned to the deceased Galatea, “send your commanding officer, Alexander Reiner?”

“Feckin’ fairyland to meet the Queen Fairy,” the human replied. He spat on the floor again. “Save yer breath, Tyrant bitch. You’ll get feck all out o’ me.”

“I presumed as much,” Celestia said. She took a breath, calming herself. “And – our potion stocks?”

She addressed this to Redheart, and noted that the human’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly. Ah, now he was afraid.

Good.

“We have enough specialised potion for a handful of humans,” Redheart replied. “But… no standard. My apologies.”

The human laughed. “That’s feckin’ rich.”

Celestia scowled, but quickly regained her composure.

“Very well,” she said. “I’ll ask once more. Where did this send him?”

“The land o’ the feckin’ Care Bears to fetch a rainbow cannon of love an’ cuddles,” the human sneered back at her.

Celestia nodded. “Well, then, I can see we’ll get nowhere with you.” She gave him a sneering smile. “Good night.”

There was a flash of light from her horn and suddenly the human’s head turned a ninety-degree angle with a sick crack.

“A pity we had no standard potion stock,” Celestia said nonchalantly as the body slumped to the floor, “but somehow I suspect the human would prefer it this way.”

“As you say, your highness,” Redheart said quietly. “What now?”

Celestia smiled warmly at her.

“Redheart,” she said quietly. She motioned to the portal. “Since our enemy has fled the field, you need to follow him.”

“Me, your highness?” Redheart asked, frowning. “All respect, and I am honoured by your trust in me, but surely one such as the Angel -”

“The Angel is not here, you are,” Celestia cut her off. “I trust you, my little pony. I know that you will not fail me.”

Redheart frowned at the portal. “Where do you believe it leads, your majesty?”

Celestia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Stupid questions. Stupid underlings. Always asking when they should be obeying.

“It leads somewhere that is not here, Redheart,” she said after a moment. “There is no way of knowing for certain, and this human,” she motioned to the fresh corpse, “did not provide us with any answers, unfortunately. What we do know is that this thing,” and she spared a glance for the dead Alicorn, “sent Alexander Reiner through it. Therefore, wherever it leads, you must follow, and finish what we began here today. And you must hurry,” she added, frowning, “for it will not last for long.”

Sure enough, even as she spoke, the portal flickered, like a candle guttering in the wind.

Redheart saluted. “At your command, your majesty.”

With a deep breath, she strode towards the portal, before throwing herself into it in a flash of light. There was a momentary silence, and then the portal dissipated.

Celestia let out a sigh of relief, before looking back at the corpse.

“Alright,” she said, motioning to it. “Guardsponies, remand this… this… to the custody of the Royal Engineers.” She smiled, a cold, cruel thing. “I’m sure Chief Engineer Fire will be… appreciative.”

As the Guardsponies moved to gather up the late Galatea, Celestia allowed herself a small, mirthless chuckle.

Well, she thought, we shall see if the Fausticorn’s watchmare has at least set in motion something… entertaining.

Fluffy: Hey, it’s Fluffy! I… didn’t do much.

(~ he underestimates his awesomeness - Jed)

But I’m glad this scene is here. I never truly understood its removal - including Casey gives Reiner a sense of versimilitude and weight. This is, ideally, meant to make Reiner feel more like a real person.

And Casey will appear at some point in Light. SOON™

Jed: This scene from another perspective. And a little more illumination of TCB Galatea. It won’t be the last time.

So a couple of things to note. Firstly, my thanks to TheIdiot for helping write in some extra intrigue into this interlude. All I can say about them is, “keep your eyes peeled”.

Next: take note of poor old Casey. You will, as Fluffy said, see him again, back in the past of Light Despondent. Me and Fluffy agree: having guys like Casey floating about brings a layer of depth to the world-building: those talks of ours inspired, in part, me giving Casey a definitive “last moment”. Because off-screen deaths aren’t as cool as proverbially spitting in Celly’s face before you go.