Sunday, July 22, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Gladiator Stabbed In the Gut
The heavily muscled but inexperienced gladiator attacked his opponent wildly with his sword arm high in the air, carelessly leaving his full abdomen unguarded. His opponent seized upon the opening and brutally stabbed the gladiator in the gut with a quick but powerful thrust of his sword.The gladiator staggered back and covered the deep stab wound in his belly with his hand.
The Death of Roccia
***
Roccia’s arm ached from the full weight of his body as he hung from the large tree in the center of the Roman camp. One end of the rope was lashed around a tree limb several times and the other tied tightly around Roccia’s wrist, suspending him six feet above the ground. The coarse cord had rubbed the skin on his wrist raw but Roccia hardly noticed the gnawing pain...his thoughts instead racing ahead to what he knew was to come. The groans of the other two gladiators dangling on either side of him drew Roccia’s attention back to the throbbing pain that radiated from his wrist, down his muscular arm, and settled in his shoulder.
Severely outnumbered and quickly overpowered by the Roman garrison, Roccia and the other gladiators were captured the night before while attempting to enter the camp. The Roman general ordered the gladiators’ public execution for the following day and had the condemned gladiators stripped of everything except the cloth tunics that wrapped around their waists. The half-naked gladiators were hung by their right arms from the large cypress in the center of the camp and their public and very brutal execution would serve as a warning to the scores of slaves held captive by the Romans. Roccia, knowing he and the others would soon feel the sting of the archers’ arrows, struggled unsuccessfully throughout the night to free himself.
The hours passed slowly and the dark of the night slowly yielded to the pale morning sun. Soon the punishing afternoon rays beat down mercilessly on the nearly naked gladiators as they awaited their fate. Their skin slowly baked to a golden brown. Roccia’s body was soaked with perspiration and his smooth muscular torso glistened in the late afternoon sun. Beads of moisture on his chest formed streams that rolled down Roccia’s large pectorals and weaved their way through the maze of muscles that covered his abdomen. An occasional breeze gently twisted his body and the others as they hung helplessly from the tree. Roccia felt the strength of his powerful body slowly fade.
The Roman archers that would be their executioners passed by the gladiators several times during the day, cruelly taunting their live targets each time they walked by. One of the archers was especially focused in Roccia and slowly scanned the full length of the gladiator’s impressively muscled body each time he passed. His gaze invariably fixed on Roccia's thickly muscled abdomen, and the archer seemed genuinely excited at the thought of sending one of his arrows tearing into Roccia’s rock hard bare belly.
When the slaves in the camp were gathered around the tree to witness the execution Roccia knew his death was near. The three archers that had passed several times during the day were now positioned ten feet in front of the gladiators with more Roman soldiers standing behind them. The archers readied their bows and searched their quivers for the sharpest arrows.
The Roman general briefly addressed the soldiers and slaves gathered around the tree and then called the archers to attention. The three archers raised their bows and took aim at the live targets that hung from the tree like ripe fruit ready to be picked.
“READYYYYY....” the general’s voice bellowed. “...SHOOT!”
Roccia squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He flexed his abdominals hard and waited with panicked anticipation for the arrows to strike. Roccia heard the arrows wiz through the thick humid air but felt nothing.
“Ahhhhh...Uuuhhh.” The sharp thud of two arrows piercing flesh was quickly followed by the howls of the gladiator hanging to Roccia’s left.
Roccia looked to his left and saw that the gladiator had been hit in the belly with both arrows. The third archer then launched his arrow and it severed the rope that held the gladiator suspended in the air and the gladiator fell to the ground. Roccia looked down as the mortally wounded gladiator grabbed the two arrows that were stuck deep in his gut, thrashing around violently on the ground. He was soon motionless.
“READYYYYY...” the general’s emotionless voice droned again. “...SHOOT!”
Once again Roccia closed his eyes and squeezed his abs tightly, waiting for the arrows to rip into his body. Roccia instinctively flinched at the sharp thud of the two arrows solidly hitting their target.
“Uuuuhhh!!!......Aaaaahhhhhhh!!!” The gladiator to Roccia’s right wailed widely.
Roccia’s eyes snapped open and he turned his head. Two arrows were stuck in the muscular torso of the gladiator hanging next to Roccia. One arrow had lodged deep in the gladiator’s belly and the other had hit him in the chest, piercing his heart and killing him instantly.
The gladiator’s limp body fell to the ground when the rope that tethered him to the tree limb was severed by a third arrow. Roccia looked down at the two dead gladiators below him and then turned his attention to the archers as they afixed more arrows to their bows.
Roccia knew it was his turn to die and he prepared himself as best he could. When the general again called ready, Roccia closed his eyes and flexed every muscle in his upper body as hard as his waning strength allowed. Roccia trembled slightly while waiting for the general’s order to shoot.
But before the General could give the order there was a loud commotion at the front gate and the camp was suddenly flooded with rebel gladiators and slaves...Spartacus’ rag tag army of former gladiators and slaves. The archers that were about to launch their arrows at Roccia had turned their bows toward the attacking horde of rebels instead and were shooting arrows indiscriminately.
Roccia exhaled a sigh of relief and relaxed his body. Although he was no longer in immediate danger of being hit with arrows he was still dangling precariously from the tree with a bloody battle raging below him.
A rebel gladiator spotted Roccia hanging from the tree limb and raced towards him. The gladiator scaled the knotted trunk of the cypress and reached out to the limb that held Roccia. One sharp blow of the gladiator’s sword cut the rope that suspended Roccia in the air. Roccia fell to the ground and quickly untied the rope that was still bound to his wrist. Although half-naked and unarmed, Roccia was anxious to join the battle.
Roccia worked his right arm in a circular motion until blood slowly began to circulate again taking away the numbness in his huge bicep and shoulder. Roccia felt his strength slowly returning and he stretched and flexed his muscular torso a few times as he prepared to join the battle.
“ROCCIA...TAKE MY SWORD!” A gladiator ten feet to Roccia’s right shouted.
And when Roccia turned his head the gladiator tossed the sword high in the air towards Roccia.
Roccia reached out with his right arm, anxious to catch the sword when it reached him. His eyes followed the sword as it flew end over end through the air, the polished blade glinting rhythmically as it reflected the sun’s strong rays each time the sword somersaulted in the air. Roccia eagerly reached even further with his right arm when the sword was about to reach his hand.
Roccia reached out with his right arm, anxious to catch the sword when it reached him. His eyes followed the sword as it flew end over end through the air, the polished blade glinting rhythmically as it reflected the sun’s strong rays each time the sword somersaulted in the air. Roccia eagerly reached even further with his right arm when the sword was about to reach his hand.
Roccia's naked muscular torso was fully extended when he snatched the sword out of the air with his fingertips, and a Roman soldier, who had been running toward Roccia, lunged forward with his sword arm cocked fully back and viciously thrust his sword into Roccia’s fully exposed belly, brutally stabbing the gladiator, and driving half the blade deep into Roccia’s gut.
“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!” The crisp sound of the soldier’s blade slicing into the flesh and muscle of Roccia’s torso was quickly followed by Roccia’s raucous roar.
The Roman's powerful sword thrust pushed Roccia back a few steps. Roccia’s fully flexed upper body snapped forward when he was stabbed and the sword he had just snatched out of the air fell out of his hand and to the ground.
Roccia’s attention was so fixed on the sword that was thrown to him that he didn’t see the Roman soldier running at him. The soldier's brutal sword thrust to Roccia's gut caught him totally off guard.
“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!” The crisp sound of the soldier’s blade slicing into the flesh and muscle of Roccia’s torso was quickly followed by Roccia’s raucous roar.
The Roman's powerful sword thrust pushed Roccia back a few steps. Roccia’s fully flexed upper body snapped forward when he was stabbed and the sword he had just snatched out of the air fell out of his hand and to the ground.
Roccia’s attention was so fixed on the sword that was thrown to him that he didn’t see the Roman soldier running at him. The soldier's brutal sword thrust to Roccia's gut caught him totally off guard.
Roccia’s head snapped forward and he looked into the face of the soldier who stabbed him and realized it was the very archer who was so intrigued with Roccia earlier in the day. The archer had shed his bow and was now wielding a sword. The archer, who was so intent on having one of his arrows pierce Roccia’s gut, was no less content with his blade run through the gladiator's muscular belly.
The archer jabbed his left hand into Roccia’s chest then ripped his blade out of Roccia’s belly just as viciously as he had stabbed him.
“Uuuhhh,” Roccia took a step forward and groaned when the blade was pulled out of his gut and he covered the stab wound with both hands, blood spurted between his fingers.
The archer then lurched forward and violently pushed Roccia back against the trunk of the cypress behind him, the same tree that had held the gladiator suspended above the ground. Roccia’s heavily muscled body slammed back against the large tree with a dull thud...the coarse tree trunk dug into his bare back. Roccia was sprawled against the tree trunk with his shoulders pulled back and his arms thrown out to his sides. He was dazed, and his naked muscular torso was fully exposed and vulnerable to the soldier standing in front of him wielding a sword.
“Uuuhhh,” Roccia took a step forward and groaned when the blade was pulled out of his gut and he covered the stab wound with both hands, blood spurted between his fingers.
The archer then lurched forward and violently pushed Roccia back against the trunk of the cypress behind him, the same tree that had held the gladiator suspended above the ground. Roccia’s heavily muscled body slammed back against the large tree with a dull thud...the coarse tree trunk dug into his bare back. Roccia was sprawled against the tree trunk with his shoulders pulled back and his arms thrown out to his sides. He was dazed, and his naked muscular torso was fully exposed and vulnerable to the soldier standing in front of him wielding a sword.
The archer pulled back his arm, stepped forward, and furiously rammed his sword into Roccia’s wide open rock-hard belly again with all his strength. The archer’s blade tore through Roccia’s muscular torso and pierced the tree bark behind him, running him through.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" Roccia’s head snapped back against the tree trunk and he let out a long, agonizing yell as the blade cut crisply into his upper abs and was driven completely through his densely muscled torso.
The archer held Roccia pinned against the tree for a few moments with his sword run through the gladiator’s gut and dug into the tree bark. Then, with his hand planted firmly on the center of Roccia’s chest, the archer ripped his sword out of Roccia’s belly and stepped back.
“Uuuuuuhhhhh!” Roccia groaned again as the sword was violently pulled out of him.
Roccia staggered forward and struggled to stay on his feet. He arched his back and flexed every muscle in his upper body hard as he tried to endure the blistering pain of the two stab wounds in his gut.
The archer, who's bloodlust was not quite satisfied with the two brutal sword thrusts to Roccia’s belly, then drew back his sword and was about to stab Roccia again when an arrow suddenly whizzed by his ear from behind him and slammed into Roccia’s chest hitting him just below his left pectoral.
“UUUHHH!!!” Roccia grunted and his body recoiled as the arrow ripped into his chest...he instinctively grabbed his left pectoral with his right hand...the wooden shaft of the arrow sticking through his fingers.
The archer looked behind him and saw the Roman general that was barking orders before now holding a bow.
“Now the execution is done,” the general said coldly.
Roccia fell to his knees and then onto his side clutching the arrow in his chest with both hands. Roccia then rolled onto his back and his arms fell to his sides...his massive chest rose and fell one last time. Roccia was dead.
The general stood over Roccia’s body and grinned. He was pleased with the kill.
Mark
It was late when Mark squeezed out the last few reps on the pec deck. He pushed himself harder than usual and his chest was on fire. His veins surged, pumping fresh blood into his aching muscles, slowly quelling the burn. Mark stripped off his sweat soaked tank top, looked in the mirror across from him and flexed his beefy pectorals hard.
“Not bad for an old man,” Mark thought to himself. His muscular torso was fully pumped from the intense workout and he looked bigger than ever.
Mark was a few months shy of his thirtieth birthday but he still worked out hard and the results showed. He had been packing on muscle steadily since he started working out as a high school wrestler and his lean muscular body was the envy of every other guy at the gym.
Mark stood up and flexed in front of the mirrored wall for a few minutes, systematically working through each muscle group. He finished his flexing routine with an impressive double bicep pose that brought a wry smile to his face.
“Wow!” Mark thought to himself as he slowly scanned his magnificent reflection in the mirror.
Streams of sweat ran down Mark’s well developed chest and worked their way through the crevices of his chiseled muscular abdomen. He held the pose for a moment longer, savoring his muscular reflection in the mirror. Mark’s gaze turned hypnotic when it was drawn to a drop of water that dangled precariously from his rather large left nipple. Mark snickered to himself as thoughts of his high school gym class suddenly flooded his head. Mark closed his eyes and vividly remembered the incessant teasing he endured about the size of his nipples as if it happened yesterday rather than fifteen years ago.
“Mark, the skinny kid with big nipples” The words still brought a twinge of pain to Mark’s face.
Mark had been embarrassed to take off his shirt in the gym locker room and dreaded hearing the word “skins” when the gym teacher pointed in his direction before the start of some team sport or another. The careless teasing of his fellow students was the reason Mark started working out in the first place. The more the other kids teased him the harder Mark worked out and the bigger his body grew. By his senior year of high school, the rest of Mark’s body had caught up to his large nipples. The kids that had once teased him when he was a freshman just stared with envy at his incredibly muscular young body. And Mark’s perfectly muscled torso, large nipples and all, was always fully exposed for envious classmates to gawk at because Mark never wore a shirt during wrestling practice or in gym class in his senior year of high school.
Mark opened his eyes. The drop of perspiration had fallen from his left nipple and took with it the painful memories of his youth. Mark had certainly grown into his nipples and they were now two beautiful exclamation points drawing one’s full attention to Mark’s thickly muscled pecs.
Mark relaxed his body, moved closer to the mirrored wall and looked at his right eye. It was still swollen and red but looked a lot better than it did the night before. Mark didn’t remember much of the fight other than he was sucker punched in the face. He did remember, however, that when it was all over he was still standing and the guy who punched him and his buddy were both laid out cold in the parking lot of the bar. Even with his black eye, Mark was sure he looked considerable better than the two guys that he had brawled.
Mark looked around the gym and saw no one else around. Saving himself a trip to the locker room he pulled off his shorts and briefs in the weight room and threw them into his gym bag, He felt a bit odd standing in the middle of the weight room completely naked and quickly slipped into his bathing suit and then headed for the pool. Mark hated doing cardio but forced himself to swim fifty laps in the pool every other day, convinced swimming was the least objectionable of the aerobic options.
Mark pushed open the door of the pool room and was startled to see someone else there. He thought all the gym rats had gone home by then. He didn’t recognize the other guy as a regular from the gym, but he did look vaguely familiar and he was wearing swim trunks so Mark didn’t give it another thought. Mark gave the other man an obligatory nod and an unenthusiastic “hey” and quickly turned he gaze, not wanting to engage in a conversation. Mark wanted to do his laps and go home.
Mark started his pre-swim stretching routine as usual. With his two hands clenched together, his arms reached for the ceiling and he slowly moved his torso from side to side. Mark slowly pulled back his elbows and stretched his broad chest. His pectorals still ached from his intense workout earlier but the stretch felt good.
With his elbows pulled all the way back, Mark suddenly felt two arms grab him from behind. The man he nodded to just minutes before had quickly weaved his arms under Mark’s and had both hands clenched tightly behind Mark’s neck.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Mark shouted as his struggled to free his arms from the vice-like full nelson hold.
Mark’s attacker said nothing as he secured his grip behind Mark’s neck and then spun him around violently. Mark knew instantly he was in trouble when he saw the second man walking quickly towards him. The man, dressed in jeans and a black tank top, had two black and swollen eyes and his left arm was in a cast.
“Damn! The guys front last night.” Mark suddenly remembered as he struggled to free his two arms from the iron grip of the man behind him.
“Remember me?” the man with the battered face asked in a monotone.
“Yea, I remember you. Take your best shot.” Mark answered defiantly and flexed his abs hard, anticipating a few solid punches to his gut.
Mark had been in a several fights before and knew he could take a few good shots to the belly without much problem. He suspected the guy grabbing him from behind was getting tired and thought it was only a matter of time before he would have both of these thugs unconscious on the pool room floor.
But a look of terror quickly filled Mark’s face as the man standing in front of him pulled a knife from his back pocket. Mark struggled wildly to free his arms but the man holding him from behind would not relent and instead pulled Mark’s upper body back even further, fully exposing Mark’s abdomen to the man standing a few feet in front of him.
The man that Mark had beaten severely the night before suddenly cocked back his arm, lurched forward, and viciously rammed the knife into Mark’s rock hard gut.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!” Mark yelled out widely and instinctively flexed his abdominals hard as the six inch blade ripped into his muscular belly and was driven completely into his gut.
The man wielding the knife pulled the blade out of Mark’s stomach and stepped back.
“How did you like my best shot?” the man asked sarcastically. “Here’s a few more for you.”
The attacker stepped forward and brutally stabbed Mark in the belly several more times. Each thrust of the knife completely buried the blade in Mark’s fully flexed abs.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”
“Uuuuuhhhhhh!”
Uuunnnhhh!”
“Ahhh!”
“Uhhh!!!”
“Aaaahhh!” Mark’s booming yells of agony echoed in the tiled pool room.
Mark’s upper body snapped forward each time the knife was rammed into his gut but the man grabbing him from behind pulled Mark back each time, giving his attacker’s blade an easy target.
The man with the knife shoved the blade into Mark’s belly one last time and left the knife stuck in Mark’s gut. The man behind Mark finally released his hold and Mark’s arms fell down to his sides. Mark staggered forward and groaned; his right hand grabbed the knife that was still stuck in his belly and his left hand covered the stab wounds in his abdomen, which had begun to bleed profusely.
Mark struggled to stay on his feet but the man behind him pushed him forward and Mark fell into the pool and was fully submerged. The water quickly turned red and Mark was soon floating face down in the pool, blood still pouring from the stab wounds in his belly. Mark was dead.
The two men stood at the edge of the pool staring at Mark’s body for a few minutes and then quickly left the gym, the man in swim trunks pulling a shirt on as he went out the door.
“Not bad for an old man,” Mark thought to himself. His muscular torso was fully pumped from the intense workout and he looked bigger than ever.
Mark was a few months shy of his thirtieth birthday but he still worked out hard and the results showed. He had been packing on muscle steadily since he started working out as a high school wrestler and his lean muscular body was the envy of every other guy at the gym.
Mark stood up and flexed in front of the mirrored wall for a few minutes, systematically working through each muscle group. He finished his flexing routine with an impressive double bicep pose that brought a wry smile to his face.
“Wow!” Mark thought to himself as he slowly scanned his magnificent reflection in the mirror.
Streams of sweat ran down Mark’s well developed chest and worked their way through the crevices of his chiseled muscular abdomen. He held the pose for a moment longer, savoring his muscular reflection in the mirror. Mark’s gaze turned hypnotic when it was drawn to a drop of water that dangled precariously from his rather large left nipple. Mark snickered to himself as thoughts of his high school gym class suddenly flooded his head. Mark closed his eyes and vividly remembered the incessant teasing he endured about the size of his nipples as if it happened yesterday rather than fifteen years ago.
“Mark, the skinny kid with big nipples” The words still brought a twinge of pain to Mark’s face.
Mark had been embarrassed to take off his shirt in the gym locker room and dreaded hearing the word “skins” when the gym teacher pointed in his direction before the start of some team sport or another. The careless teasing of his fellow students was the reason Mark started working out in the first place. The more the other kids teased him the harder Mark worked out and the bigger his body grew. By his senior year of high school, the rest of Mark’s body had caught up to his large nipples. The kids that had once teased him when he was a freshman just stared with envy at his incredibly muscular young body. And Mark’s perfectly muscled torso, large nipples and all, was always fully exposed for envious classmates to gawk at because Mark never wore a shirt during wrestling practice or in gym class in his senior year of high school.
Mark opened his eyes. The drop of perspiration had fallen from his left nipple and took with it the painful memories of his youth. Mark had certainly grown into his nipples and they were now two beautiful exclamation points drawing one’s full attention to Mark’s thickly muscled pecs.
Mark relaxed his body, moved closer to the mirrored wall and looked at his right eye. It was still swollen and red but looked a lot better than it did the night before. Mark didn’t remember much of the fight other than he was sucker punched in the face. He did remember, however, that when it was all over he was still standing and the guy who punched him and his buddy were both laid out cold in the parking lot of the bar. Even with his black eye, Mark was sure he looked considerable better than the two guys that he had brawled.
Mark looked around the gym and saw no one else around. Saving himself a trip to the locker room he pulled off his shorts and briefs in the weight room and threw them into his gym bag, He felt a bit odd standing in the middle of the weight room completely naked and quickly slipped into his bathing suit and then headed for the pool. Mark hated doing cardio but forced himself to swim fifty laps in the pool every other day, convinced swimming was the least objectionable of the aerobic options.
Mark pushed open the door of the pool room and was startled to see someone else there. He thought all the gym rats had gone home by then. He didn’t recognize the other guy as a regular from the gym, but he did look vaguely familiar and he was wearing swim trunks so Mark didn’t give it another thought. Mark gave the other man an obligatory nod and an unenthusiastic “hey” and quickly turned he gaze, not wanting to engage in a conversation. Mark wanted to do his laps and go home.
Mark started his pre-swim stretching routine as usual. With his two hands clenched together, his arms reached for the ceiling and he slowly moved his torso from side to side. Mark slowly pulled back his elbows and stretched his broad chest. His pectorals still ached from his intense workout earlier but the stretch felt good.
With his elbows pulled all the way back, Mark suddenly felt two arms grab him from behind. The man he nodded to just minutes before had quickly weaved his arms under Mark’s and had both hands clenched tightly behind Mark’s neck.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Mark shouted as his struggled to free his arms from the vice-like full nelson hold.
Mark’s attacker said nothing as he secured his grip behind Mark’s neck and then spun him around violently. Mark knew instantly he was in trouble when he saw the second man walking quickly towards him. The man, dressed in jeans and a black tank top, had two black and swollen eyes and his left arm was in a cast.
“Damn! The guys front last night.” Mark suddenly remembered as he struggled to free his two arms from the iron grip of the man behind him.
“Remember me?” the man with the battered face asked in a monotone.
“Yea, I remember you. Take your best shot.” Mark answered defiantly and flexed his abs hard, anticipating a few solid punches to his gut.
Mark had been in a several fights before and knew he could take a few good shots to the belly without much problem. He suspected the guy grabbing him from behind was getting tired and thought it was only a matter of time before he would have both of these thugs unconscious on the pool room floor.
But a look of terror quickly filled Mark’s face as the man standing in front of him pulled a knife from his back pocket. Mark struggled wildly to free his arms but the man holding him from behind would not relent and instead pulled Mark’s upper body back even further, fully exposing Mark’s abdomen to the man standing a few feet in front of him.
The man that Mark had beaten severely the night before suddenly cocked back his arm, lurched forward, and viciously rammed the knife into Mark’s rock hard gut.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!” Mark yelled out widely and instinctively flexed his abdominals hard as the six inch blade ripped into his muscular belly and was driven completely into his gut.
The man wielding the knife pulled the blade out of Mark’s stomach and stepped back.
“How did you like my best shot?” the man asked sarcastically. “Here’s a few more for you.”
The attacker stepped forward and brutally stabbed Mark in the belly several more times. Each thrust of the knife completely buried the blade in Mark’s fully flexed abs.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”
“Uuuuuhhhhhh!”
Uuunnnhhh!”
“Ahhh!”
“Uhhh!!!”
“Aaaahhh!” Mark’s booming yells of agony echoed in the tiled pool room.
Mark’s upper body snapped forward each time the knife was rammed into his gut but the man grabbing him from behind pulled Mark back each time, giving his attacker’s blade an easy target.
The man with the knife shoved the blade into Mark’s belly one last time and left the knife stuck in Mark’s gut. The man behind Mark finally released his hold and Mark’s arms fell down to his sides. Mark staggered forward and groaned; his right hand grabbed the knife that was still stuck in his belly and his left hand covered the stab wounds in his abdomen, which had begun to bleed profusely.
Mark struggled to stay on his feet but the man behind him pushed him forward and Mark fell into the pool and was fully submerged. The water quickly turned red and Mark was soon floating face down in the pool, blood still pouring from the stab wounds in his belly. Mark was dead.
The two men stood at the edge of the pool staring at Mark’s body for a few minutes and then quickly left the gym, the man in swim trunks pulling a shirt on as he went out the door.
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