|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Aug 25, 2010 6:50 pm
The train slowly began to decelerate, losing speed at an almost imperceptible rate. Ioann was standing up, he had been for the whole ride. His left arm was wrapped around a support pole, and his left hand in his pocket, securing him to the pole. He was wearing a loose, long sleeve white t-shirt, with a black cross over his heart, the arms extending around his chest and stretching over his back. On his legs he wore a pair of dark navy track pants, fastened by a button and a drawstring on the front. On his feet he wore a pair of Vibram Five-fingers. A few people stared, but it was so much like being barefoot he didn't care. All of his worldly possessions were carried in a ruck-sack on his back. The sneaking suit was buried in the very bottom, his knife and pistol were closer to the top, wrapped up in some socks and undergarments. He was very glad there were no metal detectors in these train stations.
The high squealing whine of brakes being applied echoed throughout the body of the train. There was a sudden shuffle, people putting away phones, books, magazines, all the tools they used to avoid being sociable with those around them. Ioann watched it all carefully, paying special attention for anything long and metallic. He was sure he hadn't been followed, but the last thing he wanted was some supposed passenger putting a bullet in the back of his skull simply because he'd become complacent. The doors hissed open and Ioann shuffled out with the rest of the crowd, careful to match his pace to avoid seeming out of place.
He never stopped moving, he didn't fumble around with pocket maps, he didn't stop to ask directions in his horribly broken English, he didn't even spare a glance at any directories. Only very occasionally would he spare a glance upward, looking for the 'EXIT' signs barely illuminated by old bulbs. Following the signs and the crowd he finally made his way outside, his senses suddenly under assault from a city moving full tilt. Mind boggling numbers of people seemed to pour from all corners, many on phones or plugged into their iPods. Crosswalks, lights, stores, restaurants, and cars were all in abundance here. It was a lot like every other city he had ever been to, except here he had more trouble speaking with the natives.
Here was where his plan sort of fell apart. He knew someone was supposed to be here to guide him to Mr. Stark's mansion. Unfortunately he didn't know who they were or when they would arrive. He had been left very much in the dark and did not like it one bit. Having to depend on others automatically put him at risk. He began making his way towards the numerous taxis lining the street. If no one was here to meet him perhaps he could find his own way.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 25, 2010 7:51 pm
[[Hope you don't mind... I think I might swoop in and take the spot.]]
The copper-haired woman had been reading her book when the presence of a superhuman came into perimeter of her vicinity. She saw the man with the extremely short hair and could only guess this was the man from the file Pete had sent her to pick him up. Like she had anything better to do. She pulled up on the curb infront of him and rolled down the window of her car and peered at him closely. Her mind brushed against his barely, but just enough so he would know what she was.
"Petre Stark sent me to get you, I think," She told him and the door to the car on the passenger side,"I'm Celaeno," she introduced herself politely.
The last thing she wanted to do was anger this man. Even if she was an incarnate of chaos herself, Laney treaded carefully in deep water. Rush-hour traffic made no sense, since no one ever moved. She had fretted that she would have been late to pick up who-ever this was. Fortunately she was about twenty minutes early and was grateful for bringing a book with her while she waited outside of the station. Her long hair was pulled out of her face in a long braid slung over one shoulder. Someone had mistaken her car for another in her wait and apologized profusely, and then pulled out their luggage of her passenger seat. It had been an awkward moment but Laney ended up giving them directions to the restaurant of where they were supposed to meet their ride.
She was due to pick up her father in a few day's time aswell. That made her all the more anxious to be out and about wasting time until she saw her father walking towards her car in the parking lot.
I missed him. It'll be good to see him again... And meet my mother for the first time.
All though her attempts to call her father had fallen face-first, Pete's email had her jumping for joy(metaphorically. Too much adrenaline makes for harder control.)
Now she looked up at the lean and tall man from her car seat and doubted herself for a moment. But her senses picked up on his abnormalities like a sore thumb. This had to be him.
[Though, I do apologize for my shortness... >.>]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 25, 2010 11:13 pm
[I’m just going to throw myself in this scene to add some color]
Once Ioann is standing on the curb he will notice Brian, dressed in faded fatigues and sporting his three inch black Mohawk, leaning against a pole on the far side of the street. There is a brief moment of eye contact shared and than Brian pulls a notepad from one of the pockets and seems to write something in it before putting it back in the same pocket.
Since Ioann knows what to look for and is watching for this sort of thing since he is very suspicious for COSMO agents it is not much for him to suspect that this man he has seen has a handgun in a shoulder holster under his jacket. Also, Brian seems to have “mercenary” written all over him, subtle clues that the average citizen miss that the professional soldier can pick out like how the fatigues, while military issue, have been altered so they wouldn’t pass an inspection or how he is not wearing a cover; little things, but they are there.
Brian glances up once more, rubs the back of his neck with his left hand while unbuttoning the top two buttons of the jacket with the right and than joins into the crowds; walking away and quickly disappearing amongst the crush of people going about their lives.
Celeano might have noticed Brian and that he was leaning against that pole since before she showed up but probably wouldn’t have gotten much off of him other than his peculiar haircut and that he’s a soldier. Brian probably never even looked at her until she was pulling up for Ioann and now Brian is gone if she looks where he was again.
[And unless you guys go looking for Brian I’m out of the scene!]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 26, 2010 7:09 pm
Dangling his toes over the curb Ioann stared across the street. He saw a man who looked about five decades too late to be a punk rocker who was staring at him. The splotchy faded gray trousers marked him as former Army, and the tell-tale bulk of a handgun under his jacket. Why this man was taking notes Ioann didn't know, and didn't particularly care. He'd seen that type dozens of times before, freshly discharged from the military and, knowing no other way, persisting with the lifestyle. If Ioann's guess was correct then this man was probably some sort of mercenary, playing at being 'Tier-One' just to get his jollies on the weekends. Ioann watched the man turn and leave, he may have thought he was well-hidden in the crowd but a mohawk is impossible to hide, no matter how stealthy you are.
Ioann visibly jumped away from the curb as the car pulled up. He stared at it inquisitively until his mind was suddenly assaulted. No, this was simply an intent, another person's feelings intruding on his mind. He didn't like it. Ioann had acquired a particular distaste for psychics ever since one mission he had carried out in the Caucasus mountains. Knowing there was a psychic about immediately set him on edge. His pulse sky-rocketed, his eyes dilating before the window went down and he saw inside. Perhaps he was being a bit paranoid after all.
The psychic was seated in the car, staring at him in an open and curious manner. Her intent had been like a sort of salutation. She spoke to him in English and while he had little idea of what she said the manner with which she had spoken was not entirely unpleasant. He was able to understand 'Stark' and that last word sounded like a name of some sort. 'Celaeno?' Not a name he had ever heard before, but he was not one to judge.
*"Я сожалею, но я говорю на очень небольшом английском языке и понятия не имею, что Вы говорите." Ioann said. Looking around however, he saw no other options. She seemed a bit distracted, and the fact that she was a psychic was already enough reason not to anger her. He decided it best not to keep her waiting and slipped into the passenger seat, throwing his ruck into the back seat.
"Ioann." he said, pointing to himself with his left hand. He shut the door and immediately set to scanning the crowds. Cars, while convenient, became little more than rolling cages in these crowded streets. He didn't like being trapped for prolonged periods.
((*Translation: I'm sorry, but I speak very little English and have no idea what you're saying.
I am not now nor have I ever claimed to be able to speak Russian. I'm using an online translator so if things seem odd or out of place or awkward to any of you natives I apologize.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 26, 2010 8:04 pm
The unnerving feel of another homosuperior near caused Celaeno to bristle. Her eyes scanned the crowd and finally landed on the man with the mohawk. If he was trying to fit in he wasn't very good at it. However the note-taking made her fingers dig into the leather steering wheel enough to cause deep gauges from her sharp nails. The Russian language brought her out of the dangerous eddy her mind was playing her into.
Oh yeah, she forgot to mention he doesn't speak a word of English.
Celaeno thought with some contempt as he slid into her car. She could feel his dislike for her mind lightly touching his. It meant only to be like a hand brushing across another, obscure but noticable. Laney stopped immediately when the atmosphere around him immediately changed. Though she hardly spoke russian, she caught 'I don't speak english'. Thanks Pete. She motioned for him to buckle himself up. It was quite obvious he disliked being in cars and she felt sort of a small connection there. Cars meant clausterphobia. Cars meant more accidents. Cars meant being trapped. And of course, being trapped meant her adrenaline and heart pressure would rise and her control over being herself would disappear completely.
After using her turn signal she eased out onto the busy road towards the highway. The awkward silence between them made her grip the wheel a little. From what she could analyze from her periphreal vision and her out-of-habit psionic scan that he was indeed Russian, and very strong. Celaeno could smell testosterone coming off of him (metaphorically speaking). The silence would have never bothered her before, but now it was pressing on her. She wracked her brain for the simple phrases in Russian she had learned over home school with her father Bruce.
If we have to keep moving, we have to know how to speak where we're going to, Bruce had once instructed before shoving books of different languages at her.
"My name is Celaeno," She spoke in Russian to him which was just as good as anyone who read 'Speaking Russian for Dummies'. "How was your trip?" It was like first year of foreign-language classes all over again. She was thankful for paying attention then instead of scribbling in her notebook of different designs for motorcycles... If it was too bad, she would just read the intent of his words and where he was getting at with her telepathy. It worked most of the time.
[[Quite all right, I don't trust myself with translators so the last two sentences are in beginner Russian xP
I can't speak a word of it, heh.]]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 28, 2010 12:53 pm
Once the car was finally in motion he seemed to relax a bit. His eyes constantly flashing back and forth between the rear-view mirrors and the cars in front of them. So far it didn't seem like they were being followed. That was some good news at least, that mean all he had to worry about was this psychic that seemed to insist on trying to read him. He started thinking about the cars around him, looking at colors, reading license plates, reading street signs, counting cards in his head, just filling his head with tiny random thoughts. It was kind of like filling a radio with static, obscuring the true message.
It was bad enough he had to be this close to a psychic, he wasn't just going to passively let her read his mind. Maybe if she wanted to read something then she could read how much he wanted her to stay the hell away from his thoughts. She spoke in an attempt at Russian, it was clumsy, he could tell her mouth was unused to the sounds required by the language. Judging by her white knuckles she was feeling tense about something. Great, the last thing he needed right now was a psychic getting excited and popping his head like a grape on accident.
*"Моя поездка была в порядке." he said, in response to her question. His tone was neither terse nor particularly abrasive, but it seemed clear he wasn't looking for a conversation. He said nothing after that. He seemed more concerned with the black SUV that had been about two cars behind them for the past six blocks.
((* My trip was alright.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 12:04 pm
Laney stopped touching the outer-layers of his brain, respecting his wishes. Her eyes however, followed his to the black SUV behind them.
"*They aren't following us,*" she said once more in her halting Russian. Just to make him a little more comfortable, she turned down a back-street and onto the highway to the Avengers Mansion. Her hands relaxed on the wheel a little but there was something still about her that seemed a little dangerous. She could feel his tension and sighed,"I'm not a psychic, just so you know. Those are completely different. I am... psionic." It was difficult to find a word in Russian to describe what a Psion was. Empath, Telepath, Telekinetic, Psychopath... Her mind went off on a list of what she could have been.
He doesn't need to know about the Harpy.
Celaeno respected his desire for little conversation. She retreated into her only little silent box, like putting up a very opaque wall between them. Storm-cloud eyes kept to the road infront of them, occasionally switching lanes to get ahead of a slower drive. Who ever this guy was, Pete and Tony obviously saw nothing wrong with taking him to the mansion. They'll explain it to me, I hope. I don't like wasting gas money for no reason.
She was more bent on going to get her dad in two and a half days. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably and briefly her face showed pain. She adjusted her sitting and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Mixed feelomgs of seeing her father for the first time in a few years had stirred up in her brain. Her emotions were fresh and even stronger as she thought about her mother as well. Why did she have to leave me? This wasn't something she should be thinking about-- with her emotional instability it could proove dangerous for the Russian beside her.
They were about three miles from the mansion when she hunched forward a little as a migraine hit her like a brick. s**t, s**t s**t s**t s**t.... Go back to sleep, She pleaded with herself. The Harpy moved and started to struggle with her binds inside of Laney's conciousness. Her foot pressed down hard on the excelerator as she began to control her breathing and heart-rate.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 31, 2010 5:43 pm
"Я не вспоминаю выяснение." He said. To him there was no difference, a psychic was a psychic was a psychic regardless of the word used to describe it. Pulling his right hand from his pocket he pulled the lever to lower the back of his seat slightly. He stopped the seat about half-way down, staring intently at the rearview mirror if only for the reason that it gave him something else to do.
He felt inertia pressing him back into his seat. Looking over he noticed the strained expression on Celaeno's face. Peeking at the speedometer he could see that they were already fifteen over the limit and still accelerating. Perhaps she had just grown impatient. Ioann didn't really care, the roads here were paved smooth and other drivers were more than capable of getting out of the way. As long as they weren't on gravel, or driving at night, or flying down-hill, or dealing with gunfire arcing overhead, or the threat of the occasional roadside bomb, he didn't care.
In fact, inquiring about her health never even occurred to him. Surely she could have said something if it was an emergency right? Until then she could just tough it out for all he cared. Ioann debated about taking a nap while Celaeno still seemed determined to bury the needle.
((I don't recall asking.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2010 2:22 pm
Celaeno's erratic driving seemed to be extremely dangerous the way she weaved in and out of cars until they reached the long road to the Avenger's Mansion. Her car screached to a stop infront as she unlocked the car.
"Get out," her voice was oddly rough, like gravel as she strained to keep control of herself. The door of the passenger side swung open with a random burst of her telekinesis. She pushed herself out quickly and made a storm for the front doors of the mansion. The door slammed open, nearly breaking off of its hinges.
The alarm system went off but soon shut off as the computer system identified her easily. "Computer contact Petre Stark," She rasped out as she stumbled towards the lab. Already her face was changing rapidly and small metal feathers beginning to stubble on her skin. "Activate emergency...serum... 7780..." Her fingernails began to grow sharper and longer as she dug into the walls and clawing deep gouges as her body began to go into tremors. Her transformation was painful unlike her fathers. Having feathers stronger than steel or diamonds break out of your skin and your bones changing so rapidly wasn't really a walk in the park. She let out a scream until a sedation-rifle appeared and the small syringe was fired at her neck. She slumped forward onto the nice floors as the serum slowly began to work its magic.
This is a fine how-do-you-do welcome to the Avengers for the poor sap outside... Or is he inside?
Celaeno turned her body to where her back was against the wall as the pain slowly began to recede inside of her as her heart rate was lowered rapidly...
[[Sorry it's short, dear, and late. I've been rather busy.. >.<;;]]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 12, 2010 6:50 pm
Ioann did as he was told, calmly exiting the vehicle despite the gruff sense of urgency in Celaeno's voice. He reached into the back of the vehicle to grab his ruck, slinging it over one shoulder as he simultaneously heard the door slam. He walked up the steps, not sure whether to call the stairs 'art-deco' or 'post-modern' or 'pseudo-Victorian'. Ioann noticed this distinct theme continued on to the interior of the mansion, somehow borrowing from every significant stylistic period and putting them together in a way that was not entirely unpleasing to the eye.
Stepping through the doorway his attention was diverted from the architecture to something much more pertinent: namely the amount of security cameras and devices setup about the place. These were not the low-budget bulky cameras that took up an entire corner and could only see in a rough cone. No, these were tiny eyes, barely perceptible, hidden in the natural seams of the architecture and able to move along the halls and rooms. Security here was thorough, to say the least. Ioann was impressed, perhaps this place would actually stand a chance at fending off a few COSMO operatives.
Following the sounds of his sole compatriot he caught the tale end of her near-transformation. At least, that's what he assumed it was. Her clothes tore, perhaps revealing more than she would have liked, but Ioann couldn't tear his eyes away. Muscles seemed to boil up from hidden reserves underneath her skin, forming, shaping and somehow adding extra mass to her body. He could hear the grinding of bone and cartilage and sinew as her skeleton struggled to deal with the weight while becoming a frame more suitable to her new body. Her fingers became like blades, spines began to erupt from her skin. Ioann was utterly enchanted.
Then she screamed, a dart flew from some unseen porthole in the wall. Her transformation was stopped, and then slowly reversed. The spines retracted, her skeleton slowly popped back to normal, the muscles melted away becoming smooth skin and soft curves once again. Ioann was thoroughly disappointed. He had seen the beast within, and now could only hope he would someday see it in its' full glory.
Cautiously he approached her, he may have been curious but he certainly didn't have a death-wish. Part of him wanted to ask if she was OK, he chose to ignore it. Instead he simply fixed her with his dead stare, choosing to focus on her face and not the parts of her clothes that had been torn and shredded. He was patient, and would wait until she felt well enough to either guide him to his room or pawn him off on someone else to play tour-guide.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 12, 2010 7:51 pm
Petre got the emergency call on her phone, it took her fifteen minutes to drive to Stark Mansion. It felt good to take the small drive and break away from her father, though her mind was still embedded in the armor even when she had parked at the outside, front parking lot at the mansion. Her favorite car turned off smoothly, a gorgeous blue Lotus. The small woman got out and shuffled lazily through the mansion, her sneakers shush-shush-shushed and she walked in a half-awake state. It didn’t take her long to learn the layout of a building or a new city. She could move through the mansion with her eyes closed, she could move through many places in that way and with the groggy way her eyes stayed in slits. She felt tired but not tired enough to sleep.
Her mind was full of what was going on back in the garage at Stark Tower II, working on Rescue, War Machine, and her father’s brilliant new armor. Plugging it all in with Cold Fusion Power and innovative tricks, the things that made Iron Man what he was. Gotta stay ten minutes ahead of the world, right Papa?
Coming down the stairs, she was dressed in a loose pair of jeans held on by a belt yanked as tight as it would go with the strap left to wave back and forth in front of her, not even tucked into the belt loops. The jeans were stained with gunk. Her shirt was an off-gray, it had holes all along the edges and half the sleeve on her right was pulled away showing almost all of her cybernetic arm that connected into her shoulder with matte silver and chunks of black. It was no longer something Pete thought about, like a tattoo long forgotten.
Unstable, neutral, stable, superstable… Pete’s mind started to slide back into her many degrees and problem solving. She absent mindedly checked the stock market on her phone, descending the stairs, arms lifeless at her sides, shoulders sagging.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Sep 14, 2010 5:30 pm
This is how they react to an emergency? Hate to see what would happen in an actual crisis. Ioann thought as their lone reinforcement slowly made - her? - way down the hall. Ioann had to admit that she - if she was indeed of the feminine persuasion - did possess a certain androgynous charm. The bionic arm certainly made him wonder though. Perhaps the fingers had monomolecular wires capable of making him into human hamburger, perhaps one of the fingers was an explosive device that could be detached and planted, perhaps the arm contained a shotgun, the elbow a mortar, perhaps each little joint and articulation could produce its' own blade... Another thing Ioann had learned, aside from a healthy loathing for psychics, was the ingenuity of cyborgs.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered what could have happened that would need such a drastic operation. She didn't seem the type willing to sacrifice a limb for increased combat efficacy, which meant that she probably had suffered some sort of accident or disease. Ioann jammed his right hand further into his pocket, determined to hide the mark that ran up the entirety of his arm. He hated it, he wished he'd never received it. It had once had an entirely different meaning, but now it brought nothing but painful memories.
Ioann dropped his ruck onto the floor, a soft thud marking its' impact. He had moved down the hall, positioning Celaeno between himself and the newcomer. If she was their aid then he didn't want to interfere with her work. He stared at her as she approached his position, his dead eyes fixed on her barely open orbs.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Sep 14, 2010 6:24 pm
Houghhe serum had worked it's magic on taming the harpy, Laney was still getting the worst of the painful after effects of the last-resort drug she had made from her father's research and her own. The drug would work but it was extremely painful to experience as it coursed through her blood stream eating away the adrenaline that had caused her sudden out break. She was sweating and her face had lost all color. Her storm colored eyes were a dull grey and glassy. To be specific, she was in shock. Her hands shook terribly as she went to cover herself where the shirt was torn. As Pete made her entrance, Celaeno managed to get to her feet despite the scrutiating pain her body was in.
"Serum works," she managed to start though her voice was in a scratchy state. She placed a hand on the wall in attempt to cover up the gouge marks--like that would do any good. Laney glanced back at the Russian before returning to Pete,"He doesn't speak English..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Sep 14, 2010 6:49 pm
“Yeah?” Pete sounded cranky. She eyed Celaeno and started to pull open drawers, accidents happened around here and she knew her father kept some of his personal concoction for every sort of discomfort. “No english, well, he must speak something.” Petre said, not at all concerned by this. She took up one syringe and then tossed it in the nearby, full, trash-bin and then took out a small black case and struggled with it a few seconds before it popped open. “Right,” She took out one of the needles and turned towards Celaeno with it. “Its something Papa put together for people in shock, it ought to do something for you.” The olive skinned girl stuck it in Celaeno’s arm without asking or saying anything else, pushed the shot down, and tossed the used syringe into the can. It rolled out onto the floor, Pete ignored it.
The girl taped on the table, it came to life with blue screens filled with symbols that only had meaning to her. A screen popped up in front of Ioann, projected from some hidden slip in the wall, everything here disguised and smooth; the industrial fusion of Tony Stark and his child. Her blue eyes, dark, a swimming pool with all the lights turned off went to him and made a circle motion around the screen as her other hand continued to tap more on the table, touching keys without looking at them and more and more languages began to fill up the screen in front of the man. “I can speak all the languages on that screen, hopefully he picks one. Where did you find him? I don’t remember ordering any random men who can’t speak English.”
Pete scratched her short black hair, “Uh, feelin’ any better Celaeno?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Sep 15, 2010 6:33 pm
Ioann watched Celaeno stand. She was trembling terribly, so much so that Ioann almost thought about possibly trying to reach out and help support her. A half-second later he decided against it. She was still standing after all, so she couldn't have been in too much pain. The psychic and the cyber-pixie had a brief conversation before the pixie suddenly jabbed a needle into the psychic's arm. Ignoring the serious medical malpractice this could have inflicted, Ioann wondered what had been in the syringe. He also made the decision to stay out of arms reach of either of these women, being stuck with random needles was not something he wanted to take a chance on.
A screen popped up in front of him, opaque blue, and luminous. Ioann poked it. He was moderately surprised when his finger pressed through as though it were thin air. So this was just a hint of what Mr. Stark had to offer? And to think most Leviathan scientists were still working with touch-screens.
Text began to stream onto the screen. Line after line of text, in multiple different fonts. Ioann was puzzled at first until it occurred to him: the fairy was trying to communicate. Unfortunately despite the exhaustive list he couldn't find Russian. However he did find one that he was able to recognize.
"Λυπάμαι, ήταν μια στιγμή δεδομένου ότι έχω χρησιμοποιήσει αυτή τη γλώσσα. Πρέπει ήχου φρικτό." He had chosen Greek. Another souvenir of the Caucasus mountains. He spoke well enough to fool any foreigner but a native speaker would have picked him out right away.
"Το όνομά μου είναι Ioann και είμαι εδώ για να συναντηθώ με τον κ. Stark." he said, facing the cyber-fae squarely.
((1: I am sorry, it has been a while since I have used this language. It must sound horrible.
2: My name is Ioann and I am here to meet with Mr. Stark.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
