Unfamiliar Territory

[Guest]

Isabella was hoping for a nice, relaxing train ride to West City. Instead, she left the train simmering in her own anger and pain. The staring was bad enough, but perhaps it was her own fault for wearing her military uniform. What really got to her, though, was that the man who sat next to her on the train seemed to have no idea of personal space, trying to talk to her, inch into her personal space, falling asleep on her shoulder, and trying befriend her… What a strange man, trying to become friends with someone like her.

"That was then" she sighs, slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder as the train departs behind her. Standing in the dry air, she looks around and realizes that she failed to get directions to Western HQ. “Fuck,” she mutters, internally lecturing herself for her lack of oversight on this matter, forgetting to acquire even a simple map…

Instinctively, she grabs a red fan from a holster on her belt, slides it open, and begins to fan herself with it, hoping it will help her calm down as she thinks.

“Unfamiliar place, unfamiliar people… Hell, I know more about Briggs than West City.”
She pauses for a moment, taking in a deep breath and holding it in. "Stay calm, and focus... You've handled worse in the past." Exhaling, she continues fanning herself, but at a slower pace. "I guess I'll have to bite the bullet sooner or later," she says aloud to herself. Looking around again, she begins to slowly walk away from the platform, hoping to find her way to the headquarters sooner or later.

[Guest]

Meanwhile, Nikolaus was taking a mighty fancy stroll around a not-as-mighty-fancy train station. Hands in the pocket of his blue soldier coat left open as he wore it informally for a military man anyways. His mouth gripping unto a tobacco pipe as he inhales unto the noxious fumes and exhales said smoke out of his nostrils in a flare. Eyes open widely as he hadn't blinked, making it seem rather glossy, though occasionally blinking once or twice.

Bored...

That was the feeling he had now, just walking aimlessly around West HQ after inspecting for any Cretans for some info gathering, and ANY SIGNS of rebels against Central. Not much so far, and he had cracked down on the small timers. So, stopping straight up, incidentally in the path of a young Isabella. He spotted with his eyes a man in front of him not WALKING, his back turned against him as an irritated eye twitch found it's way on Stuka's face upon the presence of the baldy having several strands of hair sticking up, and not going with the flow, just a random irritation.

So, simply upon impulse with a poker face donned and a fake wide smile, he kicks the fat middle aged man with the annoying hair strand sticking out above out of spite, before whistling, feet back on the ground, and staring at where the middle aged man might fall on or stop on.

Coincidentally, due to the crowd hiding everyone, and clearing out of the way, obscuring the young Alchemist's vision, said fat middle aged man appeared to have 'lunged' at Isabella threateningly due to the way his feet seemed 'running' at an alarming stagger sprint with hands trying to reach out to her as if he were trying to strangle her delicate throat. At least that's how it seemed to the pedestrians around with Nikolaus himself simply amongst the crowd that cleared out of the way and formed a circular clearing, unaware it was Niko who had kicked the fat man as he has done it ever so casually.

"Cheese loving Bourgeoisie scumbag." He thought diabolically, inhaling and exhaling the tobacco, smiling cheekily whilst watching.

[Guest]

Noticing the sudden lack of people around her, Isabella snaps back into reality, suddenly becoming aware of the heavy footsteps coming towards her. Seeing a rather large man coming towards her at a startling pace, she freezes up, rapidly trying to determine the appropriate response to this strange situation. “Screw social protocol,” she thinks as he gets too close for comfort, shutting her fan with a flick of her wrist. Throwing her bag off to the side, she barely manages to shift around the man’s girth, hitting the back of his leg with the top of her folded fan, right behind the knee, causing it to give way.

She watches as the man topples over with a satisfying crash. Her copper eyes filled with intensity as she carefully approached the man, getting onto his knees, looking hurt after the fall. Quietly, she walks in front of him, and offers him her hand. Hesitantly, and with a questioning look on his face, he reaches out for it. With a smirk, she snatches his arm and twists it, before pushing his entire hand back to break his wrist. The man howls in pain as she shifts herself a bit closer, one hand placed just below his wrist and the other halfway between his elbow and shoulder. She pauses, looking into the man’s eyes for a few seconds.

“Have you had enough?” she asks, her face becoming stoic again as her eyes lose their intensity.

“W-what?” the man asks, his voice wavering.

Sighing, Isabella tightens her grip on the man’s arm, swiftly kneeing the man’s elbow. With an audible crack, the man howls in pain once more as his eyes begin to tear. She lets go of the man’s arm, now obviously bending in the wrong direction past at the elbow.

“Never try to touch me again,” she says, opening her fan again. Looking around at the crowd watching her, she can’t help but feel strange. “If you’ve got time to stare,” she says to the crowd, fanning herself at a slow and steady pace, “then at least one of you can find an officer to deal with this piece of shit.”

“Just try and get up again,” she says, shooting the fat man a cold look.

[Guest]

Despite all the circumstances happening at this very minute, with the fat man being thrown down, was the same moment Stuka's view of the fight were obstructed of the most AWESOME DISPLAY OF MILITARY BRUTALITY by a fat TALL lardie who shuffled in front of him, who was more a globe than a person. To which such an occurrence had caused Niko's eyes to bolt left and right around the corner as a startling revelation happened to him -- that the crowd has a lot of fatties amongst them.

So, yanking his right hand out of his blue military coat pocket in his mad depravity, and reaching for his left, he pulls out a standard issue pistol because he left his stuff in the HQ, after all, he was off-duty-ish. Aiming for the big towering tub of lard in front of him, he pulls the trigger TWICE as the fat person clasps unto his heart shot from behind, before collapsing forth where a small quake was felt by Niko as he shivered at the thought how heavy the eight feet of fat was.

THEN! The crowd shrieked and screamed in fear from the sudden discharged gunfire as Niko, panicking himself going along with mob mentality, hollered out accidentally, "THOSE FAT PEOPLE ARE CRETANS PACKING EXPLOSIVES IN THEIR CLOTHING!"

Though he had realized the folly of his ways as running was rampant everywhere with people being trampled, and lots of fat people are tripping over the trampled ones and those fat people who tripped caused other fat people to trip and those fat people who were tripped by other tripped fat people running into them were tripped upon by other fat people until there was a mountain of fatties piled upon one another spanning a good 12 feet. Niko luckily having ran towards a wall where he braced his back against it, sweating at the sight of such fatties with awe at how they quickly can form human pyramids, wiggling as they all struggle to get out yet they cannot as their weight caused them to crush one another and not be able to get up. Good grief, they seriously need to stop chugging down on the junk food in the West.

Shrugging in apathy despite his hand being what caused this chaos in the first place, unable to take responsibility that it was caused from him due to just thinking it wasn't his responsibility anyways, he took careful steps at the suddenly deserted area save for him, the mountain of piled fat people, and that girl as he stopped in front of her a good foot or two, staring THROUGH her with a vacant obnoxious smile as he noted her rank through an insignia on her blue coat, saluting with his left hand after he pulled that out of his pocket. "Sergeant Stuka of Intelligence reporting, General-person-whom-I-decided-to-obey! It seems we have a sudden buttfuck incursion of fatass Cretans coming to sabotage West city, what are your orders to MURDE-- do about these bastards, MA'AM?"

This salutations would actually be appropriate... if Nikolaus hadn't been STANDING on the middle aged man who had his arm dislocated by the Alchemist, standing as of the current moment on his torso as if he were a platform.

[Guest]

Reacting to the gunshots, Isabella swiftly pulls out her own pistol. Before she could attempt to diffuse the situation, she heard a man shout out something about an obese terrorist plot. Realizing that panic had already set into the crowd, she took a defensive stance, weaving in between and forcing away panicking civilians, until eventually only she, a corpse, and incapacitated civilian, and a rather large man remained in the immediate vicinity. She aims her pistol at him as he approaches her, only to… Salute her as a general?

Slowly lowering her pistol, she looks Stuka up and down. He was wearing a military uniform, but was wearing it more casually, and his eyes seemed off. Weary, maybe? Perhaps he was on his way home from work, or taking a break... Maybe sort-of on duty? “Nah. I doubt they’d give him that long of a leash.”

Happy enough not to have been trampled like some other people, or having been crushed in a pile of civilians, she switched the safety on and holstered it. “Put your hand down,” she says, closing her fan and placing it back into her belt. She’d need to hold off on self-comforting for now. “I’m Sergeant Galicia,” she says with a pleasant tone and a warm smile, pointing to her emblem. “I’m the new Head of Military Intelligence here, but it looks like that’ll have to hold off a little bit to handle this... mess.”

Looking around at the chaos that resulted from the situation, she pinches the bridge of her nose with her left hand, her pinky idly rubbing what was left of her ring finger. “Now,” she says, her face and voice returning to their normal states, “if you want, you can start helping me out by getting off that man. I want someone to be able to talk to him later.” Looking over to the pile of tripped and trampled survivors, she adds, “Second, you can round up those people there. We need to either keep them here or take their information so that someone can question them later.

“And third,” she says, pointing towards the bleeding corpse left on the platform, “I’d rather you not shoot anyone else like that. Please. For everyone's sake.” Not bothering to wait for his reply, she carefully walks over to the man that was shot, stopping a few feet short of him. “I presume you saw something, like a detonator, or had previous knowledge to this event?” she asks, looking back at him.

[Guest]

Nikolaus stared below him as he somehow noticed that there was a man below the soles of his feet being stepped on, fuming red as eyes were widest. What was he having again? Talking? Chalking? Oh wait! Choking! Righteous. So, stepping back, he got off of the fat man as he had sucked in a vast quantity of air before breathing out, yep, he was definitely choking. Ah well.

So, as she was talking about something important to the great and mighty Nikolaus, (to which great and awesome are self-given titles rather than earned and given by others), he nodded as she turned his back, reached for his pocket when he placed his saluting hand down, pulled out a grenade, pulled out the pin with his thumb and he flung the grenade behind himself casually, that it was only moments after, to which she had turned around to look at him, way after he flung the grenade and hasn't been shown to have done so, as it rolled to a pillar, does he nod that indeed he had seen a detonator.

So she was another sergeant eh? Damn intelligence insignia and their resemblance to the general's ranking! Ah well, looking around, as he took steps forward towards Galicia, does an explosion sound off and Nikolaus falls flat on a soft cushiony object from the pressure of the explosion that was WAY behind him, getting up as he sighed, looking down to see the fat man's belly had broken his fall before getting up. Really, NOW it appears that there was an explosion and the fact it was raining chunks of meat on the two had given the expression that they WERE really saboteurs.

"THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS!" He shook his fist in fake anger, looking behind to see the shambled remains of a pillar with strewn gore all over the place, "I KNEW IT! THEY WERE AFTER AMESTRIS AFTER ALL!"

Breathing in and out, he turned around to once more face the girl, pulling the gun's slide back as a fresh and unspent bullet ejected from the slide, before leaving the slide, to which he had wasted a perfectly good bullet, but hey! It's all in the name of looking really cool amidst even more chaos as people screamed and some Amestrian police officers approached the train station to secure the perimeter.

"Those fat people are a bunch of saboteurs from the extremely secretive Cretan spy group known as Alconquiso, that they aren't really fat, but have packed explosives in their clothing that give them the appearance of being fat." He says, still smiling thus far without dropping the expression even once, even when pretending anger which may appear 'awkward', "So.... that man I shot, he was their sleeper agent I've been looking for... erm... weeks? And he planned to kill the military personnel from the train and stuff, for some DASTARDLY and EVIL plot! Which means we'll have to shoot every fatty on sight, they are ALL enemies."

[Guest]

She had always heard that hero’s don’t look at explosions. “Well, I guess I’m no hero,” she thinks to herself, watching fire and shrapnel rip apart a pillar farther up the platform. When the blast or air pushed her back, she managed to keep her balance. “Just like my experiments…” Hesitating, she relaxes her body only when she hears Stuka cock his pistol. “Apparently, he thinks he is…”

Despite the absurdity of the claims he was making, Isabella couldn’t help but see some truth in what he said. “Or is it that I either see this ‘truth,’ or get burned by the consequences of another truth?” After mulling over her logic for a few seconds, a realization hit her. “Survival is more important…”

Looking at the man she had taken down earlier, then at the man Stuka shot, she realized that evidence supported his claims. “Looks like you were right, Stuka,” she says, glancing over at him and his awkward smile. Something seemed… Suspicious? Off? “Don’t jump to conclusions... You’re not good at reading people.”

“Alright, Sergeant Stuka,” she says, watching pedestrians run away from the bombed station. “We have reason to believe they are Cretan terrorists. We’ll need to incapacitate the subjects.” Pulling out her pistol and switching off the safety, she adds, “I’d prefer them alive for interrogation, but use your own judgement when it comes to the use of lethal force.” With that, she runs off after a horde of “terrorists,” hoping that there won’t be any more explosions.

[Guest]

"Damn right I am right!" He retorted arrogantly in a jovial tone, as Galicia made way to apprehend the rest of the civilians, leaving Niko unattended. Satisfied well in his success in convincing the young dame of his lies as truths.

As there were civilians being stopped by the police, Nikolaus pointed the gun at the fat middle aged man that 'lunged' at Galicia, and pulls the trigger. Muffling his own chuckle as he felt dizzy from the euphoria, the fun he was having in this tempest of chaos, the choir of screams brought by panic and death. Smelling the familiar scent of gunpowder mixed with blood, as his pupils dilute, feeling alive once more that he had taken two steps to turn around and look at the civilians. Methodically and mechanically aiming at the fat civilians with his pistol upon the orders brought from the head of intelligence in this region, to use lethal force as necessarily.

"Bradley initiative commenced, protocol level one, initiating elimination sequence. Proceeding to terminate fatties in the name of good for some wood in the hood, yo." He muttered incoherently in a weird rhyme, smile extending to a toothy grin.

Pulling the trigger as he drifts his aim to another fat civilian, shooting them as well to the head, those who weren't too far away as he knew pistols weren't meant to kill from a distance. Continuing this process of robotic elimination of the masses as he had turned around to shoot more, even managing to fire at a fat civilian that was in front of Isabella, bullet whizzing past her ear, inches away from her skin which is testament to his aim despite such small opening as to not shooting her. Strolling along nonchalantly in an odd walk that resembles constipated pained dancing more than walking as his steps are uneven.

Firing at a number of civilians to their heads before deciding to opt for shooting them to their knees, before he heard the clicks from his gun indicating the clip was empty, gritting his teeth with his grin that hides his frustration of running out of bullets to shoot with. He forgot to bring spare magazines. Ah well.

"Fuck... fuck... FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK!" He curses in shouts that was drowned out by the screams of civilians unable to get out due to the blockade by the police, Niko whipping his arm with the gun forth to fling the pistol at random, to which had whacked a random running pedestrian as he fell to the ground, Niko tilting his head in wonder, reverting to his smile. "Oho? Guess things DO work out after all."

[Guest]

Isabella quickly caught up with a group of fleeing civilians, which she weaved through elegantly. Grabbing a hold of the one in the front, she swings him around and down into the ground, causing the others to stop. Pointing her gun at them, she gives them a warning. “If you stop running, I won’t hurt you.” Looking at each other, she notes that they seem reluctant to try and cross with her, but also afraid to go back towards the series of gunshots unleashed in the opposite direction. As several policeman round a nearby corner, she lowers her gun. “These are suspected terrorists,” she says to the police officers. “Arrest them and search their persons for explosives.”

“Yes ma’am!” they say, taking out their cuffs.

“And don’t let them run away,” she says, walking back towards the station. “It’d be bad for everyone.”

“This man must be mad,” she thinks to herself, slowly approaching the opposite end of the barricade. She observed Stuka fling his pistol, seeming strangely satisfied that it hit one of the suspects. “I hope you had good reason to shoot those people,” she growls, looking at the carnage he’s caused while several policemen start taking over. “You know, they could be a rogue military sect, or even radical Cretan sympathizers.” Looking at him, she adds, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to look further into this matter myself.”

[Guest]

Inhaling and exhaling as if he had pipe, Nikolaus's pupils stream down to see there is a lack of a tobacco pipe held by his mouth, which led him to curse and mutter under his breath some incomprehensible terms before noticing the woman asserting ethics, reasons and things that are impressive as butterflies on a corn starch, or was it morals? He couldn't tell. ANYWAYS.

He smiles and nods in his silence, before breaking his ode of quietness, "Reasons? Oh yes yes yes and a yeah with a butter scotch of affirmative! I have a boatload bitch of reasons. I used lethal force as necessary as suggested." He chirped enthusiastically. Giving a quick gaze right and left behind him in the midst of dead bodies littered before returning his attention.

Noticing police officers were beginning to crowd the station as his eyes shake uncontrollably, looking and taking in the details very quickly before they lock unto Isabella, nodding afterwards.

"Oh sure, look, look as all people do with their eyes to which they use to... LOOK! Creta is Amestris's ally, but are they now? Or are they not? THAT is the question. And this, madam, is an international incident basically, which violates Amestris's innocence in ways virginity is popped like a pickled up turnip in a season of lemming suicide runs." Explained the Stuka, clasping both hands one another, giving off a stare with not a blink, eyes glossy and all to the military woman.

[Guest]

“Lemmings don’t go on suicide runs,” she says plainly, wondering how a sane man, assuming he’s sane, comes up with such... colorful analogies as Sgt. Stuka manages. “But you’re right: Creta is currently our ally, but it means we have to be that much more careful. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather this not escalate from a mere incident to another war.” Holstering her pistol, she sighs. “But thank you for giving me the go-ahead to look into the matter myself,” she smirks. “I know it’s only courtesy, but still, better to be polite than burn bridges, right? Plus, there's only so much that the eyes can see.”

She chuckles when she realizes she’s acting more naturally than most people she runs into. “Maybe overlooking social policies can have its benefits…” Regaining her composure as she remembers the situation around her, she shrinks back slightly as she gets out her fan and slides it open again.

“Now,” she says, regaining her normal, serious composure, “I’m going to leave it to the powers that be for deciding whether your judgment in firing so many shots was either in the right or the wrong. Just realize that I never told you, or asked you, to commit such an act directly, but to your own judgment.” She pauses, fanning herself quite rapidly, her mind racing on how to cover her own ass from what might develop into a fiasco, or at least draw fire from her new commanding officer. “It’s not my place to criticize your thought process or your methods, but I want you to understand that I’m going to take account for my own actions, and not yours. I only stick my neck out for friends.”

There was that concept again. Friends…

Looking over at him, she can’t help but think that he’s drifting in and out of the conversation. “I can’t believe I’m putting trust in this man…” Now trust… That was something she knew well.

[Guest]

"Ohoho, silly one, tricks are for kids! And you my dear, mistake me for the one in charge. Jurisdiction with some diction over some contradictions should've made it obvious I... am not the one who wields power here. It was never my way to say nay or NEE!" He rhymed like limes rolling it off of his tongue, continuing, "But burning bridges does sounds mighty fun!"

He claps his hands gleefully, waltzing around back and forth, bringing his fingers to his chin jovially with a hearty smile on his lips, rubbing his chin in feigned thoughts whilst listening to her heart-warming/endearing/something to do with moogly feelings words that are meant to convey emotions of some sort as he recalls, he can't make his mind if he should frown, smile, or make a smown! Ah, he'll stick with the smile anyways. Looking at her occasionally as she rubs off on him as nervous.

"Harken to my haughty motherfuckin' lectures! Powers be made by you and symbolic in itself in that way, as I do place my faith in my Father. I am myself and you are yourself, distinctions that you made mark you as being... marked, right." He points his finger at her, stopping in place and looking at her fiercely, be it with accusation or for dramaticism, who knows? Making it seem he was talking about his Father than THE Father. "Intelligence institution initially integrates in incompatibility in integrity, instead! Pick efficiency, silliest of sillies, there is no such thing as... the most dreaded T word in our line of work, it can't happen, and it mustn't be that you care for someone else especially most dreaded."

[Guest]

“You’re not in an anime,” she quips, wondering why anyone, in any state of mind, would stand like that for any reason. However, she was surprised he even heard a word she said. She hadn’t counted on that. As for knowing he was putting trust in him… “Was I too obvious?” she thinks. “Did I overdo it? Maybe it was abnormal... I’ll have to watch my wording more carefully.”

As much as the rhymes and alliteration was getting to her, he did make a good point. Trust wasn’t something she could just throw around. It had to be used carefully, and after much thought…

“Who I decide to trust isn’t your concern, Sergeant,” she replies in a simple tone. She was done putting spins, trying to appeal to what a “standard” human would understand. This man was either out of his mind or simply eccentric, and logic tends to go over the heads of both. All that was left was… Well, nothing, really. No more masks to hide behind.

Her eyes drift around, watching as the civilians were getting rounded up to get shipped off elsewhere. Maybe somewhere here in Central. “Out of curiosity,” she asks, watching the man from the train earlier get led away in a pair of handcuffs, “did you shoot the man that attacked me?”

[Guest]

"Anime? That Aerugese crap kids watch their brains out especially about Pokéymoron?" He retorted, rolling his eyes around not out of sarcasm, but out of wonder just as he mutters in a whisper in the upcoming sentence, "I wonder if I can bootleg a copy of Pokéymorons next month from the 4adults mature edits next month."

Though he was taking back by her next answer, scratching the top of his cap, eyes wider than usual, shocked! Surprised! Aghast! Jibble-jobbled! Happy! Sad! Well, really, he can't get those emotions out of his head, only to shake and get himself back into some of his senses, still pointing fingers, and replies thusly: "YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU *30 seconds later* UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU *Breathes in* said that pretty well, by jolly! It tickled my cranium for a moment and made me think you said something that might impact my development as a person and views of you and allow me to empathize with human life, but really didn't, but fifty points for trying I must add!"

Then there was that awkward pause, as he backed away, step by step back, nostrils flaring as eyes twitching, tensions rising but put off by a suddenly well placed smile that made everything seem so cuddly cheery, lowering his arm and not pointing any longer, but had to speak louder because he kinda made some space between the two, "Which man are we talking about? I shot a couple and lost count."

[Guest]

She wanted to believe that if she were watching this situation unfold, rather than living in it, it’d likely be highly amusing, at least Stuka’s due to growing insanity by the minute. She always had the tendency to imagine herself as the wet-blanket type. Whatever that means…

But perhaps it was her turn to be amused, since it seemed that he was giving his own version of a stirring speech, or maybe an appeal to the only twisted sense of logic he understands right now. If so, then it was truly ironic, because his words were falling on deaf ears. She didn’t say that to be inspiring, act human, or as an appeal to his logic. She merely stating her own viewpoint. “It would seem that he severely overestimates my natural capacity for caring…”

“The man that lunged at me in the train station,” she answers, unconcerned as she notices Stuka back away. “The first, how would you put it… ‘fatty, Cretan terrorist?'” She turns her head slightly in his direction, but doesn’t look at him, instead staring off into the distance, and although sounding slightly amused, she certainly doesn’t show it. “I’m sure he blew right past you on his way to lunge at me. It was a hard sight to miss, Sergeant Stuka. Especially when I took him down.”

She pauses, letting out a silent yawn. “I’m certain you had a reason to shoot him,” she continues. “I take it that, after surviving the blast, he tried to attack you.” She looks at him, making eye contact but somehow staring past him in the process of doing so. "Am I correct?"

[Guest]

First question caused Nikolaus to back away as his eyes dilute, and his smile disappears as his expression is vacant. Pupils growing as his blue eyes seems blacker. Blood streaming down his left nostril as he spun around to show his back to her as he wiped the blood off with the backhand of his glove.

"Heskervilment... HESKervilment... HESKER-MOTHERFUCKING-VILMENT!" He had thought mentally, distressed.

Sucking the blood back into his nostril as he turns around with a happy grin, reaching for his coat pocket as he had pulled a pin on a grenade labeled 'smoke' appropriately, pulling the pin off by flicking his thumb, whipping his arm down as he throws the grenade to the ground. The grenade streaming out smoke as Nikolaus didn't really care much for what she says at this point, his NOSTRILS were of MORE importance than a person of female descent! Giving a quick salute of dismissal to his crown before waving it off, being enveloped in smoke.

"Farewell you smelly taft of peasant cheese! I have enjoyed the company of that which is dairy and o' so hairy! We might... OR MIGHT NOT meet again! Or shall we meet again than not meet after that? I DON'T care! Or do I now? Can't really make up my mind on these matters, but as far as it goes, this is your problem now Fraulein! FARETHEEANYWAYS!"

And so, the outline of his figure in the smoke was concealed completely, as when the smoke cleared out, his form is gone completely as he made a ninja-like disappearance, classic cliché movie material! Then again, he was awfully being rude, question dodging n' all. But as Nikolaus would say, rudeness makes one... buffer and tougher.

[EXIT]

[Aurelius Schwartz]

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