Time: 20 Years Prior

Location; Rome, Italy.

Father Dan checked them into the hotel. They spent the afternoon and evening touring around by taxi. They went to the Colosseum and had dinner at a restaurant near the Trevi Fountain. They walked back along the banks of the Tiber river and talked excitedly about the coming meeting with His Holiness. They reached the hotel about nine pm and went up to their rooms. Peter said goodnight and opened the door to room 1913 Father Dan waved as he opened 1915. As he entered Peter turned on the light and stood there dumbfounded. There in the middle of the floor was a package. More like a crate than a package, the size and shape made the contents unmistakable to Peter. It was a guitar.

The box had a large knife gaffer taped to it. Peter pulled the tape off the knife and then used the knife to cut the blue plastic packing bands. He levered off the wooden lid of the crate with the blade of the knife. He fell back on his haunches in surprise. There was a guitar, not any guitar, but Eric Clapton's guitar, "The Fool". How could it be, it was unmistakeable with its multi-coloured design, surely it's a replica. If it was the real thing it must be worth thousands, he thought.

There was a card, it simply said: 'GIFT 1 of 2'.

He looked around the room expecting to see maybe a square box with perhaps an amplifier and speaker, there was nothing.

He was heading to the door to tell Father Dan what he'd found when before he reached it, it softly knocked.

"Father Dan . . , '" he began to say as he swung open the door, there was a young woman with a young boy, in the half light of the corridor, he couldn't quite make out who it was, something about her was familiar, he swore he'd seen her face before. A..Amelia is that you? He rushed to embrace her."

She accepted him with open arms and took his kiss with passion. Her tongue slid into his mouth and curled around his. Peter opened his eyes, a little startled, she had gorgeous big brown eyes that seemed to look into his very soul. He pulled back confused for an instant, Amelia had green eyes, he thought, oh no. . . the twin trick. . . but Amanda had Green eyes too.

The girl finally spoke, "My name is Caterina, you can call me Cat, but for tonight I can be anyone you want me to be."

There must be some mistake, he thought.

She handed him a card, he looked at it in the half light, but there was no mistaking what it said:

'GIFT 2 of 2'.

She turned to the boy next to her and said, "Off you go, Room 1915".

She waltzed past Peter into his room, turned, pulled him backwards into the room, closing the door and locking it in one easy motion, she spun him around and quickly started to undress him. She remembered her instructions well and the warning that he would probably be reluctant. She was to take him by surprise, sweep him off his feet, she had been chosen because she looked like someone he knew, someone he would not be able to resist. If she acted decisively he wouldn't have a chance to think before his passions took over. Someone had ensured that by drugging his drinks with an aphrodisiac at dinner. So far it was all going as they said it would.

She guided him over to the bed, he resisted for an instant and then was lost in those eyes. She spoke to him softly ,encouraging him, giving him confidence. She was an expert at preying on men's weaknesses. Peter was no match for her. He succumbed in an instant. Soon he was riding her as she gasped and urged him deeper. He let out a yell and grabbed a fistful of sheets. He was soon spent and left gasping by her side. "Sorry," was all he said. She said, "No need to be sad. I'm guessing it's been a while."

"At least a year maybe two," Peter admitted sheepishly.

"My God!" she said soothingly, "then you did very well to last as long as you did. The next time we'll be better."

"Next time?" Peter said quizzically. "Yes, I am yours all night, that's if you want me?" she said flashing an endearing smile and batting those beautiful eyes. Even if Peter hadn't been drugged he probably wouldn't have turned down an offer like that.

"Let's have a drink, talk for a bit, maybe put on some music, and see how things go," she suggested.

"Okay," was all Peter could say. "You're very beautiful," he said finally. He got up from the bed and went to the entertainment console. There was a CD player and a selection of CDs. He quickly shuffled through them looking for something to suit the occasion. The last CD he looked at was an Eagles CD. Amelia's favourite group, not that she liked popular music that much, but she had told him many times that she thought The Eagles were something special. They touched her like no other group since her beloved Beatles.

Her name escaped him but he gestured with the CD in his right hand and said," Do you like The Eagles?"

"Yes, yes, I love them, especially Hotel California, it's so sad," she said as she sat up in bed, the satin sheet slid away from her breasts and she made no attempt to cover herself. "Just put it on and come here I have another little surprise for you," she said seductively.

Peter put the CD on and turned around.

God she is beautiful, even prettier than Amelia, maybe he should forget all about Amelia...obviously she had forgotten about him....and there were so many other girls in the world...girls like this girl....

"Sorry, what's your name again?" he asked sheepishly.

"You can call me Cat, but watch out cats have claws," she laughed.

He laughed too, he liked this girl. . . she was gorgeous, clever, liked music, what was she doing with him he thought. She's too cute, she couldn't be a call girl surely . . . or could she? Who cares . . . tonight she's mine.

He joined her in the bed. It had just occurred to him that he'd completely forgotten that he was naked, and he liked the fact that he had no inhibitions with this girl . . . none. He'd even felt more uncomfortable with Amelia.

"Now what's this little surprise you have for me?" Peter asked as he joined her in bed and cuddled up to those ample breasts. She reached past him, gave him a kiss on the cheek as their faces met, she retrieved her bag and pulled out a small plastic coin bag, it had a number of small white tablets in it. She opened the plastic bag and retrieved two tablets. She handed one to Peter and handed him a glass of champagne that she had found on the side table.

"What's this then?" he asked.

"It's a new drug, called XTC, it's not addictive, and they say you can talk to God. It takes you to another world, another plane, you should try it."

"I'm not into drugs at all, never used them."

"Well it's about time you loosened up a bit. It won't hurt, as I said it's not addictive at all. I've been using it off and on for six months and I'm fine with it. Go on Peter, live a bit. My bosses told me I had to get you to enjoy your last night of freedom, do you know what they were talking about?"

"No idea, anyway let's not worry about what other people say, hand over the drug and let's party," Peter popped the offered tablet in his mouth and washed it down with the champagne. He started singing along with the Eagles tracks. She looked at him amazed, "You have a really nice voice, you should be a singer, do you play an instrument?"

"I play guitar and a bit of piano," Peter answered,

"You want me to play something, I have a new guitar now," he announced turning around and reaching down to pull the opened wooden case with the guitar in it over to the side of the bed.

"I want you to play me, come here!" she said pulling him towards her and enveloping him in a passionate embrace.

The drug was taking effect on Peter, he felt happy, so happy, so randy, so close to God, perhaps he was a God, and he had his muse, his beautiful muse. He lay back as she took him into her mouth.

He rolled her over on her back, she spread her legs to him took him inside her, she moaned as he began to pound into her. Hotel California started playing in the background,

How appropriate, he thought, he started singing along with the lyrics.

"You can check out any time you like but you can never leave, stabbed them with his steely knives but couldn't kill the beast. . ," he stabbed her with his penis again and again, she clung to him and screamed and screamed.

Carter watched as Andre entered stealthily into the room where the baby was sleeping, he went over to the cot. He was about to . . . when the light flashed on . . .

"Oh . . . you're home." He was grabbed from behind by loving arms. He turned to see the familiar blonde hair. Helga kissed him passionately. "I'm so glad you're back, little Anton misses you so whenever you're away, I do too I'm afraid."

“Then you'll both miss me again tonight, I'm afraid too," he smiled.

"You don't have to go away again so soon do you?"

He laughed, "It's nice to know somebody loves me. No, it's local. I should be back around one a.m. or so."

She let out a sigh, "I'll wait up for you."

"There's no need, you need your rest too you know, especially now," he said pointing to her expanding belly. "Just get my things ready for a . . . a clean shirt would be nice."

"Will you need a poncho?" she asked sadly.

"Yes one of the yellow ones will do fine, thanks darling. I'll try not to wake you and Anton when I return," he offered.

She hugged him and said, "You can wake me if you like. I do love that special waking with your special treatment," she quipped.

He let out a laugh, spun her around and slapped her beautiful behind."Off you go cheeky, it's a date."

Andre rang for a taxi to take him to the hotel, leaving behind his Audi convertible. He liked to remain anonymous on these projects. His father had taught him well. In the back of the taxi his mind drifted back to the events of the last twenty four hours. He remembered the astonished look on Amelia's face when he swore at her. He remembered his father's training. The simplest and best way to divorce yourself emotionally from a target was to swear at them, call them names. When he had finally decided to follow in his father's footsteps, and it was a choice for him, his father was adamant at the time. When he told his son on his eighteenth birthday what he really did for a living. how they got to be so wealthy he made it abundantly clear that it was always to be his decision what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. He also had made it clear that if he chose this life it was for the rest of his natural life, much like a gaol sentence for murde

He said there would be murder, lots of murder, but then he said he had two things to share with him, these might help him to decide. He then told him the most amazing story about how he had been drafted into his profession. How history wasn't quite right, the bible wasn't quite right. He told him, what he himself, had been told, and he had not been told everything, in fact he only knew a snippet of the truth, just enough to conscript him to become an operative for SPECTRE.

Then when he was sure that Andre was to follow him, he started Andre's training. One of the first things he trained him in was in what he called the assassin's creed. He taught him that there were basically two types of kills. A Close Kill and a Distant Kill. The easiest was a Distant Kill, where you could use a high powered rifle or a bomb, or you could be closer but anonymous and hidden in the crowd. The more difficult one was when you had to get up close and personal. One, because your identity was exposed, but more dangerous than that, was that you had to establish rapport with your target. This became extremely dangerous if you started to like, or were sexually attracted, to the target. The trick was quite simple, once rapport was established and you had the trust of the target, when the time came to act, you simply swore at them, pretended to be offended by them, if the girl was sexy, imagine you had just caught her cheating on you. Then Do It, swiftly and without remorse, remorse was your enemy, remorse could get you caught.

The taxi pulled up, and the driver said, "We're here sir."

"Uh, oh, okay . . . thanks . . . here . . . something for your trouble." He handed the driver a hundred thousand lire note. "Keep the change," Andre said as he slammed the back door of the taxi.

He went up to the desk and looked the desk clerk in the eye and asked, "Where's Tony tonight?"

"He called in sick, I'm an agency person."

"What's your name?"

"I'm nobody with a B," Barry replied.

"I'm nobody with an A," Andre said.

Barry turned, retrieved two keys from the key cabinet, spun around and slid them across the desk towards Andre.

He separated them on the desktop, "This one first" he said, as he pointed to the left key, 1915. Andre pocketed the keys and reached into his other pocket, he retrieved a bundle of hundred thousand lire notes and pushed the wad over to the desk clerk. "Thank you sir, everything will be done to your satisfaction, enjoy your time here."

Andre turned, a shiver went through him. How could anyone think that I enjoy what I do."

He travelled to level nineteen, looked around as he left the lift. He quickly found room 1915. He silently turned the key and entered the room. He was done in an instant, he was good, swift and deadly. He walked down to the next room, he silently slid into the room. He reached into his bag and retrieved the yellow poncho, ripped open the plastic bag and put the poncho on. He eased his way to the bed. He reached down and found the knife. In seconds it was over, the drugs had done their job, no sound came from either of them. Good, he thought, now off to the hospital.

Andre left the hotel without seeing another soul. He walked on the backblocks to the back of the hospital. He took out his shirt, wiped a few spots of blood from his shoes and got out the poncho from his bag, wrapped the shirt in the poncho and tossed the lot in the medical waste bin. He walked another kilometre to the river and tossed the knife into the Tiber. He walked another 500 meters to the taxi rank. He was home by 1.40 a.m. He was making love to Helga by 2 a.m.

The sun streamed in the bay window, it cast a shadow of the bedside lamp across the two bodies in the bed. Peter stirred, he was thirsty, so thirsty, he was wet, a mixture of night sweat and something else.

Oh, no I've pissed myself, he thought to himself, haven't done that since I was a teen. He rolled on his left side, and found himself looking deep into those large brown eyes, What was her name… Cat that's right . . . their faces were only a few centimetres apart. He was so close he couldn't focus his eyes for a while...."Good morning," he said. She said nothing, nor did she smile that gorgeous smile. The sheet formed a tent on her chest. He threw the sheet back, he was plunged into the scene from the Godfather, but there was no horses head . . . only blood. He felt his legs, his stomach, he didn't appear to be injured. There was no pain, it wasn't his blood. He threw back the sheet from Cat, she didn't move, the knife, the one from the guitar case, it shot up from her chest like the Washington monument, a testament to a violent death. She had been stabbed multiple times, it was obvious, the killer was a madman. Peter's mind raced, who could have done this? Why? Why was this happening? He checked if he had anything on, he did, his pyjama bottoms, Cat had his top on. They were both soaked in her blood. He had to tell Father Dan, now. He got out of the bed, his head was spinning, he felt sick, he hadn't seen a dead body before, he thought, or had he, he started to doubt his thought processes, he started talking to himself, arguing with himself. He had to get out, out of bed, out of this room. He went to the bathroom. He almost headed back to the bed. He should check if Cat was still breathing, then he remembered how dilated her pupils had been, how cold she felt leaning against him, she was dead alright. He took off the blood soaked pyjamas and threw them in the bath tub. He reached for the plush white bathrobe hanging behind the door, slipped it on, and raced to the door. He unlocked it, opened it and glanced down the corridor. He went straight to Room 1915.

He knocked softly on the door, once, twice, "Father Dan, Father Dan", a little louder, he knocked loudly as panic started to set in. He was startled when he felt a tap on his right shoulder, someone had crept up on him he thought, he jumped.

"Sorry sir," a voice said in a thick English accent, "Are you looking for the Father?"

"Errr, yes, yes, I am."

"He has gone down to breakfast at the buffet. He said someone called Petros may be looking for him, is that you? If so he said to send you down to join him.

"I can't, do you work here, what's your name?" he asked.

"You can call me Barry, with a B," he said finally.

He put the key into the door, Father asked me to have the room cleaned while he was at breakfast, unfortunately the cleaning staff don't start till 6.30 a.m. I said I'd see to it personally, I'm at the end of my shift anyway.

"Can you ask Father Dan to come to my room please as soon as possible please."

"Are you alright sir, you seem upset?" Barry asked.

"Yes, I mean no, everything's fine, if you could just get Father Dan to come up please."

"Perhaps sir has his period?" Barry asked with a hint of derision that only the best hotel staff can exhibit while being overly polite. Peter looked down and was horrified to see blood was seeping into the white dressing gown he was wearing. It was spreading from his groin and reaching down his left leg. He gathered the gown around him to cover the stain, wheeled around, "Just ask Father Dan to come to Room 1913, please, and ask him to knock three times so I know it's him."

"A bit James Bondish isn't it?" Barry said, "Are you sure there's nothing wrong, nothing I can help you with sir?"

"No, nothing, just do as I requested, please. And tell him it's urgent." Peter raced back to his room…let the door slam shut behind him. He looked up hoping it might be a dream, that the bed would be empty, it wasn't. Peter didn't have to wait long before there were three knocks on the door. He rushed over and opened the door, he was relieved to see Father Dan was alone. He was still eating a piece of raisin toast, he entered the room and started saying, "What's up Pet . . ." he dropped the raisin toast on the carpet. "Petros, oh Petros, what have you done?"

"You think I did this, that I am even capable of this?" he said pointing to Cat's bloodied body. "This is surely the work of a madman, someone else did this, not me, no, no, not me!"

"Normally, I would agree with you Peter, but we have to face facts. Who else was in the room Peter?"

He only calls me Peter when he's mad at me or disappointed in something I've done, Peter thought.

Father Dan continued, "think about it," Peter ran over to check the window. "Petros, you're clutching at straws. We're on the 19th floor! Anyway the windows are sealed. They don't open. I've stayed here many times before."

Peter collapsed in tears. "How could I do such a thing," he asked himself out loud.

"Tell me, how did you meet this young woman?" Dan asked as he went over to the bed to take a closer look at the body.

"She knocked on my door," he proceeded to tell Dan all that had happened up to Dan arriving at his door.

"I see. Where did you get the knife then, did the girl have it on her? Did she attack you? Or perhaps use it to defend herself in some sort of altercation with you?"

"No, it came with this," Peter said holding up the guitar, "did you send it?"

"No, it’s a beauty," Dan said in an attempt to diffuse some tension in the room. Petros, you know I took a vow of poverty, how could a poor person afford such a gift. Peter then showed him the gift card, "Who sent it then, do you know?" he asked suspiciously.

Actually I might," said Father Dan, "and you say the girl had one of these cards as well?"

"Stop bullshitting me, Dan," Peter raised his voice in anger. "I didn't tell you before, she had the boy with her."

Dan took a closer look at the dead girl. "Shit, is that Amelia? I haven't seen her for a few years but it sure looks like her. Did you and Amelia have a falling out, rage can make you do crazy things you know!”

"You're doing it again, no, it's not Amelia. You know what I'm talking about, the boy, the boy who went to your room, Dan....the rent boy Dan.”

Father Dan couldn't help but flush red faced. "I told you Petros that I had faults, little demons that cause me occasionally to fail my oaths. You mean this girl is also a call girl?" Dan deflected.

"Yes, I guess she is, er was one." said Peter.

"What happened then, did you reject her and she attacked you?" Dan suggested.

"I told you, I didn't do it, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"You told me she burst into the room and locked the door behind her, right?"

"Right," said Peter, "did anyone come up to the room afterwards, obviously you ordered room service, maybe they left the door unlocked?" Dan suggested.

"No, no room service, the girl had the champagne with her, the rest came from the mini bar." Peter said, "but that must be it, the guy cleaning out your room this morning, he had a key, he was a bit scary actually, he kind of insulted me, he must have done it!" he said, almost relieved.

"You mean Barry, no, Barry has been here for years, as long as I've been coming here, anyway why would a glorified busboy sneak into a guest's room to kill a prostitute? It doesn't make sense."

"As much as it pains me to say it, you must have killed this poor child. There is no other explanation, the only thing is why, why Peter.... would you do such a terrible thing?" Peter was dumbfounded and looked around confused and disoriented. "You seem not yourself Peter, this girl gave you champagne, did she give you anything else. I mean beside the obvious, this room smells like a brothel?" he said.

"She gave me a tablet, she said it would heighten the sexual experience, ecstasy, or something."

"Jesus," Father Dan bowed his head in reverence, "there's your answer Peter. I've seen good men do terrible things on drugs, things they never would do sober, mix that with alcohol and you have a deadly combination. Why one of my parishioners, a lovely man with two beautiful kids, a stunningly beautiful wife, he got mixed up with drugs and then mixed with alcohol one night he came home and killed that beautiful wife of his, bashed her to death, then drowned those poor kids in the bath to stop them screaming. He confessed to me shortly before jumping off the Gap to his death."

"I'm not like that! I don't know what happened but I know I didn't do it!" Peter shouted.

"Alright, alright, calm down Petros. You see it doesn't really matter don't you, the police will think you did. All the evidence says so, and if, under questioning, you tell them that she looks a lot like a girl you know, a girl who has spurned you, and that you took drugs from this girl and you drank a lot of alcohol and had sex with this girl. Then you found out that this girl who reminded you so much of the love of your life, was a common prostitute, you see where this is headed don't you Petros, so it really doesn't matter if you killed her or not. They will prove you did and you will go to prison for the rest of your life. I'm not going to let that happen Petros not over some slut, I'm calling Graz. He'll know what to do."

Father Dan walked over to the bureau and picked up the phone, dialled a number put his hand over the mouthpiece as he turned to Peter and said, "You go and have a shower Petros, clean yourself up, have a shave. There is much to do today, but firstly I must fix up this mess, off you go." Peter slumped off resignedly, with his head cradled in his hands, towards the bathroom. As he got there he overheard Father Dan say, "Graz, we have a situation that needs special treatment, yes, yes at the hotel." Peter closed the door shutting out the sound of Father Dan recounting the mornings events, at last there was silence, solitude, as he got in the shower he imagined that it could wash it all away. Maybe the water would wake him and he could find himself in the middle of a drug induced nightmare. He would wake in bed, Cat would be staring back at him with her big brown cat eyes. They would make passionate love, and all would be well again in his world. He stepped out of the shower to reality.

Carter watched as Peter dressed quickly and shaved. He put on some of the aftershave provided by the hotel as a promotion. He walked out to see Father Dan was no longer on the phone. "What did he say?" Peter asked.

"He wants us to come to the Vatican, immediately," Father Dan said.

"I've been thinking, shouldn't we call the police, let them handle it, investigate what happened?" Peter suggested.

"Are you mad, the last thing we want is the police involved," Father Dan chastised him.

"What are we going to do about all this then?" Peter asked waving his hand towards Cat.

"Graz will fix it, just pick up your guitar and other belongings, leave nothing. I have a taxi waiting, hurry. There is not a moment to lose. When we get to the ground floor, I want you to go out the front and wait for me. I'll fix up the bill. Please Petros, don't argue, just do as I say and it will all be alright."

Peter complied by collecting all his belongings and then reached down grabbed the guitar. "What about the packing case?" Peter asked.

"Leave it. It can't be traced to us, Graz will arrange to get rid of it."

Father Dan pushed Peter towards the door, "What about Cat?" Peter insisted.

"I told you, Graz will get rid of it."

"But Dan, she's a nice person."

"Not anymore, Petros, not anymore. Let's just go, there's nothing for you here."

They went to the lift in silence.

Carter watched as Peter did what he was asked and went straight out the front and waited for the taxi. Father Dan paid the bill and joined Peter at the taxi rank. The taxi picked them up. The driver asked for the destination. "Vatican city" said Father Dan.

Peter asked, "who is Graz?"

"He is the Archbishop, the Guardian of Secrets for Europe. He is virtually the Pope's right hand man in Europe," said Father Dan.

"What sort of secrets is he guarding then?" asked Peter.

"I can't tell you Petros, not in the back of a taxi, you will find out though, if you play your cards right, you'll soon know everything."

Carter watched as they arrived in Vatican City. Father Dan took him to meet with Archbishop Benatta.

Father Dan and Peter were ushered into a lounge room with an open fire. The Archbishop entered the room from a side door, he strode with robes flowing to face Father Dan. He kissed him on each cheek, he spun around and said, "Welcome to the Vatican. This must be the young man I've heard so much about, you must be Peter," he said. Peter went down on one knee, took the offered hand and kissed the Bishop's ring.

"Father Dan has told me a lot about you, Peter, how unfortunate that we have to meet in such difficult circumstances."

Peter was in awe. He had not realised how intimidating meeting such powerful clergy at the Vatican would feel.

"I didn't do it Your Grace." said Peter.

"Be that as it may Peter, from what Father Dan tells me the evidence would suggest otherwise."

"What do you suggest I do then?" asked Peter.

"As you Australians say, I won't beat around the bush. Peter, you need to take your vows as soon as possible and become a resident of the Vatican, then you can come under the protection of the Vatican City's diplomatic immunity. So that when the police finally come for you we can how you say, send them packing."

"But why would they come for me, I didn't do anything," Peter argued.

The Archbishop smiled a strange smile at him, "Because sooner or later the girl will be missed, usooner or later her body will be found. Their investigations will lead them to a certain room in a certain hotel. You as an occupant of that room will become a person of interest in their investigations. Did anyone see you with the girl at the hotel?" he asked.

"No, oh, shit, the boy, the boy at the door saw me?" he said.

"You mean the busboy?" the Archbishop toyed with him.

"No, I mean the boy that went to Father Dan's room, the rent boy."

"You realise Peter, there was no boy, not as far as the Vatican is concerned. You would be on your own if it ever came to that. I shall make arrangements for you to take your vows in the Basilica tomorrow at 11 a.m. The Pontiff himself has agreed to officiate, you are very privileged indeed."

"No, it can't be tomorrow, I want my parents there, can't we delay it a few days? I'm sure they will fly out for it especially if they can meet the Pope."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, His Holiness flies out for his American tour the day after tomorrow, so if you want His Holiness to ordain you it has to be tomorrow. Besides, if the police were to come for you in the meantime there would be nothing we could do, as a visiting deacon we would be obliged to hand you over to the Italian authorities I'm afraid. We would also have to disavow any knowledge of any wrong doing to protect the reputation of the Holy Church, you understand!"

"Then what you're saying is that I'm between a rock and a hard place," Peter said forlornly.

"A very hard place Peter, but look on the bright side, only a privileged few get to be ordained by the Pontiff himself. You will be amongst the chosen, you will have a bright future, you may even aspire to great office one day. The choice is yours, choose wisely and soon. I shall need your answer by five p.m. in order to make the necessary preparations."

"He will do it, won't you Petros, surely you see now that you really have no choice. The die is cast, the Vatican is your new home. You can check out, but you can never leave." Father Dan did to him what he was fond of doing to Father Dan, making his points by quoting song lyrics.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it then, but I want His Holiness to be aware that it is in no way an admission of any guilt."

"I understand Peter, and so will His Holiness, you have made a courageous decision but the right one. I will leave you now to ready yourself for tomorrow's momentous event, Good Afternoon."

Chapter 38 - Decisions Decisions.

0 Comments