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Ouromov

Gold
Dedicated Player

"“No one quite knows who or what they are.”"

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    Finland

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620 h 5.56 Collector

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  • Last played 3 days ago

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  • RedSky

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  1. Details were always a fixation to him, ever since he read his first detective novel. A candlestick, a tiny splotch of blood beneath the couch, which hand was used by the suspect to sign their name eventually translated into what she liked to have for breakfast, when was her birthday, what did she like watching. They were the solution, the key, the answer to everything that revolved around him. It had worked like a charm, noticing those little things over the years and reacting to them. But as time went on, that exact key found itself stuck on the lock, immobile. With no space to escape or hide the fact that the key did not fit home anymore. Not when things were done like a manual was compelling you to do so. It had become such an instinct to fix things, like a repairman. An inadvertent lie he had been living in and still continued to even after the truth was blatantly shouted at him. A boiling point to their rocky road that lasted for the past year. "You don't even care do you!? You always try to find a solution to me like I'm some kind of new case to crack! There's no file on me, there's no guidebook! You're such a fucking robot! Did you mean it when you said you "loved" me or was that just another bunch of empty words, like a screwdriver that fit just right to a problem you needed to fix!?" His gaze found interesting details on the floorboards for the whole time she screamed at him. "I'll leave the key here." was his answer, short, blunt and emotionless. He knew what she was saying was the truth, there was no defense to this and the fact that those were the only words he could muster after those five years only further confirmed in his mind that singular truth that haunted himself and now had became a poltergeist she had to exorcise out of her life. He was playing house, pretending unbeknownst to himself, but she had gotten close enough to notice it eventually. Usually the void stared back at you as the saying went. A spark of violence, something rotten. Something sharp enough to cut or forceful enough to bruise. Something coming from that dark place. But when she had begun digging at him. She had only grown to see that the dark place in him was exactly that. Nothing. A void, that would never commit to anything, let alone her. And that scared her more. His boots carried him away, running to a place of protocol. A place where for years to come, everything was done by the manual. Even more so than when he was in the police force. And run he did, and it wasn't because of a single person. Perhaps it was because of that idea that haunted him yet controlled his every waking step. That freedom of never having had anything to commit to. Whether he viewed it as a burden or something he was petrified of having, he didn't know. Nobody had gotten close enough or stared at that void long enough to find out. Not even Leo himself. Every other night the music would blare out from his headset, immaculate for how old they were. Listening to that worn out cd with the same tunes. Trying to figure out if he really had felt anything or it was all just a well orchestrated machine for her. Eventually those thoughts just faded away with time and the music became routine. That dumb grin, it already vexed him the moment he stepped into the Chernarussian camp in Takistan. It flared out like a showman's greeting towards a red carpet full of flashing lights. Only thing the man was missing was a tuxedo and some cue-cards instead of a soldier's uniform and a gun. Leo already he would be trouble. "You must be the half-Finnski Chernarusski they sent over, ya? Name's Jaromir Lucic and the grumpy one over there is Milan Straka. I'm sure you'll feel right at home in Takistan, our asses haven't been fired at for two whole days! Peachy keen jellybean!" Leo and Milan sighed in near unison, coaxing out a snort from both after. While Jaromir spread his arms momentarily in a shrug, wafting a dismissive hand at both. "You'll need a bit of humor to get you through the desert, ya? Hot as fuck during the day and cold as hell during the night." "Oh yes... definitely trouble..." Leo grumbled to himself with a snort as he looked at the photo with the three of them. His body settled cozily against a tree near Belaya Polana as the heated orange flare of his rolled up herbal aid crackled silently. He snorted again in a manner that threatened to sail into a chuckle and cracked his neck from side to side.
  2. I really loved running around with you guys. I have a feeling Leo will be seeing a lot more of you and we will see where it goes from there! 10/10 trailer and the repeated use of the word "freedom" for Leo is like
  3. PART 3 - Lost causes Suspicion wracked the nerves of all, it gnawed like a mosquito in the summer eve that you could not quite get a hold of. It would always return to buzz at your ear, to remind you of the what if's and worse case scenarios. The gazes from behind gas masks and sunglasses now set on the woman wearing the bright blue UN-beret. Not the best of fashion choices in Chernarus, Leo had learned this the hard way for his own blue attire. The dance continued along until the woman roused up in defense of the UN. The new Slovakian acquaintances saw blood in the water, like sharks with multiple rows of teeth, only the rows were the bullets in their magazines. Telling a tale of how the UN had blundered and their leadership fallen down into degrading depths even in the terms of the new world. But Leo knew he was there just to listen to the music, as he always had. He knew what would happen if he danced along the irrational distorted tunes of the apocalypse his friend had gotten shot over not long ago. Perhaps the woman would get blown to bits, perhaps just roughed up. It was her choice. A freedom of choice that had been molded in the constant hail of bullets he had seen in the field, the scraggly child soldiers, the ones who worked the fields. The beggars, the scavengers that sold their wares. The warlords and the mercenaries. A dead-set mentality of what is there really to lose but your life, but you always will have a choice. He chose to watch what the UN-woman's own words and actions would reap her. Even though the signs were all there for things to go the path what they usually did, she folded and discarded the hat that she seemed to hold great pride in. A hail of gunfire was surprisingly steadied out into a stern sermon. And the deer scurried off. His gaze flowed over the new company of people, a "hmh" of laughter lacing his throat at the turn of events. His digits lacing against the frequency he had been given as he wandered off on his own again. He could appreciate the woman's bravery, but medals and commendations rarely did anyone any good if they were six feet under. That's what people rarely tell about heroes, that they aren't there to get that handshake, those moments of silence in respect. The cold medal hanging from their cross might as well be any bauble set to decorate the sullen sight. Meaningless in the end for the person beneath it. But to his chagrin Leo was not beyond those sentimentalities as perfect as he thought his theory was. His broad form standing over the grave of Milan as he stood there silently, setting the row of wildflowers against the wooden cross he had hammered for the man after making his grave deeper. The cranes he carried with him, resting now just like he was. "You know Milan, I think it's better you died fighting like this. It was stupid as all hell, but at least you did not live to see the people you cared about downtrodden like this. @DinoThe strong stallion reduced to an old haggard nag ready for the glue factory, trailing after the @Braycesstrong farm-cat that stepped with confidence that turned into a raggedy malnourished kitten afraid of it's own shadow." It was their choice. He knew it was their choice the moment the @Kordrugaconductor stepped in, suckling in the information that had been laid on the table. And they were more than willing to bleed it over willingly, her even more so. Leo knew the voice, he had heard it in many places. In different languages, different places, but it was the same. That soft firm tone, like dripping honey that stuck in. It forced you to hang onto his words, to believe it was the truth and the single truth. Enough of it for that young mind and it would probably have her believe in whatever he said with enough circumstantial facts laced in the woodwork. The way he blatantly explained in Leo's face that the situation was different, that they were helping her instead. Normally it would've made him sick to his stomach, but the lack of protest, the lack of any form of resistance made him draw himself out of the situation. Dancing along the tune of the masked pied piper with one eye. Eager to walk away already. He was not there to sweep after Milan, or anyone. That was his single truth for now, he did not share the same promise he had made with the two lost souls. Even though that small mosquito still buzzed in his ear.... A small prod with a stick to test the ice to catch the villain in contradiction, but that would be enough from Leo as far as pushing it went. It was not his fight after all, he had learned what he came to learn. The girl was scared, clinging onto the idea of safety, not wanting her kidnappers to be hurt, not wanting anyone to be hurt. Confused, lost, scared, wanting to stay. And the man whom the old wolf had told was close to the girl just accepted it all seemingly, perhaps to remain by her side even if it mean't tossing himself and his principles away. The irritation was poignant in his voice though, but was that the extent his rebellion would go to at it's zenith, who knows. Leo's mission was at an end.. but His hand reached for the radio, perhaps as a last favor to the old wolf who had waited on the sidelines for Milan and Nikolai to give word that never came. The call to action that would probably by all lengths prove fruitless in Leo's mind by the scene he had seen. "I think she has been fully indoctrinated, And Nikolai is following in line to be near her. I doubt she would double cross you or anything, but she is covering for her kidnappers. Whatever you think is left of them, I think it is too late to salvage, I am sorry." The @RiZStream old wolf answered in confusion, at Leo's words. Options and theories flowing, as they always did. "I would focus your efforts on protecting your people instead. Believe it or not, it is your choice." Leo bluntly stated. "What is my choice?" "To believe me or not, they made their choices, now it's time to make yours." Not a single beat skipped as the voice hailed through the radio "I will get them back" An involuntary smile tugged at Leo's lips, just like that involuntary buzzing in his ear had risen when he looked at Ellie and Nikolai in their state, that threatened to drive his boots forward into uncharted territory. "Mmm." And so choices were made... Whether it would end up in new graves being dug or uncharted territory with new sets of boot prints on it, only time would tell. The same time would flow on Leo's part and push him forward, his blue gaze painting over the wildflowers that decorated the grave. Luckily they were abundant so upkeep of the grave would not be a challenge. At least it would be routine, chasing away the ever growing abyss that haunted his mind. The lack of purpose and commitment to any other route but his own. And the road itself.... looked emptier than ever
  4. @DookieCS @McLeranth & the rest whose names I didn't catch! For the little time I ran with you guys I had fun, was a pleasure I'm sure we'll meet again for more mischief! @RiZStream Always a pleasure, finally got to meet you again
  5. Ouromov

    So It Goes - [Open Freq.]

    *The man leans against the half-rotted dresser, tugging the cap off his eyes. He knocks the radio against his temple for a few times. Pondering, going over things. His visage remaining still, but his mind was racing. His blue gaze waking into vibrancy with the same determination* "I'm the one who made that radio broadcast earlier that you answered to. I can't tell you my name yet, but perhaps you'll recognize my voice out there somewhere. Names can carry a lot of gunpowder in them by association and finding my friend laced with bullets won't probably earn me many favors in a time where people might gun you down over a bowl of porridge." *He scratches his beard for a hint and leans back, his head tilting backwards. His gaze painting blue brushstrokes against the damaged ceiling. Prying the past open with his words, just like the water was prying apart slowly the structure that he made his temporal home at* "Jaro... was a man of principle, he never stood anywhere he didn't mean to stand. He stuck by his own choices, and most likely stuck by this one to the end as well. If he made it his principle to do this, it was as important to him as the air he took into his lungs. Integrity.. You know he once told me. "Ano.. compromises must be made, but they should never be done at the cost of yourself. Because when it comes down to it, that is the only thing you will have left in the end. You don't want to lose yourself." Perhaps that's the reason we got along so well, he had his own way of doing things. Sometimes not visible, subtle. No words, just a look from his unimpressed amber gaze, a light shake of head *he laughs slightly* Sometimes making his point clear and loud. Honestly, his own words." *He closes his lids over his blue eyes and taps the radio against his forehead again, before pressing the PTT* "He gave room for my own principle, freedom. The freedom to make decisions on my own, to use my words not anyone elses. To walk on my own two feet without bearing on me, just discussing the variables.... But perhaps I've talked too much, but know this" "I don't know what happened in the end, but what I do know is that.. Jaro would never hate anyone for the steps his own two feet took. Take it from a man who knew him for a long time. And judging by how you sounded like earlier and now, you knew him well too.." "I could go on for ages, but I have my own steps to take now. Take care eh.. kitten?" *as the puzzle pieces began lodging together inside his mind* *He does his best mimicry of Jaro though he somewhat sounds similar in his base voice* "Look at me, Look at me, mm? Everythings peachy keen, jellybean, huh?" *He shuts down the radio, tilting the cap against his eyes again. Taking in a deep gulp of air and sighing it out. Pondering on the case at hand, as his arms folded over his broad chest. But then again a nap did good for the mind every now and then after all."
  6. **After an endless wander through the thick Chernarussian woods, the landscape opened up to a familiar sight. He took in the evening air, the cold breeze reaching in from the ocean. He began scraping the forest floor for twigs, moss and other natural materials. A makeshift frame firmly assembled with iron wire. He covered the top with moss along the twigs, before slowly crawling backwards into his hovel for tonight. The entrance hidden by loose spruce branches and the shadow of the actual spruce tree he was under. He lifted the radio to his lips** "I'll be where.. Jaro used to hunker down back in the day, the big building. Tomorrow, in the evening hours (UTC+3 11pm ->) If you know him, you'll know the spot." And miss, he is gone, I'm sorry. I confirmed it at his grave yesterday, I can't really understand..he used to be so... **He swiftly halts himself** "And mister, if you know the spot, you will find out."
  7. **He began listening to the broadcast, furrowing his brow at all the emotion from the young voice flowing out. He mouthed a few silent words amidst the cogs in his head turning, making his own assumptions and filling gaps with received information. He tapped the radio against his head habitually as if the light knocks of pressure against his temple helped his thought process. "Jaro..Wait..He wouldn't.." He silently muttered to himself. And then another voice came out** "A lot of things, but this frequency isn't exactly the safest to talk about those things. I know a few voices now, I'll be listening and I'll be around, ya."
  8. **The radiowaves opened up with fizzling static. The accented Chernarussian repeated before flowing into the same message in English** "Suits, Like sour candy, Pondwater, Amber eyes, Freckles, Stallion, Peachy keen jellybean, Ohio, Doohee, Kitten, lifeless bird nesting on a dirtmound" **He tapped the PTT three times, broke off and once more before his shots in the dark ceased to a more coherrent message** "Contact me on this frequency, I'll know" **He tapped his head against the radio, stretching his back with a languid groan. Taking his first firm steps eventhough the booze weighed on him** **He huffed a lungful of air out and began his light jog. Making a wondrous act of looking like he knew exactly where he was going at all times. Eventhough the destination was unknown. A blue gaze always vigilant**
  9. It's going to be definitely interesting to put the puzzles together with my detective! And see what it forms into, as his motivations, way of looking at life and values are very different in certain areas! :3
  10. PART 2 - FAREWELLS The signal was faint, but it was a signal. He kept bouncing off the radio waves from his handheld while calibrating the sturdy transceiver he found in an abandoned military base. Just like before, the signal hadn't moved, perhaps he had dropped his radio after all. A slim hope, grasping at straws like a claw at a carnival, aimed to pick up the prize. There was always a chance, but in this world, in this moment, positive outcomes came knocking as rarely as those stuffed toys were fished up from their glassy aquariums. Taunting you with a possibility at a distance. The signal became stronger and stronger, so did the weight of the transceiver, perhaps it was the weight of something else? Inevitable truth that had to be met head on. And there it was staring right at his face, the shallow mound in Severograd... The weight of the metal box was eased with a casual toss to the side, but that secondary weight was just growing on his shoulders. Like the weather itself was pressing down on him, the cold chill of winter huffing promises of frost in his ears in the dead heat of summer. Frigid to his veins as the familiar silhouette began unearthing itself with each rake from his digits against the loose soil. The first breath of realization was fire against his throat, a quick draw of oxygen that never quite filled the need. It didn't reach it's zenith and was stuck unfinished. His exhale could not hide the emotion any longer, his voice was weak from it's usual firmness. A haphazard sigh of disappointment and grief that shivered in it's wake. There he was, yet wasn't... Those bright amber eyes had lost their sheen in the winter that had made this mound it's home. The heart of Leo's palm grazed and covered the man's eyes to shut them once more. The rummage through his personal effects began as logic tried to distract the rest of his frost burned body and invite some semblance of summer back into the fold. His blue gaze carefully painting the threads between each affect he dragged from his pockets, and pouches. Two cranes, one in his affects, one set neatly on the mound he had dug open. At first one might think it was some kind of call sign. It was usually the case in any crime, but this was something personal. A gift perhaps, something given to him in life and now in death. His former radio chatter had not mentioned anything of the likes, but it did mention the "assets" again and again. Like a mantra he had begun repeating, that itself already told Leo that it went deeper. Perhaps Milan had been trying to convince himself more than anyone else that these "assets" were simply just that, tools. He mentioned an animal once.. feline.. a cat. Kitten.... Weird. He shook his head, the moment had caught up again, logic had to wait for now, for later. He stuffed Milan's radio into his pouch, placing one of the cranes on his breast pocket. "Might as well give the bird some fresh air after all that time under the dirt, eh Milan?" narrating while neatly piling the loose soil on top of the Lynx once more. The night drew it's first steps, the silhouette of the built man sat against the grave, accentuated by the reoccurring slender frame of the vodka bottle lifted up. The gluck of the liquid echoing in the silent hills of Severograd. His language shifting from Chernarussian to Finnish as the hard liquor paraded into his liver. "Ei perkele, ei se varmaan mikää nainen ollu, ku aina saarnasit et sun exät oli seinähulluja akkoja.." "What made you soft... Or was it just chance...fuck it all!" He grunted in the darkness, the rowdy behavior attracting a few stray infected. But the drunken reveler was still just beginning his howl at the moon.. The maddened barks of curses was cut by the bottle of vodka cracking against the head of an infected, bullets roaring out their entry into the fray. As his pistols made a glorious mess of things. The parade of bullets made a rather odd, but fitting gun salute from Leo's end to his fallen comrade. It was grief turned into anger, fed with each new clip set into the firearms. The loud echo of the last gunshot lingered, traversing into the hilltops. The scent of gunpowder marring the evening air as he allowed himself a weak moment in the darkness, his last one for the man he had called his friend even though it had been nigh strictly business. Informant to informant on the radio waves for these past two years. Not having laid eyes on each other since Takistan. His body laid against the grave slowly curling up in his drunken stupor. Gnawing on a half-chewed cigarette bud like a toddler, Lion and Lynx, finally face to face, for the last time. And then venom slipped through the cracks of his mind as his weakness thrived; "Is this it? What do I do now?" But the detective in him slowly offered a ladder out of the pit, as his coarse fingertips stroked against the paper crane embellishing his breast pocket. "Not yet.."
  11. Dis Leo, Leo is Leo ;3 No snek
  12. His gaze snapped open, in more urgency than the days before. It garnered focus from his surroundings, settling in the green and brown of the forest against the blue canvas of his eyes. He had to move, it had been weeks now, he never stopped contact for this long. Something must've happened, there was so much going on in South Zagoria. Meanwhile Central Kopec had been the same of the old, people clawing at the walls of Miroslavl to get a slice of the pie. The supposed "good life". As far as safety goes, it was guaranteed, but whatever semblance of freedom there was left to be had, was under a constant watchful eye. His movement had to be precise, he wasn't the only one living in these forests near the river area. Water was a necessity and just like any wild beast, people would frequent near it during their time of need. As the range of steep hills soon enough signaled the entrance to South Zagoria. Speaking of precise, that is exactly what Milan had been until recently. No names mentioned to anyone, just "Contact". Ex-Cdf for you right there, maybe that event in Takistan took more of him than it seemed. His tone had changed though, it was never anything personal until he requested a look into his sister. A trail gone cold years ago, it would take a miracle to light it into any semblance of warmth after time, let alone the outbreak. The way he talked about his "assets". Maybe he had gone soft... That was dangerous during these times. He had always been so watchful with those bright eyes, firm and quiet. Reminescent of Hercule Poirot. Very particular in his habits, always watching for someone to slip so he could react, picking their brain. Maybe that's why he was so easy to get along with, we watched, words weren't needed, but we both knew how to react. South Zagoria huh...
  13. Mandatory military service After graduating from the university of applied sciences for the Finnish police, he made a short career in the force, but ended up returning to active duty as a peacekeeper in the FDF 2004-2006 Kosovo peacekeeping forces 2012-2017 Apart of a friendly exchange between the peacekeepers due to his fluency in Chernarussian, working in unison with the CDF Landlocked after the outbreak on a leave of absence, forced to fend for himself in the panic until he began a mutual exchange of information with a former UNFORT collegue "Milan Straka". He covered Central Kopec, until the radio broadcasts halted. Fearing the worst, the man started to head towards South Zagoria.
  14. I'm glad he made such an impact and that art ❤ If only Milan had found his sister, perhaps that picture couldve been reality! ^^
  15. Milan watched over his sister Petra, folding his arms over his chest with that ever-sour face he donned. Petra knew what was going through his mind, she always did. Her doting brother showing his concern with the only way he knew. Those nigh glimmering amber eyes scanning the water, the ground she stood on and her movements. Not a word coming out of his mouth, his lips still. But she knew, and that was all that mattered. "I'm not going to slip, Milan. You should know that, you and Jaro slip all the time" She beamed a toothy smile He huffed some air through his nostrils and folded his arms in tighter, shuffling his digits further beneath his elbows. Even though it was a fact, that she knew. He did not, he never quite formed it into words. Never when she was slowly becoming the bookworm know-it-all little sister with reins on both him and Jaro. Never when the dashes away to the forest became more frequent after their father had drank too much. Never when they met up for coffee discussing their lives Never when that first needle sunk into her arm. Those beamed smiles had turned into the same venom she had spewing through her veins. That knowledge of his way of caring, now a weapon used against him. "You never say anything do you!?" "Just that stupid look on your face, I hate you!" "This is all your fault!". Even when he had silently but precisely shook the dealers with his CDF-comrades, making sure the oasis she had supped on ran dry. The words of a doting brother perhaps more needed than ever, but he had protected her in his own way. But just like that she was gone, she slipped. Like a thief in the night to the west where her thirst could be quenched again. But in camaraderie he had found his words. Jaromir had always been there. His endless jabs, being a smart-arse and poking fun at situations that innately should not be anything close to humorous had an effect on Milan. It had drawn the sour out of him, like sunlight breaking through the treetops. Confusion had turned into genuine amusement, ever since they were children. "Peachy keen, jellybean, no? Isn't that how the Amerikanski say it?" Jaromir grinned That same stupid grin was pasted on his face, as he noticed the glint of the scope. Pushing Milan out of the way to duck against the front seat, as the bullet swiftly took that grin away permanently. So Jaromir slipped. But he was not gone, he lived on in that same stupid grin that Milan now donned, those same stupid jokes that he told. That unbelievably stupid purple jacket. Milan kept doubting, if he had lost himself within his cover... But the more time he spent on the field, on his mission. The more it dawned on him that they were his stupid grins and stupid jokes now. The purple jacket could go take a hike, but the strong words he now had mustered to the @Braycesyoung girl we're the same he never got to say to his own sister, that he never quite got out finally took their first breath. Words of integrity, values and inner strength that he himself lived by. The jokes, poking fun and calming firmness he tried to push the @Dino young man with, granting him space the best he could to make him lead and flourish. Like he had done with Jaromir, watching from the sidelines. Promises had been made, pacts solidified. His mission so far had gone swimmingly, the only thing he had to do was to stick to the same sidelines he had done for so long. But his own principles began warring against his duty, as the young girl was finally set upon by a pack of hounds again and again. Their own agenda pushed out from infertile soil, blossoming into an ugly flower that could call no land home, except this one. South Zagoria. It was home for these ugly blooms, laced in weird shapes that made the logical part of his brain spin. He could never figure out where which piece went and where what root began.. Perhaps it was that confusion that was a part of it... part of that decision Multiple angles, plans galore, advancement. It was all planned out, but then. Then it all came down to one single moment. One mistake, one unfortunate meeting with the hounds As the man next to him raised his hands above his head His words of not bowing down from earlier rose to mind, but he surrendered again It pestered like a thorn against Milan's logical side The consequences, they could use this to manipulate her further If we give in now, they can use this A single hand from Milan came up, it bought him more time, more time to sink into the temporal madness His mind was no longer in his mission, it was only on her now, on his own principles, the promise, the blood pact, his sister, Jaromir His head swimming in the deep end, but the years of training, of muscle memory were there to guide his blind steps "Take away the head of the snake, take away the cause", his bright amber gaze shifted to Radek as his hands reached out for his gun in one swift motion, the trigger pulled back in a controlled fashion as he felt the pressure of the bullets shred through his own side, watching his target go down as well. The last bite the Chernarussian Lynx would ever deal as his own gun had roared out it's own fill, before he fell... The young man began administering help to the lung-shot Lynx, he swatted the hand away with the last strength he had and dragged him by the collar firmly. Close enough for him to hear his final drags of breath invoked into words. "Tell the kitten to stay strong..." As his eyes began to glass over just slightly.. "Petra... Jaro.. I slipped..." as the firm grip fell from his collar, his strength allowing the corner of his lips to form one last crooked grin and then Milan was gone. Having chosen his principles and his word, over his duty. Emotion over logic.
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