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Post by Everett Boswell on Apr 20, 2005 1:40:36 GMT -5
Everett smiled towards Sara as he gave a nod of his head, he couldn’t have been playing himself better. Ever the wolf in sheep’s clothing, even in this situation. It was all about building a trust, and she needed to trust him until Kenneth was ready with his plans. Everett needed her to believe that he was just as he perceived. Of course it wasn’t all lies nor smoke and magic, he was as he was, an English gentleman. “Anything to ease your mind. It seems you’ve plenty enough on it as it is.”<br> Sara had opted for dinner in and he agreed, dialing down he ordered from the Italian Delivery place ordering a nice pasta dinner, complete with salad, bread, and wine he had of course. Glasses were set upon the table and the bottle of Burgundy. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.” Walking down the moonlit hallway to his master bedroom Everett started to undo the designer button down shirt. Pulling out a simple styled gray v-neck quarter sleeved shirt pulling it on. Though he paused a moment over the wound she’d given him. Dress slacks were replaced with a comfortable pair of almost gym styled slacks, still expensive in brand and design but the look more simple. Hair ruffled slightly as he walked back out, padding bare feet against wood flooring. “There we are, hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”<br> He moved turning on a sound system, as a cd started to play male voice came over the speakers, as the door rang. Dinner was here. After the desk boy left from delivering the ordered items Ev went back to the table setting them up and serving a dish for Sara then himself all the while music of Maroon 5 was playing in the background.
Watch the sunrise Say your goodbyes Off we go Some conversation No contemplation Hit the road
Car overheats Jump out of my seat On the side of the highway baby Our road is long Your hold is strong Please don't ever let go Oh No
I know I don't know you But I want you so bad Everyone has a secret But can they keep it Oh No they can't
Driving fast now Don't think I know how to go slow Where you at now I feel around There you are
Cool these engines Calm these jets I ask you how hot can it get And as you wipe of beads of sweat Slowly you say "I'm not there yet!"
I know I don't know you But I want you so bad Everyone has a secret But can they keep it Oh No they can't…<br> After pouring the wine he leaned against the high back dinning chair. The glass coming to his lips as it’s red liquid flowing over easily. His eyes watched the detective at the table next to him before lowering his glass. “There must be plenty on your mind. If there are any questions I can help you with, please don’t hesitate.”<br>
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Post by Sara Pezzini on May 3, 2005 12:35:49 GMT -5
She waited patiently for Boswell to get everything prepared, taking the time alone to inspect his home. She felt alert to all the noises about her. Her ears heard wind rattle the balcony doors, amplified the scratch of her fingertips against the strings of the cello, she even fancied they heard the scuffle of a bodyguard’s feet as he walked his circuit. Boswell’s home was in fact a good representation of himself. Even her clever detective’s eye couldn’t see a hint of anything amiss. Part of her was disturbed at the façade of perfection, but she reminded herself that this was his home away from home. No one kept their guest house as relaxed as their own. Everett probably had a cleaning crew in here every other day. She recognized the same sterility in hotel rooms.
Sara turned toward the sound of footfalls and the English brogue. Her face lit up with a light unforced smile, something that wasn’t often seen on her face. “I’m sure you’re aware, but you’re home is stunning. With my line of work I’ve seen a lot of what many who live here in New York miss… I’ve even been inside the home of Kenneth Irons on more than one occasion, but this place… it’s amazing. " She sat at the table, tucking a few strands behind her ear. “Perhaps it’s because my house is in such a state of flux that I’m so appreciative of your classic blend of comfort and style. It’s just that so many of the upper class homes here on the Central Park West side are so beautiful and cold you’d think it was a museum.
“Yeah I do have a lot of questions. Terry is so mysterious all the time!” she mocked a lopsided grin and rolled her eyes playfully. “I realize that all I know about you and he is that you work together. How did you meet, and if it’s not classified, what are you doing in New York? I’m sure Britain is at a loss with two if their finest here in the states. Also, how in the world did you know where I was or how to find me? Did you happen to see any suspects?” Sara was brimming over with question after question as she and Boswell ate, her intuitive mind wanting to know everything. How much did he know about Jackie Estacado, was he aware of the Darkness as well as the Witchblade? Then just as she was opening her lips to speak again she felt a flash of something unnatural. The voice in her mind the voice that was always so invading, yet a part of her sounded different, felt[/b] different. <<<You ask so many questions ….little girl… Perhaps I was wrong to choose you.>>> ‘What?’ Sara’s mind was reeling; her stomach was a tight fist <<<Oh please don’t let me interrupt …detective[/b]>>>
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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 May 3, 2005 16:17:16 GMT -5
She had questions and they were going to be answered. More or less she wanted to know exactly what Terry was up to, and he was going to tell her one way or another. The Tomb Raider’s arms remained tightly folded as she watched his bare chest slowly rise and fall, in her opinion Irons had been to willing to get the drunk and unconscious man somewhere more comfortable and half naked. She had almost forgotten how chiseled he was… how well toned he kept himself, how damn good he looked in just his knickers. It was enough to make her mouth run dry.
Earnestly she shook her head of these thoughts and readjusted her current sitting form. Arms loosened slightly and legs crossed, left knee over right. A scowl was still slightly present across her lips, seeing as a part of her was seriously contemplating about dumping a bucket of ice-cold water over the zealous Scot to bring him out of his induced unconscious slumber. All in all Lara was a little less than happy with the current going-ons and was fairly convinced that Terry was not a pawn of the games, but was rather helping to plot the moves of each piece on the chessboard. To put it plainly, she did not trust him and planned to invoke some heavy interrogation when he came too.
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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 May 11, 2005 12:58:34 GMT -5
“Feeling any better?” Irons’ words were soothing. He sat across from Nottingham at the rectangular table, watching as the blanket shrouded man cupped a mug of warm liquid between his hands. Irons made no excuses for Nottingham; he respected him too much to do that. Straightforward unvarnished truth was always the best of approaches when it came to his personal bodyguard, even when it wasn’t flattering.
Ian blinked slowly, a long breath working through his lungs as he nodded. “And everything is clear to you now?” Kenneth prodded some more. Another nod. “What do you remember?” At first it looked as though Ian Nottingham wasn’t going to answer. His pale blue eyes stared into the void, as he dreamily open and closed his eyes again. But then his brow darkened, eyes flashed to Irons, eyes that were fully aware, sharp cold, deadly. His hand clenched tight, shattering the porcelain mug and splattering boiling coffee and blood from the fresh wound on his hand across the table’s surface. “I remember everything.”
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Post by Ian Nottingham on May 11, 2005 13:33:50 GMT -5
The apartment was quiet when the pair entered. Ian’s hand poked out of the buttoned sleeve, revealing it was bandaged with white gauze. He was dressed in his usual attire of black on black, his hair loose and straight falling down between his shoulder blades, bisected only from long katana blade he wore. This place was smaller than the Penthouse, a place that Irons had made according to Ian’s specifications back when he had first hired the man as his bodyguard. “I’ll let you get reacquainted,” Irons nodded before departing.
Once he was left to his own devices, he didn’t hesitate. Ian removed the sword from his figure, and crossed the room. His apartment was minimalistic. The design was traditional Japanese; Hard lines, beautiful but without warmth; much like the man who lived there. Kneeling before the statue of Buddha Ian offered the blade with both hands, and then sat it down before the idol. He began to meditate, to prepare for the upcoming battle with both himself and the enemies that would stand to oppose him or his employer. He was focused now; he understood the error of his ways, of what the obsession with detective Pezzini had cost him.
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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 May 16, 2005 17:40:56 GMT -5
His eyes peered up at the traffic light as his car paused at the intersection. The bright red light took his mind back to events recently passed. He could still smell her essence on him. The sweet smell of beautiful filled his nostrils but it wasn’t alone. It was shared with another scent that he was familiar with, the equally distinctive scent of blood. His mind still focused on his encounter with the detective. [shadow=grey,left,300]“You should have let us have her, boss.”[/shadow] [shadow=grey,left,300]“tender…tasty…pig meat…” [/shadow] The darkness seemed to call for her death and besides his own personal preservation he wondered if there was some other reason behind it. He had never felt the darkness pulling at him so hard before. Then there was the feeling that an outside force had intervened. All of this was stranger than usual but he didn’t have time to dwell on it now. He had a mission that had been placed before him. Uncle Frankie was only so patient and it was up to him to find the answers that his boss was seeking. The problem was that he was at square one. Pezzini had no answers for him and from what he got out of their conversation together the police as usual were in the dark as to everything going on. He needed to find some answers and that was exactly what he planned to do. He knew a few people that could help or be persuaded to help that is. Hopefully for their sake they didn’t toy around with him. He had his fun for the night, but the boys, the boys were quite restless. The night seemed to drag along a feeling that didn’t bother him. He was the darkness and the night was his greatest ally. His attention was brought back to reality as a car horn blasted behind him and a car then followed driving around him with the driver yelling some choice words in Jackie’s direction. He gazed at the light noticing it had finally turned green and smirked not bothering to pay the driver any mind as the car rode around him and pulled off. [shadow=grey,left,300]Mmmn, finger food... follow that car, boss.”[/shadow]A voice from within the shadow engulfing the backseat demanded. Jackie smirked, focusing on the smoke grey hatchback. ”No backseat driving.” he answered accelerating and pulling up next to the car. He glanced out of the driver side window and waved to get the man’s attention. The driver gazed over and shot Jackie the finger. The reaction forced a smirk from his lips as he directed the driver to his front windshield. The driver turned forward and saw nothing but an overpass ahead and turned back to flash him the finger again just as his car drove underneath the dark overpass. The next thing heard were the snickers of tiny demented voices and a blood curdling scream of terror before the screeching of tires as the drivers car swerved off the road crashing into the overpass wall. His vision scanned the area looking for any witnesses when he noticed a lone car in the distance. “We have ourselves a tail..." he thought as he continued down the road. It seemed as though there would be more fun for the boys. The night was far from over.
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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 13, 2005 1:35:11 GMT -5
Boredom did not make very good company, neither was the comatose Sheridan either. Sleep was not a solution, but merely a quest to aleve the hold boredom did have on her. Having tried twenty different positions on the small loveseat in the infirmary like room Irons’ had placed her ex-lover in, Lara stood and stretched out her limbs and back until she was satisfied and left the room, pausing for a moment at the doorway to glance back at the man she had once thought of as her equal.
Closing the door softly behind her, Lara moved about the house finding it dark and eerie in a sense, “ It’s like walking around a bloody ancient tomb.” The Archaeologist muttered to herself smartly, with a dash of amusement and headed upstairs, her mind already set on doing a little snooping.
Reaching the door of what she knew was Irons’ upstairs office, the Brit tried the knob, “ Locked. I didn’t suspect less.” As always she had the tools on her person to make quick work of any door, seven seconds later she was in and looking around the shadow casted rooms,” Cozy.” She muttered sarcastically again and headed for his desk and the computer settled sleeping apon it.
Making herself comfy in his large oversized leather desk chair, Lara carefully turned the computer on, “ Hm. Password and username required.” Arching a brow, Lara figured it was time to put her hacking lessons from Bryce to work… even if it was just the basics,” Let’s see.” Password: sarapezzini Username: KennethIrons., “ Let’s try this then.” Password: WitchbladePezzini Username: KennethIrons, “ Bugger.” Again she tried another mixture and to not avail, “ Bloody hell.” Perhaps it was time to call the expert.
Placing the headset of her cell-phone to her hear, “ Croft Manor.” She whispered into the microphone and waited as the electronic phone advised her it was dialing, “Croft Manor, Hillary speaking.” “ Put Bryce on the line please.” A bit of static and then a very asleep sounding computer geek spoke in her ear, “ Hm?” “ Bryce. It’s Lara have Hillary make you some coffee and get ready to do some computer work for me. I want to know what my unwanted host is up too.” No reply, “ Bryce.” She said with more authority, “ Oh…. Huh… wha? Right, right ready when you are Lara.”
Biting at her lower lip in concentration, Lara hooked up a small black device to the computer and then hooked it up from there to what appeared to be a palm pilot or a small computer like device which she carefully removed from the back of her cell-phone, “ Okay. Tell me when you got the screen.” A disgruntled mumble from the other end made the Tomb Raider grin slightly, “ Okay. Got it. Now what?” “ Hack his password and Username.” A groan of annoyance was received loudly into her ear,” It’s not that easy.” “ Why not?” “Well first off Irons isn’t stupid, second I have no bloody idea where to start.”
Lara sat back for a moment, “ Good point.” She admitted this was almost impossible, “ What have you tried so far? Maybe I can come up with something. He’s obsessed with the Witchblade right?” “ Right. Meanwhile I’ll check around his desk, maybe he has it written down somewhere. Doubtful, but worth looking into anyhow.” While Bryce muttered about in her ear, Lara set to looking around Irons’ desk, hoping that if she didn’t come across his login information maybe she would come across his paper files. Certainly he was a man who kept various types of copies,” Lara… there’s no way to do this unless you can actually catch him typing it or dust the keyboard. But working through the various keys he’s touched would take hours…” “ Which I don’t have.” Lara chimed in, and sighed, “ Okay, unhooking you then. I found his filing cabinets, and I’m willing to bet he has extra copies in here or at least an idea of what I could find on his computer. Putting you on visual.” Hooking the components of her phone back together, the Tall Brit eyed the filing cabinet and looked for the central lock and paused a moment to hook the visual feed so Bryce could view what she was, “ I’m on Lara.” “ Good.” Snatching her ever-trusty lock picking device, Lara had the lock open in ten seconds,” Hm. Let’s see.” Her fingers meandered through various manila folds, “ Hm. This looks newly written.” Lara spoke into the mouth piece and into Bryce’s ear, “ How can you tell that?” Asked the skeptical geek, “ I got ink on my thumb.” “ oh.” Came the defeated reply.
“ It’s a lease recite. For a pent house. Bryce, can you pull up a map of the areas around and just outside New York City?” “ Sure, gimme a sec.” Perhaps her snooping efforts would not go in vain after all, “ Okay.” Lara and Bryce then exchanged a series of sentences over the exact location, “ Okay. Written down. Also, one last favor. Find out what you can about the company Irons acquired the place through.” Moving over to the fax machine, Lara quickly faxed the recite to the Manor and then placed it back in it’s folder and then back into the filing cabinet, “ Well, it’s been a pleasure as always, but I’ve got places to check out. Ciao.” Hanging up from Manor, Lara headed down to Irons’ garage, surely he had a nice ride she could “borrow” for a little outing.
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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 Aug 6, 2006 5:06:54 GMT -5
Crossing the threshold of his office, Kenneth sat in the soft leather chair at his desk and opened his laptop. After glazing over the usual thread of e-mail he came across a very noteworthy piece regarding the NYPD or more specifically, on Jake McCarthy. Reaching to the phone he dialed up the well to do Everett Boswell. "I don’t' mean to interrupt, but you might want to be aware that Miss. Pezzini's partner is in quite a tiff over the stut you pulled this evening. I dare say he is on quite the warpath. As for the other end of our arrangement. I can assure you that Mr. Nottingham has been prepared for the task at hand. Please give my regards to Miss. Pezzini, in whatever way you feel is befitting."
Ken smirked and snapped the phone shut, returning to his perusal of the still shots on the screen. The fuzzy black and white photos of Jake McCarthy in his element causing his mind to work on how to tear down the young man. There was something about Mr. McCarthy that only he and a few other people in the world were aware. He was not the rookie cop that he was pretending to be. He was FBI and he was undercover. Digits typed a few commands, looking over the recent events of activity regarding the bureau as he dialed yet another number. "Good evening Mr. Bristow, I trust you know who this is?"
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