Disclaimer: The Witchblade Movie, Series, Comics, and characters belong to Top Cow Productions. I own nothing but the idea here.
Hey, guys! Here's a fic for all those who wanted to hear from me another time around. ...And for those who noticed, yes, I stole the title from a Beethoven movie - the musician, not the dog. ^_^ Thanks to those who reviewed my previous work and a special shout out to Spin for the suggestion sent over. I didn't use it, but I hope you aren't disappointed with this new fic. ...Oh and this won't get romantic unless you guys say so...or my muse wanders that way. ^_^
Immortal Beloved
Prologue
The sun sneaked in to cast shadows all about the room as it started its descent outside. The dark-haired man raked his hair with a shaky hand and muttered a curse. Pushing up his glasses, he shut the blinds and started his work with steadied hands. Minutes later, he set the first shot in the pan of solution and held his breath as the picture slowly showed up. He traced a finger along the cheek of the smiling girl. After a moment of silent study, he shook his head as if to clear it and stepped out of his make-shift dark room.
An entire section of the annexed room was papered with a collection of prints. All had images of girls with shared features. There were faded black-and-whites, yellowed sepias, and crisp coloreds all in precise chronological order. None were framed. Only one had that honor. It sat on a table, an ornate frame with a black-and-white of a young woman. The man neared the photo and compared it to the one he held. Lips pursed in contemplation, he shook his head once more.
Close...yet, not. But, this one would do for the while. He was so close now. He could sense her nearness. She was in this place, this city of sin, and he would find her. He had waited years, but he could wait some more. Patience was a lesson well-known to him. Besides, time was of little importance to him. What mattered was that he not lose her a second time. Once he found her, they would be together again...and he would deal with her abductor.
But, now a woman awaited a visit from him.
He smiled at the thought as he settled his coat about him. After a last look at the picture, he tucked it in his front pocket and set out. He walked a few blocks then rode a bus for a few more. He stepped out and walked back some before he stopped at an apartment house. When he'd found her name, he pressed the button beside it. At the beep of the intercom, a breathless voice answered.
"Yes?"
"It's me. I have your pictures."
"Oh...they're already ready?"
"Yes. I was around the area and thought I'd drop them off."
"That's nice of you, but I'm really busy at the moment..."
"I see... I'd place them with the mail, but some shots..."
"Hn... This won't take long, right?"
"No. Not at all."
"Alright then."
The door sounded and he turned the knob to step in. He went up to her floor and knocked at her door. He entered at her shouted assent. The door was unlocked. He locked it after himself and followed the sound of her voice to a small study. She was on the phone. An apologetic grin was flashed at him, then she turned away to continue her conversation. As she talked, he looked around. Wide windows, but blinds were drawn... No pets... Ah, a handy diary in clear view... An appointment in a few minutes... Hm... 'Meet up at movies'... Yes.
A soft rap on the walls. Solid.
The phone was set down. The screams started seconds later. No one would hear them.
The walls were thick enough.
The next day, he passed by her place. The cops were already there. He wasn't worried. He knew he hadn't left anything they could use to find him. He'd had practice and he'd learned from past mistakes. Others had paid for them at times. The police called them 'copycat crimes'. They never knew there was only one hand behind it all. Well, let them fall all over themselves with this new development. Their predecessors hadn't been able to protect -her-. Why should he care if they spent sleepless nights over this case? From past experience, those who never found a good scapegoat would bury the case sooner or later. They didn't really care about those who died or those who were left behind.
He watched as they went about their work. The body bag was brought out. Before it could be slid into the coroner's van, a voice called out to stop the men with the stretcher. Seconds later, the voice's owner stepped up to them with a blonde man behind her. As she zipped opened the body bag, the man spoke to her. He seemed to be concerned about something as he gestured at the corpse. When she moved and he saw her face, their watcher understood why. He hissed sharply as he studied her familiar features.
It was her.
Then, he shook his head as he shakily exhaled. Of course not. It was impossible. This wasn't her.
He glanced up again to scrutinize the woman. He smiled. No. She wasn't the one. But, she would do for the while. He raised his camera up and snapped a shot.
Click.
Hey, guys! Here's a fic for all those who wanted to hear from me another time around. ...And for those who noticed, yes, I stole the title from a Beethoven movie - the musician, not the dog. ^_^ Thanks to those who reviewed my previous work and a special shout out to Spin for the suggestion sent over. I didn't use it, but I hope you aren't disappointed with this new fic. ...Oh and this won't get romantic unless you guys say so...or my muse wanders that way. ^_^
Immortal Beloved
Prologue
The sun sneaked in to cast shadows all about the room as it started its descent outside. The dark-haired man raked his hair with a shaky hand and muttered a curse. Pushing up his glasses, he shut the blinds and started his work with steadied hands. Minutes later, he set the first shot in the pan of solution and held his breath as the picture slowly showed up. He traced a finger along the cheek of the smiling girl. After a moment of silent study, he shook his head as if to clear it and stepped out of his make-shift dark room.
An entire section of the annexed room was papered with a collection of prints. All had images of girls with shared features. There were faded black-and-whites, yellowed sepias, and crisp coloreds all in precise chronological order. None were framed. Only one had that honor. It sat on a table, an ornate frame with a black-and-white of a young woman. The man neared the photo and compared it to the one he held. Lips pursed in contemplation, he shook his head once more.
Close...yet, not. But, this one would do for the while. He was so close now. He could sense her nearness. She was in this place, this city of sin, and he would find her. He had waited years, but he could wait some more. Patience was a lesson well-known to him. Besides, time was of little importance to him. What mattered was that he not lose her a second time. Once he found her, they would be together again...and he would deal with her abductor.
But, now a woman awaited a visit from him.
He smiled at the thought as he settled his coat about him. After a last look at the picture, he tucked it in his front pocket and set out. He walked a few blocks then rode a bus for a few more. He stepped out and walked back some before he stopped at an apartment house. When he'd found her name, he pressed the button beside it. At the beep of the intercom, a breathless voice answered.
"Yes?"
"It's me. I have your pictures."
"Oh...they're already ready?"
"Yes. I was around the area and thought I'd drop them off."
"That's nice of you, but I'm really busy at the moment..."
"I see... I'd place them with the mail, but some shots..."
"Hn... This won't take long, right?"
"No. Not at all."
"Alright then."
The door sounded and he turned the knob to step in. He went up to her floor and knocked at her door. He entered at her shouted assent. The door was unlocked. He locked it after himself and followed the sound of her voice to a small study. She was on the phone. An apologetic grin was flashed at him, then she turned away to continue her conversation. As she talked, he looked around. Wide windows, but blinds were drawn... No pets... Ah, a handy diary in clear view... An appointment in a few minutes... Hm... 'Meet up at movies'... Yes.
A soft rap on the walls. Solid.
The phone was set down. The screams started seconds later. No one would hear them.
The walls were thick enough.
The next day, he passed by her place. The cops were already there. He wasn't worried. He knew he hadn't left anything they could use to find him. He'd had practice and he'd learned from past mistakes. Others had paid for them at times. The police called them 'copycat crimes'. They never knew there was only one hand behind it all. Well, let them fall all over themselves with this new development. Their predecessors hadn't been able to protect -her-. Why should he care if they spent sleepless nights over this case? From past experience, those who never found a good scapegoat would bury the case sooner or later. They didn't really care about those who died or those who were left behind.
He watched as they went about their work. The body bag was brought out. Before it could be slid into the coroner's van, a voice called out to stop the men with the stretcher. Seconds later, the voice's owner stepped up to them with a blonde man behind her. As she zipped opened the body bag, the man spoke to her. He seemed to be concerned about something as he gestured at the corpse. When she moved and he saw her face, their watcher understood why. He hissed sharply as he studied her familiar features.
It was her.
Then, he shook his head as he shakily exhaled. Of course not. It was impossible. This wasn't her.
He glanced up again to scrutinize the woman. He smiled. No. She wasn't the one. But, she would do for the while. He raised his camera up and snapped a shot.
Click.