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Revealed By What We Want To Seem To Be; (PM to join)
Topic Started: May 26 2012, 03:47 AM (617 Views)
Artie
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Holographic Projection
May 6th
Day



In the darkness of the child-spawn schools, where the young were brought after birth and were trained by the nurse-soldiers, the Skrull Neonate that was branded with the name Nat'ren was selected by the Queen herself, not her drones, not her attendants, but by the Queen who ruled them all, and he was proud of the honor, as much as a Skrull had the capacity to feel pride. It was hard to be one of the drones, to be just another identical face, known only by the subtle variations of markings. It was better, of course, than being one of the Damaged though. Any neonate who was not perfect was repurposed (I.E. thrown to the Cleansers so that their genetic anomaly would not contaminate the already fragile balance of Skrull perfection) and so Nat'ren had been honored by his Queen's selection, especially considering his age.

He, though to be truthful he and she were abstracts to the Skrull, had stood on the ceremonial platform, and he had accepted the gift of genetics from the captured child who had been turned over to them by it's guardian, who had been replaced already. The child had been frightened but he had not shown it, which was why Nat'ren had been chosen to emulate him. Nat'ren too was bold.

As he emerged from the pod, in the new form that was his, he opened his mouth to speak and the words did not come out. The boy was a mute and so for the duration so would he be. But he said the words as best he could, the images appearing over his head.



[align=center]"Posted Image"
I am human. [/align]

[align=center]"Posted Image"
I am Male. [/align]

[align=center]"Posted Image"
I am Artie Maddicks. [/align]

Awakening in the room he had been placed in, Nat'ren sat up, realizing that he had failed his Queen. He had been found out and had not killed those who he intended on killing. "I'm in a lot of trouble," he whispered to himself, slightly astonished by the sound of his own voice. He had not heard it much since he had been selected. The neonate sat up, feeling like one big bruise. Skrulls healed much faster than humans or mutants with healing factors, so he had survived Grendel's attack with only a bit of battering, but that didn't make it hurt any less. He winced as he looked around and realized he was in the medical labs in Utopia, but sealed away by a clear plastic barrier. Isolation. They thought he was sick? Maybe they didn't know he wasn't Artie?

"Maybe I'm not in as much trouble as I thought," the little child warrior said, and he went to the barrier, his fingertips becoming long and pointed. He could rip free and disappear, he could escape back to his people... Only what would that do? He'd failed.

Failures were killed.

His fingertips smoothed back to normal and only his small green hand rested against the plastic. His forehead fell against the barrier and Skrulls never cried... but Nat'ren had been a little mutant boy long enough to have forgotten that.
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Wolfsbane
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Wolf Form
Rahne couldn't help but wonder if the horrors of late were the result of the universe paying her back for daring to have a moment of pure happiness. For daring to feel positive about life despite their captivity in these Savage Lands, despite the fear and concern and borderline paranoia felt around the complex ever since the Savage Land closed in on them. She had become happy, because her long-time love finally proposed to her, finally gave her a token of lifelong affection and commitment - gave her two.

Of course, that was silly. That was selfish. The universe had no such designs on her. Her friend Sarah Rushman was not struck down with a mysterious, horrific illness that Rahne could do nothing to cure but pray for her friend's survival in order to make Rahne miserable.

But this... this struck close to home. Though she never outright said as much, Artie Maddicks was a boy she loved as if he were her own flesh and blood. His accomplishments were a source of pride for her. His development over the years she had taught him made her happy for him. She knew that even though he would graduate from her class soon, he would never leave her behind, because that wasn't who he was. He was as sweet and kind and thoughtful a child as ever she'd known.

And that was why she stormed into the room he was contained within with unmasked fury in her eyes. She had disbelieved it when she heard. Artie had gone evil, some said. Artie turned into a monster, said others. Artie tried to kill some of his classmates. The truth was... all of it, and none of it... it was confusing.

She stopped as she entered the room, watching as he stood pitifully against the clear walls that held him in containment, and still, could not feel empathy for him. She would not.

"How long?" she asked, her voice at that quiet tone that was indicative of her working hard not to yell. "How long have ye been lyin' to me... how long have ye been playin' me f'r a fool... an' what have ye done with Arthur Maddicks?"

Her fingers tensed, curled in slightly, her lips pulled back to bare her fangs, the wolf inside her just barely beginning to show itself. She was angry, to say the least. But she was also ashamed of herself. She had failed. Failed to protect him, failed to keep him safe, and now he might be dead somewhere, dumped in a ditch, buried in a shallow, unmarked grave, and it was all her fault. She had let him be taken away, let him be replaced, and she was none the wiser. She should have been. She should have noticed. She should have seen it.

"Tell me everything, or I swear to all I hold holy, I will tear yuir fucking heart out and devour it right in front of ye," her voice raised, becoming hoarse and cracked as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.
Posted Image

[size0]Say the dog and butterfly,
in the air they like to fly.
Dog and butterfly.
She knew she had to try,
and she float back down to the warm soft ground,
laughing - she don't know why,
but she had to try, she had to try.
Dog and Buttefly.


Avatar by Natalie, signature by Olga. My graphics set is complete again! Thank you so much!
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Artie
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Holographic Projection
The sudden harsh tone startled Nat'ren. He looked up and took a startled step back at the sight of Miss Rahne questioning him in a voice that he had never heard from her before. He wiped at his yellow eyes and remembered that he was a skrull. He wasn't supposed to be afraid of these doomed people, but as her words got harder and darker, her voice raising into a growling yell. Nat'ren lifted his chin and his skrullish inclinations were to taunt her, to declare her obsolescence and doomed nature, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a gasping stammer. "St-stay away from me."

He bit his lip and struggled to control himself, "You kill me, you will never see your little freak boy again," he said, terming his words harsher than he really felt, "You are going to die anyhow, so I don't know why you even care what happened to him. You should be happy that he's with us. He's safe from everything that you are about to suffer." He forced a sinister smile on his face, "And you are about to suffer."

The smile faltered though, did not meet the glow of his yellow eyes, did not sit comfortably on his greet skinned face. Looking down at his feet, still encased in Artie's tennis shoes, Nat'ren said, "You couldn't rip my heart out. If you did, Artie would die. It's what happens when we're bonded to an identity." This was, of course, a lie, but Nat'ren was banking on Miss Rahne not knowing that. "I've been Artie for over a year now," he admitted, looking up without lifting his head, "I was the Artie who was at the school when it blew up. I was the Artie who helped the others out of the classroom, who saw the Purifiers, who saved the roses. I was the Artie you taught for all this time, and you don't understand how much of a torture this has been for me. I 'm a member of an advanced species, a race of warriors. To be this soft and moronically cheerful child is... shameful."
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Jean
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Telepathy, Telekinesis
Artie... gone... What...

The thought hit Jean like a kick to the chest. No, not Artie, she cried in the privacy of her own thoughts. Not him. She loved all the kids but some did strike more of a chord with their cheerfulness and friendly disposition, and Artie was just that kind of kid.


She'd barely crossed the threshold of where they were keeping the impostor when she heard the harsh snarl of Rahne's threat and stopped dead, listening to the imposter's reply. Over a year... The realization that Artie had been gone so long chilled her heart butt at least there was a glimmer of hope, the impostor seemed to think that Artie was still alive. It was a slim hope but better than nothing.

"Rahne Sinclair," Jean snapped as she approached, her face set in a thunderous scowl, "beating up the helpless and powerless in backrooms, that's what the Brotherhood does," she reminded the wolfen woman who seemed to be a hair's breadth from losing her grip on her feral side. "I know you're hurt and scared half to death for Artie," Jean put herself between Rahne and the green-skinned impostor, forcing the woman to look at her instead of the parody of the boy they loved, "but bullying and terror isn't the way we do things, you know that. Artie is proud of the X-Men, he wants to be an X-Man one day," she reminded her. "That means doing things the right way even when you're scared and half-sick with worry. Sometimes the high-ground is a real bitch but that's what makes us X-Men. We do the right thing, even when it's so very tempting to do the wrong thing."

She broke eye contact with Rahne for the first time and looked toward the door. "I want you to leave now, join Scott in going through Artie... his... things. Follow his scent trail, if there aren't any clues to help us in his locker or under his bed, then maybe they're hidden in a secluded area inside the temple or wilderness. Ask the roses, they might've seen him."

Silently she added, :: If he wasn't here by himself, then his accomplishes may be nervous and looking to flee before we can find them. Go do a head count. Smell around for anyone overly nervous. ::

Once Rahne departed, Jean turned and looked at the small, green-skinned impostor. "What's your name," she asked.
[align=center]Posted Image [/align]
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Wolfsbane
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The wolf in Rahne reveled at the imposter's fear. It was almost palpable, a thick, aromatic presence that signified weakness, defeat, readiness to be prey.

His answer, though, did nothing to abate her anger. Over a year. Over a year of this... fake, this cruel and sadistic deceiver who'd played with the hearts of so many for so long... she thought of poor sick Sarah, who considered Artie a brother, and may now die never knowing that for a year and change the boy she loved had been replaced by a near-flawless imitator.

And it all just made her angrier.
"Ye're soundin' awfully confident for a prisoner. Ye think... ye think ye can just toy with us, play yuir devilish little games an' nae pay for it? Ye know full well I'm nae the vengeful sort, but with you, I'll make an excep-"

She was so focused, so distracted in her anger and hurt and fear that she hadn't noticed Jean's entry. Hadn't noticed until her name was called out, and Jean had moved to put herself between Rahne and the boy's cell.

Rahne knew she should have felt ashamed, should have felt guilt over her reaction, but she didn't. She couldn't. She felt like she'd been stabbed in the heart, felt like that knife was twisting around in her chest, scraping up her innards. There was no room for guilt. The tears that stained her cheeks were just as much born of anger and horror and worry as they were of sorrow.

"He's the one what knows, Jean! The answers are right there an' by God, if I have to hurt him to get him to..."

Her breath hissed out from the spaces between her teeth, which were on the verge of the shift themselves - sharper, more angular than standard human teeth.

"Fine," she snarled, eyes narrowed. She wasn't happy about this, wasn't happy about being kicked out as it were, but... well, she wasn't going to be happy either way. Not under these circumstances.

She turned sharply, visibly holding back her transformation, with small signs of it burgeoning on the surface. Fine, reddish hairs dusted her arms, her fingernails were thick and sharp, the barest nub of a growing tail visible at her backside. She made no effort to disguise the myriad of feelings at war in her mind. Made no effort to hide her pain, her anger, her feelings of culpability.

She was angry at the imposter, yes, but she was angry at herself as well. This... imitator, this advanced warrior whatever... he was naught but a sign of her own failure. If she had protected Artie as she should have, if she'd done her job right, he'd have never made his way inside. He'd have never weaseled his way in amongst them.

This was her failure, she knew it. This was her fault. There was no denying that.

If the doors weren't automatic, she would have slammed it behind her as she headed out, if only to vent some of her feelings onto something that couldn't be hurt, couldn't be wounded, at least not by her.

She threw her back against the hallway wall outside of the detention room, and slid down it to a seated position, clutching at the back of her head, grabbing the hair in a tight, painful grip as she let the tears flow. She would go, she would do as Jean requested of her, but not now, not in this condition. As of right now, she was too compromised by her emotions.
Posted Image

[size0]Say the dog and butterfly,
in the air they like to fly.
Dog and butterfly.
She knew she had to try,
and she float back down to the warm soft ground,
laughing - she don't know why,
but she had to try, she had to try.
Dog and Buttefly.


Avatar by Natalie, signature by Olga. My graphics set is complete again! Thank you so much!
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Artie
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Holographic Projection
"Ye're soundin' awfully confident for a prisoner. Ye think... ye think ye can just toy with us, play yuir devilish little games an' nae pay for it? Ye know full well I'm nae the vengeful sort, but with you, I'll make an excep-"

"It's not my plans!" Nat'ren snapped, clenching his little fists in his hands, "It's the Queen's, and you don't have one so you don't know..." His mouth snapped shit and he glared at Miss Rahne as she snarled.

But he didn't stop because he was scared of Miss Rahne. Miss Rahne could only kill him, after all, and killing him would be ok, because if and when he was taken back to Skrullos, he would be praying that they killed him as quick as she could. No, Nat'ren stopped because Miss Jean was here now, and she was true scariness, because even if she couldn't really look too deeply into his mind because of his skrulliness, that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. The Old Guys warned the neonates sometimes about telepathic powers, because they used to use telepathic technology... at least until the Bad Time came and hey were scared now to experiment with mental powers. Nat'ren wondered if Miss Jean was going to try and hurt him.

If the situations were reversed and a human spy was found in Skrullos? Child or not, he would be very very sorry he ever crossed Queen Veranke. Miss Jean had always been very nice to him, but would she continue to be so nice when he didn't tell her anything? Nat'ren backed away from the plastic barrier, his yellow eyes going very wide and very fearful. He was a warrior, yes... but he was still a neonate.

He was still a child.

He watched as she ordered Miss Rahne out, saying that X-Men didn't taunt and torture, and even though he was partially relieved that she said that, part of him also inwardly scoffed. These people were going to fall so easily if they were scared to do what it took to defend themselves. He'd seen X-Men kill when the Purifiers attacked though, he'd seen it, so what was the difference this time? Was it because he was a neonate? Was because she believed that Artie was still alive as long as he was? Or did she want something else from him?

When they were alone, when it was just him and Miss Jean there was silence for a little moment, and he asked, "Are you going to kill me?" He looked up at her and wished he was older, wished he was scarier.

"What's your name," [Miss Jean] asked.

"Nat'ren," he said, quietly, "It sounds wrong though. I've been Artie too long... Are you going to kill me?" he asked again, "Because if you aren't, maybe you should, because my people are going to come and when they do, they will kill everyone to get to me. That's what we do. We are warriors."

But right now, his voice sounded too young to be a warrior.
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Jean
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Telepathy, Telekinesis
Jean turned her attention away from Rahne as she stormed out of the room with red in her eyes and murder in her heart, and regarded the stranger who called himself Nat'ren, a skinny little boy, still mostly in the guise of Artie even now that he was caught; all except for his coloring and eyes. She stared into those eyes as reddish energy flared at her forehead and she reached out with her thoughts.

He talked, his thin, young voice, a voice that Artie had never had the chance to use, asking if she was going to kill him, adding that it was what his people would do. The energy shone like a corona around her head but slipped off the strange physiology of his brain; it wasn't as though his mind was strong, more like it was slippery and smooth, she couldn't get a grip to force open his thoughts.

"Who are your people, Nat'ren? Are they another group of mutants? Like the Brotherhood," she asked. "If you've been hiding with us for a year, then you know what we're like. We try to find peaceful compromises to problems. Your people didn't need to take Artie away from us. What's happening to him now?" she asked, privately dreading whatever response came.
[align=center]Posted Image [/align]
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Artie
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Holographic Projection
He could feel Miss Jean trying to latch on to his brain. He thought about telling her why she couldn't hold onto his mind though. The Old Guys who taught the neonates said it was because once upon a time they had used telepathic energies to control their powers but something bad had happened that turned them into what they were now, and the old machines didn't work anymore, and neither did the telepathy. But Nat'ren didn't know how to say those words in a way that Miss Jean would understand. She wasn't of Skrullos, after all. She might not understand any of it.

Since she couldn't get his thoughts out of his head, she began to talk to him, instead, asking her questions out loud. If he gave her untruthful answers would she be able to know? Was there any point in lying? He was caught, well and truly caught. No one was going to benefit if he lied.

He lifted his ridged chin, and said, "I'm Nat'ren, warrior of Skrullos. My people were the first people when this planet was brand new, but the Bad Times came, and we couldn't be what we used to be. We went down into the dark and the warm near the planet's core. We didn't think we would ever get back to the top, but then, something big and terrible came to the core, and cracked it, and Queen Veranke said it was the sign we waited for... So, we started to replace people. When the Queen chooses you, you don't question. You thank the One Who Loves Us, because that means you are special. I am the youngest ever to be a warrior. I am very special."

Lowering his head, he changed his attitude almost instantly. "I thought I was special. But I failed and now my people will come and kill me." His yellow eyes flickered upwards and Nat'ren said, "If I tell you I murdered Artie... will you kill me? I think I want you to kill me not them. I think you'll kill me nicer than they will. Please... Don't let them come and get me. I didn't mean to fail and break duplication. They'll come for me soon as they've reclaimed the world. You can't stop them. Skrullos is not to be denied."

That last sentence sounded more like a battle cry than anything else.
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Jean
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Telepathy, Telekinesis
Jean unconsciously tilted her head to one side as she listened to Nat'ren. She wasn't buying his story that he was an alien instead of a shapeshifting mutant who'd been brainwashed to believe that story; it would up to Hank and DNA analyzer and let incorruptible science tell them the truth.

"You know we can't and won't do that," she told him conversationally, her voice not rising about the tone of a pleasant chat. She looked down at the child-sized intruder. "You must be quite the warrior to have been specially chosen, and by the queen, no less. You, above all the other candidates. So," she looked at him curiously, "after a flawless year... through hardship and uncertainty, why did you stumble now?"

She looked around her. They were in a segregated area of the infirmary, modified into a make-shift containment. It was sparse but she spied a folding chair leaning against the wall. She held out her hand and the chair came to her like an obedient dog. Settling in for what she suspected would be a long session, she sat and regarded Nat'ren through the clear barrier.

"You've been made," she said and gestured with her palms up, "the jig is up, we know you now as a proud young warrior of... Skrullos, was it?" She still wasn't completely sold on that, there was still the possibility that it could actually be Artie before her, with some cosmetic changes and after his mind had been put through the wringer by a skilled telepath, or after a false personality was implanted. "Explain to me why you still look mostly like Artie?"
[align=center]Posted Image [/align]
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Artie
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Holographic Projection
Jean sat down to talk to him and Nat'ren blinked in surprise. Not at the display of power, but at the idea that she would want to talk to him when it would be so easy to lie to her. She couldn't read his mind so he could say whatever he wanted whenever he wanted but, Jean was smart and she understood people, even alien people, and little boys were, after all, not very difficult to understand. She flattered him and he puffed his chest up with pride.

"Yes, I was the best in my whole sect," he said, proudly, "The Queen came and looked at us, and most of the neonates did not meet her eyes because the Nurse-Soldiers, they say if you look her in the eye and you are afraid she'll swallow you right up. But I looked at her and I wasn't scared, so she said, 'Nat'ren, you have been chosen. He loves you.'" The pride suddenly faded from his face and he crumpled as he realized that he hadn't been worthy of the choice.

When Jean asked why he had fallen, Nat'ren thought for a moment and then he said, "It was because of the Rose. It cut me and I bled, and Sonny and Molly saw it. The Rose knew that I had turned off the gates... but it wasn't to kill you, it really wasn't. I knew you could fight dinosaurs and you would win, but the Queen, she wanted to know how strong you were, and how you fought. So I had to show her. It was the only way I could get her to let me lock down the biosphere shields. I told her that you could beat the dinosaurs and you were very strong, so the better idea was to lock them down. Otherwise, you would be out there when the Reclamation happens. You don't want to be. When the armies of Skrullos attack, the whole outside is going to be wiped out for us to live there instead, but if you are in here... no one can get to you and you can't get to no one, which means you're safe. I did you a favor, I really did, and I didn't mean to almost kill Sonny and Molly, but they weren't supposed to tell... they weren't supposed to see...."

He dragged the back of his hand across his tear filled eyes and as she asked why he still looked like Artie except for his coloring and he said, softly, "I don't remember what I used to look like. Skrulls... we don't have our own faces. We all look the same... if we are in a form too long, we can't change our faces back, our voices, sometimes even our thoughts. We used to be something really neat, the Old Guys teach us... but the Bad Times came and we broke.... we all broke and became... Skrull."

The little warrior looked right up at her and said, "Before we were changed, we built the Savage Land. Before we changed, we were Nuwali."
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Jean
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Nat'ren and Jean JP


She watched the child-sized green being in front of her who claimed to have been Artie for the last year. Buried under another personality or gone all together, that was still a long time and didn't bode well for Artie. But her heart bleeding for Artie now wouldn't help him, nothing would except unraveling this mystery and praying he returned to them safe and sound when it was all over.

Whatever the situation truly was, if he was Artie but know it or if he actually was an intruder, she would have to think of him as Nat'ren and work from that point. Unless he was the world's greatest actor, and his performance over the last year didn't make that impossible, he was more a young boy than deadly spy. She was on the verge of asking about the queen and the 'he' who loves him, when Nat'ren said a word that jogged something in her memory that she didn't even know was there. She blinked as she stared at him intently.

"Nuwali. I've heard that name before." Actually, it was part of a fragmented memory of a girl she carried. Months earlier, while exploring a ruined temple, the memories of an ancient priestess were laid over her mind, Scott's as well. "What became of the Nuwali, Nat'ren?"


"They became Skrull," said the little boy said, "The Old Guys tell us that the Nuwali-That-Were were teachers and scientists but the Bad Times came and we turned mean and fighty. The Nuwali hurt each other and hurt the monkeys here until some of the Old Guys figured out what was happening. They took the sects down away from what the Bad Times did, and the new place, they called it Skrullos, which means Land of Monsters in the old talk. I don't know the words to tell you what they did. De... de... de-evolution? Is that a word?" He frowned, "That was a long time ago. Long long long ago."


For a moment she considered asking him what had triggered the Bad Times but stopped herself; what did it matter now? It could've been an environment change, it could've been a radiation leak, a war, or simply bad luck.

"A sad tale," she told him. "Do the skrulls miss the time when they were Nuwali?"


"No, because none of us remember it," Nat'ren said, looking up at the woman, and frowning, "But it doesn't matter because we're going to rule the world again like we used to. Anyone who doesn't like it is going to die. But you're all safe here. I made you safe. That's good right? You're safe so it's ok if the bad stuff happens outside."

It sent shivers down her spine as Nat'ren spoke so easily about everyone dying. It was blood-chilling and she looked at him with a critical eye, "You know what Artie knew. You think the way Artie thinks," she said correcting herself from using the past tense again. "You know that's not how this works. No one is safe, not even under this shield, yes? You fooled us a long time, but now we know," she said ominously. But she didn't want to turn this into a battle of words, that was pointless.

"Who loves you," she asked, circling back to something he'd said earlier that had struck her as odd.


Nat'ren cocked his head in a way that might have been cute if he wasn't a scaley imposter who was the portent of an invading force, "But it has to work that way. It has to. The Old Guys have told us forever that this was how it was going to work, and we all have to do it this way because that's the way we have to do it." He slumped his shoulders, "They don't tell us everything. We only know what we are supposed to know." Looking at Miss Jean, Nat'ren said, "The Queen loves us, and HE loves us. He's... God."
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