A City Betwixt

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Maximilian continued to check the gear he had on him. A long bladed combat knife in a quick deploy holster on his chest was drawn and sliced against a piece of fabric. The fabric was split in two like nothing had touched it. He smirked at the knife cutting through the fabric easily and replaced the blade back into its holster. He then took out his pistol and checks the magazine capacity. "Capabilities... I am trained... since I was a boy for once purpose. I know how to kill at range... I know how to kill even better when they try to close the distance. I purposely close the distance if my first shots do not land their target... I am a Commando..." He said before going dead silent once more. During the entire small conversation his eyes never left his equipment check.
 
Daine mulls over all that had been said as she steps through the gate following after the strange man with all manners of weaponry, or at least that's what she assumed it was. She absently wonders in the back of her mind what type of magic this Gate of Argyle was formed from and how many magicians it took to sustain it. Focusing back on the task at hand she wonders over what type of demon this woman is with the power over glass. Glass was a precious commodity and the power to work it must be highly valued so why was she here, what happened to make her turn into such a foul, maybe foul isn't quite the right word, Daine hadn't even met the woman yet. She searches her mind for a moment before coming up with corrupt, such a corrupt woman. Well, I suppose I'll find out soon enough. Moving silently Daine falls behind Elias and curiously watches over his shoulder as the strange man takes out a knife and cuts a piece of fabric. What in the name of the gods is he doing that for, purposely tearing fabric like that. She shakes her head in a silent rebuttal but watches intently as he unslings his metal contraption and listens to a series of clicks. Then he speaks for the second time and she cocks her head at the strange word.

"Commando?" She tests the foreign word on her tongue before turning towards the stranger, "What is a Commando? Is it like a captain of the guard? A knight?"
 
The shriek was much closer to Alana's ears this time. Her eardrums shook so hard they felt like they were going to snap under the pressure. Her body tightened up once again, her muscles no longer willing to obey her commands, and even after she expected the feeling to fade, it kept on lingering. Cold invisible fingers gripped her muscles, squeezing them to the bone. Her eyes were fixed on Mavo as he ran a stake through Sam's stomach. She wanted to cry out, to shout at him to get out of the way, but she couldn't move. Only Sam's touch on the demon's hand broke the spell, and all at once Alana was able to move. Sam was beyond help; she needed to finish off the demon.

Battle instincts taking over, Alana rushed towards Mavo, swiftly spinning out of the way of another swing of a stake, and used the momentum to swing a fierce right hook towards the demon's face. She aimed high, keeping away from his inhuman jaws.
 
Another cry from the demon, and unmistakably, Vivian's body ceased to operate. It had been clear enough before but the source of the bouts of paralysis was apparent again. She wanted to turn her head and check up on the fight, but was unable to. The silence and stillness, sitting there pressing the scarf into Domino's wound, dragged on and on in her terror. As suddenly as it had come, it left, and she could go back to shaking. Any attention she might have directed to the ensuing battle was stolen away when Domino tried to force himself up. "No, you must stay still," she said quickly. He could still speak, and there was a fight left in him yet. That was good, at least, she told herself it was. All Sam and Alana had to do was destroy Mavo and they could all walk away from this, they just needed to get Stross to some real help. Vivian forced herself to smile, but her face felt frozen even long after Mavo's shriek had worn away. Any expression she wore already looked strained. "There are many scarfs in the world," she said, continuing to press with the ruined garment. Whatever she might have been accomplishing wasn't apparent, all there was was keeping the wounded man hanging on. "I can find another. People are different."

A strange sound from the clearing issued, and Vivian turned her head to look. Sam was on his knees, and immediately she assumed the worst. A second, identical or worse wound, when the original was still far beyond their capacity to mend. Surely, the old hand had some kind of trick in store. That would have been convenient, but she knew that the truth was not likely so much in their favor. Whatever the case, the two fighters seemed to have the demon contained with their dual effort. There was only so much she could do, rushing over in the middle of the fight would do more harm than anything else. Her smile gradually fading against her will, she turned back to her patient. "All you need do is hold on, now. Dying is not so easy, no? Just keep talking to me, and we will have you help before you realize." The man was pale enough to already be dead, but death hadn't stopped anyone in this group before. Perhaps more than Domino, they all needed to hold on. As it seemed to always be the case, Vivian remembered the doctrine, and the feelings of hopelessness that went with tending the gravely wounded.
 
Elias drew a pistol, a sleek, jet-black .40 Beretta, 6 otherworldly bullets in its chamber. He could relate to the other gunman on the squad, the Nazi soldier, in a way that he couldn't with the rest, and with a trained eye he understood exactly what the Nazi was doing with his weapons. Probably the most equipped and combat-ready member of the crew was that war veteran. Graeff started the trek to the cathedral with the group in tow and established himself its leader of sorts, perhaps the ideal person for the job despite his shortcomings. The cobblestone clacked under his shoes as he went, and it reminded Elias of the sounds that the floors of the hallowed church which he attended in his life made. That detail stuck out in his mind.

Remembering his companions, the boy turned to Annabel and replied, "Uh, I'm not the sharpest shooter." He cocked the gun and aimed it at the clear ground before him. "But I'll try."
 
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Blood leaked out of the wound Ebayan clutched in one gore-stained hand. He leaned down briefly to pick up his fallen blade, groaning as his vision swam and grew muddled. Blood loss was making him lightheaded. Mavo squirmed on the grass, gasping around the blade buried in his chest.

Need to make this quick, the old man thought. Won't last much longer. Memory had returned to him, nearly fully at this point. Battle had given him a rush of recollections, as did using his power several times during this fight. The Empiric Field of Reality, that was what his antimagic nature was called while he lived. It temporarily erased the connections that made magic possible. No spell, no power in the universe could harm him. Conversely, no sorcery would ever benefit him.

Lord knows how many times in my career I could've used a healing spell. Today was just another one of those times.

The Empiric Field made him immune to magic and it shut magic down around anything he came into contact with, albeit temporarily.

Temporarily being the operative word.

The Gate must be functional by now, he reasoned. Even if I die, I'll just regenerate. But we need to learn what we can from Mavo before that happens.

He knelt by Mavo's body and angled the sword against his throat. "Start talking, demon, and I will make this quick. What did you mean, by what it all meant?"
 
Sam's blade pierced the demon's gut, finding it's way through one of the open wounds from which the stakes had been removed. The injury itself did damage, but such things could be mended, what was more worrisome was the man's touch. Again, the demon felt a strange sensation, something akin to a rush of static electricity, surge through his whole body. The muscles in his throat constricted, barring another scream from occurring. His attack had struck true on the old warrior, but he hadn't taken the old man out of the fight in time. Just as his opponent fell, Alana sprang into the fight, being rescued from her paralysis by Sam's field. The woman's bladed fist slammed into his right eye socket, destroying the eye and taking a sizable portion of the side of the demon's face with it. Mavo dropped to his knees, blood pouring from the massive head wound. As he fell, the injured man across from him put a blade to his throat. He reached for another stake, but it seemed his supply had run out. He bowed his head, his one functional eye raising toward Sam. As the old man's antimagic lifted, he felt his throat release. He could scream again, but at this point it would do him no good. He was beaten.


The black aura around Mavo seemed to subside, and his wounds began to bleed more profusely than before, as if the demonic magic that had been sustaining him had run out. A voice, weaker and marginally more human than before, crept out of his scarred lips. "This is our fate. This is the result of striving towards an unattainable goal. One day you will all be just like me, and they'll send another group of hopeful newcomers out to slaughter you." The demon seemed to laugh, but there was a deep sadness apparent in his voice. "They say life is suffering." He shook his head. "Death is worse." The demon leaned forward, pushing his throat against the edge of Ebayan's blade. For a moment, he locked eyes with the old man, before leaning forward and sliding his throat along the blade. Blood dripped out onto the steel as Mavo slumped to the ground. An ethereal aura seemed to form around the corpse, and in moments the body itself seemed to disintegrate into ash, leaving behind a floating orb of black light. Though it seemed to barely hold a form, it was obviously quite solid.




Domino chuckled at Vivian's comment. "I guess... you're right... Another scarf shouldn't be too hard to come by." For a moment, the young assassin mulled over the difference his savior spoke of. It was something he hadn't felt in life. In his time, people had been just as disposable as clothing. Once you were no longer of use, you were traded in for something more effective. That was why he'd tried so hard to be the best at what he'd done. Even so, he'd been tossed away. For a moment, the crimson streaks in his aura grew wider. He shook his head. No, dammit, he was not going to be overcome so easily. The aura around him seemed to fade away, at least for the moment. He watched as Alana and Sam's combined efforts brought the demon down. Sam, however, seemed to have sustained a wound just as bad, if not worse, than his own. Disregarding Vivian's advice, he forced himself into a sitting position, a mouthful of blood spewing onto his lap as a result. He began to spew off some haughty remark, but found himself choking and gasping for breath simultaneously. He was quite clearly on the verge of death, but in this world, that didn't seem to be much of a concern. If they could make it back... Surely they could fix their injuries.






Annabel looked quizzically at the Nazi as he described himself. She gave a nod of agreement to Daine, as 'Commando' was a new word to her as well. Whatever it meant, it was clear from the way the man talked that he had some experience with combat. Apparently his weapon was capable of ranged warfare, though he was clearly armed to the teeth for any engagement. Elias, too, seemed to have a ranged weapon. She followed the young man towards the cathedral, one hand finding it's way to the strap attached to her sheath. "What about you Daine?" She wondered what the woman could do, but was also desperate to postpone talking about her own field of expertise for as long as was possible. She glanced over her shoulder at the crimson hilt behind her. Soon she'd have to wield it, which meant she'd have to listen to it, as well.



The front gate of the cathedral was wide and made of a solid chunk of a wood resembling mahogany. It seemed a very detailed sculpture had once been carved into the surface, but it had clearly been worn down over the years. The building it self was constructed of aged stone, and bore a number of decorations, most of which were in obvious disrepair. A pair of gargoyles, one of which was missing it's head, stood on either side of the gate. The architect likely had placed them there as 'guardians' of this once holy place. Through the gate, the faint sound of singing could be heard. Though the sound was weak, the song had a melancholy air about it.
 
"Get stuffed!" That was Alana's only reply to the fading demon. Mavo couldn't die fast enough. This was supposed to be purgatory? It felt like hell. Though the tears had stopped falling, she felt so incredibly alone. Her comrades were dying around her, but she didn't care. She had beaten Mavo, and that was enough. Time to go back. She grabbed the demon's remaining essence and walked over to Vivian, a purple glow surrounding her body with only tiny flecks of red swimming about inside. "Can we drag them back?" she huffed. They needed to get back to the Chief so everyone's wounds could be treated and they could move on to their next mission.
 
Max tilted his head at the building ahead of him. He looked to those moving together into the building then he looked up at the other entrances available to him. He didn't move with the group but slung his rifle and drew his blade and he slowly began to climb the sides of the Cathedral. He began to remember the days before his death and he smirked. He didn't speak and his breathing was quiet. He knew how to sneak around. He was trained to do as such behind enemy lines. He was in his element and he was in love. He reached and entrance to the cathedral above and slowly lifted it to keep it from making a noise. He peered into the dark and waited several seconds for his eyes to begin to adjust to the darkness. Max began to rummage around in his pockets and removed a odd looking IR scope. He raised it to his eye and began to peer around the inside of the building.
 
Ebayan dragged himself over to Alana, Vivian, and the wounded Stross on shaky legs. He set a bloodied hand on Alana's shoulder to support himself. "The Gate should be working again. My powers don't last for more than a few seconds. Whatever disruption my presence did to Gate, reversed long ago."

He pointed to some long tree branches and their cloaks. "Make some gurneys. We'll drag Stross back to the Gate. Probably will need one for me, too."
 
Vivian watched the crimson lights dance in the air, wondering at what exactly the aura around Domino signified. He hadn't mentioned it with his powers before, but maybe it was related. Or, it was the beginnings of death in this world. She was relieved to see it fade away, and leave with Domino still breathing. They were not in the clear, Sam also needed medical aid now, and what's worse was that she did not have a second scarf to make dysfunctional wrapping out of. She heard the battle concluding behind them, Sam was talking again and the demon had gone silent. It meant only one thing, and she refused to take her eyes off of Domino for fear that his condition would deteriorate while her back was turned. Worse still was the knowledge that if he died in front of her she wouldn't be able to do anything about it anyway. Vivian shuddered, a fearful coldness had settled in. The last of her nerves frayed when Domino forced himself up, sputtering blood onto himself. Flinching into motion she leaned forward, seizing the injured man by his shoulders. Logic returned a beat before she tried to push him back to the ground, and Domino had stopped moving. Slowly, she released him and sat back. "Stay still please," she said, hanging her head. He would have to be moved anyway, more than anything she simply needed to remain calm. It was fast becoming impossible, she felt so heavy.

The fight had definitely concluded, she heard Alana's final taunt from behind and then the woman approached her and Domino. Vivian turned her head to acknowledge the question and was astounded to see a similarly, but differently colored aura around Alana. It had to have be of the same nature as Domino's, and briefly she worried if she had one too. Focus. "The best option would be to, eh, carry them," she said, looking at Domino's wound and then over to where she expected to see Ebayan laying. Instead, he was walking towards them and giving orders. Nothing could change that, it seemed, and it was even a little reassuring. She stood up, casting an occasional look down to Domino to make sure the assassin didn't try to join the trio on their feet. She didn't recognize the word, but understood the idea of a canvas stretcher. To clear the wounded. The cleric was limited to her possession of a dress and a shirt, Alana had... less. Vivian frowned as she assessed their constructive capabilities. It was fortunate work, it put her mind back to the fight, let her focus on something tangible. A backpack of utilities would have been far more useful than an axe, and even then, her axe was laying somewhere she'd never find the way back to in a pool of blood. Rather than stand idle, even if she felt it a vain effort, Vivian jogged to the indicated fallen branches. There weren't many fallen, sturdy branches, but she rushed to carry the few she could lift back to the group. Given a second chance to look at their supplies, she laid the branches out on the ground, working out a rough frame with a few spanning branches as if they'd hold a body in place of a tarp. "We need cordage to fasten this. We may need to carry you two..." She trailed off, saddening. Even someone like Domino, she doubted she could lift. Even with a shoulder to lean on, walking out with a stake in oneself was, perhaps, too much of an ordeal.
 
Domino grimaced as Vivian grabbed his shoulders, telling him to stay put. He couldn't help but feel like a child, sitting here unable to do anything while those around him were quickly figuring out a pan. Sam, despite his similar injury, seemed to be walking, for the moment, though his suggestion of fashioning stretchers seemed to indicate he wouldn't be in that condition for long. The assassin placed his hat back on his head. For a moment he considered trying to stand, but the sharp pain of the stake lodged in his abdomen reminded him such a thing was probably a bad idea. The assassin watched Alana closely for a moment. The aura surrounding her was quite dark. At first he chalked it up to some of her dark magic, but he was reminded of the Captain's words regarding Spirit Clarity. The dark violet aura wasn't much brighter than Mavo's had been.



As the able members of the party set to work on making stretchers, Domino bowed his head. He had failed again, and was only making it out of this place thanks to the actions of strangers. He cursed under his breath, the wound to his pride evidently as severe as the one to his chest. After a moment, he began to realize something. If both he and Sam were going to require stretchers, someone would have to carry them. While he imagined Alana could probably at least manage his weight without problem, he doubted Vivian were capable of heavy lifting. Regardless, the movement of a stretcher typically required two people. After a few moments, he began concocting an idea. In short, shaky breaths, he began to speak. "There's no way you can carry both of us." He coughed a bit. "You two carry the old-timer, I can make it back." He pulled his hand from his chest and smirked. "Smoke doesn't bleed." In truth, he had no idea what using his ability in such poor condition would do to him, or if he could even sustain it for the entire trip back, but it seemed worth a shot, and it avoided him having to be carried, too. He frowned for a moment before adding in one last comment. "If you need something to tie it together... I guess you can use a piece of my coat." He produced a knife from his pocket, cutting a few long strands of cloth from the sleeve of his trenchcoat. He didn't like the idea of mutilating his clothing, but his vest and shirt were already soaked in blood. He reminded himself of Vivian's words. Clothing is replaceable. He could get a new coat... as long as they didn't touch his hat.
 
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The group began the painful journey back. When they arrived at the Gate, they found it humming with life. Ebayan's initial estimation had been correct; his effect on the portal was only temporary.

"Home sweet home, is that it?" the old man murmured dryly. He shuffled off the gurney, leaning on his sword as if it were a cane. "We saw what happened the last time I stepped through. You kids go on ahead. I will come in last. That way, the Gate won't collapse until we're all through safely."
 
Alana looked down at Sam's hand resting on her shoulder, getting even more blood on her skin. Not like she needed any more to wash off later. "Good," she said after a moment's hesitation, regarding the probable state of the Gate. At least that meant she wouldn't lose her teammates.

She helped Vivian put together the makeshift transportation for Sam and Domino in silence. She needed to get out of here, get back to the world of the living somehow. Whether that was killing demons or other ghosts like herself, she almost didn't care. The others seemed to handle the grief they must've been feeling with near-inhuman skill, at least compared to how Alana was dealing. It just wasn't fair. This wasn't how she was supposed to die. It had to be either old age, or down in a blaze of glory, not stranded by whatever gods sat at the head of this whole affair. Her feet dragged on the ground as she followed the group to the Gate.

"Yeah, yeah..." Alana grumbled. "Let's get you guys fixed up." With that she walked through the portal.
 
Vivian followed along, doing what she needed to get through. The forest felt empty without the threatening aura of Mavo lurking about. Its silence had once been menacing and oppressive, but now it was just lonely and tragic. Of course, their objective had been the demon's destruction. Remorse wasn't the word, the thing they'd killed had done harm to her comrades. It still did not sit quite properly with her, that their justice was only leaving the familiar silence of desolation wherever they went. It was good, she supposed, that things had stabilized to the point that she had time to start thinking again. Or it was merely a way of distracting herself. Either way, they were upon the portal and in safe hands before she had a chance to deteriorate again. It was unfortunate that her scarf had been lost, she had no way of concealing the wounds on her neck. Whatever medical aid Lambrecht offered belonged solely to the legitimately wounded, and she doubted there would be much coming round for them when their provisions setting out had been so limited. After all, death was mostly trivial in this world. Wordlessly, the cleric held her place towards the back of the group as they made their way to and through the portal. She was eager to be wherever in Lambrecht it would spit them out, and to see Domino and Sam receiving proper help.
 
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Domino took a deep breath as his body, along with the stake lodged firmly in his abdomen, dematerialized into a cloud of smoke. Unsurprisingly, he still felt the pain in this state, but at least movement became possible. He floated along with the party back to the Gate. He returned to a solid form, rematerializing on his feet. He immediately realized his folly, clutching his wound and coughing profusely. Despite the excruciating pain, he managed to maintain a standing position. He looked toward Sam as he commanded them to go through first. He was right, his ability damaging the Gate again would be problematic if they didn't get through first. Still, he felt being called a kid was a bit condescending. "Whatever you say, old-timer." He stumbled forward through the gateway, and immediately felt his surroundings change. There he was again, in the room they'd left from. The light from the Gate shown brilliantly against the black marble floor. As his eyes adjusted to the new room, he noted a group of figures in front of him. The Captain, flanked by two tall men in golden armor, stood across the room. In front of the trio, and between them and the returning party, stood a haggard looking man with dark brown hair. Arthur.



Arthur stood, shaking, before the Captain. Though it had been hard to see at first, it was now clear that a dark violet aura surrounded him, with steadily growing flecks of black throughout. The man seemed to be babbling incoherently as he dropped to his knees. In an instant the aura began lashing about violently, and all traces of violet were consumed by the blackness. Arthur's voice began to twist into a sort of primal growl as he rose to his feet. As his transformation into a demon finished, the Captain stepped forward, speaking as her hand went to the saber at her hip. "My lord, grant my blade the spark of the heavens, so that I may purge all those who would threaten your light." As she spoke, she drew her weapon. The sword sparked vibrantly, as if the Captain were wielding a lightning bolt. In a single slash, she cleaved Arthur in half. The man dropped to the ground without a sound, his body disintegrating in a fashion similar to Mavo's, leaving behind a small orb of black. Miranda sighed, sheathing her weapon. Her eyes turned towards the returning party. "Welcome back, you did well." She noted Domino's wounds immediately. "The healers will mend your wounds, please, hold on for just a moment." She motioned to the two men behind her. One grabbed the orb from the ground, and the other set off at a quick pace, evidently going to find a healer. Domino stared in disbelief at the spectacle before him. What the hell had he just seen? He looked back to his comrades, curious as to their reaction.
 
Daine's mouth pulls up into a small smile and she unhooks a bag from around her shoulders. Dropping into a crouch she pulls out an unstrung bow and a quiver full of arrows. "I figured it would be best if I walked around with it covered while in town." She works quietly to string the bow and tests the weight even though she knows it's perfectly fitted for her. Plucking at the string she nods her own approval and stands once more, "I'm s pretty good archer if I say so myself. I've only really used it for hunting though." Pulling the quiver off the ground with one hand she deftly slings it back around her shoulder and lets it settle into place. Her stormy eyes are drawn towards Max as he begins his climb and she feels a little panic begin to rise in the back of her throat.

"What is he doing!?" She asks in a forced whisper as her eyes continue to follow his climbing form.
 
Ebayan watched as Armis slew Arthur with a single strike, thinking back to Mavo's dark words. There was more going on here in Lambrecht than they had been told. He kept his expression neutral and his thoughts to himself. At this point, he simply did not know enough of the inner workings of the Grey Plains, the afterlife, or Lambrecht to make any conclusions. Time, investigation, and good old fashioned footwork would unearth the truth eventually. For now, he had to focus on recovery.

Seeing Domino's look of disbelief at what just happened, Ebayan hobbled over to his companion and murmured softly, "We'll discuss this later. Don't jump to any conclusions. We don't know everything about this place, yet. Focus on getting well, then we'll talk. All of us."
 
Somehow, the portal room felt bright against her eyes, and it took Vivian a moment to recognize the new man in the room as Arthur. It was cold and alien to look upon the reincarnated man, although she had expected it to be a joyful sight. His blood still stained the front of her dress, his death at the hands of Mavo still played in her mind. She felt that it was perhaps only temporary morbidity speaking, but being able to return seemed less like a victory over death and more like a final statement that their deaths had never really meant anything. Another something that she didn't want to name told her that of course they hadn't mattered, that was how things were. Almost as if to back the voice in her head, Arthur began to turn. She knew what it was at a glance, and it explained what the auras around the others had been. Theirs had been nothing like Arthur's, save the streaks of violet coursing along its surface. That was all gone in short order. She had never seen Mavo's aura, but under his own new one, Arthur held a malicious presence quite the same. She felt distressed and saddened to know that even their help had left him doomed. It was her nature to assist, and, forgetting herself and the group entirely, she dearly wanted to reach out and offer help to the man. That was impossible, however, and the only thing she understood with certainty about the situation was that it was entirely beyond her. There was nothing anyone could do for Arthur at that point, probably. She bowed her head as the man was executed by the captain, looking to the floor with a stiff face. Were they right to kill him? Naturally, the people of Lambrecht were at war with the demons, or so she interpreted their situation. They themselves had done well, apparently, and that was good enough for Vivian if their two wounded comrades could make it out intact. Eventually, she raised her head, noting Ebayan speaking to Stross at the head of the group. It was about what she expected, and what she agreed with. Too much had already happened for them to do more than whisper about what they had just seen. There would be time to discuss it later, and she knew that it was a discussion she needed.
 
The sight of Arthur, now seemingly alive and well, only reinforced Alana's quickly diminishing sense of caring. He'd been nailed to a tree for God knows how long, and here he was standing right in front of them, right as rain. Or at least, so it seemed. The violet aura became apparent the longer Alana stared. She was reminded of the crash course in Soul Clarity that one of the angels had given her when she first arrived; the blackness filling Arthur's aura was hardly a good sign. He transformed into a demon before her very eyes, the energy around him no different from Mavo's. And before Alana could even get a good look at him, Armis felled him, her sword slicing him cleanly in half and causing him to disintegrate as Mavo had.

Alana was stunned. Killing Mavo because she was told to was easy. Watching another man, one she had just spoken to not long ago, succumb to corruption and be killed as a result was another thing entirely. It had been so easy to distance herself from it all. She heard Sam whispering to the others, catching enough to discern his intentions, and decided it was probably for the best to keep quiet. Her instability was becoming disturbingly apparent to her.
 
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