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[P] Run
Topic Started: Sat Oct 14, 2017 3:59 pm (629 Views)
Tinker
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"Probably not a good idea." He turned and swept his legs over the railing, returning to solid footing in the clock tower's interior. "That's a good way to never hear again." He waited for her to emerge from under the bell.

Waving her down the stairwell, he began the climb down to the street level. They weee a fair way up, one of the highest points in the entire city of Balefire. He admired the cogs and wheels of the structure's workings one last time, fixing the sight in his mind. Something to hold onto until the next time he could visit.

"You had a diamond necklace, didn't you?" He asked after deliberating on her question. "You might be able to fence the others off out of the city. But if you don't want to wait so long, I could give you a fair price on the diamond necklace. If it's a good size I can use it in some of my work."

Tilting his head side to side, he added "Ruby too, actually. Might have to wait until we get back to the shop. My coin is hidden away and I have to prepare a little before tomorrow."

Picking up the case holding his accelerator and quiver of rods, he slung the too-light package onto his shoulder. Securing the straps, he waited for her before opening the back service entrance to the tower and slipping into the eternal night.
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Marion
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Hoisting up the sack of golem parts, Marion followed Tinker out of the clocktower and back onto Balefire's streets. With the jewels hidden inside her coat pockets, no one would suspect her of carrying purloined heirlooms. The chains and crystals had next to no bulk; they didn't press outward in awkward shapes. The bag of golem parts lacked this virtue. The accelerator did, too. Anyone could spot them and wonder—or even worse, ask—what two teenagers were doing with such supplies.

The trick, Marion had learned, was to act like she had every right in the world to do whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. For some of the constables in Balefire, looking guilty was as good as a confession. Marion tried to arrange her features into their typical dour expression, but between the alcohol and the hunger she just looked tired and a little bit annoyed. Approaching don't [removed] with me required a level of sobriety she currently lacked.

"What could you use it for?" she asked. "The clock replica thing? Or stuff people actually buy?"

There was some hesitation in her voice. Tinker did well for himself, he'd freely admitted. If he paid her in coin, she might be able to go back to her regular vendor, or she could take a chance and try someone new. But pawning stolen goods off on a—friend?—unsettled her. It would clear her of guilt. She'd even warned him not to trust her.

"Did you know the aristocrat vampires—they just, like—pay people to let them drink their blood. Sometimes they even host parties. And they don't get in trouble, because they're rich, so everyone trusts them. Or if anything goes wrong they have enough money to cover up a death."

With enough coin she might be able to pay someone to let her drink their blood.

But she didn't know if she felt right dragging Tinker into her crimes.

He was already this involved, though—did it matter to get him tangled up in one more escapade?

"I bet some diamond-studded clock would make a bunch of nobles go crazy," she said. There was a note of derision in her voice. "You could make a lot of money on that. Gods, anything that sparkles makes them loose their minds."
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Tinker
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"Nothing to do with a clock." He said, adjusting the strap where it dug into a shoulder. Even enchanted as the pack was, it still had a little heft with the junk in pockets along its bandolier. "I have some side projects that need a couple of good gems."

Her line of thinking with paying someone off to let her drink their blood had him eying her out ofthe corner of his eye. It wasn't even unheard of for people to go looking for a vampire to feed. He'd been in the streets long enough to know there were always people looking for a leg up. Some of those wanted to get in a powerful vampire's good graces, to possibly be turned by them. Give them an edge. But she wasn't powerful. She was a street urchin without coin or title. Nothing to her name but what she carried on her person, and much of that wasn't even in her name.

The thought niggled at his mind that she might bite him.

Frowning, he used a hand to support the pack, using it as an excuse to be near one of the pointed rods he used as ammunition.

"It probably would, but they're good for holding a charge. I've been working on something for myself, but good gems are hard to come across in the grade I need. Anything of good enough quality is usually used as jewelry for some higher-up aristocratic houses or far out of my price range." He didn't want to think about the potential consequences of someone finding out about his hull.

He wasn't licensed to build golems, and the penalties for someone finding out he had made something potentially disastrous would be confiscation at the most generous. He was hoping to make something new. Something that could stand up to the stories of these heroes and greats that earned their stories. The Pariahs were some of the more impressive people he'd heard of, with strange and terrible powers. He didn't have an elemental to power it yet. It would have to be strong, and something tied to him preferably to keep it loyal. With what he was planning to do with it, he didn't want it running loose.

"I wouldn't mind if you feed on willing people. As long as you promise not to bite me." He said quietly, but it made little difference in the quiet streets. Turning at a corner just before a lantern's light crept around a corner far ahead, he mentally rerouted to avoid the patrol.

"You're the first girl who's ever been on top of me. I wouldn't want to spoil that relationship." He looked at her blushing, a small michevious smile betraying the joke.
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Marion
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Hurt flashed across Marion's face as if she'd been slapped. Just like her parents, and the gang of boys she hung around, and every other living creature she knew, he didn't trust her. With good reason, she supposed. Anyone with a beating heart wouldn't trust a hungry vampire. Even Marion didn't trust herself. But she'd thought, maybe, that following him around tonight meant something.

Maybe it didn't.

They weren't friends. They weren't anything but strangers. Knowing about his mother and seeing her cry may have brought them closer, but it didn't change the fact that Marion was a predator and Tinker was her species of choice.

"Maybe I could be the first girl to bite you, too," she said. There was something bitter in her voice. "First girl to give you bite marks and a bruise. You could boast to all your friends it was a hickey." She rolled her eyes.

The golem parts on her shoulder felt heavier, and so did her heart.

"Gods, I've never hurt anyone in my life," she said. "I could have tackled you from behind at any point tonight and ripped into your neck. And I didn't. I'm hungry as hell and I didn't hurt you. And you still need me to promise. Would you even believe me if I promised not to hurt you?"
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Tinker
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Eshan paused in the street.

"Mari?" He said uncertainly, lips pursed. Suddenly feeling very stupid, he couldn't decide what to do with their hands and chose to stuff them in his pockets.

"I haven't had any friends before. I don't understand people or why they do what they do. My father used to get angry because I didn't act how he wanted." He hung his head, hunching in on himself trying to shrink from her tone.

"I'm sorry if I said something stupid. I know you could have hurt me tonight. You don't have to promise anything."

His eyes stung. Touching the pad of his thumb to one, he found it wetted. He hadn't cried since he'd lived with his family, his mother sneaking from their room to check on him and clean his wounds.

Tears didn't fall, but it was a hot pain nonetheless.

"I think you're a good person, Mari. You're rude and you can be kind of scary, but you were nicer to me tonight than anyone's been in a long time and you didn't deserve that. I trust you." He started forward again, walking a little ahead of her.

"Um," He started quietly after a moment "What's a hickey?"
Edited by Tinker, Wed Oct 25, 2017 5:24 am.
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Marion
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"I'm not a good person," she said. "I try. But I don't know if I can be." No one believed that she could be good except herself and, now, maybe, Eshan.

"Don't say you trust me because you feel guilty," she said. She looked down at her boots while she walked after him. She wanted him to trust her because she'd earned it. She thought after resisting the siren song of his pulse all night that she'd earned more than his trust—a gold medal in willpower, perhaps—but it occurred to her that he probably didn't know she could hear it. By his own admission he didn't know how to fathom people. He couldn't talk to them or understand them or predict them.

She thought of herself, as a child, begging her parents to feed her. She didn't know it could kill them. She just knew they were starving her. They'd punished her for not knowing, as if it had been malicious.

Marion didn't want to be like them.

Forgiveness would take a little time, but she could still be nice. She tried to lengthen her strides to catch up and walk beside him, but found that doing so made walking in a straight line and on sure ankles a little more difficult. Settling for walking a few paces behind, Marion sputtered a laugh and stared at the back of his head.

"You're serious?"

She laughed a little harder, but tried to keep it quiet. She didn't want to attract attention. Lowering her voice, she explained: "You know when you kiss someone? Not you personally, since I really doubt you ever have, but like—you know the concept of kissing? A hickey is just when you kiss someone, like, on their skin, not their mouth, and you use your teeth so it bruises. So everyone knows you got kissed. Basically." She shrugged her shoulders. A grin came to her face.

Sometimes Tinker's not-knowing-things was painful.

But sometimes it was very, very funny.
Edited by Marion, Wed Oct 25, 2017 5:40 am.
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Tinker
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"Sure you can. You were nice to me. Usually people treat me like your friends do." He kept his quiet as he walked on, turning at seemingly random streets and alleys. They avoided the brunt of the guard, only seeing a couple as they entered less refined territories.

Hearing her footsteps pick up as she tried to catch up, he slowed his pace to let her walk next to him.

The explanation began a creeping scarlet flush from neck to ears. Opening his mouth to respond, only a small squeak came out and he walked a little faster, taking advantage of her inebriation to keep in front for different reasons this time.

"Why would you want people to know you were kissed?" His voice went up at the end, almost whispering as if it were a dirty word.

The commercial streets made their loads less conspicuous, just another pair of youths hauling goods by hand between working hours. Nearing his shop, he fished a key out of his pocket and opened the shopfront.

Depositing his case by the safe, he quickly opened it, listening to the hitches for the new combination. "How much could you get for them at a fence?" He asked, guessing and dropping twelve gold coins into the empty purse.

"And there's something I want to show you after. Something Nobody's seen yet." He nervously flicked his nail against an intricate copper key, eyes darting around the room.
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Marion
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Marion could smell the blush on him.

"I dunno," she said. "A lot of people take pride in being kissed." She shrugged. Hickeys didn't particularly appeal to her either; those red and purple blooms served as yet another reminder of the blood coursing just beneath the thin shield of a person's skin. With a small smirk growing on her lips, she asked, "Hey Eshan. Did anyone ever give you The Talk?"

She had a feeling the answer was no. Her smirk grew a little wider.

Following him into the shop, Marion set down the bag of golem parts on an empty spot on the counter. Then she reached into her coat and fished out the different necklaces he'd wanted. Diamond, ruby. The clink of coins sobered her up a little bit, made her focus somewhat sharper. Gold coins.

He really did do all right for himself.

"I'd probably get about that much for each," she said. "Twenty-four coins, then." Upon saying it, the price sounded a little steep. Somewhere around twelve was likely correct, maybe no higher than eighteen, but Marion saw gold and figured he did well enough that he could share his wealth.

"Something nobody's seen?" asked. She thought about cracking some joke about his bedroom, then decided to be nice. "Okay. Sure. Show me."
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Tinker
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He didn't question or object to her price, grabbing up another dozen coins and dropping them into a second purse. He'd learned to carry his coin in a few places, with at least a small portion being gold. A healthy mix of coppers, silver, and a gold coin or two usually satisfied any mugger enough not to check for secondary purses.

He set the purses on the counter and closed the safe, turning the bolt. Mechanisms spun as it randomized the combination once more.

"Th--The Talk?" He copied her emphasis, looking mildly distressed. "I lived in a tavern for a little while, so I've heard things, but..." his voice went wispy and high, eventually cracking and going quiet. Clearing his throat, he turned away and waved her on.

"Okay. Bring the necklaces." He motioned her behind the counter, kneeling down. Pulling out a knife, he inserted it into the side of a knot in the planks. With a twist, the knot pulled free cleanly, leaving behind a hole roughly the size of the nail on his pinky finger.

Inserting the key, he found the hidden mechanism and turned. A trapdoor appeared as a square section lowered a fraction.

Pushing on the trapdoor, it swung inward just wide enough to let the skinny youths in. Eshan put his hands on the edge and climbed in first, lowering his foot to the first rung far below.

The tunnel only stretched about as tall as Eshan, coming into a small hallway with a second safe door with three different dials.

It took him a minute to open the vault door, the three combinations having different patterns and randomized numbers. Finally, the last bolt slid free and he opened it into a room the size of a large shed.

A humanoid figure stood with a sheet over it in the center of the workspace, surrounded by tools and golem parts. Pulling the sheet aside, he let it pool on the floor and lit an oil lamp with a striker.

A half-built golem was set on a standing prop, humanoid in shape with long, slender limbs and a sleek torso. The four-eyed head was removed, resting on a bench beside the vault door. It had sections properly done and covered with steel plating, but a great deal of work was still to come.

"It--It's my biggest project. A combat golem to watch the shop and help me out. I'm not technically certified yet, so I have to keep it hidden until I can go through the apprenticeship." He teiddled his thumbs nervously, moving to the head and beginning to remove the plating, moving lenses and rods to show one of the lesser cores usedd to power smaller golems.

"I wanted to build something new. Potent. A companion." He began to flush again, realizing how stupid it sounded to say it out loud. He had to build his friends.
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Marion
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"Whaaaaaaaaaat…" Marion's voice trailed off as the sheet was removed, revealing the humanoid golem. The orange flicker of the flame danced across its hull, causing shadows to move like snakes. Her experience was limited to her encounters with service golems. She had never seen anything like this before. Tall, and broad, with a sleek design that made it a rather handsome piece of machinery.

The head sat on a separate bench from the body. Marion stepped over to it and leaned down, looking into the compartments that doubled as its four eye sockets. She gently touched the steel latticework that comprised the framing of its skull, deeply impressed by the effort in the layering.

"You did this? By yourself?" Marion looked at him over her shoulder. "While you're uncertified?" Awe made her voice breathy.

Going over to the body, she examined its front, then walked around to view it from the back. With her brows raised and eyes wide, it was evident Marion didn't see this venture as pathetic.

Remembering the necklaces, Marion outstretched her arm and dangled them between her fingers. Eshan didn't like touching, so she held them out to him in a way where he wouldn't have to touch her.

"How do the gems figure into it?"
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Tinker
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He was deeply pleased by the interest she seemed to show in his work, tension relaxing some as she moved around it. The chassis of the torso was bared, still working on the design of the front plating as seen in a pile of partially-organized sketches and diagrams.

"I've been looking into common golem designs and all the variations they have. They're usually widely different, but for the most part they care a common hull design." He began pointing out small variations, sections where there had been obvious modifications.

"A lot of the technical work is done, I'm just adjusting the plating and chassis before making a final product. I used a lot of inspiration from the Cascadian Bronzeguard golems, but it's not as broad. I'm looking more at speed and precision. Someday I'll get to Cascadia and work for their engineers." He made a couple of adjustments as he explained, growing animated and meeting her eyes when he looked to check if she was watching.

Eagerly taking the necklaces, he moved them over to one of the benches with a series of grinding discs and magnifying glasses. Plucking up a pair of pliers, he placed the necklaces in a vice and gripped them by the setting, bending the gold until the gems popped free easily. Setting them under the looking glass, he grinned a little wider.

"They'll do perfectly well. I have to recut the stones and set them up to hold a charge so I can use them in one of the utility functions. Been working on making spell matrices, so the unit can just charge a part with mana and activate its effects. Makes for a great deal of utility." He set the stones in a cloth on the bench.

Standing in front of the tall golem hull, he beamed looking over his creation. The same enthusiasm and emotion he showed at being in the clocktower was present here, possibly even more so. This was the thijng he cared about over all things, and even though he wanted to show it off, having someone else standing in this most pricate space was making his brain itch.

"I got to look at the parts I could scavenge from service golems and carry back. Once I paid the guild to get me some time with a decommissioned Riot golem hull. I'm just waiting for the right elemental to come along to power this one. And to get my certification so I can take it out in public."

Using his thumb to brush a bit of oil off a leg that had been opened up for work, he began fidgeting again. "Thank you for coming with me tonight. Can we go back upstairs? I wanted to show you, but nobody ever comes down here but me. This space is..." he rolled a hand while looking for the word, eyes darting from place to place nervously.

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Marion
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Knowing so little about golems and arcanotech, Marion could hardly keep up with his explanations. Even if she didn't understand how gems could hold a mama charge, she did understand his enthusiasm. It permeated the room. A light flicked on inside him when he talked about his project; it was brighter than what Marion had seen in the clocktower.

"The space is yours," she said. "I get it."

But she didn't seem eager to leave. She leaned in close to look through the latticework into the golem's chest. There was something eerie about a humanoid form built from scratch. Marion felt unsettled by its lifelessness. The sense of foreboding made her want to stay longer to investigate every angle of this uncanny machine. She reached out and touched the golem's chassis, letting her fingers sneak around to the inside. One of these days it was going to be covered in plating. When would she have the opportunity again to touch the inside of a golem?

"Okay," she said, "we can go."

Stepping through the door, Marion ducked her head a bit so she could walk comfortably through the tunnel back to the ladder.

"Thanks for showing me," she said. "It was nice of you to let me down here. Your golem is…" Marion struggled to find a word. Incredible, impressive, captivating—all these words applied, but there was a feeling as well. Something visceral she couldn't name.

"I just like it a lot," she said.
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Tinker
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Nodding, he beamed. "Me too. I plan on mixing alchemy and arcanotech someday to improve its function. I'm not much for casting. I can barely light a candle. But I can give items a charge and I understand spellforms. This is the closest I can get to actual magic." He pointed at a patched hole in the brick wall of the tunnel.

"About a year ago I started experimenting with repulsor runes. I could make a bolt slide up a tube pretty quickly, but it would just fall out. Fiddled with angles and then put repulsion runes on the bolt itself in rings." He mimed an object gaining speed exponentially, shooting his hand forward at the patchwork.

"Turns out objects enchanted with force-based magic can be volatile when you shatter the wooden bolt it's held in. Blasted a hole in my wall and let in all sorts of dirt. Riot golems and a couple of sheriffs came through pretty fast, but I'm just a Tinker and there wasn't any visible damage outside."

Climbing the ladder and locking everything behind them, he replaced the knot in the plank and brushed his trousers off.

"I need to get some rest. I'll meet you and the gang at the warehouse, same time as we met tonight. I have a few things to work on and look into before we start. Have to make us a working key to the sewer gate out of those parts." He nodded to the bag of golem parts Mari had been lugging for him.

"Mari, if you ever need anything let me know." He was lookiing down at the purses, rolling one weighty pouch in his hand before pushing them forward. "And I'm sorry for last night."
Edited by Tinker, Wed Oct 25, 2017 5:32 pm.
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Marion
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“Thanks for apologizing, Tink,” said Marion. “You’re probably the first one who ever has.”

Fastening up her coat, she gave him a little wave with her fingers. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Night ’Shan.”

Stepping out through the door, Marion looked both ways and debated which way to go. With gold in her pocket, she could afford to eat. That was one problem solved. But she still wasn’t sure where she could go to sleep. There were shelters throughout Balefire, but she didn’t trust the people gathered there enough to close her eyes for a second. She never slept when she chose the gutter, even if she was fortunate to find a tucked away spot. After tonight’s antics, she felt too nervous to sleep somewhere in the open, lest the constabulary sneak up on her, shake her awake, and ask questions.

Hesitating still in front of the door, Marion considered asking him if she could stay. She didn’t think he would say no. But she knew what it would look like if the two of them arrived at the warehouse together, and she didn’t want to deal with that.

So that left one place to go.

Home.




The next night, Marion showed up to the warehouse with more color in her cheeks than usual. The rusty scent of blood clung to her. Her face looked a little fuller, and each of her gestures seemed stronger, more confident. If not for the angry purple bruise that bloomed on her cheekbone and the hot red splotch on her cheek, she would have almost looked healthy.

“Someone beat you up before you went and killed ‘em, Mary?”

The guys were laughing about it. Typical.

“If I killed them I clearly had the upper hand, didn’t I?” Her voice was hard, unforgiving. It caused a couple of the others to go quiet immediately. She wasn’t in any kind of joking mood.

“Betcha that Tinker kid doesn’t even show up,” said another of the boys. “We’re gonna have to go drag him from his house like last night.”

“He’s not even useful,” said another. “I don’t see why we need him.”

Leave him alone, Marion wanted to say. But she knew what defending him would look like.

“Maybe you should shut up and worry about how useful you are,” she said instead. “Instead of worrying about anyone else.”
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Tinker
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Eshan watched her leave, considering offering her a place to sleep for the night, but even with the words on the tip of his tongue, the thought of inviting her to stay here forced him to choke on his words and remain silent. Climbing the stairs in the back of the shop, he let himself into his room.

It was a small, narrow space clear of fire to cook on or any sort of trinkets or furnishing besides the bed, a screen, and a box of clean clothing. He could afford to pay for food to bring home when he remembered to eat and had his laundry washed by the tavern. he washerwoman had grown fond of him and accepting enough, and he liked the job she did. And she didn't ask questions, be it dirt, oil, or blood on his clothing.

His hands shook as he stepped around the screen, kneeling on the padded floor and facing the corner of the room. Bending forward at the waist, he formed his hands into a triangle flat on the floor, touching his brow to his thumbs. Stripping his shirt off, the oil lamp cast flickering shadows on the traces of scarring smattered across his back from years of lashing, he bent back forward and reached for the leather switch.

Reflecting on the wrongs he'd committed, how he'd made Mari cry, how he'd failed to stand for himself, how he'd hurt her feelings, he followed the habit driven into him by his father's "teaching". He reopened old wounds.




Eshan was a little stiff as he reached the outside of the warehouse, case hanging off his back. He winced as the pack rubbed against barely-healing wounds, but tried not to show it. He hadn't bothered bringing the accelerator, instead opting for the clockwork crossbow he'd kept at hand and oiled the night before. The device that would unlock the sewer entrance to the house's underworks hung from a bag tucked into his belt, humming quietly.

His hands began to shake as he stood stock-still outside the building. Thinking about Mari alone in the building with people that were cruel to her, he shoved one in his pocket and pinned the other between shoulder and strap, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders to walk in.

Entering the building, he nervously approached the group.

"We need to go now. If we hurry we'll make it between shifts and the house should be empty." He spoke without introduction, eyes locked to the floor in front of him.

"Sewers are a few blocks east, we'll have to go quietly so we don't disturb anything inside. We have to make it out that way too, we can't run through the estates with a load of valuables." He rubbed his right forearm. Despite the night's chill, he wasn't wearing a jacket again. His skin had goose-pimpled, but he didn't show any discomfort from the cold breezes.

Turning around, he started away without anything further.
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