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Topic Started: May 29 2013, 01:12 PM (2,533 Views)
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Grabbing the top of the lid-less toilet tank with his left arm, he let his right hand on the ground, acting as support to his body. He felt an odd feeling of his stomach being void and yet full of unpleasant substances. The former high school student left his head hanging over the toilet bowl, one of the few that still had water in this slum, his pupils jittering around. He waited for...whatever it was. This was mostly likely the 6th time he waited over the toilet for something to come out since he woke up, but it never did. He left the stall, and went back to the tattered bed in the wretched house he was in.

((Rutherford "R.J." Roger Jr.:B032 -V5- Start))

He lied down on his side on the bed and curled up. He wrapped both of his arms around his belly, trying to soothe the uneasiness away. He was using his jacket as a blanket, with the room being oddly cold and the heaters most likely broken.

He swallowed, and he let out a grunt of displeasure as he felt the tightness of his very own collar around his neck. Maybe that's why nothing came out. No, he reassured himself, that would be one of those silly reasons his mom would spout after she had heard it at the hair parlor. Of course, he thought hearing anything from her would be good right now.

R.J. went back to his paining stomach, noticeable for it's growls, it not wanting it to be ignored. He thought of something his Dad use to say to him, one particular time he fell off his bike and skidded his hands over the rough Texas gravel.

"Why don't I kick you in the knee, and make your hands stop hurting?" the soldier said, with a chuckle. No knee kicking occurred, and the young R.J. went back to his bike soon after washing and one or two bandages on his hands. Maybe his Dad and the rest of the military would come and save them, big old tanker that he was. Kill all the terrorists, go home, and get a good serving of good American apple pie. If they even knew where he was. Someone had to know, noticing the cameras, since there was an audience.

R.J. stood up, deciding that maybe he would try that old trick. Couldn't hurt more then anything else that could happen here. He slammed his head down against the wall nearest to the bathroom, hoping then his stomach would shut it. And for just the splittest second possible, it did. However, the new pain and old queasiness decided it was best to work together.

Leaving his head on the wall, he grimaced, feeling the affects of his dumb idea. Not knowing what else to do, he waited for the feelings of either his head or stomach to pass. Now it angered him, more then being on this island already did. It was probably a combination of the deaths of his teachers, the fumes from the toxic gas, and the foreign altitude that made his stomach upset.

Hating that he didn't know what to do, he wrapped a curl of hair tightly around his right pinky and ring finger, letting his eyes gaze at the beige wall, waiting to blow chunks if needed.
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((Natali Greer continued from Thread Titles Have Never Been My Forte))

Natali wasn't entirely sure where they were now. They'd come upon a road sometime after leaving the beach, and had followed it to... wherever this was. It wasn't the most inviting of places, but there were buildings, hopefully with supplies they could use inside.

She was doubly glad that she had changed into tennis shoes when the broken glass strewn across the ground crunched under her feet; slicing her foot open and probably getting some kind of nasty infection on top of everything else was not something she would appreciate.

Natali paused in front of one of the more intact buildings and fished the map out of her pocket. "Nuclear Living Site, huh?" She muttered, just thinking aloud. "At least, I think that's where they are. This place doesn't look big enough to be the town..."

She turned back to make sure Maynard and Adam were still with her, and to glance around the area. She didn't see anyone, but that didn't mean the place was really deserted. Natali just hoped that anybody they ran into would be friendly, or at least not hostile.

"There could be some useful stuff in here, or at least a place to sit down." She called to the boys. "You guys wanna check it out?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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((Maynard Hurst continued from Thread Titles Have Never Been My Forte))

Maynard wheezed in relief as he and the others arrived at a cluster of buildings. They looked poorly maintained; the concrete streets were peppered with broken street lamps and shards of glass from shattered windows. He looked down as he tentatively crossed through the blanket of debris, being sure to not let anything pierce the delicate wrapping that his boaters provided.

His free hand clutched his stomach; a stitch had been paining him for the last few minutes, and he was very glad of a stop, however temporary it may be. Catching up to Natali, he nodded as she pointed out where they could be and what they could do.

"I...I...yeah, sure. Let's go inside...but...be wary." He said, tightening his grip upon his stomach. "We don't know who or what could be in there."

Maynard swallowed as his stitch began to subside. Whatever happened next, he just hoped that they'd be able to have a rest first. Although, given that they were near a nuclear plant, that mightn't be the best choice. Then again, they were all likely to die anyway, so what did it matter?

No. We'll live. We'll get out of here, somehow. Everything'll be fine.

He knew that if he kept telling himself that, then maybe it might come true.
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((Adam Morgan continued from Thread Titles Have Never Been My Forte))

"I'll take point. Try to stay kind of quiet, and follow me."

Adam had held up pretty well on the walk. It was a bit sunny for his leather jacket, but he wasn't gonna take it off unless the alternative was dripping a trail of sweat everywhere he went. If he left it behind, he'd probably never find it again, and if he was going to carry it, he might as well get the benefits of looking good. It was also tough enough that he thought he could likely get a little protection out of it in a pinch.

He held the sword in both hands, lifted it up alongside his head, kind of like how James Bond held his gun. Natali and Maynard weren't really the right sorts to lead if there was trouble. They didn't seem so tough, and probably didn't know how to take care of themselves in a fight, and that wasn't even touching the fact that Maynard's weapon would be practically unusable in close quarters.

Taking the lead let Adam handle any trouble, and also let him sound the alert if there was trouble too serious to handle. He knew from his paintballing how quickly stuff could go south if a whole team bumbled into an ambush. Here, there would be more than welts to face. A team wipe wasn't something any of them would bounce back from, ever.

He'd sort of given up on not thinking about the situation they were in, and was now trying instead to avoid thinking about the exciting varieties of cancer they were probably all getting from wandering around a place with "nuclear" in its name. Whatever glowing slime might be coursing underneath them wouldn't mess up anyone who didn't make it home anyways, though Adam thought it'd be pretty awful for the survivor to have their hair fall out and kick it from a bunch of tumors clotting up their guts a year later.

Maybe the terrorists had thought of that. Adam had this vague idea, though, that only one of the past winners was even still alive. They'd grabbed the one dude and thrown him onto the island again, and the other had been murdered. What had become of the other two?

He stopped thinking about that. There was work to do. He picked up the pace, jogging towards the nearest building. He stayed light on his feet, loose, like he was getting ready for a fight. Maybe he was getting ready for one and just didn't know it yet, wouldn't realize it until the first blow slammed into his jaw and knocked him on his ass.

Adam stood to the side of the door, the side with the hinges. He wiggled his fingers at Maynard and Natali, a little come-hither gesture, then held up his hand, trying to convey that they should close in but not get too close.

Without waiting to be sure they'd perfectly understood, Adam gave a light knock on the door with his left hand, then quickly returned it to the hilt of his sword. If someone came out and started shooting, he was all ready to do the badass thing and clothesline them with his blade.
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R.J. laid back on his bed, the temporary pain from the head banging now gone, and the unpleasant feeling in his stomach now subsiding.

"Beat still my small intestine."

He eyed the black duffel bag that was rested by the soles of his converse. It was still unopened, R.J. wary of the contents on the inside.

"Maybe some food or medicine..."

Inside: Clothes, Food & Water, First aid kit, and a bunch of other stuff. Bastards took his Nintendo DS and art utensils. And gave him a gun in exchange. Joy.

If he had to guess, it was an old gun, obviously a SMG. It said so right on the piece of paper attached to it. A MAT-49. Ration bar held in mouth like a cigar, R.J. decided to tinker with it a bit, taking the magazine out first.

"Safety first, for once."

There was an actual safety on it, a grip one. That was good, made R.J. relax a bit. It was very old, noticeable by the loud clunking sounds it made when R.J. forced the magazine well to fold. The wire stock was also squeaky when fully extended. It was surprising stable though, not immediately sliding back to place once he pushed it against his shoulder. It was also heavier then he imagined it to be, though not really heavy. Just heavier then expected.

He placed the magazine under the pillow, not wanting to think about using it. He did keep the actual SMG by his side, maybe use it to scare off those who didn't know jack about guns and would try to threaten him.

He heard some broken glass being stepped on outside just a minute ago, but he just hoped it was a cat or someone who was just wandering. He decided to wait and hope it was either or. He figured he should have gone out and checked, but he didn't know who could be out there.

Well, he did know who could and was out there. Girlfriend, friends, classmates. That's who it was, people who cared and were scared. And he decided to just wait in there, a cold room in a slum. R.J. thought about all the people who could be outside.

Veronica, who had a lot of their classmates on her bad side. Kyran, with a hurt arm. Joey, who was slow. More ways then one, if he was being honest about his best friend.

"...I should go, find anybody."

Knock, Knock.

"...Guess they found me first."

He was glad that someone knocked, probably the same person who had stepped on the glass, he thought. He only cracked the door open to see who was outside though, still wary of who could be on the other side. Walking across the hall to the front door, he was not expecting who he would see when he opened the door.

Two people, both with weapons, prepared to hurt someone. R.J. looked at the gigantic spear thingy. Then he looked at the pissed pants bearer of it. He looked at the scared girl beside him, and then the crowbar by her.

"...What?" he said in a hushed tone.

The "What" was half of "the hell?" and half "the hell do you want?".
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Creeping after Adam, Natali was suddenly extremely aware of the noise the beads in her braids made when they knocked against each other as she moved. It wasn't loud, but it certainly seemed so in the oppressively quiet slum.

She was glad Adam had offered to go first, since he seemed to at least have some idea of how to go about things in case they ran into any trouble. What was she even going to do if she was attacked by somebody with a gun, beat them around the head with her crowbar until they politely stopped filling her with bullets? Better to led Adam do what needed to be done, and she could keep hanging back and being the calm one.

Even so, she kept glancing nervously at Maynard as they moved toward the door. She felt like she was a little kid again, sneaking down the hallway to her parents' room after a nightmare and trying to move as quietly as she could so that the monsters wouldn't get her.

Natali stopped when Adam gestured for them to do so and tensed when the door slowly creaked open in response to his knock. When the pale face appeared in the crack of the open door, she had to bite back the instinctive, childish cry of "Ghost!" that rose in her throat. Calm. She was the calm one.

When the person on the other side of the door spoke, Natali let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Not a ghost, just one of her classmates. She couldn't quite put a name to the face or voice and she had no idea to say in response to "What?", but it wasn't a ghost and he hadn't attacked them, so they were probably good.

Probably.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Maynard's eyes met with Natali's as they slowly approached the slum. She seemed just as nervewracked as he did. As to whether that was a good thing...only time would tell. When Adam gestured for the duo to pause Maynard stumbled slightly, his feet and hands clenching as he did so. It wouldn't do to fall face first onto a pile of glass.

When the slum door opened, Maynard took in a sharp breath, and only half-released it when he saw who it was: R.J. Another one of those kids-he-barely-knew-but-knew-that-they-weren't-too-bad. Pretty, small. There were plenty of worse possibilities out there. Although...he couldn't be sure as to whether R.J. had seen them as a threat, their cobbled together group of allies.

Upon R.J's hushed "What?" Maynard paused for a moment. R.J wasn't someone for them to run up to, exclaiming how wonderful it was for them to have found each other, nor did he seem someone to immediately run from. He was...mutual. Not too many feelings either way. So...what could you do, other than simply say-

"Uh...hi?"

Well. There were probably half a million better things that Maynard could've said, but he wasn't in the best mindset to ponder them all and come up with an adequate response.

So..."Uh...hi?" it was.
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Adam was pressed up against the side of the door, sword held two-handed next to his head, pointing at the sky. He was ready to spring into action, to defend the group. Only problem was, he hadn't really taken into account that anyone inside might not step out right away. Now, there was a guy talking out the door to Maynard and Natali, his voice tense and quiet. Adam had no idea who it was. From his position, he couldn't see the guy, and he was pretty sure whoever it was couldn't see him either. He was waiting like Wile E Coyote to pounce on some poor bastard who probably wasn't even a threat.

This was awkward, especially since Adam couldn't exactly move to introduce himself or inject himself into the situation without it looking really bad. Stepping away from the building would reveal that he'd been in ambush position, at the same time putting him right into the line of fire of the guy inside. Even if the dude was totally on the level, it'd just take a little twitchiness for everything to go straight to hell.

In the vernacular, this was referred to as SNAFU.

Adam shot Maynard and Natali a look, slowly moved his right hand to the front of his face, raised a finger to his lips, the universal symbol for "don't say jack shit about this." Best option would be for Adam to, somehow, figure a way to act like he'd just wandered into the situation. Maybe Maynard and Natali would walk inside and Adam could then knock on the door and act like he'd just turned up. Maybe he could edge his way around the building and approach from the other side. It was a pretty big building, though. Sneaking around it would take forever, and they didn't have that kind of time.

Maybe, better still, they could get the guy to come out. Then Adam could just get the drop on him anyways. He wouldn't hurt the dude, just contain him a little so that there wasn't any opportunity for misunderstandings. Then they could all talk and get things sorted. It'd be fine. They'd all make friends.

Yeah, ambush sounded like the best plan here. Adam locked eyes with Natali, because she seemed the more likely to understand attempts at communication, gave her a big toothy grin, and waggled his eyebrows a couple times. He hoped she'd get the message.
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((Slight GM-ing approved beforehand))

Maybe R.J. had come off too inhospitable, with his fearful "What?". After all, these two did have the kindness to knock on the door at least. Not something he thought that would come by much during his time here, kindness.

He opened the door slightly more, so his face could be seen easier. The two, Natasha and Maylerd he believed their names were, were obviously scared and might just be looking for more people. Like sheep.

Maylerd was the one who spoke, with a simple greeting. R.J., feeling like he was the one making the atmosphere tense and unfriendly, placed one of his hands on the outside of the door, moving it forward a little.

"Um...do you want to come in?"

Nearly halfway open, R.J. had gotten his foot snugged into the tarnished carpet, tripping to the porch and slamming the door all the way to the other side.

"Agh! Shit!"

To compliment his shit, there was a fuck.

"Agh, Fuck!"

It was not his fuck. And it was too deep to be Natasha's or Maylerd's. He looked to the door, now fully open with a body behind it. A body which he didn't know was hiding behind the door and was holding a sword.

Now he felt fucked. He should have kept hiding. Sprawling back up, he shut the door as fast as he could and locked it, not even looking back at the other two. If they were sheep, R.J. was grass.

He sprinted back to the master bedroom, locking that as well. He grabbed the MAT-49 and the magazine that was under the pillow. The well still folded, R.J. was struggling to fit the magazine back into it, his hands shaking. He wasn't planning to use it, but he sure as hell felt like he might need to.

"Comeoncomeoncomeon!"
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So far, so good. Whoever it was inside the room didn't seem to have any problem, besides being understandably cautious. Natali allowed herself to relax slightly when Maynard answered the other boy's question and the door started to open. He'd let them in and they could all sit down and rest for awhile.

It wasn't until Adam motioned for them to keep quiet that Natali realized the awkward position he was in; anything Adam did now would look like an attack, and any trust they might build up would go right down the drain.

Natali bit the inside if her cheek anxiously. Maybe if she and Maynard went inside and then Adam waited a few minutes to knock on the door again, they could just explain this...

Adam moved again, grinning at her meaningfully and wiggling his eyebrows. Wait, was he going to-

The boy inside the room stumbled and hit the door, and everything went downhill fast.

There were two shouts, and Adam swore loudly as the door hit him. There was a split second of silence again before the other boy scrambled up and slammed the door again, locking it.

"Adam!" Natali didn't bother to be quiet as she rushed over to him; they'd already blown that. Now she just wanted to make sure Adam hadn't broken anything or impaled himself or any number of other very bad things that could have happened.

"Are you okay?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Maynard let out a yelp as R.J. tripped and swore, wincing as Adam reciprocated the swearing. As R.J. hurriedly retreated back into the safety of the slum, Maynard began to race towards Natali, who had joined the fallen Adam, and was asking if he was okay. He stumbled partway there, scattering powdered glass and street-debris, changing his mind. R.J. looked petrified while stumbling back through the doorway. Maybe he could...somehow change his mind?

No. No he couldn't. Petrified was one interpretation. Ready to pull out a gun and pump them full of bullets was another. He turned on his heel once more, returning to Natali and Adam. Please don't let him be injured... Injuries led to death. The most insignificant scratch could be a death sentence in this game. If he was injured then they'd be screwed. Well, maybe Natali wouldn't be, but he...he didn't stand a chance. Without the others he'd end up as he was on the beach, drenched in his own piss and crying his eyes out.

He couldn't let that happen. He knew he was gonna die, but he wasn't going to let that be his fate. It was going to be quick, and it was going to be worthwhile. He wouldn't be fodder, he wouldn't be useless. He was going to have a purpose in this little group they'd formed.

"Adam...Adam are you alright?" He said, kneeling beside Natali. He'd merely parroted her remark, but parroting was better than spurting out some nonsensical comment.
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((Female Student #32 - Kat Tolstoff - GAME START))

THIS WEAPON WAS ORIGINALLY USED BY VERSION 4 WINNER KIMBERLY NGUYEN
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AISLYN MCCREERY
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Kat read the note for the fifth time in as many minutes. Her knife (a KA-BAR combat knife, according to the other side of the note), had been used by somebody who'd come out of this game alive. That meant something, she guessed. Maybe the weapon wasn't completely useless against a gun-toting maniac, just virtually useless against a gun-toting maniac. Either way, it was one of the few ways to get out of this place, given that she had lost her phone sometime after she'd conked out on the plane. The other two ways were to either pray for the Hail Mary rescue, or turn the knife on herself and end it, the latter of which was not happening anytime soon.

Either way, she wasn't doing any good surviving by just staying here, in this apartment or whatnot. Kat picked up her bags and held the knife that she'd probably never get to use in her hand as she opened the door out.

"Agh! Shit!"

"Agh, fuck!"


And in front of her were three people and an open door, with one big guy on the ground. Already, shit was going down, and no way was she getting involved in it. Not yet, at least. So she did the next best thing, and crouched behind the door she just opened. If the situation diffused without gunshots or whatever, she could come in and join the group. If something went down, well, the door could do some damage against a psycho.
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"I'm fine," Adam said. "Fine."

He rubbed his face with his left hand. He took deep breaths. Adam had never liked taking shots to the head, even minor ones. Bumping his head on things had a way of instantly making him fume. He'd slowly learned to control that during his matches with Paulo and the guys, but the anger was still down there inside him, an instinctual reaction that was telling him to track down the little punk who'd smacked him and make their impromptu Three Stooges routine complete by kicking him in the shin and then smashing a plate across his face while he hopped around.

The door had bounced off Adam completely out of nowhere, provoking a startled cry and sending him toppling to the floor. It'd hurt, not in any serious way, but the shock of it all had also led to Adam crumpling like tissue paper. His body might not have sustained any major damage, but his ego was bleeding. About the only saving grace was that he at least hadn't pissed himself, so Maynard was still lower on the dignity totem pole.

Adam pulled himself back up. He'd swapped his sword to his right hand before rubbing his face, and he held it tightly now. It was only due to the position he'd been holding it in that things hadn't gotten really bad. The thing was pretty sharp, and if it'd been smashed into Adam's face or chest, that would have been, if probably not fatal, at the very least extremely uncomfortable.

He brushed the dust off his pants, rolled his shoulders, took another deep breath.

"I think maybe we should move our trick-or-treating to the next house," he said. "Got some real party poopers living in this one."

The idea of not going in and messing with the guy was really in everyone's best interests. It would mean that there was no more drama, and also that Adam wouldn't have to constantly fight the urge to squeeze whoever it was until he turned blue.
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"comeoncom-"

Aha, the clicking sound was made! The sound of the magazine going into it's well was music. Sweet, sweet music. Now, when those three would come after him, he could scare them off. R.J. still left the safety on though, not wanting any accidents. It did worry him though, that those people were already trying to hurt him. It wasn't even past noon.

He sat at the front of the bad, waiting for them to come. The stock was out as far as it would let itself be, R.J. trying his best to make the tiny gun imitate the feeling of a hunting rifle. It didn't work. This thing was simply just too small to emulate right, not to mention R.J. felt a bit rusty, not having hunted with his dad in a long time.

"Doesn't matter, not using it now."

So he waited, ready to see if his would be assaulter's would try to attack him again. He hoped not. Maybe he just misunderstood...No. There had to be no way. What other reason would there be for the guy with a sword, hiding away? Their intentions just had to be shady, ambush him or whatever. Even R.J. knew that was the only explanation.

"I can't even be safe in this house..."

He still sat on the bed though. There was a window, in the bathroom, where he might be able to get away from. R.J. never knew why there were windows in some bathrooms, but he was happy about it now. But, they might have surrounded the house, preying on him, also waiting. He thought he might just be paranoid, but there was always a chance.

"Three were already outside, there could be more..."

So he waited, disengaging and engaging the safety alternately.
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Natali stood again and took a step back to give Adam some space; it didn't seem like he'd appreciate the offer of a helping hand at the moment.

She nodded at Adam's suggestion. "I'm all for moving somewhere else. If there's anything useful inside here, that guy has probably already picked it up anyway. There's plenty of other buildings around here, or we could keep going down the road, I guess."

She took another look around to make sure they weren't overlooking anything that they could take with them. She couldn't hear anything from inside the room, and that made her nervous. What if there was some hallway or something that boy could use to come around and sneak up on them?

He wouldn't, right? He'd figure out that they weren't attacking, they were just looking for somewhere to stay for a bit and had made a blunder.

Right?

Natali absently brought the crowbar up, holding it over her shoulder like a baseball bat. Besides a place to lay down for a bit, what she was really wishing for was something more that she could use to discourage attackers, or defend herself with if things came to that. Staying calm was good, but a little caution wouldn't hurt. Adam and Maynard had pretty useful weapons, but she wasn't doing anyone any favors if she just hid behind them.

While she waited for the boys to collect themselves and decide what to do, Natali started mentally putting together a to-do list. The other two could be men of action all they wanted, but someone had to plan.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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