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Post by Sara Pezzini on Jun 14, 2004 19:47:40 GMT -5
“No one deserves pain… But sometimes we have to give up the things we…” she paused before saying the obvious line and then held back the words by offering an alternate, “…the things we care about for a greater cause. Sara wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand angrily drying the tears that shamed her, and revealed her weakness; the drill sergeant in her head winning this round on her emotions. She looked surprised at the handkerchief, and for a moment Sara didn’t react. Although calm and collected, the officer was impressed at his display of compassion; truly Everett was a gentleman. “If you’re going to apologize this quickly you aren’t going to be any fun to play with.” Sara smiled weakly at her little joke. Her eyes watered a little, but this time it wasn’t pain that brought the welling. Swallowing hard her eyes matched with Everett’s and then as she felt her vulnerable openness, cast them down. Her hand took the cloth, dabbing at what remained of the moisture on her face.
The long strides echoing the hallway, the chestnut-haired detective turned dropping the silken cloth as she ran toward Sheridan. The pain was momentarily numbed, and the Witchblade actually spoke kindly to her for the first time about the secret agent. <<This moment of respite I give to you, my chosen. A relief it is to feel your heart unburdened…>> the gems shifted in place, the main red stone shrinking down in size, while the lesser of the three, the white stone grew in size and took the dominant position on her wrist. It was evident in her entire from as she went from a pained expression and tiny gasping breaths to a full faced smile and thankful joyous laughter. With bright eyes Sara locked her sights on Terry and upon meeting with him said nothing, her actions speaking the loudest.
Slender hands took either side of his jaw, and her mouth sought out his. This time instead of hunger or passion, her kisses projected her genuine care and perhaps love? – No, Pezzini doesn’t love does she? But there it was, as plain as the nose on her face. And even if she’d hesitated admitting it to Everett it was clear. Detective Sara Pezzini had fallen, hard. “Terry I’m so glad you’re alive, when they attacked and I saw you go down I was… I thought…” She held herself against his torso, as if reassuring herself that he was really standing there, alive and in her arms. She’d almost forgotten Everett was in the room until he began to speak again. “If you really think they would attack us again after what you told the department… Oh Gods do you think they’ll go after Jake?” Sara excused herself and went to use the telephone, calling her partner McCarthy and informing him of what had happened, (Leaving out the part about ‘what’ she and Sheridan were doing) and then returned to find that Sheridan had decided that yes, perhaps the hotel was a good idea.
~
The hotel room was more then she expected. Was this gigantic room really supposed to accommodate only two people?! It was bigger then her apartment, and far more elaborate. As she drifted off to sleep her arm draped across Sheridan’s torso, she could already feel the Witchblade beginning to unfurl up her arm to mend her injuries. In the back of her mind she hoped he was sleeping, but still she knew she had to tell him, had to explain about the blade and what it was so that he wouldn’t fear her. And even if he did… at least she was going to be honest with him.
Blinking against the morning rays of sun Sara stretched her frame like a cat and thankfully this time it wasn’t causing her pain. The Witchblade had reverted to its original state sometime in the night and at least for the moment all was content with the world. Her hair was splayed out across the soft pillow in gentle waves, her skin was blushed with the pink of health, especially at the curve of her cheeks, and as she shifted her figure amid the blankets they twisted and stretched across her figure, revealing her curves though they barely covered her mid-section.
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Post by Terry Sheridan on Jun 14, 2004 22:08:12 GMT -5
His weight shifted for a moment as he came upon the pair as Sara reacted, arms wrapping around the detective. Holding her he glanced towards Boswell as he almost shied away. A slight hmm pulled against his lips as he studied. As boys in school, the group had competitions about getting the girls from the boarding school down the road. Sheridan was usually the winner, even striking up the fancy of the girls Everett usually sought. Though still the man remained composed. I wondered what sort of memories were flooding to his mind.
Directing his attentions towards Sara he met her lips with his own as she searched for them, hands sliding against the cloth. ‘Shh, Love it takes a lot more than a clock on the head to take care of me.” He wasn’t sure where Chase had gone off too, probably getting ready if they took up the offer of the hotel. When Sara left to call, Jake he spoke up slightly. “Well if your paying Boswell.” The spy smirked slightly and patted the other man heartily against the back. Following the other MI-6 agent out he took one more glance towards Everett as he went on his own way.
Saying good night to Chase, they settled into the large room. “Good ol’ Bos never skimps out on his holiday even if there’s business involved.” Hands ran through Sara’s hair as he kissed her cheek. I’m sure Jake will be fine. Those blokes wanted me, and you were caught in the crossfire.” His tone took a bit of seriousness I’m a dangerous man to be around, I wouldn’t want you hurt, because of what ever reasons people find against me.”<br> His hand slid down her arm taking her hand walking towards the bed sitting on it. “Boswell’s the reason I’m here.” Even after everything he’d done to the man, he still treated him as a mate, almost like a brother. Pulling off his shirt and removing the boots he laid back in the bed, still in his jeans. They hadn’t stopped to get anything, and they’d been told to put whatever breakfast or items they needed on his personal tab.
Sleep hadn’t every really found him, his mind mulled over things, over Sara. The Witchblade. He knew some about it, but he hadn’t make his knowledge known, nor had she shared the fact. It was his first mistake, like in most relationships, there was something the other was keeping. Shifting fingers rubbed back and forth over the arm that lie across his torso, the other folded up behind his head.
Morning came and he stretched looking towards the window before looking towards Sara. Still he was a bit sore with the men that ruined his evening with the lovely woman. He’d make up for that later. Rolling over to his side he propped his head up. “So shall we order some breakfast? Champagne and Strawberries with some cream… a few toasted crumpets and marmalade, I can ring room service. Feeling up to it?” After all they both had a bit of a stressful night. And Sheridan wanted to put it past him.
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Kenneth Irons
Patrolman
"I have been generous until now, but I can be cruel."
Posts: 37
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Post by Kenneth Irons on Jun 16, 2004 15:21:48 GMT -5
“If Sheridan’s morals can be corrupted by the weight of a purse, then what do you imagine will turn his fancy? I overheard the devil during a conversation, and if my ears did not deceive me he said, ‘vanity is my favorite sin’. Vanity, which is a form of pride, is Satan’s favorite sin, because it lies at the root and foundation of every other sin. What if that vanity were challenged in some way…” The multibillionaire continued to walk with Boswell, listening to his suggestions. Like a boy in a toy shop his face lit up.
“An excellent idea, to pit the women against each other,” Ken shared a wicked grin with Boswell. “I find it cleverly ironic that Sheridan, the thorn in both our sides, should play such an intricate role in our scheme to diametrically separate them.” He seemed to ponder the twist of fate and then shook his head to dismiss the thought that somehow the six degrees of separation was anything more, since it was he who set the machine into motion. “Take heed however, in your pursuit for Miss. Pezzini. She’s as abstruse and mystifying as the Witchblade’s tenebrous hold is on her. Be careful that she does not find solace in her partner – McCarthy’s encounter with Excalibur was a most heinous loss, and like Sheridan he will not walk in Eden for much longer.”
Irons squinted against the now stronger rays of sunlight, the intense silver in his eyes reflecting like a ravenous animal. “Yes, Nottingham was chosen for Excalibur.” These words seemed to hold bitterness, and it was all too obvious. Irons had wanted the legendary weapon for his own. “But he quickly learned the error of his subjugation.” Turning to the caddy Kenneth plucked up his pitching wedge and sized up the distance to the green. “In regards to getting Sara to trust you, I would suggest you give her what she’s always desired. The solidarity a scoundrel like Sheridan could never offer.” Irons took his swing, and with a surge of pleasure, watched the small white ball drop into the cup, one under Par.
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Lara Croft
Sergeant
You know I can't resist a bit of fun.
Posts: 53
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Post by Lara Croft on Jun 16, 2004 16:25:37 GMT -5
Her world turned for a moment, the shock overwhelming. Why did Kenneth Irons have a picture of her Mother? Brows furrowed at this, anger welled. Was this one of his secrets? Lara was determened to know everything now, surely a man like Irons kept journals and writings. Turning on her bare heel, the Brit headed back to her room to dress, she wanted answers and she would get them one way or the other. She had left the broken picture to lay there, not caring if Irons himself got a load of it or not. Had he really expected her not to find it? Honestly. Selecting a dark blue shirt, jeans and a pair of boots, Lara exited her room back into the hallway once more.
Silently she wished that her lock-pick kit was within her possession currently as it would be rather handy for what she was up to. With cat-like grace, Lara moved back into the study/library and over to the desk again careful not to step on any broken glass. Hery hazel stare moved around all points of the room, eying for cameras or any other suspicious objects; seeing none, the Tomb Raider settled herself into the plush leather desk chair. Eyes sweeped across the objects before her: flat screen computer, pencil/pen holder, mail stacked on one corner, letter openner, and a day planner one of those large ones that are common with business men. Eyes moved back to the computer, perhaps she should begin there? No... why would anyone like Kenneth Irons place memories on a computer?
" Hm." Taking a quick glance towards the door, Lara moved the mouse of the computer around and almost instantly a password box popped up," I wonder." Without haste she typed in the name " Vivian ". Sure enough the screen changed and the Brit found herself staring at complete access of Kenneth Irons' files. With a grin, Lara proceeded to look about within the man's files, however all she found was bill records, business dealings( the majority of those susipicious in nature) and e-mails. Also information pulled off line about the Witchblade. With a sigh, the Brit closed the man's computer back up and eyed the desk drawers, it wouldn't hurt to look would it? Of course not.
Carefully she moved to pull one of the drawers open, but found it locked," Bugger." Eyes flecked with brown and green scanned the desk and fell with a smirk apon a collection of paperclips. Perfect. Ten seconds later the desk was unlocked and Lara was flipping through files, hard copies, another planner and then she found it... an obvious journal, a record of Kenneth Irons' over the years. Leaning back in the desk chair, Lara made herself comfortable and began to read, boots tossed up to rest apon the desktop. For the most part she merely scanned the pages, pausing only to read the sections that bared her Mother's and Father's name. All this was very interesting, he had been in love with her mother, and that would explain his sudden fasincation in her. Sick bastard.
Closing the volume, and replacing it back where she had found it Lara eyed the phone setting atop the desk. Eyes then fell apon the man's planner, the larger one atop his desk. Without a second thought the Archeaologist began to thumb through it in search of a cell phone number," There we are." Sure enough, location apon the personal information page was indeed a cell number. Picking up the phone, Lara dialed the number and waited, soon the man answered and with a unamused smirk she spoke," I know your secret." And then promptly hung up and simply waited.
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Post by Sara Pezzini on Jun 16, 2004 16:40:13 GMT -5
“Hmm… Breakfast,” She murmured sleepily until her mind caught up with itself. Sara’s eye flashed open wildly at the sound of Terry’s voice murmuring in her ear, and quickly she went into panic mode. “Holy hell what time it?!” She reached across Sheridan for the small brass alarm clock tilting it on its miniscule claw feet as she read the time. “I gotta go. I’m late.” She kissed Sheridan quickly on the lips, and flung the sheets aside. Bare feet padded hither and thither as she scrambled for clothes. Thankfully her discarded belongings had been brought to the hotel room via Everett’s men, so with almost military speed, she was pulling herself together so she could get herself to work.
Sara strapped her snub nose .357 to her side, and tucked the backup Walther PPK into a secondary holster at the small of her back. On days like this the detective longed for a third weapon. In the aftermath of an attack her thoughts always turned to times when she had lost co-workers and friends… the attack on the department by Tora No Shi… the Twin Towers attack… and especially the incident six months ago at the Museum of Natural Science. “I’m sorry Terry… Oh don’t give me that look!” She was grinning as she ripped her fingertips though her honey kissed locks of brown, pulling them into a ponytail.
To be frank, Sara wasn’t sure if she had work or not, but she knew that the questions regarding the Witchblade were soon to arise and she was hesitant in the light of the new day, as to if she should tell him or not. It was pretty clear that her injuries were healed, but she pretended that it was still ailing her some, wincing here and covering the “broken bones” with her off hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed her hands reached down and she began to lace up her boots.
A voice from her past echoed in her head. ~ flashback begins ~
“You get right back in this bed.” Sara groaned and continued to get up. “Aw … Irish foreplay.” He quirked a brow with a serious expression. “You know you can't resist. Call in sick and save yourself the walk downstairs." Sara giggled like a schoolgirl “You're a cocky bastard.” Connor cracked a smile, “Aye, that I am. Seriously, you'll walk downstairs and think, "What in God's name am I doing?" Then you'll have to race back up, peel off all those clothes, and climb back in here.”
Sara finished dressing, hops up on the bed, kissing the handsome smirking lips as she tried her best to keep hers from breaking into too broad a smile. “I gotta go. Jake's picking me up.” He pulled back mocking jealously. “Another man then, is it?” Sara again laughed, “Try and save yourself, would ya?" Sara kissed him again, and then sat on the edge of the bed to strap on her weapons. “Quit the force Sara.”
She was freshly acquainted with the Witchblade in those first few months. She was also freshly acquainted with the Irishman lying amid her blankets. He was handsome in that rugged sort of way bad boys tended to be. Tattoos, a drinking habit, and the most infectious grin she’d ever laid her eyes upon. “What and become a degenerate like you?” Sara shot back winking. This morning was like every other morning for the detective. Her afternoon shift started at 12 PM, and already she was pushing the envelope by staying in bed as late as she had. “Mmmm… You are a degenerate like me. Sleep till noon, stay out late. Drive the little boys wild. Sides, Aye might get a little jealous. After all a man could have dreams about being arrested by you. The handcuffs ...assume the position...”
Sara grinned and walked toward the door. “I’ll see you in a few hours Connor.” The tattooed man rolled over onto his stomach and called out to her. “I'm warning you. You're helpless. You're completely under me thrall.” He waggled his fingers at her like a stage mesmerist. And she shook her head. “dinner at seven Don’t worry I won’t be late.”
~ flashback ends ~
That had been the last time she’d seen him alive. And as she sat here with Sheridan her mind started to read into the possibilities that it was happening all over again.
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Post by Everett Boswell on Jun 16, 2004 17:51:02 GMT -5
His lips curled a moment making the scar all that more present, as Iorns spoke of Sheridan and of vanity. Ah yes, vanity, he knew it well. “Sheridan thrives on his conquests outside of and within the bedroom. Croft.” His words were simple, yes he knew of the spy and the tomb raiders past. Shoulders rolled slightly as he continued on, “If it’s vanity we choose to exploit, she may be the key.” He thought of his own encounters with Sheridan and women, even the woman who was supposed to love him. Betrayed, and thus he was now becoming the betrayer.
“I’m known to have my moments, besides our form of wickedness is like an art form, a craft. Anyone can simply run around with a bomb strapped to their chest.” He despised the stupidity of those like that. “It will take subtly in the matter of Sara, something that Sheridan does not often dwell highly on.” His ungloved hand moved slicking back his dark hair. As always he looked of an English Gentleman, well groomed and poised. With a slight nod he watched Kenneth, seasoned with golf, Everett was quick to pick up on as the pink sound of the ball falling into the cup. Handing his club back to the caddy he clapped lightly fingertips barely hitting against the softly cupped palm of his gloved hand.
“Good show.” Gloved fingers slid over the head of the putter, and lined up his sights. With a little amount of force the ball rolled in to the cup following suit. Par. The caddy’s marked upon the score cards and sat respectively waiting the two. “There’s a benefit dinner to be hosted by the NYPD, of that I’m sure you are aware. They bid welcoming arms towards MI-6…it is my intention to extend a hand of fellowship towards our feisty detective. One in a half weeks time, I’d suggest we procure Sheridan during that time. As for her partner, perhaps something could be arranged, a holiday were an eye can be kept upon him.”
Adjusting the sunglasses upon the brim of his nose he looked the direction of the next hole, a par five, with a stream for the water hazard. “When her world begins to fall apart, she’ll have no one else to turn to.” Reaching down he picked up the small ball from the cup tossing it up as he stood, catching it once more simply in his hand. Chase and Fuller had done as they were instructed, and he stepped in as the clean up crew. Chase would be his best bet in securing Sheridan. The old college roommate bond, would come in quite handy. Already his mind was churning with thoughts.
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Kenneth Irons
Patrolman
"I have been generous until now, but I can be cruel."
Posts: 37
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Post by Kenneth Irons on Jun 18, 2004 10:38:54 GMT -5
Kenneth allowed his figure to relax around Boswell, never would he fully trust the man, Boswell was far too like himself to be trusted. Yet Kenneth felt a kinship forming with the M1-6 agent something that went deeper then a mutual agreement. At times when he and Everett were conversing, it almost felt like he was talking with Ian. Completely different creatures, Ian and Everett, but none-the-less it was still refreshing to have a like mind to connect with on this level.
“Good show indeed. I dare say it will be “quite the good show” to watch that arrogant scoundrel Sheridan on his knees begging, like the dog he is. “ Ken’s words were cut short by the interruption of his cell phone, and after the rude conversation (if you could call it such) he turned to Everett. “The Red Queen has taken the bait. I thoroughly enjoyed the game, however I look forward to watching this new conquest take shape. If you will excuse me, it’s time I set the rest of the pieces in motion.” Kenneth shook Everett’s hand and turned to depart, glancing back to add, “Do give my regards to Detective Pezzini,” Irons winked.
~
“And what to my wondering eye should appear…?” he murmured to himself as he walked into the main doorway. He had changed his attire at the club into something more befitting the casual look he’d had the night before. The intense, almost spooky looks that he was sharing with Boswell replaced with the schoolboy charms and dazzling ‘honest’ smile. Nearing his office, Kenneth walked toward the statuesque figure sitting in his chair. It didn’t outwardly bother him that she was so brazenly sitting there, but what could you expect from a 'quick to impulse' girl like Lara. So for Lara’s benefit, he mocked mild depression.
“It was no secret Lara. I’m just disturbed that you took the initiate to riffle though my office rather then ask me directly.” His head tilted a bit downward, and his eyes cast upon the cluttered desk blotter before slowly making contact again with Lara’s icy stare. Quick as lightning he changed the subject, or rather, added more fuel to the proverbial fire. “Agent Vaughn should be contacting you in the next few days to arrange for your private hearing here in the states. Don’t let the boyish features fool you he’s one the CIA’s finest.”
The blonde-haired gent walked to the wall safe, and after depressing his thumb to the pad the door’s tumbler’s fell. Reaching inside Kenneth withdrew a bundle of letters. The twine was faded and the parchment was stained a dusty yellow from the hands of time. Gingerly he set the stack of letters before Lara. “I think your mother would have wanted you to have these.” Ken’s voice was thin, and it sounded… almost human. “I wasn’t always a tyrant Lara.” Defeated he turned and walked from the room, taking succor at the bar in the living room.
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Lara Croft
Sergeant
You know I can't resist a bit of fun.
Posts: 53
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Post by Lara Croft on Jun 18, 2004 14:24:59 GMT -5
She was sitting there waiting like some chesire cat, if she had a tail it would have been swishing back and forth in an eerie calmness. Instead her boots were propped up on a corner of the desk, arms bent at the elbows, propped on the armrests of the stylish chair, fingers steepled just below her chin. The Tomb Raider was silent as the business man entered, her eyes moved, following his movements, her ears absorbing his every word. Her features took on an unreadable look, but her eyes betrayed her, she was angry. His choice of words at first made her scoff, who was he fooling? Not her that was for sure," Please. I'm not daft. Nor are you that disturbed." Her tone was level, and fairly calm, but tinged with that venom she was so often capable of having there.
A brow rose in pure amusement at his quickness to change the subject," Did you really love her?" Her tone nonchalant, a clever litte smirk working at the corners of her mouth," Agent Vaughn. Hm. I know that name, and how nice of him really. I'll thank him later." Again she asked him as obviously her question the first time around was ignored," Did you really love her?" It was a game she often played with those who dared to upset her, asking the same rather menacing little question over and over until the person broke. Powell had broke in a matter of speaking and so would Irons.
Her eyes fell to the stack of letters, she'd deal with those later. With a haughtiness to her movements, Lara stood and followed the man into the living room," Well, did you really love her?" How she liked this game, she hoped it was making his temper rise even just a little.
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Kenneth Irons
Patrolman
"I have been generous until now, but I can be cruel."
Posts: 37
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Post by Kenneth Irons on Jun 23, 2004 20:28:54 GMT -5
Irons reached up to the overhanging glasses, procuring a tumbler. The practiced movements more of muscle memory now then a willed motion, Glass, ice, single malt scotch... it was all to familiar. In the years of his youth, Kenneth almost never drank, unless it was a social event with friends. His life was far too involved with study for him to even fathom the habit that he had today. - not to mention his pocket was far less padded. As Lara neared the bar, repeating the same line of questions like a spoiled brat who has had it's lollypop stolen, his silver irises flashed in her direction.
"Yes," he sipped the scotch wincing a little at the burn against his throat, "I did." He felt the amber liquor burn down to his stomach, warming the empty pit with it's intoxicating effects. "And believe me or not, eventually I was happy that she and Richard ended up together. It took a long bit of reasoning, but I can't think of another man I would have wanted to see her with. Richard was the closest thing I had to a brother in those days. He took me in without question, and I don't doubt that when he and Vivian thought I had perished in that expedition, the only soliace they were to find was in each other."
Irons waited for a few long moments, his eyes studying the amber scotch dissolving the cubes of ice in the glass. He wanted to tell her everything, but given her mood he wasn't sure if she'd really listen. Kenneth Irons wasn't lying when he said he wanted to make a change with his life. Not that he wanted to have Lara as a replacement for Vivian. How he felt for the Tomb Raider was far different then what he had felt for her mother. With Lara it was more of a respect for what she was, and less of a romantic idealism that he and she could ever have a life together.
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Lara Croft
Sergeant
You know I can't resist a bit of fun.
Posts: 53
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Post by Lara Croft on Jun 23, 2004 20:54:59 GMT -5
For a moment she just stood there, a bit shocked at his quickness in answering her question. It ruined her little game and so the facade was dropped so to speak and Lara became more rational, her arms folded and the woman merely listened and nothing else. A part of her was upset at both parties for never telling her about the other, but then again perhaps in her parents eyes it was for her safety... maybe her Father knew all along what Kenneth Irons would become. A tyrant, a mad, crooked businessman. Time told the truth, it always did and it always would, even now it was telling Lara many things... many things she did not want to know or understand.
After a few moments she spoke," I don't quite understand how you could become the man you did with such influance from a man like my Father, I know he had his secrets, but he sought to make them known and correct their mistakes." She was of course referring to the Illuminati as she had little knowledge of anything else, but with this new revelation the Tomb Raider began to feel a bitterness growing within her heart towards her Father. What else had he kept from her? Did she really want to know? Hazel eyes started to move about the room, it was comfortable, but expensive and hard. The room of a lonely man bent on wanting to rule the world one day, but looking at the man now, he seemed almost out of place here and it was becoming diffcult to remember how much of a twisted, power hungry bastard he could be.
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Kenneth Irons
Patrolman
"I have been generous until now, but I can be cruel."
Posts: 37
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Post by Kenneth Irons on Jun 25, 2004 11:28:59 GMT -5
The ice chinked against the smooth surface of the glass as the scotch worked its way into a fissure and cracked the cube in two. The room in which the pair was residing was an offshoot of the larger sitting area. Much like the lounge, the bar contained a fireplace; although respectably more modest. Above the flames atop the mantle sat a small symmetric sculpture carved in hematite and interlaced with segmentations of reflective silver hued metal. All in all it was a disturbingly beautiful and complex piece describing in its silent vigil the enneadic differences between science and nature. At the bottom of the sculpture there was a plaque that read, ‘I am not one who was born in the possession of knowledge; I am one who is fond of antiquity, and earnest in seeking it there. – Confucious.’<br> As he weighed Lara’s profound questioning about his corruption, he found himself quoting the words of his past to her. “Within every human being lies the ultimate source of wisdom, compassion, strength, and peace. All too often these treasures remain undiscovered …hidden by the turmoil and distraction of our worldly existence.” He sat straighter on the stool and turned to side glance at Lara. For a moment it was easy to forget that he had a fortune to rival Bill Gates, or that he had ordered, witnessed, and performed uncountable acts of unscrupulous behavior. Right here, and right now, he was simply Kenneth.
“As much as I would like to tell you that I was unaware that there were distractions heeding my path of fulfillment, I wasn’t completely ignorant to them. I didn’t know if your father told you if or how we met, but it’s clear now that he kept you in the dark about a good number of things.” Kenneth procured a second glass and poured a drink for the archeologist. “We met in the University of Oxford; I was a professor in those days. And when he found out that I was teaching a class on “Egyptology.” starting with the excavation of Naukratis by Blinders Petrie in 1885, he would often sit in for my lectures.”
A twinkle of memory illuminated his eyes as he recalled those days fondly. “It was Richard who convinced me to take a sabbatical so that we could travel to distant places I’d only read about. We were the perfect team, I was a researcher – alright yes a bit of a dusty bookworm. And your father… well I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you just how spirited he could be on a hunt.” He chuckled. “I always threatened that I was going to run back to the classroom so his reckless adventuring wouldn’t get me killed. But it was an empty threat, I lived for the escapades.” His tone grew a little quieter, “Did your father ever tell you about when he went to Saigon?”
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Post by Terry Sheridan on Jun 26, 2004 17:25:59 GMT -5
Sheridan mearly watched from the bed before moving and adjusting himself as feet hit the ground. the jeans he still wore were fixed and shoulders shrugged slightly, "Alright love, well just take a rain-check then shall we. I wasn't really all that hungry." he smirked slightly as he watched her. She was moving easier from last night, no doubt it was the Witchblades doing, keeping its host well. Streching he popped his neck and moved around the bed before her, kissing her forehead.
"I should see what Bos, and the guys ended up doing with my apartment, and take care of some business on my own. Don't look so worried love, I'll be fine." a hand moved against her cheek as he leaned forwards and kissed her once again "Take care of yourself as well. Ring me if you need anything...or when you get off."
The tall brit reached to where his discarded shirt was and pulled it on, running a hand against his short cut hair before strapping his sig to him as well.checking the time on his watch he removed his cell phone and dialed the number he had programed for Boswell. With a final glance towards Sara, he was out the door taking the elevator down and flagging a cab to head towards the penthouse near 5th.
His mind was going over questions though, about Sara, the witchblade, everything. They were already keeping secrets hidden from each other, how long before it turned into more? Did he love her? That was the one heavy on his mind, at on time he'd loved Lara, but that had been a few years ago. He was a playboy type, a tomcat, not a womanizer persay but he been playing the field for some while. Women were a large snag for him, after all how could he resist beautiful women? If he wanted them sooner or later they'd be his.
the cabbies voice pulled him from his thoughts as he stopped asking him for the fare. fishing out some money from his wallet he exited the car and headed up the front steps where the doorman was waiting to open it, and call up to the penthouse he'd been in last night. "Your here to see Sir Boswell, yes, your on the list go ahead up."
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Post by Everett Boswell on Jun 26, 2004 18:08:25 GMT -5
Kenneth had set his own agenda into order and now it was Everett's turn. Golf had been relaxing but he was ready to get down to business, and Irons had his own matters to attened to. It was aranged Kenneth would work on Croft, and he would work on Sheridan. The only thing left would all be in the timing. He already had plans for Sheridan, one he knew the agent wouldn't likely turn down. One he'd never turned down in the past.
Once back at his penthouse he redressed into a pair of pressed black slacks and a royal blue Prada button down shirt. The first buttons left undon and the sleeves uncuffed folded just right so it still look styled against his forearms. A leather banded Guchi watch against his left wrist. Sitting in the plush emerald green leather chair behind the rich mahagony desk his phone was answered "Ah, yes, Sheridan. Sleep any? Please feel free to do so, we need to go over details and what was told to NYPD on behalf of MI-6." it was a short conversation and he closed the sleek cell lifting the earpeice for the phone on his desk. "Detective MacCarthy please."
He waited for a moment with the silence before a voice answered and he began speaking. "Good afternoon, this is Jason Kirkland, I'm with the NST here in California. Just wanting to make sure you will be on board to represent the NYPD and New York as it's Surf Champ. No,no, no It's all expensise paid. You'll also be one of the Guest Judges for the Minors Sets. That's right, so pack your bags and well see you in Malibu in a day in a half. Your flight leaves tommorow night 7:45pm. Thanks, see ya then." And then the phone clicked. Ev had done his homework on the Detective, and arrangements had been made with the Captian to get him a leave. Things were going splendedly thus far.
NYPD knew little detail on the events at Sheridan's apartment, Boswell had only informed them of the attack against Agent Sheridan, there for it was like an attack on MI-6. The men had been uncovered to be tied to the underground Italian Mafia that still had controll of some areas and they were off on their own tangent, ignoring the one before them. A buzz came from the small wall unit by the front door from the desk clerk of the Lobby, Agent Fuller answered and gave the all clear for Sheridan to be let up. Raising to his feet Boswell headed out into the living room, when Sheridan walked through the doors a drink was already in had to off the Agent.
"Have no worries it was all taken care of. NYPD has been informed and are heading out to locate the source. The men you both killed, were all high memberes of the Italian Mafia." The group of men spoke business for some while until Everett stood up and smoothed his shirt. "I've got a V.I.P room waiting for use and the club. Guys night out...I could use a bit of social life myself." Night was falling in New York, as the velvet ropes were pulled back to let the men in. They'd taken time out to slightly redress Sheridan. When the entered the back room eight women were waiting them, drinks already on the table. The crowds were dancing and the DJ was creating a good mix of music for the nightlife.
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Post by Sara Pezzini on Jun 28, 2004 16:02:33 GMT -5
Sara was a little disenchanted that Sheridan hadn't given her more of a hard time about leaving, but deep down inside she knew it was better this way. She had already started to prepare heself for him to pull an about-faced manuver and just vanish on her... like all the others. And it didn't help matters much that he was acting so nonschalant about all of this. Minutes after Sherican departed she too exited the hotel, grabbing a cab and directing it to take her to the station.
"Yo Pezzini!" she turned toward the booming voice of the New Yorker cop looking startled. "Yeah Carter what's up?" He grinned and fell into pace with her. "That's what i was about to ask you... I dunno you got this glow or something. What was you up to last night..." Sara held her finger up in his face and growled. "Shut it Carter I'm not glowing." The patrolman gave her a knowing glance. "Alright... no glow, but you might wanna try buttoning your shirt straight before you go in there." Sara's eyes widened and she looked down realizing he had her. Flushing, she fixed her attire and then entered her office.
It was distubingly clean. Jake must have been up all hours on the Microwave Murderer case again. Part of her felt guilty at this, but hey if he wanted the overtime she wasn't gonna stop him. Just as she was settling into her chair she heard a knock on the door. Her head turned to greet the face of her superior Joe Siry. "Morning Sara. - I just got word that McCarthy got some kind of award out in Malibu so for the next couple of days your gonna be without a partner. Do me a favor and try not to make me regret not re-assigning you with someone." Pezzini's eyes crinkled as she smiled to Joe. He was the closest thing she had to a father anymore and hearing that she was back on his good side just made her light up. "Sure thing, Joe I won't let you down."
Hours into her shift she was still on the phone. Making background checks and trying to dig up some kind of dirt on who exactly had broken ito Sheridan's apartment and tried to take he and her out. her hand reached for the cup of coffee at her side and she sipped the vile mixture with barely a grimace. "Drexler I don't give a shit where you get your intel from I wanna know, did the Itallian Mafia make the hit or was it someone else?" Drexler's voice was shaky and as he rambled in her ear she nodded a little. "Alright well you see what else you can dig up and I'm gonna go and get down to the bottom of this... personally." The phone slammed onto the reciever.
Earlier she had been told that her motorcycle was delivered back at her apartment building, so once again she was hailing a taxi. This was the part of New York that Sara hated the most. Stuck in the back of a yellow car as the traffic droned on and on ceaslessly. Finally after a very infuriating ride later, Sara couldn't take it much longer, She knocked on the partitioned glass that seperated driver from passenger. "You can let me off right here." she demanded, exchanging bills. With a huff she slammed the door and looked up the block toward her destination. Frank Franchetti's mansion stood in the foreground almost staring at her. Heavy thudding footfalls marked her path down the sidewalk, her figure a perfect symbol of authority. Her jaw instincivly set and her hands although loose at her sides were ready for the inevitable knock of 'presence' that all cops seemed akin to. The house was still a ways off, far enough that her mental preperation seemed jumpy; but she'd heard Brumors about Franchetti... She just hoped that half of them weren't true.
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Lara Croft
Sergeant
You know I can't resist a bit of fun.
Posts: 53
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Post by Lara Croft on Jun 29, 2004 14:21:22 GMT -5
She merely stood there, long arms slowly lifted and folded near the flat middle that was her tonned stomach. The auburn head tilted to one side, eyes of green and brown finding the statue and reading the words. Fitting. Lara thought to herself, too fitting. Her eyes moved from the words to the man that was obviously fond of them, he was thinking, stuck in a rapt train of thought about her question it seemed. the conversation tables had turned in a way the Brit hadn't expected in the least. This was new to her, she had never had a reasonable conversation with the considered enemy before, especially when the wolf was in sheep's clothing.
for a long time she was silent, she studied the room and then the man it belonged too. He looked young, but still all those years of corrupted wisdom were evident in the way he acted and his over all demeanor. She was taken by his words a moment, they were well spoken and discribed the man who spoke them in a sense. Knowledge is power and power can corrupt, even Lara herself was corrupted to a point because of her own knowledge. This revelation however did not change the woman's views of this man at all. She listened to him talk of her Father with both a sense of anger and wonderment, not very many stories were told to her about the man she had looked up to in her younger days, in honestly Lara found herself caught up in the tale.
When he had finished the final question posed a slight confusion in her mind. Her Father had mentioned Saigon several times, but tended to leave out details and so the proper way to answer this question was a slight diffcult. In the end she answered the only way she possibly could," Not really..." And left it at that, deep down she was becoming almost jealous of this man who had gotten to spend so much time with her Father and Mother.
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