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Date Posted: 21:25:37 01/14/04 Wed
Author: Adrien
Subject: La morte batte per noi tutti, ma lo aspettera

$He sat in one of his arm chairs before the crackling fire, it was the only light in the massive room. He wore only a pair of black, silk pajama bottoms, his toned chest gleamed in the light from the fire. Round his neck hung a Saint Christopher medaillion, meant for good luck. In his hand he held a glass of Whiskey, he was in need of some emotional release right now, anger still coursed through his veins at the happenings in Russia that was going to mess up so much. He was trying to calm himself down, but it wasn't working, even with Mozart playing in the background.$

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