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moon man Bullwinkle
The Theremin's Protege Affair: Part III

-a Man from UNCLE slash fanfic by Taylor Dancinghands

Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin
Genre: slash, h/c, BDSM, A/U: BDSM Universe (Originally created by Xanthe )
Warnings: explicit BDSM (Duh!) + m/m sex, also, lines borrowed from Kipling
Rating: adult, aka NC-17
Beta: The highly precise and efficient spikesgirl58 Thanks!

Length: 3 parts. Part 1 (4 chapters) ~19,000 words. Part 2 (5 chapters) ~23,000, Part 3 (4 chapters) 17,600

Summary: Napoleon has won his submissive's freedom, but at what cost to himself, and to Illya? It takes a little while for each of them to realize the toll it has taken, and longer still to put things back to rights.

Chapter 1 and Index

The Theremin's Protege Affair

Chapter 13

Illya wrapped up the wax play first, flicking and peeling the bits of wax off his sub's body, some of which stripped away hairs and caused his sub to cry out each time. He wasn't fighting the pain anymore, however, Illya observed with pleasure as he cleared away the now wax splattered shower curtain from the bed. He finished cleaning Napoleon up with a soft towel, gently blotting up the remaining ice water and wiping away the last few wax crumbs. He leaned over his sub next, brushing his sweat-dampened hair back and kissing his forehead.

"You respond so beautifully, my Napasha," he murmured. "Only one more ordeal remains for you, and then you can come… and you will, as you never have before." Napoleon's answering moan was still somewhat distressed, but his eyes were serene and Illya's heart leapt to see it. "My brave, beautiful sub," Illya said, kissing his eyes and then his throat. "I do love you, with all my heart." Napoleon answered with something like a soft sob.

Now Illya finally removed his slacks, his cock springing gratefully free as he dropped the trousers carelessly on the floor. Next he picked up the bottle of lube and another small towel, which he laid on the bed under Napoleon. Then he settled himself, cross-legged on the bed between his sub's legs, stroking his hands along the recently wax-abused inner thighs. Napoleon moaned quietly and, glancing at his face, Illya saw that his sub's eyes were closed. He then took hold of the large dildo which had remained inside his sub throughout the last ordeal and tugged on it gently.

Napoleon gave a startled cry when it began to move, and moaned loudly when Illya began to thrust it in and out just a little. When he heard Napoleon's cries become desperate with arousal and saw his cock all but quivering with desire with precum seeping abundantly from the tip, Illya slowly eased the large dildo out. Napoleon groaned with dismay then and Illya truly felt for him. He knew, however, that Napoleon would soon have much more to take its place.

Coating his right hand in generous quantities of lube, Illya now pushed three fingers into his sub and found that they entered easily. He added a fourth and pushed them in up to the base of his thumb —which he used to caress Napoleons perineum. Napoleon cried out loudly, both in arousal and just a little in fear, as he tried to arch his back in the sling. Illya laid his face against Napoleon's left thigh while caressing the other as he slowly moved his four fingers in and out of his sub's widely stretched entrance.

Illya was easily as hard as his sub was by now, but Illya had already come twice today and could make himself wait. He thought Napoleon was ready for more now, however, so Illya pulled his four fingers almost all the way out, added more lube, and then tucked his thumb against the other four fingers. Napoleon could definitely feel it as Illya pushed it all into him, and his cries had the sound of pleading again. Illya was merciless, thrusting in and out of his sub so that his hand, with all five fingers, went a little deeper with every thrust.

Illya rotated his hand as he thrust, taking the utmost care as he stretched Napoleon's entrance wider and wider, his hand sinking inexorably deeper into his sub's body. Illya felt his own breath quicken as he pushed in past the knuckles, then past the joint at the base of his thumb. Napoleon was only panting and whimpering now and his cock had softened considerably at the stress of his entrance being stretched so severely. Both Leon and Edward had told Illya that his sub would be feeling as much pain as pleasure at this point, but that this would change soon enough.

Illya pulled his hand out again to add more lube and did not miss the bereft moan his sub gave. He pushed back in now, agonizingly slow, but without pause. Illya watched, fascinated and aroused as he'd ever been as a Top, as first his fingers, then his knuckles and thumb, then the whole base of his hand slowly disappeared into his sub. Napoleon's whimpers had now morphed into a steady keening, breaking from time to time as he drew gasping breaths. Illya gazed with astonishment at the sight of his wrist emerging from his sub's entrance, and at the sight of the bell still firmly in Napoleon's grip, and felt his heart swell, so much that he could barely speak.

"You've done it, you've taken it all," he said, his voice rough with adoration and astonishment. "My Napasha, my brave, beautiful sub, you've taken my whole hand inside you."

Napoleon gave a sobbing moan in reply and Illya gently stroked his thigh to calm him. They remained thus for a long moment as Illya felt Napoleon's body slowly relax to accept him. He leaned forward to lick the base of his sub's cock and Napoleon responded with an agonized but aroused groan. His cock began to lift itself again, continuing to harden as Illya began to slowly move his hand inside Napoleon. He rotated it just a little, feeling the tight passage relax just a bit more, then he slowly, gradually, curled his fingers into a fist.

Napoleon was back to keening brokenly again, but now his cock was hard and rigidly upright, seeping precome once more. Now, Illya thought, heart racing, slowly rotating his fist so that his knuckles caressed Napoleon's prostate.

"Come now, my Napasha, my love," Illya commanded, a little broken voiced himself. "Come now and give me everything."

Come Napoleon did, screaming through the gag, his body convulsing violently and all but crushing Illya's fist inside him. Illya could hardly care less, as the first sight of his sub's cock spurting forth jet after jet of come prompted Illya's own cock to erupt with its own climax. He cried out in his own ecstasy, head thrown back against Napoleon's thigh and struggled with all his might to remain upright. Panting deeply, Illya finally slumped forward to rest with his forehead on Napoleon's right thigh and listened to his sub's heavy breaths coming in counterpoint to his own.

"My sweet Napasha, you are magnificent," Illya sighed after some time had passed, pulling himself upright. "I must take my hand away now, but I will do it very slowly. You must ring the bell if you wish me to stop."

Napoleon made an affirmative sound and nodded, so Illya began, slowly and carefully, to extract himself. When he was done Napoleon gave a long sobbing moan and relaxed utterly in the sling, every last shred of tension gone.

Feeling the satisfaction of a day's work well done, Illya shook out his aching hand, leaned over to kiss the inside of his sub's thigh, then cleared away the bottle of lube and the large dildo. He used the towel to mop up the come on Napoleon's chest and belly, and his own from his belly and legs and then set to work releasing Napoleon from the sling. This was no easy task as Napoleon had gone completely boneless in the wake of his orgasm. Illya took his time, however, releasing Napoleon's arms first, then his legs, removing the harness that secured his gag last.

Napoleon still showed no signs of moving of his own volition, so Illya had to lift him bodily from the sling. It was hardly the first time Illya had had to carry his partner's full weight and, as long as they stayed in this business, it was not likely to be the last. He laid Napoleon gently on the bed, then hastily cleared away the sling and dropped it onto the floor. He would put it away properly later, but now he needed to hold his sub in his arms and his sub, likewise, needed him.

It was when Illya lay down beside Napoleon and enclosed him is his arms that Napoleon finally showed some signs of life, twining his own arms around Illya to draw him close and press his face into Illya's shoulder. A moment later Illya felt warmth and dampness at his shoulder, though Napoleon still made no sound. Illya could feel his partner's unsteady breaths against his collarbone, but merely held Napoleon close, stroking his hair calmingly. After a time Illya felt Napoleon's breath become steady again. A few moments after that Napoleon finally spoke, rough voiced and so quiet Illya could hardly make it out.

Ï was so scared," Napoleon murmured against his Top's shoulder. "So goddamned scared… Every second, from the moment you left to the moment the plane touched down in New York. There were so many ways things could have gone wrong… so many ways I could have failed you… If I hadn't been strong enough, spoken Russian well enough, been intimidating enough…"

"Trust me," Illya broke in. "You were more than intimidating enough. At the hearing, if there'd been any subs in the room they'd all have come crawling to abase themselves before you… and I'd have had to kill them all."

"Ah, Illya," Napoleon sighed fondly, then sniffled. Illya reached over to get a tissue from the bedside table, wiped his sub's eyes and helped him blow his nose. This last took almost more effort than Napoleon was capable of at the moment and he fell back into Illya's arms when it was done. "You've gone and broken me," he confessed into Illya's shoulder. "Utterly and completely."

"That was my intention," Illya said, lifting his sub's face so he could kiss it. "You seemed to need it."

"Well, you weren't wrong," Napoleon said, giving a languid yawn. "I can't move a finger."

"Then don't," Illya said, pulling Napoleon close again. "You needn't go anywhere or do anything, my Napsha. Just stay here and rest; sleep if you like."

"You'll stay?" Napoleon asked, still needy, though that was understandable.

"I'm not going anywhere," Illya promised.

"Then I think…" Napoleon began, eyes closed, already drifting. "I think I may sleep for a bit."

Illya held his sub as he slipped into slumber —comfortable and relaxed, but not sleepy. He lay contentedly beside Napoleon, arms entwined even as he slept, aware of how much he cared for the man he held, and how much he cherished the rare occasions when he could really care for him. After a time, Illya, too, drifted off into sleep.


Napoleon woke, stretched and slowly came to realize that there was no one next to him in the bed. The space was still warm, however, and he could hear that he was not alone, as the sounds of someone bustling about the place were easily evident. Illya was still with him and, Napoleon noted, catching the mouth-watering scents of garlic and oregano emanating from the kitchen, still taking care of him.

Napoleon stretched again, checking himself over thoroughly. He ached mildly here and there and sitting was going to be more of an issue than it usually was for a day or two, but overall he was in fine shape. Mentally… well assessing his mental state was never so easy or straight forward as assessing his physical state, but he had slept like a baby the last few hours without a trace of any nightmare, and that seemed a positive indicator.

He rolled to the edge of the bed and sat cautiously, then decided on standing as the more comfortable option. He reached for his robe almost instinctively as he headed toward the door, then stopped himself, because Illya had not given him permission to clothe himself yet. He shrugged philosophically and then padded naked into the kitchen to find his Top.

According to the clock in the kitchen it was a little after midnight. Napoleon had no idea of how long he'd slept since he had completely lost track of time from the early afternoon onwards. He thought his lunch had been at a more or less normal lunch time, however, so the sudden and loud growl his stomach made was entirely justified. Illya, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, was hard at work slicing open a long baguette but was alerted to Napoleon's presence by his digestive complaint and turned immediately to face him.

"Sleeping beauty awakes at last," Illya said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty damned good, all in all," Napoleon said, running fingers through his sleep tousled hair. "How long did I sleep, anyhow?"

"Around four hours," Illya answered. "You seemed to be sleeping pretty soundly so I got up around an hour ago to put the lasagna in the oven. If you'd like to put on a pair of shorts you are free to do so. Dinner will be ready as soon as the garlic bread is done."

"You definitely do know how to make a fellow feel cared for," Napoleon said with a smile, stepping forward to greet his Top with a kiss… which turned out to be very garlic flavored.

"And you know how to make a Top feel very well attended," Illya said, reaching down to overtly grope one of Napoleon's butt cheeks. "Now go get dressed before I become distracted and burn the garlic bread." He gave Napoleon's ass a passing swat as he turned to go.

When Napoleon returned from the bedroom, he saw that Illya had pulled the kneeling bench up to the set table. Napoleon sat experimentally and found it only slightly uncomfortable, but nothing that would distract him overmuch. Illya watched him sit, keen eyes catching every twitch and grimace.

"How are your… nether parts feeling?" he asked.

"As well as could possibly be expected," Napoleon answered honestly. "Pretty much the same as last time, which means that you carried that off as well as any professional."

"A professional what?" Illya asked as he set the steaming hot lasagna on the table next to the salad, garlic bread and bottle of red wine.

"In my case, it was a professional dynamic therapist," Napoleon said as Illya took his place at the table. "Which I suppose you'll want to know about now."

"You suppose correctly," Illya said, cutting a square of lasagne and serving it onto Napoleon's plate. He served Napoleon's salad next, then served himself. The wine had been poured already and Napoleon took a sip before continuing.

"You actually have half the story already," Napoleon began. "It was after I'd lost my sub in the war, but what I didn't tell you about was the circumstances… and how badly I took his death." Napoleon lifted his wine glass again, but stared into its crimson depths rather than drinking. "I had already bought his collar and was going to offer it to him when we next had leave, which would have been in a few days. But we got caught in a skirmish just outside the base that day. He… took a bullet that was meant for me… and it just about destroyed me."

"You thought you'd failed, as a Top," Illya said, illumination clear in his voice as he reached across the table to take his hand.

Napoleon squeezed Illya's hand, grateful for the contact. "Yeah," he confirmed with a sigh. "I don't really remember a lot about the next few weeks. My file states that I was nearly catatonic. I'd survived a plane crash and a ten day trek across sniper and snake infested jungles and returned to duty days later, but losing the sub I'd been about to collar got me a psychological discharge without a scratch on me. I was sent home to my parents and they did what they could. I remember… I knew I was home, and that I was out of the war for good, but everything seemed foggy. I could only barely function. I had absolutely no volition of my own and couldn't seem to take interest in anything. The psychologist my parents hired for me said I'd gone non-dynamic, probably permanently."

Illya drew in a pained breath at this and Napoleon couldn't blame him. Even being a switch, or a mono-sexual would be considered an improvement over such a state. Napoleon would have been considered an invalid and pitied the rest of his life —his family, as well.

"As you might imagine, this was considered entirely unacceptable by my family," Napoleon continued. "They'd happily have thrown every penny they had at a solution and luckily, instead of hiring some quack, they were pointed in the direction of a dynamic therapist and Top named Virginia Johnson."

"Didn't she write a book or something?" Illya asked.

"You could say that," Napoleon said with a chuckle. "She wrote it along with her sub, a Dr. William Masters."

"You... had private therapy from the author of the Johnson and Masters book?" Illya asked, incredulous.

"Well, money was not an object," Napoleon said with a smile. "And my parents were really desperate. I would have been too if I hadn't been so screwed up. She Topped me, fisted me, and pretty much broke me down, which was exactly what I needed. She did a few more sessions with me afterwards, but it was clear that she'd mostly set me to rights in the first one. My parents, of course, never once considered that I'd ever need anything like that again and it was never, ever spoken of afterwards. They knew better than to say anything when I announced that I would probably never collar a sub of my own, however."

Illya sat back now, looking a little winded. "Do you really mean to say that I Topped you as well as Virginia Johnson?" he asked.

"Yes I do," Napoleon replied seriously. "I may not have been in as bad a shape as I was after I lost Aaron, but then I'm not twenty two anymore either. I've got a few more years and a lot more experience under my belt, but it still took me a while before I realized what I needed. I… I honestly don't know what I would have done if I didn't have you in my life Illya."

"Very likely you would not have gotten yourself into such an emotionally fraught situation," Illya said, staring down at his plate.

"No, you don't know that," Napoleon said shaking his head as he grasped Illya's hand anew. "The life we lead… some part of me knew it was always a risk. If I lost an innocent I was meant to protect, or failed in some other particularly wrenching way… God knows what else might make me go off the rails. This is what it means to be an Alpha Top, my Illyushka, but as long as I've got you… I know where to turn for help."

"It is my honor and privilege to be able to do so," Illya said, lifting Napoleon's hand to kiss it. "Now you eat before your food gets cold and I will share with you a story of my own… or at least partly my own."

Napoleon happily tucked into his lasagna, which he recognized as having been prepared by an excellent local deli, and listened attentively.

"I was a very angry, bitter young man when I first met Leon Theremin," Illya began. "I had just lost my position as a field agent in the KGB and been forced to accept a state collar. I considered my transfer to research and technology development to be a demotion and an extremely unjust one. When I saw that Theremin, my supervisor, also bore a state collar, but seemed untroubled by it… I am ashamed to say I was… rather an ass to him."

"I'd say I was shocked," Napoleon said mildly, "but then I would be lying."

Illya gave a wry smile. "I am able to be more discriminating these days," he said. "Back then I was angry at everything and everyone, even those who I should have known would be good and true friends." He paused to sigh and take a sip of wine. "One day I was exceptionally cruel and accused him of not having the sense to know what his collar meant and of cravenly accepting his masters' orders. I told him that he did not know what it was to lose his freedom because he had never known it, and of course in this I was very, very wrong." Napoleon nodded as he took a bite of garlic bread, as curious as Illya must have been to hear Theremin's story.

"So this," Illya continued, "would be the part of the story that is not mine. Theremin told me that day, without anger or resentment, about how, when he was a younger man, he had pleased his masters at the KGB so well, with his various inventions, that they permitted him to travel to the West, as a reward. He had recently invented his electronic musical instrument, and wished to promote it, and so a series of concerts and demonstrations were organized, in Western Europe and in the US. In the US it was seen that there might be a market for his invention, and so his visa was extended for the purpose of training some American citizen to become proficient on the instrument and act as a promoter. He trained a number of applicants, but the most talented by far was Mistress Rockmore."

"Of course," Napoleon remarked. "So that's how he met her."

"Just so," Illya confirmed. "He did not have a collar in those days, as he had come to the KGB as a civilian. Their dynamic meshed perfectly and before long Mistress Rockmore wished to offer him a collar, but by then Theremin knew that his time in the US was coming to an end. He feared to accept her collar, lest his Soviet masters take it badly, for she was the one they would blame. He had not yet told her that he primarily worked for the KGB, or what his work entailed."

"He kept all that secret from his Top?" Napoleon inquired, disapproving.

"She was not officially his Top yet. Theremin did soon confess all, as she insisted on knowing the reason he was refusing her collar. Since it was clear that they did wish to remain together, they both agreed to go into hiding in the US. She changed universities, and he took a false name and for several years they were able to live their lives undisturbed."

"There's no way they could do that for long," Napoleon commented.

"Indeed not," Illya confirmed. "One early morning the KGB broke into their flat and had them both chloroformed before they could do anything. Theremin woke up on a KGB plane headed to Moscow and found that he had been given a state collar while he was unconscious. He told me that this was the most painful moment of his life, not because he'd been collared against his will, but because he realized, much too late, that if he had let Mistress Rockmore collar him she might have had some rights to prevent him being collared by the state. Instead she had no rights to even know if he was alive, much less claim him as her own. He promised himself on that day, that he would do whatever he had to, in order to return himself to her."

"And so he did," said Napoleon with satisfaction.

"He did, though it took him seventeen years," Illya replied. "Befriending me added complications, for he did not want me to be trapped as he was. Luckily for all of us, he is a truly brilliant man, and was able to manage his own escape and still find a way to help me."

"Which I certainly appreciate," Napoleon said, lifting his wine glass. "To the brilliant Leon Theremin, with much gratitude."

Illya toasted in turn, both Theremin and his Mistress. "There was one more thing which I learned from my mentor, which we may be able to benefit from now," he said when he'd drunk his measure. "When Theremin finally gave his Top his reasons for refusing her collar, she was, as you might imagine, not content to leave her chosen sub without any sign of her claim. She was able to convince him, instead, that they would each have one nipple pierced, and that on the piercing each would wear a small token of the other. She gave him a faceted gold bead and he gave her one of platinum. He showed me this in secret, soon after he told me his story, for the Soviets had no idea of its significance and it was, therefore, most precious to him. Even then I wondered if I might ever meet someone with whom I would want to exchange such tokens… though considering recent events, I believe I have my answer."

Illya's eyes were fast on Napoleon's as he took in this idea. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. "If that was Mistress Rockmore's idea, then I would have to say that she is as brilliant as her sub, in her own way," he said. "And for my own part, I would say that nothing would please me more than to exchange such tokens with you."

Illya positively beamed. "Unless you have any other place in mind, I believe Edward, at the Sub-Station, would be pleased to do the piercing." Napoleon allowed as how that sounded fine to him, already thinking of what token he would chose for Illya to wear as they both finished their meal.

"You know," Illya said to him as he wiped his plate clean with the last piece of garlic bread, "that I will not be your Top tomorrow morning."

"I believe you've accomplished what you set out to do," Napoleon said, "In my case at least. What about you, Illya? Do you think you're ready to move back into your own place?"

Illya looked down at his plate for a moment, considering. "In a few days, I think," he said. "I may still need a little time to adjust, but I will be ready soon."

Napoleon reached across to take Illya's hand. "You are welcome to stay here, you know, as long as you want, however long that might be," he said.

"I do know," Illya said, squeezing Napoleon's hand as he looked up to meet his eyes directly. "But besides making things more… complicated at work if it becomes known that we share a bed… I think it's probably better for both of us to live apart… more natural, somehow."

"Natural?" Napoleon inquired.

"You've read something of Kipling, I imagine," Illya said after a moment's consideration. Napoleon nodded. "Have you read the short stories he wrote about animals? Not the The Jungle Books, but the ones about how the animals came to be how they are today?"

Though he hadn't read those stories in years, Napoleon suddenly knew exactly what Illy was talking about. "'I am the cat who walks by himself'," Napoleon quoted.

"And all places are alike to me," Illya finished. "Yes, that, exactly."

"When you put it that way," Napoleon said. "I see your point." He lifted his wine glass again. "To cats who walk by themselves… together."

Illya echoed the toast and their eyes met —Illya's piercing aquamarine gaze burning into Napoleon's soul and Napoleon's dark eyes smoldering in return. They touched glasses and drank together.



They got a dinner invitation a few days later, from Mistress Rockmore and Leon Theremin. They both thought it appropriate to bring congratulatory gifts in celebration of Leon's collaring. Illya's gift of an album of modern orchestral music and Napoleon's of a bottle of venerable and excellent brandy were both well received. The food was catered as Mistress Rockmore did not cook. Leon only knew how to make borscht and scrambled eggs, though he informed them with pride that he was enrolled in a cooking course and looked forward to cooking a dinner for them himself soon.

Since both Illya and Napoleon both truly enjoyed Mistress Clara's and Leon's company, they felt certain that he could well find his cooking skills put to the test on a semi-regular basis. Soon it came time for the guests to depart, however, and Illya asked Mistress Clara for permission to take his leave of his former mentor with a brief embrace. His Top granted it kindly, but as they drew apart Illya gave a brief grimace of pain, then blushed. At their hosts' curious looks Napoleon blushed as well and then, of course, explanations had to be made.

"As you know," Illya began with a glance at his partner, "neither one of us is inclined either to offer a collar or to wear one. However, we did wish, after the events of the last month, to give each other some sort of… token of our partnership."

"It was Illya's idea," Napoleon put in. "Though he got the original idea from you, Dr. Theremin."

"Oh!" Clara and Leon both exclaimed with illumination. "May we..." Leon glanced at his Top for approval before continuing. "May we see them… if it would not be an intrusion?"

Now Napoleon and Illya exchanged blushing glances once more, then Napoleon said, "I guess if anyone had the right to see, then it would be you two."

They both loosened their ties, in near unison, and unbuttoned their shirts halfway. Napoleon revealed his right nipple, now ornamented with a small gold ring from which a liquid blue bead of aquamarine was suspended. Below Illya's left nipple could be seen a bead of faceted jet, so sharply cut that it seemed to throw sparks like a diamond.

"It would seem that you are due congratulations as well," Mistress Clara said with a smile. Both Illya and Napoleon became immersed in the act of buttoning up their shirts rather than replying.

"It is not any sort of formal declaration or arrangement," Illya explained eventually. "Merely a private exchange… of tokens of esteem."

"Esteem?" Leon said with a knowing smile. "Well, I suppose that's one way of putting it."

The guests departed then, leaving friends and comforts to step out into the city night where a mild spring rain had begun to fall. The car was parked some blocks away and so they walked, heedless of the perils of the city or the discomforts of the weather. Side by side they went out into the Wet Wild City, passing beneath the Wet Wild Trees and the Wet Wild Roofs, holding each other's warm, strong hands and walking by their wild lones.


So that concludes that. While the potential certainly exists for more stories in this universe, there are no ideas currently waiting to be set to 'paper' in my brain. That doesn't mean that nothing else will ever materialize, but in the mean time I do invite anyone else who has an idea to come play in this sandbox. It's a pretty big sandbox, with lots of corners which remain to be explored.



( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Nov. 28th, 2013 01:03 pm (UTC)
Fantastic. I haven't commented on any other parts before, but each time I see a new post from you, I give a little squeal. This story has been awesome, a wonderful journey, for both the reader as well as our boys!

Thank you.
Dec. 3rd, 2013 05:03 am (UTC)
Wow! What a tour de force!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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