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 30, 2004 14:20:35 GMT -5
The tale unfolded from Kenneth’s mouth, honest and straightforward – for the first time since his friendship with Ian Nottingham, Ken was sharing a part of himself with another.
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Saigon 1956
Alone in the dark. If there was any light at all the broken outline of a human frame lying amid a shambles of rock would have been revealed. Sluggishly blood trickled from the head wound, coagulating with some assistance to the film of dirt caked into his sandy blonde hair. He had no idea how long he’d laid there unconscious. Had it been hours, days? Had it been long enough for the solidarity to hit home; that they thought he was dead? His mind thought back over the past few days groping at the memories like desperate straws keeping him conscious while he painstakingly shifted his broken leg out from under the rock that had crushed bone and flesh.
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“Some things never change, “ Richard perched on the edge of Kenneth’s desk, his dark brown locks looking windblown, highlighted here and there due to his almost constant exposure to the outdoors. “Tell me again what we’re doing in Saigon?” Irons grunted a guttural response as he continued to pour over the teetering pile of paperwork. Richard tried again to get Kenneth’s undivided attention, “It’s hotter than hell in this office, you mind if I open a window?” Not bothering to wait for an answer the dark-haired Englishman unlatched the dirty window and proceeded to lift the ledge.
“No, no, no, no!” The blonde researcher attempted a preemptive save at the papers that took flight. A flock of research material danced about wildly in the air like a swarm of birds. Irons pushed Croft aside, slamming the window shut with a grimace of anger. “Thanks.” His eyes glanced up angrily, then back to the littered ground as he knelt to clean up the mess. “Hey sorry mate I just thought you could use some fresh air. You do remember that thing called outside? Hell man I understand the concept of hard work, but the hours you’ve put in cooped up in this office… it’s enough to bring out the wanker in anyone.” Richard thumped Ken on the back, “Lucky for me it only comes natural.”<br> Ken cracked a small smile, “That’s an understatement.” He dropped a load of papers back onto the desk. “Well while you’re out enjoying the local flavor I’m in here trying to remember that we cut a deal with Mr. Yamamoto and as much as you might like to walk the gambit I’m not ready to hand him a pound of flesh when we can’t deliver the Rambaldi artifact he’s hired us to locate.” Richard was getting on his nerves lately. It seemed that the majority of the research was coming from him, while Croft spent his free time at luncheons with foreign investors or attending Ivy League parties with the upper crust. “Just because I have a work ethic doesn’t mean you have to jump down my throat!” On the heels of that he added with a heap of remorse, “Look I know we’re all a bit stressed after that screw up in Bangkok… and you’re right, I’ve been out of line lately.”<br> Ken sat next to Richard on the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose after lifting his glasses off. “I ran into Vivian this morning on my way past the market.” This of all things mentioned got Ken’s complete attention, “yeah?” he tried to sound nonchalant about the news. “Yeah," The dark haired archeologist sported a wide knowing grin. “She asked about you…” Croft was baiting his friend, knowing fully well that the mention of Vivian Hensingly would get him out of the funk he was so determined to dwell in. “And?!” Ken was already forgetting the pile of work behind him. “And, if memory serves me I think she mentioned something about the Cineplex playing ‘Rebel Without a Cause’?” Ken grabbed his small leather bound notebook tucking it into his back pocket. “Then lead on O Wanker of ceremonies!” The pair burst into laughter, exiting the office like reunited brothers.
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“Oh my God Richard, help him!!” Vivian screamed as she heard Irons’ grunt of pain co-mingled with the crumble of rocks. The ledge was crumbling under his feet and the cave to the ruined temple was about to collapse. Croft was quick to backtrack, his boots scattering loose stones as he slid onto his side and caught Kenneth’s hand, just as the ledge gave way. A grip that was slimy with sweat and dusted with powdery dirt was rapidly slipping. Swinging above the chasm Ken turned his glance down, foreseeing the horror that stretched out beneath him. Cornflower blue eyes met with the intense fire of caramel brown, “Just hold on!” Richard demanded fumbling for a better handhold. As the archeologist’s handhold slipped again Ken realized his fate. “Brother, tell Vivian I’ve always loved her.” As he foresaw, Croft’s hand slipped the last time and Kenneth fell into the gaping mouth of inky black. For a long time afterward all he knew was pain.
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“Funny, when I returned home I was expecting a warm reception. There I was imagining myself like a living breathing Tom Sawyer, attending my own funeral. But time it seemed was able to heal all wounds but mine.” Ken sucked his cheeks in as he struggled with this memory. “You couldn’t imagine how much it pained me when I saw them together. It’s only logical they would find happiness together but at the time I was younger… and love had a way of blinding my better judgment.” He sighed looking melancholy and deflated.#nosmileys#nosmileys
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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 Jul 2, 2004 16:34:54 GMT -5
A look of interest flashed across the Brit's features. It was often a look reserved for news of something to be discovered rather than a tale from another's past, but this was a different matter, this dealt with her parents. The Father she had looked up to and the Mother she had really never known. She remembered her Father having spoken about loosing a friend, a brother in Saigon, but she had no idea it had been him. This tyrant before her. Her emotions were confused, a part of her felt bad for this man, but the rest of her resented him with every fiber. As he spoke, weaving his tale Lara settled herself into a chair, long legs crossing and arms at ease apon the rests. Her green and brown specked stare never left the man at all. She hardly even blinked.
After he had finished, Lara sat in pure silence for a moment or two. She herself had been through a slight similiar situation. She too understood what it was like to almost die and even have your friends give you a proper funeral. She did not tell Irons this, mostly because she could barely remember it herself.
She did not know really what to say, she wasn't struck speechless by any means, but it was rare she figured for Kenneth Irons to share something so tragic as this, to share something that helped to turn the man into the monster. Words slowly took on a form in her mind and finally she did speak," Love can blind anyone's better judgement. I know all to well about that..." More than she would like to remember. Most men from her past had used her in some way and then left her broken and alone. Love was something Lara Croft could do well without, but problem was like anyone else she was only human and subjectable to human emotions.
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Jackie Estacado
Rookie
"Looks like me and my darkness is stronger than you and your light."
Posts: 12
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Post by Jackie Estacado on Jul 3, 2004 14:27:38 GMT -5
The light turned from green to yellow and the man pressed down on the accelerator of his sports car, slipping under the street light just as it turned red. Things always seemed to be a close call for him but honestly it was hard to tell whether or not he would have it any other way. Speeding down the downtown New York streets the man moved his foot from the accelerator slowing down as he neared his destination. His peripheral caught site of a man talking at a pay phone, not a strange site for New York but the man's look was quite odd. A white man with dreaded locks and piercings. He placed his focus back in front of him and slowed his car to a complete stop, parking in front of a large house. Opening his car door he stepped out and took in a breath of city air. Pushing away his long dark hair from his face he eyed the entrance to Frank Franchetti's headquarters. The man was decked in a well tailored, midnight blue Armani suit. The white shirt underneath the jacket was semi covered by the black tie that hung from his neck. Underneath his jacket the man concealed two hidden .44 caliber Desert Eagle pistols equipped with laser sights above the 6 inch barrel.
Stepping into the house the man was greeted by two large men in suits who after recognizing him allowed him to pass without words. The house was well lavished a perfect sign of a man who was very well off, if not connected. It wasn't long before he had made his way up and two the door of Frankie's den which was also the man's home office; from the sound of things the man wasn't happy. A light knock and the he opened the door and stepped in. "Jackie!!!" The man called out seeming enthused to see him as he broke from his conversation periodical. "How are things, Uncle Frankie?" he knew by the man's outburst before he had entered that things obviously were not the way that Frankie like them to be. Jackie leaned against the wall in the far corner of Uncle Frankie's office. Frank Franchetti the boss of the Franchetti crime family sat at his desk eyeing a skinny frail man dressed in a drab brown suit. The man seemed to be shaking in his loafers but most people did when they met with Frankie. Probably everyone except for Jackie. The man was like a father to him and he treated him like such. He watched the frail man waiting to be informed of exactly what the issue of the day was. A meeting with the Frankie wasn't a good sign and neither was the look in his eyes. They didn't call him "The Butcher" because of his love for cold cuts.
He wondered if this man would be the next to feel the boss's wrath. "I wake up and pour me a bowl of Raisin Bran and I get a phone call and hear some of our guys have decided to go whacking off cops? I didn't authorize this!" He looked at Jackie and then back to the man. "You know about this Jackie?" He looked and the man with a raised brow answering almost sarcastically. "Are they dead?" Frankie gave a slight smile and answered. "No, of course you didn't know about it." He placed his attention back to the man. "I want answers or you see Jackie over there, He'll be the last face you'll see." Jackie gave the man a wink and watched as he walked out of the room. If it wasn't for the fact that he may have not lived passed the moment the man probably would have pissed his pants. Once the man had left Jackie stepped up to the desk. "Jackie, I don't like not knowing about things. Somebody is trying to screw me over and you know I don't like that." Jackie nodded, "I'll handle it Uncle Frankie." Frankie smiled and stood to his feet moving over to him and patting him on the shoulder. "That's my boy. I'll leave this in your capable hands."
With those words Jackie exited the room and made his way back outside. Jackie had walked all the way to his car but something paused him. His mind thought of the man he had noticed earlier and he decided that he would take himself a walk. He made his way up the sidewalk until his eyes caught the woman headed in his direction. A beautiful woman, even with his high standards, there was something about her that was gave him a slight uneasy feeling. It wasn't the fact that she was a cop either, that much was obvious by her walk. She moved with a confidence that wasn't because of her beauty, she held power and she knew it. She thought she was untouchable but he had done away with those who had thought the same before. Stopping in her path he smiled, "Going my way?"
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Post by Sara Pezzini on Jul 4, 2004 13:49:36 GMT -5
A slice of light cut the veil of darkness obscuring most of the adjacent alleyway. It marked the break between the business section and the residential district. Her boots scrunched against the loose stone and littered debris that decorated the less than inviting cavity. She glanced toward it, and like a snapshot in her mind she caught a moment of the past; a knife fight ending in tragedy and then the vision as gone.
Sara turned back to the sidewalk and the tall dark Italian who was walking toward her consumed her vision. God’s honest truth Sara was looking at one of the biggest men she’d ever seen …Big as in spirit and big in stature; and he was walking like he owned New York. Dark too, not dark skinned; no, this was different. It was as if he was walking in a shadow. Every step he took towards the light--just when she thought his face was about to be revealed, it wasn't. It was as if the stray strands of lingering sunlight dimmed, just for him.
He turned, loose tendrils of chestnut brown cut across his eyes and at last the beam of sunlight caught his features. “Going my way?” The question rocked her. It was amazingly bold, and she didn’t need to hear anything else to know what kind of person he was. “That depends on a lot of things… Jack” she’d seen his wrap sheet, she knew who he was… and what the department couldn’t pin on him. Jackie Estacado, golden child of the Franchetti family, and she guessed a lot more than that.
Although his demeanor was more that inviting, Sara read his eyes - Cold blue flecks of ice, synonymous with the rumor on the street. Estacado was rumored to work just as cold as the stare that matched her own. The detective could have her snub-nose .357 in her hand at a moment’s notice. ‘Just one excuse,’ she told herself. ‘Just give me one god damned reason Jack, and I’ll hand you your ass.’ She shifted her leather jacket to the side, preparing herself for a possible arrest. As she moved, the warm creak of leather seemed too loud, too noticeable. If it was possible everything was brighter, louder that normal and it never crossed her mind that it might be the Witchblade’s doing. She found herself fascinated by the way the sunlight washed though his hair, catching the bits of highlighted auburn like coppers on fire, or January embers amid blackened coal.
She had no idea of her beauty. No idea that it was she that caught his attention and not the badge she wore clipped to her belt. Sara felt like twenty bucks in comparison to the sharp dressed man. Faded jeans hugged her hips, a tight baseball jersey (red on grey) outlined her torso and arms, and her hair was pulled back at the ears leaving the underside long and straight down the line of her back. When Sara turned to face the gangster a long ribbon of amber slipped over her shoulder. “Have you anything to confess?”#nosmileys#nosmileys
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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 Jul 6, 2004 18:38:39 GMT -5
"Forget it. It doesn't mean anything. In the greater scheme or the big picture, nothing we do matters. There's no grand plan, no big win. The only thing I have worked out was, if there is no great glorious end to all this, if - nothing we do matters, - then all that matters is what we do. 'cause that's all there is. What we do, now, today. - I fought for so long. For revenge, for a reward - finally just to beat the other guy, but... I never got it. I know that's the question rolling around in your head. - Why did he save me?" Kenneth paused for a minute. Rolling the glass between his hands as his eyes remained lowered. "I saved you because redemption, is all I have left." He looked up to say more, his eyes a soft grey, but before his lips could part a forced cough from the hallway interupted him.
"Sir, I hate to interject, but your presence is required." He lifted his head a bit turning to the butler. "I'm quite busy at the..." The butler insisted. "Sir, this of the upmost urgency." Kenneth swallowed a bit, pulling back the emotional feed he'd just shared with Lara. In a matter of seconds he had shelled up again and his gaze grew sterner with a forced professionalism. "I'll be there in a moment." Irons offered. It was clear that he was more complex a person than anyone ever dared imagine. "I'll be back shortly. Excuse me." Emotion winced across his face for a flash and then it was gone, the mask of cool calm businessman returned.
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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 Jul 7, 2004 21:24:46 GMT -5
Her attention span had never been one to wander, not even if the object she was focused on was boring. Lara always pays attention to every detail, from the big obvious ones to the small often ignored ones. Nothing escapes her, hardly. Once and a while something will slip passed her, but not often at all. Her brows moved slightly, coming together barely in thought. Kenneth's words held power, but also in a strange way truth. Truth was something prized by the Tomb Raider and despite his menacing ways, the man before her was being purely honest and baring his soul. This would hold a profound effect over the english woman, but certainly did not mean that her views of this man changed however.
She remained silent and vigilant, her attention moving as the subject matter turned tables, forced by the appearance of the man's butler. To the British brat this was rudeness, not even Hillary would dare to bother her if she was speaking with someone, important or not. Messages could always be taken. Eyes of brown and green watched the interaction carefully, her focus becoming more of a study than anything and judging by the play between employer and employee Lara figured that this was something undoubtably big. A new question slowly began to surface in the woman's brain, this question being; did whatever this was pertain to her?
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Jackie Estacado
Rookie
"Looks like me and my darkness is stronger than you and your light."
Posts: 12
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Post by Jackie Estacado on Jul 9, 2004 12:03:56 GMT -5
His dark eyes followed the woman's movement; her hips seem to call to him as they swayed with her walk. His lips curved, forming a seductive grin as she spoke. Normally his anger would overwhelm him when dealing with anyone that found themselves being so bold as to call him anything other than Jackie; even Franchetti respected this and refrained from even joking with the issue. She on the other hand called him Jack freely without fear of his reaction. She knew what power she held with that badge of hers and luckily for her he was far too turned on to allow such a minor grievance to bother him. Even dressed down he could tell that the woman was merely a wardrobe change from fitting into any look that he could fantasize about.
From trashy to classy or perhaps a mixture of the two, he seemed to be undressing and redressing her with his eyes finding new and unique roles that she would fit so well. They would all end in his bed of course and that was where he couldn't allow it to go. "A lot of things, such as?" he asked as he moved a bit closer taking in her scent. He could sense that she was tense, his presence was a bit overwhelming for her, perhaps it was the reputation that she had read about in her reports but he was more inclined to believe that it was simply just him. The shift in her leather jacket was all too noticeable but he didn't let on that he had realized such.
As much power as she had she did have a very well known weakness. She was bound by the rules associated with that badge that she thought protected her. Unless he provoked a reaction she couldn't touch him. None the less he wondered how much of her was itching to take him down and what percentage wanted him to go down on her. He reached out with his left hand and brushed her amber locks from her face. Leaning forward he whispered, "What would I have to confess that I couldn't just go to my clergyman about, Sara?" He was not above keeping tabs on the local law enforcement, especially the ones that he may think twice in putting a bullet through their pretty skulls.
He glanced into his peripheral and noticed a car coming down the road towards them. One of the Uncle Frankie's guys, more importantly one that could see this scene and with everything going on could attempt to turn Franchetti against him. Grabbing the arm that was in her pocket supposedly attached to her gun he spun her around almost as if the two were dancing until they slipped into the alleyway next to them. Moments later the car passed leaving the two unnoticed. Placing her between him and the brick wall behind him he pressed his body against hers as he placed his focus back on her, his hand still grasping her wrist that was connected to the hand the sat in her pocket. Gazing into her eyes he grinned before speaking again, "Now that we have a bit more privacy, anything you would like to confess? I wonder, is that a .357 in your pocket or is their something else you wish to tell me."
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Post by Terry Sheridan on Jul 9, 2004 15:04:36 GMT -5
Sheridan had shifted his weight quriking a brow towards his fellow friends and MI-6 Agents. "What a boy's night out?" There weren't too many words as the entered the Lincoln limo and headed off to the club. Though he was a bit, intrested in the fact of Everetts ways and the ease used getting into the club. Money was part of the answere to that, and his higher-up had plenty of it. So while in New York half the time he was treated like roaylty, Sheridan figured the titled the man held couldn't have hurt either.
It was definatly the place to be, bodies moved with the music, swaying, bouncing, rubbing against another. Women on platforms hardly dressed, same was to be said about the normal patrons of the club. Sheridan stuck more to bars and pubs when he picked up women. He'd find the popular ones, ones that attracted more of the good lookin people, than drunkards. Half of the time that was how he'd picked up women. First time he'd met Sara was in a bar. HIs mind though back to her.
It had been quite this morning between them, both probably having questions. Secrets. He was all to famirliar keeping those. Pulling out his cell phone he glanced down at the call log, no call. His thumb moved to scroll down to her number when Chase's voice broke through. "We keeping you from something, mate?" flipping the phone closed he tucked it away. "Yea, a spot of fun. Now get your arse moving so we can get some drinking done." Agent Chase moved back holding open the plush curtians that devided part of the way into the VIP lounge and Terry ducked slightly and walked right in.
In ways Evertte had changed, but still he saw him just as a boy with daddy's wallet. But he knew how to throw a hell of a party. "Ah, so you do fancy girls, Ev." there was that rogueish smirk playing upon the spys lips as one of the blonde women moved up towards him with a glass. HIs eyes traveled over her for a moment as the edge of the glass was put to his lips. "Well good evening tall, dark and handsome...don't worry I'll make it all worth your while." the glass was tipped up slightly as she slid her hand up against his chest. Watching in silnce he hadn't shifted, but tongue could already taste the liquor, rich in flavor slipping past his lips. one hand moved up grasping around the glass and where she held it with her hand, before shifting under the touch.
The others had all taken seats around the leather sofa that wrapped around the room. Each with a glass and at leaset one woman. Small pressure was felt against his chest as the woman moved forwards guiding him back to the sofa so he'd sit. another drink from the glass and he set it aside as he sat the woman comming with him. She was bold as she moved her hand up against his neck and chin, brushing her thumb down against his bottom lip. "So do you have the great accent too?" Sheridan shifted a moment before the corners of his lips pulled "I've a better accent than any of these blokes will every have." then he felt breath against his ear a different voice than the first "Mmm, every girls dream." she purred fixing his nearly gone drink with a new one.
She adjusted herself against his other side and lifted the drink taking a small sip before passing it on to him. Another drink and he was becoming more relaxed, more like himself in a way, even though the back of his mind was nagging about Sara. Nearly finishing off the drink arms moved around the back ridge of the sofa resting while the women shifted against him. "Who do you think has the sweeter kiss?" the blonde moved kissing him first and pulled back slightly the other girl moved in kissing him as well. Sheridan licked his lips before reaching for another drink, he remained silently looking back and forth between the women. "Maybe I've to see what each kiss looks like as well." as if already knowing his idea the two women moved leaning over him kissing each other before the blonde, put her hand behind his neck and pulled him forwards slightly into the kiss. It was already starting, Sheridan was becoming inhabitioned, blurring his lines of judgment, acting on the vanity he had.
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Post by Sara Pezzini on Jul 12, 2004 14:26:10 GMT -5
His eyes scanned her from head to toe and then repeated the process… obviously Estacado missed a few lessons in manners, she noted. Sara could practically see what his imagination was conjuring about her and it was simultaneously degrading and complementary. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Jackie Estacado exuded sexual energy like heat from a flame. And in his case it felt volcanic. Ordinarily Sara was able to keep a poker face around her adversaries. But this situation was far from ordinary. Her partner was in California, this impromptu visitation to Franchetti’s hadn’t been called in or reported so she was certain that if she needed help, it wasn’t going to find her very easily. It was times like this that she almost wished Nottingham would seep out of the woodwork to assist her. Somehow he always knew when she was in over her head, and if the screaming fury of the Witchblade sharing space with her inner monologue was any indication she was in quite deeply.
“Such as voyeurism, premeditated criminal acts, and attempted murder? Is any of this ringing a bell?” Sara flinched and quickly drew back her head as he reached forward and touched her hair. Her left arm flashed out to block him from any further unwanted attention, knocking his hand to the side. Her right hand slipped into her pocket as she double checked that she had her handcuffs just in case she was forced to take him into custody. Pezzini was just about to remove it when Jackie reached forward and grabbed hold of her wrist! He was upon her in seconds, his powerful grip crushing her dominant hand against her side and against the rough edge of tempered steel. As he flipped her around they did indeed look like a pair of dancers. The slam into the wall rocked her head back onto the bricks, thunking skull solidly against the rough surface. For a few moments her vision blurred.
When Sara came back into focus there he was; inches from her face. Was this really happening? Or was this all just a dream, a nightmare that Sara never wanted to see manifest in her career in law enforcement. Cold blue eyes took her in, ate at her visage hungrily. This was no dream. “Jack…” she breathed. Everything was moving in slow motion, her actions likened to someone moving underwater. Sara could smell the aroma of expensive cologne mixed with a light perspiration heavy with masculine pheromones. Jackie’s warm breath danced across her lips as he inched closer. Inside her pocket Sara’s hand twisted against the unnatural bend in which it was being crushed. She was certain that at least two of the digits were jammed if not broken. Sara could feel the press of her .357 at the small of her back, Sara was inches from the weapon, but in her position it might as well have been a mile.
In those desperate seconds her mind sharpened. She remembered the arm above her head. Sara drew her left arm, allowing Jackie a momentary bit of freedom. The dexterity and resourceful thinking of a seasoned detective came in handy as she cunningly reached into Estacado’s jacket. The desert eagle didn’t suit her in the slightest; her delicate hand was far too small for the handgrip. The recoil could easily break her wrist if she fired single handedly, but her aim was unwaveringly steady and strong as the barrel jammed up against the gangster’s side. “The only thing I’d like to tell you is that unless you let go of me I’ll be adding forcible violation, and assault of an officer. to your arrest." Jade and gold eyes flashed angrily as her threat was hammered in place by the seriousness in her eyes; but beneath it all the sadist in her was feeding into this.
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Post by Everett Boswell on Jul 12, 2004 15:41:39 GMT -5
A hand smoothed down against the fabric of the Prada styled shirt, Everett was almost compulsive about presentation, after all what most people were judged on first was presentation of themselves. He thrived on giving a first good impression. There was a small nod of his head as he continued on through the club, paying little mind to those who were moving around him. This arrangement was part pleasure and part business, the business man of him was focused on it. Still he played his mannerisms off coyly. As the women in the room moved to greet them a hand slid against the small back of one of the girls as he took his own space upon the sofa.
The corners of his lips pulled slightly, “Of course I fancy woman.” His free hand moved down lifting a small glass to his lips before continuing his though motioning towards Sheridan “Though you my friend still take the cake as it were, by shere number of women who’s fancy you’ve surly stroked…over, and over, and over.” His lips pulled even more into a smirk, bringing out the running scar. The other men laughed upon the words, clearly meant as innuendo to Terry’s ways.
But his eyes watched the glasses, the blonde who took the lead with Sheridan had been informed of what to do, and with each glass he finished, the drug would take more and more effect. He could see it, even with the way Sheridan handled himself around the women. And yet, there he sat no stopping it, not even with the fact he had a beautiful woman who’s worry had been him the night, Ev first officially met her. Another small sip and he placed the glass down, leaned whispering something in the woman’s ear that was seated next to him and stood.
“Excuse me one moment. I’ve to use the W.C.” the dark haired woman that had been with Everett to place with the women already with Sheridan, moving to straddle behind him massaging his shoulders and neck. Sheridan had been too involved with the girls to notice the small nod given to Chase and Fuller, as he ducked down exiting. Once down a small back hallway lit with the lights of the club the small silver phone was removed and opened a number dialed. Moments later a small discussion Everett was back enjoying the company of the V.I.P room.
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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 Jul 19, 2004 14:09:26 GMT -5
“Would you mind telling me why you felt that an interruption was acceptable? Frankly I’m surprised at you Barkley. So unless you’d like to hand in your resignation I’d better hear a good reason as to why I've just left Lady Croft in the lurch.” The doors to Kenneth Irons’ office swung closed as the already muted sound of voices cut off completely. Irons was calm on the exterior, but inside he sweltered. His temper was a slow burn, not quick to explode… no he preferred to weigh the options before taking what means were necessary to right the scales. The middle aged assistance stood stoically, not really liking the situation that he was in. Usually there was a buffer between himself and Mr. Irons. And although Ian Nottingham wasn’t any more comfortable to be around it at least gave another person to absorb the ebbing waves of Kenneth's malcontent.
“Mr. Irons, its Chase Carver. He’s arrived just this morning… I didn’t want to disturb you earlier, but I fear it can no longer be ignored. His flight has just arrived.” The blonde haired man softened, the miniscule lines across his brow smoothing out. He opened the drawer to his desk and rummaged though the chaos that Croft had left behind. His fingers felt out the edge of thread and he removed the false bottom of the drawer, spun the lock and then reached inside the cubbyhole. A methodically careful hand held out the tiny tape of condensed film. It was a bulk of the archived footage he’d gathered on Detective Pezzini. And although he had copies in his subterraneous vaults, next to the Witchblade one of the things he’d coveted most about one of the entries on this tape was simply watching the wielder sleep. A simple label was affixed on the edge, and it stated in Kenneth’s flowing longhand, ‘What Dreams May Come’. Before his mind could be swayed to the alternative, he placed the cassette into Barkley’s hand.
“See that this gets to the appropriate party. I apologize for the outburst, and although I would have loved to partake of eating your infringing tongue over dinner conversation, when I’m wrong I say I’m wrong.” It wasn’t clear from Irons’ tone whether or not he was joking, about his sadistic meal options, but Barkley wasn’t giving him any more time to linger over the choice. The pair departed ways, Kenneth returning to the lounge and of course Miss Croft. “My humblest of apologies Lara, but it seems that my assistant scheduled a meeting for this early evening, as a client has arrived a bit early for our negotiations. I was hoping to ask you in a more timely fashion, but I wondered if you’d grace me with your opinion on a piece I’ve been inquiring about.” His platinum eyes glanced to the grandfather clock then back to her, he was clearly hard-pressed for more time.#nosmileys
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Jackie Estacado
Rookie
"Looks like me and my darkness is stronger than you and your light."
Posts: 12
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Post by Jackie Estacado on Jul 19, 2004 17:06:55 GMT -5
When you grow up in an orphanage and then with a crime family manners isn't something that is stressed. He however wasn't a complete Neanderthal, although if he was one then he probably wouldn't worry about repressing his sexual urges. He could have seen himself with her. His eyes were locked unable to pull from her gaze. There was a strange attraction, perhaps the fact that they were so different and on opposite ends of the spectrum. She was the hero and he was the villain, good, bad, yin, yang, light and the darkness. Oh, if only he knew how right he was. " Did you come here for an interrogation, or is their something else on your mind?" His grin seemed to only widen as their encounter prolonged. Perhaps she thought he was behind the shooting that Uncle Frankie had been screaming about earlier. It was a thought that didn't sit well with him. He didn't like the fact that he would be thought to be behind a botched assassination. He had already been confronted by Uncle Frankie and like he told him, if he were involved the targets would have been dead.
She slapped his hand away from his sensual advance. A feisty move on her part. He liked feisty. He then grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around trying to avoid her being seen by Frankie's men. If they had spotted her they wouldn’t have hesitated to kill her or place him in the position to do so. His rescue served a purpose for him as well, with all of the things happening, for him to be seen with a known cop would place doubt around him in the eyes of the rest of the family as well as the other families. He could take care of himself but this would also bring shame to Uncle Frankie. The man was like his father and he didn’t want to be frowned upon. Of course an act of chivalry was unnoticed as his deliberate movements were unconsciously violent. Her back slammed into the wall, whiplashing her head as it smacked against the solid bricks.
He may have not meant to be so rough but sorry wasn't a part of his vocabulary when it came to cops so he simply grinned slightly as her eyes went glassy before focusing once again. He brushed away her hair once again with somewhat of a concerned look. "You still with me, Sara?" He leaned his chest closer to her, standing between her and the wall. A lean forward and he would be able to meet his lips with hers. She however seemed to have panicked and fallen into an instinctive mode. With a few movements she had reached into his jacket and pulled out his own desert eagle pressing it against his chest. He smiled as she spoke and then rebutted, "Safety first..." She had been reluctant in releasing the safety. He also knew that the size of his weapon would poise a firing hazard for her. Then there was the fact that she was the law, bound by its rules and regulations. He was bound by neither.
It was his gaze into her eyes as they flashed that seemed to trigger his next move. He leaned in quickly and sent his head into hers, a stunning blow as he didn't wish to ruin her pretty face. As he withdrew from her he grabbed the hand with the weapon and twisted it until she released her grip and at the same time pulling out his other weapon as he reached in to his jacket with his left hand. Releasing the safety with his fingers he aimed them at her. "You're a smart girl, Sara. Do you think I'm gonna let you take me in?" As beautiful as she may have been she was still a woman that he couldn't have. Not to mention a cop and alas that made her a bullet to the head away from being quickly forgotten.
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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 Aug 6, 2004 15:21:23 GMT -5
Kenneth Irons had made in a matter of speaking a request for her to join him in going out... somewhere. The man had not stated where exactly, but had made it obvious it would be worth her while, that knowledge alone made the English Archeaologist nervious and curious all at once. The businessman had also seemed a bit nerved about something or someone, but Lara figured it was not any of her concern and therefor didn't pry and waited for him to devulge anything he think she ought to be aware of.
Dressed in something rather usual for her, namely black pants and a dark green shirt, Lara took attention to where the limo was headed, in her small knowledge of the city of New York she figured it was somewhere downtown, but she could be wrong of course. Lifting her hazel stare, the Tomb Raider studied the man across from her and then finally allowing her curiosity to win over asked," What exactly is this all about... if you don't mind my asking that is."
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Post by Sara Pezzini on Aug 11, 2004 16:01:33 GMT -5
The blow to the head wasn’t what she had expected in the slightest. If the abruptly violent contact wasn’t enough to render her incapacitated, the second blow to the back of her cranium against the wall was an adequate follow-up. It wasn’t until she heard her name that her senses against started to return to her. Sara was completely startled at the utterance of her name. The mafia hitman knew her… the fucker knew her. It was almost too much. He’d taken the weapon in one deft mve! It was almost supernatural. Sara might have stood there in awe, while her head spun for all eternity, the Witchblade however was far from awestruck. Hungry vines of metal coursed across her nimble frame. It ripped though the thick fabric of her jeans and the layers of t-shirt and leather jacket like a knife though wet tissue paper. As she felt the cold alien touch on her skin it acted like a bucket of icy water to the face. The detective found her voice.
“Whatever they paid you to try and kill him… I’m here to collect.” The Witchblade sparsely covered her slender athletic figure, replacing her former look of balsey untouchable cop with that of a goddess. “You have no idea what I am, but I’ll make the introductions short. I’m the one that’s going to kill you.” Again the Witchblade morphed, this time around her shoulders and then crowning her head like a multi-faceted crown of thorns. As the tendrils curved up behind her they carved grooves into the brick, tearing the material apart as it were constructed of nothing more than wet sand. Sara’s teeth clenched together and she allowed the blade to take the rage she’s been holding back. Was it really worth it? Did she really love him enough to kill this criminal, potentially throwing her career as a cop to the gutter?
It wasn’t debated. She didn’t need any time. Jackie’s deft move was immediately countered but the Witchblade’s outstretching limbs. Lashing out the whipping tendrils simultaneously gripped the barrels of the weapons, crushing the metal like play-dough before withdrawing to then attack living flesh and bone with the same ferocity.
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Jackie Estacado
Rookie
"Looks like me and my darkness is stronger than you and your light."
Posts: 12
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Post by Jackie Estacado on Aug 17, 2004 14:42:07 GMT -5
"Real smooth, Jackie." he told himself as he held his desert eagle outstretched in his arm, the barrel aimed at her head. He was faced with a no win situation. He had every reason to kill her and every reason not to. After their brief scuffle she could surely bring him in on an assault charge and he had no interest nor did he plan on serving any jail time. So it would make sense to kill her. On the other hand if he did kill her it was almost certain that he would also be blamed for the assassination attempt on the cops that Uncle Frankie had spoke of earlier. Then he would have to deal with Frankie's wrath as the blame would also flow to him for not keeping tabs on his employees. That wouldn’t be a problem if he was truly the culprit but he told Franchetti that he didn’t botch assassination attempts and he wasn’t going to ruin his reputation through this situation. Neither seemed worth the trouble but as he watched her regain her composure it seemed that she wasn't planning on giving him a choice in the matter. Suddenly he felt his muscles tense, as if his body was preparing for something that he hadn’t noticed yet. Then his eyes widened and focused on the woman's figure and the changes that were occurring.
Metal seemed to tear through her body shredding her clothing. The vines wrapped around her naked body and if he didn't have the severe feeling that he was in for some trouble he may have whistled his approval of the show. Oh, what the hell, he thought as he whistled playfully. “Looking good, Sara, And to think, you had me with the jeans and shirt. But this… with that act I can get you a job in any club in NY.” He quirked a brow as she spoke, her voice a bit more serious than it had been earlier. He shook his head. “Here we go again with this shit. Can you tell me who I was supposed to kill? Name and picture if you have one. Does that getup have pockets? Since everyone thinks I tried to kill this guy I might as well go finish the job.” He smirked as the woman continued with her speech. “You look like a half naked cop to me, Sara. If you were fully naked and threw yourself on me then I’d be scared, but you seem to be covering all the right areas. Question. How does the field look down there?” He chuckled, making light of the tense situation. No matter how dire things got he would never lose his smug attitude. Of course if he would have then this may have been the occasion.
He watched as her getup morphed once again and carved into the brick wall like a knife through flesh. He knew he was in trouble but he couldn’t let her know that he knew that. He didn’t even blink and the woman’s suit lashed out at him and grabbed the barrels of his guns crushing them like aluminum cans. Maybe it was just him but her get up reminded him of something. Yeah, that’s right, the Darkness. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one with an all-powerful weapon. Luckily for him he anticipated the metallic tendrils next move and barely avoided the limbs now trying to skewer him. The tendrils ripped through the jacket of his suit tearing his shirt and slicing his arms slightly. He clenched his teeth as he gazed at the woman, sliding his body towards the back of the alley. “Do you know how much that suit cost, you sadistic bitch! It was fucking Armani. The button cost more than your department’s budget.” He was more interested in the status of his suit than his bleeding arms and for good reason. The sun was taking it’s time to set but as he watched the shadows creeping over the alley he grinned. “Now you’ve gone and pissed me off. And to think, we have a similar enemy in whoever tried to kill your pig friends.” As he crouched the shadow soon stretched over him and his clothing seemed to disappear.
From the head to toe his body was covered by the symbiote known as the Darkness. Standing to his feet he glared at her through new eyes, the Darkness protecting his features. It was then that the shadow behind him seemed to take on a life of its own. Cords of flesh and claws erupted around him flowing around the alley like vines, and then a voice interrupted “Mmmmn, pig… we having pig tonight, boss?” Another voice followed,“You sure know how to pickem, Jackie. She's a hottie.” "Yeah, scorching!" another added. Suddenly the source of the voices was revealed as he was soon accompanied by an army of what looked like gremlins, goblins or demons. The politically correct term was darkling. They were the darker side of his personality but seemed to play the role of comic-relief while they terrorized Jackie’s victims. “Boys, this is Detective Sara Pezzini. Sara, these are the boys. Say hi boys.” The smug look on Jackie’s face was covered by his face mask but it was shared by the darklings that were poised to pounce the woman. A few making faces, others licking their lips either seductively or hungrily. “Hi Sara!!!” they all replied in unison. The sun was moments from disappearing under the horizon.
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