Danger Zone
By Divamercury
I hope you enjoy Chapter 12! Please read and review!
Chapter 12
Sound returned to me before sight. I could hear snippets of Dante's conversation with several other cops.
"Is he out?" some cop asked.
"Yeah, got knocked over the head when a bunch of crap buried him in a store downtown," Dante sneered.
"Too bad. He's still alive, isn't he?"
"Yeah. Unfortunately. He'll be useful to us later; that's the only reason that he's still breathing. The bastard killed Orlinksy."
"Damn! I never thought he'd be one to bite the bullet. This guy's lucky he's still in one piece; surprised you didn't rip him apart."
"I would have if I hadn't known he would be useful later."
My eyes opened and my vision was bleary and unfocused. I blinked several times and realized that the world had flipped upside down. Upon further study I realized that two very large and muscular cops were carrying me face up down the hall of a large building, apparently following Dante. It turned out that they were carrying me through a warehouse, and when they reached their destination they literally threw me into a chair in the center of the room and chained me to it. I didn't see any reason to cause trouble or try an escape; they were obviously going to keep me alive until it suited them otherwise. I struggled a bit against my chains but they were bolted to the floor, giving the first indication that I was conscious. Somehow I had the feeling that I wasn't the first person that had been chained to that chair.
Cowards. Won't even be in the room with me if I'm not either chained or unconscious. Pretty sad, really,' I thought as they finished fastening the fetters that encircled my wrists and ankles.
"Well, welcome back to the world of the waking, Nottingham," Dante growled at me. "Feeling okay?"
"I don't think you care whether I feel all right or not, Dante, so why don't we just skip the pleasantries and let you get to the point?" I inquired, deciding that it would be best to play a bad-ass. I played many roles during my life: the obedient servant for Irons, the knowledgeable Guardian with Sara, and now the bad-ass assassin for DanteI wouldn't give him any satisfaction.
"You're quick. Good. That'll be helpful. Now, since you're so helpful, you're going to help us with a little problem we're having."
"And why exactly would I do that?"
"Because we seem to have you at a disadvantage, Mr. Nottingham: you're chained to a chair bolted to the floor in the middle of a huge room and we're all armed."
"You won't kill me. I'm too important at this point."
"You're right. But that doesn't mean we won't shoot you somewhere non-fatal but painful as hell you if you don't cooperate. Now, Nottingham, I'm going to start by asking nicely. Where's your friend Petzini?"
"Before I answer that, Captain, I'd like to know one thing. Why is it exactly that you continually mispronounce her name when you say it on a daily basis?" I knew I was pushing the limit but I wanted to see whether or not Dante was bluffing. He got up right in my face, the aforementioned features contorted in a gruesome grimace. Good God, he needs some Certs,' I thought.
"One more time, Nottingham. Where's Petzini?" he asked, punctuating his question with a spray of spit.
I grimaced in return and said, "I have no idea, but I know that if I did have an idea of her location, you would be the last person to know of it."
He backhanded me but it didn't phase me at all. Just keep doing that, Dante. You'll get yours as soon as I get out of this damned chair.'
"I've got news for you, Nottingham. You're going to help us whether you really want to or not. Once Petzini learns we've got you, she'll come running down here in save-the-day mode and she'll arrive just in time to be able to watch you die. That's how you'll help, and I'm sure she'll get a kick out of that, seeing as how she's watched most of her friends die that way, too. Then once you're toast, we'll kill her." Dante sounded strangely chipper.
"Oh, yeah, she'll get a major kick out of that. Real hiyah." I rolled my eyes. Like Sara would really let that happen.
* * *
William and I pulled up to a nondescript warehouse on the edge of town. It had been originally built out of brick and had been covered with plaster by some moron; the plaster was flaking away to reveal the brick anyway, so it was completely pointless. It was really rundown on the outside, so much so that I was skeptical that we were even in the right place.
"Are you sure that this is it? I mean, no offense or anything, but this place looks like a dump."
"Exactly. We rely on people to perceive it as such. Come on," he said, getting out of the car. I followed suit and trailed him into the building. The initial room was tiny; a staircase going up and another going down practically filled it up.
"Which way?"
"We go down." He started down the stairs and again I brought up the rear. He was out of sight within seconds but I continued down, knowing that I was going the right direction. I heard his voice at the end of what seemed to be an endless stairwell:
"She's on her way down. Get ready."
Warily I came down to the bottom of the dark stairwell, not knowing what to expect, that emptied into a hall leading to a dimly lit room. Could I trust William? If Mac recommended him, then probably, but nothing was set in stone. As I proceeded into the room I could make out a few shapes but nothing definite. Suddenly the room was flooded with light. I squinted to try and adjust to the harsh introduction to the bright lights. The room was very modern, with many stations of computers positioned all around. Pictures of the Witchblade in many of its previous forms provided the only color in the room and were positioned all around its perimeter. And, to my surprise, about twenty people, including William, Mac, and Gabe, were standing there waiting for me.
"These are the Associates, Sara. Everyone, this is Sara Pezzini, our Wielder," Will announced. "We're glad you've come."
"Welcome to our refuge, Sara," Mac said, and as she spoke, everyone bowed.
"Whoa, seriously, you don't have to bow to me. I get that enough from Nottingham," I said, a bit embarrassed; I felt the blush creep across my cheeks and down my neck.
"Well, we were partly bowing to you, Sara, but mainly it was to Mac here," William said.
I responded by blinking several times in rapid succession. "What? Why?"
"She's the leader of the Associates."
My jaw dropped as I stared at Mac. "Seriously? Goddamn, Mac, why didn't you tell me? I was under the impression that my buddy Will here was the boss."
"That was part of the plan, although I was intending to tell you the truth sooner. However, the police interrupted us before I got a chance. As you were trying to lose Jake, I called William and told him you were coming. I trust this stodgy bloke has treated you halfway descent?"
"Yep. Perfect gentleman, Mac. So that's why you let me in, no questions asked," I said, turning to Will, now understanding.
"Yes. I wasn't sure of it, though, until you came out of the closet with the Witchblade covering your forearm. It was truly amazing; I'd never seen it up close before, only in pictures. Up until that point I was wondering if I'd have to get out a weapon to defend myself."
"I'm surprised that you didn't have a pistol in the pocket of your trousers, Will," Mac said with a grin, her accent coming across more than usual.
"Let's just hope you don't have to really see it in action, Will. Now, who are your friends?"
Mac, Will, and Gabe introduced me to several of them directly and promised that I'd meet the others later.
Michaela Kane, typically called Mikki, was a short girl of about 23 years with straight black hair that just barely touched the tops of her shoulders and deep brown eyes. Glasses with black oval frames covered her eyes and she wore a knee-length gray dress and a long white lab coat. She was very friendly and I found out later that she was the head computer technician and scientist for the group. She reminded me of Vicki, only quieter and with a somewhat less morbid profession.
On the other hand, Mikki's assistant, Hope Chandler, never stopped talking. She had curly red hair and blue eyes and tended to be on the annoying side; her saving grace was that when she really wanted to be, she was very serious and was a spectacular assistant in the lab.
The only other person I remembered from the Associates without constant reminding from Mac was a young African-American man by the name of David Branch. He was tall and muscular and was one of the Associates assigned to security duty. He radiated strength and reminded me a bit of Moby, the former Black Dragon, in appearance: same color skin tone and eyes, but with more hair. I was glad to meet him, but before I could really start an intelligent conversation with him, Will, Mac, and Gabe whisked me away to another part of the room.
"Hey, you guys, before you tell me something else that'll confuse me, it's question time," I said, making the time-out' signal.
"Shoot," Mac replied. "What do you want to know?"
"Where's Ian? Have any of you seen him lately?"
The trio exchanged dark, somewhat nervous looks.
"What?" I demanded, picking up on the negative vibe. "What aren't telling me?"
Mac decided to answer me. "Sara, we haven't heard a word from Ian for about two hours. We have no idea where he is."
