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Predator and Prey


Star_Dragon

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(I see no reason as to why this should be delayed any longer. Introduce your chars as you see fit. The real time to come together as a team... you will know when it happens.)

 

Virnat, a Romulan Colony on the fringes of the Dragon'taan Coalition Neutral Zone. Since the destruction of Romulus and Remus, it was one of many colonies Romulan refugees sought refuge on. In the different 'verses, the Romulan Empire had been re-united under the banner of Empress Sela, and under her banner, they began to attempt to re-build the Romulan Star Empire, and pressing into service anyone - Romulan or otherwise - they thought could help. But the Colonists of Virnat didn't pay them any heed; military victories over your enemies didn't mean much when you're hungry. Virnat was a simple agricultural colony, initially overwhelmed with refugees. It possessed little of anything of strategic value to the Empire. They had no reason to pay Virnat a visit.

 

But it wasn't the Romulan Empire Captain Trask was worried about. No, the Tulgarian-raised Wolf thought, it was their unseen support from the shadows that worried him. So far, no one had given any indication that they were aware of his ship... which was good, considering that - given what he felt today - he felt he might need it. But he dare not have anything displaying his ship out in plain view as he walked outside. He was dressed in his tactical outfit, which consisted of an armored shirt worn under a multi-pocketed vest, black armored pants, and military-issue boots. Trask was ex-military, and he was proud to show it. Slung across his back was his favored rifle - an RX Mauser H1M1.

 

RX_Mauser_H1.jpg

 

"Must you always go out armed, Trask?" one of the colonists asked.

 

"When you spend a good amount of years in military service, you tend to get accustomed to traveling armed," Trask responded.

 

*     *     *

 

The unseen hunter sighted a target - the first colonist he'd seen today with more armament than those damn plasma pistols the security forces here used. Sitting cloaked and perched on a tower half a klick away, the hunter could get eyes on any target anywhere in this pathetic colony. Strangely, they weren't as well-armed as his employers had suggested; he had seen no signs of any serious weapons trading, and apart from the target's assault rifle and the few security guards' plasma rifles, no one was armed.

 

But going through the intelligence data was his employers' job, not his. He diligently continued to observe the colony, waiting for a target of opportunity...

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It is a little-known secret and it should probably stay that way: attempting suicide can jump-start the brain chemistry. There must be something about taking all of those pills that either floods the brain sufficiently or depletes it so completely that equilibrium is again restored. However it works, the result is that you emerge on the other side of the attempt completely aware of what it means to live. Simple acts seem like miracles: you can stand transfixed for hours on end simply watching the wind ruffle the hairs on your arm. And as always, with each sensation, there is the notion that you must have survived for some reason. You can't doubt it anymore. You must have a purpose, or you would have died. You have the remainder of your life to figure out what that purpose is, and you cannot wait to start looking.

 

It would begin in Virnat. Amelia had not planned on going there, but then again, she hadn't planned on even being alive. During her second semester at Ironwood University while studying photojournalism, she'd made her second attempt on her life. She spent a week in the hospital and was sent to the mental ward for another two weeks for monitoring and evaluation. Not a day after being released, she'd called up her good friend and kind-of-but-not-really boyfriend Derek and asked him if he wanted to help her make some kind of amateur documentary. It should be easy since Amelia, being an avid video blogger since the age of 15, and currently studying to be a photojournalist--plus the fact that Derek had a degree in film and cinematography. With her new lease on life, she thought it would be fun.

 

Derek had no idea about Amelia's most recent attempt. No one knew except the paramedics who had saved her, the doctors who treated her, and Amber, who Amelia had sworn into secrecy. It was more information than he needed to know. Plus, it would surely break Derek heart. Amelia had a special place his soul. And if she'd died, a part of him would have died too. However, he did know that Amelia had been becoming increasingly unhappy, despite her promotions and pay raises. It seemed like the more successful she got, the more miserable she became. It may or may not be ironic to know, but it was mostly due to her illness. She had to try harder than everyone else, and more effort did have its rewards. But ultimately it did have it's drawbacks.

 

Doing this probably meant that she'd spend a lot of time outdoors. If anyone knew her, they'd know that hailing a taxicab was strenuous exercise for her. She'd gone camping once upon a time, and she couldn't get out of it. Ever since, she'd boycotted anything that might possibly involve spiders and didn't come with a blowdryer. Even so, she wanted to do this. She was sure that going to some rural colony might mean bad plumbing and bugs. Such post-suicidal euphoria: nothing seemed impossible. Even hiking boots with six-inch heels.

 

So, it was decided. She was going to Virnat, she was doing this documentary, and she was going to love life itself.

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(Waiting on you, Jimmy. And Naza... that was an awesome [if dark] intro. Good one, and I mean that as a compliment.)

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The light of dawn shown through a small crack in the one window in the building, illuminating the small space. Garrus woke up with a small grunt, sitting up and throwing his legs to the side; rubbing his head also. A night of nightmares didn't help him sleep, his somewhat open yet droopy eye lids saying it all. He pushed himself up off the bed, and walked towards the small dresser in the corner of the shack where his stuff sat. He grabbed his mantis rifle, assault rifle, and pistol, checking them all to make sure they're loaded. "Another day, another hunt." He says as his weapons compact themselves when they go onto his back, and opening the door and walking out. With a couple mile trek, he slides his helmet on and looks around, spotting a good location for sniping. Once he finds a place he heads for it, quickly climbing it and setting up. "Now, lets see what we have here." He says as he drops to a knee, pulling out his mantis sniper as it expands to full size again; and looks down the scope

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Trask wandered over near the cantina, where a friend of his stood waiting. "There you are! Chief's been looking for you!"

 

"Nice to see you, too, Tovan," Trask commented. "Anything new?"

 

"Not unless you count the repeated message Argyle's been sending us - some trouble down at the Vineyard. Something about the Khellids and the irrigation pipes," Tovan responded.

 

"Is that right?" Trask asked. "Well, the little bastards are persistent - I'll give 'em that." He unlimbered his H1M1 and racked a round into the chamber.

 

*     *     *

 

The unseen hunter spotted a new target - one that obviously wasn't Romulan or anything common here. He was heavily-armed, and set up his post awfully close to him. As much as he wanted to vaporize him - as he easily could have done - his orders were clear; he was not to engage any armed individuals until the fleet arrived. Still, the interloper's presence was a threat to him, and he relocated to a more remote location. There, he continued to watch the colony and the few armed inhabitants...

 

(Just so you all know, Khellids are little bugs that are no bigger than a small dog. Well, the drones - the sentinels are the size of a large dog and can fly.)

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"Did you intend to find yourself in the middle of all that happened?" the interviewer asked. "What was your main reason for going to Virnat?"

Amelia looked down for a moment, biting her bottom lip as she contemplated how to answer the interviewer's question. Looking back up at the interviewer, she opened her mouth to speak. "...Well, first of all, I think that is a bit of a dumb question. No offence. I don't think anyone intended to be a part of what happened. We were all there for..." She shrugged. "...whatever purpose we were there for. But most of all, everyone was minding their own business."

 

"And... Why did you and Derek go to Virnat?"

 

"I'm going to be as frank and honest as I can. Right before I left for Virnat, I had attempted suicide. Me even deciding to go there was literally a spur of the moment type thing. I've always wanted to make some kind of documentary. Before I try again and wind up successful--"

"--You're talking about... attempting suicide?"

Amelia quickly nodded. "Yes. Um... I wanted to memorialize myself doing something bigger than myself. I'm sure many of us long to be a part of something big or doing something impactful before our time is up. And I wanted to do that before I wound up taking the chance away from myself."

"You said
'being a part of something big' and 'doing something impactful'. Did you think what you and Derek were doing would be this big or impactful?"

 

Amelia slowly shook her head. "...Honestly? No."

 

~ * ~

 

The scene began with a zoom-in of a woman's crystal-blue eyes narrowing for a moment as the she examined the information before her. They widened slightly and seemed to glitter as new information reflected off of them. She lifted her hand to smooth a tress of flaxen hair out of her face and briefly looked up into the camera. The electric motor inside the camcorder whirred as the shot zoom out to get a full upper-torso shot of her. It's Amelia Cimmaron, sitting at a table browsing through her snapshots on her digital camera, uploading, saving, and deleting select shots. She's a Vulpine/Lupine woman with a vanilla white fur dye job. She sports black color points on her erect ears to give her the appearance of an arctic fox. Her shirt is a plaid flannel, and a viewer with a keen eye could spot the Levi Strauss logo on the flap of her left breast pocket. What she wears on her lower body can't be seen on account of the table she's sitting at. Flipping her hair behind her shoulders. briefly glances up at the camera and smiles before going back to her task of organizing her photos.

"You're already recording?" Amelia says, not looking up from the LCD screen of her Nikon camera.

"Yup," a masculine voice said from behind the camcorder. "Anything to say to the camera?"

 

"No. I'm not ready yet."

 

The cameraman pans to the left to get a shot of the market. Denizens shopping and living their life as they went about their morning. "Sooo..." The cameraman started narrating the scene, spotlighting as he did so. "We are currently at the market having a breakfast of coffee and a few breadrolls." He spotlights upon their food on the table and behind him to get a shot of the cantina they were outside of where they got their food. "...This is the second day of the documentary--" you can tell he used air quotes by the way he stressed the word, "--and we are currently waiting for Amelia Cimmaron to finish playing with her camera." He turned back around to spotlight the Amelia Cimmaron in question, who was finished working her camera voodoo. "Ready now?"

"Let's get this show on the road," Amelia said as she got up to go pay for their food.

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Trask moved through the market, nearly colliding with Amelia as he went.

 

"Oh... apologies, ma'am. Didn't mean to get in your way," he said. The grey-furred wolf looked over at the cameraman and raised an eyebrow. "Is that thing recording?" he asks.

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Derek Armand Ciriano, Amelia's cameraman and partner in crime, was a strapping young gentleman. Chocolate Lab with emerald-green eyes bright with love, hopes, and dreams, unlike that of a jaded soldier. Hair styled in the signature crew cut. He was a beefy, muscular guy with the build of a quarterback. A big guy with an even bigger heart. He knew of Amelia's illness and mode of operating, so when she called him asking for help with a film and photography project, he didn't hesitate to take leave from duty to see her.

"...She called me right out of the blue." Derek said, softspokenly. "We've been close friends since our freshman year in highschool. I had joined the CDF instead of going to college, and we kept in touch, talking by phone, Facebook, whatever. When I take leave, I try to see her every chance I get."

 

"So, about her asking you to come with her?" asked the interviewer, getting back on topic.

 

"Oh, yeah. Uh, like I said, she just called me up and said she wanted to do this. When she was on the phone, she sounded unusually happy and said she wanted to do it. So, I came to help her any way I could."

 

"What do you mean by 'unusually happy'?"

"I'm sure she has told you of her illness. I'm aware of the way it works. You have periods of ups and downs, each period lasting from a week or two to months on end. I was just assuming she was in one of her upper periods."

 

~ * ~

 

Derek followed Amelia with the camera as she got up to go into the cantina. We're able to get a shot of what she's wearing on her lower body: dark-wash denim cut-off shorts and a pair of glossy black Dr. Martens hiking boots. As she's entering the establishment, Amelia collides with a heavily-armed Lupine gentleman.

"Oh... Apologies, ma'am," he said. "Didn't mean to get in your way." He gave a wry look as he peered into the camera lens and asks, "Is that thing recording?"

 

"Yeah, it is," Derek answered from behind the camera. "We're doing a... thing."

 

"The thing is a film and photography project," Amelia corrected him, with a lightly chiding tone.

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"If that's the case, a word of advice; steer clear of the vineyard," Trask said. "At least until I can deal with the little... Khellid problem. Name's Trask, by the way."

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As the time past, Garrus couldnt stand just sitting there anymore, he had to move around. He placed his rifle on his back again as it compacted, the stood again; he leg partially numb from kneeling there the whole time. The turian marked the spot just as he did with the others he'd been in to use them again; and as he did so; his stomach growled a bit. 'Where's a place to get some food?' He thought to himself as he wandered around the area. Finding a cantina, he hoped they'd have some food and walked in, taking his helmet off after entering the establishment

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The bartender looked up at Garrus. "Welcome, sir!" he greeted him. "Anything specific?"

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"Khellids?" Amelia tilted her head to the side. "What are those?"

 

"Aren't those, like... huge bug things or something?" Derek asked feeling his skin crawl.

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"Well, depends on which one you run into," Trask said. "The drones are the size of a small dog. You leave them alone, they leave you alone... usually. The Sentinels are the ones you want to avoid altogether unless you're armed like me." He unslung his H1M1. "The Khellid sentinels are the size of an English mastiff, spit acid, and can fly. Those bastards will attack you on sight."

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The bartender looked up at Garrus. "Welcome, sir!" he greeted him. "Anything specific?"

The Turian walked over to the bar and took a seat, looking at the bartender and saying "What do you have in the food department? Kinda hungry,-" His stomach growls then he corrects himself "-very hungry." 

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"Duuuuuude! We gotta go see 'em!" Amelia said.

 

The camera shook. "Are you nuts?!" Derek's voice was shrill. "He just said they were the size of dogs! And the big ones shoot acid!"

 

~ * ~

 

"And you wanted to see them, even after Trask told you how dangerous they were?"

 

"Yes," Amelia answered.

 

"Do you have an explanation as to why?"

 

Amelia spoke matter-of-factly. "I think that after my attempt, I was launched into a manic episode, hence why I suddenly wanted to go to Virnat in the first place. My mania has gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past. In an episode of mania, one may have delusions of grandeur. For example, I remember one night I was driving home and challenged a palm tree in front of my loft to a game of chicken. I was sure that I'd win and that I could make it move out of my way. Of course, it didn't, and my car was totalled."

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The Turian walked over to the bar and took a seat, looking at the bartender and saying "What do you have in the food department? Kinda hungry,-" His stomach growls then he corrects himself "-very hungry." 

 

"We have a variety of hand-grown fruit and vegetable dishes, along with some meat dishes imported from various places in the galaxy," the bartender answered. "Just tell me what you want - I'll see if we can whip it up for you."

 

*     *     *

 

"I'd advise against trying to get a close-up," Trask said. "Now, filming from afar, I can't stop. Nor can I stop you from... following any path through the Khellid lines I create inadvertently." He said nothing further as he cocked his weapon with a metallic click-click! and moved out. He headed for the Vineyard, and stopped just shy of the Romulan farmer that tended the Vineyard, Amren. Trask paused as he heard him yelling at a trio of farmhands.

 

"... I don't care how big they are! I want those irrigation lines repaired!" Amren looked over to Trask, then asked, "I don't supposed a heavily-armed wolf as yourself is here answering my calls for professional assistance with this problem?"

 

"Depends; you gonna yell at me like you were yelling at them?" Trask asked back.

 

"Not you," Amren responded. "You're the professional that's gonna get this problem contained - they're just incompetent farmhands who are afraid of a few small bugs."

 

Trask changed the subject. "What's the problem?"

 

"Khellids are chewing up my irrigation lines - if they don't get repaired soon, they'll be flooding the Vineyard and possibly nearby places in the colony by tonight," Amren explained.

 

Trask frowned. "That doesn't sound like something they'd do," he commented.

 

"Something's driving them crazy - if you have the time, you might want to look into that," Amren said. He tossed Trask a welding pistol. "Just seal the lines with that. If you see any Khellids out there in the Vineyard... kill 'em."

 

*     *     *

 

The hunter moved quietly across the rooftops, observing the colony activity. Two persons caught his interest - one of them holding a camera. While he could easily disable it with an EMP shot, that'd give away his position. He had to lure them away from the populace... but how?

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"Follow him," Amelia order, waving at the camera dismissively as she went into the cantina to pay for their breakfast. Once she disappeared from the shot, the camera craned to the grey wolf guy who was now talking to a Romulan denizen, who, based on their dialogue, was the farmer of the vineyard and had hired the guy with the gun to get rid of the Khellids.

 

Derek hesitated. "Follow him...?!" he sputtered from behind the camera.

 

"First of all," Derek explained, "I don't do bugs. Call me a wusse or whatever, but bugs have always creeped me out. And then he said these things were the size of dogs??"

"Don't forget, the bigger ones shoot acid," the interviewer reminded him.

 

"Yeeeaaaah, no."

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Trask moved into the vineyard, keeping his H1M1 leveled to fire at a moment's notice. He spotted one of the Khellid Drones, chewing on an irrigation pipe. It seemed odd, but Trask didn't have time to ponder; the little bastard looked up and charged right at him. Trask wasted no time aiming and firing the integrated disruptor of his weapon - the white Kadgeron disruptor pulse disintegrated the Khellid on contact. Trask went on to repair several damaged irrigation pipes, stopping every now and then to ice an overly-aggressive Khellid drone or two. It seemed strange - Khellids didn't normally act like this.

 

Upon completion of his task and making sure the Vineyard was secure from any more Khellid Drones, Trask walked back to Amren. "Seems you were overrun with Khellids. But the pipes are fixed," he reported.

 

"The Khellids must be coming from that cave nearby - but I have no idea what's got them stirred up into a frenzy," Amren said. "You might want to talk to the security officer over near the greenhouses - she might know more."

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"Now, you met an interesting..."

"Ah." Amelia pursed her lips and nodded. "THAT guy..."

 

"What was your first impression of him?"

 

"First of all, he had this damn gun. The biggest gun I'd ever seen. He was dressed in all kinds of military army tactical realness--the genuine article. And... I could just tell by the way he spoke and carried himself that he meant business."

 

~ * ~

 

Derek steadied the camera as he trekked behind the Amelia, who kept her head low as she followed the man of the hour. He steadied his gun, ready to take out the huge bug things. Glancing back at the camera, Amelia began narrating, making sure to keep her voice low.

"Okay so we're following behind this guy who was hired to get rid of these Khellid things from the vineyard..." They were coming upon one of those huge gross bug things as it chewed on an irrigation pipe

 

The camera pointed down slightly for a moment as an audible shudder could be heard from Derek.

 

"I didn't get the guy's name..." Amelia continued. Just as she was about to ask, when a Khellid charged at them. Amelia swore and practically hit the deck just as the guy with the rifle opened fire, obliterating the creature. "Wow, did you see that, Derek?"

"Yes. I did," Derek answered, woodenly.

 

As Amelia moved forward, to watch the guy kill the Khellids, she glanced behind her at Derek and the camera, then double-took, seeing that Derek hadn't moved an inch. "Derek, the hell are you doing?"

 

"--Standing my ass right here," he said, not missing a beat. "The hell does it look like?"

 

"Come on!" she said, beckoning him to come forth.

 

"No, see--...That's okay. I'm fine right here."

 

"Wuss." was her only response.

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"We have a variety of hand-grown fruit and vegetable dishes, along with some meat dishes imported from various places in the galaxy," the bartender answered. "Just tell me what you want - I'll see if we can whip it up for you."

 

"Ok,-" Garrus said, pausing for a second to think, then continuing "-just bring out a few meats you have please? Can't seem to make up my mind." He then rubs his eyes, still trying to shake that tired feeling. "And a cup of coffee also if you have it, black." 

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The bartender snapped off something in his native Romulan, and a steaming cup of Black Coffee was brought out to Garrus. At the same time, a platter of a few meats was brought out - Ham, Turkey, Beef, Bacon, and Sausage.

 

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked again.

 

*     *     *

 

Trask headed for the greenhouse, occasionally pausing to check for more Khellids. Before long, he met up with the head of Security, Nevala. "What's the situation here?" Trask asked.

 

"Not good," Nevala responded. "Khellids have overrun this area. There's something in the cave that's driving them insane - but we can't get anywhere near it!"

 

"Leave that to me," Trask said. He slung his rifle and took out a pair of grenades. He pulled the pin on both, then threw them into the midst of the Khellid swarm. Both of them detonated almost simultaneously, and blew large holes in the Khellid mob. Trask unslung his rifle and began moving through what was left of the Khellids, firing short, controlled bursts from the automatic rifle part of his H1M1 at the Khellid Sentinels while the drones scurried about in fear. The hardened 7.92x33mm Kurz rounds blew holes in the Sentinels and put them down for good.

 

Once clear of the Khellid mob, Trask slowly entered the cave they were coming from. It looked strange, almost like a spider's cave. Trask kept his weapon ready to fire, not knowing what to expect in here...

 

*     *     *

 

Having long since entered the cave before Trask, the Hunter watched from an overlooking ledge as the interloper moved cautiously into the cave. He kept his weapon leveled and ready to fire. Here, the hunter actually worried about being spotted - he was in closer proximity to prying eyes than he'd like, and his distorted figure, though hard to see, would give him away had he moved. Sp he kept as still as he could, hoping the interlopers wouldn't notice...

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"So, the guy went into this nearby cave--where the damn bug shits live or something. Amelia was trying her damnedest to get me to come with her and trail the guy."

 

"Did you go?" the interviewer asked.

"Hell to the naw! Are you out of your mind?!

The interviewer could be heard laughing.

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The bartender snapped off something in his native Romulan, and a steaming cup of Black Coffee was brought out to Garrus. At the same time, a platter of a few meats was brought out - Ham, Turkey, Beef, Bacon, and Sausage.

 

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked again.

 

 

 The Turian looks at the platter in front of him, then says "I'll have those three, whatever they are." He points to the sausage, ha, and turkey, taking a sip from his coffee after. "Oh thats good."

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In a matter of minutes, the cooks whipped up a Sausage, Turkey and Ham platter for Garrus and sets it down in front of him. "Please let us know if there is anything else you require," the one cook said.

 

*     *     *

 

After taking out one or two more Khellid Sentinels, Trask moved deeper into the Khellid Cave. He reloaded his weapon, and looked up in time to see something that wasn't a Khellid. It looked like a small, mechanical spider. Trask shot it dead, and moved to the end of the cave, where he came across an odd device - a beacon of some sort, guarded by a flying machine. Trask wasted no time firing the disruptor of his weapon; the first shot disabled the unit's flying capability, the second took it out of commission. He then quickly shut the beacon off, and the Khellids outside seemed to calm down. Trask emerged from the cave and returned to the colony grounds unhindered. But his face bore a look of concern.

 

He'd seen that beacon before...

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"Thank you." Garrus says, placing a napkin in his lap then eating some of the meat, rotating each bite along with a sip of coffee here and there. Before he realized it he had scarfed down all te meat, so he turned around and looked around the place again, finishing his drink. "Not a bad place, wonder f they have any merc jobs?"

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