Inferno

By Divamercury

Standard disclaimer applies.

I am so thrilled that people have liked Angry Flame. This is the direct sequel to the aforementioned tale, and Danger Zone probably comes after this one chronologically. And Crazy For This Girl is in no way affiliated with the series; it was just an idea I thought of. Sorry about the mix-up. Anyway, please review! Suggestions are always welcome!

Chapter 1

"Another sunrise marks the beginning of another day in purgatory," I said to myself on the way to the 11th NYPD Precinct. It was December 4th, and that was never a good day. It was the day my father was killed, way back when (I won't say the year because then you'll be able to figure out how old I am) and I always hated that day. Nothing had gone right the whole day: I was already late for work, I had run into about four inanimate objects so far, and I discovered a nice, fresh scratch on the side on my motorcycle when leaving for work.

"Well, it's just another cold, exceptionally shitty December day here in NYC, folks," I muttered to myself. "Winter really, really sucks."

I got to work and met my partner, Jake McCartey, inside.

"Jeez, it's freezing out there, and it's not that much better in here," Jake said. I went to the coffee machine, trying to warm myself up with some actual motion, and retrieved two cups of coffee. We entered our office, and I handed one cup to Jake, who sipped it eagerly.

"Pez, you're a lifesaver," he said mischievously.

I groaned at that remark. "Either you cut out the candy jokes right now or else I'll take that coffee away and return it somewhere that you might not like," I said. Jake stiffened, glancing down at his lap. He knew I'd do it, too.

"So what's with you, Pez? You're in a worse mood than usual."

The man was observant this morning.

"Bad day. Automatically on December 4th I have a bad day," I said, getting a completely unmistakable look of confusion from Jake.

"My father was killed on December 4th," I explained flatly.

"Oh!" Jake said, realization finally dawning on him. "I'm sorry, Pez."
I flashed him a rare but genuine smile, my only one of the morning. "Thanks, Jake, you don't know how much I appreciate that."

Thankfully I was able to avoid Dante all morningI sent Jake to deal with him. He probably only agreed because I was having a terrible day and there was no telling what I'd do if I got really pissed. He wasn't the only one in the department that had noticed that people tended to die when I got mador even got involved.

The morning crawled by until my lunch break rolled around. Jake stayed at the precinct and I headed out to make the most of my free time. I left the building without my helmet and keys (because I was walking) but took my gun and badge as I always did.

Never leave home without em,' I thought. Maybe being paranoid was good for a cop; it kept you on your toes.

While I was walking through the streets toward a small café that was a particular favorite of mine, I literally bumped into someone, sending what they were carrying flying.

"Oh, jeez, I'm so sorry! Let me help you with that!" I said, picking up some scattered items on the sidewalk and then looking into a very familiar face.

"Ciara!" I exclaimed. I was looking at my friend Ciara Darkheart, the girl I had met at the Angry Flame. It had been six months since I had last seen her, but not since I had last spoken to her. She had called me before about this and that several times in the past, just recently about her past. She had informed me that she had been orphaned when she was very young and had lived in an orphanage until she reached job age, and then bounced from place to place until she ended up at the Angry Flame.

"Sara! Hi! It's great seeing you after so long. How are you? I mean, how's your arm?"

"Much better. I can use it almost as well as I could before hand, but I'm wondering if it will ever be the same again," I said, glancing at the slightly disabled appendage.

"Good, that's really good," Ciara said absently, staring at the Witchblade which was resting in icy lethargy against my right wrist. "Listen, could I talk to you for a minute?" she asked.

"We are talking, Ciara," I said, although I knew what she meant. She was about to drop a major bombshell.

"I mean in private. I've had some nagging questions that I've wanted to ask you for a while but I was afraid to just come up and ask you because I thought that you would think that I was crazy and I didn't know how to react to that."

I nodded. "I was already on my way to lunch before I ran into you, so let's go to Mandrill's and we can talk about whatever you want there."

We entered Mandrill's and sat down at a small round table inside, and then Ciara started talking.

"The night you saved my life, the night with East in your apartment," she began, "I saw some really weird things, but then they disappeared and I wondered if I had ever seen them at all."

"You saw what you saw, Ciara, it wasn't a hallucination. This–" I said, gesturing to the Witchblade, "–is definitely not what it appears to be on the surface. You know how I said that I didn't know why it was called the Witchblade?"

She nodded.

"Well, I actually know exactly why it was called the Witchblade, but I won't go into that right now."

"It looked like some kind of metal glovething–"

"–A gauntlet. Yeah, that's what it becomes when I get mad. Or when it gets mad all on its own. Don't look at me like that," I said indignantly as she eyed me suspiciously. "You won't get it because you can't wear it, but it really has a mind of its own."

"So basically what you're saying is that your bracelet is alive."