2029/Just my luck. Yep.

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Just my luck. Yep.
Date of Scene: 09 June 2020
Location: Brooklyn
Synopsis: Revelations and rescues. Fun and frustrating times.
Cast of Characters: Achilles, Sara Pezzini

Achilles has posed:
    It's been a long setup. A case that some agents have been working on. The big problem being that most of them are long term veterans, meaning they are, for the most part, known to Hydra. The fact that Hydra is trafficking in high end, high tech weapons. The fact that they are shipping them in through New York Harbor puts it squarely in the NYPD territory. But the fact that it is Hydra and an international conspiracy means that SHIELD is involved.
    When it boils down, agents known to Hydra can't be used. This led to yet another case where Agent Tampambulos volunteered for activities well beyond the level of a trainee. But since the important folks at SHIELD know he's more than just some trainee helped there.
    Long story short, he's in a business suit, posing as a potential buyer. The problem is... it's become an auction. A long lasting, boring auction. The good news is Agent Tampambulos can afford to front the money at least.
    On the other side, the Port Authority clued the NYPD into a smuggling operation. It came to Homicide when a port employee was found dead because they poked their nose in the wrong place. It was deemed... weird, since there was no cause of death that forensics could find, and the dead man didn't exist in -any- database. So... time for the Pez Dispenser to do her thing and dispense justice correctly.
    The investigation led to an old warehouse owned by a shell company which was a subsidiary of a fake company owned by someone who doesn't exist. But... something in your gut tells you Irons is involved. The warehouse was found, and a 'calling all cars' would be noticed far too early....

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Homicide was chockablock with cases. Spring weather? Particularly strong heroin on the streets? Everyone has their theories and bags under the eyes, trying to keep in front of the caseload. Sara was no exception though she fared better than her colleagues having the Witchblade, source of all her troubles and of all her powers at hand.

Increasingly, even as a rookie detective, the 'weird' cases landed on her desk. Detectives are much more willing to share the 'hard' cases, which will likely go cold than the more mundane murders.

Paperwork kept her at the desk most of the day. The sun is bathing the sky red by the time she can make it out to the warehouse. Stowing her bike around the corner, she puts the kickstand down and shakes out her hair from under the anonymous black helmet. She's dressed for the street, purple running shoes, black stretch jeans that won't hold her back in a run, and her black leather jacket that has survived so long that the black looks brown. Under it, armed to the teeth with her police-issue Glock, her favorite snub-nosed gun, in an ankle holster and the Witchblade, she is ready to explore.

Achilles has posed:
    Things are seemingly smooth inside the warehouse. Though time consuming. Achilles finds himself wondering though, if they are just stalling, drawing it out for some reason. His tactical and strategic acumen are put to the test as he starts noticing little tells. Behavioral cues.
    The other potential buyers are just.... not right. Something about them. That is when he notices a look shared between one of the 'buyers' and one of the 'sellers'. They know each other. He's sure of it.
    That means... this is all one big setup. Maybe Hydra is trying to slip the authorities some mis-information. Or maybe they are trying to get a field test of some of the weapons. Or maybe there are no weapons and they just want to put a black eye on SHIELD's face. But now that he thinks this through, he glances about surreptitiously, and comes to the belief that he is the only one in the building who is not an operative of Hydra.
    Even so, he is not afraid. I mean does it really take courage when you can't die? He merely plays his role out for now, waiting for a moment, for a chance to break out of his cover and take care of business.
    Another small detail. He isn't wearing his bronze bracers, because they would stand out. So he's without his magical gear. That should not really matter though.
    Outside, Detective Pezzini finds herself approaching from cover, and finds an exterior door guarded by two men. Well, technically three. She already spotted the third guard on overwatch, set up so that if someone takes down the other two, he'll see it. The fact that this guy is nowhere near the first two, but in a position to -see- those two.. and to be seen by them, means that they are not taking chances. But... the detective is talented. Odds are she and her new weapon can do something about that anyway.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Becoming part of the Witchblade, allowing it into her life, is a day to day struggle. Sara is quite frankly afraid of it taking over her senses.

Case in point, it pulses on her wrist, strong enough for her to slow down and inexplicably have the feeling to look up. She spots a watchdog on the watchdogs. Now, that gives her the willies. Only professional operators know that trick.

Backtracking, she circles the building the man is stationed on and uses a fire escape to get to the roof. Unsuspecting that he would be taken down, the man doesn't hear her come up from behind him. Grabbing him in a chokehold, she pulls him back from the edge of the building. A struggle ensues, which leaves him zip-tied to the fire escape. Back down the steps, presents her with the dilemma of what to do with the two guards.

Achilles has posed:
    The two guards down below are unsuspecting. But it is only a matter of time before the watchdog fails to check in. The watchdog was armed with a suppressed Heckler & Koch PSG-1. And by suppressed I mean it is an entire barrel designed to contain the sound of the round being fired. It is even loaded with subsonic rounds. Not that anyone is suggesting the guards should be sniped. Just... it's an option.
    Inside, things are getting dramatic. Still playing his role, our spy makes a bid, and then feels the cold steel of a handgun suppressor pressed to the back of his neck. "Well, took you long enough." Achilles says. His hands come up as he plays along still. But now not trying to keep up the role so much as trying to keep things calm.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara took a little present with her in the form of the Heckler & Koch. She has no desire to use it on the guards who are innocents until they prove themselves otherwise. No. She is going to find a way into the warehouse that will minimize death. Retreating from the guards takes her back around to another fire escape, unguarded, which puzzles her. Up onto the roof, she finds the explanation; another man has that station. He has a com in his hand as though about to check-in. A rush at him makes his thumb drop off the call button, and she finds herself in another fight. The man decks her, hard enough for her to see stars as she rolls on the roof, trying to regain her footing. She is the one breaking and entering now, as they grapple, she tries to reason with him.

"What's so important in there that you need armed guards? Don't make me hurt you?"

A headbutt is his rebuttal. The Witchblade sits on her wrist, mute and unresponsive, leaving the fight with the well-trained man in her hands. Reeling back from him, she recovers enough to whirl into a roundhouse kick to his head then another to his stomach to take him down. Three more zip ties, ankles, and hand, then attached to each other, leave him struggling and angry on the ground recovering the breath knocked out of him.

Once in through the door he was guarding, Sara listens to what might be transpiring below.

Achilles has posed:
    That is when the German accented voices can be heard. And one lightly English accented one that she cannot help but remember from just a few days ago. "Look." says Achilles aka Angelo, "I am sure that there is some rational explanation. Surely you are not all... oh, well I guess you are. Bollux for me then." he mutters.
    You manage to get to a spot where you can see into the main room. Down there you see a dozen men and women with weapons aimed at the one man who is obviously not their friend.
    "So, I surmise that the only reason you have not shot me yet, is that you're not quite one hundred percent sure just who I am or if I am indeed associated with your enemies." But he smirks and shrugs, "I will give you one chance. One chance to end this without most of you requiring surgery or at least casts for broken bones."
    The sheer balls of this man. Even assuming he is who he says he is, how could he act so casually in a situation like this? But... while you are preparing to do whatever it is you're doing next... the weapon behind Achilles goes off. The bullet strikes him in the back of the neck. In anyone else, it would have exploded out of his throat with a spray of blood all over.
    Sure, Achilles goes down like a sack of flour, tumbling from the impact. This... is a moment where you have to wonder.. was he full of shit? Was he just lying to me about his age and all that was just made up?
    But that is just for a moment before he turns his forward tumble into a roll and comes up with one hand grasping the wrist of a woman, and his other hand balled up in a fist which puts her down with a shattered jaw from the force of the uppercut he just struck her with. You -heard- the impact from where you were.
    And then he turns, taking the MP-7 Submachinegun from the hand of the now -very- unconscious woman, and turning to begin firing at the agents of Hydra. I mean what can he do? They shot first, right?

Sara Pezzini has posed:

The tableau down below makes her swear under her breath as she calculates the odds: twelve to one. She looks at her wrist with frustration if she ever needed the Witchblade, it's now, but it wraps her arm, quiescent.

Angelo's perfect coolness as he tries to talk his way out of the fight is astonishing. Sara watches the woman raise her weapon behind him and take aim. Without a moment of thought, she launches her way into the battle, quixotic, because Angelo, her new friend, is undoubtedly dead. But, he's not, in the shock of the moment, she feels the Witchblade take on weight, as it grows from a pure red stone set into a silver bracelet into a fanged glove. The ring of metal zings and a blade extends from the glove.

Dropping from the catwalk circling the warehouse, she cuts the woman with the gun down. She imagines a snarl fill the air as she whirls to the left, holding the gauntlet up like a shield as shots rebound. A feint to the left, and she spins to cut down the man to the right before charging a third shooter.

Achilles has posed:
    War. War is a profession. It is something learned, and something that is rarely perfected. Some people have the benefit of time. The benefit of being able to learn from the sorts of mistakes that would kill anyone else.
    For a man of his size.... now not superhuman. Just large and muscular, Achilles moves with speed and grace when needed. He is pumped up on adrenaline now, -and- fully making use of the demigod level endurance and stamina that he possesses.
    In a situation like this, one does not pause to survey their handiwork. To slow down and look closely at one thing, is to ignore the other ten. With two short controlled bursts, he puts down two of the Hydra soldiers facing him. The forty round extended magazine now down to thirty four rounds.
    And then ... the Witchblade. He cannot help but be astounded by the beauty of what he is seeing. So much for not pausing. For not stopping. He gets shot. What? It happens. It hurts, but it doesn't penetrate his flesh. But it does shock him back to reality.
    He surges forward and grabs the shooter's hand just before another shot can be taken. Twisting the wrist, he turns and launches a vicious spinning thrust kick into the man's chest. And now he has two guns. But he prefers to fight up close and personal.
    The woman gets cut down. The one that you used the Witchblade upon. It is a spray of gore and blood that indicates that her merely human body is down. And then guns fire your way, aimed center mass... only to spang and spark off of the Witchblade as it grows armor over your flesh (and jacket for that matter) just in time to shield you against a shot from behind.
    Now, the weirdest part of a real fight. A fight to the death where the only thing that matters is winning... fairness and points as afterhoughts... it's amazing how long it feels like it takes. But even more amazing how quick it is really over.
    So after seven seconds of eternity, Achilles stands with a pair of SMG's in his hands, seven bullet holes in his clothes. Bruises on his flesh... and six bodies around him. He got half of them. The good news, he left half for you. With the Witchblade's hep, the merely human Hydra operatives had no chance. By the end, the last one was turning to run when the Witchblade extended a long blade and stabbed into the back of the knee, coming out the front in a way that made it impossible for the fleeing shooter to run.
    In pain and shock, he turned to empty his clip at his attacker... an attacker protected by one of the most powerful weapons in the universe. Snowballs have better chances in hell....

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Afterward, Sara will remember the battle in a series of strobing vignettes lit by the muzzle flash of guns. A bullet ricochets grazing her cheek, which bleeds freely, as she bends down to charge the last man standing, the blade extended from her glove glinting orange as she drives it through his chest.

The fighting fury still on her, Sara turns to Angelo, chest heaving, and bites off her words, angrily, "What are you doing here?"

Achilles has posed:
    Inclining his head as he lets the weapons fall to the ground, Angelo just shakes his head, "I -could- ask you much the same thing. But... instead, I will say that I think you might've got here at precisely the right moment."
    That said, he turns and approaches the guy who he kicked in the chest. The guy has broken ribs, and is in -immense- pain. But Angelo crouches down and inclines his head, "So, cut down twelve, and what, twenty four more will rise?" he asks as he shrugs, "Here is a prisoner for you Detective. Alive for now. He might even stay that way." So cold, so heartless. This is the -soldier- that he spoke of. Not one out for glory. Not one who fights because he loves it. But a man who fights when he must, and when he fights... he fights to win, period.
    "I can tell you, this was a Hydra operation. But that's about as far as I can go with it. I was infiltrating, but obviously they were on to me...." And as he speaks to -you-, he turns and approaches, reaching into a pocket to pull out a handkerchief, "You're bleeding." he says as he reaches up to gently press the cloth to your cheek.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara slaps his hand away with the unarmored hand, mouth set in a fierce frown, she looks around at the carnage. In the distance, police sirens can be heard approaching. Around them, bodies bleed and the one alive gasps at every breath.

"So, HYDRA and SHIELD are duking it out in the City again?"

The gauntlet has retracted now, her clothes only one bullet hole worse for the wear.

"Who has jurisdiction here, Angelo? Is this a SHIELD operation or something to bring NYPD in on. -I- thought I was on a homicide investigation. Instead, I get caught in some sting of SHIELD's making or is this a HYDRA sting meant to entrap, I don't know. You?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Okay. The plan was to figure out where they were getting their shipments from. Not to blow things up like this. But.. they blew my cover and tried to kill me." Angelo offers as he steps back, "SHIELD is -not- trying to claim any jurisdiction here. I am totally ceding this to NYPD. Now... obviously we can't tell them that I got shot seven times and am fine." He's still calm, but then he notices the look in her eyes, "I -am- fine." he says, pausing before he says, "Sara.... kind of a part of the whole sentence. "I can -tell- you that I cannot die. But I can't think of a better way to -show- you."
    Then he pauses and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "So, blades and bullets took these guys down. And that one saw it. So, I'll let you decide... do I stay and answer questions, or perhaps meet you at your place later to explain -everything-?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"I'm in trouble here, Angelo. Trying to explain this." She glares at him like an angry hawk brought to the lure, gesturing to the bodies around her. Completely out of character, she walks over to the last man of the group left, who cowers at her approach. Perhaps, with good reason. She decks him, explaining over her shoulder to Angelo.

"Let's see what his story is when he comes to? Right. Get out of here. I'm putting this out to be a fight among thieves since I never pulled a gun. The rest, the ones I tied up on the roof are just me trying to get in here and witnessing this whole thing go down. Out."

Sara's shoulders lift in a sigh as she shakes her head in disgust, "Better go now. I'll see you later."

Achilles has posed:
    "You are amazing Sara Pezzini." offers Angelo as he brushes past you on his way towards the exit. The fact that his fingerprints aren't all over the place is just another of SHIELD's bag of tricks. Latex finger coverings that alter the prints. Gotta love the R&D folks.
    Either way, as he brushes past, there's a flash of the past. The comradery between the 13th century bearer and one Achilles, after a fight, when they brushed hands, and there was an electric tingle. Yet the two of them remained nothing but friends, despite that.
    But that flash hits you and he's already out the door, calling for a pickup....
    And hours later, after all of the paperwork which... let's be honest, he really shouldn't have stuck you with. He is approaching your building with a single rose in hand. It's an apology and thank you all in one. I mean how is he going to top the Jeanne D'Arc armor piece? He's not, so he won't try.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
If hot water heaters had an endless supply, Sara would have staid in longer. She sat under the pounding stream of water till her fingers wrinkled and her behind hurt, trying to figure it out.

Dragging herself out, she goes about the apartment - part loft, part studio, dressing, picking up after herself but distracted. She keeps finding herself holding a pillow looking abstracted by what she saw earlier.

Two hours pass this way, to find her dressed in comfortable jeans and knit top, her feet in slippers. She always thought it was crazy to wear shoes inside. Not a thought for food. Delivery is going to be her savior.

Achilles has posed:
    Two hours and seven minutes to be precise. The bell on your loft rings, and it appears that Angelo has taken the time to clean up, dress down, and shop for a rose late at night. WEIRD! But either way, he is dressed in simple bluejeans and a polo shirt in a deep forest green color that makes his green eyes pop. Habits are hard to break sometimes.
    When the door opens, he holds up the flower with a sheepish smile while saying, "The traditional apology gift. Is this appropriate?" he asks.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara's face crumples, eyebrows drawn, mouth set in a straight line as she looks between the rose and his face. His face. Those eyes. She wants to shut the door in his face because she felt it, too. How could he stand losing another person? Her mouth opens and shuts and she turns, leaving him at the door, relieved that some insane stream of invective didn't come pouring out of her mouth.

"Are you hungry?" Is the first neutral thing that she can make herself say.

Achilles has posed:
    With a casual shrug, Angelo remarks, "I could eat." He stays in the doorway though, old world manners and all. "May I come inside Detective Pezzini? Or should I remain on your doorstep for our entire conversation? Whichever way you prefer, I am good with."
    And yeah, while he might have lost people in the past, there's something to the idea that with a bearer of the blade... ther eis always the next one who will remember experiences of the past, and thus not be -entirely- lost.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Startled at her own bad manners, Sara turns and gestures half-angrily, half-contritely to the couch.

"What should we order? I don't have a thing in the house." She gestures at the double glass door fridge that would be at home in a convenience store which stands mostly empty.

Achilles has posed:
    "Oh well, had I known... there was a nice Chinese place on the corner." offers Angelo with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder. "Or if you prefer, I could run to the market and get some ingredients to make something simple, like an omelet?" he asks with a smirk on his face. "Or would you rather I just order pizza and be done with it?" he asks as he steps inside and approaches the sofa.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Chinese food, would be great. Sichuan chicken, moo shi pork, dumplings, rice! I am so famished. Let's either go down and get it or have it delivered. Don't go running. Okay?" She stops pacing to stand looking at him, her mouth pressed into an unhappy line, eyes concerned.

"I'll just call. We've got stuff to catch up on, I guess."

Achilles has posed:
    "We could catch up while we walk, but it would be less private. So yes... call. Let me cover it though?" he asks. "I'll pay cash when they arrive." But he leans back on the sofa, rolling the rose's stem between thumb and forefinger as he inclines his head.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"What would you like?" She has the restaurant on speed dial and begins her part of the order while waiting for his which she adds. "Yep, Pezzini. I'll ring you in. Yep. Thanks. See you in about twenty minutes. That's great."

Food on the way is a relief. The Witchblade for all it gives, is demanding. She seats herself on the opposite side of the couch, a foot drawn up for her to wrap her arms around. "That was a crazy scene today. Where do we start?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Cashew chicken is my traditional order. Extra order of Rangoon." says Angelo. But when you sit down, he shrugs, "Well. I was doing my job. I am sorry that you got dragged into it. I am also sorry that you had to learn the hard way that I am... indeed, unable to die. I can only imagine what it felt like to watch a new friend get shot like that." He shakes his head and then holds out the rose, "As I said, I owe you an apology, and I cannot top the gift I gave you the other day, so.. a rose."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"No, you can't top that gift. But, you shouldn't have to top that gift either, Angelo." She unfolds from the couch then holds out her hand to take it from him. A question tilts her head to the side, wrinkles her forehead, with a deep indrawn breath she starts to say something but changes her mind.

Taking the rose she walks over to the kitchen counter and takes down a bud vase, fills it with water and sets the rose in it. After placing it on the dining room table where they both can see it, she returns to the couch where she folds herself back up into the corner.

"That's a lot to unpack. Ah. Bullets hurt. Do you ever get used to it, Angelo? That's one, much less what it does to people who know you. That's..." Bearing down hard on how it makes her feel, narrows her eyes and requires a long drawn shuddered breath. "I don't want to talk about that. But, you don't have to be sorry about it. That's item one out of like twenty. So you know."

Achilles has posed:
    The odds are, the touches will have similar sparks. But Angelo has no desire to push that. Also, he doesn't want anything that seems dictated by fate rather than by the human heart. He listens carefully, attentively. He watches you move and cannot help but admire the curves and way you do move. But not in a way that might feel like a hungry or dirty-old-man leer. He just calmly observes.
    When you come back and begin speaking, he shrugs, "Experiences are what they are. I have never known a time in my life when I was vulnerable. I was an infant when my mother fed me ambrosia, bathed me in it, and -then- baptized me in the river."
    That said, he takes a deep breath, "Yes, bullets hurt. More powerful ones have even broken my skin. I am not impervious to harm. I just always get better." A pause before he looks down at his hands, "What you saw me doing.... In my long life, I have taken pains to learn things. To grow better at peaceful arts. I am a passable sketch artist, and I have learned some advanced mathematics. I could likely be a chef in a restaurant, and when I was growing up, everyone needed to know how to repair their own clothing. So I am fairly good with needle and thread. But... in all of my years, there has only been one skill... one talent that came to me naturally, and that I never needed to work hard to learn. I am a warrior. I regret that I must be such, but so long as there are people, there will be conflict. And when I fight, I fight to win."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Nodding thoughtfully at intervals, Sara's eyes unfocus as she listens, trying to imagine the child impervious to harm, growing into a man. A man whose hands wield weapons with the innate skill of an artist, who feels both condemned to fulfill the destiny that his hands seem to dictate and the need to do it well.

"I can relate to some of that. The Witchblade is something like having a gift that shapes and dictates who I can be." She traces a finger around the raised red stone that sometimes appears like a baleful red eye then looks up at him.

"The invulnerability is hard to watch, you know." A pause. "What does a mortar round or grenade do to you, Angelo?" She leans intently towards him, arm still clutching her knee. "We haven't even gotten to why SHIELD was there? Why were you there? Who were those people?" There is more. Like she said: there is a lot to unpack.

Achilles has posed:
    "So many questions, so few truths." offers Angelo with a shake of his head, "There are times that I wish that I knew what it felt like to -be- vulnerable. So that I could value how difficult life can be for those I spend time around." But then he leans his head back and closes his eyes.... delving into memory as he struggles to recall details long gone. "I have never been struck by a mortar shell. But during World War Two, I was caught in three grenade explosions, and once I was in a building that was demolished by Panzer fire. That was not fun let me tell you."
    He brings his eyes back to yours and says, "I could give you the gory details but the interesting fact is that a fragmentation grenade is very lethal. But in the end, it is filled with lots of tiny... sharp and jagged, but tiny bullets accelerated to high speeds. It stings, and a few of them penetrate the flesh, but are expelled shortly thereafter."
    He pauses then and inclines his head, "It is said that the gods themselves bathed in the waters of the Styx to become truly immortal. Zeus is my Great Grandfather, and Poseidon is my Grandfather." A pause. "I guess with gods, inbreeding is not quite the same as with mortals. But... on to your next question. I was supposedly an unknown quantity. New enough to SHIELD that Hydra was not supposed to recognize me. But... either SHIELD has a leak, or it was literally set up so that the only person who was not one of theirs, they knew would be SHIELD. Either way..." He shrugs, "I volunteered because should someone else be at the sharp end of the spear... expendable is a good word for it."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara lays her head on her knee, eyes closed when she is not watching Angelo intently as he describes what it is like to survive fatal attacks then wistfully wondering what it would be like to be vulnerable. "Does it make you feel distant from the world? Or, reckless? Though I suppose reckless might not be the right word?" She essays a smile at that.

"Gods that walk the earth. An artifact that gives the women who possess it power. We walk among myths, don't we?"

Leaving that speculation behind, she returns to the more concrete, "SHIELD sent you into a very dangerous situation because you're invulnerable? But with no back up? Or were they expecting you to get out of there with information before they brought the troops in? NYPD is very unhappy, by the way."

Achilles has posed:
    Rather than commenting on the mythical status of the world, Angelo shrugs, "I had backup off site. But by the time I knew I would need help, it was too late and it would have simply blown my cover even more fully to call them in. I calculated that I would survive whatever they intended to do to me, and any backup that arrived would not have the same luxury. So..."
    He takes another long breath. "And then you were there. I knew -exactly- what you were capable of, and so once again, I didn't call in my backup. I'm sorry the NYPD is unhappy. I have already asked my superiors to disclose everything they can to the locals. We don't want jurisdiction issues. We want to be allies."
    Then he smiles and adds, "One of my trainers was telling me that she joined SHIELD not because she wanted to be a spy, but because SHIELD does what needs to be done for the greater good.... even if that upsets the politicians."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"You had backup." Sara's eyes narrow like a cat's. "But, then you saw me appear like some crazy vigilante, knowing what I could do? -I- don't even know what I can do. How do you?"

She sucks her bottom lip in until it disappears, releases it and takes a long, deep breath through her nose. "I want to hear about SHIELD and your being there. They sound like people with their heads screwed on right but right now, my other question."

Achilles has posed:
    Shaking his head, Angelo smirks, "To be more specific, I knew what the Witchblade is capable of. Or.. I know how effective the bearer can be with the blade."
    That said, Angelo leans forward and reaches a hand to place it on your shoulder. "I also know that you are terrified. And when you get scared, you tend to externalize it to try to turn it onto someone else so that you can convince yourself that you are not afraid. Please tell me if I am wrong here, because... I have never been a psychologist. I have just spent a long time watching people."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
He is right but will she admit it or try to rip his arm off at the shoulder? Sara freezes in place, hunkering down like an animal trying to avoid being petted. Through gritted teeth, she says quietly, holding his gaze, "Do you mean, I get angry at people when I'm afraid? Or tear their heads off when I'm afraid? Fear biters, is what my father called it."

Achilles has posed:
    "More like.. you try to convince yourself that you are not, by putting on a brave front. By blaming someone else. You don't choose to do this. It happens before you realize it's happening and... if I am correct, you break away as soon as you can and when you do, you find yourself all alone, trying to figure out -why- you said what you said... why you pushed people away who were only trying to help you."
    Angelo inclines his head and asks, "Do your commanders give you negative points on your people skills Detective Pezzini?"
    And his hand is still there, not moving. Just... making contact. "You see, I have an unfair advantage. I knew Elyse, the bearer of the thirteenth century (I totally just made up her name) for years. I am describing -her- and making some educated guesses about you. The blade's bearers are always chosen not because they have some incredible internal power. But because they are tenacious, forceful, strong women who never let -anyone- or anything get in their way. You are a warrior Sara." Now using the first name for the first time. "A warrior born. When I was your age... I had the same issue. You'd think I might be fearless."
    He laughs and shakes his head, "I wasn't afraid of death or pain. I was afraid that I would fail. That I would fail in front of all of Greece, and rather than be remembered for my peerless fighting skills, I would be remembered for that failure. Thank the gods I got past -that- eventually. But I had centuries to find myself. To truly KNOW myself. You don't have that sort of time Sara. So please... let me help you."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Yes, my superiors give me negative points for my people skills," she snarls. The snarl quiets into an introverted mutter. "And, yeah, sometimes I'm acting before I think then I don't know what to or say afterwards. It got me to the principal's office more than you'd think. My dad would laugh then go and talk to them."

She has settled with his hand on her but she is still unsure of whether she wants it because she can feel memories rising through the connection. Elyse? The introverted gaze becomes an inward stare as she sees a man and a woman standing on a green hillside watching a shepherd move his flock to hiding against a coming invasion by the English.

Coming back to herself she hears him tell her that she is a warrior. "The Witchblade has a mind of its own, Angelo. Failure to me would be killing someone needlessly or killing the wrong person. I think."

Achilles has posed:
    "Yes, it has a mind of its own. But it chooses bearers who have.. not only physical strength, but strength of spirit. Life is -never- easy for a bearer. Pain becomes a large part of their life. Sacrifice... and will."
    Angelo gives a gentle squeeze on your shoulder and then gets up to his feet. "I should leave you to your own thoughts. You don't need me pushing you, trying to pry. You need to rest and..."
    Angelo shakes his head and turns towards the exit. He pauses to pull three twenties out of his pocket and lays them on the doorside table along with a business card. "My number is on here. My personal number. When you want to talk, I'll be there for you. I won't force you, but I'll be there if needed." And... without looking back, he heads out.