Wallaby Bay
Claymont could barely contain his ecstasy as he walked the streets of Wallaby Bay in blue demin jeans and loose green T-shirt, provided by his accomplices. His brown hair bleached and reflective sunglasses concealing his distinctive blue eyes, he felt like a new man – invisible in the eyes of authorities yet not unknown. There was already someone in there when he arrived so he took the time to mentally walk through the stages of his grand plan for revenge on the Espial. By the end of the day, they were going to wish that they had never messed with the likes of Gareth Claymont.
His main target, of course, was Windsor. She had humiliated him to no end right in front of his colleagues, tying him up like a turkey for the next Thanksgiving season. It had been bad enough to be tied
