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Date Posted: 10:35:10 07/28/02 Sun
Author: Rudy
Subject: Adversaries 1
In reply to: Rudy 's message, "Adversaries" on 10:24:31 07/28/02 Sun

The immense library was dimly lit by the flicker of candlelight. A large portrait of the stark white-haired billionaire was the focal point of the room. Sara Pezzini cautiously entered the doorway with her gun in hand. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness as she scanned the room for any sign of Ian Nottingham. She moved cat-like through the room taking in the obvious struggle that had transpired. A luxuriously textured wing-back chair had been turned over on its side. There were various vases strewn throughout the room in pieces. A gargantuan antique bookcase was splintered on the floor with volumes of priceless books scattered everywhere.

She took in the scene as her eyes flicked back and forth. Suddenly her green eyes widened as she saw the figure lying behind the enormous leather sofa. She stepped towards the form and gasped as she saw Ian lying in a pool of blood. His stillness left a lump in her throat. Sara knelt down and felt his neck for a pulse. The silence was overwhelming, as if a midnight cloak had wrapped itself around her. She struggled to breathe. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

A faint, "No," escaped her lips.

The brisk November air held no mercy that day. Sara stood by the freshly dug grave as the priest said his final words and ambled away. She was alone. The chilled wind whistling by was the only sound that was audible. Thankfully, Danny and Jake had made an appearance at the cemetery. Though she knew it was only for her, it gave her comfort that she and the priest were not the sole mourners for Ian. I guess you've reunited with your 'father', she thought. She placed a single red rose on top of the casket and left with a heavy heart.

She tossed and turned all night long. She saw his perfectly sculpted face throughout her fitful sleep. She rose up and checked the digital clock on the nightstand: 3:35 a.m. Damn. Throwing off the sheets she jumped up out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen. She flipped on the light and opened the refrigerator to retrieve a chilled bottle of water. She gulped it down and collapsed into one of the dining chairs. Propping her elbows up on the table, she rubbed her eyes and then lowered her head into her arms. Hot tears began to sting her eyes once again. She sat there and sobbed for a few moments, unable to comprehend her emotions.

What in the hell is the matter with me? she thought. Ian Nottingham had been a thorn in her side every since she had come into contact with him and Kenneth Irons. He had brought her nothing but grief and confusion. His dark, sullen nature combined with a mysterious agenda had creeped her out. He and Irons' designs for the Witchblade had always been a source of friction between them. His bizarre confessions of affection for her provided much consternation. And yet, she could not control how his death affected her. She replayed the many conversations she had with him. Her sarcastic, biting tongue had come back to haunt her. I really didn't treat him very nicely, she thought. In fact, it amazed her that he continued to attempt a connection with her at all. And now he's gone.

The laboratory was stark compared to what he was used to. His exhausted face reflected he had been working feverishly throughout the past few days. He sat down and looked up at his newest achievement. A faint smile spread across his face. Mr. Irons would have been so proud, he thought to himself. Walking over to the table, he gazed down at his creation.

"Beautiful work, if I do say so myself" he said to the air.

"Do not congratulate yourself prematurely, Dr. Immo," Irons said to the startled man. "We need to make certain there are no defects present that would hamper my plans."

"Ah...Mr. Irons. How did this come to be? I thought you were dead," the surprised doctor said.

Irons walked towards him and let out a little laugh. "Yes, and everyone thinks Ian is dead as well. But you've taken care of that. Don't you worry your head about how or why I am here. Just know that I am," he smirked.

He stood over the table and placed his hand on Ian's face. His lifeless body lay still as Irons grabbed his hand. "Soon, my son, we shall have a reunion and the new and improved Ian Nottingham will serve me and only me," he vowed.

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