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Edgy time over, now for ice cream
Heart of Tenacity Low Planetary Orbit Station, January 17th 3212

Flynn Taggart
Wildebeast Corporation Debt Salvation Crew Manager
Craving an american hotdog with a side of extra sugar cola at the moment

Heart of Tenacity was a lead ship and a battle hardened vessel that fought through the first war between humans in their space age. The extremists fought hard, but eventually failed to spread their will of violence as the pacifists gained support from neighboring aliens and outnumbered them. Heart of Tenacity fought from the very beginning of the war to its final battle. First built to be a travelling vessel for the pacifists' headquarters, it slowly took modifications to become a war machine. It was a symbol of glory and hope, but also desolation and promised defeat to the foes.
After the final and most grand battle, Heart of Tenacity was retired and remodelled into a Low Planetary Orbit Station, orbitting around the planet of Kepler-62F. It is a symbol of peace and cooperation among all intellectual species that sought to be harmonious with others. Not to mention it is practically used as a meeting place for many in the area, acting as a landmark and a tour spot for Kepler-62F. Pretty ironic, for the gathering that was to meet here wasn't really brought together in good intentions. It was more of a vicious business.
Wildebeast Corporation has decided that one of their Debt Salvation Crew would meet up at this specific station. A sick decision made from a man with a sick taste, if Flynn had to say. Well, how could he object? He was just a simple employee thrown into a cage filled with vicious predators protected only by the small nametag with the Wildebeast logo on it. He had to deal with a whole crew knee deep in the debt, some of which were literally dragged into the Program and didn't really like the management being around them. He had stopped counting the imminent death threats and assaults each after 21 and 35. But such was the life he brought himself into.

Flynn is a skinny man 182 cm tall, wearing a brown suit a bit too big for him, with a purple necktie that had skull patterns sewn in with threads of silver hue. He held a roughly made picket(which was more a big piece of paper with a big W written on it with a marker) as he waited in front of a ship.
The ship, Pertinent Shackles, was a ship possessed by the one and only Wildebeast Corporation. Taken from an ex-marine for his debt, it went through a bit of renovation by the corporation which was willing to pour some money into the old battered ship, for this new type of business that the heads said "would bring a new paradigm to their business"(which, obviously, was the Debt Salvation Program). When Jake, Flynn's coworker, suggested it was probably used countless times throughout loan shark history, he was fired. Oh the humanity.
Pertinent Shackles was a retired model of naval Corvette used by the PlaCo of May V, given the least amount of armaments it could get to survive any attacks but not cause a ruckus against the corporation. Speedy, fairly durable for its age. Enabling its faster-than-light travel was the most costly part, as most of the crucial parts had to be replaced with compatible, newer versions that actually worked instead of making painful grinding noises.


High Priest of Depravity
For his first day on his new job as an indebted sapient, Riezlav Czerna was to serve on board a ship known as the Pertinent Shackles. He did not think that there could be a more fitting name to the extent he doubted that had been its original title. He supposed the Debt Salvation Program had at the very least a tint of irony to its other exploitative dealings. How to identify it? Well, he'd have to simply look. The ID of the vessel had been uploaded to the various electronic systems comprising his heavily modified body of which just a bit over half was the same biomass he was originally born with and even less had not been taken up by the various cybernetics he'd kitted himself out with.

The problem was that there were many ships here with "beaten up and reliable" far from being an uncommmon adjctive one could use to describe them. A ship was an expensive investment and taking an older but not utterly outdated model to retrofit was less expensive than doing the maintenance for and purchase of a newer one. Nobody was going to help him either and truthfully, he did not want to be among these folk. Vreul were not a common sight even in such stations and where they went, his compound ocular domes always noticed a few extra security tailing from afar.

He couldn't fault them. If they knew what he was, they probably would be calling for the local garrison to send in a strike team. It wouldn't be the first time humanity's finest had profile the wrong vrexul. They had the advantage this time around; he needed this mission to go smoothly and adding to his body count was going to do that. There was a very particular throat he would be happy to see weeping before him and his annoyance at these likely corporate-paid goons would have to be endured for now.

Like shark moving through a shoal of fish the crowds would bend around his 8''4 body, allowing him to easily look over the heads of the crowd and let his ocular bio-lens grafts zoom in a particular vessel. Overlaid digital imaging scanned and verified its identity but while one cluster of eyes focused on that, another turned its attention towards the individual standing in front of it. He held a little sign like one of those prosters often seen on human news and wore a strange, ill-fitting suit. Something about him looked quite pathetic but he imagine for a vessel's captain, the correct word was "eccentric".

Riezlav walked towards him and from beneath his carapace, an auxiliary limb emerged with a stapled piece of identification documents. He waved it with said limb in all its spindly, multi-jointed grace. With his immense height it looked like he might be dangling it above him as if mocking him. He wasn't of course. He was just very tall.

Soviet Panda

Red Panda Commanda.
Connor casually strolled through the crowd, his heavy, clomping footfalls announcing his presence for all to hear. And these heavy footfalls weren't merely caused by a human who thought a bit to highly of himself, oh no. These weighty steps were caused because the human was wearing a bulky piece of kit that would have made him look very threatening had he not had it opened up so his soft bits were clearly visible. Nothing shows you mean no harm than by pointing out where to shoot you as if to say "shoot here please".

His faithful Namnid Saber Bub was also hitching a ride on the robust frame of the suite, tactfully sprawled out with at least two of the three pairs of legs underneath them and ready to pounce with the other two showing off her dagger like claws as it lazily pawed at the air. And though her eyes were closed, Bub's ears twitched this way and that, quickly locating and analyzing any strange noises before discarding them after Connor didn't show any sign of distress.

Connor was busy mulling over his papers and occasionally flashed a holo-file into the air, comparing the only slightly flickering ship with a more solid one before closing it and resuming his search. Every ship looked the same to him. Why had he expected corpo's to make this easy? Why couldn't they have said 'it's the hot pink one with chromatic green highlights with a yellow stencil of our logo'? That would have been nice and easy to pick out. Instead all they gave him was a name and ship ID number. It didn't help that some ships had their hull where that number was scorched and blasted to hell and back to the point he wasn't sure if what he was looking at was a 3 or an 8 with the paint scrapped off.

But eventually he found his ship, thanks in no small part to the large crustacean that was dangling papers over the head of undoubtedly a corpo lackey that had either drawn the short straw, or was so far down on the corporate ladder that he was essentially a poorly paid intern. "This the Pertinent Shackle? You Wildebeast?" He asked, Bub deigning to open her eyes at the sound of Connor's voice and look around, calmly taking in the large monstrosity that stood next to Connor. With the eyes of a predator she quickly decided that if she could help it, she did not want to tussle with the hard shelled creature.


Lucky Laki Malakis
Sopho walked through the crowds towards the bustling spaceport, taking every precaution not to be caught. Even among the various races that passed through or called this orbit station, his race sort of stood out. Difficult not to considering he was walking plant with a skin of leaves of attractive purples, pinks and blues. It would not do stand out as some wanted his race captured or dead and he hadnt lived what he had lived through and lived for so long just to be captured by mook trying to earn a quick an easy paycheck by handing him over to his former masters. To that end he took every precaution to hide what he was, he wore a long overcoat, hat and gloves. To onlookers he might have looked like a detective from the human noir films. The only thing he could not hide was the smell, a combination of his own personal scent and the various herbs and other ingredients he carried in a racksack on his back.

As he walked, he soon came onto a hangar where the ship he was looking for was docked. The Pertinent Shackle. He could not say he was the most experienced with ships but he did not like what he saw, an old model who had seen a lot of action due to the rust and blast mask. True it spoke to its durability but it also spoke to how much trouble it found itself in. Even the name did not help either, what was a pertinent shackle anyway? Hardly usual ship nomenclature. Still he had to admit it was likely his opinions were clouded by his misguidance of his new job. Who wouldnt, being blackmailed to join after all. Not to mention being a stooge to one of the biggest corporations out there. Nothing good came from them, he knew from bitter experience. The only good thing is that his role here might be more of a supportive role. He had fought as a soldier and mercenary far too long, maybe this role as a medic might mean he would stay out to the more dangerous excitement. Give him time to work on something more important.

In the end he was stuck and had to make the best of it, like he always had. He took a deep breath and approached the couple of human by the entrance of the ship. "Sopho. Is this where we register? Let get this over with please."


The Warrior-Poet
Through the waves of people, a single figure, wearing a combat flight suit and carrying two back crates, one in each hand, stood out as the crowds moved around him.

"I'm just say I'm surprised is all Brad, I mean aren't you?" Ray said, speaking into his headset. He walked through the crowd, not moving for anyone else, but instead forcing them to move for him. "I mean, I'm betting they were thinking they could just leave military shipping containers in the middle of space, just like you could anywhere in the Irish Republican Systems."

He continued through the crowds as people who saw his patches stepped aside. The marine stars and bars patch and "US COLONIAL MARINE" rocker with his Orbital Assault and Special Operations tabs above it decorated his left arm. Over the right side of his chest was his name, "J. R. Person". On his right arm was the obvious American Flag and below it was the only patch he really could wear(and not gather suspicion), and that was the "Bug Stompers", more officially known as the 3rd Marine Division, J Company. Formerly used in general bug hunts, the "Bug Stompers" have been specialized in combat against more sentient species, such as the Vrexl. He had acquired the patch from an old buddy of his in a trade for a JSOC patch.

"I mean, you leave the shipping containers and go out for lunch, your shit is guaranteed to be there when you get back from the diner and shit right? I mean seriously homes, why would the Chendakis want, 2 tons of expired C4, micro-explosives, and crates of HARs(Harrington Automatic Rifles?) I mean it just doesn't make any sense. Wait, y'know what? They could be using all of that C4 for one, big, fourth of July celebration!" Ray said in the best fake enthusiasm he could manage. "What do you think Brad?" He paused and heard the response. "And screw you too." Ray said, hanging up.

He began searching for the ship, using his well aged technical data tablet to guide him. Ray saw the ship, and had to cock his head. It reminded him a lot of the Essex, in fact it was probably the exact same model. But Ray knew better, and a lot of 'em were sold over the years, and this one was too modified to be his. As he approached the ship, he saw several bugs. And standing out in the debt ridden was a Vrexl. Praying that the thing hadn't seen his patch, Ray "calmly" tore off the velcro "Bug Stompers" patch and shoved it into his pocket. The last thing he wanted was to be know for "Endangering Species", especially that one, of which he had done plenty. He tried to act cool and approached the group, not bothering to introduce himself to the suit, instead deciding to wait until the guy wasn't being overwhelmed by the loan slaves.

Bug Stomper


Colonial Marine Stars and Bars



Karah stepped out of the public transport ship, fastened her backpack, and tightened her grip on the rucksacks' shoulder strap. The ride to the station was pretty much like taking a hover bus or a mono-train, which was both comforting and frustrating at the same time. Due to the resemblance, it took her a surprisingly short amount of time to get used to it and stop glaring at the technology like it was some kind of miracle since it clearly wasn't. It was only public transport after all. She even got used to all the aliens around her rather quickly, as they mostly acted like humans. Even the common language spoken by everyone was practically English, only more evolved. Or devolved, she wasn't really sure, as things that should be words sometimes sounded like grunts or other noises, but that could have been the aliens incorporating words from their own tongues. At any rate, she had a lot to learn but didn't feel like a fish out of water. Not completely, anyway.

What made her feel right at home was the lack of basic humanity displayed by the Wildebeast corporation. They saved the colonists, only to enslave them. And her, respectively. The choice of whether to go dig in a mine for pretty much the rest of her life or to take part in "thrilling" missions was about the last thing they let her choose. Then they told her where to go and gave her a ticket and some rations. Not even actual money, no. She couldn't believe they let her keep her possessions, as few as they were, and didn't even tamper with her prosthetic. As far as she knew.

She realized she had taken a few dozen steps on autopilot. She stopped to look around and orient herself. She was looking for one "Flynn Taggart" and a ship named "Pertinent Shackles". She could have written it down on the datapad integrated into her left arm but her habit of relying on memory got in the way of doing so. No loose ends and all.

Finally, after walking around for what seemed like hours, she saw a man holding up what looked like a sign with a large "W" on it. He was surrounded by a mixed group of aliens and humans that appeared intent on getting his attention.

I swear, if that isn't the man I'm looking for, I'll just run and see how far I can get...

She put on her best friendly face as she approached the group and shouted cheerfully while waving her right hand above her head:

-Good day, gentlemen! Is this ship the "Pertinent Shackles", by any chance?

Vagabond Spectre

Six Thousand Club
Mentions: Nero_Cardia Nero_Cardia SpazTheButcher SpazTheButcher ThatGuyWithSouvlaki ThatGuyWithSouvlaki Soviet Panda Soviet Panda ChasmOfOrganicMatter ChasmOfOrganicMatter
Interactions: RandomBlobMan RandomBlobMan

The Heart of tenacity was bustling with life like any other day before, the sentient lives of all species walking, talking, and interacting with each other throughout. Lights and signs everywhere give a vibrant look around to counter the dullness of exposed metal rebars, circuit panels, dangling wires, and even glass windows. Almost no different from the regular city on a colonized planet.

Amongst the crowd, a peculiar Human woman with Blonde hair roams the bustling station. She appears to be just another with the crowd if not for her face so blank, that she could have been mistaken as an android to some eyes of others. Her gaze dead set to the road ahead of her, free from distractions. Today is different, Pertinent Shackles chains in a new crew that she will meet very soon. The station is no stranger to the blonde woman, taking alternate shorter paths and ones with less bustling people. It appears she knows the place like it's the back of her hand. It didn't take an hour before she returns to her designated ship.

It appears the new crewmates are punctual. She can see the group standing even from her distance, standing before the ship, assuming waiting for everyone. Upon treading a few steps closer now, she could also make out a familiar figure, her manager, Flynn Taggart. She only knows one man who wears such a slightly tacky neck tie like that. Arriving behind the crew with her footsteps nearly inaudible with the bustling other footsteps and voices all around, she made presence known with an unanticipated greeting. "Yes, The ship before you is the Pertinent Shackles. That man over there is our current manager from Wildebeast corp. Greetings and good day to all of you." Also answering the questions hanging from the new crew. Making her way to the front of the crew until she aligns side-by-side with Flynn. She is a human with silky golden blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. Doesn't appear to be all that tall, and her skin almost glows. Donning the standard astrosuit that the crew may have seen variations of around the station, hers colored in pearl white with a few stripes of green. "This is the new ones, correct?" She lowered her voice as she spoke to Flynn. On another note, she carries with her a double-wrapped plastic bag, with those of strong sense of smell can identify a warm grilled and cheesy scent from it.


Devil woman
As the FIDS on the large digital screen mounted just above the entrance to the Space Station’s main information centre displayed the passing of another hour, in the thick shadows cast between the opposite two buildings, something stirred. A barely audible grunt could be heard as something seeming heavy was heaved from the ground, followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of metal tapping on concrete. A moment later, a piece of darkness tore itself from the shadows and quickly merged with the unending flow of the crowd. If you weren’t looking precisely at the spot, you would easily miss it.

The cluster carried the figure forward and it obeyed the unwritten rules of the masses without question, keeping up a stable pace that was neither too slow nor too fast and pushy. The whole crowd was made up of such a huge variety of unique alien species all dressed and equipped in gear appropriate for their culture and lifestyle that not a single one could truly stand out from the rest or grab your attention. It offered a disguise that was both right in your face and under your nose.

Seemingly satisfied with the reached destination, the figure suddenly dove through the swarm at a diagonal line and emerged on the side of the landing dock. It now stood outside its comfort zone, alone, bare and unprotected, offering any watchful eye a good look of itself.

Keiran was sporting his usual attire – a long and patchy hooded coat with a cut similar to a classic Inverness cape that had definitely seen better days. Fine chainmail peeked underneath and, from afar, could easily be mistaken for a knitted jumper. A dark cloth covered up the lower half of a face that would otherwise be seen under the hood.

Despite the attempts at disguising his racial characteristics, all tricks the Gehennian had at his disposal were lost when he was out in the open as he was now. A pair of curved horns peeked through strategically placed slits in the hood. Fingerless bracers exposed sharp and crooked claws. The partially closed front failed to conceal powerful digitigrade legs and a long reptilian tail that swiped from side to side with unease.

A woven lidded basket half his size was slung around his shoulder and contributed to an already slightly hunched posture. It was wrapped in a long sheet of linen cloth, which served as a strap that allowed the wearer to carry the weight similar to a backpack. In his other hand, Keiran carried a long polearm. Its blade was placed in a leather scabbard and the weapon itself currently served the purpose of a trekking pole.

As the Gehennian scanned the dock, it was the impressive crew that first caught his attention, then the spaceship behind them that was much less so. He was inclined to believe that he too was expected at the meeting, taking the order to appear into account. So without further ado, Keiran moved towards the gathered crew, his keen eyes gathering as much visual information about each individual as they could.

The closer he got, the more senses joined the investigation. Small exchanges of introductions reached pointy ears tucked underneath the hood. A keen olfactory system picked up a cocktail of both familiar and entirely unique, unidentifiable smells – a task he’d have to invest some more time into but all in due course.

Keiran arrived just in time to hear Sarah’s more formal introduction up close. He stopped a few steps away from the main gathering and lowered the basket to the ground. It hit the concrete with a soft thud and announced his presence. Craving a short rest from lugging baggage, the Gehennian casually leaned forward on the polearm, crossed his legs and awaited further instructions.


Edgy time over, now for ice cream
It did not take long for the crew to arrive one by one. Flynn had no time on his hand to spend reading the files of these poor souls and, naturally, was surprised to find such a delicate mix of all kinds of people from around the world. Wildebeast sure did not discriminate. It took from all, and took some more from all. Flynn almost let out a sigh of relief as his fellow colleagues of WIldebeast appeared, assisting him in the confirming of the fact that he indeed was of the company's affiliation and that the ship behind him was too.
"Ah, okay... alright, everyone."
A pair of brown eyes scanned the gathered crew before him. Could they-he- survive this trip? The big Vrexul guy definitely would, under the assumption that they never ran into anyone with something used to blow up vehicles. Flynn started with the hypothetical elephant in the room, quickly scanning through the papers the big shrimp person had shook in front of his face.
"Uh-huh. Mmm. Yes. Yes, indeed. Welcome aboard."
The next was a man with what seemed like an otherworldly pet. Flynn did remember seeing someone with a pet debt on the paper. He turned to the others in line as well.
"Name was... Connor, was it? Welcome. And Sopho. Hello. You must be uhhh... Karah. Yes, Karah. Wonderful day, gentlefolks. Night. Whatever."
The manager gave a nod to Sarah and Ray. Then, noticing the new arrival of another one, he gave the figure a nod.
"I'm glad you all could make it to the Program. As some of you may or may not know, signing up for the Debt Salvation Program and not complying to our contact may result in one or more Repo Squads being dispatched to hunt you down, dead or alive. Usually half alive, and in a worse condition with even more debt in your hand. This also may happen if you try to verbally, physically, or in any other way, attempt to assault the manager and the corporation is informed of such behavior. Blah blah. Be nice and be done. Three jobs and we'll all be off happily ever after."
Flynn slowly folded the piece of paper he was holding into a small square and tucked it into his pants pocket.
"Now, any questions?"

ChasmOfOrganicMatter ChasmOfOrganicMatter Soviet Panda Soviet Panda ThatGuyWithSouvlaki ThatGuyWithSouvlaki SpazTheButcher SpazTheButcher Nero_Cardia Nero_Cardia Vagabond Spectre Vagabond Spectre Verena Verena


High Priest of Depravity
"The first mission. Details."

In spite of his enormous height, Riezlav did not have a very loud voice. It was however clearly not a natural one. Filtered through multiple layers of modulation and distortion, it nonetheless still had the inflection of a living and breathing entity but one that was concealing itself for whatever reason. Few people were going to argue with someone who could likely crush their skull in a single hand, especially when the voice was best described as a slowed down buzzsaw dragging itself over dripping fresh meat.

"I want to know how they will collect our pay. I was told they would send someone to collect."

His head swivelled towards the ship and they could almost hear the complex bioelectronics buzzing and twittering, as if scanning for anything of use... or for hidden prey.

"If you have additional weaponry on the vessel, I want to know about it. I am... under-armed, by the standards of where I am from."


The Warrior-Poet
"The job is a snatch and grab on some corporate complex. Get the data, get out." Ray said, cutting in. He didn't know much about the captain, but briefings and combat were his thing, not some corpo monkey's. Then again, that was why he was hired.

"Speaking of which sir, the briefing didn't elaborate on what kind of contact we will be facing once we get boots on the ground. Is this going to be a stand up fight or just another bug hunt?" He regretted the words as they came out of his mouth and shot a sideways glance at the Vrexl, but pretended that it didn't happen. After all, you didn't just drop years of jargon ingrained into your mind and actions. "I need to know for flight reasons. If we are dealing with anything sentient, I would like to be prepared for any kind of surface to air or if they have access to orbital scanners."


Lucky Laki Malakis
More and more people seemed to have gathered to the ship, a band of misfits for sure and a surprising number of humans too. There was a time that humans were are in the larger galaxy, but suddenly they seemed to be everywhere and in great amounts. Nothing inherently bad about humans, but it is harder to hide in these places where the number of races is increasingly lower. Still, he was thinking like he was still on the run, still a fugitive from his creators. He did not need to hide any more, he was under the supposed protection of the debter corporation after all. However much it is worth. They won't just give him away now without getting some use from him. Still, he did not feel like he could relax.

Among the chatter, soon the one who is called Fynn spoke up and greeted everyone with the standard company line. "Charming." Sopho commented generally not caring much whether he was heard or not heard. However, chatter soon turned to other matter as one of the humans, male, Sopho figured, spoke up with surprisingly authority and knowledge about the situation. "Glad someone knows something about what is going on." Sopho commented sarcastically. "Nothing like being part of a group that knows what it is doing. "


Edgy time over, now for ice cream
"Trust me, you're better off not knowing at least half the things you are asked to do."
Flynn pulled out a pair of glasses and a tablet, scrolling through what seemed like a white screen to the others. A slight frown emerged on his forehead before disappearing as the manager raised his head to face the party. The details were just as he remembered. Not a hustle for him, who'd be staying up in the ship, but a bit of a nuisance for folks that'd have to go down there and do the dirty job. As all jobs were.
Grey&Mitz Fund was a (meager) competition that Wildebeast had. Of course, until one of the experiments that they were funding went out of hand recently. There were lawsuits, bankruptcy, and the remainder of the company being quite literally disintegrated with Wildebeast's people getting to work. What remained were the ruins of the business they had their hands on. One took the interest of the big man's eyes. A biological research project, hardly announced to the world. Just a few excited SNS posts from a careless intern who got fired five minutes after posting said messages.
"Anyways, we've got ourselves no time to waste. First one up is a pretty simple job. Go in, get the package, get out. We don't know the exact kind of enemies you're gonna run into, but it's probably not that smart. Think something like a few angry critters."
He folded the glasses and tucked them into his pocket. The tablet followed, folded in half and lazily tucked into the jacket.
"You need to get into an abandoned research lab, find their high security data storage, and bring as much of the data you find there. Download it onto a portable drive, rip the computer out of its place, whatever. As far as the data's safe, you're good. Speaking of which, while technically all income you gain by completing this mission goes to erasing your debt, there will be some bonus income that you will be able to save for yourself should you bring spoils of war."


Karah listened carefully to the mission briefing, such as it was, and was not too happy to hear that she'll be out of her element on this one. She had hoped that the missions would at least involve corporate espionage and, respectively, sabotage, though it seems she overslept for that part. Data retrieval sounded more like her cup of tea and she might even be able to help with it.

-"A few angry critters", you say... - she spoke up after the man had finished his last sentence. - Is there even a slight chance you might elaborate a bit more on that or are we to assume that we’ll face grotesque monsters until proven otherwise?

Just as she said that, she started closely examining her companions and grading them by which one looks like they could be the best meat shield one could use in case of monster encounters of the grotesque kind.

Perhaps the insectoid? He appears to be the largest of the bunch.


High Priest of Depravity
"I second their question. You cannot send us in blind and expect us to fight at optimal capacity. Let us know our targets so they may be less of a problem when we encounter them. You may see me as a guarantee of your safety but I am very much meat and blood beneath my carapace."

This time, his voice grew in volume as if it was not booming out of speakers but emerging from some great chasm in the ground. His tone itself was not hostile but the scrapes that underlined his speech did not make him appear very patient.

"Of course, some things are better discussed in privacy. We have our crew. We need our briefing and any details on the area of operation."

It was impossible to tell where his eyes were looking due to the apparent lack of pupils but Karrah's gaze did not go unnoticed.

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