Danger Zone
By Divamercury
Standard disclaimer applies. I'm just a poor high school student! So keep in mind that if you sue me, believe me, you won't get much. On with the story! And don't forget to review, or I might not upload for a while!
Chapter 1
Kenneth Irons, my employer, had gone too far this time, even for him. After finally having been assured that I could not follow his orders and kill Sara Pezzini, the woman for whom I existed to protect, he hired a group of bloodthirsty mercenaries collectively called the Speakers. This must have been used in an ironic fashion, because they were reported to never have spoken, and many of their targets never did again after they were through with them. It was unknown how many of them there were and where they hailed from, similar to the White Bulls who had also been after Sara at one time. The Speakers were to swoop down on Sara's apartment in the dead of night, capture her, and following this I knew no more of the plan except that Sara would most assuredly be dead by daybreak if some intervention was not made. Perhaps Irons would have them kill her, or maybe he would have them deliver her to him and kill her himself, removing the Witchblade from her cold, pulse-devoid wrist. Whatever his devious plan was, I vowed to myself to foil it. Sara was far too important to lose. If there were any possible way in heaven or hell that I could save her, I would do so.
I left Vorschlag soon after I overheard the phone call to the leader of the Speakers. I only hoped that I had found out soon enough. The black Mercedes that I drove around the city doing Irons's bidding was parked out in the front of the building, and I got inside and drove at almost breakneck speed to Sara's apartment. I was unsure of how much time I had and of how much time it would take to convince Sara that she was in grave dangerliterally.
Upon arrival, I pulled into the alley beside Sara's building and I parked the car. I climbed the fire escape to reach her window, as I often did. When I reached the window, I tested it to see if it was unlocked and to my good fortune it was. I opened it, slipped inside, and shut it, making my way carefully through the pitch-dark apartment to Sara's bed. She was sound asleep on it, and I hated to wake her, but I knew that if I didn't, she would be sleeping permanently in a place much less comfortable than she was currently in. I slowly reached toward her and found her shoulder, shaking it gently. "Sara? Sara? I need you to wake up."
Sara opened one eye, looked at me, then opened the other and pushed herself up to a sitting position with her hands.
"Good evening, Ian. To what do I owe this interruption of my repose?" she asked half groggily and half angrily.
"We have no time for pleasantries, Sara. You must come with me immediately."
"Wha?" she asked, clearly confused. I slowed down.
"Irons has sent the Speakers after you. They're on the way right now and I don't know how much time we have until they arrive."
Sara stiffened. Clearly I had caught her attention.
"The Speakers? Spectacular. First the White Bulls, now the Speakers. How did you know about this, Ian?" she asked.
"Like I said before, Irons sent them after you. He knows that I will refuse to kill you for him, so he hired them to get the job done."
"Why are you telling me this? Why aren't you helping them?" she asked, and then she drew back, as far away from me as she could get. "What if you actually are? What if they sent you here to lure me out in the open and then BANG! Sara all over the pavement?" she asked nervously.
"Sara," I said, exasperated. "I though you knew me better than that. I will never do anything to hurt you in any way."
Sara considered this, verifying it in her mind, and then she nodded. "Do I have time to pack a few things?"
"I would say yes, but do it fast."
That was all Sara needed to hear. She stuffed some clothing and toiletries into a bag, then opened a large armoire in one of the corners of the room, a piece of furniture that I had never seen before. She flung open the doors and, grabbing a separate bag, cleaned it out. My eyes widened. It was full of guns and ammunition of all types: several rifles, a few shotguns, but primarily handguns. She kept a few out of the bag, along with some holsters, and then she grabbed a separate set of clothes. Apparently not caring if I was looking or not (I averted my eyes when I realized what she was about to do) changed into them in the dark and stuffed the pajamas that she had been wearing previously into the clothing bag. She strapped the guns she had left out in various places on her person: the left thigh, the right hip, and under her left arm. As an afterthought she snatched her badge and dropped it into the bag with the guns, then zipped the bags closed, threw on her trusty leather jacket, and turned to me.
"Okay, done," she said. "Let's go."
The two of us climbed out of the window and onto the fire escape. I went down first, and Sara threw her bags down to me. I put the one with clothing inside in the trunk, put the one with the guns in the front passenger's side floorboard, and watched her hurry down the ladder. She jumped into the passenger's seat, I got into the driver's seat, we slammed the doors in unison, and then we were off.
"I think we made it just in time," Sara remarked as we sped away. "While I was climbing out the window I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. I just hope they don't trash my apartment.
That was Sara, always thinking about the least important things at the most perilous of times. I smiled and kept my eyes on the road.
