1995/Weird Investigations involving NYPD + SHIELD

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Weird Investigations involving NYPD + SHIELD
Date of Scene: 07 June 2020
Location: Brooklyn
Synopsis: Witchblade meets Achilles... connections are formed quickly.
Cast of Characters: Achilles, Sara Pezzini




Achilles has posed:
    Another day, another collar. SHIELD Agent Angelo Tampambulos apprehended a suspect. A suspect that had the ability to dissolve iron based metals. So, said suspect managed to dissolve most of the SHIELD issue SUV that Agent Tampambulos had, and when he put a call in for a pickup, he made sure the suspect was secured via plastic restraints, and rendered unconscious via an ICER shot.
    So, a few minutes later, he comes into the precinct, stopping by the desk to say, "Please forgive me Sergeant." in his barely there English accent. "I could use a room to place this suspect into. A room that has no metal, or at least limited metal to restrain him. I would show you my ID but my hands... if someone could please reach into my jacket inside pocket, left side...."
    That voice might strike Detective Pezzini, or maybe the fact that he has a two hundred pound thug in a fireman's carry... maybe she might be intrigued here?

Sara Pezzini has posed:
The Sergeant at the desk has rank on the rookie detective and nabs her with a finger point as she tries to slide behind the big man carrying the even bigger man. "Pezzini!" He calls with a malicious smile. "Reach into this gentleman's inside left pocket and pull out his ID. No hankie pankie."

Pez wants to give him the finger but satisfies herself with a narrow-eyed sneer. Smiling with no humor, it's more a quick grimace with teeth, she says, "Excuse me." Her fingers are as light as a pickpocket's as she slips it inside his coat pocket, then flips the ID onto the sergeant's desk, ready to take off. The sergeant's voice stops her.

"Take him to a room for questioning. Guy says no metal." The ID is examined and shoved back to the blond man. Pezzini grabs it with a show of temper.

"Come on. Follow me."

Achilles has posed:
    As if he was merely attending a dinner party, the SHIELD agent smiles and nods, "After you ma'am." he says, turning to follow. I mean.. seriously, what man would argue at being -behind- detective Pezzini. SERIOUSLY.... what? The view is nice, but he only allows himself the barest glances before his eyes come back up. He doesn't want to get caught leering.
    But he follows and adds, "For the record, I apologize detective. I didn't mean to get you pulled away from something. I just need someplace to secure this joker until my ride arrives. So, to repeat, I apologize, and thank you."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Pezzini is in no mood to be leered at, she looks back over her shoulder with a murderous look that would make most men quail. She gives a little body english to the next few steps to make her point.

"Yeah? Well, the Sargeant said for me to accompany you to an interrogation room. But I'm not going to babysit..."

A voice interrupts her, "Hey Pez! Captain says you stay with the SHIELD agent till jurisdiction is decided and booking can start."

Taking a deep breath, the detective gives the SHIELD agent a look that would melt paint off a wall. "Right. I'm now your designated nanny. Follow me." They continue down the corridor to an open room with a wooden table and chair on one side and two chairs on the other. "Put him there. We can be one happy family together."

Achilles has posed:
    "Oh, so you're like mum, and I guess this is the crazy uncle nobody wants around." suggests Angelo as he steps inside and lays the guy on the wooden table. Then he steps back and folds his arms over his chest, "Now for the formal part. Agent Angelo Tampambulos." he says as he offers a hand, "I know, it's a mouthful. You can call me Angelo, or Agent. Or Agent Tam... whatever you prefer. I even answer to.. hey you, with the face."
    He shrugs and shakes his head, "Either way, I am sorry you got caught up in this."
    He gestures to the table and says, "Victor Petrovich here is a metahuman with the ability to any metal he touches... I think it might be iron based metals only. But I can't say for sure. So... he was on our radar and I went to speak to him.... and he dissolved my car."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Frowning pulls her generous mouth down, two strong lines tracing arcs from her nose. With a long controlled breath, she nods, "That would make you my crazy younger, ah, no older brother?" That tickles her sense of humor sufficiently for her to consider smiling.

"Right. I'm Detective Pezzini, Sara from homicide. Call me Sara or Detective or irresi..." She cuts herself off with an off-handed wave then gives him her hand. "So what is this guy's story? He melts metals? Oh, and sorry about your car. That sucks, how do you make an insurance claim on that?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Well, fortunately, it was SHIELD issue. I just need to fill out an incident report, not an insurance claim." says Angelo.
    He drops into the nearby chair before looking up your way, "So Detective." he says respectfully. "I guess I would be your older brother. I'm older than I look." he adds. "This guy is, believe it or not, a hit man. He has targeted government employees on the payroll of Hydra. But.. that's all officially classified. So I never said anything, right?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Nope, never said a word." Sara's head tilts to one side as she give Angelo a penetrating look. "Well, good for your car." She doesn't sit but walks around the unconscious man, the frown back as she considers his size and how deeply unconscious he is.

"What has him under? And did you do this to him? Subdue him?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Neurotoxin." says Angelo simply. "More than that I can't explain. Not because it's classified, but because I truly lack the scientific knowledge to explain how it works." he adds with a shrug.
    "Look. I know you're frustrated being stuck in here with me, but you -could- sit down and relax. You're stalking around like a caged leopard." he adds with raised brows.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
What Sara doesn't say is that something or someone in the room has her edgy, momentary flashes of another time strobe across her mind like ancient memories and this man's face or someone very similar to him are in the 'remembered' scene. It takes all her self-control not to react. The pacing keeps her concentrated.

Stopping abruptly, she asks, "Where are you from Mr. Tampambulos?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Well, I was -born- in Greece, but I lived in London for a while before relocating to Metropolis." Angelo states. All of that is one hundred percent true. HE just left out the number of years he spent in either place.
    "The irony is... with all of that, I am the heir to some meaningless title that has zero authority or money."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
A strong sense of displacement haunts Sara. She has not fully adjusted to the Witchblade nor the glimpses of other worlds and times it gives her. She hides her confusion behind a glare. "No, there is more to you than that." She spreads her hands in a gesture that could be interpreted as apology. "So, we're just going to wait for SHIELD to come get this guy? Then you'll go home after another day at the office."

Achilles has posed:
    "Well, you didn't ask for my life story. You asked where I Was from. So I told you." offers Angelo, nice and calm about it all. "And no, I highly doubt that I'll get to go home right away. I'll have hours of paperwork to do first. Incident reports, lost vehicle reports, and then reports to cover my reports, as well as having to explain why I had to travel to a NYPD precinct to wait and all. Just... it'll be a long day. Plus..."
    Now he smirks, "Technically, I am a trainee. This was my first solo pickup. I'm gonna guess that I'll be needing to explain myself to my training officer too."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"What makes you so special, Mr. Tampambulos. If your people don't get here soon, I'm going to be waiting for your life's story while the neurotoxins (she says the word with distaste) do their work." Another flash of memory make her eyes close, she forces them open with a quick intake of breath.

The sleeve of her suit jacket falls back as she rubs her temple between thumb and index finger, revealing a silver bracelet inset with a large oval red stone, she observes, "This might seem like a strange question. How old are you? Here is a stranger one: have we met before?"

Achilles has posed:
    The head of the agent tilts a bit, and his eyes go wide before they narrow. A memory flickers through his brain. I mean come on, there's a lot of experience in there. It is like doing a data search on a massive hard drive.
    "Well now, isn't -that- interesting?" he asks as he stands up slowly. Not threateningly. Just... amused. "Would you mind showing me your bracelet?" He smirks a bit as he expects you to ask why. "I think that I may have known someone else who wore one just like it a while back."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"What?" Sara's mouth opens in shock which she closes right away. Eyebrows contracting in doubt, she pulls back the cuff of her jacket to show him the open bracelet, its double arms holding a large rounded stone with highlights of fire in it at some angles.

"Here." She thrusts her arm toward him, both dubious and hopeful.

Achilles has posed:
    "Oh, it -is- the same one." Angelo states as he reaches for his wristwatch... pressing a stud to blank out the cameras watching the interrogation room.
    Then he says, "I wonder... will it react the same way if I do -this-?" he asks as he reaches to try to grip your wrist, right -on- the bracelet. Likely drawing a defensive reaction from the thing. One that cuts his palm... which he draws back... but not super quickly. He just... draws it back gently and holds his hand up to show you his palm as it heals before your eyes.
    "Yep." he states simply. Then he shrugs, "I told you. I am older than I look. But either way, I knew a previous owner of your weapon there. And a very potent weapon it is."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara flinches in anticipation of the Witchblade's reaction to being touched. An imagined snarl echos in the room as he makes contact with it. A mark of crimson blood reveals its reaction. She remembers the cameras too late and looks up in alarm.

Without asking permission, Sara grabs his wrist to examine the palm of his hand in time to see the wound, superficial granted, disappear.
"Whoa. What?" she exclaims and with a groping hand finds a chair to sit down. "When was that? When did you know her?"

Achilles has posed:
    "First of all, the cameras are good. I have funky SHIELD tech for that." Angelo says. But he lets you hold his hand and calmly waits. "I knew.. two of the wielders of that weapon. That amazing weapon that I would never dream of being worthy of.... may I have my hand back please?" he asks.
    Once his hand is released, he sits back down calmly. "The first one was in Nine Eighty Four Anno Dominae. It was in Normandy, France." He shrugs. "She tried to come save me when I had been stabbed. She had no idea about... well she had no idea. I thanked her for her bravery, and bought her a meal. You see, she had been near starvation... thought she'd gone mad from the memories the blade gave her. But after some food and drink, she calmed down. I never saw her again after that."
    A pause and a shake of her head, "The next was a woman in London in Twelve Fourteen. I noticed the bracelet on her wrist, and sought out her friendship." A pause, "Yes, only friendship. I am a gentleman. And friendship is where it remained. We met off and on for a few years."
    He turns his eyes downward and adds, "I was saddened when I heard of her death. But the good news was... unlike most bearers of the blade, she died in her bed, at the age of sixty four, surrounded by her family. Natural causes."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"That's a good trick. You sharing that technology with people?" Sara clears her throat, coping with the really big news by talking about the trivial. Rubbing her braceleted wrist with one hand, she listens to a little of its history.

There is a wistful, little girl quality to her face as she listens to his recital of some of the Witchblade's history."It stayed in France for some time, I suppose. Jeanne d'Arc carried it, you know. She did not die so peacefully but it was not with her at the end, I think." Brave and proud as she can be, Sara appears to shrink into herself. The Witchblade has a capricious mind of its own.

"Wait. You're that old?" Brows contracting, she straightens in her chair, "You're not a vampire or something. Are you?"

Achilles has posed:
    To answer the last question, Angelo stands up as he laughs softly. He steps over to the window and places his hand into the sunlight. Turning it over a couple times before drawing it back, "Not a vampire. But I -have- destroyed one or two of them in my time. I'm going to go with... or something."
    That said, he turns and heads back to his chair before pausing and leaning closer to you, "Let me say, that it is -my- honor to have lived long enough to know -three- of the blade's bearers. As for Jeanne d'Arc... I wished that I could have known her. I was actually travelling to -try- to join her fight when I heard of her death. I arrived only in time to pay my respects."
    He sighs and then sits back down, "I wager that a lot of the weird stories of immortal beings or creatures... might have started with me. They might not have, but I like to think that they did."
    But he grins a bit as he adds, "I wasn't joking when I said I have a meaningless title. I am the prince of a kingdom that ceased to exist many many centuries ago."
    One more pause before he adds, "I am not sure if it would be better or worse to tell you my real name. But.." he chuckles and shrugs, "You probably wouldn't believe me anyway."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Wide-eyed but with a satisfied set to her mouth, Sara listens to him deny being a vampire but admit to being immortal. The odd thing, the Witchblade is still new enough to her that she clearly remembers life without its magic in it, she believes him. Unquestioningly though not without a lot of curiosity.

"And a prince, to boot. I'm impressed. If we run into each other again, maybe I'll ask for your real name. Life has been strange enough recently. I've got to say."

Achilles has posed:
    "Oh, I can only imagine." says Angelo with a smile. "Life for the bearer of the blade is never boring. That much is certain." he says. "Now... I barely knew one bearer, befriended another.... and now I am here in an interrogation room with an unconscious perp, and another bearer. I am truly honored."
    But that is when his phone buzzes. "Oh, looks like my ride is here. I really need to get this guy to a non-ferrous holding cell." And that said, he levers himself up to his feet and turns to lift the guy onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry again. "Got a card? I'd love to give you a call when I'm not... you know..." he shrugs his shoulder to indicate the guy he has there.0

Sara Pezzini has posed:
The mutant lying unconscious on the table, Angelo's matter of fact attitude towards him, so much of what they've evoked is beyond her normal range of experience that it takes a moment for Sara to catch up with the conversation.

"I..." She stops clearly puzzled by what she wants to do. "I, ah, sure. I have a card. We can, ah, talk about old times. I guess." She reaches into her jacket pocket and extracts a card with her name and precinct number. "There's my private line. It was nice meeting you, Angelo."

Achilles has posed:
    "You as well Detective Pezzini. I will be calling you soon." admits Angelo.
    He steps out with a mock salute before heading off towards the exit to get into his partner's vehicle.
    With a glance back to the precinct, he smiles and slides into the car... and then he is gone. And for a few days, Sara might be asking herself if she really -had- that conversation. If she really met a weird guy like Angelo...

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Nearly two weeks pass. Time moves differently since the Witchblade came into her life, it both dilates and packs too much into her days and nights. She dreams, restlessly, as the she bonds with its past and it impacts her present.

Angelo barely gave her a heads up and she does the unthinkable and lets him come to her apartment. Folly or good instinct? It remains to be seen. Slim fitting black knit pants cut low enough to show her navel are topped with a sleeveless short top in black. She pulls a red jacket over the two and slips some mules on. After a quick application of light make up and a brush to her hair, she's ready, thinking: am I going on a date or what?

Achilles has posed:
    Well, that wasn't how Angelo was handling it. He was off duty today, and so dressed casually. And by casually, I mean bluejeans, but high quality ones. And a thin silk buttondown dress shirt with no tie -or- coat. He checked in with the security company earlier, and now is visiting the bearer of the blade.
    He ponders what an appropriate guest gift would be... and so she's of Italian descent, but a bearer of the blade. Shit. Then he has it.
    He visits his home in Metropolis, and then goes to his collection storage.... where he retrieves a piece of his own personal historical items.
    So when he knocks on the door, he has two things in his hands. One is a bottle of good thirty year old wine. Red wine. And the other is a small box... maybe four inches by four inches square, and an inch tall. Undecorated.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara was not expecting presents when she opened the door. Her gaze flicks between his hands and his indisputably handsome face. She'd forgotten; she ushers him in to the smell of cooking.

"I made us something simple to eat if that is alright with you."

Taking the bottle from him, she admires the label before putting it on the table and handing him the wine opener that waits on the counter. The little box, she sets on the table with a curious look and smile but without opening it. She adds two wine goblets to the table and sets out a plate of roasted sweet red peppers drenched in olive oil.

"Going back to my roots. I hope Italian food is alright for you? Would you pour us the wine?"

Achilles has posed:
    Watching you move about makes him grin. Angelo nods his head. "Sure. Italian is fine. I've eaten some of the -worst- food over the years. But... you have to remember. When -I- was a child, it was rude for a guest to show up without a gift for a host, or hostess."
    That said, he sets about opening the wine as he talks, "And, I felt that you deserved a connection to your roots. Well, to the blade's roots." he says as he pops the cork out and gestures to the box you set aside from it. It's... not really anything worth real money, or anything you can use in the line of duty. It is just... a token, a remembrance I have held onto for nostalgia's sake"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Still standing, she hands him a glass to fill then picks up the box. "May I? It's very old world courteous of you, you know? And, thank you for saying that about my deserving a connection. It's been quite a roller coaster. You know, there are only two, well, three people that know I have the blade. Now, you. It's a relief to talk about it. And, it doesn't seem to mind with you. I can tell."

She takes the wine glass from him, "Shall I open it?"

Achilles has posed:
    The box is four inches by four inches. And Angelo just smiles warmly. "Trust me, being able to confide the truth that most would never understand... is quite a relief and a weight lifted off of one's shoulders. I -do- get that. Believe me." he offers.
    But when the box is opened, inside is an old, somewhat rusted but lovingly preserved metal disc.
    "What you have there is known as a couter. That is a piece of plate armor that was worn to protect the elbow... since it was difficult to armor joins well. I was -told- that it was a piece of Jeanne D'Arc's armor."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"A cou-tay?" Sara tries out the pronunciation, blinking as a memory of being dressed for battle fills her thoughts so thoroughly she doesn't see anything else. Another blink and the memory, or vision? She's never sure, dissipates. Taking a deep breath, the box still in her open hand, she stammers, recovering her sight of the here and now.

"I...I, this must be something very precious to you. You've carried it with you all these years. Are you sure? I mean, I really mean, thank you."

Achilles has posed:
    "I always felt that I held that for a purpose. I now know that the purpose was to restore it to its proper owner. That owner is you." suggests Angelo as he sits down at the table and lifts one glass of wine in each hand, holding one out your way. "So, would you like to hear a story? Odds are you already know a bit of it... from stories written by a rather famous author."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Box in the palm of her hand, she traces the metal disk with a finger, a faint smile on her face. "Of course, I'd like to hear the story. Something tells me that you are good at storytelling, Angelo. Please go ahead."

Sara seats herself with the box close enough to her on the table for her to be able to see its contents and Angelo's face. Taking up her glass, she gestures for him to continue then holds the glass up to sniff the wine. Her eye's widen and she nods in silent appreciation.

"Go on."

Achilles has posed:
    Leaning back in his chair, Angelo lifts his wine glass, swirls it about just a bit and then takes a small sip. He nods at the flavor and sets the glass down. "The story begins a long time ago. You see, I never asked to be what I am. But my mother was given to be the wife of a King of Pthia." He pauses and adds, "The gods bade her wed him because there was a prophecy about the son of my mother bringing death to his father. The King of the gods -wanted- to take her as a wife but... the prophecy kept him from doing so. So, my mother married the king, who was a son of a god himself. It was an age where things like that happened a lot and... yes, the gods were real, at one point, they had power such as you might not believe. But.. in fear for my life, my mother treated me with some of the most dangerous substance in the universe in hope that it might protect me. It turns out that it did. Ever since then... I could not die from any means that has been tested thus far."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Your story. The myth has it that the child was dipped in the River Styx by his mother holding him by his heel. Achille's heel." Shaking her head in mild disbelief, she poses her wine on the table, sitting up straighter.

"You're Achilles!" She exclaims softly, adding in a whisper, "Wow."

Achilles has posed:
    "The heel. It was a story. I -was- dipped yes, but there was no weakness in the heel. I still love how legend seems to think that was a weak point." he offers with a smirk. "But I am sure that the ambrosia ointment and fed to me had something to do with it too. Perhaps that was why the waters of the Styx did not kill me, but instead made me unkillable."
    He shakes his head a bit and shrugs, "You really know how to ruin the dramatics of a storyteller by revealing the ending right at the start. I bet you skip ahead to the end of a mystery novel, don't you?" he asks amusedly.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Oh, oh, oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that." Hands over her face in embarrassment, she shakes her head in pure dismay. "I...don't. I like the tension. Well, sometimes. But, I didn't mean to do that just now. It just popped out of my mouth. Will you forgive me?"

Achilles has posed:
    A hand reaching out for your arm, Angelo laughs, "Nothing to forgive. I just wanted to tweak your nose a bit. "It's fine but yes. I am Achilles, son of Peleus, king of the Myrmidons, grandson of Zeus, of Pthia and Thetis, Neriad, and daughter of the sea god Nereus. I had a rather particular parentage, yes." he offers with a shrug, "But where the legends got it wrong was the heel. I am not impervious to harm. I just cannot die, and I heal faster than most." He shrugs, "Paris -did- shoot me in the foot, but by that time, I had grown so bitter and weary of war that I wanted out. But tell me... I was Achilles of Greece, and every Greek looked to me to solve all of their problems by winning their war single-handedly. It was exhausting, and I had so much blood on my hands."
    He sighs and looks down to the table, "I had done things that to this day, I cannot forgive myself for. Hector..." he pauses to take a breath, "The greatest warrior I had ever fought... I killed him without mercy and without care for the wife and son he left behind, because he did his duty, and killed my cousin when my cousin pretended to be me."
    "I blamed him for his forthright duty and then desecrated his body before his people, his city, his father, and his wife. I killed an Amazonian Princess. I killed hundreds of Trojans, and for what? Because Agamemnon wanted glory. And I was -willing- to do this because I thought that it would make my name live forever. But... after -ten- years, the war had dragged on and on, and I was done with it. So I let them think that a shot to my foot killed me. It's not like they had EKG's to tell that I was alive. I let them think I had died, and then crept off to start a new life.... not realizing that I couldn't even die of old age. That was three thousand and two hundred years ago, plus or minus a few decades."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Particular is hardly the word for it," she says, a little awestruck as she tries to put the myth to the handsome man sharing a bottle of wine with her. "It was a long and heavy burden. Why didn't the gods intervene? Though, I suppose they did..." Sara frowns and sips her wine thoughtfully.

"It'a tangled story between you and Odysseus, isn't it? And, I have to admit I mix the Iliad and the Odyssey up."

Silence follows, eyes down, the young woman considers his words. When she raises them there is tender sympathy in them, "That is a heavy burden to carry for so many years, An..Ach...Angelo."

Achilles has posed:
    "No less heavy than the burden that you carry upon your wrist now. I have seen war on every continent, fought in every large scale conflict this world has had to offer. Not because I wanted to, but because it is the thing that I am best at." offers Angelo with a sad smile. "But... ever since Troy, I no longer seek out war for the purpose of my own glory. I fight to try to help end the conflict more quickly, and because if I cannot die, then maybe I can replace a soldier who -can- die."
    "And in the modern day, it is a new age of heroes. Let them have the glory. I will help in my own way."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Should I continue to call you Angelo or Achilles?" The question steps aside from his comment on the burden she carries. Her left hand covers the bracelet protectively, strokes it with a question in her fingers.

Apologetically, she says, at last, unable to talk about the Gauntlet at the moment, "Everyone carries a burden, don't they? I don't want to be a hero, either." Taking a quick breath, "Well, ah, are you hungry? Everything is ready."

Achilles has posed:
    "I think in order to not slip in public, let's just go with Angelo. That way you won't have trouble reflexively using the name that pops into your mind." the man says, "But... I do have one favor to ask of you. If the past is any indicator, every bearer of the blade suffers from dreams, the likes of which makes them question their sanity. Please do not let the Witchblade make you wonder if you are losing your grip. I ask you to share with me any dreams that you are comfortable talking about, in hopes that talking about them might help you cope with them."
    He is dead serious for just another moment, before he grins. "And yes, I would love to eat."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Ah, the dreams." Shaking her head and biting her lip she goes to the kitchen counter and starts bringing dishes to the table. A steaming bowl of hot tagliatelle dressed with earthy mushroom sauce, butter lettuce and arugula dressed with balsamic vinegar, a block of parmesan cheese.

"Hey, I went simple on the meal. I hope you like this," she says when she is finished. "Let's eat. Tell me how you came to America, Angelo."

Achilles has posed:
    "The meal is far less important than the company." says Angelo, "Trust me, I have eaten a lot of terrible meals with people who make it all worthwhile." That said, he stands and asks, "Is there anything that I can help with? I have found that I am not unskilled in the kitchen."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"No, no sit. It's all done." She waves a hand, motioning for him to keep his seat. "I bet you have had time to learn how to cook. I like men that can fend for themselves in the kitchen. You know, down with the stereotypes." The last dish is set on the table. "You could pour me some wine, please. And, I do want to hear how you came here and decided to stay."

Achilles has posed:
    Chuckling, Angelo shakes his head, "I'll be honest. I've had time to learn a -lot- of things over the centuries. But.. I -liked- to cook." That said, he reaches and pours wine into your cup and then his own. "But... with three thousand years of history, what you ask for could be a -long- story."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Angelo," she says raising her glass, smiling encouragingly, "We don't have to do it in a day. But, I'm interested. I have my job and my time off. Sometimes all I have is my job but tonight, I have time. Just why America, now. Not Europe or whatever you feel like telling me. Where have you not lived, for one? Or, ah, I don't know. I remember things, now. But it's not like having lived though them. Well, not all the time. Whatever suits you!"

Achilles has posed:
    "Well, there are few places that I have not lived. Antarctica I suppose." says Angelo as he lifts his glass and sips. "I have not lived in Argentina, but I -have- lived in Peru and Brazil. Mexico... all over Africa, India." and with a shrug, he sets his glass down and reaches for a helping of the food. "I spent a few centuries in France, and then a few more in Britain. But.."
    He smiles and adds, "I came to the States in the late 1800's. I was fascinated by this emerging nation. A nation of dreamers and idealists. They were recovering from the bloodiest war history had ever seen, with themselves."
    "And then... I stayed. I have lived in the United States since eighteen eighty four, and I have found that I truly enjoy this nation, these people. I respect the spirit of the land, and the principles of the Republic. Not the politicians, but the ideals that founded the land. So..." he shrugs, "Now I see the new age of heroes. In my day, a hero was a demigod. Someone of divine descent. Now, heroes can come from any source, any people... it is amazing to witness, but I find that once again, I am incapable of standing on the sidelines, watching others do what I can help with."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Eyebrows raised at his litany of countries, Sara nods, sipping her wine. She interrupts, once, to say, "Pass me your plate." She heaps it with pasta and passes it back to him.

"It does make sense, after all you've seen. It says a lot about yourself wanting to stay and watch this very up and down experiment in democracy we are carrying out. Please eat."

She takes a bite, and nods at the taste before saying, "We share that, you know. It's why I'm in the police. Daughter of a police officer, no less. You'd think I'd know better but my father and I thought alike."

Achilles has posed:
    "In my childhood and my first life, we did not have peace officers. We did not have... a police force. All we had were soldiers. I wish we had thought of armed civil authorities in the past. But you realize that Democracy began in -my- home nation, don't you?" he asks with a smirk, "And what you have here is almost a mockery of democracy. No offense, but a Republic is worthwhile, but not truly democratic."
    He slides his plate closer and takes a bite, appreciating the flavor before nodding, "Quite tasty, yes." he says, "And I do respect this experimental nation. I could explain it in depth if you want. But the end result is, I am here to -be- an American. To share in the spirit of it all. And you are a legacy of service and protection. You do honor to your family."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"You make me sound so much better than I am. And now, I have this thing." She turns her wrist to him, lips pressed together. Her green eyes grow distant a moment but with a small shrug she goes back to eating.

"Tell me something that is uniquely American. I know that so many of the ideas of the Enlightenment which was the birthplace of the ideas that govern America come from Greece. What do you think comes from us?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Your second amendment for one." says Angelo as he eats slowly, savoring the bites. Not eating like he will die if he doesn't scarf it all down. "Not the version that is quoted in Texas every fourteen point seven seconds. But the origin of it. The states each have the right to train militias and arm them. Civilian soldiers who can be called on to rise up if the Federal Government becomes a tyranny. That was lost somewhere along the way, but it is a concept that no government in the history of the world would have considered. But given how this nation began, one cannot help but understand -why- the US of A went that route."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Or rise up if invaded by a foreign power. Yes. I never have thought of that as being uniquely American, I've always thought that the Declaration of Independence saying we are endowed by our creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, was unique. True the French did say something similar when they revolted against the monarchy. I can't say I know the history of ideas of that period well enough to know the origin of a lot of the writers opinions. I'm a bad scholar."

She eats a few more thoughtful bites, sipping her wine between them. "But I hope I know what protects people's rights. "You would make a good politician, you know. Or maybe not. Certainly, a good teacher."

Achilles has posed:
    "One thing that is -not- uniquely American." offers Angelo as he shakes his head and takes a bite. "Those who seek out politics, who want to attain positions of power and authority, are usually the last ones who -should- be in such positions. The best leaders of men are invariably those who want to be as far away from leadership as they can be... but who still cannot stop themselves from helping wherever and whenever they can. These days, I am happy to be behind the scenes. I own a bodyguard placement firm, and I work for SHIELD. Neither of which put me anywhere on the front lines of things. But you.. you are the first line of defense, and now you have one of the most powerful weapons in history to use." He inclines his head, "You keep asking about me. I understand how you feel a need to solve a mystery. But what about -you-? I have heard ... it could be mistaken, but I have heard that the bearers of the blade are of the same bloodline, or perhaps... the reason the memories are passed on is because the blade seeks reincarnations of the same soul each time it is wielded."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara's head lowers as she nods. She puts down her fork and stares at her plate.Taking a long breath, she nods, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "You might know more about it than I do, at this point. There is a man. He possessed it once and he has spent his whole life tracking it. He told me that it only goes to those who are worthy of it. He also mentioned bloodlines. It gets stranger and stranger. I don't feel like I'm the reincarnation of someone but I have a lot of strange dreams." She looks up at him, worry etching lines in her forehead and spreads her hands.

Achilles has posed:
    "Let's be honest, I only know what your forbearer saw fit to share with me, which was likely precious little." He scoops a bit of pasta up and eats it, chewing slowly before smiling your way, "Seriously Detective Pezzini, humility and modesty have their place. But you bear the Witchblade. You must realize how special that makes you. How unique you are. Besides..." And before he can finish that thought, he shakes his head, "No. That wouldn't be helpful."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Look, Angelo, I have my pride but I don't go around thinking about how special I am. It's all I can do sometimes not to feel just plain victimized by this." She holds our her wrist.

Holding his gaze, she says earnestly, "I want any information about it. It's not exactly something that comes up in Google searches, you know? Besides, I don't feel special, just over my head a lot of times. So, unique I might be but.. Besides, what wouldn't be helpful?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Just a personal observation." Angelo admits. But he chuckles, "I tell you what. I will search the journals I have kept over the centuries because... I can't always remember things that happened last week, let alone last millennia." At that, he grins and takes the last bite of his pasta. "That was quite good. Some people seem to think that the only way to cook is to put so much spice into everything that the real flavor is covered up. I am glad that you do not feel that way."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"If the ingredients are good, they can speak for themselves. A cook's job is to bring out the best in them, isn't it?" She smiles at the complement and takes his plate, then hands over the salad plate. Standing, she adds the dressing and tosses the salad with a few deft lifts of the wooden fork and spoon that had been laid at its side. Eyebrows lifted in question, she holds up the utensils, salad held loosely between them.

"The wine is excellent, by the way." A glance is sent his way, her head tilted to one side, then she looks away, before observing, "It's odd how comfortable I am around you, Angelo. It is like we've met before."

Achilles has posed:
    "In a very real sense, we really have. Or if I knew a previous bearer, the -blade- remembers me. It probably helps that I fought side by side with her. So... trust."
    He inclines his head and admits, "I must say, I find it most unusual to have the salad -after- the entre. Not wrong, just different." But he grins, "I like new and different things. Even when they are also old and familiar." Okay, that wasn't a statement loaded with multiple meanings, was it? It was?! I HAD NO IDEA!

Achilles has posed:
    The conversation continues, but is a lot less intense and dramatic. The two finish dinner, salad, and dessert. IT is amazing how comfortable two total strangers can be after one or two meetings. Destiny? The machinations of the gods? Fucked up luck? Hard to say. But as a gentleman, Angelo excuses himself after dinner and promises to call later in the week...