Disclaimer: Witchblade, Pretender, Highlander, Dark Angel, Buffy and Angel and the related characters do not belong to me, I am making no money off them. Nottingham can come and stalk me anytime he's free, though. Any characters you don't recognize are mine.
Author's Note: For any of you who just discovered this, don't worry too much about the multiple universes in one story. It flows pretty well and this story (part of a larger planned epic series) is rooted mainly in the Witchblade world, with the main pairings Nottingham & OC, Sara & Jake. Rating is for mild violence and language. Italics signify thought, emphasis or vision. One row of Xs means change of POV, two mean change of scene.
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Alleyway off 11th Street
New York, NY
Monday, July 23, 2001
11:11 am
A white vortex formed in the alleyway, ten feet above the ground. A homeless woman watched, mouth agape, as out of the swirling lights fell a young man, brown hair cut military-short. He stood up immediately, jogging to a parked car. Getting in, he hot-wired the car before slamming the door shut. Right then, a young woman fell out of the vortex, which disappeared before she had even landed. She got up and dusted herself off. Glancing around, she noticed the man in the car just as he drove out of the alleyway.
"Marcus!" she yelled. Noticing the homeless woman, she quickly asked, "Please, which direction is the police station?"
Without a word, the woman pointed the direction the man had gone. With a soft "thank you," the young woman from the vortex took off after the car, going just as fast on foot as the vehicle had. The homeless woman reached into the shopping cart and pulled out a bottle of gin. Shaking her head, she poured it out, putting the empty bottle in her bag of cans to sell to the recycling center.
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Simultaneously ...Sara Pezzini looked down at her right wrist. The Stone on the Witchblade was swirling with light, and it was whispering non-words in her head. It was excited about something, but even when she focused solely on the bracelet, it wouldn't show her what the big deal was. Sighing, she jotted down the address of a crime scene she wanted to double-check and grabbed her leather jacket and her helmet. There was no way she'd be able to concentrate on paperwork right now.
Kenneth Irons stopped in the middle of his sentence and stared at his right hand. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, the two overlapping circles on his hand standing out in stark relief. Something strange had just happened. It was almost as if the Blade was ... happy.
Ian Nottingham parked his car and tried to dislodge the odd feeling floating in his chest. It was the strangest feeling. He had the strongest urge to start wandering around looking for someone. As if he had been waiting for someone and they were close by now. Glancing over at the police precinct building, he suppressed the sensation. He had a job to do.
In a warehouse across town from Vorschlag Industries, a young woman with white-blonde hair sat up abruptly. She had been sleeping, but she was now fully alert. The room she stayed in had no windows, and the only light in the room was a soft red glow. She sighed, equal parts relieved and anxious. It had begun.