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Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
 
 
 

After Midnight - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Neurotic Temptress
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 16

“Chère?” Remy called through the closed door.

A few moments later, when he received no response, he twisted the knob and felt the latch release. Silently, he slipped into her amply spaced bedroom in her family’s New York home. Now where is dat girl? he thought as he surveyed the empty room.

Both he and Rogue, as well as their respective security teams, had flown up from the Big Easy to the Big Apple earlier that day. They were only in town for a few hours, with the intention of attending an awards show in Manhattan, before returning to their home in New Orleans.

Remy smirked at the thought of ‘their’ home. Rogue had been living in the LeBeau residence for the past three weeks, taking to the estate as if she had been roaming through it her entire life. Within the span of two days, she was able to memorize the layout of the main house, as well as the numerous guesthouses and other structures that littered the grounds. At the time, he had teased her about how her observation skills were almost good enough to become a fledgling thief.

Although it had still officially been his downtime, Remy found himself working on the new material for his next album. It would have been hard not to, what with Rogue constantly scribbling away, trying to jot down the songs running through her head. They had spent more than one afternoon sprawled out on a blanket underneath the Louisiana sky, playing around with one idea after another.

Thankfully, in the time that she had been living with him, there’d been no further letters or phone calls from the man stalking her. It would have been blissful to believe that he’d simply dropped out of existence, but that would have been too presumptuous of them. On the rare occasion when she would leave the estate grounds, she was always accompanied by Remy and at least two bodyguards. Any other arrangement and Logan would forbid her to leave the house.

Emerging unsuccessfully from his search of the adjacent bathroom, Remy contemplated on her possible whereabouts. He had left her in the room a little over an hour before, giving her time to prepare for the night’s ceremony. Since there were no traces of either the hair and make-up artist or the stylist, he had to assume that Rogue was now fully dressed and ready to leave. The only challenge left at the moment was actually finding her.

A slight breeze rustled the locks of his hair. Turning, he noticed the open balcony doors and the billowing drapes that framed the entryway. With a quiet smile, he headed in that direction. No doubt she was out there admiring the fantastic sight of the city’s skyline. As he got a better view of the doorway and the area beyond it, he felt his stomach drop to his feet. The balcony was empty, devoid of any person, and the doors that lead to Rogue’s bedroom had been left wide-open.

Dieu, no! he thought in desperation. Dere’s no way dat bastard could have gotten inta here! Merde! I shouldn’ have let her outta m’sight even f’r a sec--

“You okay, sugah? You look like yoah jus’ about ta have a coronary.”

Remy whirled around at the sound of her voice. She was standing in a far corner to his left, half hidden in the shadows of the fading twilight. His pounding heart, just settling down with the relief of finding her safe, began a mad dance once again as he took in her appearance. She was clad in a pristine-white pantsuit, pinstriped with almost unperceivable lines of pale jade. What little light remained from the heavens glistened off the skin exposed by the suit’s deep neckline. Her luscious auburn and white curls had been swept up into a simple chignon at the base of her neck. If it were at all possible, she was becoming more and more beautiful each time that he saw her.

She shifted her weight, somewhat uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze. “Ya don’ like it, do ya, Remy?” she asked apprehensively. “Ah would’ve worn somethin’ a bit more ladylike an’ fancy fo’ t’night, but Ah needed th’ pockets. Logan won’t let me out o’ th’ house ‘less Ah take mah cell phone with me.” To prove her point, she extracted the thin, compact device from within her blazer pocket.

“Non, chèrie,” he approached her with a look that was nothing short of awestruck, “you look... incredible.”

Blushing slightly at the compliment and the expression on his face, she whispered, “Thank you.” She smiled when she noticed his attire for the evening. He was dressed in a custom-made suit that hung off the contours of his body flawlessly. The pure black of his dress shirt and tie set off the suit’s deep, rich shade of burgundy. Leave it ta Remy ta take th’ traditional three-piece suit an’ turn it inta somethin’ a li’l more unconventional, she mused as he wrapped his arms about her waist and grinned down at her.

“Speakin’ o’ incredible,” she continued, running her hands along his sleeves. “Are ya tryin’ ta distract me from our evenin’ plans with yoah fine self, suh?”

“I have no idea what ya talkin’ ‘bout, petite,” he replied innocently. “You ready t’go an’ face de sharks an’ other mean fishes o’ de sea?”

“Yeah. You reckon th’ pre-show preparations are ovah already?”

He glanced at his watch before nodding. “Dey should be movin’ ev’rybody inta de venue by now. At least dis year we’ve got an excuse t’dispense wit’ de red carpet media walk.”

“Didn’ look like we had much o’ a choice really, even if we wanted ta walk through that. Logan’s already on edge ‘bout t’night’s show; he would've never let me go if we’d added th’ carpet walk an’ aftah parties ta th’ itinerary.”

Bending, he whispered huskily into her ear, “How ‘bout we f’rget de whole t’ing, chère, an’ have our own li’l ceremony back home?”

She playfully removed herself from his embrace. “Nice try, Cajun, but no dice. Ah know how you don’ like these shows all that much, but we can’t cancel at th’ very last minute.”

“Yeah? Says who?”

“Says me. ‘Sides, yoah up fo’ too many awards t’night ta not show yoah face.”

He scoffed at her statement. “So are you, chère.”

“Well, you don’ see me tryin’ ta weasel mah way out th’ backdoor, now do you?”

Damn. Walked right inta dat one, he realized with a mental chuckle.

“We’ll be out o’ there before ya know it, sugah,” she promised, taking hold of his hand and leading him back into the house.

“Yeah, after three hours o’ sittin’ on m’backside,” he grumbled. Award shows were definitely not his favorite part of the business. They required him to sit quietly for too long a time for his taste. Maybe I c’n sneak in a deck o’ cards an’ get a poker game goin’ wit’ de boys, he thought with a sigh, resigning himself to an evening of unspeakable boredom.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it, sugah?” Rogue smiled up at Remy. “You even walked away three statues heavier.”

He grinned in return. “Ya didn’ do so bad yaself, chère. Looks like ya gon’ haveta clear out some space on ya trophy shelf.”

The couple was completely encircled by an amalgamation of their security teams, slowly making their way through the theatre where the awards show had just concluded.

Logan turned to face them. “We’re meetin’ Sam at the back entrance,” he explained as the group entered the venue’s innermost corridors. “Front’s too crowded with all the media yo-yo’s out there.”

“How ev’ryone manages ta leave one o’ these things at all is beyond me,” Rogue mumbled to Remy.

“’Sactly m’point, belle. Dat’s why we shouldn’ even bother wit’ goin’ in de first place,” he quipped in return.

“Rogue,” Karen said from beside her. When her assistant had her attention, she subtly indicated a circle of people standing a few feet ahead of them. In the center of the group, Rogue caught sight of a familiar face.

“Logan, hold up a sec; Ah wanna say hello ta Charles.”

“Darlin’, I don’ think -- ”

“Two seconds,” she promised, already knowing the argument he was about to put up. She knew that Logan was worried about the tightness of security at the moment, and she also knew that she wasn’t being much help in that department. But there were certain things that simply could not be done in the music industry. One of which was running into the president of your recording label and not stopping to say hello. “Charles!” she called.

The head of X-Gene Records turned at the sound of his name. Catching sight of two of his most in-demand artists, he smiled and excused himself from the people surrounding him.

“Rogue, Remy,” he acknowledged as their bodyguards broke their formation to let him pass. By way of greeting, he kissed Rogue on the cheek and then proceeded to shake Remy’s hand. “Congratulations, you two. You did very well for yourselves tonight. Needless to say, I am proud of you both.” He smiled warmly.

“Merci, m’sieu.”

“Are you two on your way out?” continued Charles. At their nod, he added, “May I walk with you? I don’t particularly look forward to the media frenzies that accompany these events.”

“They’re houndin’ you too?” Rogue inquired as they resumed their trek to the back exits.

“Unfortunately, they go after anyone who they feel has any kind of information to feed their stories,” Charles pointed out. He turned from their conversation when one of his bodyguards called his attention.

“Sir, the limo is waiting in the designated area. Gregory notes that there’s a small group of media personnel in the vicinity as well,” the man reported.

“Thank you, Marcus.” Charles redirected his focus back to Remy and Rogue. “It seems we won’t be getting away so easily tonight.”

Remy grinned wryly. “When have we ever, mon ami?”

“Got a point there, sugah,” added Rogue as they came to a stop just before the door that would lead them outside.

“You ready?” Logan called out.

“Let’s jus’ get outta here, Logan. Ah’m itchin’ ta get back home.”

“Right, darlin’. You stay close ta us, you hear me? Let’s go.”

With nods of acknowledgement, both Hank and Vic pushed open the exterior doors and began to move the group out into the cool night air. As soon as the media caught sight of the entourage, they immediately descended upon them like a swarm of locust. Rogue felt both Remy and Karen, who were positioned on either side of her, press even closer toward her as the crowd lunged forward.

“Marcus!” Charles called from in front of her. Yelling was the only possible way of being heard over the din made by the sea of people. “Is this your idea of a ‘small group’?”

If Marcus had even bothered to offer a reply, it was lost in the noise and the constant shoving of bodies against one another. Maneuvering through the mob was next to impossible. When one person was pushed out of the way, another would just as quickly take his place, proving that the risk of bodily injury was simply part of a reporter’s job description. The best they could hope for was a slow but somewhat steady path toward their waiting vehicles; a task that proved easier said than done.

This is not good, Rogue thought after what seemed like hours, trapped in the center of a storm. It’s like trudgin’ through a bowl o’ molasses!

Through her frustration and the shouted questions of the press, she felt Remy’s hand tighten on her own. She lifted her gaze to his and, without needing to exchange words, understood the look in his eyes. He was trying to reassure her that everything would be all right, that the situation would soon be over, and they’d be on their way back to New Orleans in no time.

Grateful for his simple gesture, she returned it with a gentle squeeze of her own, and then refocused her attention on making her way through the multitude of people surrounding them.

They only had a few more feet left to go when she suddenly heard Logan curse from beside Remy. His hand was covering the transmitter in his ear and he looked as if he wanted to inflict pain on someone. At her questioning expression, he explained, “Sam’s stuck a few cars down. Some jack-wipe is blockin’ the street an’ he can’t get any closer.”

“So now what?” she asked. The newly found calm that Remy had induced was beginning to waver. “We gonna turn ‘round an’ head back inta th’ buildin’?”

“An’ go t’rough all dis again, chère? I don’ t’ink so,” Remy put in.

“Cajun’s right, kid. Keep movin’ forward. Hopefully by the time we get up front, Sam’ll be up there too. If not, we’re doin’ a few more feet o’ walkin’.”

“If Ah didn’ love this job so much Ah’d swear that it was gettin’ more an’ more like a circus ev’ryday,” Rogue muttered under her breath as she did what Logan instructed.

From behind them, they heard the high-pitched shrieking of a woman’s voice. “Remy! Remy!”

Rogue found her lover’s hand being torn away from her grasp as the young woman somehow managed to break in between Peter and Logan, and take a hold of Remy’s arm. The two bodyguards pulled the eager fan away from him and forcefully moved her back into the crowd. Angered at having been brushed aside so easily, the woman redoubled her efforts. This time she pulled out a small can of pepper spray from inside her pocket, directly aiming the substance into Logan’s and Peter’s faces.

With grunts of pain, both men covered their eyes but didn’t fall to the ground. As best they could, they attempted to keep the surging mob from swelling forward and rushing into the void that had been created in the security shell.

“Merde!” Remy exclaimed as he turned to help them. Despite their valiant efforts, the two men stood a very real chance of being trampled by the demanding masses. “Damien! I need ya help, homme!”

“You got it, boss.” The other man was at his side instantly, disarming the woman before coming to their aid. “Hank! Cover my ass, man!” The remaining bodyguards regrouped and formed an even tighter circle around Rogue, Karen and Xavier.

“Sam! Where are ya, kid? We’re dying out here!” Guido yelled into his transmitter. After listening for several moments, he hollered, “Dammit! We don’t have five minutes! Get your Kentucky-fried butt over here!”

Next to her, Rogue heard Karen’s cry of surprise just before she became aware of the hand closing around the lapel of her blazer. Gasping, she felt herself being drawn outward, toward the white-haired man who had caught her. Unnerved by the thought of being dragged into the crowd and separated from the others, she began to blindly struggle against the hold on her.

“Kindly remove your hands from the lady, sir,” Hank growled. She watched in amazement as he grasped the arm that had ensnared her and effortlessly broke its grip. He then brushed the man aside and warned him menacingly, “Attempt that again, my friend, and the next time I won’t let you keep the hand.” Over his shoulder, he called to the other security members, “This is getting dangerous! We need to get them out of here!”

“You cannot possibly wait for your driver to get through this mess,” Charles advised, raising his voice to be heard. He pointed to a sleek, black limo waiting along the curb. “You may use my car.”

Motioning to Vic and Guido, Hank said, “It doesn’t look like we have an alternative.” Slowly, they pushed their way through the last of the media and created a pathway to the awaiting vehicle. Once they reached their destination, Hank pulled open the door and ordered Rogue, “Get in.”

“No,” she replied adamantly. “Not without Remy.”

“Look we don’t have time for this, kid,” barked Guido, guiding both Xavier and Karen into the limo. “You need to get into the damn stretch an’ let us go back for the others!”

“Guido -- ”

“I know, kid,” he cut her off, recognizing the raw emotion that crept into her eyes. He softened his tone before assuring her, “I’ll look after him. I promise.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. “Be careful, y’all,” she cautioned before slipping through the open doorway.

Hank looked to his colleagues. “One of us should go with them.”

“I’ll go,” Vic volunteered, disappearing into the car as well and closing the door behind him. Seconds later, the limo pulled away and was soon navigating down the street.

Guido quirked an eyebrow in Hank’s direction. “Back into the lion’s den?”

“Without a doubt,” the other man countered as they dove back into the ocean of people in search of the straying members of their party.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine, Rogue,” Karen declared confidently for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Sam was only a couple of feet away, and with one less celebrity to fight over, the press would have probably calmed down a bit.”

Not likely, Rogue thought despondently. Aloud, she said, “Thanks, sugah.”

“Are you all right, child?” Charles asked her, concern filling his voice. He was settled next to Remy’s bodyguard on the seat across from both she and Karen. “Were you injured when that man grabbed you?”

She was abruptly reminded of the frightening feeling of being hauled forward against her will. The memory caused an involuntary shudder to crawl up her spine. She’d caught an unwanted glimpse of the man’s eyes. The cold, ice-blue orbs had stared at her with an expression that had appeared soulless and hollow. A look that made her unconsciously think of her father’s eyes, maddened and wielding a butcher knife so many years ago.

Despite her misgivings, she answered, “No, Charles, Ah’m fine. Thanks.” She didn’t want to concern anyone needlessly. They were safely free of the situation, unlike Remy and the rest of the security teams. Her anxieties were best kept worrying about their well-being instead.

“We’ve got a shadow,” Vic suddenly informed them, turning from where he was peering out of the rear windshield.

Karen looked up in surprise. “What?”

“’Bout two cars down,” he continued. “Dark sedan, weavin’ a little inside his lane. He’s been on us for a couple blocks now.”

Rogue searched the street behind them from over the two men’s shoulders. Sure enough she caught sight of a vehicle subtly shifting left and right, trying to find an opening in traffic to advance closer.

“Someone’s following us?” Karen asked anxiously. She craned her neck to see for herself. “Great. Now what?”

“Now we lose them.” Vic opened the channel that would allow him to speak with the limo’s driver.

After the relay of instructions, the vehicle increased slightly in speed and deviated from its original route. All four occupants in the rear of the automobile turned to take note of the ‘shadow’s’ reaction. Sure enough, it surged forward, overtaking the car in front of it and proceeded down the same road as the limo.

Rogue sighed in resignation. “Ah guess it’s safe ta say that he’s got more in mind than a late-night drive. Who’s up fo’ stoppin’ th’ stretch an’ askin’ real nice like what this fool wants?” she commented dryly.

Regardless of her nonchalant demeanor, Rogue was becoming uneasy. She had no proof, but for some reason she was sure that the person driving the sedan was the same white-haired, blue-eyed man from outside the theatre. The thought caused another shudder to go through her. She knew that she could entrust her safety to both Vic and Xavier’s security, but without Logan and Guido’s protection, or even the rest of Remy’s team, she felt vulnerable and somewhat easy prey.

The silent tension that had fallen over all those within the limousine soon became palpable. Every now and then, Vic would order the driver to change directions in an attempt to shake the car behind them. Finally, after thirty minutes of ducking and weaving through the streets of New York, Vic turned to them and said, “I think we’ve lost him.”

In relief, Karen sank further into her seat. “Thank goodness.”

“I wouldn’t celebrate jus’ yet,” Vic told her. “We need a place to rendezvous with the others. We can scratch goin’ back to Rogue’s place. Whoever was followin’ us would probably think we’re headed there.”

“You may stay at my residence while you wait,” offered Charles.

Vic shook his head. “No good either. Even though we don’ know for sure, we’re goin’ to assume that he recognized both you and your car. He might try your place next.”

“What about a hotel?” Rogue suggested.

“Too accessible. Somethin’ more private.”

“Momma’s got some property upstate, but it’ll take hours ta get there.”

After a few moments of contemplative silence, Charles spoke up, “I have an apartment here in the city. We would have to retrace our steps and travel across town, but it’s fairly private. Only a select number of people know about it.”

Vic took his statement under consideration. Eventually he nodded, saying, “That’ll have to do for now.”

“Homme, next time I agree t’come t’one o’ dese award shows, slap me upside de head an’ kick m’Cajun ass back down t’Nawlins,” Remy said to Hank as they slammed the limousine door shut.

It had been a close call but all six men had made it out of the area fairly unscathed. Once Hank and Guido had made it back to them, it’d only been a matter of elbowing their way through the unrelenting crowd. Thankfully, Sam had been waiting at the curb.

“Indubitably,” Hank replied. “You can be certain of that.” He glanced down at Remy’s arm, where several bloody gashes ran from his elbow to his wrist. “We better clean that up before it gets infected.”

Remy nodded as his bodyguard extracted a first aid kit from a side compartment. “Dat femme’s nails should be considered a lethal weapon.”

“Indeed. She was a tad overzealous to get near you.”

Damien snorted from his position across from them. Both he and Guido were tending to their injured colleagues. “You ain’t kiddin’. If Remy asked her to, she probably would’ve stripped naked in front of all those people.” With a sly grin, he added, “I’d pay good money to see that.”

Sam looked over his shoulder from the driver’s seat, “Where’s Rogue?”

“She caught a ride with Xavier,” answered Logan, drawing in a sharp breath as Guido washed the irritant out of his eyes. “Along with Karen an’ Vic.”

“The three of you will need to see a doctor,” Hank lectured as he cleaned Remy’s wounds. “Especially Logan and Peter. Your eyes require proper medical attention. If they go untreated for too long it may cause permanent damage to your corneas.”

“We can pull some strings an’ get a doctor up ta the house later,” Logan dismissed. “Right now I wanna know where Rogue is so we can get her out o’ this city as soon as possible.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a cell phone.

“Dammit, Logan! Keep still, will ya?” demanded Guido as he struggled with his task. “I’m gettin’ more of this stuff on your clothes than in your eye.”

Logan ignored him and proceeded to dial up Rogue’s cell. “Quit yer grippin’, Guido. Ya sound like an ol’ woman.” After several attempts, he slammed his finger into the ‘End’ button and scowled. “I can’t get through. Flamin’ piece o’ junk.”

With his free hand, Remy drew out his own cell and tried to get in touch with Rogue. However, he soon came up with the same results. “She can’ be dat far away, c’n she?”

Logan shook his head. “No. She prob’ly hasn’t turned the thing back on yet. Remember they made us all switch off our phones back at the theatre ‘cause they said the signals would mess up with their radio feeds.”

“So where do we find them?” asked Damien.

Peter spoke up. “It is probable that they would have gone back to the house to meet us there.”

“Petey’s right. That’s the most likely place ta find ‘em,” Logan agreed, before calling out, “Sam, we’re headin’ home.”

“So let me get this straight,” said Rogue as she wandered through the living room of Charles’ apartment, admiring the pleasant ambiance of the area. “You have a house in NYC, plus this apartment, and a mansion in Westchester?”

“And all in one state?” Karen added from her seat on the couch. “Not much for browsing, are you?”

Charles smiled. “The mansion is my family’s home, but yes, the deed is in my name. However, I rarely have the opportunity to go there. The house in the city is where I reside from day to day. This apartment is more of a getaway for me -- a haven, if you will -- whenever the complications of work become overwhelming.”

“Doesn’t yoah office jus’ get in touch with you here whenevah you ain’t around?”

“No doubt they would, if they knew of it. The lease is in someone else’s name.” He walked over to the bar. “May I offer you a drink, ladies?”

“A gin and tonic, please,” Karen requested.

“Rogue?”

She shook her head, settling down next to her assistant. “No, Ah’m fine, thanks.”

Charles soon joined them in the sitting area, handing Karen her drink. He noticed the tension in both their postures. They were practically on the edge of their seats, as if ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Not that he could really fault them; not with the belief that someone was out there, waiting to pounce on them when given the opportunity.

“Everything will be all right,” he attempted to soothe them. “Aside from your bodyguard, there are two of my own security personnel with us. I’m sure they will be more than enough to keep whoever was following us at bay.”

Rogue nodded but still fiddled nervously with the edge of a throw pillow. “Where is Vic?” she asked of Karen.

The other woman took a long, calming swallow of the drink in her hands before answering, “He went to check the perimeter. Then he said he would call Logan and tell him where we are so that we can fly back to New Orleans tonight like we planned.”

Charles regarded them with curiosity. “I thought you lived in your family’s home here in New York,” he remarked.

“Ah do. It’s jus’ that Ah’ve... had reason ta move in with Remy fo’ a li’l while.”

He didn’t press the issue any further. Rather, he gestured to the bedrooms down the hall. “You may rest in the guestrooms if you like, while you wait for the others to arrive.”

“Ah couldn’t sleep if Ah wanted ta,” Rogue replied, setting the pillow down and trying to at least pretend to be comfortable on the couch.

Karen leaned forward and placed her glass on the coffee table. “I’d like to use the bathroom, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Certainly. It’s the first door on your right.” Once she had gone, he faced Rogue once more. “I don’t mean to repeat myself twice in one night, but are you sure you’re all right? You look pale.”

“Ah guess these types o’ things will do that ta a body.” She mustered up a weak smile for his benefit. “Honestly, Ah’ll feel a lot better once Logan an’ them get here an’ we’re on our way back south.”

“I would imagine,” he said in agreement. He noted that despite her efforts to appear comfortable, there was still a stiffness to her limbs. He made the decision to distract her from the current conditions by discussing other things. “Have you begun work on your next record yet?”

“Some,” she returned, grateful for the diversion, although her focus was never completely off the situation at hand. “A song here an’ there, but Ah haven’t been back in th’ studio since we finished th’ last one.”

“That’s good to hear. The sales from ‘Where Are You?’ were phenomenal, even better than your first.”

“Ah jus’ hope it’s somethin’ that we can -- ” She was cut off by a loud thump from one of the bedrooms. As Charles had predicted earlier, she shot off the couch faster than he could have blinked. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, also rising to his feet. He turned in the direction of the noise and called out, “Marcus?”

After several strained moments, his call was met by a chilling silence that echoed throughout the apartment. It was as if every noise had simultaneously ceased to exist and all that remained was a pregnant void of stillness. Even the rhythmic hum of the refrigerator seemed to have stopped in accordance with the hush that had settled over them.

Sweet Lord, he found us. Rogue could feel her heart pounding and her breath coming in short gasps. She tried vainly to compose herself and terminate the various mental images that were incessantly bombarding her thoughts. She wondered about Vic and the other bodyguards, and why they hadn’t answered Charles’ call. What if somethin’ happened ta them? They could be hurt an’ need our help. She took a step forward and prepared to call out to them again. But before she had the opportunity to do so, the lights went out, plunging them into a pitch-black darkness.

 

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