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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Char be here.


I have not forgotten the game either. Unfortunately, I've been hit by a series of bad luck incidents that required money to fix and lo and behold, up pops a series of art contracts that I can't turn down. So, I'm working my butt off to get through these art pieces thus freeing me up for other things. Thanks for your patience.

Posted on 2007-09-07 at 00:25:01.

Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: Swamped.


I have not forgotten the game either. Unfortunately, I've been hit by a series of bad luck incidents that required money to fix and lo and behold, up pops a series of art contracts that I can't turn down. So, I'm working my butt off to get through these art pieces thus freeing me up for other things. Thanks for your patience.

Posted on 2007-09-07 at 00:24:42.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Unforgettable


I have not forgotten the game either. Unfortunately, I've been hit by a series of bad luck incidents that required money to fix and lo and behold, up pops a series of art contracts that I can't turn down. So, I'm working my butt off to get through these art pieces thus freeing me up for other things. Thanks for your patience.

Posted on 2007-09-07 at 00:24:06.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Haven't forgotten


I have not forgotten the game either. Unfortunately, I've been hit by a series of bad luck incidents that required money to fix and lo and behold, up pops a series of art contracts that I can't turn down. So, I'm working my butt off to get through these art pieces thus freeing me up for other things. Thanks for your patience.

Posted on 2007-09-07 at 00:20:57.

Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: Heading out.


I'm vacationing this weekend. Will be back late Sunday, so I'll likely not get a post in until next week. Was going to wait for Tann's reply to his reprimand anyway.

Posted on 2007-08-24 at 20:37:09.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Need some posts people.


Come on now... let's move this on.

I will post next week whether people have posted or not. Too many missed posts and your character will suddenly be overcome by a bout of bioplague and turn into a mindless killing machine. At that point, I'll have him/her kill all of the other characters in a mass meltdown of propriety and roll this game into oblivion... or not.

Posted on 2007-08-23 at 02:58:04.
Edited on 2007-08-24 at 20:39:03 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: I can't get home much...


Let alone out of state.

Posted on 2007-08-23 at 02:36:49.

Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: Tann


No apology necessary. Characters will be characters.

Correct me if I'm wrong military buffs, but Sergeants are NCOs (non-commissioned officers) and as such, aren't called "sir". Instead, they are called "sergeant" or "staff sergeant" accordingly. As a matter-of-fact, something they say quite often is, "Sir? I'm a sergeant (or staff sergeant) boy! I work for a living!"

Posted on 2007-08-23 at 02:35:43.
Edited on 2007-08-23 at 02:45:00 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Yay!


Yay for vacations! I want a vacation.

Posted on 2007-08-22 at 04:21:08.

Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Nothing more?


Monty listened attentively to the answers given for both his and the Chief's--In that outfit!?--questions. It seemed fairly straight forward, a simple recon mission turning to a search and rescue. They had four hours to prepare...four hours to get familiar with each other, and then another four to six (depending) of flight time. And though the 1st Lieutenant didn't turn to look at his team, he mentally summed up their appearances. Aside from the Chief, there didn't appear to be any anomalies.

One last question still hung in the back of his mind, but he was sure it would be less than civil to ask after it in front of the others, and the Army had likely already thought to provide him with the answers in some form or another. Four hours wasn't much time to go over team members dossier, but it was all he'd have, if that.

When the Colonel dismissed them, Monty rose sharply from his seat and offered a crisp salute, then turned in a more relaxed fashion and moseyed from the room. He was caught up in his thoughts just outside the door by some of the team members...the medic, Corporal Johannsen, and Sgt. Lee introducing themselves and asking after orders.

Monty paused, as was his way, considering the team and what might be the best course of action at this point with the limited time they had on their hands. Having basically been forged in the heat of combat, he relished the opportunities peace time afforded him to consider his actions without just acting on impulse. Unfortunately, in this situation, that seemed to open a door for the Staff Sergeant to take charge. Cocking his head to the side like a bemused puppy, Monty leaned against the wall and watched the reception the NCO received. It was usually the sergeant's duty to keep everything in order while the officers weren't around, but when an officer was present, and the officer had not clearly handed authority over to the sergeant, it was usually good manners to await instruction from "on high". Monty waited until the sergeant had finished, never of the mind that you dress down leadership in front of the team, and then calmly accepted the big man's invitation to join him and the Chief off to the side, nodding his farewells to the rest of the team and returning salutes as appropriate.

“Blake your rank says you’re a Chief Warrant and normally I could respect that but you strike me as one piss poor officer. Now I know you 'Out rank' me but your not in my chain of command on this mission so listen very carefully to what I am saying. You will by 07:30 have on a proper military uniform, boots, cap, the works. You will have whatever weapon they issue you--god help us if its more then a 9 mil--cleaned and disassembled and ready to be reassembled in front of me. You will prove to me that you belong on this mission and will not get in the way of a successful completion of such. Lt. anything you want to say before I dismiss her.”

Monty raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, "Oh, so you're letting me speak now Sergeant?" Turning from the other man he looked down at Blake.

"Chief, Sgt. Kane's right about one thing at least: you're a far cry from regulation, and that usually spells trouble for the team. You buck the System in the Cool, what're you going to do in the Heat? Savvy? Only thing is, the Colonel let it slide, so he must know something I don't, and in Military Speak that means I gotta respect his decision for putting you on my team. Make no mistake, Chief. You and I are gonna have to come to an understanding, and we've got less than four hours to do so. As such, I'm gonna amend the Sergeant's 'orders' and state this much: when you get your gear together you'll meet me in the mess hall proper. I'll expect you no later than 0800 hours." Monty paused just a moment to read her expression before stating, "Dismissed."

When she'd left, he turned back to the man who'd practically absconded his command and stared into the big man's eyes, his own slightly narrowed for a moment as he assessed Kane a little further. Was this staff sergeant power hungry? Was there going to be command conflict? Or was he just trying to be efficient?

"Walk with me a moment Sergeant."

Monty turned and made his way from the room. He continued in silence until he was outside, fully expecting Staff Sergeant Kane to follow as instructed. This was, after all, the military so as far as Monty was concerned, Kane didn't have much choice in the matter.

"Sergeant Kane," Monty said in a calm drawl once they'd set foot outside. "We got ourselves a problem. See? You've just done two things that could get you in serious piles of horse sh*t with me an' we've barely said two words to each other.

"I've got this mantra, ya know? Like a code that I work within at all times. It's kinda like my Ranger's Code, savvy? Well, it don't allow for much in the way of burning bridges immediately, and it won't much allow for me to think the worst of an individual until I've more time for them to sh*t on my shoes. As such, I'll tell you what I'm not gonna do, and then I'll follow that up by what I am gonna do, and then, I'll tell you what you're gonna do."

Monty continued to walk at a slow, leisurely pace as he addressed the bigger man, taking in the sights, watching as squads trotted by on exercise, stopping at a curb to allow a large, brown truck to rumble past. He even paused in his rhetoric to allow what he'd said to sink in for a moment.

"I'm not gonna assume you are out to undermine my command, Sergeant. Instead, I'm gonna assume you were trying to be efficient and I'm going to let that little show of authority back there slide with little more than this said; I am a hands on Looey, Sarge, and I'll be more than happy to let you know when, and if, I need your assistance to get the team pulled together.

"Now, here's what you're gonna do: You're gonna apologize to the Chief, to her face, in front of the rest of the team, because I'll be damned if some staff sergeant knows better than a colonel as far as team placement is concerned, and I'll be damned again if I'm gonna let that little display of disrespect for a senior officer destroy what chances of success we have on this mission. What's more is I don't know who's ass you pulled that bit about her not being in your chain-of-command out of, but as near as I remember Chiefs outrank Staff Sergeants, so because of your little conflagration you'll be making your apology in front of the whole team."

Monty turned and stopped their progress by stepping in front of Staff Sergeant Kane. "I'll have the chain-of-command respected on my team, Sergeant. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?

"Now, since you summarily dismissed my team before I had a chance to give instructions, you'll gather up your gear and spend the next while pulling the team together at the mess hall by 0900 hours. Dismissed!"

Without anything further to say, Lt. Kernan strode purposefully away from the man he'd just put in his place. His destination was quickly fulfilled as he returned to his quarters, made sure his gear was in place, packed it about himself, and made his way to the Mess Hall Proper where he was to meet Chief WO Blake.



Posted on 2007-08-22 at 01:30:36.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Move along!


Wyatt made sure to find other things to be doing during the funeral. He could understand people getting mixed up in something that wasn’t good and not understanding until it was too late, but he had a hard time forgiving the violence they’d brought with them. As far as he was concerned, the Fultons were reminders of who he really was despite the front he demonstrated. His quarters were a good escape.

He’d offered the Marakovs to Ash, the shotgun to Dash, and told everyone that they were going to sell the magnum the first chance they got to add to the ship’s finances. The gatling wasn’t worth the effort so Wyatt had left it in the hands of the ranchers. He’d done the same with the armor—Alliance Luh Suh.

The captain had taken Sam’s answer to his question in stride. He didn’t really need to know what the man’s history was, but, as the intel departments in the military would have said, ‘The more you know…” It was fully feasible that Ludlow had been there for something other than Sam as he’d claimed. After all, he’d lied to get on the Fulton’s boat, and he’d apparently lied to Kenny, costing the boy his life. All that lying had cost the man his life eventually. So be it. Wyatt had let the line of questioning fade into the Black. Besides which, time had come to load up and git, and with the Fulton’s help they’d managed pretty well, getting the crates of ice on board Rocinante without difficulty. That’s when everything turned upside down.

“Captain, it has been a good time with you and the crew, but it is time for me to leave. Rocinante has been my home for awhile now, but well, I think I may have found a new home now.” Kora tries to hold back tears unsuccessfully. “Besides, with these flashbacks of mine, and the freezing up, I’m going to put you and Roc in danger one day. Remember Mack? The guy who helped us on that job, friend of Dash? He’s on Regina and I know he’d jump at the chance to sign on.”

Wyatt had been about ready to board, the others lingering around the cargo bay door ready to say their farewells to the miners when Kora had touched his arm to get his attention. Though the captain’s face remained a screen of calm, and his nod effectively said, ‘whatever’, the lump in his throat and the sudden pit in his belly was a testament to his feelings on the matter. He glanced towards Sam and Jim—the Fultons he ignored—and then back to the beautiful face of the mechanic he’d come to love as family.

“Well,” he drawled. “Can’t say that this doesn’t surprise me. Kora, you know I weren’t concerned none ‘bout your freezin’ up. Willow’d have you fixed up in no time. You was already doing better. But I ain’t never been the type to force someone t’ stay where they no longer want t’ stay.”

The captain then turned and boarded Rocinante, moving quickly through the hold, up the stairs, down the hall, and into the cockpit. Alone, he dropped into the co-pilot seat and stared out into the tail end of the comet. His mind flew faster than the speed of light as he considered her words, her new-found life, what they would miss, the absence of a voice he’d come to associate with his life… after a few seconds, he snatched up the mic and pressed the intercom button.

“Anytime today, Dash. We got cargo t’ deliver.”

Setting the mic back in its cradle, Wyatt shifted his thoughts, more out of necessity than desire. He thought back to a conversation he’d had with Sam just as they were finalizing the deal inside the shattered house.

“Listen Wyatt,” Sam had said, “Bailey wanted me to warn you that the Alliance has set up a blockage on Regina. It is the mining consortium trying to pressure the independent mine owners to work by their rules. Now they are watching but they can’t be everywhere at once. Figure a good pilot would be able to slip by without them noticing. This came up sudden like, before he could warn you. They are in dire need for this ice, so I’m sure Bailey will make good for you."

Blockades, the Consortium, it was sounding an awful lot like the war and the runs he’d made. They’d have no problems if they kept their heads about them.

After they’d detached from the comet Wyatt and Dash had worked to plot their course and using their knowledge of possible military and police blockade actions they’d spent some time discussing possible avenues for dealing with the Consortium. Then dinner time rolled around and Trish summoned them all with the clanking of a bell.

Seated at the head of the table, Wyatt decided to quickly head off any discussion that might arise concerning Kora, his eyes focusing on the kitten that seemed to have come out of nowhere and had taken to perching on Trish’s shoulder like some damnable parrot.

“All right, we ain’t provisioned for another mouth t’ feed, nor is the systems in place t’ deal with… that. Hair all over the place n’ such. What’s more is it appears t’ be someone’s pet gone astray, what with that fancy pretty about its neck. An’ judgin’ by the bauble there, I’d assume it was someone who took a position o’ like t’ the creature. So, we’ll put a lost n’ found poster up on the Feed as soon as we can… maybe it’ll fetch us a bit of a reward.”

After the discussion with about the cat, Wyatt turns to matters of business.

“We’ll connect with this Mack fellow soon as possible, but there’s something the lot o’ you should know. There’s a blockade ‘tween us and dirt. So there’s gonna be some runnin’ an’ that means we need t’ be prepared. Make sure everything’s secured an’ see what we can do about any rattlin’ as we’ll need t’ run silent when we get close. Any questions?”

Posted on 2007-08-18 at 18:56:44.

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Sorry for the late post


Char had acknowledged Maximus' presence with barely a nod as he crept forward and up, and then the rumbling and the splatter... Blinking away the urge to squint at the form, the woodsman frowned in realization, and then the rumbling again. Looking up the stairs, he failed to notice Dapple moving in and attempting to squeeze past the two of them. Brief words were exchanged and the "lad" was suddenly through and moving up the stairs (OOC: assuming Roger let's it go that far).

"By all dat is..." Char muttered in surprise, quickly moving after the rogue. That splattered Imperial must've unsettled him more than he'd realized, to allow Da' Moon to skit and skattle before he was moving. Yer fallin' down, Char-lad. Bes' pick i' up 'gin.

Visions of these green tree-men, only larger, filled his head as he quickly ascended the stairs, still in an effort to remain hidden, though not so concerned with the silent part due to the commotion that was raging above. Whatever was happening, it couldn't be good.

Posted on 2007-08-18 at 18:26:08.

Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: Primary and Secondary Weapon Choice


Monty will take the M6A1 Carbine and the M13 Pistol.

Tann, I believe that all of the Rangers will have a standard operating package of gear that Olan will fill us in on, and that includes the armor. I believe that he was just wanting to know our weapon preference.

I may have jumped the gun, but I had some very elusive free time hit me today so I posted.

Posted on 2007-08-18 at 18:15:27.

Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Guess I'll start this off...


Monty had woken early, as was always the case, and had gone through his routine of exercises with the efficiency of habit. He'd dressed in his neatly pressed uniform, made sure his Velcro patches were properly in placed as he inspected his appearance in front of the bathroom mirror and then stared into his own hazel eyes. There was an expression of seriousness about his face, but his eyes shown through like windows to his soul: excitement, anticipation, laughter... He'd received the docket containing the basics mission information the afternoon before while leaving the rifle range--delivered by a young private who looked intimidated to be in the presence of a Ranger. It had been simple information; a volunteer mission that involved hazard pay. He was to show up in Colonel Lucas' office the next morning bright and early for a briefing.

There'd been many of these types of missions over his career, and Monty had volunteered for every one he could. He thrived on the adrenaline that accompanied the moments just before insertion, the pounding of his heart reminded him of just how alive he was. He'd often heard of adrenaline junkies who needed that rush to confirm they were alive, and he'd dismissed them as fools. When bullets were flying and dusting the ground all around you; mortality was only too close. Monty had never needed the adrenaline to remind him that he was alive--he used it to remind him not to take life for granted.

Raking his hand through his nearly shaved brown hair, the ranger settled his BDU cap on his head and took one last look at himself before allowing a quick smile to flash, white in the tanned flesh of his face. Turning sharply on his heel, the soldier made his way from his apartment to the street where, in the cool of the morning, he hoofed it to the command offices.

As was his MO, Monty arrived fifteen minutes early. He didn't take a seat in the waiting room where a Lieutenant had met his arrival with a nod and then had gone back to his duties. No, Monty rarely sat when he could stand. Now, he studied a painting of horses racing across a brown field that hung between two windows overlooking the exercise field outside of the command office where hundreds of soldiers were gathering in their platoons for their morning maneuvers. The scene reminded him of a life he'd left behind, long ago.

Slowly, the others he assumed would be a part of the team arrived, and Monty quickly realized he was the ranking officer. He greeted every one of them with a nod and a shake of the hand once the saluting was over with. Of all of them, the one who caused him to raise his brow was a female wearing a plaid skirt over black leggings... completely out of uniform. If the Colonel had asked her here then Monty wouldn't question it. Hell, he didn't even know if she were military. He was sure it would all be explained when they'd had their briefing.

Eventually, the lieutenant at the desk got up and checked with the Colonel to see if he was ready, then ushered them into the room. Monty went to the seat that had been indicated and reluctantly planted himself in it: he'd, again, preferred to stand, but when a colonel of the U.S. Army told him to do, he did.

The Colonel went through the standard greeting for this type of meeting, a greeting that covered the responsibility of their ranks and positions, then went right into the meat of it. Monty listened very carefully and when the Colonel offered up the floor, the 1st Looey gave a brief nod.

"Actually Sir, I do have some questions." When the Colonel had acknowledged him, Monty continued, and despite his clear, concise way of speaking, a hint of a Western drawl could be heard. "Where will our LZ be? Right on the facility's tarmac, or are we hoofing it in a ways? Are there any known hostiles in the area? What kind of security does the R&D facility have? What kind of communication do we have at our disposal? Is everything at the complex associated with Project Twilight Seed, or are we going to have to determine what's what once we secure the facility? And lastly, what's our plan of extraction and clock?"

Posted on 2007-08-18 at 18:12:20.
Edited on 2007-08-18 at 18:15:58 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: On the Road Again


The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:53am

DigitalScribe raised his eyebrows for a bit during Croaker’s discourse, but that was the only change to his placid expression as he lay back against the vibrating wall of the van Bull’s Eye was taking out of the lot. He was still working the camera free of its bindings and as the nomad finished up, the media started to place the camera in his bag.

“All right, Choomba,” Frankie gave his friend a cock-eyed grin that oozed charisma. “We’ll play the game your way. Only, if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep me and Guardian around for a bit. You know, after the bullets started flying we found something vested in this morning’s activities.”

The van slowed at the gate. In the distance—barely audible over the rumble of the van and the raging storm—came the sound of sirens. The gate opened as though the mechanism controlling it were too weak to move fast, and then Bull’s Eye was gunning the engine again and shifting gears while spinning the oversized wheel to the right, away from the Hole.

Preacher gingerly lifted his hat from his head and studied the holes through the metal plating on the inside. “Damn…” he muttered as Peacekeeper bent and somewhat distractedly began to probe at the painful rivets in his temple. “Careful, Woman,” The solo growled as he moved to bat her hand away. “That’s a bit tender right now. I ‘ppreciate your attention, but ain’t Firewind a medic?”

Bull’s Eye hadn’t had to wait for traffic to hit the concrete, and he wasn’t paying much mind to the speed limits for the moment. Lightning flashed across the windscreen causing all of the rolling droplets of rain to momentarily light up with brilliance usually reserved for diamonds. The van rocked from a rather ferocious gust of wind worming its way through two buildings, and then the nomad was turning onto a one-way lane heading south.

By this time, Spiff’s conversation was over and the fixer—apparently oblivious to Croaker’s displeasure—was now using his phone to text while Firewind was getting into the nitty-gritty of aiding the wounded team member.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:55am


Posted on 2007-08-18 at 17:45:50.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Huh?


Say-uv-uh? Sah-veh? Saf-fe? I don't know what you're talking about.

Posted on 2007-08-18 at 01:40:32.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Ain't you a bit young


Ain't you a bit young to be worrying about double-shifts?

We'll be patient.

Posted on 2007-08-17 at 02:55:06.

Topic: An alternate sci-fi game?
Subject: Aight an' all dat


I couldn't resist. I submitted.

Posted on 2007-08-17 at 02:53:41.

Topic: An alternate sci-fi game?
Subject: Hmmm... Interesting...


Maybe... just maybe...

Posted on 2007-08-16 at 14:12:29.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Yup it is and Nope


Those all constitute flesh wounds. Wounds that don't penetrate bone or vitals and don't debilitate.

I believe I missed that one vital point when I wrote up my post. Raven told me Guardian would follow DS's orders and put his gun away so it is all resolved.

Posted on 2007-08-14 at 14:16:21.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: Great drama


The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:53am

Preacher’s lip curled as he swallowed his pain and rose a little too quickly to his feet. The ruts along his scalp had been close. He wasn’t fooling himself. If he hadn’t had the extra armor plating put into his hat, he’d had been a dead cowboy right there.

“Thanks,” he growled to Croaker, though his obvious anger wasn’t intended for the nomad. He’d figured he’d beat the gangers and hadn’t considered them being too accurate. It had nearly cost him his life. It was that same stupid overconfidence that had put an end to the Three Muskateers.

Croaker made to sling his arm about the solo, but Preacher waved him off. He realized that he must’ve looked the sight, but there wasn’t any time for unnecessary weakness. “I’ll live, providin’ we hoof it out of here ‘fore reinforcements arrive.”

That’s when he saw Peacekeeper and Firewind making their way back to him. Bless them, he thought as he took a deep, stinging breath to ward off the dizzy, sick feeling that the head wounds were causing. Then, tough as a cowboy from a flat-vid, Preacher took off running back towards the waiting vehicle, Croaker on his heels.

Within moments the solo had settled on the floor of the van where he closed his eyes and breathed deeply again, his teeth clenched. “We got her? We got the bird?”

For his part, DigitalScribe was impressed with the man’s strength. The solo looked as though he was losing blood by the gallon, but a good portion of that was watered down from the rain. None-the-less, the media was more than a little impressed. He knew they’d be on their way now that everyone was to the van, but where to exactly? That was the question. It’ll happen whether you’re focused on it, or not, Frankie. Might as well do something productive. Working the straps of his camera, the media began to dismount it from his shoulder.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:53am


Posted on 2007-08-13 at 05:13:31.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Oh.


Math was never my strong point.

OK, great action, but Preacher had a flesh wound and could act on his own. Obviously, head wounds bleed like a mother... so the lot of you probably wouldn't be able to tell right off the bat. Even Firewind will likely have to check closely to make sure.

Your move.

Posted on 2007-08-13 at 04:56:52.
Edited on 2007-08-13 at 05:15:52 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Not much longer...


I won't wait much longer to post, so if you've got access to these players who aren't posting, let's get them to the boards and posting please.

Posted on 2007-08-12 at 17:05:57.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Hey, no problem


With the writing deadline I've had and trying to put together Flash tutorials for my department at work, I've been working from 7:30am to 1:30pm some nights. Not a whole lot of time to post anyway, so as far as I'm concerned I haven't been waiting on anything.

Posted on 2007-08-12 at 17:05:05.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Sorry to hear about the death.


My condolences to the family Roger and Cathy.

Posted on 2007-08-02 at 19:56:46.

 


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