Tau Upsilon Gamma [M+/M+] [update - 3/15/24] NEW POLL

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.

Who should Mason save?

NATE: plug gag, gorilla tape bonds, nipple clamps
2
8%
CODY: duct tape gag, handcuffs, Icy Hot
5
21%
LEO: Hoss' sock gag, rope bonds, tickle torture
12
50%
RAY: bandana gag, slave harness, in his underwear
5
21%
HIMSELF
0
No votes
 
Total votes: 24

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KidnappedCowboy
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

Yoko Ono meets Phillip Glass while falling down the stairs.
Good one, [mention]wataru14[/mention] :lol: :lol: :lol:

Diesel to the rescue...YES!! 8-)

The Mayor's mind bleached...DOUBLE YES!!! :twisted: :twisted:

Some chastity device also seems appropriate.... :twisted: :twisted: :twisted: :twisted:

Just a suggestion, my friend! :D
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Post by Volobond »

As always, a well-executed plan set to perfect timing. Nabbing the Mayor and ensuring that Diesel was set on the way was a nice touch. But there are still some loose ends to tie up, and I can't wait to see what pretty knots you make!

As a side note, can I get a link to the videos of Scott, Brett, and Hoss before the mayor gets his well-deserved comeuppance? Asking for a friend. ;)
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Post by gag1195 »

Gosh things are getting rather exciting! Diesel's rescue attempt, the pledges no doubt trying to mount their own escape, the rest of the house rushing back for their own attempt to save their brothers, the Mayor in the hypnotron! So much drama! Can't wait!
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Post by Guardianbound »

Hopefully everything goes well and nothing bad happens to the pledges, they're about to be baked.

I love the added touch of how diesel needs to handle all bondage equipment with delicate care, lest he smashes some expensive one of a kind tech.
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Post by Volobond »

Also... THE HYPNOTRONNNNNN! :D

*excited crowd noises*
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Post by george_bound »

Well well well those last 3 chapters were exhilarating! Massive public shaming in heavy chains and shackles takes a lot of gall but with the city's political arm on your side, I guess you can get away with it!! And now the Hypnotron... and Diesel rip roaring to go... the Mayor in capitivity... wowza!

... Buuuuuutttt, rightly stated: never leave bound up boys alone... its the first rule of bondage... yikes, being burnt to a crisp is far worse a fate than being captured and potentially also humiliated... maybe there's still a chance if DIX realizes they're in the basement needing "rescuing" 😉

Great progress in this amazing amazing tale :)
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Post by wataru14 »

Sorry for the delay. Work and such. But besides that, I need to do a major rewrite on the current chapter. Have to move something to a later chapter and that's taking some doing. Can't give a time-frame but it shouldn't be tremendously much longer.
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

wataru14 wrote: 1 year ago Sorry for the delay. Work and such. But besides that, I need to do a major rewrite on the current chapter. Have to move something to a later chapter and that's taking some doing. Can't give a time-frame but it shouldn't be tremendously much longer.
I know how it is, my friend. It takes time to craft the chapters.

Don't worry about it!!
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Post by wataru14 »

This one is pretty intense. And a little brutal. That's one reason it took so long to write. Things may look bleak, but just trust me...


Conflagration part 12 – The End of a Promising Career

The upper floors were now fully ablaze. Smoke had begun to flood under the door to the basement in earnest and the heat was growing unbearable. With the internet and power out, there was no way to signal for help via computer, and they had already made frantic phone calls to Danny for help. They heard the sirens from the fire trucks wailing a while ago, but none of the firemen had entered the house yet. The boys wondered why until they heard a thunderous crash from above. The structural integrity of the third floor had fallen and the upper level collapsed with a rumble. A reinforced safe crashed through the ceiling a little while later, slamming into the basement floor in the corner.

The boys had shoved as much of the furniture as they could reach into a barrier, hoping it would serve as a firebreak and a wall against the smoke. They tried screaming. They tried furiously to unchain themselves. But to no avail. They were currently huddled together in the lee of the wall, terrified out of their minds and ankles raw and bloody. Unbeknownst to them, even if they were unchained from the floor they wouldn’t have been able to escape the basement. DIX had covered the exterior stairs with debris and the fire would have made using the regular stairs impossible. None, not even Mason, were slim enough to shimmy through the window. They had shredded their discarded shirts and doused them with water, wrapping the remnants over their mouths and noses as a last-ditch defense against the growing cloud of smoke filling the room as they huddled behind their makeshift wall at the far end of the basement.

The boys had started to panic, and Cody was doing all he could to calm them. Freaking out would only make things worse. The others and the fire department were there, they just had to hope rescue came before… he tried not to think about it. Leo had begun to mumble about burning to death, but Mason knew that wouldn’t happen. The smoke or heat would get to them long before the flames did. Even lying on the floor as they were would only give them a fraction more time. He knew the rescue wouldn’t make it to them before that. Especially with the ominous creaking of the floor above them. It was only a matter of time before it came down on them, too. He knew it was bleak, and everyone else picked up on that, too. Eventually panic had given way to grim acceptance. They huddled together close as a group, arms around each other. Hoping to find some solace in togetherness before the end.

Cody coughed as the smoke grew thicker. He thought about what LJ was doing right now. And what he would do… after. And the thought about the Ben Davids. This would destroy them. Leo’s mother and the Major would move on, eventually, but not the Ben Davids. Losing Nate would crush them. He wondered how his own father would get past this. If he ever could. But his thoughts were never finished as a thunderous crack erupted above the five pledges and the central support beam in the ceiling snapped in two.

---

The Mayor sat immobile in the Hypnotron chair, strapped down across his arms, legs and chest with thick polymer restraint straps. A similar strap across his forehead forced his head into a still position and made him face forward, unable to turn. His captors stood silently facing him, side by side. On the left was Queer Eye, the unholy pink abomination. And on the right, although his face was different, was Dr. Calamity. The latter showed no signs of gloating or pleasure in the Mayor’s captivity, a stark difference from the other times he had been in the doctor’s clutches a few years back. Instead, he looked angry. With a hint of sadness behind it.

“I’ve had enough of this!” the Mayor screamed. “Let me loose.” Dr. Calamity snarled and slapped the Mayor across the face with the back of his hand. The Mayor flinched. The doctor had never gotten physical before, at least not out of anger. This was different. He always kept his composure, and for him to lose it like that meant things were very serious, indeed.

“I bet you’re very pleased with yourself,” the Doctor said to his captive. “You manipulated a bunch of kids whose brains aren’t fully developed yet and made them do your dirty work for you. You’re too chickenshit to strike back against your enemies yourself, so you subcontracted. Big man.”

“Big talk from you,” the Mayor spat. “You never did anything without 20 henchmen behind you.”

“Henchmen who were very well paid and knew what they were getting into,” the doctor retorted. “I bet none of them even know why you decided to finance their petty feud in the first place. Not even Clay. But that isn’t important. You won! You humiliated a bunch of kids. Congrat-u-fucking-lations! But that’s not all you did. Of course, you don’t know that part because we snatched you before you could see the news report. But I’m going to show you exactly what your pride hath wrought.”

Queer Eye stepped aside and flipped a remote control device. The screen behind them crackled to life and displayed the TUG house, fully ablaze. The inferno cracked through the collapsed roof and spewed from the windows. The fire department was valiantly trying to extinguish the flames, and police had their hands full keeping the Brothers from rushing into the house. There was screaming and pleading, but none of it was intelligible.

“So the house is on fire,” the Mayor smirked. “Good. We’ll finally be rid of that eyesore. Why should I care about that?”

“Because of this, you twat!” Queer Eye shouted and changed the camera feed. It now showed the security camera in the basement. At first the Mayor couldn’t see much through the smoke, but then he gasped. Huddled together, their faces black with soot and wet with tears, were the five Freshmen. They were crammed behind a makeshift firebreak. There was an ominous creaking in the ceiling.

“What?” the Mayor shouted. “No! That can’t be true. They were all going to be out of the house! No one was supposed to be…” he cut himself off in mid-sentence.

The Doctor’s face froze upon hearing this and then became a snarling death mask. Queer Eye’s pupil turned blood-red. “You planned this!” he screamed. He raced for the Mayor, hands aimed at his throat, but was stopped by the Doctor.

“No, my friend,” the doctor said, all emotion gone from his voice. “Death is too good for him. He’s going to watch.” Instantly, tendrils of wire extended out of the chair and attached to the Mayor’s temples, forcing his eyes wide open. The monitor detached from the wall and zoomed right up to him, scant inches from his face. Speakers in the headrest projected the sounds of the five boys screaming and crying directly into his ears.

“No!” the Mayor screamed. “Stop! Take it away!” But the doctor would not relent. The Mayor watched in horror as all five boys in the basement heard a thunderous CRACK and looked up. They tried to scramble away, but it was too late. The central support beam of the house disintegrated and the ceiling came tumbling down upon them. There were a few short screams, but they were abruptly cut off. When the dust settled, the Mayor could see a hand or two sticking out from under the flaming debris. He screamed.

And suddenly he was no longer strapped to the chair. The Mayor blinked a few times as he slowly grew aware to his new surroundings. The futuristic Hypnotron chamber was gone, as were his two hated captors. Instead, he found himself standing in the kitchen of an upper-middle-class home. The only other figure in the room was a woman, dressed all in black. He noticed his suit was also black. The woman’s head was bowed and her face was shrouded by a lace veil and buried in her hands.

“Excuse me,” he feebly said, after a moment. “Could you tell me where I am?”

At first the woman said nothing, but after a pause she turned her head his way. “How long do you sit Shiva for your first born?” she said, her voice heavy and grim. “How long do you mourn for the future? Seven days? Or is it longer?” The pain and sorrow in her voice made the Mayor take a step back, but he stopped when he bumped into something heavy behind him. Something that was not there before. Slowly he turned and saw that he had stumbled into a silver coffin with its lid closed. “It is the greatest tragedy of all for a mother to outlive her son.” The voice was right behind him, whispering in his ear.

The Mayor had no words. He recoiled from the coffin like it was radioactive. All he could do was softly babble an anemic “I’m so sorry…” But the woman paid him no heed and crept around to his front. He tried to take step back, away from her, but his feet wouldn’t obey him. Looking down, he saw that his ankles had become manacled in heavy, black, iron chains. Spikes extended out from them from random links. If he tried to move too recklessly, he would jab himself. The chains weighed him down with a force not of this world.

“Do you want to see?” the woman said, her voice leaden and hoarse. The mayor frantically shook his head and tried to slip away, but the chains on his ankles held him in place. “No? I’d think you’d be proud of what you’ve done! You’ve crushed your enemies. Trampled them beneath your boot!” Her voice turned from rage to sadness. “All he wanted to do was make art. Bring some beauty to the world. And you took that beauty from us. From everyone! But he is still beautiful to me. LOOK!!!!”

The woman reached down and lifted the lid of the coffin. Unable to look, the Mayor turned his face away and covered his face with his hands, but she was there, right in front of him. No matter which way he turned, she was there. The Mayor held up his hands in a gesture of warding, but she slapped them away. “No!” she cried, “You do not get to invoke a blessing against me! Against the grief only a mother can know! I will have my vengeance!” She pulled her veil away and the mayor recoiled in horror. Her face was shriveled and sunken. Deep lines of heavy tears ran down her cheeks. And in her eyes burned the very fires of Gehenna itself. She opened her mouth and an unearthly wail arose from her throat. From her gaping jaws a cloud of ravens erupted and spewed forth onto the Mayor. He held up his arms to shield his face and screamed. And suddenly she was gone, and the kitchen with her.

The Mayor frantically swatted away at the flock of ravens, but saw that they were gone, as well. He panted and groaned, trying to process what he had just seen. Where was he? What was happening? He felt a light breeze and realized he was now outside. Confused, he frantically looked this way and that, trying to take in his new surroundings. The ground was tightly packed dirt and he could smell charred flesh and leather all around. A thick haze of dust hung in the air. As his head cleared, he noticed the chains were still fettered around his ankles. He carefully took a few steps and found himself standing in the center of some sort of arena. Wooden walls encircled the central dirt area and crowds of seats rose up in all directions outside the perimeter. Seated in the stands were an army of skeletons in Western garb, staring at him with their sinister grins.

A great wailing siren split the air. The Mayor stood for a second, dumbfounded, but then he heard the thundering of hooves.

Racing toward him, mounted atop a colossal bull made of stone that sorted fire, was a rugged man in his late 30s. His eyes burned like a demon’s as he galloped forward, head down and teeth bared. Above his head, he twirled a lasso. A lasso made of barbed wire. “You took my boy from me!” he bellowed. “I lost my wife, I lost my career, and now I lose my child!” He released the lasso and it sailed through the empty air, encircling the Mayor’s torso before pulling tight. The Mayor’s arms were pressed flush against his sides and the barbs dug into his flesh. He cried out in bewilderment as the rider circled him on the giant bull, the trailing end of the lasso wrapping tighter around him with each pass. “He’s all I had in the world!” the rider grunted as he came to a stop at the end of his circling. By now the Mayor’s entire upper body was entombed in the black wire from biceps to ribs. He could feel the heat and the barbs of it through his black… suit? No, his funeral suit was gone. Now he was clad in black western gear: boots, jeans, duster, hat, the works. What was happening to him? Was the Doctor doing this?

The rider dismounted and strutted over to his catch like a champion hunter who had bagged a prize buck. The Mayor squirmed against his restraints, but to no avail. If he moved too much he would topple over and injure himself, so he stayed immobile as the rider approached with murder in his eyes. The rider took the end of the lasso and secured it though the bands. There was a flash of white heat and the wire had fused together, making an unbreakable seal. The Mayor’s hands stuck out from under the bottom of the wire band near his waist, but they could only flail around impotently, not able to get enough slack in the wire to maneuver. “Whassamatter, pardner?” the rider taunted. “Getting too hot for ya? Well it got plenty hot for those boys, didn’t it? My son and four others. Four others with people who loved them. And now they’re all gone. Thanks to you.”

The Mayor tried to protest, saying the fire wasn’t his intention, but the rider just punched him hard the face when he tried. “You may think it’s hot now, but it’s gone be plenty hot where you’re going!” Before the Mayor could react, the rider circled around behind him and raised his boot. He gave the captive Mayor a kick in the ass that send him sprawling forward. With his ankles still fettered, the Mayor couldn’t prevent himself from toppling over. He fell forward, bracing himself for impact against the dirt and the barbs, but that impact never came. He opened his eyes and felt himself gently drifting downward. Past where the floor should have been.

Even though he was falling slowly, he let out a scream. The path down was gentle and airy, but he still felt himself slowly floating down. Down. Down. Into a crack in the earth that had opened up in front of him, swallowing all light. Into the inky blackness he fell, until he finally came to rest on something soft. He had involuntarily flipped over in the air and had landed gently on his back. Beneath him, he felt some sort of thick cords cushioning him. Like the fibers of a cargo net. Relieved that his fall was over, the Mayor tried to sit up. But he found he couldn’t. It wasn’t because of the chains around his ankles or the wire that restrained his arms, but because something in the cords was adhering to his body. He was stuck!

Ignoring the pain from the barbs and spikes, the Mayor started wriggling like mad, trying to dislodge himself and sit up, but he couldn’t escape the sticky fibers. Every time he moved, bells connected to the cords somewhere in the expanse would softly jingle. A dreamy smell of incense filled the… cavern he was in. Craning his neck, he could see thick white cords crisscrossing the abyss and anchored to the walls. And nothing beneath him. He was caught in a web. But a web meant…

His musing was cut short as a woman approached him, walking across the cords like a dancer on a tightrope. She was dressed in flowing Bohemian garb, and was beautiful in an odd, quirky, unkempt way. But the mayor recoiled in horror as she extended her arms towards him as she approached. All six of them.

“Death is a natural part of life,” she said. “The beginning of the next phase of the Great Cycle.” Her bare feet picked up effortlessly from the sticky strands that entrapped the Mayor as she came ever closer. “When my husband died, I mourned of course. I was left with a child to raise on my own. And I wasn’t ready. But I also celebrated. Because my husband was moving on to something better. And he died by his own choices. The karma of his own actions. But my son didn’t get that, did he?” Her tone was lilting and sweet, but with a clear undertone of venom. “He crossed over as a result of someone else’s actions, not his own. I wasn’t prepared for single motherhood and made some bad mistakes. He’s already paid for those mistakes. And he had an entire life in front of him to make the right choices. But now that’s all gone. And that’s not fair, is it?”

By now she was scant inches from the Mayor’s face. Gazing at her he felt a terror rise in him unlike what the other two specters he had seen had invoked. His flesh turned white and he struggled to draw breath as she loomed ever closer. A sardonic smile came across her face and her lips pulled back, revealing long, needle-like teeth. “I could send you to join them with my venom,” she cooed, “and no one would ever know it wasn’t natural causes.” He could feel her putrid breath against his face. It smelled of rotten meat. “I could make this all go away. All the pain. All the guilt. But that is more than you deserve.” The Mayor tried to shout, but terror closed his throat and he could do nothing but feebly gasp. “Oh, do be quiet,” the woman said. She held out a finger from one of her myriad arms and pressed it against the Mayor’s lips. He watched in horror as white sticky silk flowed forth from her fingertip and began creeping across his face. He could feel the adhesive against his flesh as his lips and jaws were slowly and completely encased in the silky goo. He began to panic as it inched farther up his face, and filled his silently screaming mouth, but it stopped just short of his nose before the thread detached from her hand and sealed itself closed. He felt it hardening like cement.

“Your journey is almost complete,” she said. “But it’s better if you don’t speak. The next one doesn’t like backtalk.” She grinned her evil grin again as she stepped back and began to sever the threads that held the Mayor above the chasm below with talons that extended from her fingers. His eyes grew wide and he struggled like mad as the cords began to break, dipping him lower and lower into the abyss with each sickening snap. When he was suspended above the pit, dangling by a single thread around his ankles, he howled through his gag of webbing, but could do nothing to stop her from severing the final tether and send him careering downward.

With a stifled scream, the Mayor landed hard on the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, but he was mostly unhurt. Dazed, he took a quick look around to collect his bearings and calm himself. He was still restrained, but his clothing had changed again. It now was black and gray camouflage fatigues. His feet were inside combat boots, and a black t-shirt covered his torso beneath the wire that imprisoned his arms. He appeared to be in some kind of parade ground. Wooden walls and truck tires littered the dying grass all about and razor wire was stretched over muddy ruts in the ground in several places. Like a military training camp.

It took some effort for the mayor to roll himself over and rise to a standing position. His hands, although hobbled, were still nominally free and that gave him at least some leverage to push himself up. When he got to his feet and steadied himself as much as the manacles around his ankles would allow, he found himself starting into the face of a powerful, but cruel, looking man in his 50s. The man was dressed in military fatigues and carried a riding crop, which he ominously slapped against his leg impatiently.

“That took long enough, maggot!” he bellowed. A powerful SWAT cracked down across the Mayor’s back, sending him staggering forward. “That won’t do in this man’s army!”

“I never had to use the crop on my boy,” the man said. “He never gave me reason to. Good as gold, that one. I have eight… seven now. And he was the best of them. He managed to become a halfway decent person, even with all the damage I did to him. He was stronger than I ever could be.”

The Mayor grunted through the webbing, but all that got him was a SMACK across the knees, which sent him almost doubling over. “I didn’t give you permission to talk!” the man shouted. He grabbed the Mayor by the hair and pulled back as he circled around behind. The Mayor couldn’t resist as a rope was looped around his throat and pulled taught. He gurgled, but remained still out of fear of strangling himself. As he stood, he felt the man grab his hands and twist them behind his back, causing the barbs in the wire around his chest to dig in. He whined impotently as the man used the end of the rope dangling from his neck to fastidiously bind his hands. The Mayor found he was forced to exert constant effort to keep his hands up or else the rope around his throat would pull closed. But this caused the barbs to dig deeper into his flesh.

“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, eh?” the man asked, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “That’s like what those boys felt. They didn’t do a thing to you. Not one damned thing. But they paid the price. ‘Collateral damage’ is what we called it in the Corps. But it wasn’t right then and it isn’t right now. My boy knew to look out for the weak and helpless. To guard them and protect them. And he failed. Because of you. For the first and only time in his life, he failed. I’ll bet all he could think about is how disappointed I’d be!”

SMACK! The man rained down a heavy blow with the crop across the Mayor’s back. The impact caused him to relax his arms, which caused him to start choking. Immediately, he lifted his wrists to relieve the strain. But then another crack hit him.

“He died thinking I’m some sort of monster!” the man shouted. “An ogre who isn’t happy unless he’s being given tribute! And now I can never make that up to him! You took that away from me!” SMACK! SMACK! Blow after blow pummeled the Mayor from all sides. He tried to beg, to deny, to apologize, but the hardened webbing on his face only let out unintelligible grunts. He felt his stamina draining rapidly. If he dropped, he would strangle himself. But he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.

“I can see the end,” he thought. “I wonder if this is what they felt…” The Mayor felt a heavy sickness growing inside of him as the blows continued. Finally, he could stand no more. He winced and closed his eyes as the last SMACK hit his upper back. He stumbled forward, but did not fall. And the rope around his neck did not tighten. With his eyes closed, he felt a chill wind blow past him. Suddenly he realized that his boots were gone and felt fine grains of cold sand beneath his bare feet. As the chill from the wind increased, he realized that all his clothing was gone. When he opened his eyes, the Mayor saw he was naked in a featureless desert, with cold gray sand stretching out in all directions.

Still fully restrained and gripped with the new terror of isolation, the Mayor tried to grunt and shout through the webbing that sealed his mouth. Desperate to get some response. Some sign of another person. But all he heard was the echo of his own stifled voice. The bonds on his wrists tightened of their own accord in response, causing him to yelp in pain. After he stood still for a moment, the constricting subsided. The Mayor let out a sigh of relief, but cut it off before the cords on his wrists tightened again.

Just then, over the horizon, he saw a faint plume of smoke rising into the air and a tiny glow of light. Someone else was here! The Mayor began to hobble forward, his progress slow and uneasy from the ankle chains and the tight wire around his body. But he fought on, slowly making his way up and down the dunes until he saw the light of a small campfire ahead.

Kneeling down at the campfire was a boy of about 18 or 19. He was scrawny and thin, with a ridiculous Mohawk haircut. The Mayor could only see his back, but even so, he could feel something eerie about him. The boy was clad in simple jeans and a white t-shirt, but they were scorched black and charred.

Strewn around the sand by the fire were… faces. Disembodied faces of all kinds. Some happy, some sad, some male, some female, some with facial hair, some with piercings. All cast off in the sand and discarded. Nearby was a crate full to the brim with more. “Which one of them is for me?” the boy said, not turning around. The Mayor tried to move closer, but found he was frozen to the spot. “The others knew who they were,” the boy continued, “but not me. I was still trying to figure that out.” He picked up a face and held it up. The Mayor could see it over the boy’s shoulder. It had a cocky, confident smirk. He turned it around a few times in his hand and then tossed it aside. “And now I’ll never get that chance. Doomed to be a shade. A nobody. Forever. Do you know what this place is?”

The Mayor stood aghast. With all that was going on, he hadn’t stopped to think much about his situation. Just how he could escape it. The hairs on his neck stood up as his mind started processing an idea.

“The Church discarded the concept of Limbo decades ago, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” the boy said sadly. “We are in the Gray Waste. A stark land of nothingness where those who have not yet found themselves are confined until they know who they are. But there’s a catch. The dead can’t learn. So it’s as much a prison as any cell.”

The boy rose and turned to face the Mayor. He had no face. The Mayor had expected that, but he thought he would see just a featureless head. Instead he saw a gaping hole where a face should be. A hole of indescribable blackness. Swirling around it was a miasma of colors, some visible, some not. But the Mayor could still see them all. It was like looking into the center of a Black Hole. The mayor recoiled in terror, but the cords around his wrists and torso tightened again. He was paralyzed as waves of agony rippled through him.

“And the worst part is I was getting close,” the boy said. “So close. But you took that from me. You and your ‘soldiers.’ So now I am here forever… and so are you.” The boy reached up and touched the webbing around the Mayor’s mouth, which disintegrated into fine dust and drifted away in the wind. “Was it worth it?” the boy asked. “Was your quest for vengeance worth the deaths of five kids? Were we ‘acceptable losses?’”

The Mayor couldn’t respond. Tears welled up in his eyes and he began to babble. “I’m… so sorry…”

“You are here because you lost yourself in your mad plan,” the boy said. “But you can still make it right. There is still hope for you. Small as it is. But not for me.” He picked up another face, looked at it for a moment, and tossed it aside. “Not for any of us. We are dead and it’s all YOUR FAULT!”

The boy’s somber demeanor changed in an instant. He picked up a snarling, demonic face and placed it over the Black Hole. It took a second, but then it conformed to his head seamlessly. “We tasted the fire. YOUR fire. And now you will feel the fires of your own making!” The Mayor felt unimaginable heat welling up behind him and a putrid smell.

“NO!” is all he could say before the demon boy shoved him backwards into the rising flames.

---

Strapped to the Hypnotron chair, the Mayor’s heart rate was off the charts. Nearly 180 beats per minute. Queer Eye touched the Doctor on the arm. “I think that’s enough,” he said. “Any more and you’ll kill him. I think he’s learned what he needed to.” He indicated the brainwave readout on the screen that was flaring up like the Fourth of July.

“It’s what he deserves,” the Doctor scoffed. “But you’re right. I made a promise.” He broke away and powered down the machine. As the lights slowly flickered out and the whirring components slowed and stilled, the Mayor gasped for breath. He was soaked with sweat and his face covered in dried drool. Welts had developed on his wrists from his struggles against the straps and he looked 10 years older. When the Doctor removed the Hypnotron visor, the Mayor didn’t have the strength to hold his head up anymore. He slumped down in the chair like a dead man.

“I killed them. I killed them….”

Coming Soon: Conflagration Conclusion – Thank You for Your Support
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Post by Volobond »

Whew... that was intense, but no more than what the Mayor deserves. Perhaps this is the jolt he needs...
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Post by gag1195 »

Holy moly! That was... intense... cinematic... amazing... powerful... just wow! This chapter deserves a standing ovation!

Also, I agree with [mention]Volobond[/mention]. The good Doctor clearly wanted the mayor to see a specific set of events, but I suspect a certain hero did arrive just in time! But of course, we'll just have to wait and see what the aftermath is!
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Post by Guardianbound »

This is worth the wait, beautifully written. I also hope that Diesel made it in time to save the pledges. Bringing all the parents in to build up the mayor's guilt is very clever
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

Things may look bleak, but just trust me...

Okay, okay...This was some pretty edge-of-your-seat reading, [mention]wataru14[/mention].

But something tells me Dr. Calamity and QueerEye are screwing with the Mayor. ;)

They're too kind! I say freeze-dry and mummify him for a millennium! :twisted: :twisted: :twisted:
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Post by george_bound »

Wow oh wow! That was amazing, intense, beautifully written, a masterpiece in itself. Absolutely admire the seamless weaving of all the families in scenes reminiscent of A Christmas Carol. Looking forward to where you're taking us... I vividly remember the intense ending of Dr Calamity and the raw emotions it laid bare; you're definitely sending us in that direction with this tale as well! Absolutely amazing!
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Conflagration Conclusion: Thank You for Your Support

The scene outside the flaming TUG house was utter chaos. Fire trucks were feverishly spraying the structure, trying to stop the inferno, but it was too far along. All their efforts accomplished was adding a plume of steam to the billowing smoke rising up from the house. When the third floor collapsed, the police had to move the perimeter back and evacuate the neighboring houses for safety. A huge crowd had gathered at the ends of the street to watch, including the entirety of DIX, who stood on their front lawn across the street with a mixture of shock and pride.

“What the fuck happened?” Travis exclaimed, grabbing Clay by the arm and spinning him around.

“The final stage of the plan,” Clay said happily, taking a chug from his celebratory beer. “We destroyed their image, we destroyed their pride, and now we destroyed their house!”

“You PLANNED this?” Travis gasped.

“The Mayor did,” Clay said, “but keep that quiet. There are cops around. And relax. Our little parade drew everyone out. There was no one inside.”

Travis took a step back, shaking his head. He tried to form words to verbalize his disgust, but he just couldn’t. Clay just smirked and turned back to watch the show unfolding across the street. He had never wanted this. Sure, part of him wanted revenge on TUG for the Spy business, but was that it? And did he really want revenge or was that just what he had told Clay to save face? He had adamantly volunteered for that job, knowing full well what could happen. Everyone thought he was just trying to make himself stand out among the other pledges, but part of him wanted… no. Not right now. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Travis looked over at the TUG brothers gathered behind the barricade.

A police officer he recognized, Officer Santucci, was standing behind Hoss, doing everything he could to hold the big man back. Hoss was attempting to rush the barricade and storm into the house, and the burly officer was doing everything he could to prevent that. Santucci was big and strong, but not in Hoss’ class. He was managing for the moment, but there was no way he could keep that up forever. Hoss was too mad and too strong. Still clad only in his leather pants and riding boots, Hoss was a vision of might and rage distilled into a human frame. Even with Santucci grabbing him in a bearhug and pulling him backwards, Hoss was making headway for the barrier. Santucci whistled for help and three more officers descended on the pair, wrestling Hoss to the ground. In a manner of seconds, Hoss was face-down on the sidewalk, his mammoth hands being cuffed behind his back and his ankles being manacled by leg irons.

“Stay put!” Santucci said, wiping the sweat of exertion from his brow. “It’s too dangerous. I can’t have civilians running in there half-cocked when even the fire department won’t even go in. You’ll never make it out. Just sit tight and we’ll handle this.”

The other Seniors enveloped the four officers, pleading and trying to explain that there were five people inside, but the noise and the chaos made them unable to be heard. Finally, Sergeant Gonzalez, who was in charge of the police detachment, had finally reached his tolerance limit and nodded to the other officers. Shortly after, the four remaining Seniors were seated on the curb next to Hoss, hands restrained behind their backs with plastic riot cuffs. They tried to beg and explain, but Gonzalez had enough. He grabbed a role of duct tape from his patrol car and with a sickening squlech, each of the five Senior's mouths was sealed away. Tape was wrapped fully around their heads several times, assuring that no further outbursts were possible. Satisfied that the Seniors were safely out of the way, the officers went back to crowd control.

Travis watched with curiosity. Why were they so frantic to get in there? It was just a house. Just stuff. Brett had enough money to replace everything in there twice over and they had to be insured against fire. He knew DIX certainly was. But there was something else going on. There was a look of heartwrenching fear and agony on the faces of all 15 TUG members. Wait? 15? There were 20 of them. Just then Travis realized the Pledges weren’t there. “Come to think of it,” he thought, “they weren’t at the Quad, either. None of them. I haven’t seen any of them since…” Travis stopped, his face turning white. “Oh shit!” he thought. “No, it can’t be!” Travis turned and ran back into the DIX house like a bullet.

---

It was almost impossible to see anything in the basement now. Acrid black smoke was everywhere and the primitive firebreak wasn’t helping keep it at bay. Nate and Mason were barely conscious. “Stay with me!” Ray screamed at Mason, slapping him gently on the cheek a few times to keep him awake. Mason could barely hold on. His Constitution was poor, even at the best of times, and he didn’t have the endurance to keep going much longer. He could barely breathe.

“I just… want to say… I love you guys,” Mason coughed.

Ray held his best friend close, his eyes beginning to tear. “Don’t talk, bro,” he said quaveringly. “Save your strength. You’ll need it to get out once the firemen get here.” The others grouped in close, seeking to make some kind of physical contact. Grab his hand. Touch his shoulder. Anything to get that closeness and make the inevitable end easier on Mason. Mason smiled and tried to chuckle, but it turned into a hacking cough. Ray just held him even tighter. “When this is all over I promise I’ll spend more time with you. Maybe even go to that skate park you like so much. Meet your new friends…” He was about to say more when there was a thunderous crash from above.

---

Travis bolted down the driveway of the DIX House and ran past the others without looking back. Several of the guys were curious as to why he wanted to get closer and moved to stop him, but Clay waved them off. “Let him go,” he said. “He wants to see it up close? Let him.” But Travis wasn’t running to watch. He reached the rear of the crowd and forced his way through, drawing a series of “hey, asshole!” and “watch it!” from the onlookers. Something was clenched tightly in his hand. When he made it to the front end of the barrier, the 10 unfettered TUG brothers got in his way.

“What the hell do YOU want?” Omar said, crossing his arms menacingly over his chest. “Come to gloat?” Jaquan and Brandon moved beside him.

“No!” Travis cried. “I’m here to help! You have to let me past!”

“Oh, we do?” Jean-Marc said, shoving Travis backward. “DIX asshole. It’s because of you guys that…” But he didn’t get to finish his admonishment. Trey rushed forward and socked Travis hard in the chin with his fist. And then they were all on him. Seeing one of their own being assaulted from across the street, the rest of DIX surged forward and rushed the crowd. Travis tried to evade the mass of bodies determined to take their helpless anger out on him, but he was trapped. As the police came over to break up the brawl, Travis had no choice. He had to do his Hail Mary play. Just before Omar tackled him to the ground, Travis hurled the object in his hand in an upward arc. Something small and metallic sailed through the air unnoticed by anyone and landed at Brett’s side with a tiny clink. Travis could only hope Brett heard it as he was pummeled by swinging fists.

As the officers moved in to separate and restrain the combatants, Brett looked down to see what Travis had thrown. Lying on the curb beside him, between him and Danny, was a small ring of handcuff keys. Brett quickly shimmied over and scooped up the keys in his bound hands. The police were distracted by the growing melee, but he couldn’t risk one seeing him. He fiddled with the keys, trying to get one into a usable position with his hands behind his back. A difficult task, but one a skilled TUG Active could do in his sleep. Clutching the key in his fingers, he nodded at Danny, who slid over back-to-back with him. Brett carefully inserted the key into the lock box on Danny’s riot cuffs and turned it. The lock disengaged and Danny carefully slipped his wrists free, making sure not to draw attention. No one would be looking at them with a full-scale brawl about to go down 10 feet away, but he had to be sure. Once his hands were free, he took the keys and unlocked Brett’s cuffs. Then each took a key from the ring and went to work freeing Scott and Shane.

Between the mass of punches being thrown, Santucci had his work cut out for him. He had managed to get Travis clear and tossed him back into the approaching throng of DIX, and now he and the other officers were hard at work subduing the rest of TUG. Traumatic situation or not, they did assault someone. And things had to be de-escalated before DIX decided to wade in and the situation became too much for the four officers to control. The approaching mass of DIX muscle stopped when Travis trudged back over to them, nursing what would become a serious black eye, and seemed downright happy when they saw Trey and Omar getting handcuffed. One by one, the 15 Brothers were secured in riot cuffs and pushed down into a kneeling position on the lawn of the frat house next door. Even the normally calm Gavin and Pablo had joined the fray and were being restrained. Satisfied seeing this, DIX en masse, turned and headed back to their house with Travis in tow.

Santucci had just finished cuffing Luis, and was about to secure Bryan, when he looked up to check on the Seniors. Just a quick glance to make sure everything was OK. He saw Brett and Danny, fully free, unlocking the cuffs on Shane and Scott and the four quietly moving towards Hoss with keys in hand. Brett made eye contact with Santucci and the two locked eyes. Santucci was about to call out to Gonzalez for assistance, but something in Brett’s eyes made him stop. There was a deep, pleading desperation in Brett’s gaze that drilled right to the core of Santucci’s soul. He saw Hoss, red-faced and screaming “NATE!!!!!” through his tapegag while lying face-first on the curb. Wracked with indecision, Santucci was too distracted to see the white flash erupt across the sky and pierce through the smoke like a bullet.

“I’ll probably get canned for this,” Santucci thought, “but fuck it. I just can’t stop them. Good luck, boys.” He gave Brett a slow nod and turned away to bring Bryan’s hands behind his back and secure them with his riot cuffs. Brett and Shane used their keys to unlock Hoss’ manacles and the five were off like a shot, skirting the barricade and racing to the backyard, pulling their tapegags down and leaving them hanging around their necks. Gonzalez saw them run and cried out to the other officers, but they didn’t dare move closer as jets of flame shot out from the lower-floor windows, barely missing Shane and Danny as they ran around the side of the house. “It’s all up to you five now,” Santucci thought as Gonzalez stormed over to him in a rage.

---

The jabbering, incoherent shell of the Mayor was dropped off on the steps of City Hall. Passersby noticed him get out of a car of some sort, but couldn’t for the life of them describe what it looked like. Even the security cameras seemed to glitch out when they were later examined. When he managed to pull himself together after a few moments and smooth out his disheveled hair and suit, the Mayor strode into the rotunda and immediately called a press conference. Most people thought it was going to be a statement about the University Fire, and eagerly awaited the City’s official response. And they were right, in a way.

“Effective immediately,” he said into the microphones, amid frantic camera flashes, “I am stepping down as Mayor of Metro City. I am directly responsible for the University fire and will be remanding myself into police custody at the conclusion of this address. While I didn’t set the fire with my own hand, I was behind its planning and it was set under my direction. An old rivalry escalated to an unforgivable level and five boys paid the ultimate price for my folly. I can never make up for the damage I caused, but I hope that this will give those five families a small bit of closure. Thank you for your support over the years and I wish you all the best.”

And with that, the Mayor switched off the microphone and walked over to City Hall security with his hands extended in front of him. There was a flurry of activity from the assembled press as the cuffs went on, but everyone was thinking the same thing: “Five boys? What five boys?”

---

The five Seniors rounded the corner of the backyard, panting and gasping. They had run as fast as they could, unsure if they were being pursued. Shane and Danny had a few singe marks on their clothes, but were unhurt. Realizing the coast was clear, they bounded over debris until they reached the cellar door.

“Fuck!” Scott said, grabbing his head in despair. Mountains of broken furniture, cinder blocks, and fallen flaming wood covered the door. It would take forever to get it clear. “What are we going to do?”

Hoss turned and bolted for the tool shed. While the others stood aghast, he returned at full speed, holding a sledgehammer and bellowing like Thor himself. “Nate’s in there!” he screamed as the other four split to get out of his way. Hoss swung the hammer high and brought it crashing down on the door with all his rage-fueled might. With a thunderous CLUNK the bar holding the door closed snapped and it caved in under the weight of the debris, sending flaming detritus tumbling down the now-clear stairs and into the basement.

Shane reached forward and grabbed Hoss, yanking him clear of the door as a jet of heat and smoke came rocketing out the opening, forced out by the change in air pressure. It came a scant few inches from searing Hoss’ flesh. “Careful, buddy!” he said, picking Hoss up off the singed grass. “We almost had barbecued equine for dinner tonight! And I hear that meat is far too stringy.” He slapped Hoss on the back as the five raced down the stairs, sidestepping debris as they went.

The five Pledges jumped when they heard the bang and blinked as they saw a dim gray light flooding the room from the now-open cellar door. All of them gasped for breath as the smoke went whooshing past them out the opening. But they knew it was only a temporary respite. Once the pressure equalized, more smoke would flood over them again. Mason was barely hanging on. “Look!” Ray said, frantically shaking him to keep him conscious, “They’re here! We’re gonna get through this! Stay with me!!!”

“Shit!” Leo shouted, pointing up. “LOOK!” The rescue was too late. The central support beam had snapped a while ago, but the upper floor had still held together somehow. But now it had taken all the strain it could. Flames burned through the ceiling and heavy cracks began to form. Plaster began to crumble and flake off before, with a terrible rumble, the ceiling split and fell.

A brilliant flash of white light smashed through the wall and hovered in the air above the five Pledges. Cody thought it was an angel. But it wasn’t. Well, not exactly. Floating in the air was Diesel in all his glory, bathed in a white aura and holding up the mass of debris with his arms and shoulders like a red-white-and-blue Atlas. The load was massive, containing the remnants of all three floors at once. Even with his colossal strength, he was having a time keeping it balanced and together. “Get them out of here!” he shouted at the Seniors. “I can’t hold this forever!”

All five raced down the stairs and across the room, keys in hand. Diesel dipped a little lower in the air as the strain of his load weighed on him. “You always said I’m focusing too much on durability and stamina,” he thought. “Don’t see you complaining about that in the bedroom, but you keep telling me that I should increase my strength limits. I always said ‘I’m plenty strong enough,’ but now I see why you said that.”

Mason was unchained first and Danny scooped him up in a bridal carry and bolted for the exit while Shane got to freeing Ray. “Stay with me, Little Bro!” Danny said, quickly laying Mason on a clear patch of grass and checking his breathing. Mason was hacking like mad, and trembling, but he’d be OK if he got treatment soon. “We need to get you to a hospital, but you’re going to make it!” Danny grabbed Mason and hugged him close. “I always got your back, Little Bro.” Mason coughed and grabbed Danny close with what little strength he had.

Shane and Scott had managed to release Ray and Cody, who were in good enough shape to make it out on their own. But Nate and Leo, whose endurance wasn’t as good as theirs, would need help. When their chains were removed, they would need to be held up and helped along while a path to the door was cleared. But just then, a piece of flaming timber came loose from Diesel’s grip. If he reached for it, he would lose his hold on the main ball of debris and it would come crashing down on them all. It was headed straight for Nate, who was still in the process of being unchained by Hoss.

Hoss roared into action. He shoved Brett out of the way and knocked Nate to the floor. He dove over the diminutive Freshman and formed a shield over him. Hoss let out a cry of pain as the timber came down hard on his back with a sickening smash. There was a putrid smell of burning flesh as Shane and Cody kicked it off him. Brett, Scott, and Ray pulled Nate out and got both him and Leo to safety.

The skin on Hoss’ back was blistered and charred, and he howled in pain. His upper body was still bare, so there wasn’t even the feeble insulation of a shirt to protect him. “Shit, that looks bad!” Shane said, unable to keep his poker face at the sight of it as he helped Hoss to his feet. He and Cody supported him as they hurried for the exit.

“Couldn’t let it… hurt Nate…” Hoss mumbled through the pain. He was rapidly losing consciousness and if he went out, Shane and Cody alone wouldn’t be able to drag him up the stairs. But Fate was kind this day and Hoss managed to hold on long enough to make it outside before passing out. The others dragged him over to the grass on his stomach to where Danny sat with Mason.

“Shit, that’s serious,” Danny said, inspecting Hoss’ burns. “We need to get them both to the hospital. And you four others, too. No backtalk!”

“Ray,” Brett said. “You and Danny are the strongest. The three of us will carry Hoss together. Gently! Cody, you get Mason. Shane, call Santucci and tell him to get ambulances ready.” Following Brett’s instructions, the group hurried around the corner towards the front. When they were fully clear of the house, Diesel rocketed upwards. The remaining structure caved in on itself, sending a cloud of flaming dust into the air. To keep it from spreading, Diesel flew in a clockwise direction around the pit, collecting the smoke and debris into a single column, which then collapsed harmlessly back into the basement. He landed in front of the throng of onlookers, who stopped and stared in awe as Santucci and the paramedics raced alongside the house to meet the emerging group.

When the dust cleared, all five Pledges and Hoss were swarmed by paramedics. Seeing the smoke-blackened Pledges emerging from the yard, followed by Diesel’s triumphant emergence from the wreckage, was the cause of much concern among DIX. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone inside. Clay got a sinking feeling in his gut and rang the Mayor on his phone, but didn’t get an answer. He called an emergency meeting in the house and summoned everyone inside. All of the Brothers went in immediately… except for Travis. Once he was sure the others had gone, he made his way back across the street toward the destroyed TUG house.

Santucci was in the process of uncuffing the other 10 TUG Brothers when Travis arrived. He had gotten reamed by Gonzalez for the Seniors’ escape, but he said that one of them must have had a handcuff key stashed on them somewhere. He was restraining them for their safety, not doing an arrest patdown. Knowing TUG, stashed keys was always a possibility. Gonzalez grudgingly accepted that, but Santucci was still a little on edge as he released the others.

Travis’ approach drew much ire from the Brothers, but they kept their distance with the police around. No one wanted to go to jail while they had two Brothers in need of serious medical attention. But they still snarled and taunted Travis as he drew closer. Brett stood up after giving his statement to Gonzalez and walked over to Travis, who stood with his head down. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am,” he stammered. “I had no idea they were planning this. I never thought that…”

“It’s OK,” Brett said, putting his hand on Travis’ shoulder. “You came over to help us at great personal risk. I know that. Even when my boys were trying to beat you up, you took the time to toss us that key. That takes a lot of heart. We’d never have been able to save them without your help.”

“But Diesel…” Travis said.

“I couldn’t have done it myself,” Diesel said, joining the pair. “I could have held the ceiling up, sure, but I couldn’t have freed the boys and done that at the same time. Eventually the fire would have got them. I would have dropped the ceiling if I tried to do anything. Without your help, those boys wouldn’t have been able to save their friends. You’re a hero, Travis.”

Hearing that knocked the other TUG Brothers for quite the loop. None of them had even considered that Travis had come to help. Most looked down in shame at their recklessness. “You’re a good person,” Brett said. “And it’s a shame your Brothers don’t see that. Even with the bad blood between our squads, I’m proud to call you a friend.”

Travis looked over at the ambulance, where Ray had climbed in beside Mason’s gurney. “Will they be OK?” he asked. “Mason and Hoss, I mean. They looked pretty bad.”

“Danny said they’ll pull through,” Brett said. “But there will be lasting effects. Hoss is tough but he’ll probably have scarring for the rest of his life. But I don’t think he minds that. He always said scars are badass. Mason will probably be out of commission for a while, but Danny says there probably isn’t permanent lung damage. The doctors will gave to check on that, but the smoke inhalation wasn’t at critical just yet. But it would have been if not for you. The others might have pulled through, but Mason is only still here because of what you did.” Brett pulled Travis in for a hug. The DIX Pledge didn’t know what to say.

When Brett released his embrace, he whispered something to Diesel, who flew off and dove into the steaming rubble. He emerged a short time later carrying the large safe that had crashed through the basement ceiling. “The archive is in a fireproof safe,” Brett said, “so everything inside should be intact.” Diesel blew on the safe to cool it down enough for Brett to enter the combination. He opened the door and took out a manila envelope and a small jewelry box from among the papers and objects inside. “These are for you,” he said, handing them to Travis. Inside the envelope were all the old photos of Chaz from back in the 50s. The originals and the negatives. And in the jewelry box was… “Is this what I think it is?” he stammered as he picked up the DIX Founder’s Pin.

“Yes,” Brett said. “Danny got confirmation from Professor Mills this afternoon. With all that happened, we didn’t get the chance to tell anyone. It’s the genuine article. Take those back to your House with you. Let’s hope that it can bury the hatchet and end this.”

“Yo, boss man,” Trey said, stepping forward. “End this? No way we’re gonna let this slide. Six of our homies almost died because of these fools and you’re just gonna wash your hands of it?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Brett said coldly. He summoned the full power of his station, and even used the ring to augment it. He wasn’t supposed to use it wantonly, but this was a major turning point. “This insanity has to end somewhere and it’s going to end with us. DIX was put up to this by the Mayor, who should be taking the fall as we speak. There will be no retaliation and no further hostilities from our end. This shit is over. Permanently.” Trey stood cowed for a moment and then stepped back into the group. Diesel nodded happily before launching himself into the air and flying off. His com had just alerted him to the Mayor’s statement and he would have some major damage control to undertake at Hero League HQ.

Travis had never seen Brett in this mode before and he was more than a little curious. But he thought it best not to push his luck any further. Without another word, he turned and headed back to the DIX House.

“Now as for us,” Brett said to the group, “It looks like we’re homeless for a while. The National Chapter will pay for the rebuilding, not to mention we have several rich alums who will foot the bill for what insurance doesn’t cover. But in the meantime, I’ll rent some places for any of us who can’t find somewhere to stay off-campus. Official activities will be suspended until HQ is rebuilt, which could take a while. But I think everyone deserves a rest. All our clothes and personal effects are gone, though. Sorry to say. But those can all be replaced.” He looked after the ambulances as they pulled away, sirens blaring. “THEY can’t be.”

Santucci came over and stood next to Brett as Gonzalez and the other three officers headed for the DIX House. “We’ll need statements from all of you,” he said. “After that, we can drive you all anywhere you want. If anyone needs a place to crash, I’ve got a couch someone can use for a few days until Brett manages to get the new temporary place.”

“It’s been a long day,” Brett said. “The Seniors and I will go to the hospital to watch over the others. The rest of you have to stay for now. The hospital won’t let so many visitors in at once. Jaquan, you are Junior Class President. I place you in charge of the group until Danny and I get back. Contact the parents and fill them in. Help with travel arrangements if they need it.” Brett handed Jaquan his black American Express card. “You know what parts to leave out, I trust?” Brett pointed at his ankle. Jaquan nodded and ushered the Underclassmen away to make their statements to the police as the four seniors got into Santucci’s patrol cruiser for the trip to the hospital.

“Um, does anybody have an extra shirt?” Scott asked sheepishly.

Coming Soon: Rebuilding – Chapter 1: A Melting
Last edited by wataru14 1 year ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by gag1195 »

I really don't know what to say about this amazing conclusion to the arc! There was a moment where I really thought someone wouldn't make it out! I appreciate how well things came together, especially the characters. This really was a culmination for quite a few characters, and was so satisfying to see! I'm not sure where you plan to take this story from here, but I'm excited to see what else happens to this frat.... oh and the halloween costumes!
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Post by wataru14 »

Halloween will be in the next block. As will the auction... :twisted:
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Post by gag1195 »

wataru14 wrote: 1 year ago Halloween will be in the next block. As will the auction... :twisted:
I forgot all about the Auction! Oh my yes, lots to look forward to then! Can't wait!
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

[mention]wataru14[/mention], you never disappoint!

An amazing tale...some harrowing moments...but sparks flew!!!

Looking forward to Halloween and the auction!
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Post by blackbound »

I wonder if DIX are going to accept the peace offering. Let's hope so for everyone's sake.
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Post by Volobond »

I was on the edge of my seat the whole way through! Even if I feel bad for the boys, I think it's really cool that you've had lasting consequences for what happened. Also definitely interesting to see 15 boys restrained and quite a few tapegagged!

I'm hoping Travis can take back the documents and pin and lead a coup to take over DIX and guide it away from the douchebaggery and shittiness. Perhaps an alliance between the frats? Or at least the end of the macho posturing that helps no one.

I'm definitely glad the story isn't over, but also just... I need a second to process your storytelling skill, [mention]wataru14[/mention]! I'm thrilled and excited to be a reader!
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Post by Guardianbound »

Was worried for the boys during that action-packed sequence. Diesel with stamina and strength... The advisor better be careful what he wishes for. Can't wait for all the costumes that you'll come up with for Halloween.
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Post by george_bound »

Wow oh wow that was an amazing conclusion to this part! I felt bad for the TUG boys but have to admit I enjoyed the unexpected restraint scene complete with 15 sets of plastic cuffs and wraparound tape gags. 8-) Travis showed his true colours and Diesel... well Diesel :P

Now on to the auction... :twisted:
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Post by wataru14 »


Rebuilding Chapter 1: A Melting

Ray took off from classes for the entire week. He refused to leave Mason’s bedside. Normally that wouldn’t be allowed since they weren’t family, but the advisor had worked his magic to get that done before he jetted off to his extended sabbatical in Bora Bora. The smoke inhalation was more serious than Danny had originally thought and Mason would need to be on oxygen for a week in the hospital and at least an additional week once he was released. Possibly longer. He got to the hospital just in time to prevent permanent lung damage, but it was damn close. And Ray blamed himself. He knew it was stupid, but he felt like he failed Mason and he had to make it up in some small way.

Ray, himself, and the other Pledges only had minor injuries and were released from the hospital the following day. Hoss, however, was going to be out of commission for a while. The burning on his back was pretty severe and he needed grafts. No heavy lifting for an extended period and he would need help with even routine tasks until he healed. But Nate and Scott were all ready to help out. The big man wouldn’t have to lift a finger until everything was normal. And he was actually proud of his wounds. Called them “battle scars.” Still, Nate spent all his spare time at Hoss’ side, sketching out some tattoo ideas for Hoss to cover the scars with.

The Ben Davids nearly had simultaneous heart attacks when they saw the news report on TV and were already halfway to campus when Jaquan called. The other parents were unaware of the fire, but immediately made plans to travel when they heard. Hoss’ parents were on an incoming flight at the moment, so the Ben Davids had set up camp in his room across the hall as soon as they arrived. Nate told them that he and Hoss were a couple, making sure to leave out all the sordid parts, of course. It was a shock to them, but they accepted it without question.

“If my son cares about you that much,” Mrs. Ben David said to Hoss, who was suspended in a harness above his bed so the flesh on his back could heal without irritation, “then that’s good enough for me. You’re one of the family, now… Hoss. Um, what’s your real name again?” Hoss just gave a labored groan in response.

“That’s a rather sore subject,” Nate chuckled. “Hoss will do fine.”

“Then Hoss it is,” Mrs. Ben David said with a smile. “Here, have some lekach. Honey cake for a sweet year to come. You’ll have some more when you come to our house for the High Holy Days. But for now, you’ll need it to build up your strength. No arguments, now! Eat up!”

The Major, once he was certain that his own son was OK, went to Mason’s bedside. “You’re one tough sumbitch, ain’t ya?” he joked, clapping Mason on the shoulder. Mason was puzzled. The Major had never praised him like that before. “I never complimented you before, but a man must admit when he’s wrong. We do smoke drills in the Corps and let me tell you that there are seasoned Marines that couldn’t take what you did. You’ve got a lot of heart and it’s a damn shame people don’t tell you that enough.” Mason was floored. And even more so when the Major saluted him.

Mason’s parents arrived a few hours later. A meek and tired-looking young couple, they raced into the room and tearfully enveloped him as soon as they arrived. Ray scolded himself for being surprised. They couldn’t NOT come after something like this. They were distant, but not maliciously neglectful, after all. They didn’t ignore him because they wanted to, just because they had long work hours and he was self-sufficient enough to function without them. “The curse of being an overachiever,” Mason had joked. They stayed for the entire time he was in the hospital, put up in a nearby hotel by Brett, but had left when Mason was discharged and cleared to go back to class.

After Mason was discharged, things had settled back into a semblance of normalcy. Clay had contacted Brett to give his glaringly insincere condolences. There was still grumbling about Brett’s decree of non-revenge from the TUG Brothers, but no one dared cross that line. Clay had validated that the pin was real and the two presidents worked out a “peace settlement.” There would always be bad blood between the groups, but no more open hostilities. Danny, in particular, was upset that DIX would face no disciplinary action for the fire, but under the now-repealed University Autonomy Law, they weren’t responsible. Hoss explained the legalese, but no one liked it. The Mayor plead guilty to arson conspiracy and attempted murder charges and waived his right to trial. He was taking the fall completely. That wasn’t enough for most of the Brothers, but it would have to do. The Mayor was also paying for both Hoss and Mason’s medical treatments. Small consolation, most thought, but at least it was something.

The first time Ray left Mason’s side was the second day after release. He had been excused from the film shooting for the week due to extenuating circumstances, but if he didn’t go in tonight they would be forced to recast. And Mason wouldn’t allow that. Shane assured Ray that Mason could go without him for one evening. The other three Pledges would keep him company while Ray went to set. So, after checking for the millionth time that Mason had everything he needed, and that his oxygen tank was full and working properly, Ray collected his day bag and headed out.

They were doing the prison camp scene tonight, and it was being shot in an abandoned factory off campus that the university owned. During the summer, it was used as a paintball pitch, but didn’t see much use in the fall and winter. The film department used it extensively, though. So much so that professors groaned every time they saw it. But in this case it was unavoidable as it was the only structure in the area that could be used for a prison. And it was disguised by set dressing enough to not be obvious. Ray went over his lines mentally as he drove Shane’s car to the location. His mind was elsewhere but he would need to focus, especially considering that most of his scenes were with Travis today.

---

A makeshift makeup station had been set up in the old break room of the factory. The debris and litter had been cleared away, but the walls were covered in graffiti. Signatures and scribbled graphics from years of paintball players who had come and gone. Nate would have taken pictures, but Ray didn’t pay them much notice. The electricity worked, but the heat didn’t, and Ray was too busy fighting off the chill to notice the decorations. His costume for the day consisted of his combat boots, his fatigue pants, and an olive drab bandana folded into a headband. No shirt. It made sense since he was a prisoner, but it was still early October and not weather for bare skin.

But the temperature wasn’t the only source of coldness in the room. As Ray sat in the chair, having bruises and cuts applied to him by the makeup techs, he shot furtive glances at Travis in the chair nearby. The DIX freshman was having his growing black eye covered over and looking at Ray with a doleful, remorseful expression. He had tried to talk to Ray earlier, to apologize and express his sympathies, but Ray wasn’t having it. “You and I have nothing to say to each other unless it’s on the page,” he grunted before turning his chair to face the other way. Travis had gotten the message quite clearly and realized further attempts to communicate would not be wise.

Everyone was treating him differently now, Travis noticed. There was talk that the fire was set on purpose, and DIX was now perceived as rather villainous by the student body. People were avoiding him. Whispering. Some of the talking heads and activist types were calling for DIX’s disbanding. Some even went so far as to advocate dismantling the whole Greek system. When the new law was repealed, that seemed to satisfy a lot of them, but there were some that were still out for blood. Meanwhile, the displaced members of TUG were reaping in the sympathy. Many of them had been given offers of free temporary housing and the other frats and sororities had donated clothing and basic necessities. Even though they had lost everything, they still gained quite a lot.

After his makeup was done and he was dirty and bruised enough, Ray got up from the chair and walked past Travis without looking. His first scene was in the yard, but the day’s shooting would culminate in the dreaded “torture” scene. Shane had been working with him on what to expect and how to resist it if Travis decided to push things too far, so Ray was pumped and ready, but still apprehensive about the whole thing. The prop people put the hobbling chains on his ankles, and he dropped and did a few pushups to get the blood flowing as the Nazi soldiers came in from the makeup room. When they were ready, he grabbed his hammer and started smashing rocks as the director called “ACTION!”

---

The Nazi Kommandant, flanked by his guard, strutted out into the yard where the allied prisoners were hard at work. They had been here a week, but nothing seemed to break their resolve. Not the starvation, not the grueling labor, not even the beatings. The prisoners continued their toil as he strode by. Inwardly defiant as they were, they had learned that mouthing off or resistance met with severe punishments, so they kept their heads down. The Kommandant stopped in front of the platoon sergeant, who was helping smash rocks for a prisoner who looked like he was about to drop dead of exhaustion.

“This will not do,” the Kommandant said with a weaselly sneer. “If a prisoner cannot fulfill his work quota, we have no need of him on this detail. Maybe he would serve better helping the men with target practice?” The Kommandant grabbed the haggard prisoner by the face and pushed him backwards. The man fell on his back into a pile of gravel as the German soldiers laughed.

“You sonnafa…!” the sergeant said, lifting his hammer in a threatening pose.

The Kommandant’s face darkened and he signaled to his men. The German soldiers, guns drawn, descended on the sergeant and began pummeling him mercilessly. He dropped the hammer as he doubled over from the assault. When the Kommandant called them off, the sergeant was sprawled on his hands and knees in the dirt, cradling his ribs. “Such fire in you!” the Kommandant sneered. “Even after all we’ve done. I am impressed, American. But we have ways of enforcing obedience. Even in those as hard-headed as you.”

“Do your worst, kraut,” the sergeant spat. “I’ve taken all you’ve dished out and more. I’m not afraid of you.”

“That is true,” the Kommandant said. “But this time I have something more elegant in mind.” He nodded to the soldiers and two of them grabbed the sergeant by his bare arms and dragged him to his feet. They torturously wrenched his arms behind his back and pulled coarse hempen ropes from their belts. The sergeant winced as the cords cut into the flesh of his wrists, pinioning his hands behind his back. The fibers were rough and stiff, and his wrists were rubbed raw as they were tied tighter and tighter. Weakened as he was from lack of food and sleep, the sergeant could only put up a feeble resistance as he was forcibly restrained by his captors. When they had finished binding him, the two guards held him up and pulled his head back so the Kommandant could look him straight in the eye.

“I know you have been giving half of your food ration to your men,” he said. “Very noble, but not acceptable. Your rations are hereby cut in half.” The sergeant snarled in defiance. “But that brings up an interesting thought. You treasure the men in your charge. And that will be your undoing.” The sergeant scrunched his brow in confusion as the Kommandant looked over at Heinrich, the youngest member of the prison guard. “Heinrich here gave me an excellent idea of how to make you more pliable. Time to put it to the test, eh?”

The Kommandant chuckled and gave a signal to Heinrich. The young guard and one other began taking ropes from their belts and moving through the rows of prisoners. None dared move and each breathed a sigh of relief as they were passed over. At the end of the line, the officers stopped in front of O’Brien, the youngest of the Allied squad.

“No!” the sergeant spat. He struggled and bucked in his ropes, but the guards held him fast. The Kommandant gave him a strong sock to the jaw for his outburst as the two guards grabbed the young private and dragged him away from the coffle of prisoners. The confused recruit had little strength to fight back as his hands were roughly yanked behind his back. “Leave him alone!” the sergeant shouted as the protesting young soldier was forcibly bound. His hands were secured behind his back with the same coarse fibers that bound the sergeant. He winced in pain and grunted as his wrists were roughly immobilized. Weak from starvation and hours of hard labor, the normally gung-ho private could only feebly wriggle in his bonds as the German soldiers grabbed him from behind in a chokehold and began dragging him towards the bunker. O’Brien kicked and shouted as he was forced away.

“You bastard!” the sergeant screamed. “You’ve made your point. Let him go!”

“But I don’t think I have,” the Kommandant said. “Young Mr. O’Brien needs to learn a lesson in respect. A lesson you need to learn as well. That is why you are going to watch! Bring him!” The Kommandant snapped his fingers and turned on his heels, marching triumphantly towards the bunker. The sergeant fought valiantly as his captors dragged him after.

---

The director didn’t release Ray and the actor playing the sergeant in between takes. He said it would take too long to get everything back into position and the knots on the ropes wouldn’t match. And he hated lazy discontinuity like that. So the sergeant was sitting on a stool in the corner, his hands still tied behind his back and his chest and feet bound with the same coarse hempen rope. His makeshift cloth gag was hanging around his neck as a PA held a water bottle to his lips. He was chatting happily with the German officers about upcoming projects. A strange contrast between his mood and his physical predicament, Ray noticed. The sergeant later said that he’d worked with this director before and being left like this was common in scenes with him where someone was tied up. He said you got used to it after a while. And the rope, though rough, wasn’t uncomfortable. He had played a bank manager during a robbery film for this director last year and he had to spend the whole day of shooting with his hands held behind his back with tight plastic zipties. THAT was uncomfortable, he joked.

Ray himself was leaning against the wall of the room. His hands were suspended above his head and his wrists bound together. Some of the slack had, mercifully, been released, which was a pleasure since he had been stretched pretty tightly. “Really makes your abs pop,” the director had said with a wink. “Adds some eye candy to the scene.” His ankles were still bound, so he couldn’t move around much or risk falling, so he just laid back while makeup applied some new wounds. He was actually impressed with the thoroughness of the binding. These ropes would really hold. Normally in modern movies, this kind of this was glossed over with loose bindings or (even worse) implied bindings that weren’t really there. It rather irked Ray when he was watching a movie or show where someone was restrained and the wrists were bound with loops so big you could drive a truck through them. Or when the actor just held his hands behind him and there was clearly nothing holding them there. Well, there was none of that going on here. All the ropework was real. Not necessarily up to TUG standards, but good enough to keep a prisoner in place.

As the makeup assistant added some cuts and cigarette burns to his bare torso, Ray looked around at the other actors. Most were either conversing or studying their lines, but one, in particular, was not. Travis, who had normally been pretty social during rehearsals and the other scenes they shot, was sitting off by himself against the far wall. Leaning in the corner and looking grim. “Aw,” Ray thought sarcastically. “No one wants to talk to the DIX criminal who nearly got Mason and Hoss killed? Poor baby. My best friend is all fucked up thanks to them and he’s lonely! Asshole should have dropped out of the project. He has some balls showing his face around me. If I weren’t tied up I’d rearrange his stupid face.”

But then Ray got to thinking. Brett had said that Travis had played a major part in the rescue. It wouldn’t have happened without him. And from what Leo had gleaned from his spy missions, Travis was the one member of DIX who was opposed to all of their schemes. He loudly protested pretty much everything they did. He was Clay’s brother, but he was the low man on their totem pole. The lowest-ranked pledge. The Spy business at the Bid Night party played a big part in that, but Shane said there was something else going on beneath the surface. Something that wasn’t overtly noticeable.

Ray idly twisted his hands in the ropes as the makeup tech glued down a gash on his ribs. They were beginning to chafe and he needed to keep circulation going. His mind drifted off in thought. “Have I been too hard on the guy?” he wondered. “He was all bluster and attitude during the reading, but was that genuine? Or was he just performing like a DIX was expected to? Standing up to those meatheads wasn’t easy. What did he REALLY think about everything that happened?”

The makeup tech finished her work and patted Ray on the shoulder as she moved on to work on the sergeant. There was still time during this pause to ponder, but Ray didn’t feel like pondering. He wanted more direct answers. “Hey, Travis!” he called out. “Come here for a sec.”

Travis looked up in surprise from his morose fugue state at the sound of his name. He was surprised that Ray had called him and slowly walked over, his curiosity rising. “He’s probably going to rip into me,” Travis thought as he came across the room, smoothing out his uniform. “I kinda deserve it, though. After all he’s been through, he deserves some release. Let all that anger out. He did nearly die. If taking it out on me makes him feel better, then I’m going to let him.”

“Ray, I…” Travis started to say as he stopped in front of the dangling TUG pledge. But Ray cut him off.

“Look,” Ray said. “I just want to know one thing. Did you know about what your boys were planning? Did you have anything to do with it?”

Travis was shocked. He was expecting a tirade, not an honest question. “No,” he said immediately. “I knew they were planning something public for the three of them, but I didn’t know what it was. No one tells the Pledges anything. Least of all me.”

“You’re Clay’s brother,” Ray said, not buying it. “You mean to tell me that he didn’t share ANY of the plan with you?”

“We don’t have the greatest relationship,” Travis said sadly. “I love him, but sometimes I don’t know if he feels the same way. He thinks I’m some sort of grand embarrassment. Says he’s trying to make a real man out of me and if he needs to be cruel to do it, then that’s what he’ll do.” Ray readjusted his wrists as he took that in. It sounded painfully familiar. “And what they did made me sick,” Travis said. “I didn’t want anything to do with it. I wasn’t there at the Quad for most of it. Once they got started I snuck away. I couldn’t be part of that.”

Ray thought back for a moment. He wasn’t there, but he had watched some of the online footage of the event. And come to think of it, he realized that he didn’t see Travis anywhere in the crowd. Some of the videos filmed by DIX themselves proudly showed off their number, but Travis was nowhere to be seen. Ray thought about that, twisting his wrists again. Damn, this was getting uncomfortable.

“I actually tried to release them the night before,” Travis said meekly. “I was going to let them escape and have them tie me up in their place. I couldn’t just let them… But Brett said no.” This made Ray flinch. Brett never said anything about that. Scott, either. Was Travis telling the truth? That sounds like something Brett would do, but still… “He said that things wouldn’t end if they bailed. They had to see it through. I thought he might say something like that, but I had to try. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.”

Now this was a shock. He wasn’t as good at reading people as Shane or even Nate, but he could tell that Travis was being genuine. His posture, his tone of voice, everything. You’d have to be an expert liar like Leo to be able to fake that. And Travis wasn’t that good an actor. Ray started to feel guilty for blaming him. “Look,” Travis said. “I know there’s still bad blood between us, and I understand. There probably will always be. But I wish there wasn’t. I like you guys. You all have something real that we just… don’t. Part of me is a little jealous. I’m not very well liked at DIX. I’m not going to say why, but I just want you to know how sorry I am that we have such animosity. In another world I’d love to be friends with you five. But I understand how that’s not possible now.”

“Wait a minute,” Ray said. “If you like us so much, then why did you volunteer to be the spy? You almost got away with it. If Leo didn’t get there when he did you would have gotten off scot-free.”

Travis was wracked with indecision. Should he say something? He hadn’t even told Clay this. Clay was so proud that he had volunteered that he couldn’t ruin it by… Travis looked at Ray, who was now squirming uncomfortably in his ropes. His wrists were rubbed red, which would look great on camera, but must have been hell for him. Travis looked down and saw the extra makeup kit that had been left by the tech on the floor nearby. He paused for a moment, then reached in and took out a jar of ointment. He spread some on his fingers and began to apply it to Ray’s chafed wrists. “Here,” he said. “I can tell the ropes are getting to you. This will help a bit. And the cameras won’t notice. It will look like sweat on film.” Ray flinched as Travis applied the cold gel to his raw wrists, but relaxed as the soothing cream began to do its work.

Neither said anything for a moment, but Travis spoke again after he put the ointment back in the bag. In soft tones so no one but the two of them could hear. “I wasn’t going to take the documents,” he said. “If I managed to get out of the house I was going to go to Brett and hand them back to him. Please don’t ask me why. Just know that I wasn’t going to expose your secrets.” Ray noticed that Travis’ eyes lingered on his bound wrists for a bit longer than they should have. There were other long looks, too. At Ray’s face, his arms, his abs…

“Wait,” Ray said, confused. “It sounds like you… that you actually wanted to be…”

“OK!” the director shouted, cutting Ray off. “Makeup is done and we’re ready to move on. Heinrich, a little less fraternizing with the prisoner, please. You’re supposed to be enemies. Remember?” The director chuckled as he got back into position to shoot. Travis and Ray both looked away awkwardly as the tension in Ray’s suspension bonds was tightened, stretching him back into captive position. “But since you’re there, we can pick up with the meat and potatoes.” He looked over at the sergeant, who held his mouth open as the gag around his neck was re-stuffed into his mouth by the assistant director. After checking the reel to make sure that the folds and knots matched the ones from the previous takes, the AD gave the thumbs up and they were ready to shoot. The director handed Travis a prop knife.

“The wounds are already there,” the director said, “so use them as a guide of where to start. Just do what feels natural.”

“Um,” Travis said. “I don’t know about this. Maybe someone else…”

“Come on!” the director said, exasperated. “You were so pumped about this a week ago and now you’re flaking out? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Travis stammered, “it’s just…”

“Hey, man,” Ray said. “Don’t worry. It’s just acting. I don’t blame you for anything. Hell, after the shoot we can grab a burger and laugh about it.” Ray twisted his wrists again and winked, showing that the ointment was doing its work. Travis caught the double meaning behind Ray’s words.

He smiled. “Oh, zo you zink you can take it, American dog?” he chuckled. “Vell let’s zee how tough you Yankees really are!”

“That’s the spirit!” the director said. “Got to work on the dialect, though. And ACTION!”

Coming Soon: Chapter 2 – Hold Me, Daddy
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Post by gag1195 »

It's nice to see things slowly start to return to normal, and to see that the campus is coming back around in their support of TUG and their condemnation of DIX. Ray is showing a lot of maturity, making the effort with Travis. Certainly no one would blame him if he continued wanting nothing to do with him. I can't say I would be as forgiving/open if I were in Ray's shoes. It's also great to see Mason's parents make an appearance, showing that in their own way, they do care.
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