The Binary Alchemist (binaryalchemist) wrote in fm_alchemist,
The Binary Alchemist
binaryalchemist
fm_alchemist

HALF LIVES 3: OUR LIVES, CH 28: "BE OUR GUESTS"

HALF LIVES 3: OUR LIVES, CHAPTER 28 “BE OUR GUESTS”
By binaryalchemist
Rating: This chapter rated R for NSFW mature content
Pairing: Roy/Ed, Havoc/Hawkeye, onesided Riza/Roy, unrequited Al/Winry, past Al/Julia Crichton and Winry’s remarriage
Spoilers and Warnings: Post-Manga verse, Star of Milos, the FMA Novels and Prince of the Dawn game, FMA  OVA’s . Yaoi romance/angst/humor
Plot:  Roy and Ed have been together for 15 years now—Roy prepares to fulfill his 520-cenz promise to make Amestris a democracy, but just before Roy’s 50th birthday and his wedding to Edward a tell-all biography about Mustang is published  that sets the country on its ear---because the ‘truth’ about the Promised Day is about to come out, with Roy miscast as the evil genius behind it all…
SUMMARY: Roy Mustang, master manipulator, is pulling out all the stops to ensure that his unauthorized biographer has a ‘memorable’ weekend at his estate—and to make the weekend merrier, he’s invited the subject of her LAST unauthorized biography…Meanwhile the past comes back to haunt Selim Bradley, and Ed begins to wonder if he and Al are taking after Hohenheim in the one way they wanted to avoid…
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Feedback greatly appreciated---“Half Lives”, “Whole Lives” and other fics hosted at fanfiction.net at http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1651220/BinaryTales   and also at  my new host  at AO3 Thanks so much for your comments!!!

OUR LIVES, CHAPTER 28: BE OUR GUESTS

By The Binary Alchemist 2013

(earlier that day….)

           “Fuck me,” Maes whispered, “I can see the top of my desk!”

           “First time in years, I imagine,” Collins quipped dryly. He ran a pristine white glove over Maes’ workbench and inspected the fingertips. “Absolutely spotless. I concede to your occasional brilliance. Giving Selim a job tidying up your lab was a worthy gamble. He’s doing a splendid job.”

The young butler had cringed inwardly when Maes suggested that the older man work a few days in the lab assisting the young inventor by cleaning up and getting the workbench tools in order. Maes brightly observed that it would be good to get Selim out of the sheltered world of the Bradley estate and Maes would pay him a fair wage just to get some of the mad clutter under control. Maes had proved to be right, and indeed Selim seemed to show signs of improved memory and emotional stability, glowing with pride as he came to work each morning on the bicycle the young Elric had given him. Of course, Collins realized, it also meant that he and Maes would see a great deal more of each other now, since Collins escorted Selim to and from work on his own bike, which Maes had built for him years ago.

Selim emerged from the storage closet bearing an armload of small leather cases. “I’ve found them, Maes! They were buried under a pile of magazines that had pictures of naked men—“

“—fitness magazines,” Maes cut Selim off quickly, scooping up the cases and laying them out on his desk. “They belong to my sister, for her drawing classes. Right! Now, I know I’ve got a box of film somewh—oh, thanks, Selim! Okay, I’m gonna show you how to load film into a camera.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah.”

“Are these for taking pictures of naked men like the ones I found in the box with the cameras--”

“Maes won’t be taking any naked pictures.” Collins shot Maes a sour look. “Not any time soon. If ever.”   

           Maes didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. “No, I need to take these up to Rose Hill before noon. Pops says he’s having guests for the weekend…although what the hell he needs with a dozen and a half cameras and movie cameras, I haven’t got a clue—“

           From somewhere inside the closet, the trio heard the sound of glass smashing. “What the--?” Maes jumped out of his chair and dashed into the closet.

           “I’ll get the broom and dustpan,” Selim offered. “Did something fall off the shelf because I moved things around?”

“Don’t sweat it, Selim,” Maes called over his shoulder.” I had stuff shoved in there every which way. It’s my own damn fault…aw, fuck it all! The goddamn negatives!!! Nitwit’s gonna strangle me!”

           “What negatives?” Collins asked.

           “Ah, a bunch of glass negatives somebody reused to make the old greenhouse at Rose Hill. ” Cutting himself on a broken shard, he growled under his breath, sucking on his bleeding finger, nodding for Selim to sweep away the mess and carry it out to the trash. “Some of them had visible images—“

           “Pictures on glass?” Selim looked curious.

           “Yeah, real old-timey. They didn’t use film. They put a glass sheet covered with chemicals in a box camera and then exposed it to light, and---damn, Davy! Get me a bandage, This thing is bleeding like crazy!”

           It took a few moments for the thoughts ‘glass negatives from the greenhouse” and ‘Selim Bradley’ to sink in and register. When they did, the color drained out of Maes Elric’s face. “Ohhh fuck!”

           Bounding past his lover, Maes raced out to the trash can behind the little laboratory. He saw Selim Bradley holding up a cracked glass negative to the sky and peering in wonder at what seemed to be his own face smiling back at him from the previous century….

###

           Roy had changed his mind about the sandwiches. Instead, he rang for Sebastian. “Send these out to the men with my compliments,” he ordered, retrieving the bucket of beer bottles and, strangely, a small crock of butter. “See if Ramsay will bring us a couple of steaks.”

           “Very good sir!” Behind the curtain, Kelley Winchell felt an angry rumble in her stomach. Snitching a sandwich from a loaded platter would go unnoticed. Swiping a sirloin off the President’s own plate would be damn near impossible. “Not the cookies too?” she mouthed in silent protest, as if her will alone could stop the butler from wheeling the fresh baked treats away. She was ravenous after all that rabbit food Sebastian had brought her, and between her growling stomach and her complaining bladder she was in a foul mood indeed.

           It would take a little while for the steaks to be ready, the butler informed them. “No big deal,” Elric answered cheerfully. “I guess we can find something to occupy ourselves with. Ring when you’re on the way, okay?”

           And that’s when they put down their reading material and started…occupying themselves.

           The President pulled the elastic from his lover’s heavy blond mane, yanked off Edward’s tie, and bit the younger man on the neck. It did some very strange things to Kelley Winchell’s blood pressure. Mustang murmured something—probably obscene—into Elric’s ear. He was rewarded with a growl. “SHIT! That’s…fucking unbelievable!”

           A scarred hand slid inside the front of Elric’s shirt and Mustang began running the tip of his tongue around the rim of his lover’s ear. Whatever he was doing with his hand was making Elric squirm. ”Yeah…whatever you want to do…” What the hell was he doing? Did homosexuals play with each other’s nipples? Did men actually like that?

           “You’re not going anywhere.” Kelley began to sweat. She had no idea what was going on under Edward Elric’s shirt but it was making the professor struggle and turn red in the face. Underneath her silk crepe blouse, her rubberized Shapely Girl body slimmer and the padded cup of her brassiere, there was a sympathetic reaction at the thought of this virile, elegant man purring in his lover’s ear and stroking his body in such a commanding manner. That reaction was interrupted by another pang from her bladder. Damn, she thought anxiously, if they don’t leave before I get to the lavatory, my eyes will be as yellow as that Fullmetal Sonovabitch.

           A loud roar of protest from her stomach. The men froze, then relaxed. Mustang chuckled. “Guess you’re not the only thing that’s got me hungry.”

           Golden eyes gleamed. “Oh yeah? Then eat me.”

           “Mmmmm…that might be an excellent suggestion….” Mustang pounced on his man and Kelley Winchell gnawed the last smears of lipstick off in pain and frustration….crossing her legs and praying for strength.

###

           “I’m stuck on the word puzzle. Check this, will you?” Roy had passed the Central Times over to Ed. Ed had given him a odd look. Mustang never needed help with word puzzles. He had glanced at the page and saw a message scribbled in Roy’s neat penmanship:

           . FOLLOW MY LEAD—AND SHUT UP.

           Before Ed could argue, Roy had taken the paper from him, tossed aside and pulled the tie out of Ed’s hair. Something in his lover’s eyes warned him that something wasn’t right but to play along. He had been about to ask where the hell security was when Mustang nipped his neck, licked his ear and whispered that Kelley Winchell was hiding behind the curtains. Ed was so furious he nearly shot off the couch. “SHIT! That’s…fucking unbelievable!”

           The tongue stabbed into his ear, which under normal circumstances would make him hard as a rock. “You’re not going anywhere.” Roy sucked on his earlobe and pulled him closer. “I figured she would try something stupid. Let me handle this.”

           Fingertips strummed against his nipples. “Yeah…whatever you wanna do…”

###

           Mustang’s hand moved to his lover’s thigh. Then he lifted his face and smiled at the curtain. “The lavatory’s right behind us, Maud.” He gestured without looking to a closed door.

           If her legs hadn’t been crossed she would have peed herself. She didn’t move. “Please help yourself,” he added. “I’ve just had the carpets cleaned.”

           Mustering as much dignity as she could manage, Kelley Winchell stepped out from behind the green brocade curtains and walked past the lovers without a word, heading straight for the lavatory, closing the door firmly behind her.

           Ed swiveled around, staring at Roy in amazement. “How the hell did you know she had to take a piss?”

           Roy looked smug. “That salad that came with her dinner had lots of fresh dandelion greens. There was parsley and saffron on the chicken she ate. All natural diuretics. And of course, there was a full pot of coffee in her suite.”

           “Cunning bastard. I’m honestly impressed.”

           A familiar smirk played around the President’s lips. “It’s going to be a very, very long weekend for Miss Kelley Winchell….”

###

           A telephone. “What the hell??”

           The President of Amestris had a telephone installed on the wall beside the toilet, right within arm’s reach. Why in blazes would the leader of the country want to talk to someone while perched on the commode---unless it was one of those sick homo things. Her earlier titillation vanished and she felt faintly queasy.

           It took a bit of a struggle but she managed to tug her girdle down in the nick of time before she burst. She was sweating and her hands were shaking. That damn Roy Mustang! How long did he know I was hiding in there? Could he arrest me for being in there? No—I’ll tell him I got lost and scared. I’ll…hmmm…maybe if I cry…?

           Curiosity got the better of her. After all, aside from the out-of-bounds upstairs bedroom, you couldn’t get much more private than the Presidential bathroom, now, could you?

           There was a stack of well-worn magazines, she noticed, and grabbed them out of the brass basket on the floor near her feet, expecting to find masturbatory literature, but the only pictures of cocks in the pile were hanging off stallions—they were old copies of Horsebreeder’s Journal.

           Rearranging her clothing, Kelley pulled the flush chain and looked around. There were some toiletries on the shelf above the sink: razor, shaving mug, a boar-bristle shaving brush. A small carafe of some cinnamony mouthwash and a matching cup to rinse with. A toothbrush that needed replacing. A small bottle with a hand inked label from a well-known toiletries shop. She pulled the stopper and sniffed and decided that, while Mustang might be morally bankrupt, at least he smelled good.

Directly in front of the toilet, to the right of the shower stall was a closet. She jiggled the handle. It opened noiselessly. She shivered at the thought of what might be hidden inside.

           Seems the only thing Roy Mustang had in the closet were his spare clothes. A dress uniform and a formal dark suit, both carefully zipped into garment bags. A change of casual clothes, plain but of the very best fabrics. A riding jacket and breeches. High military boots, dress shoes, loafers and riding boots, all polished to perfection. All of Sherman Lehrer’s jokes about Mustang’s closet in songs like “Hold My Purse While I Save The World” were nothing more than crude humor.

           And then she saw the whip….no, just a riding crop, and while he may have used it on the bare buttocks of Edward Elric, it was equally as likely that he used it for its avowed purpose. Besides, Edward was just damn mean enough that if Mustang tried to whip him Edward would probably break it over Mustang’s head.

           Disappointed, she was about to shut the closet quietly when she noticed a small door hidden in the back of the closet, bearing a small sign that said “Staff Only”. With a man with Mustang’s particularly leering turn of mind, ‘staff’ could definitely mean more than one thing. Rumors had it that the President’s butler made frequent trips to a certain Spenser’s Emporium, a private shop catering to the intimate needs of discriminating citizens. It was a dildo shop, but one with classical music, imported carpets, antique display cabinets and rubber thingamajigs that were rumored to be so realistic ladies were tempted to put condoms on them, fearing they might get pregnant from the damned things. And it was known that Mustang and Elric were often apart for months on end every year. That secret door probably concealed an unholy assortment of things that buzzed and squirmed and who knew what else. Why, if the President had a secret stash of perverse playthings….

           She couldn’t resist. She gently eased the door open, not making a sound.

           Something went “click!”

          
     BRRRRRINNNNGGGGGGGGGG!

        “GAHHH!!” She jumped a foot and clutched at her heart, and If she hadn’t just emptied her bladder she’d have pissed herself.

           The phone beside the toilet continued to ring.

           A voice from the other side of the door called out, “Would you get that, Maud?”

           Trembling, she snatched the receiver off the wall. “H…hel…hello??”

           “Ah. Miss Winchell.” That cool, unflappable voice of the son of a bitch who had wheeled away all the sandwiches. “While you’re snooping through the supply cupboard, do check to see if there’s enough paper in there, would you? His Excellency never informs me until he’s almost out…”

###

           Emerging with as much poise as possible, she found Mustang and Elric tearing into a couple of rare sirloins. The aroma was tantalizing and her stomach clamored loudly for a bite. “Ah. Maud. Was that Sebastian nagging about the toilet paper again? Sorry. He does that. Hope you don’t mind—we’re having our supper late.”

           “Yeah, it’s all the bad stuff---steak, baked potatoes with sour cream and bacon—“

           “—and butter. Lots of butter,” Mustang added with peculiar emphasis.

           “And a typical dessert from hell with about five million calories and enough chocolate to kill ya,” Ed finished. “But, you know, we respect you too much to make you eat all this shit. Elycia says you’re on a really strict diet and all—“

           “—so we thought we’d make this a spa weekend for your enjoyment,” Mustang concluded. “So let me introduce you to our other house guests this weekend.”

           The door to the Presidential Office burst open. There was a flash of pink sparkles and the figures that stood in the doorway blocked out the light from the hall.

           “GENERAL MUSTANG! SO WE MEET AGAIN! MY JOY AT THIS REUNION CAUSES MY MAGNIFICENT MUSCLES TO RIPPLE WITH UNRESTRAINED HAPPINESS!”

           Edward grinned. “Long time no see, Alex.”

           Mustang beamed at Kelley. “Meet the director of the President’s Council on Physical Fitness, Alex Louis Armstrong.”

           Something that looked like a mountain in a dress grunted beside Alex. Roy rose and bowed in its direction. “And this is his older sister Strongine Armstrong. She is the director of the Briggs Mountain Sanatorium—one of the leading proponents of health reform in the nation. When Alex told her you would be our guest this weekend, she was determined to come down and share the benefits of ‘biologic living’ with you.”

           “INDEED! WHY, MY SISTER IS AN ANGEL OF WELLNESS!” Alex boomed cheerily. “BIOLOGIC LIVING IS BRILLIANT COMPOSITE PHYSIOLOGIC METHOD WHICH INCLUDES HYDROTHERAPY, ELECTROTHERAPY, MASSAGE, PHYSICAL CULTURE, COLD AIR CURES—“

           “Bowels,” Strongine grunted. “Purification of the bowels of all toxins—“

           “---VEGETARIANISM AND HEALTH EDUCATION!” He dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief the size of a pillow case. “HER GLORIOUS COMPASSION MAKES ME WEEP!”

           The mountain in the dress lumbered over, dwarfing the author. “People pay thousands of cens to spend a weekend at ‘The ‘San’, as they call it,” Roy told her. “Why, by the time Alex Armstrong’s sister is done with you, you’ll be a different woman altogether!”

           Strongine stared at Kelley for a long, silent moment. Then she lifted the author, slung her over one massive shoulder and carried Kelley away.

           Roy cracked open a beer for each of them. “I take it your father wasn’t amused by Muscle Men And Madwomen, eh?”

           “Neither was my mother or Strongine or Amue. It made my little sister Catherine cry.”

           “And the Major General?”

           “Something about sending her to General Raven, along with your old valet, Claude.”

           “She has enough bodies under concrete in that bunker of hers,” Roy touched his beer bottle to his old comrade’s. “This is better. Kill her with kindness.”

           And yogurt enemas,” Ed added. “You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard about those Northern health retreats. They go nuts over the nozzles up your ass and high fiber, and---“

           Roy couldn’t believe his ears. “Strongine doesn’t really do that sort of thing at The San,, does she, Alex?”

           Ed lifted his eyebrows at the President. “A hundred cens says she will.”

           “Well…probably not. But” he added hopefully “Miss Winchell doesn’t know that, does she?”

          

###

           “Mmmm. Nice out here tonight.” Ed stretched his arms above his head until his back popped and then bent down to examine a half-budded branch on a rare azalea bush from Xing. “Think the screams have died down yet?”

           “Depends on how thorough that ‘deep tissue massage’ is. I let Alex talk me into one of Strongine’s therapeutic massage treatments right after you left last time and I swear at one point I felt her knuckles go straight through my back and out through my spleen.”

           Ed snorted with laughter and the two of the strolled out into the mist of the early spring night. Their security guards observed from a discreet distance, knowing by the President’s demeanor that he intended to have some private time with his fiancée. “So? What’s on your mind?”            There was no use denying it. They had been together too long to successfully hide anything for long from one another. “It’s not that idiot in the helmet hair getting tied into a knot by Armstrong’s sister. And don’t tell me that asshole Samuelson’s got you on the ropes. I don’t fucking believe that.”

           Roy strolled over to an ancient, spreading oak tree, one that was barely an acorn when Xerxes fell and Amestris was born. His fingers explored the craggy bark, crumbling bits of spicy scented moss. “I’m fifty years old, Ed.”

           “And?”

\           “I know the date on my birth certificate and it doesn’t coincide with my face or my body, does it? Hell, I know men in their thirties and forties who talk about losing their drive, getting older, putting on weight….I don’t know…I can run the obstacle course without stopping for breath. I can outpace men half my age on the running track.” He held out his arms. “We’ve been together for fifteen years, Ed. We should have mellowed. We should have settled down. Instead, I can barely keep my hands off you. It’s hell when you’re gone, and when you come back I want to eat you alive and nail you to the mattress. I…I don’t know how to explain it.” His arms closed around his lover’s hips, pulling him close. “Believe me, I’m not complaining.”

           “Neither am I.” Ed’s arms snaked around Roy’s waist, pressing their groins together. “Feel that? I could pound tent stakes with that thing. I go off on the road and something trips my triggers and I start thinking about you and I end up spraining my wrists and humping the pillows every damn night. I get home and…it’s….damn. You know?”

           “Yeah.” Cheek to cheek, Roy pulled the wings of his black overcoat around them both. Edward unwound the knitted scarf from around his neck and retied it so it encircled them both. “Al’s discreet but he’s got the same thing going, only he’s making himself crazy over two women while he’s got a half-dozen others in his bed and a hundred more chasing him.”

           “Izumi?”

           “Geez, like I want to know about Teacher’s sex life? I don’t wanna know and she’d kill me if I asked. And maybe she’s dyeing her hair, but she hasn’t slowed down one damn bit since---“

           “—that day. The Promised Day.” Roy sighed deeply and rested his forehead against Ed’s. “Your dad was a sacrifice the first time, in Xerxes. That was—what—1464?”

           Ed was silent for a long time. “Yeah,” he sighed at last. “I didn’t want to think about this shit for a long time. But, I mean, he didn’t age. I was sixteen. Me and Al matured like normal, you know? And you have a couple of grey hairs—probably not more than a dozen, but I can see ‘em. Little changes around the corners of your eyes. I’m not sayin’ we’re…you know, like Dad…but we got something.”

           “Yeah. Think so.” Roy’s face was unreadable in the faint moonlight. “You okay with this?”

           “We got a choice?”

           “Not really, no.”

           “Then when the time comes, we tell the kids. And if it gets hard to hide and we aren’t aging fast enough, we move on. You, me, Al….Teacher if she wants to go with us.” His lips grazed Roy’s chin. “We still don’t know much about the other side of the ocean. A lot I haven’t seen—not even Al has seen it all. We might not have anything going on other than some kind of boost we got from being sacrifices. It might just be coincidence. I honestly don’t know how much time we have. So let’s make it count, okay?”

           Roy grinned in the shadows. “Why do you think I’m marrying you?”  

           “All the presents, asshole!” Ed punched him lightly on the shoulder. “’Cause you hope Winry will give us a new toaster.” A strong hand toyed with Roy’s zipper. “How much privacy we got?”

           Roy clapped his hands. There was a muted crimson flash and the folds of Roy’s coat encircled Ed completely. “Some, but not much.”

           “Enough.” Buttons slipped out of buttonholes. Zippers slid down and clothing was arranged out of the way. “This could get messy,” Ed warned.

           “No big deal. I can clean us up with alchemy.”

           “Thanks but no thanks. I don’t wanna risk losing my dick just because you’re too cheap to pay for dry cleaning.”

           A snort of laughter. “You’re no fun.”

           Something hard and welcome pressed against him. “Wanna bet?”

           It was lazy and slow, rubbing against one another, pressed together as they stood in the mist, wrapped in the folds of Roy’s overcoat. Havoc would have called it ‘dry humping’ but after a few minutes there was nothing dry about it. They were grinning at each other, biting back groans, not wanting to draw any more attention from the security detail than needed. If Kelley Winchell had been able to stagger to her window she would have seen the President and his lover wrapped in a close embrace, kissing voraciously. Had they been able to make it to the barn they would have hurried up the ladder to the hayloft and Edward would have cheerfully offered himself over a stack of hay bales, growling out a challenge to see which of them would outlast the other.

           But there had been things that needed to be said—things that they had both privately brooded over for years. The words had come out without pain, and Edward had not shouted or laughed in denial. Truth was flowing between them. There was simply no need to hide anything anymore and it felt damn good—as good as this clasping of bodies under a pale Equinox moon when everything was fresh and life tasted rich and sweet, like honey on the tongue.

           A hand squeezed. Roy bucked into it, reaching down to lace his fingers with Edward’s, bringing their cocks together, the swollen flesh generously slicked by those pearly drops of arousal that normally Ed would be eager to catch on his tongue. Edward bit down hard on Roy’s bare chest and shivered, a low keen rising in his throat. “Shhhhh….” Roy’s own breaths were so ragged that he was certain that once Ed’s grip and the heat and smell of him pushed Roy beyond the point of return he would be hard pressed not to fling back his head and howl at the moon like a madman.

           Panting furiously, Ed’s pace became frantic, losing control as the fingers of Roy’s other hand slipped around and down and in in in gloriously in oh god HARDER yes. The fingers scissored and stroked , bending Ed’s body so he could reach just the right spot that made his pulse hammer in his ears, wetting his lover’s belly and chest. A moment later Edward dropped to his knees in the damp grass and swallowed and swallowed and GOD he was hitting the back of his lover’s throat and Edward was sucking hard, pulling in every drop.

          

           Roy curled up against Ed’s back, nuzzling the nape of his neck. Their clothing was stuffed in the hamper and they were freshly showered and curled up under a quilt that Elycia had made them two Solstices ago.

           “Did you hear that?”

           “What?”

           “Somebody’s sneaking around in the hall.” Sure enough there was the tell-tale squeak of a loose floorboard Roy refused to have repaired, calling it the Early Warning Signal.

           Roy reached for the bedroom phone and spoke very quietly. “Sebastian. I believe our guest is having a difficult time getting to sleep tonight. Please ring Miss Armstrong to assist. The last thing we want is for Miss Winchell to think we are not concerned for her health and well-being.”

           Roy clapped his hand over Ed’s mouth, stifling his own chuckles. The acoustics were perfect. Every cautious step in the hall echoed loud and clear.

           So did the booming voice of Strongine Armstrong.

           “ MISS WINCHELL. AS I INFORMED YOU EARLIER THIS EVENING, INSOMNIA,” she pronounced, “IS PROOF POSITIVE OF AUTO-INTOXICATION FROM STIMULANTS SUCH AS COFFEE AND ALCOHOL. ONCE THE LOWER INTESTINE IS PURGED OF THESE TOXINS, A PERSON WILL SLEEP AS PEACEFULLY AS A CHILD IN THE ROSY GLOW OF BIOLOGICAL HEALTH!”

           “What the hell—get away from me!”

           “ALEX! GO DOWN TO THE KITCHEN AND GET ME TWO QUARTS OF FRESH YOGURT!”

           “What??!? I can’t eat two quarts of yogurt?”

           Ed poked Roy in the ribs. “I didn’t hear any mention of her actually eating two quarts of yogurt, did you?”

           “Well…no…”

           “Pay up, you jerk!”

…TO BE CONTINUED…..           

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