Aftermath (wip)
//This is gonna be a long one (because im like halfway through writing it i think? If even that?), and i was gonna hold off and keep it as a total surprise, but my brain literally wont shut off unless i share every last fucking writing apparently, so take this as it is, and ill post the completed and edited one later today probably, with a real summary :P
TWs: character death, grieving, mourning, suicidal thoughts, mentions of Lucky and Cam (disappearing), survivor’s guilt, general guilt. So much guilt.
Renee couldn't handle sleeping in the same room Sam had been in not 4 days ago. She had spent a lot of time with Eli and Sofia and Kat, trying to ignore the emptiness in her head. Sam was the more dominant of the two of them, and now with her gone, Ren didnt know what to do with herself; for being the more confident of the two, she didnt have the will to do much of anything.
By the fourth day though, she figured she couldnt sit and cry on Sofia's couch, finally dragging her ass back to her own cabin. She slowly looked around, remembering every blanket fort and hug that Sam had made and shared, every movie they had watched, and every bowl of popcorn she had eaten. The room felt.. empty now. Grey and dull and lifeless. Or maybe it was Ren feeling that way..? She couldn't tell the difference anymore.
She slowly idled around the room, eventually ending up in her room. She picked up Sam's teddy bear, her favorite that had gotten her through so many bad days. Ren hugged it tight, feeling almost as if she was hugging Sam. She found herself crying again, her knees giving out as a sob broke through her pursed lips. She clutched the bear -- Peter? -- to her chest, biting his ear to muffle herself.
--
She didnt know when exactly she had fallen asleep, but Ren found herself opening her eyes groggily, pushing herself up from the floor. As she stood, she saw the bag Sam had brought with them originally sitting next to the wardrobe, almost completely empty, save a sketchbook and a small fox plushie with a ribbon and a handmade tag that read "Auburn". Reading Sam's handwriting caused her to tear up further, so she set aside the small fox and grabbed the sketchbook.
She flipped through, seeing so many sketches, through various states of completion, the last two causing her breath to catch. On the left of the page was a half finished sketch of Sam holding her hand up to a mirror, her reflection clearly being Renee, smiling back so happily. She lifted a hand to her mouth, trying to hold back a dry sob, lowering her fingertips to the page after a moment. The right page was a half finished Renee in a dress, holding a blue rose, with a roughly-sketched Genesis in a beautiful black dress, almost holding Ren's hand. Across the top in Sam's best cursive was the phrase "For Good."
Ren found herself tearing up once again, the song immediately playing in her head. She couldnt remember all of the words, but the parts she could hear were distinctly in Sam's voice, "So now its up to you, for both of us.. i know im who i am today, because i knew you.. i do believe i have been changed for the better, and because i knew you, i have been changed for good..." Ren sobbed as the words repeated and replayed, what she thought Gen sounding like filling in some of the other half, "just to clear the air, i ask forgiveness, for the things ive done you blame me for.. whatever way our stories end, i know you have rewritten mine, by being my friend..."
She couldn’t hold back the tears, quickly setting the book aside so she didnt fuck with the pages further, bringing her hands up to her face so she didnt have to see anything but the darkness.
--
Finally, Ren had packed up her bag fully. She didnt know where she was going, but she knew she couldnt stay in the cabin anymore; there were so many memories everywhere here, and she couldnt stop replaying all of them. She left Auburn and Peter on the bed, with a short note saying that Eli and Jackie could have them respectively, before leaving out the front door. She considered just walking off the property until she collapsed somewhere, but decided that was a horrible train of thought that she didnt wanna follow, so instead she headed towards the road, caught between borrowing someone else's car and calling a ride.
She glanced up at the main house, briefly remembering the conversation about getting an apartment that Sam--.. that she was supposed to have with Ceph. She debated that too; it wasnt that she didnt want help, it was more that she didnt know if she could face an entire house of memories and people that might try to comfort or stop her, and she hadnt actually mentioned leaving to anyone. The fact that she left without Kat noticing was a miracle, and she couldnt handle explaining herself to anybody -- not when she was still explaining to herself.
"Renren..?" A quiet voice called behind her, causing Ren to tense up. She wanted to pretend she didnt hear him, wished she had made up her mind, wished she could disappear without hurting anybody, but.. She turned around to face Eli, not actually meeting his eyes. She doesnt speak, she hadnt since--..
Eli stepped closer, his hand coming into Ren's view. He reaches for her hand, her shoulder, before pulling away entirely. She wanted to hug him, but couldnt bring herself to move. She should explain, but she still didnt know why she was even gonna leave, and now he was going to blame himself no matter which she picks, and-
"Ren? Eli?" Another voice comes from the direction of the house, louder and more concerned than Eli's had been. Ren notices Eli turn to Jinx, sees Jinx's feet enter her field of view, can practically feel his worry rolling off of him. He had so much worry for someone so young.. "You two okay-?" Jinx sounded almost like he wanted to say more, but decided against it.
Ren nodded to his question, glancing down at the bag that was still clutched in her too-tight grip. This was a mistake. She shouldnt-- she couldnt leave all of this behind. This was.. well, she was happy here. Everyone she cared about was here, well.. almost everyone..
She lifts a shaky hand to run through her hair, habitually sticking her thumbnail in her mouth and gnawing at it afterwards.
"'m fine, but Renren..." Eli trailed off, and Ren felt a pang hit her chest; the first emotion to break her numbness, and it was guilt, how fitting.. These two shouldnt have to walk on eggshells, its not like she was a ticking time bomb..
But as she looked down at her white knuckles, as she chewed her nail down to the pink, as she remembered the voice telling her to join Sam and Cam and Lucky, she wasnt so sure of that anymore.
"Renren, stop," Eli pulled her hand from her mouth, and only then did she notice she had bitten down hard enough to draw blood. Her eyes followed Eli's hand back up to his face, tracing over every worried and distressed and upset mark, and she wished for nothing more than to hold him until they all faded.
Logically, she knew it wouldnt work like that, but she couldnt help but drop her bag and pull him into a hug anyway. It was the first one she had initiated and the first she had reciprocated, and that realization made her heart pang again. Eli was suffering and mourning just as much, and now it was like he lost both sisters.. She squeezed him a little, resting a hand on the back of his head.
Eli hugged her back quickly, his arms around her waist. She could feel the fabric of her shirt becoming damp near his face, but she didnt mind. It was just a shirt, and he was so much more important. She gently brushed through his hair with one hand, the other releasing him and holding a welcoming hand out to Jinx.
He stepped closer, his body tense, but he joined the hug anyway, one hand resting on Eli's shoulder and the other on Ren's back. She rested her hand on his back, just below his shoulder so he could easily duck out when he got uncomfortable.
Her legs were shaking by the time they all finally parted, Eli softly sniffling and Jinx looking a little awkward. Ren rubbed her arm, her hand feeling oddly empty without the bag, her arms feeling oddly empty without them, but her heart feeling a little more full. She pointed up to the house, waiting for both boys to acknowledge the gesture before she picked up her bag and stepped forward, wanting one of them to lead the way. In truth, she didnt want to be alone, and didnt know how to confidently lead anymore, even if it was just inside a big fucking house. She didnt know how to hold herself anymore, and her legs felt like weak cement, both too unstable but too heavy to move.
Eli grabbed Ren's hand, wrapping it round his shoulders, Jinx coming around to take her bag, and the three slowly made their way inside. They were so patient and understanding, and they were so strong.. they shouldnt have to be strong, and another guilty pang flashed through Ren's chest.
~~
// Fin for now <3 Is gonna get worse before it gets better i think, so im sorry in advance? I promise im gonna write fluff soon, i need it so badly and these two assholes arent gonna stop me from giving them fluff, no matter how hard they’re apparently trying??
//Also, in case you couldnt tell, this is Post Cloak AU! Hopefully it stays an au! :)
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World Cup stunning moments: Cameroon shock Argentina in 1990
Simon Burnton: Franois Omam-Biyiks goal and an unheralded team of journeymen defeated Diego Maradonas world champions in Italy
Of the great World Cup upsets the USAs victory over England in 1950, North Koreas over Italy in 1966 and Algerias over West Germany in 1982 probably push it close this one stands alone in myth and memory. It was not a perfect match but it was an irresistible narrative, as the World Cup champions, led by the great Diego Maradona, were vanquished by an unheralded team largely assembled of journeymen players from the French lower divisions though for some of them even that was either an impossible dream or a distant memory.
In the space of 90 minutes African football, once derided for being all about juju magic and Zairian defenders with a limited grasp of free-kick regulations, became credible. The result was celebrated not only in Cameroon, where impromptu street parties erupted across the nation and a reporter from the Telegraph wrote, intriguingly, that a lady in a floral dress and turban did a hand-stand, but across Africa and beyond. When they were finally knocked out a woman in Bangladesh committed suicide, writing that the elimination of Cameroon means the end of my life.
No one thought we could do anything here against Maradona, but we knew what we could do, the goalscorer, Franois Omam-Biyik, said after the game. We hate it when European reporters ask us if we eat monkeys and have a witch doctor. We are real football players and we proved this tonight.
The match is best remembered for the moment, two minutes from the end, when Claudio Caniggia, Argentinas flaxen-haired substitute striker, went on a run down the right. Italia 90 was something of a festival of simulation during which neither Caniggia nor any other Argentinian was to become known for their refusal to go to ground under any kind of challenge, but with his side trailing and time running out he stayed up when an imprecise tackle came flying in, kept going despite a second attempt to bring him down, and was promptly taken out in the most emphatic style by Benjamin Massing, an assault that sent the tacklers right boot, and possibly a few body parts, flying across the pitch, and earned Cameroon their second red card of the day. As Pete Davies put it in his peerless book about the 1990 World Cup, All Played Out, it was a kind of full-pelt, waist-high, horizontal flying bodycheck. The general intention seemed to be not so much to break Caniggias legs, as actually to separate them from the rest of his body.
The opening match set the tone for a tournament that was to feature precisely twice as many red cards as the 1986 World Cup in Mexico, which itself had seen more than any previous finals. Cameroon neutralised Maradona mainly by kicking him, wrote Matthew Engel in The Guardian. He spent much of the game horizontal despite wearing calf pads as well as shin pads. His 10 team-mates seemed too stunned to make any trouble but they were kicked as well, if they got in the way.
Though the first red card, shown to the goalscorers brother Andr Kana-Biyik for a foul on Caniggia, was harsh the French referee, Michel Vautrot, had little choice but to follow Fifas newly handed-down guidelines for ultra-strict arbitration. Brian Glanville, in his Story of the World Cup, insists that a bruising game was made worse by [his] draconian refereeing but in the following days Express, James Lawton proclaimed his victory over a rising tide of wild and often cynical tackling as perhaps the greatest triumph of the night. Sepp Blatter, then Fifas general secretary, boasted before the tournament began that, as a result of their fair play initiative, players will behave in a decorous manner in all phases of the match. The players, it turned out, hadnt really been listening. Im unhappy the referee was forced to intervene as he did, but Im pleased that he did, Blatter said after the match, having criticised the behaviour of players who want to destroy the game of soccer instead of letting creativity and genius flow.
But though a recording of this match will never be of much use to anyone learning the art of clean tackling, there was significantly more to Cameroon than studs and muscle. I dont think they had any intentions of beating us up to win the game, said Maradona. I cannot argue, and I cannot make excuses. If Cameroon won, it was because they were the best side.
This was no fluke, the better team won, wrote David Lacey in The Guardian. They won, moreover, after finishing with nine men on the field Such was their superiority that the Africans still finished looking as if they had more men on the pitch than their hapless opponents.
Argentinas Diego Maradona juggles with the ball as he runs past Cameroons Benjamin Massing. Photograph: Daniel Garcia/AFP/Getty Images
Napoli, with Maradona their inspiration, had just won the Serie A title from Milan by two points, and the local fans delighted in his downfall, so much so that the Argentinian, who had been suffering from an ingrown nail and played with the aid of a protective carbon fibre bionic toe, claimed he had cured the Italians of racism. The whole stadium was shouting for Cameroon, he observed. Wasnt that nice?
They say in Douala that limpossible nest pas camerounais, and never has the saying seemed more true than for those three weeks in 1990. For the Cameroon team that redefined the way the football of their continent was perceived arrived as if intent only on reinforcing stereotypes. Their preparations were shambolic, their squad divided, their players unappreciated, but for all that it took the unequalled penalty-earning skills of Englands Gary Lineker to beat them in the quarter-finals, when England came from behind to win 3-2 just as it was starting to look like Cameroon would be swept irresistibly to a showpiece reunion with Argentina on a wave of supple-hipped, corner-flag-bothering hysteria.
To say they were underestimated before kick-off would be to wrongly suggest that they were estimated at all. The Soviet Union is a tough opponent, but Im generally pleased, the Argentina manager, Carlos Bilardo, said after the draw the previous December. Our group is not the easiest but we should have no problems in qualifying for the second round. Cameroon were widely quoted at 500-1 to win the tournament, among the rankest of outsiders.
A couple of years earlier Paul Biya, the countrys president, had asked the Russian FA to send over a few coaches who wouldnt mind helping out for a while. The first to arrive was Valeri Nepomniachi, an unexceptional ex-player whose only experience of first-team management had been a single season at the helm of an obscure Turkmenistani club in Russias third division. Biya appointed him national team manager, even though he spoke no French and almost no English. At the World Cup his team-talks were translated by the man normally employed as a driver at the Cameroon embassy in Moscow, and by various accounts freely disregarded by the players. Nepomniachi only just made it to Italy, having come close to the sack after the countrys hapless displays at that years African Cup of Nations, where as reigning champions they lost to Zambia and Senegal and were eliminated in the group stage.
After that failure, and just a few weeks before the World Cup, Biya made another intervention. He called Roger Milla, a 38-year-old who had retired from international football three years previously and moved to Runion, a tiny French-controlled speck in the Indian Ocean, where he played for a team called Saint-Pierroise. Biya demanded the strikers return; Milla announced that he was always ready to be called to my countrys colours and back he came.
Cameroons pre-tournament training camps in Bordeaux and Yugoslavia not only featured frequent defeats to obscure club sides in warm-up matches, but also intense bickering, both about Millas arrival and the delayed payments of bonuses due to the players. The goalkeeper Joseph-Antoine Bell became the voice of the players demands for cash. Perhaps, having just come second in the voting for Frances footballer of the year, he felt his position in the team was secure enough to survive a little controversy. But then, on the eve of the tournament, he criticised his team-mates in a newspaper interview, saying they had no chance of coping with Argentina, or any other team and that they will go out in the first round without much glory. Even though his place had, he insisted, been absolutely guaranteed by Nepomniachi, he was dropped. I used to believe that he selected the team, he said. I dont any more.
Bell seems to be an unusually divisive figure. In 2011 he published a memoir, Vu de ma Cage, with a controversial section on the 1990 World Cup that was dismissed by the defender Stephen Tataw as 500% lie. I dont do reflections, I write about facts. The book tells what I have done, it tells the facts of my life, insisted Bell. Every time he spoke his tongue dripped with the poison of selfishness, countered Tataw. Bell returned to the team for the 1994 World Cup; when Cameroon were eliminated in the group stage fans back in Douala burned down his house.
Until just a few hours before kick-off in Milan Thomas NKono had considered himself unlikely to even be in the matchday squad Bell didnt like him, and wanted the relatively inexperienced Jacques Songoo on the bench instead. Suddenly he was first choice, a decision taken so late, and so unexpectedly, that his wife missed his moment of glory having decided to go shopping instead. I thought it was a very bad team and we were going to lose, NKono told Jonathan Wilson in the latters book on goalkeeping, The Outsider. Suddenly the coach said I was going to play. Five hours before the game. I said no way. I had no confidence in the coach. The federation, the minister of sport, seven or eight people were telling me I had to play and I was saying I didnt feel ready. They said if I wasnt going to play they would play Songoo, and if he didnt want to play they would put an outfielder in goal. I went to talk with the president of Cameroon, and eventually I agreed to play.
The replacements performances at the World Cup proved so good that a promising 12-year-old midfielder from Tuscany decided that hed prefer to be a goalkeeper all things considered, and bought his first pair of gloves. It was NKono and his spectacular saves that made me fall in love with the position. He became my hero, the kid said, many years later. As an adult, he named his son Thomas in the Cameroonians honour. The young Italians name was Gianluigi Buffon.
Roger Milla relaxes by a swimming pool during Italia 90. Photograph: Getty Images
Argentina shared a few of their opponents problems, including controversial team selection Jorge Burruchaga was surprisingly chosen ahead of Caniggia and goalkeeping issues. Still, their evening did not start so badly. Everything was under control until Cameroon went down to 10 men and we got disorganised, said the Argentina manager, Carlos Bilardo. Six minutes later Cameroon scooped a free-kick into the penalty area, Cyrille Makanaky flicked it on and Omam-Biyik rose unfeasibly high, while his nominal marker Nestor Sensini hesitated. His header flew low towards goal, though neither very hard nor very far from the goalkeeper, but Nery Pumpido, a World Cup winner in 1986, inexplicably shovelled it into the net. Eleven minutes into their second match Pumpido broke his leg, and he would never play for his country again. Like NKono his replacement, Sergio Goycochea, went on to have a fabulous tournament, excelling in the penalty shoot-outs that took Argentina through the quarter- and semi-finals even if he was beaten by the one penalty that really mattered, Andreas Brehmes in the final.
Bilardo called this defeat the worst moment of my sporting career, and after it Carlos Menem, the Argentinian president, and his predecessor Ral Alfonsn both phoned him to recommend certain tactical tweaks. Everyone called me to tell me what to do, Bilardo said. I heard from the president, two former presidents and the opposition leader. The politicians clearly had some decent ideas, as Argentina made five changes for their next match, and improved sufficiently to reach the final. I have never seen anything like it before in my life, said Bilardo. I have never seen anything unify the nation like that. Not politics or music or anything. Everyone was watching and hoping for the team. And when we came home, they were happy for us. We were proud to have reached the final.
Milla played only the final nine minutes of this game, but settled into his role as Cameroons supersub and scored twice against Romania in their second game and twice again against Colombia in the second round, becoming one of the sensations of the tournament. He returned in 1994, where he broke his own record as the World Cups oldest goalscorer by grabbing his sides consolation in a 6-1 thrashing by Russia at the age of 42 years and 39 days. Ill tell you something, he told France Football after Cameroon were finally knocked out in 1990, if we had beaten England, Africa would have exploded. Ex-plo-ded. There would have been deaths. The Good Lord knows what he does. Me, I thank him for stopping us in the quarter-finals.
Having played for Laval in the French second division, Omam-Biyiks performances earned him offers from some of the biggest clubs in Europe, but he refused to break an agreement to join Rennes. Shortly after the tournament he was asked in an interview with the Guardian whether his match-winning goal against Argentina had been the best moment of his career. It was one of them, he replied. The best moment, if I can stretch the definition of the word, was the whole of that wonderful time we spent in Italy the experience we gained, the atmosphere, and the money.
The team returned to a rapturous welcome, with the government announcing a national holiday to enable everyone to celebrate. When we arrived at Douala airport, the aeroplane had to pull up and come around again, said Omam-Biyik, because the runway was totally flooded with people. The players victory parade lasted two full days, and ended with President Biya conveying honours not only upon the players, but their coaches, the support staff, and even journalists.
Twelve years later the holders were again beaten 1-0 by unheralded Africans in the opening game of the World Cup finals, France falling to Pape Bouba Diops goal. But while 11 of Cameroons 22-man squad in 1990 played for domestic clubs and not one outfield player was based at a European top-flight team, by 2002 all but two of Senegals 23 was based in Europe and 16 of them played in the French top-flight. No team could ever again do what we did in 1990, said Milla. The element of surprise is not there. Everybody knows everything about all the teams now.
What The Guardian said: David Lacey, 9 June 1990
The fanfare for Diego Maradona was drowned by the drums of Black Africa in Milan last night as Cameroon defeated Argentina, the World Cup holders, to open the 1990 tournament by destroying a whole package of preconceptions.
This was no fluke, the better team won. They won, moreover, after finishing with nine men on the field, the result of Michel Vautrots determination to obey Fifas guidelines in dealing with persistent and cynical fouls. The French referee sent off two Cameroon players but such was their superiority that the Africans still finished looking as if they had more men on the pitch than their hapless opponents.
This result, the biggest shock in a World Cup since Algerias 2-1 defeat of West Germany in the opening phase in Spain in 1982, has immediately thrown the new tournament off its predicted course.
Argentinas chances of winning Group B already look slim. On last nights evidence one would not give much for their hopes of defeating either the Soviet Union or Romania. Maradona began brightly but when he faded the whole team fell away, losing rhythm and confidence and looking just another poor side.
Benjamin Massing is passed a tracksuit after being sent off against Argentina. Photograph: Colorsport/Rex Shutterstock
England, if they finish runners-up in Group F, will meet the second-placed team in Group B in Genoa in the second phase. Now Bobby Robson might prefer it not to be Cameroon. Better even Maradona than the inspirational Francois Omam-Biyik, who scored the winning goal five minutes after Kana-Biyik had been sent off and departed blowing a farewell kiss to an adoring crowd.
The Third World has long since threatened to arrive on the wider footballing stage in style but nobody seriously expected Cameroon to make the entrance they did on a balmy Milanese evening after half an hour of noisy pomp and ceremony had made it a natural setting for Maradona.
Long after the finish, in a stadium empty except for reporters, the PA system suddenly burst forth into the theme music from Ben Hur. Certainly this was one race which had seen several collisions and the finish that the majority wanted. The Milan supporters, remembering the way Napoli had pipped their team for the Italian championship, made sure that Maradona did not feel at home by whistling and jeering every time he touched the ball.
Cameroon, and in particular the tall muscular figure of Benjamin Massing, one of four French League players in the side, fouled Argentinas new ambassador for sport at almost every opportunity. Maradona must have felt he was encountering a distant relative of Claudio Gentile.
Massing became the second Cameroon player to be dismissed when Vautrot showed him the red card two minutes from the end after he had taken out Caniggia, sent on by Argentinas manager Carlos Bilardo in the second half to give his struggling team an extra attacker, thigh-high. Massing had been the first of three Cameroon players to be cautioned, so he had to go.
And so did Kana-Biyik, without the preliminary of a caution, for coolly tripping Caniggia just past the hour. To him fell the distinction of being the first player to receive a red card in the opening game of a World Cup since referees started carrying red cards.
Fifa had been specific in its instructions on how to deal with this sort of offence and Vautrot set the sort of disciplinary standards the World Cup needs to heed, otherwise there will be anarchy.
While there was a natural inclination to rejoice with Cameroon, ugly images of their tackling lingered in the minds eye. But when all is said and done it was a joyous occasion which did not lack a sense of irony. Four years ago, when Maradona sent Burruchaga clear to score the winning goal in the last World Cup final, their green-shirted opponents West Germany collapsed in the centre circle in despair. When the game ended last night the green shirts, what was left of them, dissolved into a celebrating heap, leaving Argentina to wonder if the new roof of the San Siro had not fallen in on them.
Cameroon never looked like a side which had been sent into the opening match to play stooge to Maradona. Their man-to-man marking system was tighter, they were first to the ball in all parts of the field, they created space with greater ease and opened up ever widening gaps near goal as the holders defence became threadbare.
From the start Omam-Biyiks willingness to run at a retreating defence looked like causing Argentina problems. Not only that, Cameroon had more skiil on the ball than their supposedly superior opponents.
There was little hint of a shock at the start, which was an anticlimax after all the hype. A couple of touches from Maradona might have given Argentina two goals had not NKono, keeping goal instead of the more experienced Bell, somehow blocked the danger.
A goal then might have settled the holders. As it was, they became unsettled by Cameroons close marking and hard tackling and never got their act together thereafter.
Midway through the first half Burruchaga was just able to flick the ball away from an empty Argentina net after Omam-Biyik had caught them square with an early through ball. Seven minutes before half-time the same player produced a sudden shot from a narrow angle that nearly went in under Pumpidos body.
When Cameroon scored Pumpido was badly at fault. Ironically the goal followed a gratuitous Argentinian foul by Lorenzo, who conceded a free-kick on the right.
Cameroon players pile on top of each other as they celebrate the only goal. Photograph: Bob Thomas/Bob Thomas/Getty Images
As the ball came across, Lorenzo rose with Makanaky and it spun off the defender high to Omam-Biyik, whose header was well aimed but should not have carried the power to beat a goalkeeper of international class. However Pumpido appeared confused by its direction, reacted like a dosing slip fielder and allowed the ball to squeeze under his right hand and over the line.
Argentina could not believe it, the crowd could not believe it, the world television audience probably did not believe it and even now it seems like something out of a fantasy. It is one thing to beat Argentina with a full side but to finish on the attack with nine men is rather rubbing it in.
Source article viahttp://www.theguardian.com/us
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