About high time for next installment. Since I lost the interest of my readers (and I also apologize for not being more up-to-date and regular with these things) I take all the blame. But I shall continue this at open will, concerning I've opened a heck of a Pandora's box I need to fix as well as answer. For all that is right in the world.
So enjoy, and comment if you like.
The night was cold when her life changed, sudden and in quite a dramatic fashion.
The tip of her hands found a variation in the form of a chill; it exceeded down to the farthest point in her spine.
Her eyes focused on the polished wood floor below her. Eventually the glances sporadically caught the fringe of nearby Persian rug.
Figures came into view.
One in particular, an older woman elegantly dressed in pearls and Gucci, continued to converse her words in empty air. She was sure her revelation was relevant, but only her lips moved, alongside her hands that's swayed by her side. It was matter of minutes as more banter was exchanged between an equally dressed gentlemen that became her company.
More words melted into the conversation piece until the distant girl that suffered so alone spurred to the surface.
From the depths; in extensions rising above the static and pictures, past the smokey goblets of nothing indelibly something began to surface.
Words... words etching:
You don't have a daughter. No matter what you would have me believe, I know YOU could never be related to ME...
Pictures reverted, faces faded. It replaced itself with dense darkness that shifted dramatically with the increase of light.
And between gunfire, the return mantras, voices, screams of collective chaos.
Take Him Down!
You Know Who!
Take Him down!
Listen No More! Kill Him...
TAKE HIM DOWN...
You know who Sara.. Take Him Down!
Light surrounded for moments more as Sara fought off the tirade of split ideas spinning in her head.
As it slowly settled, and the voices surrendered to her willing of them away, she turned her attentions at the situation present before her.
Ian Nottingham came into view, hair concealing his face.
Sara could tell he had his fist forced around something.
It wasn't long until his gaze shifted to the focus on the assailant before him.
She was clad in a black trench coat with a hood veiling her features and a gun drawn at her side.
With a swift motion and look of covert disgust, she threw it to the ground.
It slide across the floor with an echo that plastered off the floor.
It had become apparent that there was no more use for it.
Even though Sara couldn't make out any specific details, it didn't take rocket science to figure out where her eyes were geared.
Nottingham in response raised his clenched fist, finally flexing it open.
It was then that five shell casings fell to the ground.
A gasp escaped her lips, followed by eyes in amazement.
She heard the great escapades of Nottingham catching bullets with his bare hands.
She wasn't sure if she ever believed it.
But then again, she was becoming a believer in much.
She would just have to add this to that expounding and growing list that never seemed to have any limits when the Witchblade was involved.
Yes, that is what she would do.
Still, her reasonable side wanted to dispute it. Counter it.
But when would she learn?
Reason was not a word worth mentioning when Ian Nottingham figured into things.
So at this, she just piled this scenario into the back of her mind while settling on the fact normal shouldnt be thought of either.
A linger of something else also crossed her mind:
Not only did Nottingham catch those bullets while blinded, but somehow this mysterious woman, on top of not being able to see herself, managed to lock her target so sufficiently that if it was any other person besides Nottingham, they would have been dead.
Sara distinctly called in the casin point that the door was barely swung before the light penetrated inside the room.
So How did she even know where Nottingham was?
Before any more thoughts could be entertained on the strange assement between the two before her, her attentions were were turned.
Nottingham was raising his sword. The look that passed his features only said one spoke one thing:
The taking care of unfinished business.
And from the short sword that was produced from under the shadowed figure's trench,
the same line of thought was tracking her mind as well.
Wait? She knew how to sword-fight as well? Sara thought.
It was a quick thought, before it was dismissed.
Sara watched them both keenly.
The studies of movement they both took in. Both so elequently focused on the other, measuring.
It was only going to be minutes, she reasoned before the onslaught would be pursued again.
Whoever this woman was, it was evident Nottingham was on her execute list.
She wondered why, but then, consitering Nottingham and the what little she knew of it, it wasn't a mystery as to why he wouldn't have many friends.
Assassins usually don't.
The voices and chants slowly started to start again in her mind, blocking her focus, blocking her resolve. They disputed once more.
The two started their descent the dual. It seems it was unstoppable.
The woman took her free hand and vehemently tossed the table to the side.
With the force, it slid into the side of wall, catching the chair under it.
Nottingham seemed unfazed by her obvious attempts to incite his nerves.
It was then soon after that her voice broke the tense air.
"You should leave, Detective... Or has he tainted you too?"
A comment meant for her.
Sara willed the rising voices the Witchblade gathered to a whisper once more before she responded.
"I don't know, that depends on what your definition is."
She cooed wrying grasping at anything to divert her attentions.
It didn't work.
"I like you Pezzini, but what I do now is nothing on you. This is Personal. I advise you leave."
Sara could have laughed but instead heard the whispers becoming gradually louder once again.
"You think I run at the side of blood? Or Have you forgotten I'm a homicide Detective?"
After the quick exchange, the woman said nothing.
Slowly both leveled.
Sara was wondering why Nottingham silence conceded for as long as it did.
He just continued to measure her.
Sara could tell the clash of swords was only seconds away. She grasped at something to say but the voices starting to rise again once made that difficult.
In desperation, Sara shot out one last attempt to throw her concentration.
"Who Do I know?"
Instead of a response, their swords met.
Each one continued to comtemplate the others defenses.
Clashing. Up down, sides, to the front, and behind, all directions.
She moved lightning fast, Nottingham matched it like Liquid Ice.
The voices rose, shattering till they became screams, demands, confrontations, insults, jests, completely degrading.
Sara focus slowly started to phase out from the battle that raged in front of her, and her hands found the sides of her heads.
It ached, painfully. Words in pitches tore at her insides, and ripped against her brain matter until finally she couldn't hold composure any longer.
She dropped to her knees, pulling at her hair, banging her head back and forth.
"Stop it... Stop It.. Stop It... STOP IT!!"
It was a few more seconds until finally the voices ceased, and Sara stopped her rocking motion.
She felt strong arms around her, those she only knew to be Nottingham's and with much effort, brought her head up just in time to see a flash of black daggers dashing toward them both. Within seconds, her bracelet came to life, and tentacles of a spikey nature shot out from them.
Sara gasped at the amazment of how this weapon reacted on its own.
It picked the woman up off the groud, pinning her to the wall.
Finally the sheer force blew her veil back to revealed features.
Sara studied her for the first time, and somehow the thought that she was absolutely gorgeous could't help but cross her mind.
She had a mess of dark hair pinned behind her.
Her skin was tanned, dusky, like the sands of Arabia.
And her eyes were full of rage that filled in their grey canopy.
A few strands found their way into her face as she struggled against her restraints.
They weren't one to budge.
As Sara took her in with mixed thoughts, many thoughts, as to who this woman was, so did Ian.
He didn't say anything, but his looks spoke volumes.
Almost intimate with discontent.
Sara put his actions aside for the moment. Adleast he wasn't lunging toward her at present.
That was a step in the right direction.
Praise the small miracles.
It was then that a chuckle proceeded from the exotic woman pinned at her mercy.
"Who are you?" Sara demanded.
"Not a monster."
Her voice was deep and husky behind the British brogue.
It was at this cryptic comment that Sara was starting to remember how much this woman, although only knowing her a short time, was getting on her last nerve.
And that was rare for someone to do so fast. She could only recall another person that got under skin that speedily, and he happened to be standing right at her side.
Nottingham's eyes continued to bore into the mysterious women in silence.
Sara just might enjoy what she would soon do.
But the detective in her allowed another question before her temper took over the best of her.
"Who Are You?"
The Chuckle issued again.
Sara felt the grip of the tentacles tighten under her control.
Why? She wasn't sure. Maybe the Witchblade was feeding off her hot temper, as it usually had the tendancy to do.
Aside from the definance that issued from this woman, she knew she posed a good idea.
Hell wasn't she trying to get that answer from him minutes before all this weirdness happened? Still, no matter what her thoughts bounced too at present, she wasn't in line to deal with her, or this.
Answers were going to now come from her.
"He's tainted you bad detective. I worry for you.
He will only kill you when he tires of you, as he has done all his life."
Tires of her? That was about it.
Who did this bitch think she was?
His lover? No only was she a smartass, but she was downright stupid.
That was enough to uncheck any patience that lingered.
She tightened the reign of tentacles even more this time that it was starting to draw blood from the side of her cheek.
"I would advice you shut the fuck up on your allegations. And, if you value your face, I would like a name to go along with that."
Sara glanced back at Nottingham.
His eyes were so cold. The intent read into them was distant and purely homicidal.
Where had she seen that before? She wondered.. so familiar...
As his gazed bored into the woman, Sara could feel her grip tighten involuntarily.
And this time, it wasn't motivated by her, but more, it seemed, by him.
More blood began to ooze as it dug into her flesh.
It was only then that Sara realized why he had no need for words.
He had found a measure of control over her blade Or something was.
And something was telling her it wasn't Nottingham. He is a killer, for certainty, but those eyes... that look... it wasn't him.
The the intent for her blood was more then evident.
It was something Sara couldn't let happen.
She pulled her reserves to cut the psychic bond that fed off Nottingham's body and over into her own.
He didn't let go without a fight. Such a fight...
After what seemed minutes of an inward battle for control, the blade seemed to come to her.
Then the ousting foreign power conceded to defeat, deminishing.
As it did, the tentacles retracted almost immediatly, dropping the woman as a heap to the floor.
In that instant, Ian's eyes returned to his own.
His ice cold demeanor vanished, but apparently the animosity from the nameless woman didn't.
She lunged once again, her blood staining the floor as it sloshed from her face.
Light became distributed once again.
A white brilliant light.
Flashes came in cascading...
Not this light again...
As it raged on, Sara felt those strong hands grab her from behind once again.
Their extent pushed upwards through her torso, and then finally to her hips in a frantic hurry.
It dragged her from the movement of the ground until nothing was below her.
She found the urge to scream right on the tip of her tongue, but nothing issued.
The white before her slowly started to fade as she realized she was gliding through the darkness.
Not even hands that were once around her waist were present.
Again, the urge to scream from the sheer panic of darkness and the void of gravity hit her.
But her words didn't find her.
They cursed her existence.
The fear of the free fall...
Oh god she was falling, and it seemed there was no end to it.
Panic spread as she desperately grasped in the darkness for anything to break the eventually of her fall.
Soon, a touch brushed her.
A Human touch. She gripped with all her might, and it responded with the same urgency.
Soon Sara could feel that touch pulling at her through the darkness; close, wrapping around her with the need for deep contact.
It was with that intimate association, the fear of the free fall slowly faded.
Her hands found a touch of silk, of strands. She ran them through, grasping, pressing her head to the wall of solidity. She could feel hands riding up her back, to her hips, and legs finally intertwining with hers. The brush of fabric coiled; the nudging of a rough facial hair on her cheek.
The meshing between them soon became more then encompassing. It was then that her lips finally met him, and his forced their way into hers.
Hands became plastered, bodies became inseparable, and then all together something else was eserotically experienced...
The moment of air vanished, and encompassing cocoon surrounded her.
The darkness veiled details, but what vision lacked, touch compensated for.
As their lips continued to thresh together, she could feel the sloshing of his tongue moving to and fro, seeking her out with much pent up longing.
It met each time with more of an urge, more of a force.
More...When will it stop? It needs to stop...
More demanded until Sara slowly started to feel nothing but the taste of him in her.
In reluctance, her tongue started to move frantically back between his looking for an opening..
Looking for urging...
Reaching for a longing...
It seemed minutes passed as her heartbeat throbbed right into his chest.
It was with the same response from his into hers.
The kiss continued between their deepest intents.
Sara started to gasp until their was no crevice of freedom between them. The cocoon tightened...
A repeat of emotions resumed...
Demanding of them both..
In a grand motion, the pressing of force that brought their throbbing bodies together soon dissapeared.
Gravity was restored. As well as the frantic parting from both of them as they breathed in the first gulps of air.
Sara breathed heavily, as did Nottingham, taking it in with much appreciation as never before.
Even though air materialized, light didn't. The dense darkness was still very much present.
And in a avid attempt to find a vertical base, it was a few tries until Sara became successful.
What just happened?
She could feel Nottingham close.
"What the fuck just happened?"
Apparently Sara found enough composure to let the curses start ringing.
After what appeared ages, Nottingham's voice finally broke the air.
"Were Underground..." He replied.
Sara had about enough of that response. Before she could let the insults fly, he continued,
"Were on a path that will eventually run into the Old Main Line. From there we will be able get enough on higher ground to hit the working subways. The descent below probably would have killed us but it seemed the Witchblade compensated so that wouldn't occur. It will be a bit of a walk before we can reach the surface. Care to provide some light?"
Yeah that was nice, leave out the part where you totally violated me.
Or maybe it was I that violated you?
Sara raised her eyebrow, regardless of the abundant darkness. So that provided the answer to where they were, but it was a far cry from explaining what just happened. Either way, disputing an air breeching kiss in the dark wasn't something she wanted to expound upon when she couldn't even see him to inflict bodily pain. So her thoughts moved onto something else:
Nottingham, you've been waiting ages to do that, wernt you?
Were he ears deceiving her?
He described their location as if he was giving directions to a tourist about how to get to Times Square and 42nd.
Did Nottingham impart that they were going to travel the heights and depths of the subway tunnels abandoned for over 100 years that New York City had to offer? Yeah, that's what she thought he said.
And somehow, he knew the way.
Yeah, that's what she thought he said...
At that moment, as if right on time, she could feel her head starting to pound.
Being Thousands of feet underground would tend to do that to you.
And it was then too that she started to believe the story she could have thought he fabricated.
Yeah, that's what he said.
"Nottingham..." Sara Trailed, "I'm really starting to think your a vampire, all kidding aside."
That would be a more simple explanation, but nothing is that simple with me now is it Sara?
She was greeted with a hand on her shoulder that made her jump out of her skin.
It was then she heard his voice in her ear, hovering above her neck.
She felt chills going through her.
The sheer darkness was the culprit of that.
"Well think what you will, dear lady. Once you get some light going, I will gladly die under the sunlight, if that would please you."
She wished she could see him at that moment. Adleast to read into his eyes. The darkness and voices were playing tricks on her.
It was only then she decided to pay attention to his proposal. It would divert her thoughts or the creeping fear that was building in her.
"Where do you expect me to get light from?"
In response she felt his hand slowly creep to her arm, and then the metal that resided there. His touch sent more chills down her spine.
The liberties he was taking were so brazen, at any other time she might have just pummeled him. But within the cover of complete darkness, the idea of a familiar solidity to grab ahold of was strangely comforting. Even if it happened to be a world renown assassin.
Gathering that this was Nottingham, and not something else.
So many thoughts when through her mind, as his touch lingered on her that for seconds, she let the darkness overtake her eyes. They closed, and her head dropped slowly behind only to rest on the wall of his chest. In a quick jolt, she pulled it up, only to realize his other hand darted to steady her.
"You well?" He softly inquired.
She stuttered, taken aback by his concern for her.
Somehow, the tone in his voice verified that this was the Nottingham she knew.
She relaxed slowly.
"Y-Yes, " she moved to divert his touch.
He pulled back enough that he was not touching her, but enough for her to know he was still close.
After a few minutes of thinking and and willing, her bracelet beamed forth with light.
"I didnt know this thing was flashlight too."
She shown it in the direction of Nottingham.
His eyes squinted, taken aback by the sudden burst of light, but eventually adjusted.
She could have sworn she saw a smile cross his features, but just played if off as a reflex from immediate light exposure after being in total darkness.
"But you knew it, didnt you?"
Nottingham said nothing.
"Will it turn into an umbrella too? I definitely could use a makeshift killer alien umbrella..."
A few seconds commenced after the jests until Sara realized the precarious situation she found herself in.
Now would be the best time to let the sword wielding, trench coat donning, abandoned subway stalker assassin take the lead.
"By all means, Ian, please, be our guide."
I will gladly guide you, my love. Don't worry...
With that he moved in front of her, not before he passed off suggested glances her way.
Another play on the light and dark?
As they started to walk a ways, between where once lay old cesspools and cobblestone roads in now lay abandoned cracks, rusted stale concrete, dust and more alergins then she could shake a stick at, Sara fought the pounding of her head. She was amazed that it just didn't com bust with the sheer force that was wretched on it. Trying to turn her attentions to something else, she decided to take into account more mental imagery she would carry back with her to the surface world.
One in particular was the lack of rats. Somehow it seemed as deep as they were, even they took up residence in higher ground.
She continued to walk, winding, and straight, tripping a few times, only to be caught and brought back to vertical ground by Nottingham.
I have waited...I will wait again..
They continued on and on until Sara's feet grew exhausted and warn, her eyes grew accustomed to the unnatural balance of light and darkness, and the chills that she first had lessened.
After what seemed three hours of consistent walking, and forging the echoing steps between Nottingham and herself, something else broke the natural rhythm of the atmosphere.
The trickle of water.
It was only then Ian physically spoke.
Because throughout the treck, somehow she was reading his thoughts.
She paid no mind to respond to them, not not.
There was a time and a place to adress it.
Now was not.
At that they continued the sound of the trickle until it became more gradual.
Another hour of walking, it eventually led them to an old platform.
It was only then that a clank of metal hit her foot, causing her to stumble once again. Turning around to see if she was okay, Sara had already shone the light on the object that caused her obstruction. She picked it up, wiping away the layers of dirt that covered up emblazoned black ink. Shining the light on it, soon the words Broadway were read. The end of the sign had been battered and missing, but not that it mattered.
That was enough Sara had to read.
A ray of hope passed over her, if in the smallest of miracles, ad-least they were thousands of feet underground on the good side of town.
It was then that platform came in view.
Making their way, finally they came to rusted stairs leading upward towards what looked like a more modern sewer exit.
They started their ascension.
As they continued the climb, nearly thirty minutes worth, Sara felt her hands starting to tire.
Ian Sensed it too although it didn't seem like he was in as much straits by it that she was.
As the top neared, a slight rustle passed over.
That was hailed a good sign. The distant sound of working subways never sounded more accommodating.
It was then that Ian poped open the heavy metal cover, and pulled himself up, then aided her.
After the inital climb to the top, dim lights from above them slowly surfaced. It was enough so that she could discontinue the light provided from the Witchblade.
Ian eyed her. Once again, she could see his eyes, and they were piercing right through her.
He looked down at her hand, which seemed still to be locked in climbing mode. He gently forced them apart, to see red blisters forming on her palms. Tearing off a few pieces from the edge of his shirt, he wrapped her hands in them.
It was then that she could see the practicality in the gloves Ian wore all the time.
It was about then that Sara realized she was discovering more about his swarthy ways then she cared to know.
Before any questions could be answered, he finished bandaging her other hand, and then moved above another platform.
"There's one more level, before we reach the main station."
Another platform was climbed. Around this level, the view of the common subway rat was more then abundant as Sara carefully watched to steps to the next stairs leading up the more modern sewer exit. After another twenty minutes of climbing, Sara never appreciated more the bandages Ian had taken the time to wrap her hands in. It especially came in handy when the rustling grew so loud that they had to stop several times to keep composure.
Almost there, my love...
After one last train passed, Ian pulled open the metal closure.
He once again exited, and then moved to help her out.
Without much time, the brightly lit subway soon was upon them.
They climbed up the last platform, and onto the walkway until it led them to signs for the subway exit.
It was then that the misprinted Mosaic of Beverly Road had caught Sara's attention.
Half damp, aching from nearly five hours underground walking and climbing, it was only fitting this is where they were.
She turned around toward Ian.
"I thought the sign down there said Broadway..."
He looked a bit warn himself now that she could take a keen examination over proper light.
"The sign was in ruins, Sara. I'm sure it meant to say the Broadway Line, on the old track."
Sara turned around taking a much needed seat on one of then nearby benches.
The station was empty, thank god. She didn't feel like explaining her presence to anyone. She sighed.
"Ian..." Sara stopped, then continued.
"My life is already complicated. It's enough I'm kidnapped, taken underground, to be nearly killed, only to be dumped in the transient world of lost and forgotten subway systems, wandering for five hours, about broken down from exhaustion, depletion, smelling like sewer waste, only to be led to East New York in.. Brooklyn of all places..."
The last word was not spoken so much as spat.
Somehow, it seemed he was expecting that. It didn't phase him. Pulling his phone from the resources of his jacket, he dialed a number, and started speaking in a language she would have never connected him with. Words were spoken in what seemed a slow succession. It was only then that Sara noticed the language.
She had turned over a homicide months prior to the DA and the victims family spoke the exact same... Rival gang wars between the Haitians and Jamacians...
She raised a very much confused eyebrow.
Nottingham spoke Creole?
After the conversation ended, it was only then he started barking orders for her to get rise, since they needed to find cover. He reached for her arm.
It was at that point that she exploded.
"So as I was saying before you cut me off... I've been through alot, and I'm getting sick of running myself into the ground over god knows what, so I'm going to ask you again..."
Sara could hear his thoughts. She continued to act like she didn't.
"Goddamn it. I'm not going anywhere until we get a few answers right here and now. Who was she?"
Sara's emerald eyes raged, tearing into him.
"I will tell you everything once we get to safety, now is not the time.."
Really is not the time..
"I don't want to fucking hear it, Ian. As a matter of fact, I've heard that before. You better start talking, right here, right now."
He looked on at her, almost begging and pleading. But She wasn't giving into it.
Not here, I implore you..
He looked over again to see the subway abandoned.
The look upon her face was enough to start World War III.
With much restraint, he spoke.
"I was part of the British Intelligence years ago."
They killed killed my son. Their agents killed Victoria. They've been trying to kill me since I...
There was a pause.
Sara wouldn't let up. Her eyes urged him on.
"Since Irons disappearance."
"Why's that stopping them? Maybe crashing their lab and killing their lead scientist was more an issue. I mean, you would think..." Sara shot into the air.
Ian kept darting glances making sure no one was entering the subway.
A that comment his face tightened defensively.
"Nothing is that simple."
She didn't budge.
"Well when is anything with you?"
Who was that woman?
"Who was she?"
"Goddamn it Nottingham I'm in this thing now whether I like it or not... I deserve to know."
Her voice was hot. Insistent.
Ian struggled with the words.
In a hushed tone, he took one last glace around him.
"Her name is Emma."
Sara's breath caught in her chest.
I wasn't trying to kill her back there Sara...It wasn't me...
Sara sat in shock trying to connect the fragile pieces of an incomplete puzzle.
Then it was then the memories of times beheld over the past few days flooded her.
Flashes of the Azure eyed Vixen came to her, the twirling of the Invicta emblem...
A flood of images impaled her thoughts...
Emma being pursued by the same men in black...Government intelligence.
The confrontation in night...
The lab at Dover...
A man in a white coat... overlooking DNA, tests...
A vile was produced...The flash of obscured Czechnian Gorillas killing and dismembering...
The vile of clear liquid being injected...
Pains and sighs.
The Azure eyed vixen running frantically...crying...
As she is taken in, a hammer was taken to her scull, the disregarding of her body tossed into the dark murky waters...
The destruction of the lab, fire...
White sheets, wires, tests...
A boy laying under the them..black hair, eyes closed.
The tears shed under Ian's eyes...
Men in droves.
The turning of his words, echoed in her mind...
...Just to finish everything I started. Dont dismiss to quickly what you saw. For visions sometimes are only extensions of realities. We'll be in touch, Sara...
It was only then that Sara rose from her tresses of thought and backed against the cold stone of the subway wall.
In Moments, Ian was down at her side.
"I.. I knew it wasn't you back there..." She muttered understandingly.
"He's behind it all, still. Isn't he?"
Ian bowed his head.
We need to get out of here, Sara. I know he has them circled around the mansion, hence why I didn't go there. They will looking for both of us. He never knew of my abode from where we just departed. But somehow, his presence...overtook me. I tried to fight it, but he has a stronger connection with the blade then I do...
Sara rose slowly to a vertical base. She strangely understood all he said for she had felt the same thing too.
And somehow, as she remembered the words spoken Emma and then understood who she was referring to as well.
It posed a burning question still within Sara.
At that, a distant memory came to her...
Another in the long list the blade has been imparting to her.
You don't have a daughter. No matter what you would have me believe, I know YOU could never be related to ME...
A distant thought popped into her, and why it did, she wasn't sure.
"Is she...Irons daughter?"
Ian calmly looked amidst her.
"Not in the least."
She decided to let the revelation be.
"We need to find Emma before he does."
At that she stared into Ian. His head was once again downcast.
Controlling the blade is the answer. You must remember that no matter what connection Irons has to it, yours is the finality that it will ultimately respond to.
At that Ian just brought his eyes into hers.
She understood more then he thought.
"Well its going to take one hell of a coaxing to get her to co-exist with you."
Ian responded. "I suppose so."
He met her eyes in response. Thoughts returned of something she could have completely forgot about, but then realized caused her entire situation.
Yes?Soon the thoughts faded, and the connection seemed to be broken.
It was only after a few seconds of them both staring into each others eyes that her voice finally broke the air.
Why can I hear your thoughts? How is it you hear mine?
Because we are connected Sara. You will see that there is much to understand...
I don't know if I can do this. This is too evasive... Why did you kiss me?
I had no control over what your blade did, I was merely it's puppet...
You didn't... want it?
I don't if you don't want me to.
I... I felt...
It's okay. Not now. We will talk soon...I need to get you to safety.
What is it? I need to know...
"What was on that disc?"
There was silence.
"Ice was a project in the seventies conducted under British Intelligence with the financial aid of a relatively new financier called IIH. It was the first of it's kind to experiment on the newly understood DNA strand to create bio-tyrannical weapons of war. The first humans made a study of were Othniel and Kadijah."
Sara listened on intently,waiting.
"They were murdered when they tried to destroy the studies. But a few survived, and from them the potential abilities that could be manifested in their genes were secretly treasured. Soon sciences in the early nineties became more refined and it wasn't long until the predecessor was launched. Othniel and Kadijah's offspring became the targets.
They had twins. One was tagged for the longest time without knowledge, and the other went missing.
But finally a substance was formed with the one twins DNA. It went on to become the misery of nations and innocent people.
It was called Liquid Ice.. I regret my naive nature to this day...
"After this one found out that DNA was used for this purpose, the labs and studies were once again destroyed."
They studied it on my son... I killed that bloodsucking scientiest, I did. He took my life and then the life I didnt even know I had.. She was trying to tell me all along, but I kept running from her. I didn't want her to be involved in my life...mistakes...so many, Sara... I am a walking poison...
Sara was standing in amazement at the thoughts that began to connect in her head.
"...Oh my god Ian.."
Emma is your sister...Ian said nothing. He didn't have to.
Somehow it explained allot.
Her thoughts more so then turned to finding this strange woman then anything else at the present time.
"You think she figure out what happened and try to follow us?"
Ian was no more then certain.
"She'll will find us in no time. The only reason I pulled out back there is because of my lack ofcontrol.
Irons would have killed her, using me. But how can his presence still be here? The Witchblade Sara. He's using it. You need to learn to control it..Lock him in... How?
I cant let him do that to my own flesh and blood. God knows he's done it to others without my knowledge...
She smirked. Things were slowly starting to piece together.
At that moment and time, a few people finally graced the subway.
Taking Sara by the hand, he smiled pleasantly to the older woman that rang her card through the meter and thought nothing more of it.
But how can his presence still be here?
The Witchblade Sara. He's using it. You need to learn to control it..Lock him in...
How?There was a silence before her thoughts turned, and the connection broke again.
By taking control... You can.
Sara gaped in shock.
Looking back at her deeply only silence bekoned.