chelsea wilde

“Let me give you a ride, Jim. You don’t even need to change.” I said thanks and grabbed my stuff. I climbed into the passenger side. Mrs. B. was driving one of the massive cars of the day, a Delta 88 or something. She turned out of the school parking lot, turning away from the the way to my house. “I want to pick up something at my house first. Give you a chance to see where I live.”

The following two fights went by with little enthusiasm from the audience. Their thirst for blood had been beyond satiated, and now they were simply left sick. Foley withstood his opponent’s attacks as always, waiting for him to tire before opening his defenses and striking back. Saimallah crushed his opponent without touching him, ending the match in seconds.

Reiss had been poisoned, likely by Viktor, but without solid proof of his involvement, there was reasonable doubt. Considering that the church and countless other spectators were betting on him, it could have easily been someone else. It seemed there was only one way for Noah to make the fight go how he wanted. He had hoped to avoid involving himself in the tournament like this, but considering how he screwed up Falco’s chances at revenge in the previous round, perhaps it was fitting he be the one to punish Viktor. He placed his hand on Reiss’s corpse and cast his cloning magic, taking on the dead man’s appearance. He then stuffed the body back into the closet, planning on dealing with it later.