Sheep And No Arms

File created: 2009-05-03 10:11

<OOC> Joseph says "So Extinction, no Johnny Turk coming to raid the Aid station? =("
<OOC> Asche says "Your stitches had just burst!"
<OOC> Asche says "I've only got this sheep and no arms!"

Treating wounded in the aid station is disrupted by a shelling attack. Dr Young is nearly blown to bits.

Ocean Beach

The sand on the narrow beach is rough and hard, small stones are also scattered across the area.

A makeshift aid station has been erected here, though it's little more than a collection of tents with cots and tables. The doctors and nurses work in deplorable conditions to treat horrific wounds, fighting the enemies of disease, lack of sanitation and foul water as well as bullets and shells.

Agbesi limps along the trench to the aid station, rifle slung over one shoulder. The black West African ducks into the sorting tent, peering around for an orderly. "Bonjour… Hello. My leg, it needs the changing of the bandage… Hello?"

Kathleen comes over when Agbesi asks for assistance. "G'Day," she says, a little reserved in the presence of the African. "I can do that. How's it been feeling?" she asks, motioning him over to a crate that serves as a chair.

Joseph is back to laying on his cot, still healing after his near-fatal gut shot. He opens his eyes and looks over as the black man walks in. "Oy Lad, good to see you made it!" He shouts to Agbesi.

Zzzzz-*SNORT* Asche has dozed off. He looks almost comical in the way he sleeps, with both arms badly wounded. One could put strings on him and make him dance maybe. And he *snores*. Oh dear. Hearing Joseph shout, Asche jerks awake, almost flapping like a bird and immediately regretting the decision. His eyes water for a moment. He does smile, seeing Agbesi and tries to wave— BAD IDEA. He goes cross-eyed. Aaaah. "H-hi!"

Agbesi hobbles over to a crate, presenting a mouthful of white teeth in a gleaming smile at Kathleen, "Oh, tres bien, mademoiselle… Or is it madame? The leg, it is better every day." Still, it seems to be far from healed - the bandage is muddy and blood-stained. Clearly, he's been out and about more than a little with the splinted leg.

Agbesi offers a smile and a nod at Asche and Joseph. "Yes, I okay! My charm it darken Abdul eyes. He not see me at all. Unlike poor man with the shot arms here."

"Just Miss," Kathleen answers, returning the smile with a shy half-smile of her own. "Or 'Sister' is just as well." She begins to peel off the bandage. "Aye, that's looking much better. Pleased to see you back on your feet so soon. I'll clean that up." At Asche's wince, she glances over, "Steady on, there, mate. Mustn't hurt yourself even worse."

Joseph grins back at Agbesi. "Maybe it was your charm." He chuckles and lays back down on the cot. He looks around for a moment, and notices the nurse working on Asche. He grins and pulls out a Cigar and a lighter. He lights up and takes a puff.

Asche looks torn between forlorn at being unable to wave and grateful for being alive. Somewhat bemused by being the guy everyone is glad they are not. He still has problems sitting still "M'names Richard Asche, just a private," He offers. He does go quiet at the woman's response and nods. "It's strange, I wave at people to greet them…" And yet that's a bad idea. He smiles at Agbesi anyway. Oh well. He looks to Joseph, and shrugs. A little at that but he seems to be holding up well. He has company here too - so it's not so bad really.

"Of course! When one has God and the fetish, Abdul cannot win." Agbesi states this as something so self-evident that it hardly needs saying. He offers Asche a cheerful nod and a smile. "Bonjour, mon ami! You are lucky, that you are alive. My name is Kosi Agbesi, soldat deuxieme classe, and I am also lucky man. And you, sister - no, you are not my sister," the black man offers an almost flirtatious glance at Kathleen, "What is your name?"

Kathleen does her best to ignore the glance, focusing instead on the task of gathering the supplies to clean Agbesi's wound. She gets a basin and sets to work, replying, "Kathleen Campbell. Are you French?" she asks, somewhat confused by his words. To Asche, she casts over a slight smile. "Aye, well, you'll be back to waving soon enough then."

"French? Oh non mademoiselle, I am not a "citizen". I am from le Republic du Dahoumey, in Africa de l'Ouest. I am an evolue, but still not a Frenchman." The black man looks regretful, as if being French was his main, unachieved, goal in life. Some day…

Joseph takes a long puff of his cigar. Suddenly, he starts to cough uncontrolably. He throws down his cigar, still coughing. He falls back down to the cot, his bandages becoming red. "Medic, I think I ripped my stitches out.."

Hff. Poor Asche just manages another weak smile, "Thanks. Hopefully…" He squirms in place, not really used to staying still so long. "Pleasure to meet you too, sir." Even if he gives Agbesi a confused glass. What's a soldat deuxieme? He can likely pick out soldat. He just squints and goes with sir. Yes. He seems absolutely boggled by Agbesi's goals and Frenchiness. But he is more experienced and pretty clever. Respectably religious. Asche can get behind that. He blinks at Joseph, "I wish I could smoke right about now." He just looks sad. The loneliest, no smokingest Kiwi of all. "Oh well, probably good to take a break from it."

Kathleen glances over at Joseph, frowning slightly in worry. She's busy with Agbesi so she doesn't go over right away. Instead she goes about cleaning the mud off his injured leg with a practiced hand. "What's an ev-o-lew?" she wonders.

"You do not know?" Agbesi looks at Kathleen with honest surprise, as if it were part of everyone's basic education. "Evolue, it means… Developed, you would say? Evolved? I speak the French, I can count - a little - I can read and write, and recite the bible. The White Fathers, the Comboni missionaries who raise me, they teach me how to develop myself." The black man shakes his head in amusement at Asche. "Again, you call me 'sir'. It is too much!" He shoots an odd look at Joseph. "Are you alright, mon ami?"

Joseph blinks for a moment then looks around. He lifts up his blanket and looks at the bandages. He looks under them, and sees red. "Well, that don't look to good." He frowns, placing the blanket back upon himself, almost seeming like the wound will go away with something as simple as that. He glances over to Agbesi. "Oh I'm fine mate.

Tanner is puttering around the aid station tent, engaged in various menial orderly tasks. Disinfect this, delouse that, etcetera. Largely, he just seems dedicated to keeping his hands busy. Activity leaves one less time to think.

Kathleen smiles up at Agbesi, a little more warmly when he talks of the bible and missionaries. "Oh, aye? That's grand. Hadn't ever heard of it, no." She looks over at Asche when he laments smoking, "Best off without it, lad." She begins to rewrap the bandage on Agbesi's leg.

For his part, Asche is a pretty good patient. He's a simple, country critter. He's absolutely boggled by Agbesi and turns his head to listen. "Well, I can't call you ma'am," He furrows his brow. A rank is a sir. A rank is a sir. It's apparent Asche has never met someone like Agbesi. The African man might have a fan. "… I mean, I've yet to see you wearing a dress or anything," Boggleboggle. Then, the mental image of Agbesi in a big ole lacey dress and poor Asche goes cross-eyed again. One day, that's going to stick. "Suppose so," He agrees quietly with Katherine. Not like someone's going to prop one up for him and he might catch fire anyway. He peers around, to stife the squirming.

Agbesi beams at Kathleen, happy that someone is listening to him and actually showing interest. The black man blinks at Asche, laughing nervously. Clearly, the idea of a dress seems more distressing than amusing to him. "It is not the tradition for the men in my tribe to war the dress. In fact, it is not the tradition to wear very much at all. At least if one is indigene, undeveloped."

The phrase 'wearing a dress' makes Tanner look up from his absorbing bandage-sanitizing task. He blinks over at Asche. Then at Agbesi. Then back at Asche. He also looks wide-eyed at the image. And his eyes get even wider as the 'not very much at all' is added to it. Back to his bandages. Sanitize, sanitize, sanitize.

Kathleen peers over at Asche, then up at Agbesi to see if maybe he has the faintest idea. Judging by his reaction, apparently not, so Kathleen says to the Kiwi, "Dress? What are you on about?" The mention of undeveloped causes her to look up, curious, "You mean like the koori?" In all her looking about, she notices Tanner's comical look, and calls over, "Oi, Tanner - that lad there was saying something about his stitches. Could you have a look, please?" She points at Joseph.

"Koori? Que-est que c'est?" Agbesi stares blankly at Kathleen. "Oh, it is one of the primitive peoples, non? Oh yes, the world is full the undeveloped people. One day they will all be Christians like me." He adds magnanimously, "Maybe they will even be French."

"Well, you're a sir," Asche states simply. "Really? Huh," He seems curious although only vaguely aware of any distress he's caused. "You um, seem pretty advanced. I don't even speak French," He looks to the ceiling. "Um. Nothing, nothing at all. Just - ah, um - a little joke. I call him sir because I cannot call him ma'am," Asche finally explains. At least, Asche assumes Agbesi is unladylike. Clearly, a bit naive and sheltered from pretty much everything but sheep. "I was really bad at geography," The man finally admits. He does shoot Joseph a sympathetic look.

Kathleen finally gets Asche's joke and offers a weak chuckle. "Ah, well, 'sir' will have to do then." She nods to Agbesi. "Aye, they're the natives back home. I'd like to see the day when they're all Christian - how'd you say, 'developed'? Don't know about the French, though." She finishes tieing off the bandage and gets up, brushing some dirt off the 'knees' of her skirt. "Aye, you're all set then. Just come back tomorrow to have it changed again."

Tanner blinks at Kathleen. In what is, indeed, a comical 'Who? Me?' sort of look. He looks in the direction she's pointing, toward Joseph, and nods. "Aye, Sister Campbell. I'll give him a look." He washes his hands before he does it and everything. That done, he pads over to see to Joseph.

"Thanks," Kathleen calls after Tanner, a bit distractedly.

"Merci, belle mademoiselle." Agbesi offers a radiant smile to Kathleen. "I will pray for these koori, that God will make them more better. God has a special place, for me. He will listen." The black man nods seriously, underscoring his words. He eyes Asche, clearly still not getting the joke.

Joseph looks up at the Doctor as he comes over. "Doc, it hurts here." He pulls back his blanket to show the doctor his bloodied, dirty bandages. "I think I ripped the stitches out."

"Nevermind, I'm - I'm sorry, that was beyond rude of me," Asche finally gives up. He sighs and goes to rub the back of his hea— whoops. He probably had that coming. The man twitches a little. Maybe that's God's way of poking at those who make fun of his devoted servants. "I think that's really noble of you, Mr. Agbesi. Very selfless you know," Nod. Nod. He just offers a smile.

Kathleen gives a shy, albeit genuine, smile back. "That's very kind of you. I'll pray for Him to keep watch over you as well." Apparently she's keen on having found such a religious fellow. Asche's hurting himself causes her to step over that way with a worried frown. "Are you in a lot of pain still?" she asks him.

Tanner kneels down and unwrapped Joseph's bandages to examine the wound. He winces. "So you did. Should take it easy, mate. This'll go much easier for you if you don't strain them like this. Be still. We'll get you fixed…" He starts with cleaning the wound, which isn't that painful a process. "Need something for the pain?"

Joseph gasps in pain as the medic begins to clean the wound. "Christ! Please!" He grips the side of the cot in pain, white knuckles and all.

"Noooo, I'm fine. It's just so tempting to wave or grab something really," Asche admits with a sheepish grin. Heh heh! "You use your arms for so many things you know? Gesture while you talk or read or eat or -" Well, he could go on but he stops himself. "Anyway, it's um, really my fault I'm sure." He's likely hoping to avoid anything poking at him. "I'm sure you're super busy really." Really. "Thank you though sister."

Kathleen gives Asche a sympathetic smile. "Aye, I'm sure it's rough having them laid up like that. No worries, we'll have you fit in no time. You call out if you need anything."

Tanner nods to Joseph, straightening and preparing a needle of morphine. A small dose. The stuff doesn't exactly grow on trees here. But it'll get the job done.

Asche just bobs his head. "Right, right, fine in no time." He'd offer a thumbs up if he could. "Thank you, it's kind of embarrassing really," He looks around. "Oh well. It um, could be worse really," Notably, he glances to Joseph.

Kathleen nods and follows the look over at Joseph. "Aye, we all have to count our blessings." She touches Asche's shoulder very lightly, and then moves over to Joseph's bedside. "All right, Tanner?"

"Aye…I think so, Sister," Tanner says to Kathleen, intent on his task, so he doesn't look up at her. He's gotten plenty of practice at this sort of thing over the past month, so he doesn't fumble with it anymore. He gets Joseph doped, and then gets to stitching him back up.

The worst thing to hit Asche is likely boredom. Left with an active mind and uninjured legs, he could wander - but those arms! Those arms! It's enough to drive one positively batty. He just smiles politely. Count those blessings. Count those blessings. "So um, you're a … nun right?" He's reaching.

Cross arrives from the east being part of a small working detail to aid in the fortifications around the aid station. The soldier carries the typical gear for such a mission. His trusty pickaxes is propped up on his left shoulder and in his right hand is a small E-tool. Once at the edge of the slit trench, the trooper does a small jump inside the fortification and begins work.

Kathleen takes Tanner at his word, giving him a brisk nod. "Grand so," she says, and then looks about for someone else to help. Asche's question takes her by surprise. "Me? Oh, no, not a nun." She doesn't seem to have noticed Cross outside working on the trench.

Cross rests the pixaxe against the wall of the trench line prefiring to start off with his E-tool. Onfolding the shovel, he locks the spade into place for proper digging. The man begins to dig away at the eastern side of the trench trying to expand it to accomidate more soldiers. Digging the basic outline of it was the first task, once the earth was removed he could then move on to refining it and making worthy of hiding in.

Blink. "Sisters can be other things besides nuns?" Asche is clearly a little sheltered. Boggle! That, or he's zonked. He does struggle a little to sit up, on spotting Cross outside. What's going on over there…? Did he see a helmet moving? Shuffling with one's shoulders and back is hard.

Tanner gets Joseph dealt with. In a workmanlike sort of way, but the job is done competently enough. "Be careful not to strain those, aye?" he says to the man as he straightens. The sound of digging makes him turn his head but he doesn't take too much note of Cross or the entrenchment work outside the tent.

Cross stabs at the dirt with his shovel taking small spade full piles of dirt with each thrust outside of the fighting position. Currently he is working one one of the more life saving features of the trench. Digging out the grenade sump, he digs away at the base of the trenchline against the wall a small six inch wide, foot deep pit that allows soldiers to incoming grenades into so they soak up the blast rather then their soft mushy bodies. While a easy an easy task, it is also a mundane task.

"They call all the nurses Sisters," Kathleen clarifies. "I don't rightly know why. Maybe because so many are nuns?" She gives a helpless shrug and then follows the glance out to the side. "Looks like they're building up the trench some." She gives a briefly worried frown at that, then returns her attention to Asche.

Cross shouts, "INCOMING!".

"Mmhm," Asche just smiles. He seems happy he can squirm up a bit at least. "I won't, or I'd be sad." Well, sadder maybe. He keeps trying to peer out though. "Oh. I see," Asche nod. "And I suppose so, our school marm was a nun. I got hit with a ruler a lot," Frown. Poor Asche. He shrugs then jerks up hearing artillery. A mistake he regrets only for a moment by hissing through clenched teeth. "Are they at it AGAIN?"

Joseph cries out in panic as the First Artillery shells hit the beach. He rolls out of his cot, grabs his rifle and promptly hides under his cot.

Cross manages to shout, "INCOMING!" as a large shell lands in the sand sending a cascade of sand and small rocks into the air. The soldier collapse down into the trenchline taking cover. The shovel is quickly disguarded as there is no need for it now. Crawling on his belly he makes it about four feet to his rifle which he quickly grabs and chambers a round. Oh crap.. oh crap.. oh crap…

Tanner hears the shout of 'Incoming!' around the same time as the crash of artillery. It's hard to tell which he responds to first. He swears, helping Joseph take some cover under his cot. He does the same.

Young suffers 5 bruise damage to his right arm.

Young suffers 5 wound damage to his left chest.

Tanner suffers 4 wound damage to his right arm.

Tanner suffers 2 wound damage to his head.

Joseph screams as he sees the shells hit the doctors. "GET BACK IN HERE!"

Cross spots Tanner move out of the trench line, "What are you doing?!" The soldier shouts. Getting ready to climb out of the trench he sees nothing but a flash of light that knocks him back into his trench. The concusion knocks the wind out of him and he coughs trying to get his breath. His eyes sting from the sand that got cought in them. He reaches for his canteen and begins to run the water of his face trying to get the dirt from his eyes. "Oh please let it just be dirt." he mutters to himself.

"Sad about wh…" Kathleen's question trails off in a shock as the artillery starts falling about the aid station. She lets out a shrill cry and ducks down, then recovers enough to try to help Asche down off the bed into cover.

Asche's eyes water as he painfully struggles to sit up. "Just … don't … don't go out there," He whimpers. "Are they okay?" He huffs and asks. He's helped into cover and seems grateful although it's a bit clumsy. "Ladies first," Nodnod. Asche is still a gentleman and likely makes sure the Sister is safe first. He takes cover too, after a moment. The man definitely looks rattled, by the cry and the artillery.

Cross begins to wipe away from the dirt from his eyes and with a bit of blurry vision he can begin to see again. While the sand still stings, he can at least see. With watering eyes he pokes his head out from the trench and spots Tanner, "THis way to the Trench." he calls out to the medic.

Tanner rushes out of the tent as the bombardment starts, to check for wounded. But either he sees none, or he's unable to go to the aid of any. In any case, he doesn't do anything terribly productive out there. Except get peppered with artillery for his trouble. He rushes back to the semi-cover of the aid station.

Kathleen doesn't seem intent on going anywhere. Cowering in terror would be an apt description, as she huddles behind some boxes. But once the shelling stops, she recovers her wits pretty quick and looks about. "Tanner!" she says in alarm, seeing his injuries.

"It's all right, Sister…" Tanner says to Kathleen in a dazed sort of way. In the shock of the whole thing, he barely seems to notice he's been hit. It's not until the blood from a gash in his forehead runs past his eyes that he starts screaming.

Cross pokes his head out from the trench line and his rifle is pointed in an eastern direction waiting to see if any activity is happening at the eastern trench line. Still seeing plenty of soldiers in the trench to the east, Cross decides that his single rifle defending the aid station would be of little use. The man climbs out from the trench line and makes a bee line straight for where Doctor Young and the artillery round had exploded.

Joseph moves out from under the cot. He uses his rifle as a crutch and moves out of the Aid Station. He hobbles over to the Trench and prepares for an offensive that might never come

Kathleen's hands are shaking badly but she takes Tanner by the shoulders. "You're all right, mate. Steady on. Sit down, let me have a look." She tries to guide him over to a crate. His screaming, though, is doing little to help her own frayed nerves.

Young was doing something medically relevant when rounds began peppering the beach. Unfortunately it was something medically relevant right outside the tents, with no cover. Crates and sand exploding around him, some pieces of shrapnel make a bloody, unconscious mess of the Australian doctor.

Asche winces as Tanner screams. "Aah. Um, it doesn't look - er -" Poor Asche, he's fond of Tanner for some reason or another. He shuffles out of the way, to make sure he's not impeding anything. He's probably not helping himself moving up and about, but dangit, poor Tanner. All he can do is sit…

Tanner gradually quiets as Kathleen tends him, though he lets out another sharp cry as she works on his right arm. Painful shrapnel cut, that one. "Doctor Young…I thought I saw…then the shells started exploding all 'round and…Oh God, Sister…"

Cross arrives on scene to where Doctor Young is located. Not being a medic, he doesn't know what to do. "Medic!" The soldier shouts as he begins to get the debri and sand off of Young. Probably not the best thing to do, but he was ignorent when it came to first aid so grabbing the wounded man by the shirt collar he begins to pull him towards the first aid station. Dragging the Doctor in the sand, a small bloddy trail is left behind.

Joseph hears Tanner let out a cry then turns around. He scans outside the trench, looking around. His eyes fall upon the bloodied heap that is or could have been an Aussie doctor. "Christ, Corpsman! Help me, Doc is hurt!" He runs over and helps Cross lift the Doctor, trying not to hurt himself.

"You're all right," Kathleen repeats, trying to calm herself as much as Tanner. She quickly binds his wounds, looking relieved to see it isn't so serious. "That's not so bad, aye? You'll be just fine." A horrified look takes hold when Tanner mentions the doctor. "Doctor Young?" She looks to the tent flap when they start shouting about the doctor being hurt, eyes going wide.

Young's glasses have flown off but thankfully not broken. They're lodged forlornly in the bloody, wet sand nearby, threatened by all the pounding feet running around them. Still out like a light, the doctor's body is dead weight as Cross drags him.

Poor Asche. He looks forlorn. He desperately wants to help. "If I can do anything…" He offers but he's sitting, peering around now.

Tanner just sits as Kathleen goes to see after the doctor, bloodied hands folded in his lap. Looking, for all the world, like a contrite schoolboy who's just botched an exam. "I'm sorry, Doctor…" he mumbles to himself.

A limp body always seemed to weight about twice as much as a conscience one, a lesson that can only be learned here on the beaches of ANZAC. Pvt Cross struggles to drag the Doctor to safety not knowing if another deadly barrage of fire was coming or not. The sand made the task especially difficult to get a sturdy footing to pull the man. As the Doctors shirt begins to tear, Cross drops to his knees out of breath. "Medic!" He was still a good 15 meters to the aid station and completly out of breath. Hopefully the would be able to hear him from here.

Kathleen starts for the tent flap, then stops there, unable to make herself move forward for a long moment. Finally she steadies herself, taking a breath and saying a prayer before she hurries out to help Cross. Realizing that Tanner's not behind her, she calls back, "Tanner! Lend a hand, aye?" Or someone? Preferably someone with arms, no offense to well-meaning Asche.

Cross continues to pant while trying to catch his breath. The sand that has collected on his forhead begins to collect with the sweat building on his brow and now runs into the mans eyes causing a painful burning feeling. Hearing the sound of feet behind him, he tries to look at who is approaching. Blurry eyed, he can make out that it is not a soldier. Probably a member of the Red Cross….to hard to tell for sure. "Help him." he calls out to the blurry figure. "He's still breathing."

It takes Tanner a moment to realize Kathleen is calling for him. He blinks, getting to his feet, stumbling after her. "Aye…aye, Sister…" he mutters. Not that she'll hear him, soft as he's talking. He ducks out of the tent flap, jogging toward the trench.

Young's head lolls backwards, sand tangling itself in his hair. His return to consciousness is slow, first registering that he's squinting at Cross' blurry face upside-down. And second, that everything damn well hurts like hell. Struggling for a breath, the sound rasps its way down his throat and back up. "…the fuck…"

Poor Asche. He just sighs, "Well. This is a little frustrating." He just glares at his arms and leans back to rest. "Right. Sooner I Get better, the sooner I am out of here."

No way is Kathleen able to drag Young by herself, so until someone else comes to help or Walsh recovers, she'll just have to do what she can here. "Doctor? Can you hear me?" Seeing the blood on his chest, she starts to remove his shirt to see the extent of the damage. Visible relief washes over her when he starts to stir.

Pvt Cross continues to sit there on his ass out of breath from dragging the man as far as he has. He reaches for his canteen again and uses the last of his water to flush his eyes of the sand. Being damn near covered, it was a difficult task to keep his eyes clear. At least this time he could see now. Reaching into his cargo pocket, the troop fetchs a cloth and begins to wipe away the dirt and sand. "Oh man…I thought you were a gonner for sure. You must have burned up every favor you have with the man up stairs to survive that one." The soldier states to Doctor Young.

"Doctor Young…?" Tanner says as he comes up alongside Kathleen. Finally undazed enough to assist her in the dragging. He has to do it largely with his left side. His right arm, while not deeply torn up, is tender from the shrapnel. He looks over at Kathleen, blue eyes wide. "Is he…do you think he'll…?" He can't even voice the question.

Young's eyes close and then unstick again. "Heard that one before, mate," he says to Cross, weakly. His voice sounds like he's just eaten a handful of gravel. Ashen, he grits his teeth and closes his eyes again when he feels Kathleen trying to prod the shrapnel injury. His torn shirt is soaked in sand-crusted blood and salt. "I hear you, sister."

Asche is mostly sitting and being armless, which seems to annoy him a good deal. Sigh.

Kathleen mirrors Tanner's wide-eyed glance. She shakes her head. "I don't know," she admits, clearly rattled and unable to muster up her usual assurances. They get him inside somehow and she looks around yelling somewhat frantically. "Someone fetch another doctor!" Surely there must be another around here somewhere.

"Doctor Young!?" Tanner repeats. Yelling at the man. As if being loud might somehow be more helpful. Which he seems to realize isn't a good tactic. He flushes, abashed, after doing it. He helps Kathleen get Young settled, looking the man over. "His glasses…" he mutters, to himself, and not yelling this time. He seems to have noticed they're missing. A meaningless detail just now, but it's one that's struck him.


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