Game, Set, and Match.. (Feat. Terry Sheridan, Lara Croft, Sara Pezzini, Kenneth Irons, Ian Nottingham, Jackie Estacado, Jake McCarthy and Tora No Shi)

Watching Lara for a moment he looked away as she made some comments. Form shifted watching the monitors and he glanced towards Lara a moment. "You've always loved your history.." he said simply and looked back. This was getting out of hand. He couldn't contact Jake, and who knew about Nottingham's matter of things. If he really did like Sara maybe he'd do something against Irons. And Jackie. Well Jackie would be pissed to find Iron's had a hand in Lara's 'death' but of course, he didn't have a way to contact him. Besides the Darklings. Though despite it all he gritted his teeth that he might in fact need Jackie's involvement. He'd already in listed the involvement of Dimitri, and of course he being the head. The rest of the Russian Mob, which had been just doing calm drug and weapons smuggling. "Shit.." he cursed watching what was going on and he moved he wasn't about to let Sara die and just stand there. His form moved now across the floor and he moved towards the mattress on the floor. Ripping part of the sheet's he tied Lara down and looked at her "Sorry, love. I 'ave too." He stood some securing the other knots tightly making sure it wasn't going to move. " wouldn't want you following me in your state." He opened a case and pulled out a few more holster attaching them to himself. His other 5 were still attached to him and he moved now filling a large duffel back with things from silver cases, explosives to knifes, to ammo. Lastly he slips the sword Jackie let him 'borrow' onto his back. The war was coming quicker than planned. But something and one final item. Jackie's sword was strapped to his back. the war was coming. needed to be done. Picking up his cell he called Dimitri once more "Don't vorry my friend. Ve are ready." Sheridan moved lifting the duffel bag onto his shoulder. And he looked at Lara. "I won't sit and watch 'im break 'er any more than 'e 'as." His eyes scanned her some and shifted "The guns in the second silver case by the computer. Watch the screens." He stepped forwards some and kissed her slightly before raising to his feet. But nothing else was said. Was he saying his good-byes, possibly. It was going to be messy. Shifting he left the hidden apartment and out into the darkening streets. He didn't bother taking the Ducatti and his dark form moved over the sidewalk walking about a block before a black Hummer pulled to the side and Sheridan got in. Dimitri behind the wheel, armed men in the back. "You know what this means don't you? The Russian Mob has gotten little heat." Dimitri looked over towards the spy "Ve could use a bit more of a reputation." The spy shifted uneasily in the set and he removed on of the guns. "On second." He got out of the Hummer and moved some into the alley shooting up into the darkness. While his eyes searched the shadows for glowing yellow eyes. "JACKIE! If your Darklings are watching..better come find me or I start shooting. Do you hear me!?" his British was shouting out into the night. -I just hope this ruddy works- he thought over in his mind. tonight they were going to storm the castle and they might not make it out alive.

Pain. Sure she had felt it before, but usually some sort of painkillers helped to dull it a little. However she was going without this time and having to deal, no finer aspects of life this night. Just pain. For the most part Lara remained on her back, orbs glued on the screens she could see Sara and Irons in Deep down The Brit wanted it to be so easy, but with Kenneth Irons it never was. Nor will it be. This mad Lara's hate for him run deep and cold. Personally she'd love to be there now, she wouldn't have stalled; She would have walked out there lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. And that would have been that However, that was what made the two women so different. Lara always more of the shoot ask questions later sort. Sara played by cop rules, don't shoot unless it came to that. Her mind wandered aimlessly now, the pain wanting her to simply close her eyes. That was not allowed, if she closed her eyes there was a chance she might not open them again for a long time. For the most part the brass-balled Archaeologist did well against the pain. Never crying out, not even a whimper. After all she is tough as nails, if not more so. It did hurt her to breath however and once and a while a hiss would escape with an exhale of air. Lara's cuts from the glass and the knife where she was slashed on her arm became to sting and the bruises felt like heavy weights stuck on her. The Brit was alive though and for that she would deal with her injuries, slowly she decided she would try and stand. No use, not even a second later as soon as any sort of weight came down onto her left ankle back down she went," Ruddy hell.." A fist connected with the mattress after she landed on it angrily. A brow arched," Slightly.." Some aspects of her history she did not. But of course Terry was well aware of that. She laid back, a bit fed up with trying to be the strong one. No matter what she did though she will always be just that. Hazel orbs watched the screen and narrowed," That smug son of a bitch." Lara's fists clenched. How she loathed Kenneth Irons, and if Nottingham loved Sara so much where the hell was he now? That wasn't fair of her, Lara realized that know cunning Mr. Irons he probably sent Ian out on business for him," Terry what in the bloody hell are you..." Eyes went wide as she tried to move, but found she could not," Damn you! Get back here and untie me you bastard!" Her tone was dark, clearly obvious she was mad as hell. Fists clenched as she thrashed about for a moment despite the pain. ," Grr.." The hazel orbs seemed to darken as well in color as cheeks became flushed in anger, then the man had to nerve to kiss her. When he did, lips stayed tight, unwelcoming. Pissed off indeed. Hazel orbs glared, if only she had a weapon of some sort or could move she would have. Eyes shifted quickly to the monitors as fingers began to work at the knots. Had Terry forgotten the sort of woman he had tied up? Seemed that way indeed. It would not be long before she had the knots undone, but then what? She couldn't even walk, but at least she wouldn't be tied down.

If the volley of punches to her torso weren't' bad enough, the Witchblade's sudden turnabout was worse. As it ripped up her arms and across her chest it cut deep groves and slices into her delicate and already battered body. It clinched in at places crushing the bone as it dug and twisted, it seemed the Witchblade was in conflict of itself. The grey unaffected eyes of Kenneth Irons glinted with this new power as he drove blow after blow into her. It wasn't like Sara not to fight back, and although her fists connected with practiced accuracy and strength, Kenneth was ostensibly impervious to her strikes. She ducked and rolled out of the way tendrils of the Witchblade scratching against the wall and floor like claws and hooks. Her body was screaming for release. And Sara wasn't about to stop. She pivoted her torso and sent a stunning crescent kick to the side of Ken's head. Just before it struck, the billionaire grabbed her ankle and literally slammed her body into the supporting post of the bead, snapping it in half. "How many times will I have to teach you this lesson Sara?!" he growled. The gun skittered across the floor landing next to the bathroom door. With the move Sara felt her knee give; Cartilage, ligaments and tendons ripping from their proper places the sound like heavy upholstery fabric being ripped. The auburn haired officer screamed though gritted teeth trying to hold her pain back, but this was just too much. Sara fell to the floor as a cold sweat washed over her. "Shhhh." Ken whispered reaching into his pocket. The anger seems gone, he's so calm. but why is the Witchblade still hurting me? Sara thought. With his left hand Irons' brushed a few locks of stray hair away from her face. "Don't ruin this moment with your idiotic babble." With the right, he took her gauntlet encrusted hand and dropped the small dime sized lavender gem. Immediately the blade enveloped the new 'toy" and a ripple ran though the organic metal.

He turned away slightly as she struggled against the ties, he'd made them tight. And then he looked back towards her. "Fancy 'ow my 'oliday 'as ended up..what do you say to that, Tomb Raider." he gave her a slightly forced roguish smile before turning again. Let her call him any name she pleased, it didn't matter. And nothing she could do could be worse than he was about to do on his own. He could have just been a dead man walking, like the others who were joining him. "If this fails..stay 'idden, get away. Go to Jackie..or England. But don't go after 'im." There was a slight shrug "Right..i doubt it..you never listen to me anyway, eh. That's what you just said moments ago." He looked down towards her tied form. She might be able to get out of the ties true, but she wouldn't be able to go anywhere. The only access was from the roof and to get there a leap across to the other side where the fire escape was. But the monitors would so everything. The carnage. The damage. The death. There was no other way around it, sooner or later it would have come to this and why give Iron's the opportunity to prepare. Though some part of him had wished the return of his lips. But he got over it. The Tomb Raider was pissed, no ifs ands or butts. "Next time, remind me not to take 'oliday in New York." -if there is a next time- and he was gone.

As the saying went no pain, no gain. Lara was about to prove it right. The knots were starting to take a bit longer then she thought. The Brit had to give the Ex-Spy praise, he could still make knots of a sailor's worst nightmare. She also had to give herself praise for still being able to work them. Soon one hand was free, quickly she moved it working on the remaining knots easier. Hazel orbs remained glued to the monitors, Lara almost did not want to watch and yet she still did. And the more she watched the more angry she became. The desire of wanting to spill Irons blood became more apparent, more wanted. A need. Irons was the core of all their problems. Remove the core and the rest falls apart," I never get to have any bloody fun." Eyes quickly narrowed as the scene erupted onto the monitors. Lara was now more determined then ever to get out and kill Irons. Again more impatient thrashing about from the Tomb Raider," You asshole!" Came the rich English accent towards Irons' image on the monitor as she fought and fought with her restrains, only making herself tired and hurt worse," Bugger." Hissed the Brit slowly in a purely seething manner. By now she looked like a wild woman, cheeks flushed hair falling from it's normally neat perfect braid, teeth gritted and fists clenched. Again her body sought to rise upwards and work out of the confines and again she came right back down thanks to them and her pain. It was torture for her to watch the things she was, snidely she wondered if Terry knew this. Payback was in order if he came back alive. And Lara Croft always pays her dues, plus the fact she hadn't the foggiest idea of what Sheridan was about to do only irked the woman more.

Things were going from strange to stranger. The Witchblade retracted onto Sara's wrist and yet the color remained the same. It appeared that the once greenish metal was now a bright platinum. matching the tiny tear drop pendant that still hung about her neck. The bracelet too was different in shape and design. Normally it resembled a thick watch-like form or bracer about her wrist. When it collapsed this time its pattern was complex. And it didn't stop at her wrist; it encompassed most of her forearm and hand as well. Much like the gauntlet form in the Rialto theatre, but this pattern was more feminine. delicate thin lines. Reminiscent to Celtic knot work or the iron fences in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Twin pools of Jade and bisecting gold widened in surprise. Perhaps it was the overwhelming agony in her right knee, but there were a few other theories. Kenneth Irons smiled as he hulked over her, watching the effects of the new addition to the Witchblade. Oh yes things were going . exactly as planned. The Yakuza took care of that annoyance Lara Croft, a phone call from Tora no Shi confirmed her demise not thirty minutes earlier. And now here he was. a one very broken Sara Pezzini before his feet and the Witchblade nearly within his grasp. True, Ken realized he could never truly wield the blade himself, but with the addition of the violet gem, it would only be a matter of time before Sara was as obedient as Ian Nottingham. perhaps even more so. She was breathing hard bleeding from the wounds across her frame. The robe she was wearing tattered and torn, was stained in many places with her crimson blood. The white silk flayed out in the night air as she moaned trying to get up. "Ever the fighter aren't we Sara. you really should stop before you embarrass yourself." Irons folded his arms over his chest shaking his head confidently.

Dimitri had hung up the phone after receiving a call from Terry Sheridan, who was calling in a favor. There was a smile pulled against the Russians face as he ordered some of his men around in Russian. The men scattered crates were being pulled open and weapons were removed. "Prepare yourselves comrades, for tonight. Ve becoming known." There was a loud cheer as the men worked and celebrated slightly, drinking bottles of vodka around. Sheridan had also told Dimitri to go get one, Jake McCarthy, and NPYD Detective and Dimitri set off alone. The black Hummer pulled slowly in front of the detectives apartment and made his way up. Moving into the hallway he eyed the numbers on the doors before moving to the correct one. There was a loud knocking on the door, when he didn't hear anything he knocked again. Still nothing. The man must be asleep or not in. pulling the axe from the fire hose case he moved back towards the door and with one heavy swing the knob was removed and he headed inside. "Hello.. Comrade. I am here vor a Comrade Sheridan. He has told me to fetch you." Moving his he looked about Jake's apartment. "Comrade, McCarthy..don be afraid..come out. "

A lone figure stood practically within the burning remains of Lara Croft's former residence. Eyes keened...the piercing stare of a killer.. an assassin, staring unmoving to the flames which cast an orange tint abous his being. The task was completed. and he had done so with little to no effort at all. Thus a new aspect in his goals which were that of that Yakuza's.. came to mind. The Retrieval of the "Witchblade". One foot would turn...a slight pause in gesture before the other followed in suit, and thus movement was gained and the individual known as "The Tiger of Death" would be seen walking from this place with new location in mind. The residence of Sara Pezzini...the host of the Witchblade. Re-sheathing the Mugenjin (Serrated Sword) and proceeding through the front entrance. And out into the darkness..."Now...for the Next." Spoken codly as his form is engulfed within the bosom of the surrounding shadow.. in his unknown method of travels towards the residence of Sara..

Monitors showed images on the screen of a woman and a man. The woman a hero and the man a villain. As usual the same old fight of one verses the other. Lara was supposed to be there sustaining injuries from her "death", but if one was to peek into Terry Sheridan's little fortress in New York City one would find themselves staring at a empty room with monitors. She still hurt like hell, but she was not about to stay behind and watch. What did they expect anyhow? Wounded or not Lara wasn't going to wait there and wring her hands and watch the monitors. No way in hell. After the sassy Brit had plundered about the apartment finding some suitable weapons and her GDE from Jackie out she went into the night. Vengance was on her mind, vengance for a friend. Vengance for herself. And when Lara Croft set her mind to something she did it. After pysching herself up for the prospects of getting to kicking some ass, a very angered pissed off Archeaologist sat down on Terry's black Ducatti. Of course he had indeed taken the keys with him, however that would not stop Lara, oh no. After a few moments of tinkering the bike roared to life as a grin of mischeif spread across the Brit's full lips. Her ribs hurt badly still, every breath taken was agony. She forced this aside and focused on Irons and the pleasure she might get of cracking a few of his bones. Soon Lara was nothing but a black streak through the night as she pushed the bike towards Irons' penthouse, the bike was being pushed well beyond a hundred mph. The Ballsy woman was focused and in a bit of a bloodlust to kill. However if she didn't get that chance she hoped someone else worthy of it did. Like Sara or Terry, even Jackie.

Flashes of lightning began to appear in the black sky, the following thunder soon after it. Outside of Iron's penthouse, the Veranda namely, Ian stood with his sword drawn, looking to Irons inside. He waited for the next flash of lightning and thunder to move in, and when it happened , it seemed like he had appeared out of nowhere. His eyes lock onto Iron's, narrowing as he looked to the man. Here he was, towering over a woman and gloating in his joy, not to mention the woman he was hurting was Sara. All bad things for Irons right now. "I think there's going to be a change of plans." He says, soft enough to not be loud, but loud enough to be heard. He still had his other katana at his side, then Excalibur on his wrist. Somehow, he felt he was going to be needing all of it tonight.

Jackie felt the urge to finally reemerge back into the plains of reality. His meditation was over for the time... but would yet continue the moment he reentered into his Dojo again. Jigoku No Daidokoro was the establishment to which Jackie had remained. He was for the most part fairly calmed by the usage of his extensive meditation... possibly having been in the same exact spot for hours at a time, not saying a word, eating or even moving a muscle. The night time was what gave him the right of passage to exit his complex. He was dressed in his usual fancy attire, having changed from the Gi pants that he once wore. His dress attire pertained of an all black collection perfectly tailored to his liking. The night was unusually cold tonight and the smell of bloodshed drifted about the air. He'd put on the overcoat for added protection tonight. Within his reach was a assembly of weapons. Listing... The 6 foot Katana rested in it's sheath [located on his back, hilt tilted the right side, sword resting in a diagonal.] - Twin .50 Desert Eagles with special custom modifications [located beneath his arms inside of their rightful holsters.] - four curved daggers [located on the inside of his overcoat, out and about during this night, surveying the perimeters of Jackie's penthouse.... before it blew up anyways. Now they'd be on their way back to Jackie, they had a homing sense onto him wherever he seemed to be. One (Jones) would leap off a building and land directly in front of him. The link between the two was immensely strong and thus Jackie would be able to read it's thoughts without it having to say the slightest word. And plus, Jones was the designated watch guard for Lara, seeing how he wasn't at his post then it must've meant bad business. Jackie's knowledge was beyond normal bounds... he was forced to know everything about almost everything... since the manifestation of the Darkness within him allowed him to create anything within the bounds of his own mind. A form of transportation was necessary now. Within a second's notice, the GSX 1300R Hayabusa would appear before him, in the night. In the back of his mind he could link with every darkling wherever in the city and the voice of Sheridan blinked into his subconscious, was it a coincidence? Most likely not. His tires screeched and he headed towards Sheridan's current place of location, seemingly too close to one of his darklings a sense of Sheridan's involvement placed in his mind when he thought about his place and of Lara, and now he was definitely pushing his limit by taking aim at one of his elites. He'd kill him on sight if it came down to it, and no remorse would be felt. The sound of tires skidding in the street and thru an alleyway would be what Sheridan heard before he would see the bike coming his way. Jackie's eyes flared up with the burning fire of the signified bloodshed color red, smoke emitting from the corners.

Ah sleep felt so damned good right now. He had gone for seventy four hours straight with little less than three minutes of the sweet stuff total. He'd gone back to his apartment, and not much longer after turning on Tom and Jerry had he fallen asleep. He didn't even set the alarm, or go the bathroom first. He'd shredded nearly eighty pages of information on Sara, which in and of itself was a rather ballsy move, one that could cost not only his job but his career and his freedom. Right now he didn't care, not at all, not even a little. Right now he was surrounded by exotic women, wearing next to nothing, some were feeding him grapes, some were fanning him with overly large palm fronds, and still more were doing an exotic dance around the rather large, and overly lavish room. Sure it was a dream, but hey... he was a guy, a very unattached guy, no female counterpart to keep him in check. So he let his dreams hold all of those things he'd never actually experience. He didn't have a care in the world. Anything he'd ever need would be provided for him here, at least for as long as he remained asleep. Then he heard it, someone had the gall to break into his apartment, and while he was home no less. With a start he reached under his pillow and pulled his standard issue pistol from under it. He was, as always when asleep, nude. He pulled the sheet around his midsection with his free hand, and pressed his back against the wall. He was still very tired, but he'd gotten a few good hours of sleep. He was too tired to catch on to the gibberish the intruder was spouting, but awake enough to know it was probably unpleasant, or at least something he'd rather not hear. "Did he say Sheridan? Right.. I doubt it." In the next second he was out and around the corner, pistol aimed right at the man with axe's face. "Now now now... Breaking and entering is... you know... against the law. I can't really blame you, you probably didn't know I was a cop, or at least ya didn't figure I was at home..." That was about an hour or so ago. He hadn't shot the man, in fact he'd gone along with him. The Russian mobster had taken him to meet with Terry Sheridan, as well as fill him in on the situation. Not ten minutes ago Sheridan had been calling out Jackie Estacado... though he still had no real clue as to why. Since meeting up with Sheridan, he'd been re-armed, to words something like this... "I think you'll be needing something more than that pistol McCarthy." He had taken one of the larger sub-machine guns from the Russians, and a few extra nine millimeters, just incase. He was ready to just go in guns blazing, with or without help from mobsters or spies. So to recap he had two 9 mm, his standard, and the sub- machine gun he'd loaned as his big gun. Sure it was one rather heavy thing, and it would make him slow, but the thing could cut through marble like butter, always a plus. He was standing there, he didn't know why, exactly, but he waited. He was not looking forward to going into Irons place and raising cain, but Sara was in there, and in there deep. If she died in there, then he spent sixty eight hours doing shit work for nothing, and he never liked to do a lot for nothing, it was... unfulfilling. He would wait for the word to move out, and he would be at the front of the carnage they would surely cause. Something from the ally he had taken refugee in, a motorcycle? He turned, big gun, which he had... somewhat lovingly started calling "Brenda", facing down the alley, just incase something needed to be cut down, and quickly.

She was almost there, just a little further. Pain threatened her being, but Lara forced it aside. Not this time. Soon the Penthouse of the evil Master Businessman was in sight. The full lips still conveyed her smirk, the smirk of knowing she was doing something bad. Something she shouldn't be doing. The Brit's body pumped adrenaline like blood through her veins, it helped dull the pain for now as the bruised, cut and quite in truth badly battered woman rode through the night avoiding places of complete Darkness as well as any overly busy streets and by-ways. The smell of burnt rubber now reached the helmet-ess woman's nose as a she rounded a corner and there it lay, looming before her like a dark castle. Yes, storm the castle and so she would indeed so be it even alone. She decided it would be best to park away from the place incase Irons was expecting any sort of company. Once she reached a small spot, of an alleyway the bike was quickly drove into it and hidden in shadows for now. Risky sure after all someone or something could see her, but Lara had no choice. Hazel orbs peered around a moment before removing a rope from back of the bike. One of her 'Damn the torpedo, off the cuff' plans were coming about in her now overly alert mind. Sure the Lady had a rather pounding headache, but right now she had other things to worry about. Her black combat boots took her in silence towards an empty balcony of Irons' place. Creating a tight hang man's noose effect at one end of the rope, Lara tossed it skyward, watching as it fell about a pole of the railing decor. The motion had sent a thousand 'sharp knives' through her body, but with gritted teeth and determination the Brit wasn't going to let pain stop her. Pulling downward the rope became secure and Lara began to repel upwards against the wall, staying close to the building as she made her assent. The rope dug into her bare fingers and hands, silently she wished for gloves. No such luck she was going a bit hardcore into this. Once she vaulted herself over the railing, the sore and hurting English woman took a small breathing break before slipping into the place hopefully unnoticed. In her clever mind the layout of Kenneth Irons' -humble- home came into play like a map. Take a right here, a left here six doors down.

The motorcycle powered past the alley and went a longer way around, the obvious feeling of being awaited annoyed him so much. After little time passing, the embodiment that was Jackie Estacado, the newest wielder to The Darkness appeared in plain sight. His motorcycle had taken a drastically high leap from off of a street that curved to form a slight hill. The vigilante appeared to move in slow motion to all as he was suspended in the air. But he was indeed cruising at 170 mph. With precision turning and handling, he would shift the bike to the right side while one wheeling and maintain a steady straight course. With narrowed eyes staring straight through Terry he would pull down hard on the brakes and pull the bike more towards himself, forcing it to stand up straight on one wheel. He shifted his stance and stood on it as it gradually skidded to a stop, barely a couple feet from Terry Sheridan. The display was that of a professional stuntman. The smoke would slowly clear from the area, having covered from the top of the hill to where they now stood. Jackie, pushed the bike down then hopped back onto it, landing rather harshly back onto two wheels. The kick-stand immediately following the fall would shift into position while the beast of a machine tilted to the right side with Jackie secured perfectly on top of it. He said not a word to any of the people around him, but steadily kept his focus on Sheridan... his trigger finger quite itchy at the moment to further note.

Dimitri had done as he said and he looked towards the blonde surfer styled detective between to larger Russian before stepping into the night. He and issued the warning. Now the darkness was near and his lips pursed form shifting, still holding the gun. Eyes focused down the alley as he watched. The spy's form rigid. He needed to play his cards right to get Jackie's envolvement and he knew just the ones to pull. Lara being dead, and Iron's involvement with it. "Nice of you to make it, Jackie.." form shifted while the men in the waiting Hummer looked on. "I don't like you, you don't like me..blah,blah. This is business. As I'm sure your already fully aware that your Penthouse is blasted to itty bitty bits, and Lara's dead. Despite differences, we both at a point loved the same woman, and now look for revenge." The spy glanced back towards Jake a moment, the man had looked almost silly holding the large gun before he turned his attentions back to Jackie. "Iron played his cards, and dealt Sara into his own hands. And I'm not about to let Lara's best mate be killed off by than man an do nothing. Sara did it to protect Lara from the Yakuza..some how Irons knew the strings to pull. The choice is yours." His form shifted and he started walking backwards through the ally still watching Jackie "But as for me I'm going to Irons. ." his head nodded towards the men behind him and they filed into the Hummer as he set up in the passanger seat, before closing the door he called back out into the alley. "And I didn't shoot at a darkling..but I knew the threat would get you here."

Kenneth's gaze matched with his personal bodyguard and his right silvered eyebrow arched skyward. "Intriguing." He replied in retort to his threat. With one swift movement, Kenneth grabbed a fistful of Pezzini's hair dragging her to her feet. He had spun her about cupping her jaw in one hand and twisting her arm up behind her back. "Don't make me break you're doll Ian. You more then anyone know that I'm capable." Although it was nearly the worst pain she had ever felt, Sara rested her weight onto her legs, the ruined knee screamed in agony she saw white and red spots before her eyes. Her hands clawed at Irons' wrists as she fought for release. Normally in this situation, Sara would have back kicked the brute in the knee and grated her foot down the top of the shin shattering the bone and the top of the foot.. As it unfolded now, she was barely able to stand. "Ian. Unnngh. don't he's able to.." she groaned blinking back the reflexive tears of pain as Kenneth tightened his grip and began to drag her out of the room and into the parlor. "As if your pithily warning would save him." he smiled evilly and neared the bar. "Come on Ian. push me. Lets see how much better you fair this time." Kenneth remembered that he was able to beat Nottingham one handed (literally) when the pair took him on, he doubted the assassin would fair much better now that he was restored.

The sky was dark, violent just as the night was about to become. Everything seemed to be building to this moment and there was no turning back now. He couldn't, he wouldn't. when he was in the hummer he talked solmnly towards Jake, informing him about Sara and why he'd sent Dimitri to fetch him, breath pulled from his lips as he looking into the rear view mirror to look at the detective. "I plan on putting all of our lives at risk. If you don't want to be involved you can leave as soon as we're there." Then the spy fell silent.The Hummer moved forwards while other large SUV's and vans had joined up with them from both directions heading straight towards Iron's place. "This is prolly the ruddy most, stupid hafl loaded bloody idea I've ever 'ad." His voice muttered while they turned towards the front gates. Indeed Dimitri's men were ready, they'd be pulling out all the stops. Some of the SUV's moved out the outer parameters of the estate, men already moving over the walls. And Dimitri rolled down the window to the guard who was coming out of the guard shack. "DO you have an appointment with Mister Irons?" Dimitri looked over towards Sheridan "Vell, Comrade? Do ve have an appointment?" Sheridan gave a coy nod. "I believe we do, mate." And Dimitri lifted a gun and put it out the window "Ah, yes, here is out appointment." Two shots rang out, the first taking down the guard standing there the other the guard who was inside the booth. "Hang on, Comrade." The engine of the Hummer roared to life once again and Dimitri floored it, slamming straight through the front gates. Sparks and bits of it flying everywhere. Sheridan had no doubts in his mind that Iron's systems were going crazy now. As would be the moniters in the apartment. Picking up the movement of the mobilized men now already to work against Iron's own. The Hummer slammed through potted plants heading straight for the front door. "Its like the old days in Mother Russia!" and there was a hearty laugh from the man as he put more gas into it and into the front of the house. Wall was crumbling and falling as the men were piling out, Terry shook his head and moved, two 9mms first in his hands. Moving his left down aimed to the hallway where a man came rushing out. Bang. And the man fell right were he was. Dimitri shot up and sparks showered them along with bits of camera. "Camera makes you look ten times fatter, Comrade." He looked to Sheridan and lowered his gun, putting a hand out. Sheridan put one of his guns in its place and took his hand shaking it heartily. Dimitri spoke in Russian then once again in English. "In blood and in death, brothers." There was a nod from him as Dimitri turned one hall and Sheridan worked his way towards the room Sara was being kept in. he'd been close and he knew exactly where he was going. A door opened just before him and he pulled back just as a bullet ripped though the wall next to him. One of Iron's inside men was now rushing towards Sheridan and his own shot fired. The man stopped holding his chest for a moment the gun still pointed at Sheridan his trigger finger twitched quickly and the man fell forwards landing on the ground in a heap. His boots moved stepping over the man in the hall pressing his back against the wall next to Sara's room. Now to make his move.

He smirked as he looked to Irons, only taking his gaze off of him for a moment to see Excalibur on his wrist, the reflection of metal being able to be seen in the light. "Possibly. For you see, I think I've come to a revelation." He says, moving ever so slightly closer to Irons and Sara. "I've decided that my relationship with you is no longer being fruitful. There's really nothing in it for me, anymore, and I think it's time to end it." He says, continuing to move closer. "and I think the best way to end it, is with this sword, going through your neck." He says, the flashes of lightning getting more and more apparent in the night sky. And as soon as the next blinding flash hit, Ian was in the air, flying towards Irons in a vicious jump kick straight for his face, almost being a blur.

Jackie looked off to the side then just covered his face for a moment. Was Sheridan serious?!? It seemed that Jackie would fall apart now... another key player in his life was taken down. How many more times would he endure this, he was running short on emotions to go off of and if what Terry said was true then Jackie would bare a fierce looking scar of hatred and drag a trail of bloodshed with every strep he'd soon take. No more stops, no more games... it was time to get more serious than ever. His code was never to kill on personal terms because it took the professionalism out of his work but now... It was way beyond personal. Jackie closed his eyes tight and said nothing. His right hand twitched a few times, his fingers bouncing up and down before he took a tight grip on the handle and pushed it forwards. The kick-stand was pushed back up and with that the bike released forwards then twirled around in a full 360 spin before jetting off beyond the view of those in the trucks. Jackie's eyes blazed now, and his hands clenched on the handle tighter than ever before, his body low to the bike. It'd take him definitely no time at all to gte himself into the speeds of 190 mph forced through by Sheridan already. Jackie wasted no time in following behind. He didn't know what Sheridan was plotting but he had his own personal approach on things.

Ok so he was on edge, and not a soul here could blame him. The bike never came, and he sighed a bit. There was nothing to do but wiat, and apparently that was exactly what they were doing, waiting. He turned back and began to walk toward Sherridan, and then he heard that same sound, a motorcycle roaring from nowhere. He stood and watched, ands listened to the exchange between Sherridan and Esticado. He saw all of the men getting ready for the ensueinf war, and he turned away and begujn to trod off, on his own, towards the Mansion/Castle of Irons. He wasn't going to "work" with the mob or mafia or whatever they called themselves, but he would just happen to be in the same place, at the same time... not to mention the fact that he was using thier weaponry. He was going to do this part, at least, his way. He was going to make one helluvan entrance, and with Brenda in tow... sparks were bound to fly. He was gonna create a little diversion, by merely mowing down anyone that he saw. He was slowly trodding off, and knew that the group of heavily armed russians would pass him by soon enough, but he was planning on it actually. Would you guard the back entrance, when there ere a dozen heavily armed men beating on the front one? Suddenly he thought back to the things that Sherridan had told him not so long before. "Risking our lives here? Who would have thunk it?" He chuckled a bit to himself, and then he heard all hell breaking loose, ok so it was only a few shots, but it took out the guard that watching his route. In not long he was standing around the back, just beneath a dangling rope, but there was no way he was going to climb it with the mini-gun he was packing. There was a large window next to him, and peeked through it for a moment. "Noone home... at least not in this neck of the woods." He looked around a bit, found a nice "Little" rock. "Knock Knock... I know your home." With that little remark the rock shattered the window and he climed quickly through. Ok... not the "secretive" approach, but it worked well enough. In a matter of seconds a pair of guards rounded the corner into what he could only call the "pool hall" since it had a pool table, or maybe it was billiards, but who cared. He lifted Brenda level with the two men's knees and squeezed the full handle trigger, mowing the two down in a hail of bullets, and only a feww seconds. "Damn... noone warned me how much kick this little baby had.... Time to take the party... to the partiers." He hoofed it out into the hall, and came face to face with another group of guards, ok group... maybe not, but there were two of them, were bieng the operative word there. He mowed them down, and made his way down the hall. "PEZ! The rescue squad is here to save the day!" He was shouting, not like it would "blow his cover" or anything.