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Inferna: The Fall of Gratislavia [MT/Closed/Attn: Tetrakon]

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Inferna: The Fall of Gratislavia [MT/Closed/Attn: Tetrakon]

Postby Azura » Sat Jun 23, 2012 9:28 pm

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The following story contains scenes of implied adult situations and violence. Those with a weak constitution, or those who prefer not to read disturbing imagery and dialogue are advised to hit the back button on their web browser now. Reader discretion is encouraged, if not strongly advised.


"Betrayal is common for men with no conscience."
— Toba Beta



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The Dawn of a Solemn Hell
The Royal Estate of the Azumethronnian Imperiate
The Capital City of Avsalon, West Azumethronnia
Sunday, the 24th Day of June, 2012 — 12:30 AM AT


There was a quiet, introspective hush descending across the jittery faces of the General Staff—benign leaders, Men of Faith one and all were staring intently towards the front of the war room deep inside the bowels of the royal palace in Avsalon. Heavy arguing and bickering had ruled the evening, long into the night when most of the lights in the capital city had been extinguished. Arguments abounded as to the merit of what they were plotting to do. And yet, when the Achæon stepped onto the scene, people paid respect. It was the mark of a group of warriors, conceding their right to speak to the man who would shortly hold the fate of their careers—and their lives—in the palm of his hand.

Caius stood intently by the front of the long, cold metal table that ran the length of the control room down the center. More than two dozen staffers were seated to either size, with dozens more standing behind them in the pale, dimmed lighting. Muted colors abounded, sans the vibrant video screens which gave descriptive readouts on the various troop deployments that were showing. One large, firm hand stroked at the Achæon's chin, as his glancing to and fro instilled cautious optimism in the men. What they were prepared to do had never readily been attempted before; not like this. Their plans for war had always involved a straight-laced plan of attack. This, though...

It's absolutely unfathomable...

Verily, it was the general sentiment most had been wrestling with. Half of the council had been against the Modus Operandi being established in the contingency plans for the operation. With four military facilities going online in Stedicules within the month, it was already a trying time for the military. There was no way to know for certain if the plan would work, or if the audacity of the plan would draw in a concerted effort to bring down the Anaximander regime from power, or to wipe out the Az'ra Vor entirely. Yet the Achæon was bound and determined to make good on his promise to the elders to repay them for their fidelity after his marriage to Avox Sauzarum.

Though the country at large never knew much about the turmoil inside Caius's reign as Achæon, his grip on power had nearly been undone by his marriage to Avox Sauzarum. Few people inside the Church understood why he would take a Tsellian for a bride; for the longest time, simply looking after a woman of another faith was tantamount to treason, let alone fucking one. Yet Caius was bound and determined to take the Methronnian Queen for his bride, and had succeeded in doing so. And many men, both loyal to him and loyal to the dissenters had died in a secret war, which ended with a lot of the country's great men scent to meet their God unexpectedly. It was a trying time, to say the least.

And one would be remiss in not noting how difficult of a time it must have been for the Achæon. To wage a secret, unholy war against some of the more devout Rithosian elders was not an easy task to perform. It had strained his ties with Silthranuul from the outset, but somehow against considerable odds, Anaximander had made it work. Yet he had suffered a tremendous personal loss from the ordeal, experiencing a crisis of faith and a loss of trust in the nation he had come to admire so deeply. His secret vendetta against those who had sought death to his wife had drained him mentally, and he very nearly suffered their wrath to pass. In the end, it was a sordid victory from which he collected the spoils. Now, it was time to repay those that had switched allegiances for his day in gathering the harvest.

A Harvest of Blood, paid for with the lives of the Children of Men...

Caius turned to the men seated to his right—the War Consuls—and extended his hand. "Gentlemen, Men of God one and all. You know my heart, that it bleeds for my people and their plight. We have been remiss, Children of Azura in our duties before Almighty God, the King of all Kings. Many of you, even you in this room today question my devotion to the ways of my people. You believe that my marriage to a Tsellian has clouded my ability to rationalize the plain truth of our people and our way of life. I say unto you this night, that if you will place your faith in this calling... I shall reward your faith with the promise of a new horizon for our people."

There was a gentle murmur coming up from the room, with the relative tone appearing conciliatory to the young Achæon. It was then that his leading voice, General Rugar Nas'gal spoke up in defense of the Imperator: "Herr Achæon, live forever! We shall follow you to the ends of the Earth, even the ends of our time this glorious night!"

The words instilled a new-found faith in the cause. A raucous round of applause erupted in the narrow room; gruff, insensitive souls who were bred to relish the taste of a fallen soul's blood were clapping for the inevitable destruction of an entire people, and their way of life. Caius rose his hand to quiet them, speaking even before they got settled. "I know that you all are anxious to get this operation rolling. I think, if memory serves, that we are indeed coming up on our window to begin the plan. Before we begin, I just want to let each and every one of you know how thankful I am for your many months of preparation. It would appear that our aim of secrecy in plotting tonight's maneuver have paid off in spades. Our intelligence indicates no increased military preparedness north of the border."

It was the Achæon's brother, General Scaeva Anaximander who stood next. His turn had been rehearsed in great detail for weeks; so pleasant was it to finally be hearing the fateful words on this, a most prestigious evening. "Our operational plans are in place and ready for deployment, Herr Achæon. Sixteen Air Wings are operating on standby alert, prepared for your orders to launch. Our cruise missile sites are on operational alert, and can be ordered to launch on command—sixty high priority military targets will be targeted in the first of five salvos, helping to further cripple their retaliatory efforts following the electromagnetic pulse discharge."

"What of our ground contingencies?" General Mika Vraan inquired.

Scaeva nodded. "We have fifteen airbases in the northern reaches that are primed for service. Crack Sentinel outfits will be flown in through the Vargan Passes into enemy airspace, specifically high profile targets in the southern third of the country. Their job will be to carry out insurgent operations, neutralizing communication grids, hospitals and power plants in the effected areas of our target zone before our landing. Their approach began a little over an hour ago, disguised as commercial airliners on outbound trajectories. So far, they have not been flagged by the colonial government."

General Nas'gal added: "We also have a team of operatives from the Nera Strega who are working their way inside the enemy's territory as we speak. They should be reaching the enemy capital within the next hour, where they will be causing great havoc to instill fear and panic in the enemy population. A special team has been dispatched to attempt to assassinate their main political leaders. Then we have our main military invasion force prepping at our mid-latitudinal facilities at Gadarah, Steniest and Xarana. Sixty divisions will pour across the border within the next eleven hours, after our bombing campaign has rendered their retaliatory efforts futile."

Caius nodded, holding out his hands to draw silence as he took his seat at the head of the table. He uncovered a small cloth that had hitherto been hiding a small inset on the table. In the middle of the inset was an almost-stereotypically large red button, which was glowing softly in the dim light of the control room. The Achæon motioned to it soberly: "This button will send a wireless signal instantaneously to the monitoring station at AFB Gra'can Vaer. It will trigger an impulse that will be received by our orbiting platform, which should be approaching its window of operational usage in the next fifteen seconds. Once I press this button, it will take approximately fifteen seconds for the nuclear warheads on board the platform to detonate. I cannot abort the firing sequence once it has begun. If anyone should have cause to delay our attack, now is the time to voice your concerns."

Not a word was spoken in the room. No one dared oppose their Achæon, even after being given the ability to do so. Resolved, Caius nodded firmly. He pushed the button quickly, drawing the tension out of the room with an anti-climatic rush to the lever. Breathing began much more shallow in the room, as the seconds slowly ticked away. Caius looked at his watch, counting off the seconds—after a pause, he stood up from the table. "General Nas'gal, order your battery sites to launch their cruise missiles when practical. General Anaximander, send a priority one alert through dispatch, and get our planes in the air. The colony's time has come."

His staffers nodded their understanding, relaying the orders. The Achæon merely sighed. "Gratislavia falls tonight..."
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Postby Gratislavia » Sat Jun 23, 2012 10:16 pm

The Tsardom of Gratislavia
Southern Command, Near Azuran Border


It sounded like hell, if such a thing could be attributed to noise. A thousand and one horns blaring endlessly into the cold night, monitors sprang to life, men shot up from their dosing reaching out to their keyboards...but it was too late. The earth seemed to shake for hours, monitors spat out great cascades of sparks while everything began to fall silent. Apocalypse, the harbinger of end times had finally decided to come knocking in Gratislavia.

"Check emergency power on my mark, one, two, three." Commandant Artyom Vlarislav flickered with the backup generator, to no avail. "Check again on my mark, one, two, three...still nothing." Panic began to grip the station as realization of what had just happened came crashing down upon them, the power was out, gone, destroyed by some unseen force that had shaken the ground as it attacked. Panic turned to dismay as the various members of the station fell in prayer to God the almighty.

And then more, like streaks of lightening missiles rained down upon Southern Command, without warning they struck the helpless soldiers. This was no act of God, this was the work of Satan manifested in man's actions. Artyom ran through the chaos, literally manhandling some of his men to their feet as the survivors rushed to the exits, only to be ordered back inside when Artyom remembered the armory. At their lead he charged through the falling ruble, making his way into the armory...and then darkness.

The Tsardom of Gratislavia
Bastion, New Artyomsk


"Get the Tsar inside, move, move, move!" Chaos filled the streets of New Artyomsk as hellfire rained down from above and droves of innocents caught in the cross fire died in masses. At the center of this, agents of the Okhrana moved without care or mercy, cutting down any civilian that dared to impede their progress to the Tsar's last bastion of security. "Alright get that door open, Ivan, Alexi, keep the civies away from the doors at all costs."

At the lead of the Okhrana, a man adorned in black armor that bore no markings gave directions. Hassling his engineers to manually open the doors to the mighty Bastion, while also sporadically pouring fire into the heaps of civilians that had now crowded against the Okhrana perimeter. With a sigh of relief he heard the groaning of the massive steel doors grinding open and looked back for only a minute, satisfied to see the Tsar inside he moved towards the doors slowly gunning down those that dared follow him.

When he had almost reached the doors, he heard a great metallic screeching. Behind him the great doors had begun to close, causing him to sprint back to the entrance point just as it became to small for a man to fit through. He gazed inside, pleading for his men to open the door, but being greeted only by a cool smirk from the one that remained. "Sorry Adam, I never really liked you much." The doors slammed shut with the last traces of a booming laugh escaping from behind the steel wall.

And then they were on him like animals, tearing at his armor for a moment before passing him over as they clawed at the great metal door. A great stampede over took him, a force that would have stomped an unarmored man into dust. With great effort Adam crawled though the carnage, making sure to avoid the feet of the deranged citizens that continued to flow towards the door in great drones.

At last when he came free from the horde he lay there, alone in the shattered streets of New Artyomsk he wept silently clutching at the wounds underneath his armor. Finally the cool tendrils of death seemed ready to overtake him, but it would not be so. For a hand reached down to him, grazing at first, then shaking bringing him back from the edge of the abyss. "Where...where am I?" The words escaped from his lips.

"You my friend," the man who had saved him began to pick him up, much to his displeasure as his wounds where set ablaze. "Are at ground zero, the big end, apocalyptica, the Rithosians finally worked up the nerve to do it." The man, who had come into focus now wore Kevlar like Adam, yet his was colored gray. An infantryman, a common grunt of the Gratislavian army had saved his life. "You look beaten up, anything broken?"

Adam struggled with the question, his mind wandered off into a million thoughts before a tap by the soldier brought him back to reality. "Oh uh, no just bruised. Do you know what happened to the Tsar? Does Bastion still hold up?" Adam asked urgently, finally able to stand on his own, and with horrified eyes taking a first look at the carnage that lay around him.

"Nope," the Infantryman seemed nonchalant at this horrifying statement. "Rithosian Black Ops got inside, made a real mess of the place. I'm with the 33rd Mechanized Infantry, we found Ivan hanging by the threads of a flag, looked real mutilated and chopped up. Nobody bothered to take any further looks after that." The soldier paused for a minute then continued. "Course that was before the second missile strike completely whipped out the 33rd, me and a few boys holed up about a block from here are all we got left."

Adam fell again, this time to his knees as he wept openly now. "This cannot be, this isn't happening, the Tsar cannot be dead. I wouldn't have allowed him to die, he isn't dead." Adam chocked on his words sniffling back tears as he struggled to his feet again. "Whe-where are these other survivors that you spoke of, we must go to them, we must, we must get these Azuran bastards back for what they did." Adam nearly fell again as he spoke, being saved only by the Infantryman who reached out and supported him. Beginning to lead him off through the destroyed buildings and charred bodies around.

"Right this way Commander."

"Co-Commmander?"

"Yep, you're the highest ranking Gratislavian officer we got left..."
Last edited by Gratislavia on Sat Jun 23, 2012 10:20 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Postby Azura » Sat Jun 23, 2012 11:00 pm

The Insufferable Wrath
Sector 051—Alpha Charlie Zulu South Target Zone
Over Sovereign Territorial Airspace of Gratislavia
Sunday, the 24th Day of June, 2012 — 0110 Hours


"Tango-one, break left into bombing formation!"

Captain Gans Varamir began shouting orders through his communication set, trying to rally his squadron together for their final attack run on the Gratislav city of Somniv. The facilities surrounding the large population center were of vital interest to the ground invasion that was scheduled to begin less than ten hours from now. Varamir formed up, taking the lead in a detachment of more than a dozen A/F-22 Rael'saedars—so named for the glorious Achæon himself. Word was just now filtering in through his headset that the Southern Command post of the Gratislav Military had been heavily damaged by a salvo of rocket fire and aerial bombardment. It was time for his pilots to get into the game themselves.

"Red Wing III, this is Varamir. Our package is ready for delivery; form up on my command, and wait for your computer guidance to lock on to preselected targets." He fought with the controls in the headwind, keeping his fighter-bomber steady in the dark night sky. The lights surrounding the city of Somniv were partially out; the electromagnetic pulse's effect had been less effective closer to the boarder, to protect Azuran interests. The gambit seemed to have worked.

"Tally-ho!" He cried out, watching his guidance system lock on. "We've got a target lock! Release the package!"

He could feel the shudder from the pylons as guided missiles streaked forward, arcing delicately towards the horizon ahead. All around him, the sound of missiles firing from the aircraft in his formation could be heard, with brilliant streaks heading for the skyscrapers of Somniv. He pitched downward a bit, watching as brilliant blasts of light exploded in the city below. Fireballs erupted in some of the taller skyscrapers, while great blasts rocked the city streets far below, sending waves of fire blowing through various street corridors in between the buildings.

"Dust one!" Varamir called out, nodding affirmatively at the site. "The payload is home, boys. Let's break low and hard to the south and and make way for the others. We've got five more rotations left to blow through before the night's out."


Sector 051—Alpha Bravo Tango South Target Zone
The Sovereign Territorial Jurisdiction of Gratislavia
Sunday, the 24th Day of June, 2012 — 0120 Hours


Things had been progressing at a clip that was hitherto unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. John Caliean stood beside his counterparts with the Sentinel Corps, looking intently at various maps outstretched in their makeshift bunker. Enough ground forces had already been landed inside Gratislavia to allow them to form up command nodes inside the country—a spectacular success, considering most of the forces on the ground were black operations specialists. To think what would happen when the regular army arrived to the dance. Cailean nodded; the war could not have been progressing better, and they were only a half hour in to the primary operational maneuvers.

This is going to be a bloodbath for the Gratislavs...

Cailean turned to Sentinel Corps Commander N'kar, studying the man intently. As the Commandant of the Nera Strega Initiative, he was naturally skeptical of any Sentinel Corps Commander. N'kar, on the other hand, seemed to have his shit squared away and strack, period. "Commander N'kar, give me good news to send to Avsalon."

N'kar nodded. "Things are going brilliantly, Herr Commandant. Two of my Demolitions Teams managed to take out the nuclear power station outside of Molomsk. I've also gotten word that my third demolition team has successfully detonated their package at the Hydro Plant 1 Dam on the Petrovitch River outside of Somniv. The power grid is failing all throughout the south, and lord knows how many people are going to drown below the dam's runoff."

Cailean shrugged without much concern. "That's not my area of expertise, Commander. I just want cold, hard facts that I can send back to Imperial Command so that they can make a better judgment call on what steps to take next."

N'kar shook his head. "I've got fifteen units in position now; one of my crack insertion teams just radioed in from the heliport at Somniv's largest hospital. They're preparing to destroy the helipad before ransacking the medical stockpiles there. I've got three more teams working on communication towers to the north. They should be out of commission in the next hour."

"Good," Cailean mused, "Very good. What about the bridges and rail lines, Commander?"

N'kar pointed to the northern portions on the map, highlighting key waypoints that had been previously circled. "That's where the rest of my ground forces are at the moment. We're taking out the rail lines here, here... and here by the junction. We're isolating everything south of the fall line for our ground forces. My lateral teams to the west are blowing the bridge heads over the Petrovitch River. All except the ones that we'll need to cross eventually."

Cailean nodded. "It looks like you've got your affairs in order here, Commander."

N'kar nodded: "Aye, sir. We just have to hope we don't run into regular military in these sectors before we can pull our specialists out. I'd hate to fall behind schedule and get caught in the path of the main body."

"I've got several brigades from the 121st Airborne Infantry Division on standby at Gadarah," Cailean hollered as an in-bound helicopter approached from the south. "I'll dispatch them to protect your guard while they do their work. It's imperative that they finish unimpeded, Commander. Though I must say, I don't expect much resistance this far south. The Gratislavs are taking a pounding."

N'kar saluted. "We won't let you down, Herr Commandant!"

Cailean nodded, moving low beside a pair of Sentinel Corpsmen heading towards the helicopter. Before he got out of earshot however, Commander N'kar hollered after him: "Herr Commandant, is it true that the Nera Strega units eliminated the Tsar?"

Cailean turned slowly, giving a throat-slash gesture. "Aye—the Tsar is hanging in the capital."
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Postby Gratislavia » Sun Jun 24, 2012 7:53 pm

Darkness Be Rising


The Tsardom of Gratislavia
Southern Defensive Line, Near Azuran Border


The Southern Defensive Line, if the ramshackle of scattered rooftops occupied by the remaining Gratislavian personnel could be called such. Had become the frontline, from the roof top of the Gromnski Automotive Factory a group of determined engineers from the 181st, who had been in charge of defending and maintaining the dam fired what little anti aircraft ordnance they had. While other elements began to construct makeshift machine gun nests in the upper portions of the building that weren't flooded in preparations for the Rithosian amphibious advance that would have to pass in front of the building.

"Cremneko! Get that MG set up, no telling when the Rithosians are gonna make a move into the interior and we're gonna take out as many of those fuckers as possible before they get us." A man in green Kevlar, whose rank identified him as a sergeant and name tag called him Petrovosk shouted to his men. "Umvik as soon as you run out of rocket ammo get the fuck off the roof, no point in illuminating us as a hardpoint." Petrovosk shouted again, this time up the hatch to the roof.

"Sergeant Petrovosk, staying here in general is a bad idea, those Azuran bastards are sure to bomb us from above if we do. We gotta keep moving, keep picking up survivors and get the fuck out of Somniv." A private also dressed in green Kevlar, whose name tag read Artyom spoke now to the sergeant. "And in any event we won't be able to hold the Azurans off for forever, as soon as we run out of ammo we're fucked. We might as well get the hell out of here while we still can sir."

"Artyom," Petrovosk began. "Are you a fucking moron? Unless you got a life raft jammed up that dumb ass of yours we won't be going anywhere. Unless of course you want to swim through all that shit, in that case be my guest." The Sergeant paused again, looking out through one of the cracks in the masonry out towards Somniv, his home town, his birthplace, and likely his resting place. "And I ain't leaving until I kill as many Rithosians as possible, nobody does this to my city and gets away with it."

The private only shook his head, turning away from the Sergeant and beginning to walk down the flight of stairs behind their position. "I'm going to go check out the infirmary, see if they need any help." The sergeant only grunted in recognition of the privates statement, not that the younger man even heard it as he was already down the stairs. Walking into what the Gratislavians had named their infirmary he was struck by the distinct smell of death that always seemed to linger in such places.

"If you aren't going to help get out of here, the place is crowded enough as it is private." A medic towards the back of the long room, leaning over a makeshift stretcher called to the private as he walked in. "If you do wanna help you can grab that clip board over there and start doing triage we-...or well rather do you have any medical experience at all private?" The medic called again, multitasking as he wrapped a gauge tape over one of the wounded men's flesh.

"Aye," Artyom called back to the medic. "I was a paramedic before I enlisted, I can perform triage and treat minor wounds well enough." The medic only nodded to Artyom as he moved to the next man. "I'll get to work then," Artyom grabbed the clip board and began moving among the men. Marking down those that were unconscious, conscious and already dead before writing the wounds next to the names of those that where still alive."

"Slow down there private, you gotta mark em too not just write em down." The medic called back tossing a trio of permanent markers to Artyom. "What's your name anyway?"

"Alexi, Alexi Artyom. Most people just call me Artyom though, they think it's kinda weird I have two first names I guess." Artyom reached down and marked some of the dead fellows red before moving onto the next row, happy to find a few of the men with only minor wounds. "These guys should be able to help us fight off those Rithosian bastards anyway." Artyom marked them with blue on the wrist before moving along to the next huddle of men, conscious but badly wounded. "Yellow for these guys right?" The medic nodded back to him. "What's your name anyway?"

"Nikita Trush, educated at Molomsk technical university. Thought it'd make my folks happy, and they didn't ship me off to the army so I guess it did. Kinda ironic where I am now eh?" The two men laughed, shocked at themselves after the noise escaped from their lungs. They were silent for a moment, then hysteria took over and they both dropped to their knees laughing aimlessly. War did strange things to man, and I suppose laughter is as good as any stress reliever...

The Tsardom of Gratislavia
Molomsk, Molomsk Nuclear Reactor Plant


"Vassily get door A003 closed, we can't let any more radiation seep out of the reactor unless you all wanna die!" A man in a white lab coat, and huge spectacles shouted above the chaos in the plant's central mainframe. "Maria, have you had any luck restoring automated command to the terminals here." The man who was obliviously in charge shouted to a younger woman seated at a small terminal jutting out of the wall.

"No sir," the woman typed into the terminal furiously. "The Azurans did a number on the wiring, we can't shut anything automatically and it appears they killed most of the staff before leaving the facility. If you want to shut any of the doors you're gonna have to send a team to do manually." The woman stopped typing and looked at the head scientist. "It's a suicide mission of course, the teams suits should give them enough time to close the door but by then they'll have been exposed to fatal doses of radiation."

"I'll go," the man called Vassily spoke up now. "I know how to close the door, I'll lead the team to close it." Vassily, who looked to be around forty five stood up from one of the consoles slowly and looked around at the men and woman in the room. "I'll need...I'd say three more of you to close the door with me, the fucker is heavy and I won't be able to move it on my own." Vassily finished, beginning to grab one of the radiation suits that was stored away in the mainframe.

"I'll go," the girl called Maria spoke up, reaching for the second radiation suit.

"And I," came the man in charge as he began to suit up.

"And I as well," came a call from one of the only armored men or women in the room. "If we had just killed the Azuran bastards it wouldn't be a problem, might as well fix what I let happen eh?" The man stated as he clamored into another of the radiation suits.

"Alright let's go," Vassily lead the group through a series of winding corridors, sharp turns and eventually into a vast chamber that dominated the central part of the power plant. "Door A003 is there," Vassily pointed to a half closed bulkhead at the other end of the room. "We'll all have to grab that bar and slide is shut, quickly with me." Vassily ran to the door, shocked a bit as the needle on the built in Geiger counter began to jump rapidly when he reached the door. "Together now on three!"

The four compatriots gripped the bar, and then in an instant through their weight against it. Until at last a grinding metallic sound greeted them as the door slid shut. "That was easier then it looked, and I think we might have even survive the radia-" The woman Maria was silenced as a peculiar swimming sensation filled her mind, and just before she passed out she noticed her comrades fall to the ground around her. Darkness had fallen upon Molomsk, Darkness had risen in Gratislavia...
Last edited by Gratislavia on Mon Jun 25, 2012 10:54 am, edited 1 time in total.
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