Hey Readers!

Well, here's Part Two of the Halloween story arc; this chapter starts on Halloween Night, 1996. It's gonna focus on three different POV's, so I've put when and where it changes from one person to another.

I hope you all enjoy the chapter!

Halloween: Part Two

Brooklyn POV:

"You know you didn't need to wear a costume," Elijah said. "People will already think you're wearing one."

"It's the spirit of the holiday," Brooklyn replied, taking in his Superman-esque costume in the hallway mirror, the gargoyle using his wings to serve as the cape. "Besides, Fox made a costume for each of us, and I figured I might as well wear it."

"But did she have to get me one? I don't even know her, and I'm a little too old for costumes," the deaf teen said from the other side of his bedroom door, having locked himself in his room.

"Is someone scared of going out in public in a costume," the gargoyle asked jokingly.

"I'm not scared! I just… I don't know Mr. or Mrs. Xanatos, and I'm not even going to their party and… How'd they even get my pants size?!"

"They stopped by this morning and I gave them some of your clothes," his Uncle Jeffrey said, walking down the hallway and stopping by his nephew's door. "They said that Brooklyn told them last night that you didn't have a costume, and they insisted on getting you one. I wanted to see what was taking you two so long, but it appears I have an answer."

"Et tu, Brute?"

"Was that Shakespeare," his uncle asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"C'mon," Brooklyn said, knocking on the door again. "Quit stalling! The night's fading fast! Besides, that town festival ends at ten, and it's nearly eight!"

"Fine," the deaf teen snapped. "But don't say I didn't warn you." The door unlocked and slowly opened, and the teen stepped into the hallway.

Wherever Fox had gotten his costume, it was of surprisingly good quality, given the secret last-minute request from Brooklyn the night before; he supposed being super rich had its perks. The teen was dressed in a nice three-piece tan suit, looking like he had just stepped out of the 1920's. This fact was further accented with the bowler hat on his head, the fake white imperial mustache, and the cane in his hand. All in all, he looked like he was going to a high-society event, not to a Halloween outing.

"Who are you," Brooklyn asked, having not seen the costume, since Fox gave it to him in a cleaners bag, and almost not recognizing his friend. "Fox went all out for you!" He looked at his own costume, which almost seem childish compared to his friend's.

"The note it came with said I'm supposed to be Hercule Poirot," Elijah replied, looking at his costume with slight discomfort. "Guess Uncle Jeffrey here told her I was a mystery fan. I'm not used to wearing anything this nice… I still can't believe they did this for me."

"Well, I can't see it," his uncle spoke up, "but you better write them a thank you note."

"But I didn't ask them to-" His excuse faltered under the blind man's glare, and the teen nodded. "Fine. Good thing it's kind of cold tonight or else I'd be sweating in this getup!"

"I think it suits you," the gargoyle said, trying to cheer the teen up with the obvious pun.

"I'll frame you for murder, Super Gargoyle," Elijah replied in a fake French accent. "Now don't make me take you down with my trusty cane!"

"Okay, you two," Uncle Jeffrey said before the two got into a fight. "I say that if you're ready to go, then let's go downstairs before Hudson thinks we all died." The author led them downstairs and into the library, where the older gargoyle sat by the back door, waiting for trick-or-treaters, the two dogs sleeping at their feet.

"Nice costume, lad. Now Brooklyn, make sure that ye keep him safe, and that no one finds out who ye are," Hudson added.

"I'm not that pathetic that I need a protector," the deaf teen said annoyedly.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Brooklyn assured him. "I doubt anyone would want to attack a senior citizen!" He avoided the teen's cane as it swung at his face. "See you later!"

"Stay safe you two," Mr. Robbins called out after them.

"We will! Bye," Elijah said, and they both stepped out into the night, walking past a small group of kids approaching the back door of the blind author's house, a few of them commenting Brooklyn's 'costume.'

"How're you not cold," the teen asked as they walked down the road heading towards the town, passing more groups of kids that were running around and laughing, wearing costumes and toting bags of candy. "It's probably 50 degrees out here!"

"Gargoyles just don't freeze that easily," Brooklyn replied. "Technically, it's colder at night, so I guess we're built to survive lower temperatures. But it's not that cold tonight."

"Speak for yourself; Texas is one of the hottest states in the US, and right now, it's probably 80 degrees there."

"That must be pretty annoying."

"We manage; I'm used to it by this point, and it's kinda funny how people up here see a 75 degree day as 'unbearable' when sometimes it reaches over 100 degrees where I live."

"Wow! How're you not dead?"

"I'm a survivor," the teen replied seriously, though the grin on his face showed he was only joking. "C'mon; it's about a ten or so minute walk into town."

[]

Weisman was ready for Halloween; the main street lampposts were decorated with fake pumpkins, and the store windows had images of ghosts and spooks on them, with a few having jack-o'-lanterns sitting outside as well. Most were open, offering candy to costumed kids, as well as selling hot apple cider to chase away the chill of the outside. A generous number of people milled around with their kids, who were running around, high on the sugary treats as Michael Jackson's "Thriller" played from a nearby speaker system. Of course, the gargoyle knew what Halloween was about, and was glad that this year, it would be free of drama and attacks, which would be welcome after nearly dying a week ago.

"So this is Weisman," Brooklyn said, looking around at the buildings. "It's… smaller than New York City."

"Yeah; you probably wouldn't find a good place to sleep during the day here," Elijah replied. "Most people have lived her their whole lives; they'd notice a statue suddenly appearing in town."

"Fortunately they don't notice that this isn't a costume," his friend replied as they walked around the edge of the crowd, earning a few more compliments as they watched everyone celebrate. "And I will admit, there's something here that seems more… familiar."

"Familiar?"

"Yeah. Back in Scotland, our clan and the humans we protected were all in one castle and the surrounding land. Naturally, everyone was pretty close, and sometimes had festivals and celebrations like this. Of course, no one wore costumes like this back then."

"Do you sometimes find it hard to believe that you're no longer in the time you were born in," Elijah asked.

The gargoyle hesitated a little, but eventually nodded. "Sometimes. I mean, it's easy, since we've been here for years now, but every now and then… I remember."

The teen could tell he had hit a sore subject, and looked around for some sort of distraction. He found one, but gave a small groan of annoyance when he realized what it was. "Oh no."

"What," Brooklyn asked.

"It's Mrs. Flemming." Brooklyn looked over at a woman who stood about six yards away, currently dressed as a witch, which he did not know was supposed to be ironic or prophetic.

"The crazy Choir teacher lady," the gargoyle asked.

"That's the one." He froze as he saw the woman notice him, and start towards him. "And she's coming this way."

"Don't worry; she'll think I'm in costume."

"But who do I say you are?"

"Hello, Elijah," Mrs. Flemming said, stopping a few feet away from the duo of friends. "Glad to see you've stumbled upon the Weisman Autumn Festival."

"Uh… y-yeah," Elijah replied, trying not to sound awkward or reveal that he didn't want to talk to her. "It's… it's nice."

"And who might you be," she asked, turning towards Brooklyn. "Interesting costume choice."

"Thanks, ma'am. I'm Brooklyn." The gargoyle awkwardly stuck out his hand for her to shake, but after a few seconds of her not returning the greeting, he let it fall. "I… I thought it'd be cool to wear two costumes this year."

"I can see that," she said, looking him up and down. "How ever did you manage?"

"My… my family's rich, and we know a costume... person..." He sounded unconvincing, and based on the look the woman gave him, he knew he better start making sense. Fast.

"Do you live around here," she asked.

"I live in New York City."

"Interesting. So how are you two friends, since Mr. Robbins here is from Texas," the Choir teacher asked, her face showing that she would not take a sub par answer.

"Uh…" The gargoyle looked at Elijah, just as lost as he was; they really should have planned on a situation like this one, but now there was no turning back.

"He's… my… audiologist's son," the teen said, trying not to sound like he was lying.

"Your… audiologist's son," the teacher asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah… for my ears; my old one's back in Texas, and when I went to meet the one here in New York, I met Brooklyn here."

"Yeah," the gargoyle spoke up, agreeing with the teen's story. "My dad's his audiologist, and asked if I could probably be his friend."

"Are you friends," Mrs. Flemming asked.

"Of course we are; we can sign to one another and everything."

"But you yourself aren't deaf?"

"Nope, but with a parent that deals with deaf people a lot, I kind of picked it up."

The woman looked at the two of them suspiciously for a few more moments, but then eventually nodded. "Good for you; I don't know how old you are, but I can tell you're older, and most people your age don't really take the time to help out someone younger than yourselves."

"Uh… thank you," Brooklyn replied awkwardly, wondering if it was a compliment.

"Have you been practicing your piano part," she asked Elijah. "The concert is Monday night."

"I've been practicing," the teen replied, knowing that she knew that he had been practicing. "My uncle bought me a keyboard, and-"

"Oh!" The woman threw her hands up at that. "Well, I guess it's better than nothing, I suppose. Will you be coming to his concert," she asked Brooklyn.

"Uh… no, I can't, because I'm gonna be… out of town that day."

"Really? Where will you be?"

"Florida," Elijah answered, while the gargoyle wondered why the heck they were continuing to lie instead of just telling the woman to mind her own business.

"So you know he won't be coming," she asked him.

"Yes, but that's okay; at least we get to hang out now. Do you know what my costume is," the deaf teen asked his teacher, hoping to stump her.

"Hercule Poirot," she replied automatically. "Now, if you two will excuse me, I need to be going now." Then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she was leaving, disappearing back into the crowd.

"Uh… you teacher is…" Brooklyn started to say.

"Crazy?"

"Yep."

"... How did she know who you were supposed to-"

"I don't know." The two of them were silent for a while, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

"Well," Brooklyn said, "you were right about her; and I thought you were just exaggerating. Is she always that nosy?"

"You have no idea," Elijah assured him. "But c'mon; let's go get some cider or something." And the two of them walked away from Mrs. Flemming, the Wicked Witch of Weisman.

[][][]

Amanda POV:

The Choir Party at Art's house was the first Halloween party Amanda had ever been invited to. Usually, she would go to the festival in town, but the girl was excited to go this year; it meant she was finally old enough to leave behind the childish games at the festival, and enjoy some real fun. But by the second hour after the party started, she realized she was bored, and not enjoying herself.

Sure, there was music, dancing, snacks, and all the stuff one sees at teen parties on TV, but something was missing… The girl couldn't explain it, but even with her friends by her side, she was not enjoying the party. Maybe it was because it was at Art's house, and he was known to be a jerk, but Amanda simply took a sip of punch as the stereo played loudly from the other room.

Maybe she just had a lot on my mind at the moment, especially with her older brother visiting home from college. It wasn't that she hated him; he was a hard person to hate, he was so nice and charming to everyone. It was more of how her parents doted on him and acted like he was their only child whenever he visited; the girl could already tell that Thanksgiving and Christmas would be a nightmare.

"Oh my gosh I LOVE this song," Amanda's friend Sally screamed in my ear; she was also a Soprano, so her voice was high and especially loud. Amanda listened to the music coming from the stereo, which seemed to be by the Backstreet Boys.

"Yeah," the girl agreed, nodding in agreement. "This sure is a good song."

"Come on, Amanda! You've been standing there forever!" Sally grabbed her arm arm, pulling her towards the living room where the other kids were dancing. "It's Halloween; don't tell me you'd rather be helping out at the lame wreath stand!"

"No… of course not," Amanda lied, giving her a small smile. In reality, helping out at the family wreath stand every past Halloween was one of her favorite pastimes. But Jason was on his college fall break, so her parents insisted that he be at the stand all night with them, which influenced her decision to come to Art's party. Besides, between going to a party at Art's house and having to hear her mother bragging about how great Jason's college career is going, the girl would chose the fun one.

"I just… I'm not a good dancer," Amanda continued.

"Now that's a lie," her friend told her, pulling her into the center of the room. Sally started to dance wildly, singing along with the music, and after a while Amanda joined in, giving her a real smile. A few of the other choir kids started to laugh as well, and they all danced to the song, those that knew the lyrics singing along. For a while, the girl started to forget about Jason, as well as another person who wasn't at the party tonight.

"Hey, everyone," Art called, turning off the stereo as the song ended. "Come in here! Let's play a game!"

"What game," Cecilia asked in her usual whisper; she was as quiet as a mouse, but she sang like Aretha Franklin.

"Oh, can we play a board game," Kathy asked happily.

"That's stupid," her twin brother Kaleb told her. "How're we supposed to all play one board game; there's sixteen of us."

"We can all play different board games," she snapped at her brother. "Or do teams!"

"But I don't want to play a board game!"

"We're gonna play charades," Art interrupted, cutting off the twins' argument. "Any volunteers?"

"I'll go," Sally said excitedly, always the voice of enthusiasm, and walked to the front of the room, stating that it was a thing. It took a few minutes, but the group eventually deciphered that was a vending machine. After she sat down, others volunteered and Amanda couldn't help but laugh as she tried to guess who or what they were supposed to be; the girl temporarily forgot about her uneasy feeling from earlier, but that came crashing back when Art took his turn.

"It's a person," he told us, standing at the front of the room. Then, he stood up straight, avoiding all eye contact with anyone and looking almost dumbfounded.

"Alf," someone suggested, earning a few laughs, but he didn't respond. Amanda tried to figure out who he was supposed to be as other people gave their suggestions, but she couldn't figure it out. Art continued to act as if he did not hear their answers, not even shaking his head no, which was not how the game went; if someone guessed wrong, the person currently pretending had to give some sort of indication that the guesser was wrong. However, the pieces did not fall together until the teen started to fiddle with his ears, almost in an exaggerated way, as well as waving his hands in front of him.

He was making fun of Elijah.

Amanda knew that Elijah couldn't [or at least didn't want to] come to the party, partly being because Art disliked him, but this… Elijah didn't mess with his ears all the time! Yes, sometimes he would adjust the volume of his hearing aids for when the group started singing, but not it in the mocking way that Art was pantomiming. And he could still hear them; he wore hearing aids so he could hear! What made it worse was that other people were laughing, seeming to catch on to who it was. The girl knew that not everyone else knew much about Elijah, given how he hesitated to socialize with any of the other students, but she thought they'd at least have the decency to say something about how wrong this was.

"I know who it is," Sally yelled naively. "It's Elijah!"

Art did not seem to hear her. However, when other people started to repeat the answer, he fiddled with his ears, said, "Sorry, I couldn't hear you guys," and smirked. And something in Amanda seemed to snap. Usually when Art acted like a jerk, she didn't say anything, but now she did.

"What the hell is wrong with you," she snapped, the words just slipping out without any thought.

Everyone went silent and looked at her, and the girl felt her cheeks go warm. She couldn't tell what they were thinking, but she doubted it was anything good. After all, everyone else had been having a good time, and now she was yelling at the host of the party.

"What," Art said, still smirking. "It's just a joke! He's not even here, so no harm done!"

"Still, it's rude to make fun of him," Amanda replied.

"Why? Because he can't hear? Since when do you care about some disabled freak?"

"He's not a freak," the girl snapped, getting to her feet and glaring at him. "And he can hear, for your information; hearing aids help people hear! You're just jealous because he's a better singer than you!"

There were a few gasps at that, and the blood seemed to drain from Art's face. The girl could feel Sally pulling on her sleeve, but she waved her friend away; this fight was between her and this smug tenor. However, he soon sneered.

"I get that Flemming assigned you to help him, but you don't have to fall in love with him," he retorted

Amanda face went red, and some people laughed. "I don't like him! We're just friends, and if you know what's good for you, you'll cut this stuff out!"

"What's good for me," he repeated, laughing a little. "What're you gonna do? Tell my mommy? Tell Elijah? What'll he do?"

"Nothing, since I'm about to do it for him," she replied, and suddenly having a courage and strength she had never possessed before, she punched Art Reaves in his perfect, smartass face.

It probably wasn't the smartest move, but it was too late to turn back time. He stumbled back at the sudden blow, nearly hitting the wall, holding his now bleeding mouth and wincing with pain. Behind the girl, everyone gasped, and Amanda herself was stunned, looking at her hand.

I… I just did that, she thought, the reality of the situation hitting her at that moment. I attacked him… because of-

Suddenly, the girl couldn't stay there; she felt that she would be sick if she stayed. Pushing past the twins, she quickly walked into the front hall, grabbed her coat, and walked out the front door into the night. She didn't know where to go, or what she'd do, but she was determined to get as far away from this house as she could.

The road Amanda was on led towards Weisman; Art's family lived out in the country, so she had quite a walk ahead of her. She didn't care; all she could think about was what had just happened, and what it would mean for her in the future. Not only had she punched the star singer of the choir group in the mouth, probably damaging it right before their first concert, but now everyone probably thought that she liked Elijah Robbins.

But I don't like him, the girl told herself, turning left at the main road towards the town, the one that ran parallel to the ocean. I… I don't like him.

But even as the girl thought it, she wondered if she was lying to herself. There were a ton of reasons she shouldn't like Elijah Robbins; he was sarcastic, rude, distant, and still held a grudge against her from the Blockbuster Incident. Any other girl would keep their distance, and she knew she should too. But… for some reason…

"Get a hold of yourself," she muttered, trying to steady her breathing as she leaned against a nearby wall; she had been walking for nearly ten minutes now. Looking in front of her, she saw the ocean several yards away, calm and tranquil in the moonlight; the exact opposite of her life. The beach didn't have to worry about whether people liked it or not, nor if it may or may not have a crush on someone, nor that its older brother was back, reminding it of how horrible it's own grades were.

Turning back up the road, Amanda realized that she happened to be stopped in front of Jeffrey Robbins' house, and that the gate was open, allowing kids to come in and out to accept candy, though none were visible now. It was a majestic two-story brick house, and a light was visible from behind most of the rooms.

Suddenly, for no reason, the girl got mad at Elijah; if he had just manned up and come to the party, Art wouldn't have dared to pull that stunt of his, and they would all be having a fun time. Not to mention she would not now be subjected to her peer's uncaring judgement. She was mad at him for being rude to the other choir kids, her friends [though she doubted many would still like her after tonight], and for still being upset with her for the Blockbuster Incident, which was purely an accident, but he WOULDN'T LET IT GO! He probably wasn't even out with a friend; he was probably alone inside that house, using a fake excuse to not see anyone.

Well, the girl thought determinedly, glaring at the house, let's see how rude you after I have an embarrassing moment to hold over your head!

And with that, she walked up the gravel driveway to the house, head held high, and knocked on the door. It took a few seconds for someone to answer, but when someone did, she suddenly felt as meek as a mouse, unable to even say a word.

"Can I help ye, lass," the man asked, looking down at her. He was wearing a gargoyle costume [she figured he must have seen them on the news, and thought it would be cool] and carried a small bowl of candy in one hand. He sounded and looked old, and even wore some armor, as if he were a gargoyle soldier or something. It couldn't have been Mr. Robbins, since this guy could clearly see her, so the girl figured it must be a friend of his; she knew old people liked to hang out together, reminiscing on the old days.

"Ye seem a little old ta be trick-or-treatin'," he continued, his Scottish brogue very evident. "And ye don't have a bag."

"What," Amanda replied, momentarily confused, as well as embarrassed; what if Elijah saw her? But who cares if he saw her? She was here to humiliate him!

"Uh… yes," she continued, gathering some courage again. "I'm Amanda; I'm a friend of Elijah's."

"Are ye, lass," the man said, smiling a little. "Well, I'm afraid he's not here; he and Brooklyn are out at the Festival. Ye'll probably find them there."

"Thanks, but I… "

The girl's words died in her throat as the man's words echoed in her brain. Elijah wasn't there? Meaning… he wasn't lying about having plans… meaning that her perfect plan had fallen through. She might as well add that to the list of things going wrong with her life that night. And if they were at the Festival… would she go there? What would she say? She had no idea who this Brooklyn person was, and if she went, she'd probably be attacked on all sides from her mom's friends, talking about Jason. Perfect Jason. Perfect 4.0 GPA, handsome, model sibling Jason, the pride of the Ross family. Jason, who could do no wrong. And here Amanda was, having just punched one of her classmates, her plan on embarrassing Elijah dead at her feet. Everything in her mind collided in one giant crash, and she suddenly started crying, breaking down on the back step right then and there.

"It's not fair," she stammered through tears, seemingly unable to get a hold of herself. "Art was being a… Jason is… And Elijah just…" She started crying some more, just sobbing her heart out on the back step of the Robbins house, not caring about the world around her.

"Uh… I… Robbins," the old man yelled, going back into the house. "I think we have a situation."

Great, Amanda thought. Now Mr. Robbins, who saw my mom in the grocery store and knew her well enough that he'd sometimes say hi to me if I went shopping with her, would probably call her and tell her that her mess of a daughter was crying on his doorstep. Or offer to take her to the festival to talk to her in person, which would be a hundred times worse. Suddenly, the girl felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay," a kind voice asked, and through her tears, she saw a man who looked vaguely like Elijah, but older, taller, and wore sunglasses instead of hearing aids. By his feet, his seeing-eye dog stared at her curiously, some sort of harness on it that allowed her to lead the author around.

"I… I'm so sorry Mr. Robbins," Amanda said quickly, wiping her eyes on her coat sleeve. "I just… I'm fine, and I'll... I'll just be going-"

"You are clearly not fine," the blind author told me. "And don't think I don't know it's you, Amanda Ross." The girl froze at that statement, wondering if he was going to call her mom. "Don't worry; I won't call your mother, but I insist that you sit down and tell me what's troubling you, and what my nephew has to do with it."

"W-What?"

"Hudson told me you mentioned my nephew, along with a few other boys, one being your brother," the author replied. Amanda winced a little at Jason's mention, and he heard it, nodding understandingly. "I heard he was back in town; you must have a lot on your mind. Come in and warm yourself by the fire. Would you like some water?"

Normally, the girl wouldn't do stuff like this; even though he knew her parents, Mr. Robbins was still a stranger, and walking into his home was probably a dumb and dangerous thing to do. But, for some reason, she felt that he was being sincere, and that if he was a sane enough person to be Elijah's legal guardian, then she would fine too. Besides, she always carried a small can pepper spray in her coat pocket, and figured it would still work on a blind man and his old friend.

She nodded. "Y-Yes, please."

[][][]

Thailog POV:

Thailog walked across the main atrium of the Labyrinth, which was in chaos around him. Behind him, the Manhattan Clan clones followed him obediently, still seeing him as their master. By now, the majority of the humans had run, but one was not so lucky. due to a limp. The gargoyle quickly caught up with him, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him off the ground.

"Please don't hurt me," the man stammered. "I… I'm unarmed, and-"

"Shut up," Thailog interrupted him. "I've been told that you live around here, and you see a lot of things. Hear them, too. Correct?" The man nodded. "I already know that Goliath was here earlier this evening, so tell me, is there anything else I should know about him or his clan? And please, speak truthfully; these clones will do anything I tell them to, including kill."

The homeless man gave the clones a scared glance, then turned back to their leader. "Please… I don't know-"

"Wrong answer." Thailog threw the man to the ground, stomping down on his foot and breaking it. The man gave a howl of pain, holding his injured foot, unable to move. "Now, let me ask you again; is there anything else you would like to tell-"

"Weisman," the man cried. "G-Goliath said something about two of his clan going up to Weisman tonight to visit some friends!" He was crying now, still holding his mangled foot, whimpering for mercy.

"This is interesting," Thailog said to himself, thinking. Of course, he needed all the gargoyles together to get their DNA samples at once, but two of them being upstate made this difficult; the easiest option was to wait for them to return back to NYC, and attack them then. However, he was intrigued as to who these 'friends' of the gargoyles might be, but knew that attacking them in a small town would probably draw unwanted attention to himself, even on Halloween. But if he got someone else who didn't mind the attention, someone expendable…

As he approached the hallway of cells, he prepared himself for the mutate he was about to see, remembering how obnoxious the individual was. Sure enough, the winged mutant was still in his cell, having been captured by the other mutates and the Manhattan Clan earlier that month. Of course, Thailog had dealt with this unsavory mutate before, but he knew that right now, he had no choice; Delilah was at the Castle with Goliath, and he wanted to be there to catch them.

"I know you," Fang said, getting up from his bed and walking over to the clear glass window that kept him locked in the tiny room. "Heard and saw what ya did to the rest of them; that's what they get for helping others! Be a pal and help a guy outta here?"

"Silence, you idiot," Thailog told him, glaring at the mutate. "I'm not here as your friend. Against my better judgement, I need your help."

The mutate frowned at that. "I'm hurt! Maybe I just won't help ya this time, buddy!" He sat down on his bed, looking like a spoiled child. "Go bother someone else; I'm busy, and can't help ya with whatevah ya needed my help with!"

"Even if it means getting revenge on the gargoyles?"

Fang looked up at the clone, surprised at first, but his frown quickly changed into a grin. "I'm listening."

After thinking it through, this is probably going to be a four part story arc. Also, more on Amanda's life in the next chapter.

Feel free to follow or favorite this story to be updated on new chapters, and feel free to leave a review on this chapter or others if you want. And, as usual, have a safe and happy week/weekend!

-aggiefrogger

Note: I do NOT own Hercule Poirot, Agatha Christie, the Backstreet Boys or Alf in ANY way, shape or form!