A Family Affair
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. They are the property of Top Cow, TNT, etc. I'm just playing. Enjoy!
Chapter 9.
Ian Nottingham rode the subway back to where he'd left his car a few blocks from Stuyvesant High School. He had decided that he had enough time to retrieve the vehicle and then return to the vicinity of Stuyvesant Town to await Sara's next move. Ian could sense that she was still there inside Amanda's apartment and that she was nervous and upset, which was a slight improvement over the righteous anger and impatience he had perceived through their bond a short while ago.
He kept thinking about the last thing Joseph Siri, Jr. had said to him: "She'll never respect you if you give up without a fight."
It would seem that Ian had his work cut out for him because he hadn't the foggiest idea how to go about defeating the mistrust and loathing the beautiful Wielder felt whenever she laid eyes on him. Safely shepherding her precocious nephew to their appointed meeting place had definitely been a step in the right direction, but Ian had the feeling that Sara Pezzini's goodwill toward him for obediently fulfilling that duty would not last very long. The unpleasant showdown between Joseph's girlfriend and herself had most likely eroded any sense of gratitude the Wielder might have felt.
As he emerged from the subway, his cell phone vibrated and Ian winced as he realized that he had neglected to call his master with the promised updates since they had last spoken that morning. Kenneth Irons would not be pleased that it was he who had been forced to call Ian again.
"Yes, Master?"
"Ian, did I not order you to keep me apprised of developments arising from this morning's events?" Kenneth Irons' mellifluous voice was deceptively mild.
"Yes, Master."
"Then why is it that I am calling you instead of the other way around? I find it extremely difficult to believe that nothing has occurred between now and the last time we spoke."
"My apologies, Master. I allowed myself to become . . . distracted."
"Hmmm. I will decide on an appropriate punishment when you return home for the evening. Report."
"As I am sure you are aware, the Witchblade gave the Wielder a vision."
"Yes, I sensed it as, apparently, did you."
"Yes. Several hours after she had the vision, the Wielder left the precinct and headed toward her nephew's school. I followed then approached her in an attempt to persuade her to tell me what the vision had shown her. As usual, she was uncooperative, but she did reveal that the drug dealer who had threatened her nephew is dead. He was killed by two shots to the head last night. The Wielder also admitted that the vision showed her his killer."
"Interesting. Continue."
"Detective Pezzini then met up with her nephew, and I overheard her tell him that preliminary tests on the weapon she gave the ME showed that the gun had been fired recently. Two bullets were missing. As I surmised, the boy did not tell his aunt the whole story about what transpired last night. He confessed to her that after he disarmed the drug dealer, his girlfriend managed to wrest the weapon away from him. At gunpoint, she forced the dealer to give her his supply of drugs and the drug money he had collected thus far. The girl fired two shots, one to show she meant business and the other to scare the dealer off. Apparently, the man immediately returned to his supplier and reported his misfortune. It seems that this incensed the supplier, who I suspect then killed the dealer because of his ineptitude."
"Has the ME reported her findings on the weapon yet?"
"Possibly. In all likelihood, her tests will show that there are three sets of prints on the weapon: the drug dealer's, the boy's, and the girl's. This is cause for concern for the Wielder, because apparently the murder weapon is virtually identical to the gun the ME has. Suspicion will undoubtedly fall on the boy and his girlfriend unless ballistics can prove that the gun they handled was not the murder weapon. I believe the Wielder is now going to try and apprehend the dealer's supplier in the hopes of recovering the murder weapon so that she can clear her nephew's name."
"Unquestionably that will be her next course of action. She is nothing if not predictable. Where is the Wielder now?"
"She is confronting the girlfriend at her home. I believe Detective Pezzini intends to convince her to hand over the drugs and money and then turn herself in. Her nephew is with her and is cooperating with her effort."
"Stay close to Sara, Ian. But after she retires for the night, return home." Kenneth Irons said, and then hung up.
Ian sighed as he pocketed his phone. He was not fooled by the lack of anger in his master's beautifully modulated voice. Irons was furious with him. Ian had failed in his duty and would therefore accept whatever punishment his master saw fit to bestow upon him.
Honor demanded that he confess that he had disobeyed his master's direct orders not once, but twice: first by abandoning the Wielder in order to escort her nephew to his girlfriend's home simply out of an ill- conceived desire to please her, and secondly by failing to keep his master apprised of events in a timely manner because, as he had already admitted, he had allowed himself to become distracted by thoughts of her.
This would in no way mitigate the harshness of his punishment -- in fact, it would probably exacerbate it -- but it was the least Ian could do to make up for the shameful neglect of his duties. As a rule, his master saw to it that the punishment fit the transgression, but lately Irons' hand had been heavier than usual as he took out his frustration over his ongoing failure to seduce the Wielder on his hapless servant.
However, Ian decided that he would keep his enlightening conversation with Joseph Siri, Jr. to himself. This tiny act of rebellion did not cause him any guilt whatsoever. He was not foolish enough to delude himself into believing that he had any chance at all of winning the battle for the Wielder's affections.
Kenneth Irons was famous for his effortless, erudite charm and sexual exploits. His conquests, both male and female, were legion, whereas Ian's monkish existence and lifelong conditioning of subservience to Irons saw to it that he would always be socially awkward and emotionally repressed. No, Ian could not hope to compete with his master in the art of seduction. But he would not do anything to aid him in his quest either.
He knew that Irons cared nothing for Sara Pezzini the woman. All he cared about was controlling the Witchblade, and he saw seducing its Wielder as a means to this end. Given his innate sense of honor, Ian found this repugnant. In his mind, the two -- Sara and the Witchblade -- were inextricably intertwined. He was her protector and stalwart champion because she was the Wielder, and throughout the ancient weapon's storied past there had always been one such as he. That the Lady Sara also happened to be beautiful, intelligent, brave, and honorable was pure luck. True, most of the Witchblade's Wielders had possessed extraordinary physical beauty, but not all of them were as conscientious and principled as Sara Pezzini was. In fact, more than one had been bloodthirsty, morally corrupt tyrants. After all, in ancient times, the Witchblade's primary function had been as a conquering weapon.
Yet, Sara insisted on using it to do only good, and Kenneth Irons was not at all pleased by this. Ian knew that if the Blade had allowed men to wield it, as it once was rumored to have done, and if Irons had been accepted by it as a true Wielder, he would not have been nearly as judicious in his usage of the weapon and the awesome power it gave him. Rather, he would have reveled in the Witchblade's legendary capacity for unleashing chaos and violence on an unsuspecting populace.
So, Ian resolved to continue to fight to gain the current Wielder's trust and respect. He would find a way to prove that he was worthy of her esteem, even though he knew he would never win her love. He told himself that it would be enough if she came to realize that he had her back and would willingly fight to the death defending her.
Involuntarily, his hand once again came to rest on the spot near his heart where his Lady's fist had made physical contact, and he tried in vain to make himself forget how that fleeting, careless touch had made his soul sing.
More to come. Feedback, as always, is much appreciated.
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. They are the property of Top Cow, TNT, etc. I'm just playing. Enjoy!
Chapter 9.
Ian Nottingham rode the subway back to where he'd left his car a few blocks from Stuyvesant High School. He had decided that he had enough time to retrieve the vehicle and then return to the vicinity of Stuyvesant Town to await Sara's next move. Ian could sense that she was still there inside Amanda's apartment and that she was nervous and upset, which was a slight improvement over the righteous anger and impatience he had perceived through their bond a short while ago.
He kept thinking about the last thing Joseph Siri, Jr. had said to him: "She'll never respect you if you give up without a fight."
It would seem that Ian had his work cut out for him because he hadn't the foggiest idea how to go about defeating the mistrust and loathing the beautiful Wielder felt whenever she laid eyes on him. Safely shepherding her precocious nephew to their appointed meeting place had definitely been a step in the right direction, but Ian had the feeling that Sara Pezzini's goodwill toward him for obediently fulfilling that duty would not last very long. The unpleasant showdown between Joseph's girlfriend and herself had most likely eroded any sense of gratitude the Wielder might have felt.
As he emerged from the subway, his cell phone vibrated and Ian winced as he realized that he had neglected to call his master with the promised updates since they had last spoken that morning. Kenneth Irons would not be pleased that it was he who had been forced to call Ian again.
"Yes, Master?"
"Ian, did I not order you to keep me apprised of developments arising from this morning's events?" Kenneth Irons' mellifluous voice was deceptively mild.
"Yes, Master."
"Then why is it that I am calling you instead of the other way around? I find it extremely difficult to believe that nothing has occurred between now and the last time we spoke."
"My apologies, Master. I allowed myself to become . . . distracted."
"Hmmm. I will decide on an appropriate punishment when you return home for the evening. Report."
"As I am sure you are aware, the Witchblade gave the Wielder a vision."
"Yes, I sensed it as, apparently, did you."
"Yes. Several hours after she had the vision, the Wielder left the precinct and headed toward her nephew's school. I followed then approached her in an attempt to persuade her to tell me what the vision had shown her. As usual, she was uncooperative, but she did reveal that the drug dealer who had threatened her nephew is dead. He was killed by two shots to the head last night. The Wielder also admitted that the vision showed her his killer."
"Interesting. Continue."
"Detective Pezzini then met up with her nephew, and I overheard her tell him that preliminary tests on the weapon she gave the ME showed that the gun had been fired recently. Two bullets were missing. As I surmised, the boy did not tell his aunt the whole story about what transpired last night. He confessed to her that after he disarmed the drug dealer, his girlfriend managed to wrest the weapon away from him. At gunpoint, she forced the dealer to give her his supply of drugs and the drug money he had collected thus far. The girl fired two shots, one to show she meant business and the other to scare the dealer off. Apparently, the man immediately returned to his supplier and reported his misfortune. It seems that this incensed the supplier, who I suspect then killed the dealer because of his ineptitude."
"Has the ME reported her findings on the weapon yet?"
"Possibly. In all likelihood, her tests will show that there are three sets of prints on the weapon: the drug dealer's, the boy's, and the girl's. This is cause for concern for the Wielder, because apparently the murder weapon is virtually identical to the gun the ME has. Suspicion will undoubtedly fall on the boy and his girlfriend unless ballistics can prove that the gun they handled was not the murder weapon. I believe the Wielder is now going to try and apprehend the dealer's supplier in the hopes of recovering the murder weapon so that she can clear her nephew's name."
"Unquestionably that will be her next course of action. She is nothing if not predictable. Where is the Wielder now?"
"She is confronting the girlfriend at her home. I believe Detective Pezzini intends to convince her to hand over the drugs and money and then turn herself in. Her nephew is with her and is cooperating with her effort."
"Stay close to Sara, Ian. But after she retires for the night, return home." Kenneth Irons said, and then hung up.
Ian sighed as he pocketed his phone. He was not fooled by the lack of anger in his master's beautifully modulated voice. Irons was furious with him. Ian had failed in his duty and would therefore accept whatever punishment his master saw fit to bestow upon him.
Honor demanded that he confess that he had disobeyed his master's direct orders not once, but twice: first by abandoning the Wielder in order to escort her nephew to his girlfriend's home simply out of an ill- conceived desire to please her, and secondly by failing to keep his master apprised of events in a timely manner because, as he had already admitted, he had allowed himself to become distracted by thoughts of her.
This would in no way mitigate the harshness of his punishment -- in fact, it would probably exacerbate it -- but it was the least Ian could do to make up for the shameful neglect of his duties. As a rule, his master saw to it that the punishment fit the transgression, but lately Irons' hand had been heavier than usual as he took out his frustration over his ongoing failure to seduce the Wielder on his hapless servant.
However, Ian decided that he would keep his enlightening conversation with Joseph Siri, Jr. to himself. This tiny act of rebellion did not cause him any guilt whatsoever. He was not foolish enough to delude himself into believing that he had any chance at all of winning the battle for the Wielder's affections.
Kenneth Irons was famous for his effortless, erudite charm and sexual exploits. His conquests, both male and female, were legion, whereas Ian's monkish existence and lifelong conditioning of subservience to Irons saw to it that he would always be socially awkward and emotionally repressed. No, Ian could not hope to compete with his master in the art of seduction. But he would not do anything to aid him in his quest either.
He knew that Irons cared nothing for Sara Pezzini the woman. All he cared about was controlling the Witchblade, and he saw seducing its Wielder as a means to this end. Given his innate sense of honor, Ian found this repugnant. In his mind, the two -- Sara and the Witchblade -- were inextricably intertwined. He was her protector and stalwart champion because she was the Wielder, and throughout the ancient weapon's storied past there had always been one such as he. That the Lady Sara also happened to be beautiful, intelligent, brave, and honorable was pure luck. True, most of the Witchblade's Wielders had possessed extraordinary physical beauty, but not all of them were as conscientious and principled as Sara Pezzini was. In fact, more than one had been bloodthirsty, morally corrupt tyrants. After all, in ancient times, the Witchblade's primary function had been as a conquering weapon.
Yet, Sara insisted on using it to do only good, and Kenneth Irons was not at all pleased by this. Ian knew that if the Blade had allowed men to wield it, as it once was rumored to have done, and if Irons had been accepted by it as a true Wielder, he would not have been nearly as judicious in his usage of the weapon and the awesome power it gave him. Rather, he would have reveled in the Witchblade's legendary capacity for unleashing chaos and violence on an unsuspecting populace.
So, Ian resolved to continue to fight to gain the current Wielder's trust and respect. He would find a way to prove that he was worthy of her esteem, even though he knew he would never win her love. He told himself that it would be enough if she came to realize that he had her back and would willingly fight to the death defending her.
Involuntarily, his hand once again came to rest on the spot near his heart where his Lady's fist had made physical contact, and he tried in vain to make himself forget how that fleeting, careless touch had made his soul sing.
More to come. Feedback, as always, is much appreciated.