The usual disclaimers. The story is mine. The characters are not.
***
The characters belong to Top cow and TNT as do all their toys, accessories and appliances, including the Witchblade. The Tome and Key are mine.
*warnings, apologies and excuses*
***
Swearing
*words typed within asterisks signify thoughts*
********************
Locales
********************
Tenebrous
chapter 11
**************************************
********************
Iron's mansion
********************
Kenneth Irons sat in his study, massaging the armrest of his favorite chair as he contemplated the new developments in his little game.
Ian had mentioned a puzzle to release the Tome from it's seemingly impregnable casing. According to lore, the Key opened the Tome. There were no references to a puzzle. He wondered if the Sufult knew of this impediment. Ian didn't seem surprised by it.
Iron's employee seemed to believe that the Sufult would retreat after repossessing what they had lost. Perhaps waiting for an efficacious opportunity to present itself, rather than careening recklessly into a doubtless all out war with Irons and his minions.
The assassin believed in subtlety and subterfuge, the Sufult's history being a prime example of their advantages. Rather than openly assaulting the Holy Roman Catholic Church, the sect had altered manuscripts and removed objects of power by insinuating themselves within the church itself. Even their attempt at dealing with the Witchblade problem showed their tendency toward underhandedness.
Yet the sect had acted aggressively in their attempt to retrieve the Tome. Kenneth believed Ian might have overestimated the wisdom of the Sufult.
Perhaps in their anxiousness to resolve a scheme that had lay dormant for centuries, they had acted rashly. Or perhaps they were acting out of panic. Either way, Irons suspected they may stay on this path. Especially if the sect believed the Key had been found.
Regardless, they had offended him by their reckless attempt to thwart his plans. He decided to give them a small reminder of why they should not interfere in his matters.
He called for Andreas, one of his capable operators.
When Andreas finally arrived, Irons was fondling the candy dish. The delectable toffees would never be the same. Kenneth would have acquired a cat to occupy his anxious hands, but after the 'Bond' movies they were so cliche.
"I'm feeling benevolent," Kenneth Irons announced as Andreas waited for his assignment. Kenneth noticed the operator eyeing him dubiously.
"Sir?" Andreas responded, hoping to prompt his employer into a more believable explanation for his summons.
"I have been hoarding information that would be useful to others in their endeavors," Mr. Irons admitted, tilting his chin up and appearing to look thoughtful.
"What do you wish me to do, Sir?" Andreas asked, a bit baffled.
"In the library there is extensive information on the Sufult." Irons informed. "From the information I have, I would like you to prepare dossiers tailored to the needs of each of the three recipients I have chosen."
Irons paused dramatically before revealing his first benefactor. "That impertinent FBI agent may find particular documents, along with maps of the Sufult catacombs, helpful in his investigation," he stated, imagining the delicious detective dragging his red headed companion through the dank tunnels.
Satisfied with his first choice, Kenneth moved onto the second subject. "Perhaps Cardinal Torrenturo might like to take a closer look at a specific chalice. It may be a fraud," Irons suggested, pausing to scribble some notes on a piece of paper.
His employer's idea of 'benevolence' was beginning to become clear to Andreas.
"Likewise, I'm sure a certain Middle East faction would be interested to know that a document very sacred to them has been falsified. Perhaps they may wish to retrieve the original manuscript of their Deity," he continued, vivaciously indulging himself in his viciousness.
Andreas wondered what nefarious crime the Sufult had committed to attract his employers ire.
"I'm sure you are aware of the details on these...previously obtrusive entities. It should not be to difficult to arrange a parley." Irons held out the piece of paper to his henchman, caressing his pen before adding. "Ah, and Andreas, have the carrion division monitor their progress."
With a shooing gesture from Irons, Andreas set off to accomplish his tasks. His reminder taken care of, Irons turned his attention to the situation at hand.
The clean up crew had alerted Irons that they had Talismaniac monitored under Ian Nottingham's orders. He'd suggested that they also have another team keep an entrance clear by disposing of any spies or thugs at the rear entrance to the building. Kenneth decided this would give Ian some privacy if he returned with Gabriel and also piss off the Sufult. This was keeping them busy and becoming tiresome, as the Sufult seemed religiously determined to monitor each entrance.
Kenneth decided Ian didn't need to be bothered with these trivialities. The assassin's assignment had been to keep the enemy at bay and retrieve the tome once Gabriel opened it. Now his main duty would be to protect the young man until he had accomplished his purpose. After that, the Sufult could do whatever they wanted with Gabriel.
He hoped his assassin was maintaining a degree of discretion. He didn't want the young artifact dealer aware of his intentions. The Wielder would most likely confront him on the matter, but that would merely provide him with another opportunity to taunt her.
With a smug smile perched on his lips he decided to retire for the evening.
********************
Sara's apartment
********************
Ian's sharp eyes scanned the perimeter, hoping for any distraction to release his frustration on. Usually, he enjoyed silently observing Sara. Her behavior of late, however, had caused him much confusion and dismay.
Roy, who seemed to be trying to earn brownie points with him for some reason, had called just as he decided to peer through the cracks of Sara's bedroom window blinds. As Roy disclosed Iron's orders, the assassin saw Sara petting and then restraining Gabriel on the bed.
*At least he's resisting her wiles* Ian thought, as Gabriel struggled to get away. He heard Sara say "Okay, okay" and hand him a backpack.
Despite Roy's insistent blathering, he managed to make out that the boy had managed to convince Lady Sara to allow him his modesty, asking her to leave while he dressed. The assassin watched as the boy pulled out some clothes and the Tome. Ending the phone conversation, he scanned the area again. The assassin sensed nothing but sparse traffic and a derelict singing loudly to himself. Ian hoped it was to himself, he noted no one else in the area and he didn't like the idea of being serenaded by the man.
He returned his attention to the room where the Wielder was clasping Gabriel fiercely and crying. "Just as I thought," muttered Ian Nottingham, "cuddlefest."
The assassin felt Sara was seriously overreacting to the 'trauma' he'd supposedly caused Gabriel by simply standing there. SHE was the one who yanked the sheets off the boy.
********************
Sufult lair
********************
Brother Rason had arrived with the Tome. Consul Damak's top aide, Magistrate Banol, escorted him. The Consul was eager to discuss the situation in person with his aide but he needed to examine the Tome first. Perhaps brother Rason had not examined it thoroughly.
As he turned it over and over in his hands, checking each surface and seamless juncture, an expression of disappointment deepened on his face. The Tome looked to be the same innocuous slab as when they had first acquired it. There was no indication that it had been altered.
Consul Damak frowned. Being that it showed no signs of being opened at all, he briefly wondered if maybe it hadn't. There was a possibility that the young man's research was just coincidence. It was doubtful, but they would know for sure once they had the young entrepreneur.
Another call interrupted his speculations. It was one of the scouts assigned to monitor the entrance of Kenneth Iron's estate. Iron's assassin had entered and left the estate.
"Was our target, Gabriel Bowman, with him?" Consul Damak asked apprehensively.
"No, Prime Consul," the scout answered.
"How can you be sure?" Consul Damak argued. "The young man may have been in the trunk."
"He was on a motorcycle, Prime Consul," the scout replied.
A rush of relief flowed through Consul Damak. Even if the assassin had captured their prey, which now looked doubtful, he had not taken him to Iron's stronghold yet. The place was impenetrable.
The Consul concluded that the assassin had either stored the young man elsewhere or the prey had eluded them both. He hoped for the latter.
Consul Damak decided to spur on the hunt for their elusive quarry. He turned to one of his attendants.
"Gather up all information that we have on Mr. Bowman. I want the Enforcers to visit every acquaintance that we are aware of, every place he frequents," Consul Damak demanded.
While he doled out his instructions, Magistrate Banol approached him. The handsome and commanding man waited patiently for him to finish his orders before engaging him in debate over strategy and procedures.
"What If the target has taken it to the Wielder?" Magistrate Banol began.
Consul Damak was surprised by the Magistrate's abrupt question. "I had suspected that a Wielder would be in the picture. However, as much as we have been able to monitor the young man, he doesn't seem to have had dealings with anyone fitting the description of the Wielder. There was a female who had practically lived at Gabriel's apartment but she was definitely not the Wielder," the Consul replied.
After receiving a doubtful stare from Magistrate Banol, the Consul continued, "She could have slipped by, of course, given the assassin's tendencies to eliminate random spies and scouts. Along with the wide berth we've given Irons and Ian Nottingham, it is possible."
Magistrate Banol was beginning to believe the Prime Consul had become a little too complacent in his position. He understood maintaining the secrecy and safety of the sect but he did not like the way Consul Damak cowed to Mr. Irons. "Well, perhaps we should study the 'randomness' of the spies the assassin has apparently deemed a threat. A professional assassin such as he, does not kill randomly."
"And if it turns out the assassin is concealing the Wielder from us?" the Prime Consul queried, worried of the reply from the truculent Magistrate.
"Then the stakes are raised," Magistrate Banol replied coolly.
********************
Sara's apartment
********************
Feeling Gabriel's embrace weaken, Sara pulled him into bed and tucked him in for the third time that evening. She'd tried to read his expression once more, but his eyes were half closed and he simply looked exhausted. He wearily curled upon the mattress and before she'd even gotten the covers over him, he was asleep.
She doubted that she would find reprieve so easily. That closed expression Gabriel wore in reaction to her outburst disturbed her. He'd always been candid and accepting of all her quirks. Not to mention the fact that Gabriel was by nature, a very open and honest person.
She recalled the time Jake had asked him an audaciously personal question. Gabriel had raised an eyebrow at the query, but answered him amicably nonetheless. And for a guy who had defied an assassin's torture threats to give her information on the Blade, she'd doubted his sudden reticence was due to self-preservation either. Something odd was up with him. She just didn't know what.
The whole evening had been out of control. And now some idiot was outside her window, singing. The obviously inebriated man belting out Back in Black reminded her of Nottingham for some strange reason. She decided to see what the assassin was up to.
When she stepped onto the fire escape she saw Nottingham scowling down at the street. If the derelict's singing was for Nottingham's benefit he was apparently undaunted by the assassin's furious expression.
"Sara," he clipped without looking at her, the angry scowl still in place and aimed at the street below.
"Um, how's it going?" she asked lamely. She thought she detected a bit of coldness in his greeting. Nottingham shifted his glare to her briefly before returning it to the oblivious crooner.
The Wielder wasn't used to being on the receiving end of Ian's glare, if even briefly. Sara was taken aback. First Gabriel shuts her out and now Nottingham's mad at her?
"Just wonderful," he answered caustically. "I am thoroughly enjoying the riveting song stylings of monsieur street bard." The man's awful yowling was not helping Ian's already strained nerves. "I was thinking of requesting 'Mrs. Robinson' as his next ballad, if you'd care to stay."
Ian turned slowly towards Sara. He pierced her with a smoldering gaze before adding, "Or are you just taking a breather from your little cosset."
"What the- Whoa- Hey!" Sara sputtered angrily, " What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Ian answered by simply turning back to the lone caroler and casually casting a stone into the street.
"BAAAAAAAACK IN BLAAAA-Ow!" was heard from below. Followed by, "Cranky Bitch."
Sara thought the drunken man's complaint was aimed at the assassin, since he threw the stone, until she realized Nottingham was hidden in shadow and she was clearly visible.
"Yeah, well... You were askin' for it!" she retorted. "Go sleep it off!" she added, momentarily venting her anger and frustration on the rowdy singer.
tbc
**************************************
This installment required a daytimer with a linear graph, a pie chart, one of those giant maps with blinking lights, a detailed streetmap of NY city, research on the velocity of western sparrows, push pins, a GPS unit and some action figures.
I apologize profusely to Roguegal17 for putting her through the misery of the first and second draft.
A big 'THANK YOU' to the people who took the time to review this story. Your questions and comments have extended this tale far past my initial goal of ending it at the 6th chapter. I apologize to those who wish I'd wrapped it sooner.
Riyallyn - Yup, he's got his reasons, but as no one in this tale knows all of the circumstances, well, we'll just see... Wish him luck for me.
Spin - Wow, it's Spin! I know I've gushed over your stories before I got a proper Identity by registering at ff. Oh, again, I can't say what he does and doesn't know. I could but that would make it boring, no? Glad you noticed that. I have a habit of dropping little clues rather than explaining things outright. I've tried to become a bit more straightforward and obvious. I realize people are reading a lot of stories and would not remember a single seemingly inconsequential line from 3 chapters back.
dragongrrl - I am amazed that you like the story. I am jealous of your Enteman's truck. So frustrated about the antidote.
You can blame Roguegal for revealing Gabriel's previous slaying. She had a complaint about issues revolving around the modern day 'scribe'. I hadn't said the scribe was Gabe, (even though that was what my mind conjured) and hadn't planned to describe the scribe's appearance at all. But obviously I'm obvious.
ann - Thank you for liking the extended version. I do have some schematics to work out now, tho.
I picture this from late season one or early two (Irons is still alive) so his hair is still relatively short and given to waywardness if he slept with it damp. I was remembering Agent Cooper's (fom twin peaks) bed head, hysterical!
prequenop - Hee! Oh, it's all about the hair, hehe. Thank you for the wonderful complement, btw.
Divamercury - You nailed it, that and this chapter are a set up for well, hm, something that I may have to purchase more action figures for.
p.s.
I've entered the busy season for my workload. I suddenly have a MASSIVE amount of projects, so the next chapter will either be very short or very far away. Sorry.
***
The characters belong to Top cow and TNT as do all their toys, accessories and appliances, including the Witchblade. The Tome and Key are mine.
*warnings, apologies and excuses*
***
Swearing
*words typed within asterisks signify thoughts*
********************
Locales
********************
Tenebrous
chapter 11
**************************************
********************
Iron's mansion
********************
Kenneth Irons sat in his study, massaging the armrest of his favorite chair as he contemplated the new developments in his little game.
Ian had mentioned a puzzle to release the Tome from it's seemingly impregnable casing. According to lore, the Key opened the Tome. There were no references to a puzzle. He wondered if the Sufult knew of this impediment. Ian didn't seem surprised by it.
Iron's employee seemed to believe that the Sufult would retreat after repossessing what they had lost. Perhaps waiting for an efficacious opportunity to present itself, rather than careening recklessly into a doubtless all out war with Irons and his minions.
The assassin believed in subtlety and subterfuge, the Sufult's history being a prime example of their advantages. Rather than openly assaulting the Holy Roman Catholic Church, the sect had altered manuscripts and removed objects of power by insinuating themselves within the church itself. Even their attempt at dealing with the Witchblade problem showed their tendency toward underhandedness.
Yet the sect had acted aggressively in their attempt to retrieve the Tome. Kenneth believed Ian might have overestimated the wisdom of the Sufult.
Perhaps in their anxiousness to resolve a scheme that had lay dormant for centuries, they had acted rashly. Or perhaps they were acting out of panic. Either way, Irons suspected they may stay on this path. Especially if the sect believed the Key had been found.
Regardless, they had offended him by their reckless attempt to thwart his plans. He decided to give them a small reminder of why they should not interfere in his matters.
He called for Andreas, one of his capable operators.
When Andreas finally arrived, Irons was fondling the candy dish. The delectable toffees would never be the same. Kenneth would have acquired a cat to occupy his anxious hands, but after the 'Bond' movies they were so cliche.
"I'm feeling benevolent," Kenneth Irons announced as Andreas waited for his assignment. Kenneth noticed the operator eyeing him dubiously.
"Sir?" Andreas responded, hoping to prompt his employer into a more believable explanation for his summons.
"I have been hoarding information that would be useful to others in their endeavors," Mr. Irons admitted, tilting his chin up and appearing to look thoughtful.
"What do you wish me to do, Sir?" Andreas asked, a bit baffled.
"In the library there is extensive information on the Sufult." Irons informed. "From the information I have, I would like you to prepare dossiers tailored to the needs of each of the three recipients I have chosen."
Irons paused dramatically before revealing his first benefactor. "That impertinent FBI agent may find particular documents, along with maps of the Sufult catacombs, helpful in his investigation," he stated, imagining the delicious detective dragging his red headed companion through the dank tunnels.
Satisfied with his first choice, Kenneth moved onto the second subject. "Perhaps Cardinal Torrenturo might like to take a closer look at a specific chalice. It may be a fraud," Irons suggested, pausing to scribble some notes on a piece of paper.
His employer's idea of 'benevolence' was beginning to become clear to Andreas.
"Likewise, I'm sure a certain Middle East faction would be interested to know that a document very sacred to them has been falsified. Perhaps they may wish to retrieve the original manuscript of their Deity," he continued, vivaciously indulging himself in his viciousness.
Andreas wondered what nefarious crime the Sufult had committed to attract his employers ire.
"I'm sure you are aware of the details on these...previously obtrusive entities. It should not be to difficult to arrange a parley." Irons held out the piece of paper to his henchman, caressing his pen before adding. "Ah, and Andreas, have the carrion division monitor their progress."
With a shooing gesture from Irons, Andreas set off to accomplish his tasks. His reminder taken care of, Irons turned his attention to the situation at hand.
The clean up crew had alerted Irons that they had Talismaniac monitored under Ian Nottingham's orders. He'd suggested that they also have another team keep an entrance clear by disposing of any spies or thugs at the rear entrance to the building. Kenneth decided this would give Ian some privacy if he returned with Gabriel and also piss off the Sufult. This was keeping them busy and becoming tiresome, as the Sufult seemed religiously determined to monitor each entrance.
Kenneth decided Ian didn't need to be bothered with these trivialities. The assassin's assignment had been to keep the enemy at bay and retrieve the tome once Gabriel opened it. Now his main duty would be to protect the young man until he had accomplished his purpose. After that, the Sufult could do whatever they wanted with Gabriel.
He hoped his assassin was maintaining a degree of discretion. He didn't want the young artifact dealer aware of his intentions. The Wielder would most likely confront him on the matter, but that would merely provide him with another opportunity to taunt her.
With a smug smile perched on his lips he decided to retire for the evening.
********************
Sara's apartment
********************
Ian's sharp eyes scanned the perimeter, hoping for any distraction to release his frustration on. Usually, he enjoyed silently observing Sara. Her behavior of late, however, had caused him much confusion and dismay.
Roy, who seemed to be trying to earn brownie points with him for some reason, had called just as he decided to peer through the cracks of Sara's bedroom window blinds. As Roy disclosed Iron's orders, the assassin saw Sara petting and then restraining Gabriel on the bed.
*At least he's resisting her wiles* Ian thought, as Gabriel struggled to get away. He heard Sara say "Okay, okay" and hand him a backpack.
Despite Roy's insistent blathering, he managed to make out that the boy had managed to convince Lady Sara to allow him his modesty, asking her to leave while he dressed. The assassin watched as the boy pulled out some clothes and the Tome. Ending the phone conversation, he scanned the area again. The assassin sensed nothing but sparse traffic and a derelict singing loudly to himself. Ian hoped it was to himself, he noted no one else in the area and he didn't like the idea of being serenaded by the man.
He returned his attention to the room where the Wielder was clasping Gabriel fiercely and crying. "Just as I thought," muttered Ian Nottingham, "cuddlefest."
The assassin felt Sara was seriously overreacting to the 'trauma' he'd supposedly caused Gabriel by simply standing there. SHE was the one who yanked the sheets off the boy.
********************
Sufult lair
********************
Brother Rason had arrived with the Tome. Consul Damak's top aide, Magistrate Banol, escorted him. The Consul was eager to discuss the situation in person with his aide but he needed to examine the Tome first. Perhaps brother Rason had not examined it thoroughly.
As he turned it over and over in his hands, checking each surface and seamless juncture, an expression of disappointment deepened on his face. The Tome looked to be the same innocuous slab as when they had first acquired it. There was no indication that it had been altered.
Consul Damak frowned. Being that it showed no signs of being opened at all, he briefly wondered if maybe it hadn't. There was a possibility that the young man's research was just coincidence. It was doubtful, but they would know for sure once they had the young entrepreneur.
Another call interrupted his speculations. It was one of the scouts assigned to monitor the entrance of Kenneth Iron's estate. Iron's assassin had entered and left the estate.
"Was our target, Gabriel Bowman, with him?" Consul Damak asked apprehensively.
"No, Prime Consul," the scout answered.
"How can you be sure?" Consul Damak argued. "The young man may have been in the trunk."
"He was on a motorcycle, Prime Consul," the scout replied.
A rush of relief flowed through Consul Damak. Even if the assassin had captured their prey, which now looked doubtful, he had not taken him to Iron's stronghold yet. The place was impenetrable.
The Consul concluded that the assassin had either stored the young man elsewhere or the prey had eluded them both. He hoped for the latter.
Consul Damak decided to spur on the hunt for their elusive quarry. He turned to one of his attendants.
"Gather up all information that we have on Mr. Bowman. I want the Enforcers to visit every acquaintance that we are aware of, every place he frequents," Consul Damak demanded.
While he doled out his instructions, Magistrate Banol approached him. The handsome and commanding man waited patiently for him to finish his orders before engaging him in debate over strategy and procedures.
"What If the target has taken it to the Wielder?" Magistrate Banol began.
Consul Damak was surprised by the Magistrate's abrupt question. "I had suspected that a Wielder would be in the picture. However, as much as we have been able to monitor the young man, he doesn't seem to have had dealings with anyone fitting the description of the Wielder. There was a female who had practically lived at Gabriel's apartment but she was definitely not the Wielder," the Consul replied.
After receiving a doubtful stare from Magistrate Banol, the Consul continued, "She could have slipped by, of course, given the assassin's tendencies to eliminate random spies and scouts. Along with the wide berth we've given Irons and Ian Nottingham, it is possible."
Magistrate Banol was beginning to believe the Prime Consul had become a little too complacent in his position. He understood maintaining the secrecy and safety of the sect but he did not like the way Consul Damak cowed to Mr. Irons. "Well, perhaps we should study the 'randomness' of the spies the assassin has apparently deemed a threat. A professional assassin such as he, does not kill randomly."
"And if it turns out the assassin is concealing the Wielder from us?" the Prime Consul queried, worried of the reply from the truculent Magistrate.
"Then the stakes are raised," Magistrate Banol replied coolly.
********************
Sara's apartment
********************
Feeling Gabriel's embrace weaken, Sara pulled him into bed and tucked him in for the third time that evening. She'd tried to read his expression once more, but his eyes were half closed and he simply looked exhausted. He wearily curled upon the mattress and before she'd even gotten the covers over him, he was asleep.
She doubted that she would find reprieve so easily. That closed expression Gabriel wore in reaction to her outburst disturbed her. He'd always been candid and accepting of all her quirks. Not to mention the fact that Gabriel was by nature, a very open and honest person.
She recalled the time Jake had asked him an audaciously personal question. Gabriel had raised an eyebrow at the query, but answered him amicably nonetheless. And for a guy who had defied an assassin's torture threats to give her information on the Blade, she'd doubted his sudden reticence was due to self-preservation either. Something odd was up with him. She just didn't know what.
The whole evening had been out of control. And now some idiot was outside her window, singing. The obviously inebriated man belting out Back in Black reminded her of Nottingham for some strange reason. She decided to see what the assassin was up to.
When she stepped onto the fire escape she saw Nottingham scowling down at the street. If the derelict's singing was for Nottingham's benefit he was apparently undaunted by the assassin's furious expression.
"Sara," he clipped without looking at her, the angry scowl still in place and aimed at the street below.
"Um, how's it going?" she asked lamely. She thought she detected a bit of coldness in his greeting. Nottingham shifted his glare to her briefly before returning it to the oblivious crooner.
The Wielder wasn't used to being on the receiving end of Ian's glare, if even briefly. Sara was taken aback. First Gabriel shuts her out and now Nottingham's mad at her?
"Just wonderful," he answered caustically. "I am thoroughly enjoying the riveting song stylings of monsieur street bard." The man's awful yowling was not helping Ian's already strained nerves. "I was thinking of requesting 'Mrs. Robinson' as his next ballad, if you'd care to stay."
Ian turned slowly towards Sara. He pierced her with a smoldering gaze before adding, "Or are you just taking a breather from your little cosset."
"What the- Whoa- Hey!" Sara sputtered angrily, " What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Ian answered by simply turning back to the lone caroler and casually casting a stone into the street.
"BAAAAAAAACK IN BLAAAA-Ow!" was heard from below. Followed by, "Cranky Bitch."
Sara thought the drunken man's complaint was aimed at the assassin, since he threw the stone, until she realized Nottingham was hidden in shadow and she was clearly visible.
"Yeah, well... You were askin' for it!" she retorted. "Go sleep it off!" she added, momentarily venting her anger and frustration on the rowdy singer.
tbc
**************************************
This installment required a daytimer with a linear graph, a pie chart, one of those giant maps with blinking lights, a detailed streetmap of NY city, research on the velocity of western sparrows, push pins, a GPS unit and some action figures.
I apologize profusely to Roguegal17 for putting her through the misery of the first and second draft.
A big 'THANK YOU' to the people who took the time to review this story. Your questions and comments have extended this tale far past my initial goal of ending it at the 6th chapter. I apologize to those who wish I'd wrapped it sooner.
Riyallyn - Yup, he's got his reasons, but as no one in this tale knows all of the circumstances, well, we'll just see... Wish him luck for me.
Spin - Wow, it's Spin! I know I've gushed over your stories before I got a proper Identity by registering at ff. Oh, again, I can't say what he does and doesn't know. I could but that would make it boring, no? Glad you noticed that. I have a habit of dropping little clues rather than explaining things outright. I've tried to become a bit more straightforward and obvious. I realize people are reading a lot of stories and would not remember a single seemingly inconsequential line from 3 chapters back.
dragongrrl - I am amazed that you like the story. I am jealous of your Enteman's truck. So frustrated about the antidote.
You can blame Roguegal for revealing Gabriel's previous slaying. She had a complaint about issues revolving around the modern day 'scribe'. I hadn't said the scribe was Gabe, (even though that was what my mind conjured) and hadn't planned to describe the scribe's appearance at all. But obviously I'm obvious.
ann - Thank you for liking the extended version. I do have some schematics to work out now, tho.
I picture this from late season one or early two (Irons is still alive) so his hair is still relatively short and given to waywardness if he slept with it damp. I was remembering Agent Cooper's (fom twin peaks) bed head, hysterical!
prequenop - Hee! Oh, it's all about the hair, hehe. Thank you for the wonderful complement, btw.
Divamercury - You nailed it, that and this chapter are a set up for well, hm, something that I may have to purchase more action figures for.
p.s.
I've entered the busy season for my workload. I suddenly have a MASSIVE amount of projects, so the next chapter will either be very short or very far away. Sorry.