A Lethal Affair

September 19, 2014: Elektra and Jason share stories about how they died.


A fancy restaurant



Mood Music:

She's late.

Is she late on purpose?

Only Elektra Natchios knows this. The door to the restaurant swings open, announcing the entrance of a lean patron, dressed in a strapless very red dress. Her black stiletto heels clap against the floor of the restaurant, and she lingers in the entrance a moment, her green eyes scanning the room for all signs of their assumed meeting.

While she hadn't been wearing a mask (pfft masks) or anything concealing her face, in a way, she looks different outside of her ninja clothes. She wears a girl-next-door vulnerability on her face, an easiness in her manner, and a very small smile on her lips.

In her hands she holds an envelope, presumably the prize they'd both been after and she shuffles between the tables, eyes continuing to scan each of the patrons in turn.

He was early.

And it was very much on purpose.

He's checked out the restaurant, placed a few listening devices, and prepared himself. After all, he had told a perfect stranger where he would be, how he could be identified, and that he would come without a mask. It was foolish, it was reckless, but when did he ever play it safe? And besides, he's a sucker for a great pair of legs.

He's currently sitting near the window, knowing full well that he could be hit by a sniper if someone were so inclined. He's wearing a tuxedo with a red rose stuffed into his lapel, just as he'd promised. In truth, he's handsome, probably younger than she expected, but his eyes, they look a little old, as if he had to grow up fast.

When he sees her by the door, he immediately stands, and as she approaches, he moves around to the other seat, pulling it out for her. "You look incredible, Elektra."

Elektra stops at the red rose and shoots him a grateful, albeit demure, smile when he uses her name. There's one in turn, "Jason, then?" she asks as she slides onto her chair. Her hands smooth the wrinkles from her dress when she sits down, and her legs cross one over the other while she watches him. There's just a hint of suspicion and amusement that reflect in her eyes, curious at whatever game they seem to be playing.

"Thank you," she finally purrs, the compliment only now permeating her consciousness. Her eyelashes flutter as she cants her head to truly inspect him, "You're not what I expected."

Her hands drop to the table along with the manila envelope (she seems to be collecting a fair few these days). With a nearly sheepish smile, shy in a way, she notes, "Of course, I wasn't sure what to expect from someone who tracked me home."

Jason regards her carefully, his eyes lingering on every curve, every contour, as they make their way from those black stiletto heels, up her legs, over the dress, right on up to that beautiful long hair on the top of her head. If he's suspicious of her, he hides it well. He seems relaxed and at ease.

"I do aim to confound expectations," he grins, a boyish look as he moves around to his own chair after pushing hers towards the table. Once seated, he'll rest his elbow on the table and toy with the bow tie for a moment, before his hands drop back down onto the table.

"Oh, I can't believe that. I've seen you work. You're good, very good. And I am certain that you are no stranger to male attention, female too, for that matter, but what I want to know, is what you would like from me?"

She hmmms at the thought, a quiet surmising instigated only by a low hum of her voice. Perhaps she is no stranger. But Elektra regards the question with the coyness befitting a woman in her position. Her pointer finger reaches out to play at the rim of her water glass, circling it and producing a musical sound that eases her smile.

Her gaze lifts to meet Jason's and she shoots him a larger grin. "Dinner," she answers simply. With another sparkle in her smile, she notes, "Of course, you already know who I am thanks to your rather… unsavoury tactics." Her eyebrows lift. "But I know very little about you, Jason." Nor has she put in the work or prep work he has before this little meeting.

When most people watch someone play with the rim of water glass, they think that it's cute, or fun, or another positive synonym. But when Jason watches it, he sees that, and he remembers when Batman and Robin were tortured by a criminal using a giant water glass, the sound resonance almost deafened him. But then, he doesn't have the typical background.

He locks eyes with her as she grins, "oh, is that all? I had hoped that I could have at least gotten some desert, maybe a little dancing, parkour, or more…" he trails off. It's clear to them both what he thinks of her. "Unsavoury tactics?" He places a hand on his chest in mock surprise, "oh, my, my, my, that kind of talk can scare a guy off. Unless of course, that's your plan, weed out the field until only the cream of the crop remains? You said you know little about me. This might not be the best place to discuss it, but, that aside," he places both elbows on the table, linking his fingers, and leaning forward, "what would you like to know, Elektra Natchios?"

There's no reaction at her last name, Elektra had assumed he would've figured at least that much. She tuts, "You cheated and you know it~ We could've danced a lot more if you'd just trusted I'd come. Tracking me counts as a cheat. But then, I guess, maybe I wouldn't have come." She actually chuckles at the thought, and draws her hand back to her lap. "Believe it or not, not every woman is looking for someone to dance with."

As far as what she wants to know, her eyes turn up to the ceiling, "Well, to start, what's your last name?" She pauses. "And who you work for? Clearly not one of the truly valiant whiny types…"

He smirks, "it's not cheating if your heart is in the right place," what drivel, who taught him to think like that? He drops his voice to a whisper, "dance, fight, other things, I'm a man of many interests." He gives her a wink, and raises his voice back to a normal speaking level.

"Oh, that, huh?" He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a business card with his name on it. If she looked it up, she'd find out that he's legally dead. He's actually done a fair bit of cyberscrubbing in an effort to protect Alfred and a few other people who might suffer if they learned of his link to them. "And I work for myself. I'm something of an entrepreneur, and always on the lookout for… model employees."

"Is this a business dinner then?" Elektra blinks owlishly as she lifts a hand to her chest in feigned surprise. "And here I thought you wanted to get to know me, not interview me." With an overdramatic sigh, she rests her hands back on her lap. She clucks her tongue, "And what kinds of things interest you, Jason?" She chooses his first name even as she accepts the card and tucks it into her black handbag.

Her eyes narrow and she watches him carefully, "So. What did you learn about me?" Pause. "Or, did you opt to learn that the old fashioned way?"

"Oh, I hope not." He feigns shock at her reaction, and squirms a little, uncomfortably. "But then, I've never had a problem with mixing business and pleasure." As he stares into her eyes, "but, if it's a choice, I'd much rather get to know you, Elektra. Anything else, well, that would just be gravy."

"What interests me," he leans back in his chair, trying to figure that out. "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? Nah, tried that, it didn't work out too well for me. Hmm," he considers, "I like money, I like safety and security, I like to have a good time, and I like you."

"As for what I've learned, I didn't want to spoil the surprise. They can be dangerous, but I like surprises too."

"Well you're rather forward, Jason," Elektra states with a sharp cluck of her tongue. "And you don't even know me. Believe me, if you knew me, you wouldn't like me." She shoots him an easy smile, matter-of-fact, and altogether even.

"Money. Safety. Security," she repeats. "So a hero you are not." The thought is given consideration. "Neither." Her eyes lid gently and she ponders, "But money, safety, and security aren't my goals." She shakes her head lightly and shoots him another shy smile. She lowers her voice to a whisper, "Revenge, vengeance, and passion link closer to me. Although. Money has appeal." A fan of her fingers presses against her lips to conceal mirth that wishes to escape. "Tell me what's the most interesting thing about you?"

"Well I'm glad you enjoy a surprise now and then." Her teeth play at her bottom lip and then she states, "It would've been useful though for you to know…" Her lips twist to the side, "…you're having a dinner with a zombie."

"Would you prefer if I were timid, nervously trying to gain your interest and desperately hoping that it was requited? I could do that, it's not really my style, but hey, I'll give everything a try once," and lowering his voice back to a whisper, he leans to whisper, "and for the record, I aim to find out."

Leaning back, he shakes his head, "No, not anymore. I tried that. Didn't take. My philosophy is, if it's going to happen anyway, you might as well get in on it." Then, after a pause for a boyish smile, he adds, "if you can't beat 'em, lead 'em."

"I've had my fair share of the first two, in fact, one's ongoing. But that third, I haven't had much of it, but, I'm hoping, with your help, that we can find it again. I just hope I didn't leave it in my other jacket."

"Most interesting thing?" He reaches up to stroke his chin, clean shaven, and considers. He decides to scoot his chair over to hers, so he's at a right angle. It's unconventional, odd, but he does it anyway. Leaning in, he was about to explain, but then she says he's having dinner with a zombie. Instead of the intended whisper, it comes out as a bit of a surprised, little louder than he'd like, but not loud enough to bother other patrons. "You died too?"

Jason's words cause Elektra's lips to part and her cheeks to flush lightly. Once more her eyes track downwards, shy in a way, but then it seems to sink in. It's at that moment her eyes track back upwards to meet his. The questions bubble over her expression one after another. But none are given words. Instead she reaches across the table to squeeze the man's hand. Evidently there's kinship only the resurrected can know, at least in Natchios' mind.

But after that action, she draws her hand back to her side of the table, words finally finding a voice, "Seems like a long time ago now." Her voice drops to a whisper, "Died at the hands of the same man who murdered my father. Killed by my own weapon… in the arms of… someone I cared about." But didn't think to look up when she came back. All he needed was another complication.

She watches him carefully and notes, "I was bested. It won't happen again." She swallows. "How did you die?"

That was a strange reaction. They both died, and her cheeks flush about it. Curious. He looks her in the eyes, hoping that she would give voice to the questions in her expression, but instead, all she gives him is a gentle squeeze of his hand. But the gesture is appreciated, and reciprocated for as long as her delicate fingers remain alongside his.

He listens to her story, curious about it, but this really isn't the kind of setting to share too many details. One never knows who's listening. So when she asks about his, he takes a drink of water, and looks down at the table. "I was an orphan. When I found my mother, she sold me out, trying to save her own skin. It didn't work, for either of us. And my mentor, the guy who trained me, practically raised me as a son, didn't lift a finger against the guy who did it. I wasn't his first victim, or the last."

Oh, there's pain there. He's calm and collected, but seething just beneath the surface. Why is the Joker still alive? He put Barbara in a wheelchair and Jason in a grave. Why does he still draw breath? Why has he been allowed to kill again? Why, why, why…

She reaches across the table again to squeeze his hand once more. "You aren't alone. The fellow who took my life — " she frowns " — much the same. He shouldn't be alive." Elektra observes lightly, "He won't be for long." There's another pause. "Your killer doesn't have to be either." And for Natchios, that is the long and short of it. "He didn't get the pleasure of seeing me draw my last breath. I will see him draw his though. And it'll be slow, laboured, deliberate — " her consideration of all the ways she'd like to see Bullseye die is gratuitous. She's had some time to think about it. And then, as if remembering herself she states, "He doesn't deserve any less."

Her tongue rolls over her lips, "In my experience, the valiant types, while well-intentioned don't have the moxie to do what needs to be done. I'm sure they're fine for when life is perfect, but I see now my life has never been perfect. They can't stand up for others. Not really. Not when they're so afraid of upsetting the balance of things. My killer didn't hesitate against me or my father."

With her hand squeezing his, and his squeezing hers, he says, "Oh, he will meet his end, but for what he took from me, and so many others, I want it to be as long, and drawn out as possible. He took everything from me. I'm not the… boy, I once was. What I am, what I have now, it's not that bad, but it's different. I'll never be the same as I was."

Turning to look at her, he agrees wholeheartedly, "It sounds like we have a lot in common. I'm beginning to think that losing that disc to you, was the best thing to happen to me in a long time."

"As it should be," Elektra replies smoothly. "That's what justice is. It is not locking up people for long periods of time so they can break out of prison and start their patterns all over again. It's exacting what others have done onto them as they deserve."

She can't help but smile at the last, "We seem to agree on philosophy. But I suspect that has something to do with being given second life. It creates perspective in a way I'm not sure many achieve in a first one." Once more she hmmms. "But. What do you want to be now, Jason? Not just what you are, but what to do you want? Long-term."

"There's a guy I knew who would disagree strenuously with that kind of thinking. And he could be convincing, very convincing, but he was wrong." They do seem to be of a similar philosophy, he'll definitely grant her that. "But what do I want to be?"

He has to think of that, "I want to be able to live with myself. I want to be able to look myself in the mirror and like what I see. But, in getting to the top, you have to step on a few people. If I'm actually going to gain control, there's going to be resistance. It'd be a lot easier with you at my side, even if you are one hell of a distraction. But, when he's… gone, both of our people are gone, I want to see the day where people won't be afraid to walk down a dark alleyway at night, where children don't have to worry about drug dealers, or strangers, where the world is normal again, like it was." Of course, he just wants that crime to be shifted elsewhere, to white collar stuff, and live in something of a police state, except one run by the syndicate, but hey, who's counting?

"The people I work for have a certain…" there's a long pause, "power over me." Elektra manages a small smile. "Something to do with being alive." Her lips twitch upwards but she shrugs. "But it doesn't mean I can't use my talents in multiple places."

There's another long pause while she leans back in her seat. "Assuming it's my talents you want." Her eyes lid. "If it's something else…" she swallows hard. "Well, ordinarily I'd give the whole 'I'm dangerous' schpiel, but evidently you're not exactly safe." Her hands drop to her lap. "And evidently we're both living for a second time." She hmmms quietly, slides off her seat to stand and then holds out her hand for him. "I'm not all that hungry." Her eyes darken. "I live a few blocks away — but you already knew that…"

"I can imagine," he is somewhat indebted to the League of Shadows himself, though he is a convert, rather than a slave. He could theoretically leave if he wanted to, but he has no reason to leave, and several reasons to stay. "Can't I want both?" He asks. Her talents are considerable, but then, so is that something else.[%R][%R]He gives her a little wink, "mad, bad, and dangerous to know is another thing we have in common." To be honest, he wasn't all that hungry anymore, especially with such a delightful invitation. Rising to his feet with a surprising amount of speed and precision. He pulls out her chair and offers his hand to her, "please, shall we?"

There's another cluck of her tongue at the question. "I don't think many can have their cake and eat it to. I'm still… not quite myself." And even if he didn't know her before, she knows it now. "And what would you even want my professional skills for, Jason?"

She accepts the hand and nods lightly. "We shall." She links her arm with his, sliding closer to him as she does so. "I feel like some things can be discussed more candidly away from other ears."

Jason slips into his pocket with his free hand, dropping some cash on the table to cover the drink he had before she arrived and heads towards the exit with her, talking when no one's within earshot. "That's true about cake, but I've found it's not quite as true in life."

Once they're on the street, heading towards her home, which is only a few blocks away, he elaborates, "you're well trained, Elektra. I imagine I could find uses for all of your skills. I can't be everywhere, though Gordon knows I try." He is of course referring to the police commissioner, who's probably heard about the Red Hood and his syndicate by now.

As they arrive at her apartment, he smirks, "oh, so this is just a professional visit? And here I was thinking that you were going to tear my clothes off. I must be losing my touch."

Elektra smiles sweetly at his observation about the professional visit before offering him a small shrug. "You're the one that wanted his cake and to eat it too." She reaches out to gently walk her fingers up his shoulder, stopping on his lapel to give it a quick pat down.

She sighs contentedly in front of him and then notes, "There are a lot of reasons for visits…" Her tongue clucks. "Your syndicate. What is it that they do?"

"You can't really fault me for wanting both, especially when it is such a captivating, and I have no doubt delectable cake." He allows her to trace her fingers up his shoulder. She'll find a certain hardness there, under his armpit. He's probably packing heat. But it's quite the hiding job, with no bulge to speak of. If she didn't feel it, she wouldn't have known it was there.

He trusts her, in a restaurant setting, but he's not stupid. "I'm more interested in you, Elektra, but, if you really do want to talk shop, the Syndicate is bent on controlling all crime in Gotham so that I can direct it towards restoring the economic balance, steering it away from impressionable youths, and into more useful outlets, while limiting collateral damage."

The way he says that, it sounds like a speech, almost as if he were reading it off of a power point presentation. "In a nutshell, I'm more Robin Hood than Al Capone, but Capone did have his charms."

Elektra's cheeks redden again. "It's strange in a way," she says earnestly as her hands drop back to her sides, and she slips towards the small sitting room of the apartment. The strangeness isn't elaborated on, and instead has the woman slipping her shoes off. With a small tick of her head she indicates he should follow her. If the gun is remotely unsettling, she doesn't show it, evidently, weaponry doesn't seem to intimidate her. Not really.

She settles on her little couch and grants him a nod. Her lips purse lightly and she shrugs, "I have no problem talking anything. I have nothing to hide." Her eyes hone in on him and she notes, "My cards are on the table. If you want this to be personal, you're going to have to fish just a little more, Jason."

Jason follows after her, her cryptic words of strangeness playing upon his mind. He takes off his shoes, kneeling down to untie the lasses, and places them neatly beside her heels. They look good there, he breathlessly thinks to himself.

Next, he'll remove his jacket, and hang it up in the closet. She has some nice coats there by the looks of it. Now, the gun is exposed, and he removes the harness that keeps it in place, and sets it back down, beside his shoes. He's showing her that he trusts her, not that he's helpless without a gun, mind you.

He resumes following her, a pattern developing, as he makes his way towards the little couch, taking a seat beside her. "All right, cards on the table? Well then, since I returned, frankly, I don't socialise. Not that I ever really did. I was kind of a loner, dedicated, to the cause. I was a hero, under… a different name. I'd tell you, but I don't want to jeopardise the people I worked with."

"But, I like you, Elektra, you remind me a lot of, me. Except I don't look nearly as good in a little red dress. I haven't got the legs for it." He smiles, cracking a joke, "and if you," he gestures his hand towards her, then to him, "you and I, have potential, then that's something I want to pursue. I only met you the other day, and yet, since then, I haven't been thinking about the guy who killed me as much. I still do, but, not as often. There's… been someone else on my mind."

The stripping down of his shoes, jacket, and holster are noted with a flicker of smile and an increased easiness in her own manner. She curls herself up on the couch, her legs drawing onto it as she settles into its folds. With another title of her head, curious and unsure, she finally admits, "I didn't wear the turquoise dress," like she'd said she would, "because I decided this looked better. The last guy I changed four times for couldn't appreciate it." She actually chuckles, "So it seems like there's potential. But I… I don't do this. I haven't - " not since she came back to life. "And my time, my efforts, and my goals are owned by someone else." She runs her hands through her hair.

The long and short of it is, "Getting involved with me is complicated." She lets that word sink in, but even as she does she's leaning towards him. Her weight shifts from under her, causing the skirt of her cocktail length dress to lift just a little exposing the metal pressed against her leg. She slides back again, reaches downward and slides the sai that she'd been keeping here upwards. With a faint sight, she leans away from him to deposit the weapon on the coffee table. She does the same with the other leg. After doing so, she leans forward to lightly brush her lips against his jaw line. And then down his neck to his collar line.

"I noticed, but I'm not one to complain about the trivial details. That you showed up was all that mattered to me. Though, I must admit, you do make that dress look good." He finds it curious that neither one of them have done anything like this since their resurrections.

"What power does this someone, or someones, hold over you? You'd be surprised what kind of resources I can call upon." He tries to talk sense, but he struggles to concentrate when the skirt of the cocktail dress lifts to expose the sais. He's not sure what's better, the thighs, or the fact that she would hide sword catchers between them?

As she kisses at his jawline, working her way down to where the collar of his clean white shirt, Egyptian cotton by the feel of it, he is thankful that he didn't rent this tux. He'd never be able to explain away the lipstick marks upon it. "I like complicated…"

"Just… people…" she murmurs between kisses. Elektra tugs at the button of his shirt collar and she slides backwards a stitch to watch him, but the question has her focusing up. "People who I owe," she finally settles on. "And even if I didn't want to — something…" she shrugs. "It's like I can't help it." With another smile she slides back to her end of the sofa. "I'm me, but not as in control as I once was." With another lift of her eyebrows she silently, and almost comically asks, What you gonna do about it.

She swallows hard, "And I'm not… safe. There was a point in my life when it looked like I was heading for a white picket fence, husband, kids, the whole shebang, but I don't live easy. It's why I died once already."

She's not making much sense, but then she's kissing at his neck, so he's not really about to stop her to ask what she meant by people. With her undoing the button of his collar and slipping away to watch him, he tugs at his bow tie in just the right way to let it slip loose. Where once there was a creative object, now, all that remains are two ends to a narrow strip of cloth.

But then, the conversation turns serious, and he moves towards her, placing a hand around her shoulder, "Elektra, whatever's going on, with them, it can be beaten, and broken. Trust me, I know. There are techniques for everything, a solution to every problem. If you'll let me, I'd like to help you with this one," and in so doing, get a better handle on his life as well, his second life that is.

Leaning in to kiss at her neck, just below her ear, he whispers, "I have a white picket fence… it's around my penthouse." He is after all, a crime lord. He has to live the life or else people would get suspicious. "Haven't found the wife, or made the kids yet, but, maybe, someday."

As he begins nibbling on her earlobe, he whispers some more, "Elektra, neither of us live easy, but we're alive when we shouldn't be. And that's all that matters."

"I think they're details yet to be resolved," Elektra actually leans into his touch as the arm moves around her shoulder. "But the weird, and best, thing about dying is the worst has already happened. The betrayals, the knowing who's in your corner, and what it feels like. The mystery is gone. But the mystery of living again… that's constant. Hard to reboot. Hard to think on anything." There's a strange familiarity about being touched. Like waking up from a long dreamless sleep. And her body naturally encourages it. A soft mmm emits from the back of Elektra's throat when his lips press to her neck and her eyes lid at the touch.

The whisper in her ear sends shivers down her spine while her eyes remained closed. There's a moment when she freezes, the only thing in the space between them is their breath. And it's in that stillness that things change.

She murmurs something low and quiet, "Help me, and I'll help you. We both want revenge. We'll both get it. Your syndicate intrigues me," he fingers run down his jawline. "But I want to help you with more than that." She pauses. "I want to help you get your revenge. That's what justice is."

She stares at him intently, lean back towards him, allowing those words to sink in before she leans forward to press her lips against his.

Continuing his whispered caressing of her neck and ear, "Mmm, then I look forward to resolving them with you and your, shall we say benefactors?" It's a bit early, but he's tempted to say that he will be in her corner. "I can't get over how quickly things have gone. I just met you, and I'm already thinking about the future." Lowering, he kisses down towards her collar bone.

"Then, you may consider yourself a member in the Red Hood's Syndicate," just like that, "but, are you sure about that? The guy who killed me, he's brilliant, in his own twisted way." He leaves that, hanging for a moment, and when she leans forward to kiss his lips, he parts his own, allowing his lips to press against hers, rubbing up and down as he bites on her upper lip, and then his tongue flicks out into the opening between them, grazing her own.

"It's the whole dying thing," Elektra whispers back. "Strange affinities." She's flirted and been flirted with since her return, but hasn't felt an honest connection since coming back to life. "And what does the future look like Mister Todd?" her tone takes on a wicked edge.

The deepening of the kiss has her grasping his hand and pressing against her thigh, sliding it upwards to where she'd so cleverly hidden the sai in her cocktail dress. Her arms wrap around his neck, drawing him closer as her own tongue tastes his lips But that's short-lived. Her arms drift downwards as her hands once more grasp at his collar, this time tugging it gently as her lips continue to press passionately against his. The tugging is intended to draw him to his feet and, assuming he's willing, down the hall.

She pauses a moment, pressing a finger to his lips while she attempts to find his gaze.

"Death can have a strange affect on people," they would have to share their death stories, and circumstances of their resurrections, but that can wait. "I can't say about the long term future, but in the present, the near future, I have a feeling that shortly, both of us will be enjoying ourselves."

And as if to confirm it, she guides his hand towards her inner thigh, which he grips and caresses, feeling the smooth skin against his fingertips. Slowly, his hand inches its way higher. His lips are lost in her embrace, feeling so sensitive in relation to her softness. But then, before he even realises it, she's tugging him to his feet, and down the hall.

He follows after her, undoing a few buttons on his shirt, and losing his cummerbund as he follows her. He catches her gaze, intent behind his eyes, desire, intent, and mischievous.

Her lips quirk upwards as she manages to find his eyes, there's strange relief in having someone respond to her body language. Her lips part once to say something, but his expression is enough to eat her earlier thoughts. Instead, she settles on, "We skipped dinner. Buy me breakfast?" There's simplicity in the request. It's an invitation in its own way, and a request that he stay the night.

Even before receiving a response, Elektra presses a hot row of kisses down his neck and she tugs him again, taking a few steps backwards towards her bedroom, but then she stops her movement, just shy of the door, sliding apart to watch him intently once more.

When he arrived, he removed the gun from under his arm. But while he voluntarily gave up his weapon, it was she who truly disarmed him. He grins at her request, understanding her meaning, and appreciating it for what it is. He is quite happy to agree to that, though he may want to skip breakfast and buy her brunch if he has anything to say about it.

Her kisses excite him, and her tugging keeps him moving forward. He follows her to the bedroom. He regards her as she stops to watch him, and in a burst of childish delight, he picks her up into his arms, carrying her through the doorway, and into the bedroom.

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