Do You Trust Me?

December 21, 2017:

Jackie and Sara meet for the first time, the Trinity slowly being re-found.

//Flushing Meadows Park - New York City //

Flushing Meadows is a public park in Queens, the fouth largest in New
York. It's home to the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, the New York
Hall of Science and Citi Field. It also hosted the World Fair of '39/'40 and

The park itself features wide open expanses between the various facilities
on it along with footpaths and, as is necessary in the summer, shaded areas.


NPCs: Angelus



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

It's been a long damn day for Jackie Estacado, and as he picks himself up out of the ten foot divot in the park that he left after getting blasted he's pretty sure it couldn't get much worse. The dirt falls from him in thick clods, and he rumbles to the four remaining Angelus floating near him in a deep, voice that sounds like it comes from the Void

~Fine. No jokes. Guess we're back to just killing each other…~

What others would see, if they are unlucky to come across the battle field, is four Angel like beings wings bright with 'Holy' light, sporadic golden armor covering their body, and bearing glowing spear like weapons…

The weapons are brandished against a Humanoid figure, Black and Grey armor covering his body, a silver-sheened mask over his face, and green eyes glowing out from under jet black hair.

There are four other ash piles around the park, torn up trees, various parts of the ground overturned in large swaths, and generally looks like a warzone.

Jackie looks to the West, his glowing eyes narrowing, ~Sun's almost gone, Tinkerbells. Best make this last one your best shot, 'cause once it's gone all of you assholes are dust in the wind…~

~'Disturbance in Flushing Park: Reported possible death, massive damage, calling for closest until 18 can arrive. 9-1-1 Response, from dispatch!'~

Sara was already close, she was 'off duty' and a moment of quiet is needed after the file she had to go over in regards to the pool of blood long dried into a visceral 'Noir' when her fingertips pressed the edge of the pool that had long made the elderly woman's hair pink in absorption. Some images do not go away, let alone a small ball of fluff stained similarly, shivering in a corner with 'Tags' that read -Princess-.

An explosion of a blink and somehow Sara is walking this tiny fucking Poodle Named Princess through flushing, her 'Radar' never off as the feed is heard just before the line of turf is burrowed in a path before her, somehow 'Princess' is in her grip baring tiny teeth and protesting via sharp barks that Sara 'pinches' to silenced grumbles in thumb and index.

But the scene before them, laid out in tandem with the call fed through earpiece, the bracelet is already moving in lashes, the leather lining of coat sleeve tattering while clawed tips appear in clutch around the Mini-Poo's maw.



Slowly Sara approaches a park benck, the tiny pink leash being tied to a leg, but 'Princess' is already hiding, frozen, beneath. No commands needed.

From beneath the hem of leather jacket, a badge flashes, but the cold metal of the Magnum is revealed in its draw and hold beside outer thigh ((Metallic tendrils tear and split denim in a slow ascension like veins..))

"You are in violation of Citations in the City of New York, Public property destruction. Stop now or you will be placed under arrest!" Weapon is not risen as she moves forward, one step…

The Witchblade's reaction drawing fingers to grip her weapon tighter. The sight itself no matter to her… Yet.

"You have the right… To remain… Silent…!"

"The Angelus will reward us greatly for your death, Foul One." A voice not quite as deep as the Black Armored figure, the tone ringing slightly like bells, calls out to their nemesis. Spears angled and ready for another attack, "We will vanquish the Darkness for our Mistress!"

Jackie flexes his hands, claws of night extending out of each finger, and spikes growing from Arms, Legs, and Back ~Is there a Henchmen Speech Class you douches go to?~ feet digging into the ground again, legs coiled and ready to spring ~Nobody says shit like Vanquish or Foul One anymore…~

and his banter is interrupted by the barely audible radio, more audible barking, and then the appearance as well as directives of a Detective. All eyes, each Supernatural, turn to regard her as if she is the only normally dressed person at a Cosplay Event.

"Move away from here Mortal. You involve yourself in matters above your station…" says one of the Winged Beings, while a second turns their Spear in her direction, "…leave or we will remove you from this Realm…"

Which is exactly when Jackie leaps thirty feet from his spot to the Angelus threatening the newcomer, ~This is our fight. keep the sexy cop out of it…~ and barrels into it with inhuman speed. His clawed hand wraps around it's throat, as he looks over his shoulder ~You might wanna..~ his head tilts to the side, the eyes glow brightening for a moment, ~..what the hell..UGHK~ and that's when Jackie takes a spear through the stomach, clearly seeing the point and part of the haft coming out of his back.

~I repeat a code 10-10, possible… 10…~

Radio frequency blurred, nearly echoing in Sara's ears..

"…Anything you say, or do, can be used against you in the court of La—-" An exhale that mists the winter air in comparison to heated breath before her lips… Along the arm lifting her weapon…

Lashes of metallic 'tails' shred the leather from her appendage in a rapid ascension Sara has never seen before, coating her arm in an an armor of mixture between scale and chain, both reptilian and amphibian where bends and /bows/ of physicality call for more or less.

Upon her exhale one last word over that comm to Dispatch, nearly a whisper from lips where spines straddle a corner and ascend to cradle around eye that goes from a deep brown to a low golden glow. "….10" ((Fight in Progress… Partially?))

From one arm to the other, spines protrude through leather jacket, along shoulders, down opposing arm and the hand holding the Magnum, shudders, rises - a shift between Angelus and Darkness but as blood spatters across the ground beneath, their words mean nothing!

Trigger is pulled…

The *BANG!* has that moment to resound, the bullet flung from chamber to take flight towards one, but the head of spear that spatters 'First Blood' across the park grounds and the bench. ((Beneath, Princess shuts the fuck up. Finally…))

Coat shed, the tank top is shredded in a grip of reforming rib-cage, every tendril lashing to cling over her chest bit by bit, the primordial grip possessive and the one eye unstraddled widens with the part of lips while Sara's Magnum falls to the ground beside her.

"…79…" ((Notify Coroner))

The confusion is muted by the sudden movement to leap Sara into the fray, the Claws of the Witchblade flashing to sever the spear-head from the piercing of Darkness, unwanting to touch Him though, where he lands is not her business. It is the //withdrawal of the Spear Head that would do far more damage… But if not.. She has approximately…


Derisive snort, the figure landing into tree limbs in a sprawl, a bat-like cling before she is rebounding back towards the Angelus, a hand extending and the splay of clawed fingers projects barbs…

"LEAVE!" All encompassing! But her defense and offense if variable, right now!

~MOTHERFU…~ and Jackie's curse is stopped short as the shudder of the Spear being sliced causes him to catch his breath. He falls to one knee, his weight causing the haft to be pulled down with him, and his blood running down into the Angelus Warrior's hand

"Now you die, Foul One." The Warrior crows through gritted teeth, a mix of surprise and pleasure seen his glowing eyes, "And I will live an Eternity of …." he begins, but is cut short with Jackie's hand in his chest.

~Shut…" pant, blood tinged mist coming from his face "..Up" and he rips a glowing heart from the chest cavity. As the light fades in his Claw, the heart turns to dust, as does the body beneath him.

As all eyes were drawn to the impossible of the slaying of the Darkness, Sara's bullet smacks into the head of the Angelus speaking before, knocking him back but not boring a bloody hole as expected. Now, though, he is totally unprepared for the lightning quick attack of the Witchblade from the tree acrobatics.

There it is, the last vestiges of the Sun's rays disappearing, twilight passing into night.. into Darkness.. and a low chuckle, like Death Itself, is heard from the Darkness ~Come out, and play Boys…~ and raspy voices, gravelly yet pitched high, call from the lengthening shadows.

"Hey Boss, someone pegged ya?" and then the sound of something being slapped
"That's not what that means, Idiot…" and a grumpy sounding voice replying
"Fine, Boss got stabbed in the stomach while lookin' at a hottie. Whatevs" and then many green glowing eyes appear in the shadows
"Feedin' Time!"

Slowly, as if weighed down by the World, the Darkness stands from his knees. He pulls the shaft from his stomach, blood seeping from the wound, ~Leave the Cop alone…~ He commands, voice Deeper and Darker, ~…Eat the Angelus.~

The sweep upon the Spear Head is one that was meant to be splintering, to free the Darkness, to let him slip-n'-slide, off the edge without rent flesh of exit-wound…

The bullet explodes through-and-through to spatter across the visage of the half-crescented and armored features of Sara/// Witchblade ascending in tendrils to smear and sweep it away from the bridge of her cheekbone and with a whiplash motion 'flick', the visceral Angelus' remnants from her…

But as the body bows back into a fall, there is a flicker, a /reel/ of motion in reflective Amber gaze, now bled gold to mirror the Falling of an Angel. It may have been Her Bullet, but the fall is caught in the sudden descent, a push from the barren tree that left branches broken and fallen from the height.

Whispered - "…no.."

Sara does not know what she holds, and the Witchblade…
Does not know who it possesses…

Before the fallen Angelus can hit the ground and shatter, a clawed grip impacts the falling figure, claws burrowing into ethereal skin possessively, knees tucked beneath in a kneel to cushion landing!

The other hand extends up and out before the figures impact the Earthen floor, even as Darkness is just as real, Sara Defends, the extended clawed spired of the Witchblade Demand.


Knees bruise in the landing, denim tatters and that armor ascends in a tear through cotton and polyester to wrap around thighs pillowing the fallen Angelus, but those eyes Fire*Light at Darkness. Extended hand of protrusion in claws slowly closes to a fist, eyes blazing golden die down to that Amber hue.

"Don't I… know you…?" The Cross of Confusion, laid bare even as the metallic resounding echo extends tentacles of spires around her form, the Darkness Rising something watched, but any remaining opposition is met with the same regard.

The other Angelus look around, all dead except two, and they decide it might be best to retreat for another day. However, as soon as the decision is made, one is covered in small dark figures. One wears a Yankee's hat backwards, another wears a cowl and cape like someone in Gotham, but the others are lost in a blur of motion.

"WOo hoo.. These guys taste like chicken!" a raspy voice calls out.
"It is the wings that identify them as a fowl of some sort. So says Buttman!." the cowled creature claims.
"I want to eatz it's eyezzz" a third voice is heard
"You'll get the runs again! Eyeball Runs!!"

The figure is bowled over, carried to the ground, and his screams are muffled as the final Angelus takes to the night sky. The sounds of sirens can be heard closing in by the sensitive ears of the two here.

~You seem…~ the odd voice sounds less ominious now, the glow in the eyes revealing Pale Blue orbs ~Familiar?~ The Figure looks over his shoulder in the direction of the sirens and lights, his hand covering the wound on his stomach, blood trickling through his fingers. ~Look, the Winged guys are dust. The only ones they'll find is you and I…~

The mask starts to dissolve, features that could be a model's become somewhat visible, his voice still deep but more human "I'm not doing great. I'd rather not deal with questions on how I got stabbed. Maybe we can take this somewhere else?" He doesn't sound particularly upset about it, more of an annoyance he'd rather not deal with, "I'll tell you what I can. Ok?"

The Angelus she caught is cradled, limp form arched over the bend of knees where armor now coats upward to mid-thigh, the fire-gems a reflective gaze just over the bend of her knees, above the spikes of Blade coating spire over the Angelus' form.

The Death Rattle is unheard, but felt, even as Sara's confliction, the Artifact encumbering her… is knelt between Two ((…One… Retreat!)) Angelus, and the Darkness with the 'Lings.

The Angelus in her grip disintegrates to dust, filtering through hooked fingers, they curl into palm and clutch//burrow within armored palm in the emptiness between while ashes filter through to slide over knees and to the Park Ground beneath.

One hand lowers between parted knees, fingers curling and burying into frozen sod as another Angelus falls, her eyes lifting and narrowing at Darkness, golden in fire's light while another death-cry seems to be the bell for another round of conflict!

Witchblade is lunging at him in a sudden leap throttled by hooks borne upon booted toes while soles shred to the ground behind her. ~Wh——o, are you to claim Judge, Jury…~ Her own voice resounds, but ends on the wail of sirens, the Red and Blue reflective over golden refraction, just over the shoulder of the Darkness when his face unveils..

…. Oh for fucks…

Witchblade's impact, if made, is one that faces another balance. Her secrecy, her Case File, Her Life!

Darkness collides with Witchblade for a brief moment before she is seeking a roll of form in alacrity to roll her towards the bench and that tiny shuddering pink-bloodied mess of a Poo… Dog.. It wants to be a fucking dog… Just like they want to be…

His wound is eyed, even as the shuddering Mop-Pup is scooped into clawed grasp, laced around protectively. Princess…

"Go…" Her voice shudders, swallowing in the braced lining of Blade Armor, evident as she lofts her chin and waits…

A sneer to the Darklings. A warning, mimicked by the little ball of pink fluff.

Jackie's wound makes him slow, so when Witchblade leaps at him he knows he can't move out of the way, but his voice is for the Darklings "Stay.. out of it!" and when she hits him, he'll grunt in pain as a bit of his blood splashes on her armored stomach.

"Look, I didn't start it…" Jackie tells her, one hand on her shoulder for the brief moment she's touching him, "..but I'll finish it. Assholes have been huntin' me since my birthday last year.." and then she is springing away from him.

His breathing is heavy, the wound taking a toll on him, but Jackie tilts his head and watches her gather up the small dog. There's a small flick of his lips, a half-smile over confident features, "Thanks." Jackie tells her at the admission of him leaving, he's got ego, but he knows if she wanted him to stay he couldn't do much right now.

Pale blue eyes watch her, his body still as a statue, and then those orbs flicker to her armor "If you want to talk… I will. I don't now much, and most people I've run into are loons that want somethin' from me." He takes a few steps back into a shadow, darker than the rest, "But if you want to find me, I'm Jackie Estacado."

His eyes glow brightly for a moment, the only visible thing left of Jackie, and his voice sounds as if from very far away "Take care, Cop. Wouldn't want ya gettin' hurt before we 've got a chance to talk again." and then in a blink the shadow is normal, and Jackie is gone… as is all the Darklings, but one… His raspy voice adding, "If ya wanna talk ta the Boss, can always just say his name into a Dark Spot.." the creepy eyes glow for a moment, similar to Jackie's, "We're always listenin' in the Darkness."

The poodle stained in half-assedly washed away blood sits within the clutch of the Witchblades clawed hold as if it means nothing, the low rumblings in 'Princess'es chest (as per the silver collar reads), show her own dismay at the Darklings, her own challenge…

Drawn and clutched in the hooked curvature of fingers laden in primordial claws that ball of "pink" fluff is beneath bosom now captured in claws, a amile of reflective ethereal metal that could be painted/ over contours if not for the //heave, with every breath of the Chosen beneath said plating, affixed to place by the Witchblade for a barrier against The Darkness and the Angelus.

Clawed tendrils form skeletal appendages along accented curvature, and yet reinforce over vitals, over the necessary skeletal structure and traced lines of nervous system. Her spine is coated in a reflective Ivory that appears silver, where every vertebrae can be counted in the surge when shoulders curl inward an a defensive hunch over the small 'Beastie' she holds in Dragon-Claw like an -Egg-.

~"Jackie…. Estacado…"~ A simultaneous reign of vocal chords while eyss flicker from that dark hazel to that of a golden fire-light!

… A step forward..
One foot remains planted, even as the Witchblade begins to coat it in that armor, Ascending to upper thigh and shredding denim in it's path to thread upon the ground beneath… Tatters of leather boots lay…

His form disappears and her eyes redirect to the Darkling Messenger. ~He Misunderstood. We go.~ Spoken with a flare that heats the amber of her gaze in totality. ~Cop remains untouched!~ A finality in demand before the planted foothold is released and her unladen hand extends towards the shadows.


Spoken none-the-less… "10-21 (I will return, be advised, at.." A breath, as another step forward carried her possibly deeper in her own pursuit, the Witchblade's pursuit? "Ohsevenhundred."

A pair of glowing green eyes appear above and behind that of the Darkling that was watching the Witchblade. The metal half-mask and head extends out of the shadow. ~I can't bring people with me now… Hurt and still learning…~ he admits, perhaps a bit chagrin on his features.

His eyes scan the surrounding area, and eventually fall on a rooftop not far away, ~We can talk there, if you want, or…~ a lift of his brow, the glow disappears and the Pale Blue eyes twinkle with mischief, "We can talk somewhere more private?" The half-mask disappearing to show his sly grin, "I know a safehouse nearby. Two blocks north, and three east. I can meet you there if you like?"

The Darklings start chittering in the shadow, "Shut Up…" Jackie tells them again, his eyes narrow in confusion as if he's not quite sure what he's seeing. "I was headed there, heal up, and lay low." His hand still covering the seeping wound in his stomach.

He coughs again, that red mist accompanying a grimace, "My word we'll be the only ones there. No tricks. I'll kill anyone that tries anything." the sincerity in his voice is real, his eyes hold no tricks, and he waits to see if she trusts him.

Witchblade remains, one foot beside the other as the eyes reveal and the words Call Forth, the sream of sirens dulling as if slain, reflective Cherries and Berries /dying/ in approach to the initial 'Crime Scene' where only the astro-turf bares the revelations of the Eternal Fight in canals and charred craters within Flushing Meadows.

A step forward, Darkness embodied, reveals himself and that empty clawed grasp gathers the bloodied fetters around his wound, attire shred in the place, leaving exposed ravaging due to the Spear of the Angelus' penetration exposed. The Gem of Red exposed it deeply. ~"We go to the Roof."~ A pause as Witchblade nearly rocks a bit closer, features outlined in the primordial clasp and grip of skeletal barbs ascends along his own profile where the mask had been shed and now remains a facade like her own. Puppets…

~"Heal."~ The diuality of belief, of words, neutralizing Jackies 'mischief' with demand and accord.


Must have Both..
Accepted or denied, where his eyes traversed towards rooftop sanctum, they will arrive unless trespassed upon, that grip upon pierced attire relinquished for one that slowly…


Splays over his abdomen and that opened through-and-through, clawed tips splaying over bloodied remnants.

~"Don't…"~ A warning… But for…

As they arrive on the rooftop, Jackie's armor begins to dissolve, and what is left is the tattered remains of a suit that was white originally. The jacket is shreds, left discarded on the roof, the shirt covers little more than his shoulders, and is splattered with his blood. His feet are bare, socks and shoes lost in the turmoil, and his pants some macabre similarity to the Hulks torn attire.

The fact that he's removed his armor means he either trusts her, or is so exhausted he can't maintain it any more. Either way, his eyes meet hers as she touches his wound, and he doesn't flinch in the slightest. "What's your name?" his deep voice asks, his own hand traveling to hover above the armored one against his skin, "Are you like me? Born with something inside you?"

For offering to answer questions he seems to be asking a lot of them, the slow trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth is wiped away by a forearm, and despite the agony he must be in he stands straight before her. Agony, it appears, he is very familiar with based on the knife, bullet, burn, and assorted wounds seen on his torso.

If she watches carefully, the blood flow slows even though the wound gapes before them both, the more he is in the shadows the better he begins to feel. Then, in afterthought, he adds "Goofs, go clean up anything of mine. let me know when it's done."

Just a Hero on a Bridge thats burning…

Sara… She knows WHO Jackie Estacado IS, and even in the grasp over the revealed wound the Clawed Witchblade hovers over, there is a tremor… "No… Not right, I have seen(scene) the yellow tape!"

Can you see my scars?!

"I can walk away and let him bleed into the gutte—-" But even as Sara desires one path, the Witchblade shows her another and shuts her the-fuck-up, to /listen/, when he asks about birth-rite, and Owning It.

Sara's eyes waver, narrow..

The golden glow of the 'Blade focuses where pupils are awash in Fire as they maintain and the touch nearly seems to peel injured flesh from skin, tearing his /mortal/ wound from his body upon a caress that draws an impact into an ~impasse~.

"…Chosen…" A whisper from Sara's lips. "Saved. Like you," A part of lips and the -Human- side of Sara would want Jackie to Rot, by any means Justified! But the Witchblade burrows deep into his wound and with the withdrawal of a speared shard in a smattering of blood that refreshes what was left along her exposed abdomen, abdomen draws tightened, a pinch of claws and a seal of eyes to close from his visual before her.

~"They call Her Sara…"~ But the finality drops the shard to the rooftop and i the fall of Glass Petal the emanation from one Artifact (In Balance) extends between, clicking claws in a cacophony like a 'weave', a Mending that draws from the Entity of Sara the Witchblade encases.

..~But she is so Headstrong.~
~And She will stay standing with Belief!~

"Don't keep… Your.. Hopes up…"
"Jackie.." And even through a 'paling' amber gaze.. Yep.. Still a Bitch!

Jackie pulls the tatters of the shirt off his shoulders, tossing that to the ground as well, and he continues to just watch what she's doing. He's standing a little straighter, his breathing seems to come less in gasps, and his eyes gain clarity each moment.

He's not sure why, but he can sense a struggle within her. He has no idea what that struggle is, but given that he's at her mercy he keeps some of his bravado in place, "Not much of a talker are yo…"

His breath is taken from him as she heals him faster than he has ever healed himself before. There isn't pain, so much as the sudden /lack/ of it, and he has no idea how to react to it.

Once he gathers his breath again, he nods his head slowly, "Yeah, since Birth from what I know. Just happened when I turned Twenty One." No need in hiding any of this, who would she tell about it anyways, "Been a real shit show since then. Wackos with Wings, Holy Roller Slutty Nuns trying to kill me…" He decides to leave Sonatine out of it, for now, and then there is a gasp as a spear shard is removed from his guts.

"Sara?" Then, before he can catch himself, "Lovely name for a Lovely Lady…" he grins again about to say more, when he catches the second part of her comment about Hopes, "…well, can't blame a guy for tryin'?" not catching that the words weren't meant for him, "Not every day you find an incredibly beautiful woman with the same crazy powers you have, saving you from near death, and hasn't tried to kill me yet."

"Shut…" His prie is symbolism, Jackie's own Rite.

Sara's own made with a palm lain upon the leather bindings of a book, wearing a Cap and Dress of the Officer she had strived to be. The other aloft…

Academy left her "Swearing In" on wavering knees, the tension. The Anxiety. The gaze of her Father.

… The Resounding Gunshot.
Her world ended truly in a bang!…
Not whimper.

Hush, Love…

Her own breathe escapes her lightly parted lips when the Witchblade makes the decision for her, those protective tendrils 'dimpling' flesh while nearly suspending the mortal form of Sara aloft, clawing at the skin as it peels layers away to rescusitate an enemy laid bare before Them in more ways than One!



A whisper…


Hand laden in Armor peels away from Jackie as her eyes flicker with every blink, knees shuddering in threat, but **Sara refuses to fall as a hand extends… Humanoid, no longer coated in armor while it wraps fingers around the pulsing Red Hea(r)t, of the Witchblade that had healed Jackie Estacado.
A Face…
.. Where bodies remain Chalked..

Fingers curl inward and knees *lock* to keep from inevitable descent.

"All I have met is chaos…
.. when I want Order…"

His chagrin meets an arch of brow, but along the linear paths upon brow there is a shudder.

~"Fuck you!!"~ A resounding echo in tandem due to that very arrogance while her thumb brushes over the Rubied Gem, despite demands for the Pooddle Of Blood to drop and the gun to be drawn, those lashes of Embrace remain, Ancient and unwavering while Sara seeks to land a blow upon him, an upward sweep of bracered hand now laden in 'Links' of Ancient History along his jaw before knees /waver/ in prose.

~"…Hope…"~ A repeat of final words.

Sara wants him gone, Witchblade would /love/ him gone… All of them, perhaps…

But there are millennia of Scars..!

Jackie watches it all with a mix of wonder at the control she seems to have (visibly) over the Witchblade, confusion as to the every changing sense of emotions that he has yet to comprehend, and alarm as she shifts between helpful and danger in the blink of an eye.

He's seen some of those looks before, when other Cops have figured out who they are talking to, but instead of the prideful sneer there's something else… something that might be loss… at the thought that even another person like him finds him a Monster.

He's starting to take a step back when Sara swings on him, he sees it coming, and turns his head a little to absorb the blow as it comes in. and he takes the blow on his face. As he turns back to look at her, eyes aglow again, his split lip leaking blood for a few moments. Then, before her eyes, she sees the blood stop.. the wound seal… and Jackie gives a humorless grin.

"Right. Cop…" Jackie finally says, his voice tinged sardonic, " /know/ me. Got some files that says everything I am, right?" Taking a few more steps away from her, "That's all you need, eh? Words on paper. Well, maybe you should read again…" foot falls taking him closer to the shadows, "…only guys I've killed are scumbags from the streets. Rapists. Murders. Child Porn." He smirks now, unrepentant for what he's done, "Well, Cop Sara. Maybe I was wrong 'bout you wanting to kill me? Life ain't so Black and White…"

Pointing at the Witchblade on her wrist, "..and I think you got just as many questions as I do about what we've got inside us."

The sweep of clawed appendages meets dark-/air/, a bare scathe over skin with the twist if his head nd /wrench/ of his neck, Sara follows through…

Not with a Blow!

But a collapse

..Another one Bites The Dust..

Sara has a solid intent upon 'Franchetti's', the tie that keeps him placed in Dark..ness.

«Bodies littered the ground. Man. Woman. Child. None of it mattered, and her 'E"mbered gaze had seen Jackie within the shadows of 'witness'..»

..Let's be clear, I trust no one…

His point is as if a dagger had blown through her wrist, landing it near his grasp in a rebound to land another blow… But her fingers recoil into closure. /..still fighting for Peace../

Justice Thick Skin Sara can only go so far, despite the Witchblade and it's demands, her landing painting a breath along his jaw, but the bare of teeth is akin to a -threat-.

Sara wanted to recoil, but within the cocoon of encasing her body fights… For Peace!.

The Witchblade keeps the boed appendages in 'jointed appendages across the figure, a grasp keeping her At Attention, where those Amber eyes narrow upon his own Azure in a file of defiance, but /widen/ enough when he speaks, the finality. A pause of that /breath/, and it is as if Sara stops… Her body like a Marionette's in Cognitive Dissonance…

~Be care/ful/, Darknes~s..~
The warning only a dissipating whisper while the Mass of Armor gleans All Eyes upon Him and, Jackie's admission to Sara Cop!

Amusement can be a resounding echo.

Jackie licks the remnants of that wound from his lip with his tongue. He tastes it, the coppery iron bitterness of his own blood, a too familiar feeling of late, but despite himself he steps forward as it looks like Sara is going to fall. There is no flirting, no leering, just a concerned look for a moment as he moves to catch her before she falls.

His eyes watch hers, again reading the separate intents, and he lets out a long sigh as he shakes his head. "Sara. I'm not a good person. Doesn't mean I'm Evil." Slowly, his eyes close, centering himself for a long few moments, and when he opens them again all there is within is the eyes of Jackie Estacado.

"Look. Not sure if healing me took this out of you, but let me get you someplace safe.." He reaches down, taking what's left of his jacket, and draping it over her shoulders "If this is like mine, you're gonna be mostly naked, and there are too many creeps around for that." He looks over to the 'Princess' and sighs, "Shit, yeah, you too, Princess." and despite her hesitance he will pick her up.

"Yo, goof balls, make sure you find her ID, Badge, and shit if it's dropped. Bring it to her when you're done." As long as she doesn't fight, he takes her to his car, and then a nearby Five-Star Hotel. He get's her a room for the night, and takes her up to the room. Once he's got her tucked in, Jackie leaves a note on the nightstand next to her.

My number. Call if you want to talk.

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