Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm hanging on by a thread, so I apologize to the readers I still have left. BTW, I've heard there's this Buffy/Xander thing in the comic book? What's up with that? I'm not sure if I like it. And a big, fat, thank you to the great Chrissie. Thanks for not quitting on me!!!
Chapter 19: What is it good for?

Previously: Drusilla finally got Tierre alone for the heart to heart she’d promised him. Things started out emotional between the two, and then Tierre got down to business. Dru told Tierre that she suspects that Franco would shatter reality as they knew it. Tierre wouldn’t believe her and in desperation, Dru accused Franco of killing Maria. It was not a wise career move on her part as it pissed Tierre off good and proper. Meanwhile, Buffy was languishing in Tierre’s room, mourning all the time that they lost. She’s beginning to see who ‘Tierre’ really was in relation to her Spike. While formulating a plan on how to smuggle Tierre to her home in San Francisco , Buffy got hit with a strange sensation. She and Angel ran down to the kitchen. Buffy tried to approach Tierre and got a concussion for her trouble. Angel explained to Buffy that Tierre may possess the ability to manifest emotion. Buffy discovers that she can feel what Tierre is feeling, and Angel let slip the name ‘Maria’. Tierre regained control of himself and tried to heal Dru, but while his technique worked well enough for her, it rendered him unconscious.

***

Seyhan found Willow , Giles and Xander attending to the various needs of their Slayers. Doctors in long, white coats drifted about, performing their tasks efficiently and professionally. Although to Seyhan the doctors seemed normal, human, medicine men, he noted that the three Council heads kept wary eyes on them.

Instead of being settled in individual private rooms, the Slayers were placed in one large common room with several cots lined up against the walls. Safety in numbers. Seyhan thought that it was a wise move on the Council’s part. Wolfram and Hart was not an organization to be trusted. Their existence had been brought to Seyhan’s attention during his brief foray into the human world some 60 odd years ago. Even then, they had been among the most talented wielders of evil Seyhan had ever heard of.

Not unlike the Scarlet Empire. It was a wonder the two forces managed to exist in the same realm at all.

Willow saw Seyhan first. She smiled at him, and he noticed that the cut on her lip had already healed.

“Hey,” she greeted softly, making her way over to him, “How are you doing?”

“I am well. How…your people…are they…how are they?” Seyhan gesticulated awkwardly. He was not used to expressing concern for humans.

“They’re okay. At least no one was fatally injured. And they do have Slayer healing on their side.”

“Yes, it would appear so.”

“What about Dru and Angel? Weren’t you with them?”

Drusilla and Angel had already left. Seyhan knew that because he’d gotten lost looking for the room the Slayers were in. Too proud to ask any human for directions, he had simply wandered around for a while, until he found himself back where he started: the hallway outside Drusilla’s room.

The door had opened and Angel and Drusilla walked out. Seyhan hid in the nearest stairwell because he hadn’t wanted them to see him and ask him what he was doing, just lurking about. He was embarrassed enough about being lost. Thankfully, the two vampires had been too engrossed in their mutual **I wonder if this wouldn't have a better impact as** brood silence to notice him. He had followed them stealthily, hoping they would lead him to the Slayers, but before he even knew it, they were exiting the hospital. Having no other choice, Seyhan had turned to a nurse for directions.

“They left,” he told Willow .

“Who left?” Xander asked, joining them.

“Angel and Drusilla.”

They young man’s eyes narrowed, “Angel and Dru left? For where?” then, answering his own question, he put his hands on his hips and scowled, “Back to the base, of course. They just left us here, in a Wolfram and Hart hospital. What was Angel thinking?”

“Umm…maybe he was thinking about Buffy?” Willow ventured.

“Oh, right. Well, good move, then.” Xander did two tiny nodding motions with his head towards Seyhan, “Hey, Seyhan, m’man. How you doing? You need anything?”

Seyhan found Xander irritating. The boy was clearly a member of the Slayer’s inner circle, which meant they were allies certainly, but that did not give him the right to be so familiar or casual with a Vashkan lord. But Seyhan needed the young man on his side, if he was to gain the Slayers’ aid. “I’m fine. I was hoping that everyone else here would be by now, too.”

“Why? What’s the rush?”

“We need to go to…what’s that place? Oh, Montana .”

“Now?”

“We haven’t heard from the other Slayer. Or my brother. I fear that something may have happened.”

“Fear not, Legolas. Faith can kick some serious bad ass long before most bad asses even notice that she’d raised her foot. She’ll protect your brother.” Xander clapped the elf’s shoulder jovially. Xander and Faith had never become friends, but the Scooby trusted the dark Slayer’s fighting skills¯ if nothing else ¯ completely.

Seyhan reflexively shrugged off Xander’s hand, his irritation mounting, “Are you going to help me go after my brother, or not?” he snapped.

Xander frowned, “Hey, what’s your—”

“What’s going on here?” Giles interrupted, finally noticing the three of them gathered together, came over leaving the doctor who was checking a Slayer’s wound warning glare.

“G-Man! Elf-boy here wants to go after big brother, and he wants our girls to go with him.” Xander explained with lashings of sarcasm.

“The Slayers need their rest, Seyhan.” Willow said.

“They’re Slayers. They should be recovered by now, surely.”

“Well, they’re not. Some of them have suffered severe injury, and after all they’ve been through tonight, I won’t allow them to be led straight to another battle. Not so soon.” Giles said firmly.

“Not even if the people you sent to Montana are in grave danger?” Seyhan pressed.

“And what makes you think they are in grave danger?”

“We have not heard a word from them since they left!” Seyhan exclaimed, “For all we know, they could be dead.”

“I will not belittle you by employing the old adage that ‘no news is good news’, Seyhan, but it would be foolish to assume a danger we have no indication of. I’m sorry, but we can’t leave New York , Seyhan. Not yet. And not by ourselves. We have to take Tierre with us.”

The elf-lord fumed, “Fine. I shall go by myself.”

Willow exchanged an alarmed glance with Xander. Seyhan and his people were still pretty much unknown players in the game and that made her uncomfortable and uncertain with how to deal with him. Right now, the elf lord was too emotional, too volatile to listen to reason. She laid a hesitant hand on Seyhan’s arm, “Seyhan, please don’t go. We need you here. If you’re so worried about Selig, there is a way to find out if they’re alive.”

Without further ado, Willow closed her eyes and started chanting softly to herself, her words gentle and almost musical. When she opened her eyes again, they were no longer green, but a white that was luminous. She tipped her head back, the long strands of her hair stirred by an unfelt wind.

“What is she doing?” Seyhan asked.

“Reaching out to sense Faith’s aura.” Xander replied, “She used to do this to find Slayers, but then she developed an advanced scrying spell for that. We prefer the scrying spell over this because it doesn’t tire her out so much afterwards. But if you wanna know how your brother is without having to leave New York unprotected, this is the only way. A scrying spell just won’t be enough to sense if they’re hurt or anything, you know.”

Seyhan’s gratitude towards Willow kept him from returning Xander’s angry glare.

Giles watched Seyhan curiously, “Lord D’Harken, may I have a word with you after this, please?”

Seyhan raised an eyebrow at the Watcher, but at that moment, Willow came back to them. Her breathing was ragged, as though she had run a mile or so, but she was smiling, “Whew! Haven’t done that in a while!”

“You okay?” Xander asked.

“Yeah. Seyhan, they are all still in Montana . And as far as I can sense, their auras are complete, which means they are all alive, and other than a little occasional fuzziness, still pretty vibrant, which means to a certain extent, they’re well.”

Seyhan finally allowed himself to feel relief. He turned to Giles, “What is it you wish to speak with me about?”

“Er…perhaps we should speak in private.”


~*~*~*~


Giles had seen plenty of terrible and incredible events in his life. Despite his thorough training, none of his studies had ever truly prepared him for the actual nightly battle that he had undergone by his Slayer’s side. He didn’t think any Watcher could ever really be prepared for the responsibilities handed to them.

But times had changed, and he was no longer just a Watcher. His Slayer had become the most powerful her line had ever produced. The children he had played surrogate father to had all grown up and were building lives of their own. Things had finally turned right for all concerned, and they had finally been granted the peace they had all been craving.

It was their rightful reward. Giles truly thought they had faced every horror imaginable and had defeated every threat the mouth of hell could spit out.

He was wrong.

Grimly, he led the small group out into the hospital garden. “ Willow , would you please cast a protection spell for all of us.”

Seyhan immediately scanned their surroundings with alert eyes, “Do you expect us to be attacked?”

“Not in the manner that you think, no. This spell is to protect us from prying eyes and ears.”

Willow did as she was asked, giving a satisfied nod to her companions as soon as the spell had been cast, “We can talk now.”

Giles pulled out the Scroll that Willow had given to him while on their way to the hospital. “Do you understand what is written in this scroll?” he asked Seyhan. The elfin lord examined the Scroll with utmost care.

“Unfortunately, no....”

“But you haven’t even read it yet.” Xander pointed out, “Or…can you do that? Read books by just touching them?”

Seyhan didn’t dignify what he saw as a ridiculous statement with a reply, and continued addressing Giles as if his negative reply had not been interrupted, “We had thought this Scroll to be forever lost,” he murmured, “Only the Balancer had remained with us. According to our legends, both the Scroll and the Balancer have been handed to their human guardians. There are no explanations as to how, or why, the Balancer was returned to us. All this time, I had assumed that the Scroll remained with the humans.”

“Turns out you were right.” Xander muttered.

Giles was getting frustrated, “So you have never seen this Scroll before? How can you be so sure that you can’t read it?”

Eyes on Giles, Seyhan carefully opened the Scroll with a deliberate flourish. He looked down at it with a frown, staring at it for a few moments, and then he looked up at Giles again, “I cannot read it. This language is not purely Vashkan. It is so ancient, we have no written record of it save for this Scroll. I know, however, that this language is bastardized¯ a combination of human language and one of the earliest forms of elfin dialect.”

“And it is not familiar to you even though you are the scholar?”

“Do not forget, Watcher, that I am primarily a ruler. I frequently have other, more pressing responsibilities than academic pursuits. I do not have the freedom to indulge in my true passions as often as I’d like.”

“No, I suppose you do not,” Giles looked Seyhan in the eyes, “But my grandmother did.”


~*~*~*~

ENGLAND, 1964:

“Rupert! Rupert! Where are you, you insufferable little git? Rupert!”

Rupert Giles, 11 years of age, and already quiet an accomplished little bounder, cringed at the anger in his father’s voice. He pressed himself against the smooth wood that enclosed him, tucking his legs even closer to his body so as to make himself smaller. Surely, his father wouldn’t find him underneath this work desk?

“When I find you…!” his father continued to rant.

“Joseph! What is the matter with you? Why are prancing about, yelling the house down?”

Rupert smiled to himself upon hearing his grandmother, Helen, come to his rescue yet again. His father might have a temper, but it never held much power in his grandmother’s house.

“I’m looking for Rupert. He’s gotten himself into trouble yet again and he knows it. Which is why I’m certain he’s come running here. As always.”

“Rupert isn’t here.”

“Oh, come now, Mother¯”

“Do you see him anywhere, Joseph? No. That’s because he’s not here. Now I don’t mean to be rude, but you’ll have to take care of this on your own time. I have work to do. And so do you.”
The dismissal was clear. Joseph tried to convince his mother to just ‘hand over the little coward’, but Helen would have none of it. After a few more minutes, Rupert heard the door open and close.

He stayed where he was, just to be safe.

“Come on out. He’s gone.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Rupert crawled out from beneath the desk and grinned at his grandmother, “Thank you, grandmum.”

Helen sighed. She was an old woman, her hair was gray and her face was lined. But her eyes remained as sharp as ever. Those eyes pierced her grandson now, “You know I hate lying to your father, Rupert. What have you done this time that has upset him so?”

Rupert pouted petulantly, “It wasn’t my fault. He made me babysit that ignoramus, Gilbert Bradley, once again, while he and Mr. Bradley talked over Scotch.”

“Did Gilbert do something to your books again?”

Rupert’s eyes shone with evil glee, “He tried.”

Helen fought to stamp down her smile. Rupert was born to a family of Watchers, and one day, he would become one himself. Fighting would become necessary for his survival. But for now, she would discourage him from getting into fisticuffs with the neighborhood boys. Even if most of them, were, indeed, ignoramuses.

Assuming a strict demeanor, Helen went over to her desk, where her current obsessions lay scattered. Rupert drew closer to her, curious, despite his usual aversion to all things relating to his father’s ‘calling’.

Rupert gazed in wonder and confusion at the objects on his grandmother’s table. “What is that, grandmum?” On top of the desk lay a large piece of grey flat stone, with inscriptions on it the likes of which he’d never seen; several pieces of yellowing parchment with even more inscriptions¯ different from the ones on the stone; and at least three of his grandmother’s prized ancient texts.

Helen sat down in front of her desk and pulled open a drawer. She retrieved an ordinary writing pad with blank pages and a pen from the drawer. When she flipped open the pages of the notepad, Rupert saw that there were plenty of writings on it, most of them scratched out. He was surprised. His grandmother was usually a neat woman, even with her handwriting.

“These, my dear,” Helen reverently traced the inscriptions on the flat stone, “are the writings of the great Lorea. She was an elfin princess and she led a mighty alliance of men and elves against the first apocalypse there ever was.”

“What does she have to say?”

Helen chuckled, “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“And what are these?” Rupert reached out to touch the yellowing papers, but Helen gently caught hold of his wrist.

“Careful, dear. They’re very fragile.” Satisfied that her grandson was more wary, Helen continued to explain, “These are the most recent reincarnation of the so-called written record of that ancient Alliance .”

“Why does it look different from Lorea’s writings?”

“You’ve noticed! Smart boy. That’s because this isn’t an elfin language, dear. It’s human.”

“But this isn’t Egyptian, or Sumerian, or any other ancient language.”

“No, it’s not. It is a lost language. For the rest of the world, it doesn’t exist.” Helen smiled impishly and tapped her grandson’s nose, “But we Watchers know better.”

Ignoring her subtle teasing, Rupert changed the subject, “Why are you translating these? There isn’t a coming apocalypse, is there?” he asked worriedly.

“Oh, no, dear. You don’t have to worry. Nothing ominous is coming. This is just a hobby that I have more time for now that I am retired. Old women like me need to keep busy.”

In a rare show of affection, Rupert hugged his grandmother, “You’re not old grandmum,” he murmured, “By the way, why do the humans have Lorea’s writings?”

“No one truly knows, dear. It was so long ago. But apparently, the Alliance had been so powerful that up until now, we believed that tangible proof of our connection to the elfin race existed. We don’t know what knowledge they have of us…or just what we have of them.”


~*~*~*~

“Now I do,” Giles mumbled.

“Giles?”

“Watcher?”

Blinking to clear away the fog of a beloved memory, Giles refocused on his companions and ally…if ally Seyhan truly was, “I…I’ve seen these writings before¯ or something very similar to them. My grandmother was a Watcher, and she worked on translating the literary work of an elfin princess¯”

“Princess Lorea,” Seyhan finished for him, “She was my ancestor; the matriarch of the clan D’Harken.”

Giles looked at him, suddenly realizing that all those stories his grandmother used to tell him were, indeed, based on facts. He was looking at a descendant of the princess he had always thought of as merely a myth.

Then again, to the Vashkans, even the Balancer was a myth.

Giles was unaware that Seyhan was looking at him in a similar manner. Seyhan now understood where his youthful fascination with humans had been sprung from. A part of him had never believed in the Alliance , in the old story of elves and humans uniting against a common enemy. And yet…how did Giles’ grandmother come upon the writings of Lorea?

The buffoon in Xander couldn’t help but burst the solemnity of the moment, “Whoah…you two aren’t gonna kiss, are you?”

“May I see them?” Seyhan asked Giles, pointedly ignoring Alexander, “Lorea’s writings, I mean. May I see them?”

“I know this can be described as looking a gift horse in the mouth, but, uh, what about Montana ?” Willow asked softly, “Not that you should go, but why have you changed your mind? You are changing your mind, right?”

“I must know…what it is about the Balancer that these criminals are so willing to risk a war for it.”

“And you think of that just now?” Xander sounded serious this time, “You were so gung-ho with the vengeance, you never once considered there was more to this than just your run-of-the-mill power hungry tyrant?”

“My mistake,” Seyhan replied calmly.

Xander stewed.

“What makes you think there’s anything in those writings about the Balancer?”

“Because if there’s anyone who would have known, it would have been Lorea,” Seyhan reasoned, “She was there, after all. For all I know, she could’ve been the one who gave up the Balancer. For all I know, she was the Balancer’s true guardian!”


~*~*~*~


Franco met Scarlet Ghost outside his mansion’s front doors. They had arrived immediately after two simple phone calls and Franco had never been more grateful for their timely appearance. But he didn’t waste time expressing his gratitude.

Without so much as an exchange of pleasantries, Franco outlined his plan briefly and thoroughly. Like the professionals that they were, the two members of Scarlet Ghost listened, asked only the necessary questions, added vital suggestions, and in the end, went off into the night, armed with grim determination to get Tierre back.

Franco gazed after them, feeling an emptiness yawn in his stomach. Scarlet Ghost was the best team in all of Scarlet and he trusted them implicitly. And yet, he felt no comfort knowing that they were now on the job. The truth was that he felt useless. He couldn’t go and fight for Tierre himself, though he wanted to more than anything else right now.

Franco was aware that he was an extraordinary man. He was aware of it since boyhood, when he realized that he thought differently, acted differently, even saw things differently from most people. But the qualities that made him distinct, that allowed him to break the mold, were not supernatural. His power lay in intelligence, in the ability to amass great wealth, and the mysterious legacy that was his alone. But he was not in league with a vampire, nor a Slayer. Let alone an army of them. Franco had no doubt that they were headed for war. Angel had all but declared it. Franco wasn’t afraid of a fight, but as painful as it was to admit it, he was perhaps the most vulnerable among all of Scarlet. And if he got hurt, Scarlet got hurt.

Right now, Scarlet was Tierre’s only chance.

Franco watched them vanish into the shadows, and then he walked down the stone steps of his mansion and entered The Forest. He vaguely registered the silence that blanketed the place, reminding him that the estate was close to deserted. He had sent the vanguard to Montana and the other teams to various other countries and some to dimensions unknown to most humans. Angel had outdone himself as far as timing goes, just this once.

Franco reached the center of The Forest, a part which the participants in that night’s battle hadn’t been able to.

Somewhere close to the heart of The Forest existed a small, man-made lake. The Forest had been cultivated for protection and defense, and most of Scarlet’s enemies believed that it protected the mansion.

They were wrong.

Franco bent down to kneel on the bank, and reaching out, touched the surface of the water.

Water peeled back from the bank, like cloth being pulled away from the table it covered. More and more ground was revealed, going deeper and deeper, until the water stopped moving.

Franco had started walking down the line of flat stones that bisected the bottom of the lake, the water retreating at his approach. He couldn’t help but smile at the irony of Nelson Thorn drawing inspiration from the bible when he designed this lake nearly ten years ago.

The last of the flat stones was in front of the multi-billionaire. It slid out of the way and a long, cylindrical vault rose from beneath the wet earth. Its doors slid open and Franco stepped inside. As the elevator descended back into the ground, above, the water flowed back, filling the space it had vacated. Within seconds, it looked like a calm, little lake once more.

The fluorescent lights had turned on as soon as the elevator had closed its doors.

A minute later, and the ride ended. The elevator door opened, and Franco stepped out into a vast, underground facility that would put that pitiful mockery of a secret government operation, the Initiative, to shame.

The facility had no name. It was here that Franco stored the treasures Scarlet had gathered for him over so many years. Well, not all, the more dangerous ones had to be kept close.

The scientists looked up, surprised but pleased to see Franco. The facility was Utopia to scientific minds such as theirs, and Franco was a god to them. Or, perhaps, Thomas Edison.

They tried to greet him. Unlike the black ops division of Scarlet, these scientists knew next to nothing about combat. Most likely, they still had no idea about the fight that had taken place aboveground that night, or that Tierre had been kidnapped as a result of that fight. Franco ignored them all. They couldn’t help him now. He continued walking down the facility until he reached a gray, metal door. Beside the metal door was a scanner. Franco put his thumb over it; he barely felt the tiny sting as a drop of his blood was drawn from him by the intricate machine. A few seconds later, the scanner confirmed his identity. The metal door slid open and Franco stepped inside.

Scientists and researchers watched him disappear into the hallway beyond. They made no move to stop or follow him.

Franco walked down the stark, white hallway that led to another gray door. But this door was made only of wood.

The open door revealed an ordinary waiting area, anti-climactic in its simplicity. There was a table in the middle of the moderately-sized square room. Behind that table sat a slight man in his 60’s, wearing glasses and appearing to be engrossed in a romance novel with the image of scantily-clad lovers wrapped around each other on the covers.

“Harry.” Franco greeted the old man quietly.

Harry looked up at Franco, blinking owlishly behind his glasses, “Franco? What are you doing here?”

“You haven’t heard?”

”Heard what? Did something happen? You know nobody comes down here just to chat with me.”

Franco shoved his hands in his pockets to conceal their tremor, “The Council and Angel attacked us tonight, Harry. They took Tierre with them.”

Harry scrambled to get up from his seat. He fumbled with his paperback and his glasses before he managed to walk around his table and towards his guest, “If you didn’t tell me yourself, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“I know. I’m still trying to come to grips with it.” Franco took a deep breath and then said, “I would like to see them, please.”

Harry faced the small wall space beside the door. Instead of a retinal scan, a biometric or a breath analyzer, the room beyond had only one key: Harry.

Or, more specifically, what Harry was made of.

The old man placed his palm flat against the wall. Before his guest, Harry’s hand transformed into smoke that went through the layer of concrete. Whatever mechanism was hidden inside the walk identified the old man correctly and the metal door slid open to let him in.

Inside was the chamber that held the reasons why the organization of Scarlet was created. The treasures that Franco collected were secreted away in here after intense study. Some of them were used on a regular basis, others had never been touched again after they had passed muster. Several of them came from worlds unheard of. Each and every one possessed powers that even the brilliant minds in Franco’s employ could only guess at.

The treasures were contained in separate liquid glass casings that created a labyrinth across the spacious chamber. There were ancient manuscripts, ageless weapons, even decaying body parts like the yellow-green eyes of the monstrous Verdot — a monster that reigned in terror in the Celtic Isles when the mists hid nightmares.

But the real treasures were grouped together, sealed in a huge, cylindrical crystal vault. These treasures were detailed in Franco’s Scroll as the objects he had to collect in order to bring about the Prophecy. The Scroll, of course, had to be near Franco at all times, which was why he had it in his library.

Franco gazed quietly upon the treasures that for so long have been the driving forces of his life, and, for the first time, wondered, Is it worth it?

He had made mistakes in his life, as men were wont to do. But his mistakes had come close to shattering the souls of those he loved most. Franco stared at his reflection upon one glass casing, and saw Ivo and Maria. They were his children…never mind that their origins did not mingle with his. No one who had witnessed his love for them would have questioned his paternity.

Ivo was perfect, in every single way. Franco was biased, perhaps, but even if Ivo wasn’t perfect, he came as close to perfect as any human being ever had. What father wouldn’t have wanted him for a son?

I’ll find you. I swear, my boy, I’ll find you. Even if have to destroy this earth to do it.

And Maria…his princess. His little girl. Always his little girl. To the outside world, she had been perfect, like her brother. To their enemies, she had been Lady Death. To their people, she had been cold and unfeeling. She had opened up only to her family, and even to Franco and Ivo, she had been a mystery.

But not to Tierre.

No one had seen it coming. Who would have known they would love each other? Maria had shown no outward signs, and she must have taught Tierre how to hide his feelings, as well. It had been a reasonable precaution. Having grown up in Hades, Maria knew that their enemies would target anyone they perceived to be a weakness. She had protected Tierre as best as she could.

In the end, she gave up her life for him. The bullet that shattered her heart had barely missed his. But Tierre had survived.

Well, most of him.

If I hadn’t tried to separate the two of them, they wouldn’t have run away from us. They wouldn’t have been unprotected. Franco had only been acting out of a father’s desperate need to safeguard all of his children. Individually, Tierre and Maria were strong. Together, they had been reckless, too emotional to think clearly. But he should’ve known better. He knew from experience how intense first love can be. And he deliberately got in the way of it.

His greatest mistake, and oh, how he paid for it.

But he still had Tierre. Unbelievably enough, Tierre had forgiven him and had allowed Franco back into his life. It was all for Tierre now. All of his sacrifices, his dreams…only for Tierre.

His perfect children had deserved a perfect world, and this world had failed them. Franco wouldn’t mind replacing it with a new one.

He still had Tierre, and Tierre was worth it. Tierre was worth everything.


TBC





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