"Nathaniel Brookes. 35 years old, he was a stockbroker down at the new street they setup a few years back. His wife died in a car accident and left his six-year-old daughter an orphan. She was taken in by her uncle. Brookes was last seen going out for his lunch break when it was reported that he never returned to work. Some passerby saw him lying in an alleyway bleeding out from a slit throat. No one saw the murderer."

In the morgue of the GCPD, Lieutenant James Gordon and the Dark Knight himself stood over the body of a middle-aged man. Batman examined the body, running his fingers over the wound.

"The impression was deep... a United Cutlery Honshu Karambit – an assassin's weapon."

"How do you know?"

Batman placed his fingers at the base of the cut. "The hole here is a puncture wound but then, the wound shifts across into the slash. The shallowness of the cut shows that the blade itself was curved and the deepness of it shows the attacker wanted to make it quick."

"Brookes didn't have any enemies, not that any of his family or friends knew. Brookes was a family man and never really kept secrets. However, it seems more than that as the attack was specifically targeted at him, perhaps for his past connections. He was a member of the Coin Society and worked under the main brass in Chicago."

"The Coin Society... A group of several of Chicago's richest coming together to rule both the city and its underworld. It was disbanded in 1983 and split off into several splinter groups."

"Those groups have been getting hit since the mid-80s and have now been rumored to dabble in some freaky stuff. Like magic or something."

Batman pursed his lips upon the mention of magic and his face become noticeably tighter.

"What's wrong?" asked Gordon. "Are you not into that kind of thing? Figured you would... explain how you disappear from the room without someone noticing you every damn time..."

"No... I just don't do magic."

"Well, what's the problem?" Gordon shrugged. "It's just cheap parlor tricks anyway. There's no such thing as magic, right?"

"It's real. Very real. And very dangerous. I'll take this case from here."

"Be my guest." Gordon lit up a cigar, knowing Batman had already disappeared from the room.

"The Coin Society, sir? What a dreadful name. Dare I say, it's name sounds like something from a comic book." Alfred stood beside Bruce at the Bat-computer, staring at the screen which provided information on this criminal society.

"Their influence is nonetheless very real. It's been plaguing Chicago for years. Cops have only broken up one splinter gang but the others have been eluding them." Bruce typed a few commands, the information switching to known members of the gang. "Carlo 'Hound' Johnson; one of the leaders. He operated here in Gotham for a few months, trying to nationally spread his gang's ideology: greed and violence."

"If I remember correctly, you caught him and he was sentenced to 10 years in prison."

"He was. He's getting transferred to a prison back home. Chicago is quite nice this time of year, isn't it, Alfred?"

"Why, yes, Master Bruce. I had even heard from Mr. Fox that a subdivision of the company could use some, how did he put it, 'Checking up on from the big man.'"

"Good. Prepare a plane, Alfred."

"At once, sir."

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The accursed sound of the offending alarm clock was thrown into a wall. Unfortunately, it hit the wall on its corners and therefore did not shut off. The woman in bed groaned loudly, before getting up from her comfortable bed.

"Alright, alright... I'm up already..." She pulled the plug on the clock before stumbling for the bathroom. Facing the mirror, she saw the reflection of herself. She was a mess, with her hair all messy and her eyes riddle with crust.

"Real hot, Sara."

Sara Pezzini, detective at the Chicago Police Department, prepared for work. She had been on the force for a while now, gaining experience and reputation for being fiery. Also, she was the wielder of the legendary Witchblade, a gauntlet of incredible power. Right now, it was dormant and it made the shape of a watch on her wrist.

After a shower and some makeup, she was as good as new, coming down from her apartment in Chicago in style. She grabbed a taxi and gave directions for the station. Coming out the car, she ran up the steps and stepped inside to see officers rushing in and out. The chief was there issuing orders, almost as if they were at war.

"Hey, chief," Sara greeted. "What's going on?"

"Sara, thank God, you're here. I've got a damn crisis on my hands. The mayor's been shot."

"What?! Who the hell-"

"Don't know, but I've got officers scrambling all over the city to find out. You're on the case. Take Jake with you."

"Got it, chief. Jake!"

A tall, handsome blonde man stood up from his desk, dumbfounded and lost. "Yeah?"

Sara strode past him, uncaring. "Get your ass in gear and let's go."

"R-right!"

Sara and Jake drove through Chicago, passing by the ludicrous traffic and the stupid student drivers until they came downtown – a crowded place. People bustled about as Sara got nearer to the prestigious hotel in which the mayor of Chicago was reported to have been shot.

"Holy hell, Sara, who shot the mayor?"

"That's what I'm 'bout to find out," said she determinedly. She parked the car and got out, walking straight up to the rows of policeman that kept the concerned public and the overbearing news crew out. She flashed her badge to a cop before ducking under the tape and proceeding inside.

Sara skipped the elevator and instead hopped onto the stairs, ascending to the designated floor speedily, her blonde bumbling sidekick bouncing behind her. Sara, now on the top floor, pushed the door open and was instantly greeted to the rushing coordination of policemen and FBI agents roaming up and down the halls. Sara sighed and readied herself before stepping out of the doorway to the stairs, turning down the busy hall and coming upon the hotel that was guarded by a policeman. They nodded to each other before she entered.

Sara instantly caught sight of an undisturbed room with a blood-soaked bedspread in the center of the mattress and FBI investigators around it. One of the investigators, a short woman with hazel brown hair tied into a ponytail and glasses on her face, glanced up upon the entrance of Sara and her partner.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded she.

Sara, with equal sass, flashed her badge at the investigator. "CCPD. Where's the mayor?"

"The hospital. Look, we don't need the cops interfering with this investigation. Get lost, we got this."

"No can do. Our jurisdiction, our case, our problem."

The two held a standoff-ish glare before a fellow FBI agent came beside the woman and whispered something in her ear. The woman sighed in annoyance before giving Sara a nasty look and disappearing.

"Bitch…" Sara whispered to herself.

Once the FBI had left, Jake sighed a breath of relief while Sara turned her attention to the murder itself. Her eyes centered on a coin that stuck out from the wall.

"The hell…?" With a glove on, she reached and pulled it out, examining it. The coin was inscribed with the Latin term societas.

"'Society.'"

CLICK!

Jake and Sara pointed their guns around the room but saw no one. "I can read…" Sara whispered, gritting her teeth and looking around cautiously. "Who and where are you?"

"The assassins behind this are called the Coin Society."

"Are you who I think you are…?"

"And you're who I know you are. It's the only reason I've decided to speak to you."

"Jake…" said Sara, holstering her weapon. "Leave the room. Now."

"What?! Sara, I'm not-"

"NOW!"

Jake stopped stiff, taking another nervous glance around the room before turning to leave. "I'll be right outside… okay?"

Without another word exchanged Jake exited the room, closing the door behind him. When Jake disappeared, a dark figure appeared behind Sara.

"Who are you?" asked she again without turning.

"A visitor. I have a case from another city that involves this."

"You said something about a society."

"The Coin Society."

Sara eyes widened. "The Coin?! Those guys are small-time crooks; they couldn't be capable of this!"

"Agreed. I don't think this is one of the splinter groups. I think this is someone from the original splinter group and I think that magic is involved."

Sara smirked, glancing down at the "watch" on her wrist. "So, that's why you approached me… You need my help, the help of someone with magic on them."

Batman tossed a vial to on the bed, Sara reaching out and taking it. "The mayor wasn't shot. He was poisoned. The bullet was a parlor trick. He has no exit wound, yet the doctors couldn't find the bullet."

"Ah…" Sara gritted her teeth in pain as her wristwatch began to glow and burn her painfully.

"Evil… evil…!"

"And I'm guessing that poison wasn't from a venom, going by you."

"I don't think so…"

"I'm going to start by locating one of the splinter groups. It's possible that this assassin has been in contact with them."

"You're thinking this old guy is having the assassin kill them?"

"Maybe or a certain splinter group prisoner is doing something from Chicago Penitentiary. Nothing's for certain when it comes to magic," said Batman, a bitter tone coating his voice. "I'm going to investigate the original hideout to see if there're any clues. Meet me there and lose the dead weight."

"Sara," -Jake opened the door- "what's taking so long?"

"Jake!" Sara exclaimed, spinning around but saw no one but him behind her. "Oh… um, listen, I've got something I need to investigate – a lead. I need you to… uh… take statements from the witnesses. Yeah, do that."

"But Sara, wait!"

Sara stopped in the hallway, turning around. "What?"

"Was that… him?"

Sara shook her head. "No, just a stupid kid playing a prank. Now, get to work!"

Sara exited the hotel via the elevator, coming down in the lobby. What she was bombarded with was a slew of news reporters and cameras pushing her for a press statement.

"Excuse me. Important police work to do. Out of the way. Thank you, please move. Oof!"

Just as she neared the door, Sara bumped into something hard.

"Ow…" said she, rubbing her face. "Stupid hotel sculptures…"

"Well, that's pretty rude," said a soothing, deep voice. Sara's eyes opened and they caught sight of an insanely handsome man with chiseled cheekbones, ocean blue eyes, slicked back black hair with several strands hanging in front of his face, and a massive body. "But, since I wasn't looking where I was going, I do humbly apologize."

Sara shook her head, snapping herself out of her trance. "Yeah, don't worry about it. Excuse me."

The man looked over his shoulder and watched as she went off outside. His smile disappeared and a serious look took its place. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

'Sir?'

"I've made contact, Alfred. I've set a tracking device; I've got to be somewhere but I want you to keep track of her and monitor her, understand?"

'Very good, sir. I have been keeping watch of the news as well. I do hope you can solve this murder before any more political officals' lives are put in danger.'

"I will. I swear it!"

A.N.: Another quick one for you guys. It should be noted that while I'm generally knowledgeable about Witchblade-lore (read a bit of the comics), I'm not a scholar on the character or anything so just a forewarning. Also, sorry if there's any mistakes grammar wise. I'm pretty worn out so I only had time to check it over once. Anyway, let me know what you think of this story and pairing and until next chapter, people.

Green out.