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Shadow Dance [IC]


trollthumper

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Pulling up the street, Sil parted at the allyway's entrance not really caring to see if it was wide enough for her car to fit. She kept the engine running as she slipped out of the car and moved down towards the group. It was about than that she noticed the cycle as well as Push taking a few steps forward she looked at the bike, than him and said,

"No, you're bleeding, and probably dizzy out of your mind, you're not going anywhere without an enclosed cabin around you to make sure the only fall your taking is about two feet onto a carpeted floor."

She turned towards the others,

"Alright, assuming I have the most sane form of transportation at the moment, I think I'll take all injured parties. Though I can't fit everybody in my car, so we'll have to think of something. Most certian thing I can say, is that I'm not letting Push ride that thing in his current condition."

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Wail chuckled flatly at Push's warning. "Boy, I got boots older than you, it ain't a question of disrespect. You took that hit like a man." The older hero let the youths handle the question of transportation. He'd been around long enough to know that impromptu team-ups had a way of working themselves out with surprising efficiency. "That little thing's not carrying me anywhere anyway," he explained with a glance at Silhouette's car. "Might not look it, but I come in at over half a ton." He raised his broad shoulders in an affable shrug. "We'll see how trim you lot are at fifty-six."

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Push simply sat there on his bike, breathing heavily for a moment, then he smiled grimly. And swung his leg over the bike again, wincing.

"Damn. Damn, damn, damn."

He walked slowly over to the car, pointing at each of the heroes in turn.

"Cannonade, get on the bike with the lovely lady, hit the blue button below the screen, that'll kick on the autopilot and the engines. Then hang on. Bike'll take you right to the L.A.I.R. Sil, you win, I'll hop the backseat. But leave a window open. Wail...stand beside the car please."

He stopped by the Mini Cooper, leaning on it while looking at the others.

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Cannonade eyed the motorcycle. "All right," he said. He got on, then waited for Fumiko to get on behind him. "Here we go." He pressed the button, and the bike went rocketing off into the night, dragging the two towards Midtown.

"So, uh," he said over the sound of deafening acceleration, "you're a ninja, huh? Been doing that long?"

"Centuries."

It said something that, at this point, Cannonade was not wholly surprised by that. "Huh," he said. "Didn't think ninjas wore stuff like that."

"They don't. Superheroes do. I go by Silver Whisper back in Kyoto. I've been out of the ninja trade for quite some time now. Leave it to Haru to drag me back in."

"Haru being the guy made of shadow back there. What was that 'August Star of Heaven' stuff?"

"It's a long story, and one I'd rather not tell twice. Wait until we get there."

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Wail, raised an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses, but did as Push requested, walking with heavy footsteps over to the small vehicle. The broad shouldered man's size was all the more evident in comparison to the car, and he rubbed his grey-streaked beard with thick fingers. "Take it you've got a notion cooking, son?" he inquired, giving the injured youth a look that somehow mixed concern and frank appraisal. LaMarr could only assume Push was planning to use his superhuman abilities in some way, but wasn't keen to see the young man strain himself given his state.

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The kineticist's eye twitched as he pulled the back door to the Mini Cooper open and sat in the backseat, rolling down the window right beside him. He settled back, breathing in, and closed his eyes.

Ok, you've carried heavier than this. Just establish the link, and...

Wail suddenly felt a sensation akin to multiple pinpricks across his feet, and garbage near the entrance to the alleyway began to be buffeted about, as if by an invisible force. Push's closed eyes twitched as he felt the sheer weight of the veteran hero.

Focusfocusfocusfocusfocusfocusfocus...

Push's right hand twitched on the seat beside him, and the mighty hero suddenly shot up off the ground. He hung in midair beside the Mini Cooper, his feet about level with the window, the pinprick feeling across his entire body; as if waves of force were pushing out from him, keeping him aloft. The kineticist breathed out, sighing, and leaned over to look out at both Wail and Silhouette.

"Can keep that up for a while, but we gotta get moving. 20 Purgatory Row, Midtown."

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Moving over to the side of the car she watched the incident for a few seconds,

"Umm, wouldn't that look, you know, a bit strange, driving down the road with a hero levating just above speed level next to my car. Unless you can say cloak him, I don't really know how this would be practical. Which leads me to another question,"

She looked over at the bike for a few seconds,

"Yeah, no that wouldn't work either."

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Push simply eyetwitched. His hand also twitched. Wail shot up to the height of the building next to them, and hung in midair. The kineticist looked out with a very irritated expression towards Sil.

"Look, our options have officially hit zero. He can't fit in the car, we can't wait for him to walk to the L.A.I.R, the bike couldn't carry him, the car can't carry him, and I doubt you could either. I'm bleeding out, and while I'm quite coherent I'm also feeling a bit light-headed. We could've been there by now if I'd taken my bike. But I didn't. Now, I can hold him a bit further up, but I'd rather not have to pass him my rebreather to do it!"

He shot an apologetic look up at Wail, talking a bit more loudly so he could hear.

"Sorry, man, but you're going to have to hang up there for a bit. Just act like you're flying, or something, and nobody should pay much attention. This is Freedom City, after all..."

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Wail regarded his sudden levitation with surprising aplomb, although he did uncross his arms as though trying to keep his balance when Push telekinetically raised him further into the air. Lord, Yelena, I wish you were here now, he thought in a moment of melancholy, recalling his departed teleporting comrade. Out load, he called down to the youngsters in the car, "It's fine, just get going." He steadfastly refused to assume a traditional, horizontal flying position, but at least tilted his toes downward and refolded his arms, giving him a convincing if somewhat disconcerting appearance of levitation.

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Sil sort of eyed the floating hero for a few seconds, but with his confirmation, she hopped into the drivers seat, typed in the directions and headed off.

It wasn't a long drive and there wasn't much traffic it being a Sunday night. When she got to the garage she drove up and sat outside,

"Alright, GPS says we're here,"

She glanced back at Push,

"So you need to call your friend so he'll let us in?"

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The flying motorcycle eventually began to decelerate around a parking garage in Midtown. The garage door went flying up as Lazarus approached, clearing the way for the bike to come to the rest in the middle of the work area. Cannonade dismounted, followed by Silver Whisper. "Huh," he said. "Hell of a place. Push's friend keeps a clean house. God knows if I loaned my place out to a hero, it'd probably keep getting smashed to crap."

"We may wish to keep the door guarded," Silver Whisper said, "until --"

Silver Whisper's statement was cut off by a Mini Cooper coming to rest in front of the garage. Above it, Wail hovered over the street, but was being slowly lowered to the sidewalk as they watched.

" -- until now. Does everyone drive like that in these parts?"

"It's New Jersey. It's kind of a necessity."

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Push hauled himself out of the car and under the garage door, though he kept one arm across his chest. He shook his head at Silhouette as he passed by, walking to a set of toolboxes at the other end of the room and began to move them. For a moment he stopped, and he pulled the lapel of his coat aside for a moment to look in. Bugger. That...that is a lot of my blood. Flesh wound, probably, but hurts like a sonofa...

"No...he...uh...doesn't get involved with my out-of-work activities. Just gives me a place to work and crash. It's in the..."

A brief bit of lightheadedness caused him to stop, but he shook his head and pushed the last toolbox aside, revealing a steel trapdoor in the floor that had been covered by all the equipment.

"In the...sorry, in the basement. Cannonade, could you...uh...go to the office over there, for a sec? I think there's an emergency first aid kit in there somewhere...garage accidents, y'know..."

Kneeling down, he placed his palm on the door. Three runes along the sides flared up briefly, before dimming again and disappearing. A second after that, he pushed in a section of concrete beside the trapdoor, which folded in to reveal a small console set in the floor.

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"On it." He ran into the office, grabbed the first aid kit, and ran back to Push. He started unwrapping a roll of gauze, then looked down at Push's wound. "That's... a bit deeper than I'm used to. Anyone got --?"

"Let me." Silver Whisper pushed him aside, took the gauze, and began to dress the wound. "Been a while since I did this -- they've invented stronger cures since the war. But you never forget how to dress a wound." She wrapped it tightly, staunching the bleeding. "There. You may need some antibiotics, just in case, but this should keep it closed."

"All right." Cannonade dove into the first aid kit, fishing out a few painkillers. His skin had already started to knit, but the impact of the katanas had left his flesh bruised, tender, and aching. He popped a few and went over for the door, standing guard for the others.

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Sil pulled her car up into the garage and parked it after Push had limped his way out. She noted the stains in the back seat with a sigh. It didn't matter terribly, she was a near expert at getting blood out of fabric by this point, hopefully the smell wouldn't hang around too long. She moved past Cannonade and over to see the silver clad woman dressing his wound. Grabbing a chair she pulled it up to his side, giving the now much more exposed wound an appraising gauze which if she was maskless might of show her scrunching her it uncomfortably, but her mask showed no such emotion as usual.

Sitting back she glanced around the shop for a few seconds before turning back to the other woman and saying,

"So, ninjas? What is the freaking deal with that?"

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Landing back on solid ground with a resounding thud, Wail followed the others in, nodding with approval as the mysterious woman they'd rescued tended to the telekinetic's wound. "Sounds like there's a tale worth telling there," he agreed with the other heroine, remaining standing nearby, "but first thing's first. Seems my rep proceeds me, but I've missed a couple issues of the 'who's who' for our line of work. Unless you'd rather I just keep calling you 'son'." He offered Push a minute smile.

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Push lifted his arms dutifully as they wrapped the wound in gauze, taking off the coat and poofy shirt as they did so, but keeping the bandanna on his face to obscure his features. Oddly, he kept his mouth shut throughout the procedure, although his eyes had a slightly pinched look until Silver Whisper finished.

"Tale worth telling once we're out of earshot. Downstairs is soundproofed, let's save it till we're below. And once I've got some caffeine in my system." Nodding in a mute thank-you to the lady ninja, he bent down over the console in the floor and tapped in a ten-digit code, his body obscuring the numbers. For a few seconds there was nothing, then a small laser shot out from the screen and rolled over one of his eyes. An approving beep, and Push nodded. His next words were spoken a tad more reluctantly.

"Stone. Entry code...Anastasia." Another approving beep, this time accompanied by a rumble. The trapdoor slid to the side, revealing a set of stairs that led down into a darkened basement. Push started down the stairs, reaching the bottom and disappearing into the gloom as he finished speaking.

"Name's Push, if you haven't heard it before then thank God for small favors."

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Stretching even after only being seated for a short time Sil followed behind watching as it seemed that Push's 'friend' had made some extensive security modifications to his garage just for Push's exclusive use. Not that she wouldn't probably have something similiar soon. Moving down the stairs she realized that in the rush she hadn't given her name, or well her costumed name.

"I go by Silhouette, because of the nature of my powers and because it sounds cool. Sil for short is just fine, and you'll usually find me in the Fens if you want to find me again, though under no circumstances please do not make a giant lit sign to draw me out."

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Cannonade followed behind, joined by Silver Whisper. Above, he could hear the clanking of steel against stone, the thrumming of electricity, and the slight distortion in the air that hinted at something otherworldly. "Name's Cannonade," he told the group. "I usually work out of Southside, but business seems to bring me freakin' everywhere. I tend to focus on gang warfare, but... well, you know this town. Killer robots, Ragnarok-loving Nazis, creepy puppets..."

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The big man nodded to each of the younger heroes is turn as they introduced themselves, Wail seemed to take the extensive security measures in stride. "Seems like it's not news, but the moniker's Wail. Used to be one third of 1-800-JUSTICE, if that means anything to kids these days." a braod hand stroked his beard contemplatively. "Was retired for years, but... well. 'You know this town', hmn?" LaMarr made a rumbling bass sound that might have been a chuckle. "Which just leaves the sister in silver."

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The basement was roomy and comfortable, mismatched furniture here and there, a couple of couches facing a coffee table and TV, with two long rectangular slots covered by heavy steel shutters in the ceiling, above a pair of workbenches covered in vehicle parts. A tiny kitchen was in the corner, and three closed doors on separate walls. Push slapped a hand on a brick in the wall at the bottom of the stairs as Wail made his way down the steps, and runes all over the room briefly flared up before disappearing. Rolling his shoulders, he hoofed it over to one door and threw it open, his houseguests catching a glimpse of a small library before he disappeared inside. Thirty seconds later, there was a rolling rumble, and, as Cannonade sensed, they could hear the clanking of steel against stone and the thrumming of electricity. The trapdoor slid shut with a clang, two heavy steel bands criss-crossing it on their side. The kineticist reappeared at the doorway, walking over and flopping into a nearby chair, looking bone-tired.

"Alright. The whole system's active, nobody's getting in here unless I let 'em, or they bring several tons of high explosives."

Push tapped his commlink earbud twice, and the combination coffee-maker and hot chocolate-maker in the corner started to bubble. A somewhat-satisfied smile creased his features, and he turned to his guests.

"So, no offense, ma'am, but I think you got some 'splainin to do."

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Silver Whisper relaxed. "All right, then," she said. "My name is Fumiko Takahashi. I do my duty as a hero under the name of Silver Whisper, but this is only the latest of my names. My tale goes back centuries, to the Sengoku period."

"When was that?" Cannonade interjected. "Sorry, not the most up to date on my Japanese history..."

"The 15th century," she said. "I was born in a small farming village outside of what is known as Osaka today. The first years of my life were uneventful; I played with the other children, studied, learned the ways of managing a household. When I was sixteen, however, I met a travelling musician. I apparently caught his fancy, and he caught mine. We spent many days together, but he always would vanish at night, only to return the next day. One day, I followed him to his lodgings after he slipped away from me. As the sun set, his skin turned to silver, and he revealed himself to me -- Tsukiyomi-no-Mikoto, god of the moon. He praised me for my ingenuity and sneakiness, and granted me a gift before he returned to Takamagaha.

"The gift was a fraction of the moon's radiance within myself. The light was mine to shape and conceal, to create false faces and cloak myself in the night. And it wasn't until five years later that I noticed I had not changed since that night. Tsukiyomi had granted me a second gift -- immortality. I'd tried to make a living as a farmer until that point, but when the gods grant you a gift, you must use it. And so I set out from my village and took to the road, seeking a purpose. I found it in Koga, where civil unrest had turned daimyo against daimyo, resulting in war without principle and death without meaning. There was word of killers in the night, recruited by the highest bidder to do whatever deeds he wished. It was then that I knew what I would do. I would adopt the guise of these killers, and become a ninja."

"Wait. Why a ninja? I mean, it sounds like Koga wasn't a bed of roses, but why pass yourself off as an assassin?"

"Because it was the best way to remain hidden. There would have been more honorable ways to use my abilities, sure -- with a little swordtraining and the right illusion, I could have easily become a samurai. But a samurai was expected to be completely open to their daimyo, and I knew the illusion would not hold forever. If it was discovered, retribution would be swift, and there would be a chance I could not escape. As a ninja, however, my deeds would not appear to be my own. Everyone would assume I had been hired, and if I left the right hints, I could play two fiends against one another. There were enough corrupt daimyos in that day that I was not bereft of targets.

"In my travels, however, I soon learned of others in the same situation as I was. There was Kyon, an alien warrior, cut off from his planet, with the ability to take the shape of others; he had landed outside of Kyoto three hundred years before, and passed himself off as a wandering ronin since then. Imeru was what you'd call an esper -- sorry, psychic -- today; she was born of the Ainu, and flew on the winds to see life beyond her village. Osamu was a joker who claimed he'd developed a martial art that allowed him to distill his essence into multiple forms; he told us centuries later that he'd been born with the power, one of the first mutants. And then there was Haru. Haru had been a priest's assistant, trained in the art of onmyodo. He claimed an invocation had left him in perfect control of his yin, allowing him to command power from shadows.

"As our paths crossed, we formed our own band, dedicated to seeking out corruption and wickedness and making sure it was purged from the earth. We brushed against many foes in our day -- restless yokai, corrupt lords, even the Iga and Koga ninja clans when they learned of our antics. We cloaked ourselves for centuries, but eventually realized that the time of the ninja was coming to an end. The structure of the daimyos was fading, and those who hid in shadows and traded in secrets were officers of the law, not mercenaries. We disbanded, pledging to keep in touch over the decades. I lived many lives after that -- performer, scholar, housewife, painter. It was only after the war that I came out of hiding; superhumans were operating normally, so I had no reason to fear discovery.

"It was a few decades into my career as a crimefighter that Osamu contacted me. He told me that Haru had grown withdrawn lately; the two lived in Tokyo and kept up a good rapport, but lately, Haru had been missing appointed meetings, and when he did show up, he seemed silent when he wasn't panicked. I came to Tokyo to look for him, and found out, too late, what had happened.

"Haru had been trying to perform the invocation that granted him control over shadows again, in an attempt to increase his control. But it had failed -- several times. On the edge of desperation, he had reached out for an unclean source -- Amatsu-Mikaboshi, the August Star of Heaven."

"And who the hell exactly is that?"

"Before the world was created from the body of Izanagi-no-Motoko, and Amaterasu-Omikami and Tsukiyomi-no-Mikoto, the sun and moon, were washed from his eyes, there was no great light in the heavens. There was merely the void, limitless and hungering, the domain of Amatsu-Mikaboshi. And through Haru's corrupted ritual, he found an anchor back into the world. Osamu and I arrived too late. We brought our all against Haru, but he was able to summon the very shadows to blind us and drown out my light. I escaped horribly wounded... but not before seeing Haru break Osamu's neck and drink his breath.

"I spent the next few years tracking him down, but when I thought I'd found him, it was just a clone. Haru, that bastard, had stolen Osamu's power for his own. Kyon, Imeru and I scoured the globe for him, and finally, I tracked him to Freedom City. I should've waited for my friends, but... I kept remembering the look on Osamu's face as Haru seized his neck. I wanted to make him pay." She took a breath and looked to the group. "And I swear, he will pay."

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Sil found a nice place to lean as she listened to the story. The bit about being disguise of a ninja certianly made sense for the era, if you posed as the bad guy when everyone was already corrupt it'd be easy to do the right thing and making it look like it was for someone else's political agenda. The other bits made her a tad uncomfortable, she hadn't met many immortals, but it didn't sound very pleasant as offhandedly as the woman put it. The term housewife really caught her ear and made her wince as it seemed to suggest that she had outlived a spouse, and possibly her own offspring as well. It sounded like an immensely lonely life, which was probably why the other immortals keep in contact so frequently, which made the last part make her heart sink.

Haru, her companion, her friend, had killed one of their teammates. There was a word of corruption, and some Japanese mythology that she was unaware of, but that didn't change that fact. It would be no wonder she'd be angry, heck furious, the woman probably wasn't unfamiliar with the death of a friend, but to be murdered outright by another friend, Sil had to take a few breaths herself before stepping forward.

"So, he's here in Freedom than? What do you think it'll take for us to nail this b@$!@%d?"

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The kineticist passed around mugs of cocoa as Whisper spoke, his face getting progressively harder as she described the crimes Haru had committed. Evil sorcery. Summoning of a daemonic entity. Granted, the guy didn't seem to go even near what he'd seen from Scratch, but it hit close to home. He could almost feel the immortal woman's pain, in a way; he sympathized greatly. When Silhouette spoke, he nodded grimly and finished off his own mug. When he replied, his voice was a monotone, and his eyes over the bandanna seemed suddenly much older.

"Fight in a well-lit area. Hit him hard, fast, and often. Keep his mouth shut by any means neccessary. Overload his nerves, energy, sonic waves, or just sheer pain. Keep it so he can't concentrate on his spells. Either way, have to lock him down fast."

Push stroked his chin, running through various situations similar to this one. Admittedly, he'd never really dealt with conventional Eastern magic, all of the people he'd talked to or helped out vis-a-vis Scratch testified the majority of the Gentleman Warlock's arcane might seemed to be more European in nature. Then, a thought popped into his head, and he inwardly smiled. If you're going to catch someone with black magic, why not call up Mr. Black?

"Give me a bit to make a few calls, I know a guy who knows a guy. Who knows a lot of guys."

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Wail didn't respond to the story quite so quickly as the younger heroes, rolling Silver Whisper's words around in his head slowly. He very much recognized the look of dull but undiminished loss on the ancient martial artist's face, and as he slowly removed his sunglasses and regarded her with eyes wrinkled in the corners, she likely recognized the same look there. "Well alright," he rumbled finally, giving the foreign woman a brief nod. "Can't have a joker like that running loose. 'Sides, wouldn't want to seem like poor hosts. Does raise the question: why's he here? Lousy place to lay low, if you're a super-type."

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"I... honestly do not know," Silver Whisper said. "He's been on the move since he killed Osamu. Moscow, Berlin, Nice, Barcelona, Edinburgh, Boston, Philadelphia... to here. Every time I've found him, he's been trying to do something else. In Boston, he was trying to oust Irish mob interests. In Edinburgh, he'd engaged in a shadow war against an old and powerful mage. His behavior keeps changing... and I cannot imagine what he'd be doing in this part of town." She turned to Cannonade. "You're a native; what do you find this Lincoln district to be like?"

"Well," Cannonade said, "it's gone through its rough patches on occasion. Got some problems with gangs. But it's always there, y'know? I mean, I'm a Southside guy myself, but Lincoln's kinda inviolable for its people. They've got pride in it, and they stand up for it on every occasion."

"Pride," Silver Whisper said. "Yes, that's it. Oh, I can't believe I didn't see it sooner."

"Y'know, I know ninjas worshipping shadow gods is a bit outta my wheelhouse, but could I get a point of reference here?"

"Osamu practiced onmyodo, magic based in the philosophies of yin, yang, and godei - the five elements. Earth, water, fire, air, and void. Earth is associated with stubbornness, pride, and stability." She browsed the underground chamber, seeking out a map. "I decided to follow Osamu into Lincoln tonight, but I've tracked him for the past week. He's been leaning on a nightclub in Riverside, stalking the docks of Port Regal - water, obviously - and clinging to the shadows of the North End."

"Huh." Cannonade consulted the map. "Okay, magic's not my thing, but Riverside... well, it's the artsy district. Galleries, gay bars, nightclubs, all that stuff. And the North End's where FCU is, and the tech firms --"

"Fire and air. Fire's associated with drive and passion, and air with knowledge and experience." She ran her fingers over the map. "He pulled off his last ritual by desecrating a temple. Now he's trying to desecrate a city. He may be trying to bring Amatsu-Mikaboshi down into creation." She consulted the map. "That just leaves the central element -- void. Void is..." She looked like she was wracking her brain. "...spirit, thought, creativity, inventiveness, the ability to communicate. Where in this town would best represent that?"

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