Immergence X
A stillness camped between the concrete walls. The dim lights that presented themselves became the result of the choice candle holders that circled the room. In the process, it casted shadows on the sparsely populated items present: a table, a few chairs, and counter-tops with non-perishables grazing the top.
Sara could have reasoned World War 3 started, and she was one of the privileged few to find shelter in an underground bunker. Aside from the fact she knew it hadn't come, and anything would be more satisfying then this predicament at hand. She settled her thoughts on something else even more menacing: The cold hard fact that she was trapped within, here, by her crazed protector who even slightly talked her down to thinking things were completely awry. And not only were they askew, her life was in jeopardy.
Yes, that bit worried her.
Aside from the fact he opted for candlelight, a show of electricity wasn't far reaching when he handed off a hot steaming cup of Green Tea to her. Later, he presented a choice amount of warmly toasted French bread, sliced Mozzarella and half an Avocado lightly salted.
She picked at it selectively even though the urge to shove it all in overwhelmed her. The meal had been divine even if her surroundings were not.
The whole way, Ian watched her keenly, diligently to his feet. If anything, it was good to see her taking in the meal he provided, for he remembered a time when she didn't for days on end. He quickly squashed the random memory from mind. Rather, his thoughts turned to the present. Silence permeated the air since he last vowed to explain everything. Either way, it didnt change the fact Sara was making a mental assessment of him.
She always was.
Her green eyes were speculative, crushing and devout. The saints only knew what names, insults and unfounded truths they were settling on at this moment. Candlelight made it hard to make out every detail.
She sipped her tea slowly. Not too long after her raspy-bass toned voice resounded the small interior.
"That was pleasant, Nottingham."
With a positive thought, Ian took the quaint comment with a simple bow before moving closer to her.
Much to his surprise, she did not't bolt or quake at him with fear. Instead, her eyes glowed under the lights, introspectively taking him in.
She met his gaze in resound, his Grey orbs reflecting a flame.
"But that doesn't mean your off the hook. I want answers, and not in riddles. Straight forward truth, Ian."
Without further hesitation, he took a seat right next to her motioning for her hand. With a moments hesitation, she refused. He knew she would. Without reacting to her rejection, his English dialect pierced clearly through the air.
"You would not believe anything I'd have to say." He paused.
"You never do."
His voice held Irritation's commanding call.
What a powerful statement.
What an undeniable truth she would love to counter, but couldn't.
It was as if he struck her with his words, and she couldn't't do anything but hold her pride in hand. Before the force of his phrenic blow began to sting, his voice mellowed almost soothing when he added,
"And, when it comes down to it, my dear Sara, I haven't told you anything. But what has?" He stopped pointing to her wrist.
"That has."
Without hesitation, he reached for her hand again.
For once in her life, she didn't protest. It wasn't long before his bare hands were laced through her's.
She entered a brief interregnum of thought.
Bare.
Before any other thoughts could be entertained, the Cherise stone glowed its brilliance, encompassing the room before thrusting Sara into blackness.
Blackness materialized into a scene she'd rather not experience again.
Ian lay with the astonishingly beautiful creature, the azure-eyed vixen. Between intimate thrusts rocking and shaking, she let out whimpers of pure and simply pleasure. After a time-space, the cry of his name escaped her lips as she clung to him in climax.
Sara shook off the vision violently. Why was the Witchblade so apt on repeating a showing of this in such great detail? Lovemaking is love making, she concluded. The blade didn't need to become a succubus in visions, hell she didn't need that calling from the supernatural, the real world was sufficient. Needless to say, some recess of her found it irksome to see her protector turning his attentions to another female.
She paused.
Did she just use possessive terms referring to the abashed Nottingham? A grimaced expression was in order as her uncanny thoughts focused at the severity of rationalization. She would control this thing if it was the last thing she did.
Leave this.
Now, blade.
I don't need to see this.
Stop taunting me.
You WILL listen to me...
Sara commanded for an alteration. After a few seconds, the control began to shift, and the blade obliged.
The feeling of small accomplishment crossed Sara. To win this minimal parcel of dominance was a sign of greater things to come. Maybe, just maybe, the time would arrive when the wielder will wield this strange and beautiful amulet of power.
Without letting her revel in her achievement, the blade took over once more, casting her into another vision.
In its place, a private jet came into view. There stood Nottingham, clean cut, and dressed in a suit boarding with a few other men. The plane started its ascension into the skies, and as the union jack waved in the wind not too far from the tarmac. Small conversation ensued between the men before they landed. "Ian. Ian Nottingham. It is so good to have you here! You were recommended to me in the highest degree. I must express your grasp of the Japanese language is impeccable!" "I am glad to become of service to your family, Ishigamia Takata-San." As he did, another man from the group came to the fore, the only one dressed in a hakama. Ian dully noted a sensei when he saw one. And as Ian would have it, he was nothing but correct. The files he reviewed back at home called him Oko Tadashi, the loyal spiritual guru and adviser to the Takata family. His fame as a grandmaster in Aikido, Kendo, Jujutsu, and other various forms of self-defense was hard to miss. He lifted an eyebrow examining Nottingham closely. "Your form is well." He paused, taking an introspective glance once again. If eyes could burn and dig holes into one being, Tadashi was the one to do it. Ian bowed again, solitary and humbly toward him. Seemingly satisfied with Ian's portrayal of honesty, he stepped into the background once again. The blade flashed in a rapid succession; images of Ian gaining the trust of the family, a driver in the least, to bodyguard in the modest. He trained extensively with Tadashi to become his prized student. Tadashi then presented a Katana to Nottingham. The same sword, Sara noted that she observed on his wall the night before. He took it within his hands, as it became his most prized possession. Ian lingered even though he was forced to cut their lives short, after the wake, and to the family grave. As he board the jet, he was met with a fellow British man. He could tell Ian sulked, although he tried hard to hide it. "Hell of a job, Nottingham. Her majesty's service has infiltrated the most rising influential criminal ring on the Asian Seaport. It wont be long before we can start breaking up other crime families to get a handle over this thing." "Anything for Queen and country." "Criminals under the light, who shine as the light. Its all the same when it comes down to it, no matter the Methods, John." With that, the plane took off.
Within the realm of the Witchblade, time is but pliable, impressionable. Or so it must seem.
What greeted him as he left the privatized airport was a jungle of skyscrapers in a buzzing metropolis.
The signs aligned themselves in delicate Kanji, combing the streets in neon lights and bustling automobiles.
Ian was met with four gentlemen dressed in a wealth of only how much yen, Sara knew not.
A greeting in Japanese was rendered until finally the conversation turned over to English.
Or did it? Sarah could still hear the original language, yet, she was understanding all that was said.
One of the older men in the group who looked to be of much import over the others spoke first.
Ian bowed humbly.
"I hope your spirit is too."
"I would consider it an honour for you to help me in all aspects, Sensei.'
He worshiped devoutly at the temple.
His soul seemed complete, whole and well meaning until he was promoted to Assassin within the family.
Sara witnessed him take out adversaries of the Takata Empire, namely distinctly tattooed Yakuza Members under the most violent banners. Controlling the Red Light Districts, Opium Trade, and Slave Labour.
In the shadows, the blade also revealed something quite different, the show of his dual sided nature.
The family was slowly being infiltrated, betrayed...
Tadashi was the first to notice, and the last to speak.
As all his training and methods were pitted against him, Ian cut his life short.
Not too long after, Tadashi was dealt with.
He sated two hits put on him before finally pressing his way back to the land of his birth.
It had been three long years, and this place held too many memories of the person he came to be, while still realizing who he was.
It was this time, the blade let Sara feel all of his emptiness, at the complete notion of his morals dissension, and a raw aggressive Nottingham coming to the fore.
Ian remained short.
He sarcastically tossed over his shoulder.
The blade swirled, bringing Sara back to the present.
She wasn't sure how to take to what she just witnessed, but it seemed to explain a little more about this enigma that cradled her hand with most tender feeling.
Between the casting shadows, Ian's head was bowed, a few strands falling over his face, his eyes closed.
He seemed to be caught in the moment . Gone was his ever guarding, suspecting demeanor.
Sara used the opportunity to view his hands.
His bare hands laced between her's.
At this moment she wondered why she did not tear away to end the serenade of Nottingham's life-history. It was almost as if the blade was conforming and trying to change her outlook on the weary misplaced knight. Almost as if it was humanizing him.
It would take more then a few visions to do that.
Either way, fighting the blade wasn't something she was apt on doing, so she closed her eyes as it took her through a vision and another for-gleam into his past.
The towering silhouette of Parliament caped the skyline. Ian had made it back to his motherland, combing the busy London Streets. A swarthy man dressed down to fit the winter called out to the moving public.
"Newspaper, fifty pence!" Ian immerged in front of the man, and took out some loose change from his pocket, granting the payment. He took the paper. The date read; March 4Th, 1993. Thumbing through it and finding nothing of interest, he tossed it back into the pile of the others. The Indian man paused rendering the long haired gentleman a quixotic look. "Take it, it is yours!" Nottingham pulled away a few strands whipping in his face and tucked them behind his ear.
"Keep it, and Keep it."
With that, he brought his hands into his trench-coat, and disappeared into the nearby tube entrance.Big Ben chimed the 12Th hour, its sound reverbing under the tunnels that make up the underground Subway system. Her Black hair was a flood around her features cascading on the knit scarf that wrapped around three times over. Her Blazer matched her velvet skirt, clinging like a second skin. Her eyes were downcast until they rested solely on a mesmerized Nottingham. Her gaze tore through space and time, seizing him all too late before he had the chance to turn away. In a moment of panic, he fled behind the crowds, trying to loose her advancements. He could feel her getting closer and closer, but between the mingling people, become a distant shadow. The train noisily came in as a recorded announcement came over the PA system. Ian stepped into the farthest cargo seconds before it closed, regrouping behind different ones. As it started to speed away, he could see a distressed Victoria searching in vein without a second thought to where he had gone. And it was best to stay that way, he thought. He doesn't need another person being killed among his the fray he called his life. Especially not now, or on this day. As he exited the tube from Westminster, he was met with a black sedan parked on the curb. "Good morning, Mr. Nottingham. Hope you passed it well." Ian nodded. "Your record of taking down the highly dangerous Takata organization has caught the attention of important superiors, Mr. Nottingham. We are glad you have accepted the offer to work among other individuals of International Intelligence. I am sure you are a bit anxious to start your new training as a Black Dragon." "I must say my three month holiday has been less then eventful. My mind and body are ready for a new mission, Mr. Adair." The man grinned, it was passed off as a smile. "Good man." There was a pause as the car came to stop. "Look our destination has arrived." The blade flashed, showing the strip of ivory white cliffs that lined the seaport of Dover into a secret facility that traveled under the rocks. The bustle of workers, scientists, geneticists, and military personnel penetrated the inside. Ian then was met with what would be his new comrades: Built and focused men from different parts of the globe, making up twelve in all with his addition. Superiors from the United States, Russian Federation, United Kingdom, Germany, South Africa, South Korea, Canada, and Japan all toured the facility that would serve to be the place they train and undergo numerous Psychotropic Experiments for the sake of security. One of the twelve, who was said to have an IQ nearing two-hundred caught the attention of Ian in paticular. He had crossed his path before, but briefly. Hector Mobious was a tall broad armed man of African ancestry who's eyes remained focused on everything around him. He worked for MI5, Defense Intelligence, creating and engineering biological weapons for the country. "Welcome to Invicta, gentlemen." It didnt take long before another succession of colours, spirals, and mazes swept through her mind. The blade then faded to Darkness. Sara found herself walking amongst the shadows dressed down in black, even up to the mask that she wore around her face. Trying to pull it off, she found she couldn't due to the fact a snipers riffle was being held with it. As it stood, she couldn't make any movement free to be called her own. She was under the control not of herself, but someone else. Soon the blade materialized a different view point, of the one who held the memory. Nottingham stood on a rooftop, positioning his riffle at a man that moved slowly from the building to a black automobile. Radio link between the rest of the Black Dragons were passed. "Nottingham here. Keep your eyes ready, Sara felt the scope focus as Nottingham viewed the movement from below. The first mission of the Black Dragons was into the newly formed Chechen Republic. It declared Independence from the recently Defunct USSR two years prior. When the country became split, the newly elected President, Dzhokhar Dudayev, took up sides to ensure all Russian Forces would be abolished from the country. But that would prove disastrous to the Russian Federation, who slowly started its descent into making allies in the west. Soon they appealed for something to be done. "Mobious in. Got a picture of Parseagen's bodyguard, no book on Dudayev." Sara paused. That name sounded so bloody familiar, but she couldn't place where from. Without much warning, the man she viewed through the scope slowly retreated back into the building. Sensing something was awry, Ian pulled back. Mobious confirmed his fears. "Benjamin Wolf has pulled back. Take your positions for possible ambush." The air was seconds still before a burst of gunfire. Robbed men in white came forward, spewing out battle calls in Arabic and Chechen dialects.
Crowds dispersed in and out between the shadows and fluorescent lights, and that's when she came into view.
Pulling his hood high onto his head, he glanced without much restraint.
Without much hesitation, he shook the middle aged man's hand and took the backseat.
It rode south from the city, and onto the spacious countryside roads.
After a while, Signs for Dover-White Cliffs neared.
In the process the two men passed conversation.
He asked questions to the lead Geneticist, a stern looking man in a lab coat.
Realistic war training, sweat dripping, intake of numerous drugs, machines and chords.
Intel being gathered...
Emotional charged video training, barbaric actions, syringes inserting into the skin, screams of pain, of destruction, a total depletion of feeling.
Intel being gathered...
She paused, feeling everything he was feeling, everything he was thinking.
From probing his thoughts, she understood the situation.
Dudayev was a rogue political figure in the eye of the Russians, using the Chechen Muslims as Gorillas to declare a Jihad, which killed many innocents in the process. Their appeal turned up the International reconnaissance of the the Black Dragons.
An Assassination was on the horizon.
The blade did a fast-forward, showing spills of blood between the mountainous region before fading to black once again.
She had seen enough of Ian's past to be set on never watching another James Bond movie for as long as she lived.
But it still remained he held her hand, tenderly. The difference settled that his eyes were open, wide and focused on her.
It seemed like they had been for a long time.
She wanted to remove herself from this very place, to take back everything about this man. What a cold, sad, confused and dangerous life. If nothing else, she was understanding as to why he was always on constant alert. She took into account everything she now knew, and everything she didn't but it was no cause for wonderment. The list is long and spacious of those who might want to kill the man known as Ian Nottingham.
As her thoughts took off once more, his attention toward the door that led in from the hallway sparked.
Sara turned, speculative as well.
Just as if right on cue, he bolted to his feet, pulling his sword from his side.
Sara's stone began to glow vividly, lighting the entire room.
As she struggled to control it, the door swung open, blinding the assailant.
Voices took over Sara.
You Know Who, Sara.
You Know Who!
You Know, Sara.
You Know Who!!!!
Between the brilliance of light, gunshots were fired.
Take him Down.
Take him down...