Disclaimer: Does anyone even read this part any more? Does anyone care? I sure don't. But just for sakes, I'll say it again. I don't own anything. I don't have anything copyrighted. Everything belongs to Top Cow, TNT etc...
----
"Ok, I have to go." Gabriel told Sara and Ian. "I have to fly out to San Francisco for my niece's birthday, and if I stay any longer I'm gonna miss my flight."
"Your flying all the way across the country just for your nieces birthday?" Sara asked unbelieving.
"Her parents are offering to pay for the ticket and the hotel, so I figured I could go for the birthday, and then pay for a few extra days at the hotel, enjoy the sun and the beaches."
"Have fun."
"Don't worry, I will. And I'll be back 2 days after tomorrow."
"Bye!" Sara called as Gabriel left.
"So what did you think of the creation story Amara told?" Sara asked Ian.
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. Everyone seems to know more about this thing than me."
"We need to find a way to get your memory back, and soon," Ian told her, changing the subject.
"I want my memory back too, but what's the extreme rush?"
"Remember when I told you about the man I work for, Kenneth Irons? He once tried to wear the Witchblade and well, the Witchblade doesn't allow itself to be worn by men. It scarred his hand, but it gave Irons a lifelong connection to it. He understands parts of what it thinks and knows. That means that if he doesn't know already, he will soon find out that you don't have your memory. When that happens, he'll try to take the Witchblade from you. It's his only chance because everyday the Witchblade becomes more and more a part of you. But now your vulnerable and Irons will consider it the golden opportunity to steal it away, and he may try to kill you as well." Seeing her worried face, he quickly added, "But don't worry. I'd never let that happen as long as I'm alive."
Remembering her earlier question from the stairwell, she asked him again, "Who are you to me?"
"What?"
"How do I know you? How long have we known each other? Why are you helping me?"
Ian paused. There were about a hundred ways he could answer that question. Oh well, might as well take it slow with the basics. "We actually met once as children, though you probably don't remember. You helped me on a playground." At this she smiled. "Then a few months ago, we met again through my boss, Irons. When he tells me to help you I do, when he tells me not to I do anyway.
"It's more then that though, isn't it?"
Ian nodded. "But that can come later. Right now we need you memory back."
"First step is figuring out what made me lose my memory."
"We can't go to the hospital because by now Irons is probably watching them."
"What else is there?"
"We go to the source," Ian plainly stated.
"But we don't know the source," Sara pointed out.
"I believe I do."
"You know how I got like this?!" Sara yelled.
"No, but I have an idea."
Trying to surpress her anger at him for the moment, Sara struggled to control her voice. "And what idea would that be what exactly?"
Ian sat down on Sara's couch. This might take a while, and he still wasn't sure now was the best time to tell her. There is an arms dealer named Cortese. But very few people know that he deals and sumggles guns around the world. Everyone thinks he's just a common drug dealer who's killed a few people. You first became interested in him after he killed Joe Siri, an old family friend" Ian didn't go any further into that part. If Sara knew just how much she had cared about Siri, this would quickly turn into what it was before, a revenge escapade.
"Then Cortese was suspected of killing his business partner Evenmere, who was stealing from Cortese. Yesterday you got an anonymous tip about Cortese's next meet, which was several hours later at another abandoned warehouse. You went and discovered that he was an arms dealer when you saw the trade was roughly ½ million in explosives in exchange for cash, not just drugs. Unfortunately, one of the guards saw you, but you didn't see them.
"How do you know?" Sara interrupted.
"I was there," he said in a way that sounded like should just explain it.
"Since you didn't know that you had been spotted, you went to a nightclub where Cortese often hung out. He spotted you, and I think that one of the guards or advisors slipped something in your drink."
"But that can't be the whole story," Sara pointed out. "If that was true then Cortese would have put a deadly chemical in the drink. What's the point in only erasing my memory? I would still have you, or my partner, or Gabriel or somebody else to help me figure out what happened. It makes no sense for him to wipe me of memories."
"Maybe something went wrong," Ian offered. "Maybe the chemical interacted badly with the drink you had, or the wrong chemical could have been used. It's also possible you have a friend who works with Cortese. That person might have given you the tip. Or there are other possibilities."
"You mentioned that Irons would probably steal the Witchblade from me, or even go as far as to kill to get the Blade. If he's that desperate is there a possibility that he might have been involved with all this?"
"The thought occurred to me," Ian admitted. "But, I don't see how he could've had anything to do with it."
"So you think we should go after Cortese?" Sara asked, turning the conversation back to what it had originally been.
"I do."
"One more thing Ian," Sara added, "no more secrets."
"No more secrets."
----
Kenneth Irons paced his office worridly, not knowing what to do. Sara Pezzini had been growing too close to the Witchblade lately. She was learning how to control it's powers, and was needing his help less and less. His control over her would dwindle and eventually she would have no need for him at all. That could not be allowed to happen.
And so for the last few months he had come up with a plan, relatively simple, and virtually untraceable to him. He wouldn't kill Sara, because the Witchblade wouldn't allow it. But messing with her memory so that she was defenseless, that he could pull off. What he hadn't counted on was Ian's pure devotion to her. He knew that Ian might rebel if he knew of Iron's intentions toward steeling the Witchblade from Sara. That much was apparent when he hadn't taken it from her at the Irish massacre. So Irons had devised this plan in secret and with vast caution. By the time Ian realized what was going on he would be too late. But even though he hadn't been able to save her from the chemical in her drink, he was helping her still. This, after Irons had told him specifically that his task was to take the Witchblade away from her. Ian had disobayed a direct order. For this high level of treason, no punishment other than death was acceptable. Ian Nottingham would not live to the end of the day.
But this was all secondary. Without his faithful lapdog Irons had few options for getting the Witchblade away from Sara. As time passed and as Ian helped her more and more, Iron's chances diminshed with each passing second. He had to move soon if he wished to accomplish his goal.
Since this morning his hand had been feeling odd. Then for several hours it had gone numb, like he couldn't feel it and as though it wasn't apart of his body. Obviously it was the Witchblade, confused and upset at what had been done to her wielder. Slowly the feeling was starting to come back though. Like Ian had predicted, he was having all the area hospitals and med facilities watched, as well as the apartment and the precinct.
Suddenly, an intercom buzzed and a message appeared on his view screen. It read, "Detective McCarty here." A few seconds later, the doors opened and Jake McCarty stepped into the office.
"Mr. Irons-," Jake began.
"I know why you're here Detective," Irons jumped in. "Mr. Besign has been talking hasn't he?" Needing no answer, he continued. "But you have no evidence to support what you're thinking. Cortese killed both of his associates. As a matter of fact, I'd be happy to lend my resources for you to prove it."
Despite the fact that he had not counted on such straight forwardness, Jake quickly recovered. "Listen, I have a witness that says you killed Cross, and if you did, you probably killed Evenmere too."
"Your witness is hardly credible. He's a drug addict who started working for Cortese as a guaranteed supply of his next fix."
"Cortese does deal some drugs, but it's just a cover for his arms dealing. But why do I think you already knew knew that?"
"I did. But the fact remains that Besign has no reason to tell the truth. He has family that he actually cares about, and he'll protect them, knowing that they would die if Cortese found out of his treason. He is also dedicated to Cortese out of fear for his own life. The man clearly got nervous, and pointed to the first person he saw. Someone with so many reasons to stay loyal to Cortese, you can hardly take his word in this matter."
"How do you know just what Besign said and did inside my office?"
"I have my own friends within you precinct. They owe me favors and felt compelled to tell me when someone was falsely accusing me or a murder."
Jake nodded understanding. Talking to Irons, he was now sure that Besign had been telling the truth, but as Irons pointed out, Besign wasn't a credible witness, and all evidence pointed to Cortese. There was no way anyone would believe Jake, let alone convict Irons. Before he could speak further, Irons cell phone rang.
"Yes?" he answered. After several long pauses, Irons hung up on however was on the other end with no goodbye.
"It appears Mr. Besign committed suicide this afternoon."
"Suicide?"
"Yes."
Jake turned around to leave. That interview had gotton him nowhere useful. All he knew now was that Kenneth Irons was extorting an arms dealer and that he had no proof or evidence at all. There was no way to even credibly suggest the story Besign had told. But he had to keep going with this. Besign had not committed suicide, so either Irons or Cortese or both had given him help. If that was true then his own life, and possibly Sara's were at stake as well. He had to get to her. Jake just hoped that she hadn't left for Ireland yet.
Taking out his cell phone. Jake dialed Sara's home phone again. It rang 3 times, but on the third someone finally picked up.
"Yes?"
"Sara, It's me, Jake."
"I thought I told you I needed some me-time right now."
"Sara, there have been developments with Cortese. Somehow I think he's being black-mailed by Kenneth Irons-"
"Irons?" Sara interrupted.
"Yeah."
"Listen Jake, I actually think that we need to talk. Wanna meet?"
"Definitely." From the background he could hear that Sara had set down the phone and was talking to somebody. It was a guy, and from what he could tell Guy X did clearly not approve and agreee with Sara's invite.
A few seconds later she came back on. "I'll meet you at the pool hall (I don't know it's name) in 20 minutes."
"I'll be there," Jake confirmed.
----
"Ok, I have to go." Gabriel told Sara and Ian. "I have to fly out to San Francisco for my niece's birthday, and if I stay any longer I'm gonna miss my flight."
"Your flying all the way across the country just for your nieces birthday?" Sara asked unbelieving.
"Her parents are offering to pay for the ticket and the hotel, so I figured I could go for the birthday, and then pay for a few extra days at the hotel, enjoy the sun and the beaches."
"Have fun."
"Don't worry, I will. And I'll be back 2 days after tomorrow."
"Bye!" Sara called as Gabriel left.
"So what did you think of the creation story Amara told?" Sara asked Ian.
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. Everyone seems to know more about this thing than me."
"We need to find a way to get your memory back, and soon," Ian told her, changing the subject.
"I want my memory back too, but what's the extreme rush?"
"Remember when I told you about the man I work for, Kenneth Irons? He once tried to wear the Witchblade and well, the Witchblade doesn't allow itself to be worn by men. It scarred his hand, but it gave Irons a lifelong connection to it. He understands parts of what it thinks and knows. That means that if he doesn't know already, he will soon find out that you don't have your memory. When that happens, he'll try to take the Witchblade from you. It's his only chance because everyday the Witchblade becomes more and more a part of you. But now your vulnerable and Irons will consider it the golden opportunity to steal it away, and he may try to kill you as well." Seeing her worried face, he quickly added, "But don't worry. I'd never let that happen as long as I'm alive."
Remembering her earlier question from the stairwell, she asked him again, "Who are you to me?"
"What?"
"How do I know you? How long have we known each other? Why are you helping me?"
Ian paused. There were about a hundred ways he could answer that question. Oh well, might as well take it slow with the basics. "We actually met once as children, though you probably don't remember. You helped me on a playground." At this she smiled. "Then a few months ago, we met again through my boss, Irons. When he tells me to help you I do, when he tells me not to I do anyway.
"It's more then that though, isn't it?"
Ian nodded. "But that can come later. Right now we need you memory back."
"First step is figuring out what made me lose my memory."
"We can't go to the hospital because by now Irons is probably watching them."
"What else is there?"
"We go to the source," Ian plainly stated.
"But we don't know the source," Sara pointed out.
"I believe I do."
"You know how I got like this?!" Sara yelled.
"No, but I have an idea."
Trying to surpress her anger at him for the moment, Sara struggled to control her voice. "And what idea would that be what exactly?"
Ian sat down on Sara's couch. This might take a while, and he still wasn't sure now was the best time to tell her. There is an arms dealer named Cortese. But very few people know that he deals and sumggles guns around the world. Everyone thinks he's just a common drug dealer who's killed a few people. You first became interested in him after he killed Joe Siri, an old family friend" Ian didn't go any further into that part. If Sara knew just how much she had cared about Siri, this would quickly turn into what it was before, a revenge escapade.
"Then Cortese was suspected of killing his business partner Evenmere, who was stealing from Cortese. Yesterday you got an anonymous tip about Cortese's next meet, which was several hours later at another abandoned warehouse. You went and discovered that he was an arms dealer when you saw the trade was roughly ½ million in explosives in exchange for cash, not just drugs. Unfortunately, one of the guards saw you, but you didn't see them.
"How do you know?" Sara interrupted.
"I was there," he said in a way that sounded like should just explain it.
"Since you didn't know that you had been spotted, you went to a nightclub where Cortese often hung out. He spotted you, and I think that one of the guards or advisors slipped something in your drink."
"But that can't be the whole story," Sara pointed out. "If that was true then Cortese would have put a deadly chemical in the drink. What's the point in only erasing my memory? I would still have you, or my partner, or Gabriel or somebody else to help me figure out what happened. It makes no sense for him to wipe me of memories."
"Maybe something went wrong," Ian offered. "Maybe the chemical interacted badly with the drink you had, or the wrong chemical could have been used. It's also possible you have a friend who works with Cortese. That person might have given you the tip. Or there are other possibilities."
"You mentioned that Irons would probably steal the Witchblade from me, or even go as far as to kill to get the Blade. If he's that desperate is there a possibility that he might have been involved with all this?"
"The thought occurred to me," Ian admitted. "But, I don't see how he could've had anything to do with it."
"So you think we should go after Cortese?" Sara asked, turning the conversation back to what it had originally been.
"I do."
"One more thing Ian," Sara added, "no more secrets."
"No more secrets."
----
Kenneth Irons paced his office worridly, not knowing what to do. Sara Pezzini had been growing too close to the Witchblade lately. She was learning how to control it's powers, and was needing his help less and less. His control over her would dwindle and eventually she would have no need for him at all. That could not be allowed to happen.
And so for the last few months he had come up with a plan, relatively simple, and virtually untraceable to him. He wouldn't kill Sara, because the Witchblade wouldn't allow it. But messing with her memory so that she was defenseless, that he could pull off. What he hadn't counted on was Ian's pure devotion to her. He knew that Ian might rebel if he knew of Iron's intentions toward steeling the Witchblade from Sara. That much was apparent when he hadn't taken it from her at the Irish massacre. So Irons had devised this plan in secret and with vast caution. By the time Ian realized what was going on he would be too late. But even though he hadn't been able to save her from the chemical in her drink, he was helping her still. This, after Irons had told him specifically that his task was to take the Witchblade away from her. Ian had disobayed a direct order. For this high level of treason, no punishment other than death was acceptable. Ian Nottingham would not live to the end of the day.
But this was all secondary. Without his faithful lapdog Irons had few options for getting the Witchblade away from Sara. As time passed and as Ian helped her more and more, Iron's chances diminshed with each passing second. He had to move soon if he wished to accomplish his goal.
Since this morning his hand had been feeling odd. Then for several hours it had gone numb, like he couldn't feel it and as though it wasn't apart of his body. Obviously it was the Witchblade, confused and upset at what had been done to her wielder. Slowly the feeling was starting to come back though. Like Ian had predicted, he was having all the area hospitals and med facilities watched, as well as the apartment and the precinct.
Suddenly, an intercom buzzed and a message appeared on his view screen. It read, "Detective McCarty here." A few seconds later, the doors opened and Jake McCarty stepped into the office.
"Mr. Irons-," Jake began.
"I know why you're here Detective," Irons jumped in. "Mr. Besign has been talking hasn't he?" Needing no answer, he continued. "But you have no evidence to support what you're thinking. Cortese killed both of his associates. As a matter of fact, I'd be happy to lend my resources for you to prove it."
Despite the fact that he had not counted on such straight forwardness, Jake quickly recovered. "Listen, I have a witness that says you killed Cross, and if you did, you probably killed Evenmere too."
"Your witness is hardly credible. He's a drug addict who started working for Cortese as a guaranteed supply of his next fix."
"Cortese does deal some drugs, but it's just a cover for his arms dealing. But why do I think you already knew knew that?"
"I did. But the fact remains that Besign has no reason to tell the truth. He has family that he actually cares about, and he'll protect them, knowing that they would die if Cortese found out of his treason. He is also dedicated to Cortese out of fear for his own life. The man clearly got nervous, and pointed to the first person he saw. Someone with so many reasons to stay loyal to Cortese, you can hardly take his word in this matter."
"How do you know just what Besign said and did inside my office?"
"I have my own friends within you precinct. They owe me favors and felt compelled to tell me when someone was falsely accusing me or a murder."
Jake nodded understanding. Talking to Irons, he was now sure that Besign had been telling the truth, but as Irons pointed out, Besign wasn't a credible witness, and all evidence pointed to Cortese. There was no way anyone would believe Jake, let alone convict Irons. Before he could speak further, Irons cell phone rang.
"Yes?" he answered. After several long pauses, Irons hung up on however was on the other end with no goodbye.
"It appears Mr. Besign committed suicide this afternoon."
"Suicide?"
"Yes."
Jake turned around to leave. That interview had gotton him nowhere useful. All he knew now was that Kenneth Irons was extorting an arms dealer and that he had no proof or evidence at all. There was no way to even credibly suggest the story Besign had told. But he had to keep going with this. Besign had not committed suicide, so either Irons or Cortese or both had given him help. If that was true then his own life, and possibly Sara's were at stake as well. He had to get to her. Jake just hoped that she hadn't left for Ireland yet.
Taking out his cell phone. Jake dialed Sara's home phone again. It rang 3 times, but on the third someone finally picked up.
"Yes?"
"Sara, It's me, Jake."
"I thought I told you I needed some me-time right now."
"Sara, there have been developments with Cortese. Somehow I think he's being black-mailed by Kenneth Irons-"
"Irons?" Sara interrupted.
"Yeah."
"Listen Jake, I actually think that we need to talk. Wanna meet?"
"Definitely." From the background he could hear that Sara had set down the phone and was talking to somebody. It was a guy, and from what he could tell Guy X did clearly not approve and agreee with Sara's invite.
A few seconds later she came back on. "I'll meet you at the pool hall (I don't know it's name) in 20 minutes."
"I'll be there," Jake confirmed.
