Greeting from The Lady Mage!

Hello, and welcome to Chapter 7 of Happenstance! It's been a loooooooong time since I updated. I'm sorry! Life gets in the way sometimes, and it's been a long summer! (Bring on fall..) Anyway, thank you so much for your patience, and thank you so much for letting me tell you a story!

Special thanks to my friends Scifiromance and Starshine! Couldn't do this without you! If you haven't checked out Scifiromance's author page, CHECK IT OUT!

~The Lady Mage

Obligatory Legalities: Don't own it. No money made. Funsies only!

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Happenstance: noun: 1. A chance happening or event. 2. Coincidence.

XXX

*CLANG*

Chakotay startled, both arms flailing out in surprise. Unfortunately, he was still hidden beneath the shadowed helm console, so one arm was trapped beside him and the other shot out to thunk painfully against the hard metal shielding their bodies, sending the phaser in his hand skittering across the floor. He grit his teeth, shaking the ache from his knuckles. "Mierda." Behind him, he could feel Seven squirm, reacting to his movement, but she made no noise. He guessed that she must still be asleep. How had he possibly fallen asleep? Even with their overnight hike, they had rested and napped before heading out, and stopped here and there on the way. Where was the adrenaline to keep him awake and alert in a time of crisis?

Outside, the smell of roasting food was beginning to waft in- meat and potato and fire. Chakotay's stomach growled as his mouth watered. It had been closer to midnight since they had eaten last. It wasn't supposed to have taken them this long to grab their supplies and head back to the felled log they had hidden the tent under. The plan had been to get in, get out, and then go sleep the afternoon away up in the woods before heading back to their clearing. An armload of potatoes awaited them by the tent. Little use to them now, he supposed, swallowing.

Even salivating, his throat felt dry. The heat and humidity in the shuttle was overbearing, stealing all the moisture from his lips and eyes as he laid there. The thought that he hadn't been in such heat since he had last stood on Dorvan V's dusty soil was a painful one.

Behind him, Seven hummed as she stretched, slowly waking. "Still there?" she whispered, her voice thick and low with sleep.

"Still there." he confirmed softly. "By smell alone, I'd guess they were having a barbeque."

"Well, isn't that nice.." she grumbled, her own stomach growling in response.

Chakotay snorted, surprised. "I suppose it is." His humor bled away as he instantly felt five degrees hotter. Seven slid his discarded shirt up and wiped it across his chest. Just as he whipped his head around to complain it was pulled away, and used to wipe the sheen of sweat from her face. After shoving the shirt back down between them, she shimmied up to his side and put her head down on the dried patch of his chest. For two seconds, he anticipated the silver starburst on her cheek to be cold- he hoped it was if only to cool his over heated flesh where it touched. Instead, it was just as warm as the rest of her cheek, undistinguishable from the surrounding skin. When she didn't move, he whispered. "What are you doing?"

She sighed, turning her head to see out past him, unintentionally tickling his chin with her hair. "It is hot back here.. and I am finding it difficult to breathe.." She began to withdraw, internally cursing herself for her boldness.

Chakotay sighed, moving his arm up to hold her as she was. "Okay." he whispered. "It's just hot in here."

She hummed in agreement before turning her attention out to where the noises were still coming from. "What do you think they are doing? Besides barbequing?"

"I don't know. Building something, I think. I saw them pulling logs down the beach. Hopefully they aren't moving in." He felt her jerk at the suggestion, the hand splayed over his diaphragm spasming. "I'm sure they're just curious.. they will probably leave soon.."

She sighed again, seeing through his placating tone. "We will be long cooked by then."

He snorted. "Well, at least we can provide them a good snack before they go. Starfleet hospitality." He could feel her grin, her head barely shaking, one strand of cornsilk blonde swishing across his smirking lips. "I hope they choke on my bones."

"Here, here." She agreed. "Can you see anything now?"

"No." he whispered, "I'm gonna sneak down into the aft and-"

"You'll be seen!" The hand over his diaphragm grew heavy, gently holding him from moving. "We don't know what they will do if-"

"We can't stay in here like this forever." He turned his body to face her, making her scoot back against the wall. "I might be able to tell what they are doing, or if they are really setting up shop or not. You can stay up here if you want."

By his tone of voice, she knew she couldn't dissuade him. With a small sigh, she nodded, watching him turn back and shimmy out of their hidey-hole. At the last second, she reached out with her human hand and grabbed the fabric over his hip. "Be careful."

The Commander nodded, slipping free and easing up onto his haunches. At the archway between the aft and the cockpit, he slowly peeked around the corner. Dozens of natives still milled about on the beach, none of which were paying particular attention to the shuttle. Most were eating, men sitting in rows and women bringing them great hunks of browned meat and roasted purple potatoes on sticks. His stomach growled again as the breeze blew the smell his way.

Along the waterline, children continued to play, sat along the water's edge molding shapes into the sand, splashing about, and chasing one another. Now and then, one of the women would yell out to them, drawing them up to eat their dinner before setting them free again. They all looked relatively peaceful- just a tribe of people sharing a meal. Again, Chakotay could only watch in interested wonder. His father would be having a field day right now- taking notes and trying to make contact... and here he was cowering in a shuttle, watching his father's dream eat their dinner while he sat hungry.

"How many do-?"

Seven's voice washed over his head like a bucket of ice water, jump-starting his heart. He bit his tongue to keep from yelping in shock, whipping around to see her also surprised face as she stumbled back onto her backside. Chakotay leaned heavily against the archway, his face settling into a deep irritated scowl. "What?!" he hissed.

The chastised expression didn't last long on Seven's face. It wasn't as if she had purposefully tried to scare him. "How many natives do you see?"

"¿Cuántos?" he spat. "Un putaro de gente. ¿Qué quieres decir 'how many'?" He gestured irritably past him. "Mira." Carefully, quietly, he moved down into the aft, keeping close to the wall. Watching the visible natives through the scar like a hawk, he crept up to it until he was plastered to the wall just beside it. He paused to glance back at Seven before he slowly turned his body so that he could get a better look outside without being seen.

There was at least a hundred people in his line of sight alone- not counting the ones on the other side of the shuttle or in the woods beyond. From his new vantage point, he could see towards the tail of their craft. Two of the white-barked trees were planted upright in the sand with smaller logs crossbeamed on top of them in a lattice. Over the lattice were several large white animal hides- perhaps the hides of the natives' lunch. Under the pergola structure's shade, several women were making quick work of a basket of some yellow roots the size of their hands, peeling its dark skin while they hummed the same tune.

The shrill laughter of a group of children drew his eyes back down the beach. Another white-barked pole was planted in the sand thirty yards from the pergola, but this one was on its own. Several of the tan-skinned children were circling it. More specifically, they were circling a man who was tied to the pole. This one was dressed differently from the others- without the white breeches or poncho or moccasin. Instead, he wore a blue woven loincloth and a green vest. His feet were wrapped with corded sandals, and his black hair was coiled on top of his head in a messy knot. The children were kicking sand at him. Others were throwing rocks. Several bleeding wounds pocked his skin, but nobody said a word in his defense.

"A prisoner?" Chakotay whispered.

Curious, Seven followed Chakotay's example, silently slipping along the wall until she was at his side. He leaned back enough that she could see around him. "Where?" she asked.

"Down the beach." he answered, "Tied up."

Seven spotted the man and observed the taunting children. "I see him. I wonder what he did."

"No sé." the Commander shrugged. "He's different."

"Apparently, that's a crime in these parts." hissed the blonde.

"He's dressed different anyway." continued Chakotay. "Maybe he is from a neighboring tribe? A prisoner of war? Maybe he's one of them but he broke one of their laws and he is being punished. Who knows?"

Seven was quiet for a minute, watching the prisoner turn his head to avoid a face full of sand. When she spoke, it was so soft that Chakotay almost couldn't hear her over the tribe outside. "That could have been you."

The hairs on his arms prickled and stood on end. His nod was grim, his lips set in a line as he agreed with her. "Yes. It could have been." He felt her hand slip into his again, tugging him back towards the cockpit. Perhaps a bit of a retreat was in order. So far, the natives were doing nothing to suggest they were leaving, so there was nothing to do but wait. Seven didn't wait until he prodded her to slip beneath the helm, and he didn't wait for her imploring look to follow her. At least in sleep- however fitful- they wouldn't be hungry.

XXX

Seven woke first. The ambient noise outside the shuttle was growing louder. What hours before had been speaking voices and song had now become aggressive shouts and chanting. All the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end before she even opened her eyes- not that opening her eyes did her any good besides reassuring herself that there wasn't a native in the cockpit with them. It was just her and Chakotay as it should be.

Beside her, Chakotay's sleeping hand wandered from its place on her stomach around to her waist, pulling her closer to him. A breath sighed past her lips as she allowed herself to turn into his unconscious embrace. He then stretched out, the arm holding her to him tightening. She hummed unapologetically. Even in the heat, the gentle compression felt good somehow.

"¿Que..?" Chakotay murmured, waking to the raising of voices outside their hidey-hole.

"I don't know." she whispered, lifting her head to try and see over him.

Loosening his hold on the blonde beside him, Chakotay turned his body and slid out from beneath the console. The second he crawled into the archway between the cockpit and aft, the noise outside hit its crescendo. Startled, he scooted back, knocking into Seven following behind him. When his movement had no effect on the ululating voices outside, he figured the rise in volume hadn't come because he had been spotted. A few tense moments passed, him braced beside the archway and Seven steadying herself crouched at his side with a hand on his knee. The voices became louder for a heartbeat more before a sharp shrill scream rose over the din.

And then it was quiet.

Seven and Chakotay shared a confused look. It was as if someone had turned off a speaker. There was not one voice- not one baby's cry, not one child's giggle, not one elder's cough. The only sound was the gentle lap of the water against the side of the shuttle, and the soft whistle of a breeze blowing through the scar. Chakotay risked a peek, leaning out just enough to see past the scar. The natives he could see were all standing still, solemnly looking towards the end of the shuttle out of Chakotay's line of sight. Like a movie set on pause, they stood silent and sentinel until as one, they turned back towards the red dirt mesa, and began to walk.

"Can you see?" Seven whispered behind him, the hand on his knee moving to grasp his forearm.

"They're walking." he answered quietly. "Back East."

"Towards the caves?"

"Yeah."

With the surge of confidence that came with the natives perhaps finally leaving, Seven leaned forward and watched alongside him, counting the backs of dark heads as they filed past. There were several stragglers behind the mass of natives. All were men, each with a bow in one hand and an arrow nocked, protecting their tribe from behind as they slowly marched away. Seven could feel the relief flood over her.

"We should sit tight for a while yet." Chakotay turned to her with serious eyes. "To make sure they are good and gone."

"Right." agreed Seven. She'd sit there until nightfall if she had to and be happy for it so long as no natives were near. The quiet rumble of her empty belly was an easy price to pay.

"I'm gonna go look again." He gently shook her hand off his arm, slipping down into the aft on his haunches.

Curious, too, Seven crept down into the aft with him, making a beeline for the edge of the water as it lapped along the side of the shuttle's broken lockers. She cupped her hands in the cool water, but paused before bringing the liquid to her lips. Black silt and particulate settled into the grooves in her palms, outlining the silver webbing. The natives must have stirred it up with their activities. Instead of drinking, she brought it up and splashed it across her face, nearly humming in relief as cold rivulets ran down her neck and into the gapped neckline of her borrowed shirt.

Chakotay crawled to the scar, bracing himself up on it with one hand and slowly leaning forward to see outside. The beaches were empty now but for a thousand footprints upsetting the sand. He leaned up, craning his neck to see towards the hatch.

A startled hiss escaped his lips, alerting Seven before Chakotay had even ducked down, raising up to peek once more with the same outcome. Seven crawled to him. "What is it?"

Chakotay put a finger to his lips. "One out there. Sitting."

'One?' she mouthed. He gestured for her to look for herself, sliding back enough to let her squeeze between himself and the jagged hole. Tentatively she leaned up, her eyes drinking in and analyzing her surroundings. There was an empty beach, a stretch of trampled grasses. At the end of their shuttle, just outside the reach of the water's edge, a tall pole had been planted. Just beneath the tree trunk turned pole, leaned against its rough side, was another wooden object- rounded and stretching off out of Seven's field of vision. Sat on the other side of the rounded wood was whom Chakotay had seen. The back of someone's dark-haired head lounged on the edge of the wood, one arm tossed out to dangle carelessly over the edge.

Seven ducked back down, her eyes finding Chakotay's. "Just him?"

Chakotay shrugged. "Don't know." He prodded Seven out of the way, looking back out. "Hasn't moved yet."

"Perhaps, as Tom would say, he.. partied too hard." she whispered, moving back to the water, taking her boots off and sliding her bare feet into the cool liquid.

Maybe." Chakotay whispered, smirking at her comment while backing off from the scar. He gestured to the cockpit. "Okay.. we can pack up all that wire.. and when we are packed and ready, we'll rush him."

Seven snorted. "Rush him?"

"If there's just one of them, we can take him." Chakotay explained, glancing back to the scar. "We have the phaser.." When he leaned forward, he could see the little phaser still on the floor from earlier- useless against a horde of natives, but quite effective against just one, solitary guard. "Stun him and run for the woods."

Following his line of sight, Seven saw the discarded phaser near the opps station. It had been especially useful against the native in the cave before. Her confidence boosted by his plan, she nodded, meeting his eyes again. "Okay." When he nodded, she followed him up to the cockpit, quietly creeping after him. In their struggle to be silent, the packing of their bundles of wire took three times as long as it should have. Seven, knowing she didn't want to come back to the shuttle until she absolutely had to, went ahead and rechecked the wiring on the beacon while Chakotay pulled his shirt back on over his head and stacked their haul next to the archway. Afterwards, they milled about in the cockpit, silently looking for any other resource they could glean.

An hour after they had packed everything away found the two sitting opposite each other in the cockpit, each with their own bit of broken shuttle wall to fan themselves. Their bags were stacked at the edge of the water, tied together with wire to keep them from dropping any in their escape.

Chakotay set his piece of shuttle down before using the tail of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow before it could roll into his eyes. "Alright." he said softly, taking to his feet, "Ready?" He reached his arm down to her, hand open.

Seven put her own fan down beside her as she took his hand, steeling her resolve with a clench of her jaw. "Ready." she confirmed.

With ease, he pulled her up to stand. "Okay, come on."

The hatch was nowhere near silent- the sound of gears grinding and air being forced out of the valve in the pneumatic hinge was louder than the vacuuming swoosh of displaced water being moved around the heavy hatch door, sloshing up into the shuttle and onto the beach to reattain equilibrium. Chakotay's arm was out the door and pointed towards the direction the native had been before he had room to slip out ahead of Seven. He expected the native to have jumped up and spun around- expected an arrow pointed in his face, a sharp yell to bring back the rest of the tribe or to any stragglers prowling the woods beyond the beach. But the man lay still.

With a steeling breath, Chakotay slunk up out of the water, his eyes boring in the back of the native's dark head. He could see now that the person was resting in a canoe long enough to lay in, the carved vessel leaned against two of the pagoda's support poles. The whole side of the canoe had been decorated with symbols in brown mud that was mirrored on the poles the craft was leaned upon. Stacked around the canoe were dozens of flat grass baskets full of provisions- vegetables and cloth. Chakotay guessed it was for the native, asleep and unaware.

The hatch and water had already gone silent besides the big drops rolling off the end of it. Their escape had been anything but quiet. What a time for a guardian to fall asleep. Still out of their line of sight, he tensed and blew a quick breath through his lips. "Psst!"

"Asleep?" Seven whispered, reaching out and tugging Chakotay's free hand. "We can run!"

The Commander pulled her back to his side, his hand clamping over hers when he realized what the markings were. "Wait." The copper scent hit him square between the eyes. "Blood." he hissed. "Spirits." He staggered forward a step, keeping Seven pushed squarely behind him as he rounding the baskets enough to see the man in the canoe.

Or, what was left of him anyway.

Two bloody, empty eye sockets stared out at him, bloody tears painting a once tanned face red. The beaded vest had been cut open along with the man's chest. His heart- Chakotay guessed it was his heart- rested in the man's lap in a little basket of blood-stained flowers. "Dios mio.."

"What is-" Seven cut her question off with a gasp as she peered around Chakotay's shoulders. A lifetime's worth of seeing the ins and outs of assimilation chambers didn't prepare her for the cold shock that froze her spine and ribcage at the mutilated humaoid before them. The thought that they had been scuttling around inside the shuttle as quietly as possible to not be heard by a dead man made her insides squirm. The shrill scream they had heard before the natives had filed away must have come from this man. They had listened to him being murdered while they were curled up safe and hidden in the shuttle. She turned her head as her stomach rolled.

"...mierda…" Chakotay breathed, tearing his eyes away from the gory scene to look back at the hatch. The same brownish red symbols on the poles of the pergola and the canoe the corpse sat in were drawn on the end of their shuttle. Where the water had touched them as the hatch opened to let them out, the dried blood ran in pink streaks down the shiny metal. "Esos cabrones.."

"What is all this?" Seven asked, her voice still soft as though she was afraid to be loud yet. She toed a basket of bright yellow roots mixed with the same flowers cradling the dead native's heart.

Chakotay turned his head to look down around them. Several baskets were filled with the potatoes they had been subsisting on while others held flowers or bundles of cloth or piles of bloody meat. He curled his lip at the basket of flesh at his feet, guessing it was the intestine of some large animal.. and hoping it wasn't the intestine of the man flayed before them. He chanced another look at the corpse, feeling only a little relieved when he saw that the man's abdominal wall seemed intact.

"Why?" Seven whispered, trying to wrap her head around the scene. She finally released her grip on Chakotay's hand to step towards the other side of the pergola, her eyes cataloguing the contents of the grass baskets on that side.

Survival instinct finally roared to life inside Chakotay, chasing away the cold unease that had frozen him in place. Seven moving away from him snapped him out of the disgusted reverie he was stuck in. "We should take some of this." he said.

Seven's head whipped back around to him, meeting his eyes. "What? What if they come back for it?"

He shook his head. "They're not gonna come back for it."

"How do you know that?"

"Because." he answered, following her over to see what was inside the baskets at her feet. "This is an offering or something. Look at it."

"An offering?" The blonde scowled, reassessing the scene. "So they kill that man and this is supposed to follow him into the afterlife?" she asked. "And you want to disturb it?"

Chakotay lifted a bow and quiver full of white arrows from the baskets at her feet. "He's not using it." he quipped, testing the tension of the bowstring. "Besides.. I think it's part of it. Like it's all an offering. I mean, look at him."

"I don't want to look at him, Chakotay."

He ignored her comment, and the arms she crossed over her chest. "He was dressed differently, and they had him tied up earlier. He isn't- or wasn't- one of them. He's a sacrifice."

"To what?"

The bow was slung over his shoulder with the quiver strap as the commander continued to rifle through the baskets that Seven stubbornly ignored. "I don't know. To the shuttle, maybe?"

"They don't even know what the shuttle is." Seven hissed, watching him pull out a large bundle of colorful cloth and unfold it to reveal a woven blanket. Animals resembling Terran deer and some kind of large brown buffalo creature were embroidered into the crude blanket.

"Exactly." Chakotay said, balling the blanket up and pushing it into Seven's arms. "They might think it is a piece of a god or something. A fallen star?"

"Chakotay-"

"So they leave it offerings hoping that it won't harm them." He picked up another stack of similar blankets and put them on top of the one Seven held. "And since the shuttle is ours.. Seven, we should take this with us. It could be the difference between life and death for us. We need all the supplies we can get our hands on."

Seven sighed, accepting his logic. It didn't make her feel any better about it. She wanted nothing to do with the dangerous natives- and that included the things they left behind. "..We can't carry all of this." she mumbled, glancing around at the potatoes and roots, purposefully keeping her eyes away from the bloody mess in the canoe behind her.

"No, we can't." agreed Chakotay. "But we could put it in that canoe and float it with us like we did our other supplies."

"What?!" Seven's eyes crawled back over the corpse sitting in the bloody canoe. "No!" She shook her head, dropping the blankets back into Chakotay's arms. "No, Chakotay."

"What's wrong?" he asked, half amused and half annoyed at her attitude. Since when did Seven act like this? Where was the logical cool-headed crewman he had gone on this mission with? Had a few nights of real danger bled the aloofness out of her?

"That's his canoe. I don't want to touch it!" The look of confusion that crossed Chakotay's face was comical, but the blonde didn't budge. Instead, she shook her head and turned from him, busying herself with gathering up the baskets with potatoes in them.

"Are you serious right now?" Chakotay mumbled to himself, turning back to the corpse behind him. How was he going to get the man out of the canoe? With a sigh, he began to move the baskets near the canoe away, stacking them haphazardly behind him for Seven to deal with. "Alright, buddy.." he murmured, finally standing over the unfortunate native.

"Are you sure you want to move him?" Seven asked quietly behind him, using some cable to tie two baskets into a clamshell for transporting the potatoes inside.

"No." Chakotay answered honestly. "But how else are we going to get all this stuff home? And don't you think having a canoe would be a good thing? We can get here and back faster. No overnight trek in the woods. Make a quick getaway if we need to."

"A canoe would be.. a plus." Seven said softly. "You're right."

"Yeah." Chakotay didn't feel right, but survival won out. He grabbed the end of the canoe and gave it a yank further up onto the beach, pulling it past the back log supporting it. Without the beam, it was easy for him to turn the small vessel over, effectively dumping the body and the basket with his.. property.. in it out onto the warm sand. He righted the canoe and began to drag it out and around the pergola, past Seven and the rest of the baskets. Knowing it would float off if he put it in the water, he paused and leaned it against the other logs, ready to be filled.

"Do you.. intend to leave him like that?" Seven asked. Laying in the sand face-down, the native was easier to look at. The basket that had been in his lap was now beneath him, the corner sticking out near his ribs, but the gory bits on it still hidden in the sand.

"We don't have a shovel to bury him." Chakotay said.

"No." Seven shook her head, turning her attention back to her packing. "We do not."

Still.. Maybe it was the Indian in him that put the sudden stone in his stomach as he looked at the man laying prone in the sand. There was a part of him that pitied the man- wondered what he had done to end up like this. With an irritated breath forced through his teeth, he rounded the pergola again until he was in front of the man. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed the back of the man's vest and hauled him back up until the corpse was resting against the back pole nearest the hatch. Chakotay grabbed the basket and used the edge of it to fish up the sandy, bloody heart before shoving it back in the man's lap. Before he had time- or the desire- to check his work, he was at the water's edge to wash the blood from his hands.

"Are you alright?" Seven asked, watching him flick the water from his fingertips before rubbing his hands dry on his pants.

"Yeah." he answered, giving the sitting corpse a wide berth. "Let's just get this loaded up." he said, grabbing a bundle of fabric and dropping it into the canoe. "Didn't you say you wanted to take a panel off the wing or something?"

XXX

"Alright, that's all of it." Chakotay said, carrying the last of their bags from the woods to load into the canoe. He glanced back down the beach towards where they had left the shuttle behind. From this angle, they couldn't see the pole that the body was leaned against. Even so, another chill ran down his spine. Seven's earlier words had struck their chord- he could have easily been the one to meet that fate.

"Here." The Commander jumped at Seven's voice, lost in his thoughts long enough to not notice her having approached him. She pressed one of their cooked potatoes into his free hand, the top half already peeled and ready to eat.

"Thanks." Chakotay smiled, his stomach growling. "Where did you put the panel?"

"In your bag in the canoe with the tent." Seven answered, following him to the water's edge, her own potato in hand. She tossed her skins in the water, watching as a school of blue and silver fish was quick to claim them. "Fish." She resisted the urge to dig out the tricorder. All she really wanted in that moment was to put space between herself and the shuttle.

"What? Oh." Chakotay looked down at the clear water. "They look like white bass."

"White bass?"

"A specie on Terra. Tom has a holodeck program.. we went fishing a couple of times. Us and Harry and Roberto. Bee tried it, but she didn't have the patience."

"..oh." Seven frowned, watching the last peel disappear into the gaping mouth of the biggest fish. She wondered briefly if she would have liked fishing. She certainly hadn't enjoyed Captain Proton, but that was so soon after her being severed from the Borg. At that point, she hadn't been able to understand the nuance- or to understand that Tom was just trying to be nice to her- to help her learn how to fit in.

"..Seven?"

Chakotay's hand waved in front of her face, pulling her out of her thoughts. "I apologize." she said, lifting the bags at her feet and putting them in the canoe, hiding her blush. "Did you say something?"

"Nah." He shook his head, keeping his eyebrows from raising by sheer will. He dumped his own load into the canoe, catching a glimpse of her red cheeks. He still liked the color pink on her cheeks. "Venga, chica."

XXX

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~LM

Translations:

Mierda - shit

¿Cuántos? - How many?

Un putaro de gente. ¿Qué quieres decir 'how many'? - A fucking lot of people. What do you mean 'how many'?

Mira - Look

No sé. - I don't know

Dios mio.. - My God..

Esos cabrones.. - Those assholes..