Cappuccino?

Completed 10/3/02

*Disclaimer As much as I would love to, I do not own Witchblade or the characters used in this story. This is written strictly for pleasure and the characters were used without the creators knowledge or consent....


He ran, pushing his body to the limit. The intake of air stung his straining lungs, his aching muscles cried for him to stop. Only when he couldn't stand it any longer did he slow to a jog, forcing his breathing to slow, forcing his body to calm. If Irons knew he was out he'd be punished. Ian snorted softly, Iron's always knew...

After his body had regained normal parameters he slowed to a walk, looking at his surroundings. It was late, or early morning, which phrase to use, he was not sure. He sighed when Iron's voice came to mind, 'If the hour is past midnight, young Nottingham, it is morning, dispite it still being dark out. The Romans designed the system, never forget how it works...' With a slight frown he pushed a lock of dark unruly hair from his forehead and behind an ear, "Fine, it is early morning..." His voice was low and Ian blinked at the amount of bitterness that was conveyed.

The night air hung cold in the sky, but even at this ungodly an hour cars could still be heard in the distance. He was at one of his favorite spots. A little wooded area owned by the local high school. Ian came here when he wanted to forget, or when he wanted to think. A small bridge spanned the expanse of the creek that ran through out the property. Water, cold unfeeling water always soothed him. The sounds of it churning and lapping at the banks edge. With a single leap he lighted the rail of the bridge, balancing perfectly as he walked along it, staring down into the moving water.

"I am well aware of the fact that young Nottingham is missing, Prat. And if you were half the security guard that you boast to be, you would have known an hour ago he slipped out of his bedroom window, negotiated the north wing roof and scaled the stone wall." Irons shut his book and held it up in the air for emphasis, "...And effortlessly bypassed your 'security' network, I might add..." Irons stood with his back to his employee. Fire light played off the walls and Prat jumped when sap snapped and hissed loudly. "Oh, don't worry about Ian, by any means, he's more qualified then you are to look out for this entire manor, but thank you for letting me know my young charge has taken off..." He turned facing Prat with an icy gaze, "You're excused."
"Yes, sir..." Hurriedly Prat nodded and took his leave of Iron's study, nearly tripping over one of the wolf dogs that always seemed to be about.

Once Prat was clear of the room another voice sounded "The boy's depressed, Kenneth..." A middle aged man emerged from the side of the study, his crisp white doctors coat contrasting with the entire room. He crossed his arms over his chest, walking slowly as he went, regarding the man who had hired him.
"Nonsense..." Irons' sneered at Immo, but a flicker of pain flashed in his ice cold eyes. He turned, looking at the fire and moved to his easy chair. "The boy has everything that he needs to succeed in life, the best education, more then enough of the most sophisticated training equipment in computers, fighting and weapons. He lacks nothing." Carefully he laid the book down on a small end table by his chair, but never took his eyes off the fire.
"Friends... A normal childhood, hell Kenneth, the boys' never even been out to the movies." Immo controlled his voice, but the emotion was heavy in his tone and he faltered in his steps toward the arm chair.

"Ian is not a normal teenager Immo, you know this. He was created by me, to serve me and through me the Witchblade." Irons laced his hands in his lap, leaning his head back against the chair. "He has accesses the finest entertainment system there is... An outing to the movies would not provide him with any needed tutelage."

"He's dangerously UN-socialized, he's showed signs of being extremely shy around the opposite sex, he has no inclining of the proper way to act around kids his own age. Hell he doesn't even know HOW to act his own age." Immo threw his hands up, he had been there when Ian was created, watched him grow from a fairly happy young child to the depressed introverted teen he was now, and it was breaking his heart. Iron's had adored Ian when they had first acquired him, showered affection upon him, but something had changed.

"Ian has no need of these things, Immo! You had no complaints of the way I was raising him before..." Ice snapped in his voice and danced in his eyes, but close to the surface pain also swam in his eyes.