I DO NOT OWN WITCHBLADE, ONLY MY CHARACTERS!!!!!!!!!!

::: :: ::: : i n t r o d u c t i o n : ::: :: :::

The blade shone bright red, angry at its master's reluctance. It whispered for her to do it. It hummed in her ears, urging her on. "I'm sorry," Sara muttered. The simple bracelet transformed into an intricately designed gauntlet. "I'm so sorry Gabe," she mumbled again. A scream pierced the night air, followed by the sound of metal slicing through flesh. The wielder slid to the ground, Gabe's words spiraling through her head. "IAN!" The wielder screamed. "It's over all of it," the wielder took the short blade to her chest, and ended her life.

:: : :: c h a p t e r . .:. . o n e :: : ::

Her wet hair grazed her lower back lazily as she bent her overly tall, lithe frame over the computer, typing. Striking dark green eyes contrasted against her tea and milk colored skin on the harsh light of the desk lamp. "I've found you," she said triumphantly.

She had been after him for nearly a week - much too long for her liking. It had been going on since the 90s, when computer usage became prevalent. Cyber-homicide. A person - usually a man - would use a chat room to befriend a person - more often than not, a vulnerable young female. The perp would lull the victim into a false sense of security, all the while gaining their trust. After a while, the perp would arrange a meeting, and subsequently rape and kill the victim. It made Natalie Demino sick to her stomach to think of it. Since she was 19, and had graduated from the academy she had been on the cyber crime unit. Two years. Not exactly long enough to be considered a seasoned veteran, but long enough to be respected by her elder partner. Computers as well as the net have changed quite a bit over the years, and the unit had increased in size rapidly. Natalie's partner Katarina Devoux thought it was because a man killed her sister in a similar fashion years ago that she went after the assailants with mindless abandon.

"What's the address?" Katarina rose from her desk several feet away.

"2287 Greenbough Street in the Villa townhouses," Natalie said smugly. "You owe me ten bucks. I found him first," she said picking up her equipment.

Katarina grinned, equally smug, "Where is your proof?"

"Oh, but there is. We were by the second cubical of computers, at comp. number 4-7-0, right?" Natalie said in a mocking voice. "Look on the sound recording program. You will find your proof. As you said, 'Either 10 buckaroos or get the coffee for a week.'" Natalie laughed merrily, but stopped abruptly. "Sad it took three times before we could find him, eh?"

Katarina nodded solemnly. "You're thinking about Dez, aren't you?" Dez was Natalie's best friend, who was recently murdered by the same man about to be apprehended by the two women detectives.

"Norman Gong. What kind of fucking name is that," Natalie said bitterly. "He won't get away this time, Kat."

"Don't talk like that," Katarina nagged good-naturedly, "you've been makin' me worried since learning all those different ways to beat someone's ass."

Natalie laughed humorlessly. "It's 2010, a girls gotta protect herself."

Kat laughed again, as she finished suiting up to get her perp. "You know, this'll feel really good."

"Really, really good," Natalie said in a hard voice.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The darkness was deafening. It made Natalie want to burst out in song to evade the silence. Kat couldn't sit still, she was anticipating the confrontation about to occur.

"Do you know how much I would like to just burst in there guns blazing. Cap had the nerve to leave this all on us - women - knowing that this guy is a dedicated woman hater," Natalie said not paying attention to her words.

Kat sighed, "Come on, he'll be out in a few minutes. He's a rich bastard too. It's sad ain't it?"

Natalie nodded the affirmative. "It really is. The fucker will prob-" she was cut off by the door flying open.

A lanky bald man came down the stairs at full speed. Natalie, the more athletic of the two, followed him after recognizing his face.

Kat, not far behind, was trailing the man the came out of the door after Norman.

All through the night, their heels on the pavement broke the peaceful tranquility.

"Stop, dammit," Natalie screamed. Norman ran into a glass and metal-framed building. The new midtown museum. Natalie followed not far behind. The man headed for the newer yet to be finished exhibits, knocking the patrons leaving, down along the way. Natalie gracefully dodged the people on the marble floor. Norman suddenly pulled out an early model semi-automatic gun. Natalie followed him to a secluded area, and ducked under the tape sectioning the area off. Her footsteps echoed noisily, so she activated her shoe's cushioned soles. Instantly the room was quieted.

A bullet ricocheted off of the wall's metal frame shattering the quiet. Natalie withdrew her pistol, and aimed in the direction of the shot. A glass display caught her gaze. She walked towards it, lowering her sleek gun and causing the little light to reflect off of the glass. A bracelet occupied its black velvet setting. Not very pretty, but elegant - beautiful nonetheless. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" a voice said softly. Natalie spun around in the direction of the voice.

Another bullet rang out. It missed Natalie by inches, but slammed into the glass. It exploded, raining crystals over Natalie. She ducked exposing her thin wrists over her head. Another shot exploded the momentary silence. It ripped through the velvet, and the bracelet rose in the air, almost as if of its own accord. The bracelet transformed to gauntlet form for a split second, then launched itself at Natalie, landing on her exposed right wrist, simultaneously transforming once again into a gauntlet. A shot rang out once more, and the sound of metal on metal confused Natalie, prepared for the shot, and unable to defend herself after dropping her gun minutes before. She raised her head, and started at the sight of the gauntlet. Norman walked up to her from behind. Natalie spun around, her heavy braid flying. She instinctively raised her right hand, as Norman pulled the trigger once more. The bullet ricocheted off of the gauntlet, and into the exposed piping on the left wall. The pipe exploded, and Natalie ducked, plunging into darkness as her head hit the floor.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

"She's coming to," a warbled voice said.

"What the fuck happened," Natalie said in a raspy voice.

"There was a gas explosion. Three people were in the building. Only you survived."

"Kat! where's Katarina. Where is she," Natalie began hyperventilating.

"Katarina Devough?" Another voice said. Natalie's eyes were still blurry.

"Yes, where is she. She wasn't in the building."

"I'm sorry Detective. Your partner was shot with a high voltage tazer. She went into shock, and didn't survive."

Natalie's steadily clearing eyes began to blur again. This time with tears. "I gotta call her husband Dorian," Natalie muttered.

"Already been done," the voice said. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Natalie ," another voice, different from the other - clearer, "Natalie , the blade is yours," it whispered.

A light flashed in front of her eyes, and Natalie moaned at the brightness.

"Natalie Demino. You are the new wielder," A woman only slightly shorter than Natalie said in a throaty voice.

Natalie thought the woman to be rather pretty, "Who the hell are you?"

"Oh," the woman said, "you've a temper only rivaled by my own. Aren't I proud," she said sarcastically. "Bullshit aside. I'm the last wielder. Sarah Pezzini. Former homicide detective."

"Wielder," Natalie said flatly. "Wielder of what?"

"That bracelet on your wrist," the woman - Sarah said. "The Witchblade is its name. Oh, and before I forget, I'm not going to pull the cryptic shit on you like they did on me unless I have to. Consider yourself lucky." Sarah said wryly.

"You were a cop?" Natalie asked, "Why the hell did you get the Witchblade?"

"Yeah," Sarah said wistfully. "I got it because I was destined to," she said using air quotes. "It was in my bloodlines, as it is in yours."

"Bullshit," Natalie frowned. "How are we related? I'm black and you most certainly aren't."

"What gave it away?" Sarah said sarcastically. "Was it the chestnut colored hair? Maybe it was the distinctly pale skin."

"Again, bullshit," Natalie said with a slight smile. "How am I the wielder?" Natalie said imitating Sarah's air quotes.

"I don't know. We're distant relatives." Sarah replied in an exasperated voice. "Can I just get on with the Witchblade's story? I didn't get humored with answers to my questions, why should you?"

"Whatever, continue."

"To make a millennia long story short, our bloodline is that of a warrior. We are all descendants of past wielders. It's this whole 'history repeating itself' thing," she said using more air quotes. "The wielder - you, me - the sexy protector, the fake ass bitches formally known as pretenders, the crazy mother fuckers trying to take the gauntlet, the fallen compadré, the adoption, the abandonment, hot sex, you know the works."

Natalie snickered softly at the 'hot sex' comment. "Why?" She asked simply.

"Because since the beginning of all this shit, their has been a war between good and evil. The Witchblade is meant to balance the light and dark. Look at it this way; you get superhuman powers, and a hottie of a protector. Mine was a sexy motherlover. Whew," Sarah joked. "Seriously, it isn't all that great. You get visions that can give you migraines, and people from other realms trying to kill you. Hey," Sarah said suddenly, "can you use a sword, and a katana? You'll need to learn how."

"I lived in Japan with my mother," Natalie said laughing, "of course I know how. I took fencing lessons when I was 12 too. I can hold my own," she said in a sullen voice.

"Memories," Sarah commented in a soft voice, "they can hurt like hell. So..." Sarah trailed off, "Why are you taking this so easily?"

"Uh, because it's a dream - a figment of my imagination and its utter discontentment. I mean, seriously, Witchblade? Get real. Damn, I'm enjoying this dream. It's pretty fun, you know, the whole dream about super-humans, hotties, and motherlovers bit," Natalie said easily.

Sarah sighed, "I hope I didn't act like this," she muttered.

"I'm not going to argue with a dream-person. My computer has more imagination than this. I have games that are more interesting. I mean, if this were real, then all I've ever known would pretty much be a shit-faced lie. Who wants that, eh?"

Sarah sighed, "I see you'll have to learn the hard way. May Joan have mercy on your soul."

"I resent that," a whispering voice hissed from the shadows.

"This is too much." Natalie laughed again, then to her utter surprise the shadowy place where she had been standing faded, and the shadows replaced by white hospital walls.

The blade has chosen it's new wielder, master," a man that embodies tall, dark and handsome says.

"Good. And who is the new wielder?"

"A cyber crime detective by the name of Natalie Demino, Sir."

A humongous black chair turns with an electronic whir. A thin man with a crop of white hair is reclined in it's recesses.

"Thank you, Alexander."

"What will my job be, Mr. Irons?"

"Just watch her for now."