"Enemies Are Closer Than They Appear"
Disclaimer: Do not own anything from Gargoyles. Gargoyles (c) Disney. Own my fanfic characters.
David Xanatos was proud of his financial empire. His network of companies spanned the globe and grossed millions weekly. Even his castle in the air proved he was richer than any king. Make that emperor -- with a fortress and a security system to prove it.
Or so he thought.
The businessman stood on the tallest tower of Castle Wyvern one afternoon. A helicopter landed on the tallest skyscraper on Park Avenue. The helicopter was bright red, with RI painted in silver on the side. Reznichek Industries.
Xanatos wasn't particularly worried. Once in a while, a rival corporation would move in on his clientele but they'd inevitably be merged or go broke before too long. What made RI any different? Even if it's owner and CEO, Harrison Reznichek, had been catapulted to second-richest man in his dimension. Harrison was undoubtedly moving from his mansion in Newark to the Park Avenue penthouse. The skyscraper itself was parallel to the Eyrie. The penthouse was certain to be large and opulent, but nothing compared to Castle Wyvern.
Fox joined him. "Look what came in the mail." She held up an engraved invitation. "The Brentwood's baby was born. A girl."
"Interesting," conceded her husband. "I bet Alex would like to meet his new playmate."
Fox motioned toward the skyscraper. "Thinking of sending them a housewarming gift?"
Xanatos turned and gave his characteristic smirk. "Tempting, but no. Let the challenger take the first shot."
"Ever met him?"
"At Christie's. I outbid him on a Bentley Continental GT. He's apparently a car collector."
"What do you want to bet that the Brentwoods invited the Reznicheks to their soiree?"
"Gambling is for those without skill, Fox."
XXX
Harrison Reznichek exited the helicopter and tipped the pilot. He was a lithe, high-spirited man. His face was clean-shaven and his brown eyes were inquisitive but at the same time had a steely gleam. He wore a tailored black suit and a Rolex watch. The tycoon helped his wife, Susan, out of her seat.
Susan was tall, with pale skin and large blue eyes. Were it not for the blinking of the turquoise eyes, one might have mistaken her for a statue. Her features were elegantly proportioned, even beautiful. She was unsmiling, yet not frowning. Taciturn, Susan spoke rarely -- only when she deemed necessary. Small talk was a waste of valuable time.
Collin, their second child, tumbled out. The backpack thudded against his back. "I can't wait to see the place!" He was ten years old and had inherited his dad's eyes but his mother's skin tone and jet-black hair.
"How can you be so awake?" yawned Eleanor, better known as Ellie. The children had been awakened early in their Four Seasons hotel room and spent the first day of their new schools. Ellie was sixteen, yet she hadn't lost her baby fat. Her eyes were like her mother's, and her complexion was unmarred by scars or acne. The girl's cheeks were naturally rosy. She was still in the clothes she had worn to school: a white blouse with puffy sleeves and a high collar, black pleated skirt, white stockings, and black loafers.
The four-member family entered their penthouse.
Collin eagerly threw open the door to his room. All his old furniture and toys were neatly arranged. His clothes hung neatly in the closet. "I love this room!"
Ellie crossed the living room and opened the door to her new bedroom. "Ha. Mine's bigger."
The younger brother stuck out his tongue.
"So how was your first day of school?" Susan asked.
"I hated it," Ellie snapped. "The girls all wore clothes that showed their cleavage. How indecent. And they all have their cliques. The boys were even worse. One of them tried to look under my skirt."
Harrison's eyes flashed dangerously. Quick as lightning, he whipped out his cell phone. "Do you know the scoundrel's name?"
"Jimmy Rasmussen. I asked my English teacher."
"I love my new school," declared Collin. He pointed to the T-shirt and jeans he wore. "No uniforms."
"Eleanor," Susan chided. "Your old school was co-ed."
She snorted. "Yes, but everyone wore uniforms. The girls looked proper and the boys didn't act like animals."
"Is it any surprise?" Collin asked. "With that outfit?"
"I'll have you know these blouses were all the rage in 1910s England. I have my dressmaker replicate them from…" retorted Ellie.
Her brother interrupted. "You look like an anachronism."
Harrison snapped his phone shut. "I got the creep a three-day suspension. If he ever bothers you again, just tell me, and I'll have him expelled."
Ellie kissed him. "Thanks, Daddy."
Susan held out an invitation. "Looks like we've already made the invite list for the parties."
"Awww, those parties are always so boring," Collin whined.
XXX
At the twenty-third precinct, a uniformed officer placed a glass blotter on his desk, covering a collage of photographs and newspaper clippings. He reached into a box and continued to unpack. Besides the usual office supplies, there were two models: one of a Brontosaurus skeleton and the other of the Spirit of St. Louis.
Matt Bluestone passed by, sipping a cup of coffee. He had arrived early and was waiting for his partner. "You're the new guy, aren't you?"
The officer looked up. He had wavy dark brown hair and round wire-rimmed glasses. "Sergeant Michael Rawlins."
He extended his hand.
"Detective Matt Bluestone."
"Your servant, sir."
"Your name sounds familiar. Where are you from?"
"Oh, I got transferred from 27th. Sergeant Camacho retired, so this precinct needed someone to fill the void."
Captain Maria Chavez poked her head outside her office door. "Rawlins, may I speak with you a moment?"
Rawlins immediately headed down the corridor to the Captain's office.
Elisa joined Matt. "New guy?" She glanced at the desk. "A grown man, yet very much a little boy." An eyebrow shot up. Most of the articles were about the gargoyles -- particularly the ones that showed the gargoyles in a positive light: saving the train, extinguishing a fire when the NYFD was stuck in traffic, etc. "Sergeant Michael Rawlins? Isn't he known as the Twenty-seventh's biggest suck-up?"
"Fraid so." Matt looked at the desk, reading one article. "That's why his name was familiar. I read his guest editorial in the New York Times."
Elisa glanced at the clipping. "I knew the name, but I didn't realize it was this Rawlins." She read out loud. "John Castaway is nothing more than an incendiary demagogue who is feeding on your own fears and insecurities to suit his own agenda. He is an enemy of sustained thought and reason. Look to history if you don't believe me: the Salem witch-hunts come to mind. Or read Orwell's 1984. If any Quarrymen are reading this, heed my advice and look at yourselves! Hiding behind a mask, and using terrorist tactics to scare people. The Quarrymen who attacked the People For Interspecies Tolerance violated the PIT crew's constitutional right to assemble in public. We also have no evidence that anyone has had a deadly encounter with gargoyles. It is doubtful they possess the technology to build bombs or carry firearms. Humans since the dawn of time have taken a lot out of Mother Earth, and caused the extinction of countless species. I need only cite the Dodo, the Passenger Pigeon, or the undiscovered species in the dwindling Amazon rainforest. It's such a waste of a planet. Don't we owe it to our earth to maintain some of the symbiotic relationships we have with the creatures on this planet -- including gargoyles?"
"And he attacked Doyle," added Matt, pointing to a specific passage. "It says 'I have the suspicion that Doyle would have used some other minority if gargoyles were unavailable to be his scapegoat.' Wonder what he had to say about that."
"Or Castaway."
"Or his sheep."
Chavez's door opened. Rawlins stepped out. "No thank you. I've been here less than an hour and you're already the best captain I've served. And the most beautiful…"
"Cut the flattery, brown-noser," retorted the captain.
XXX
The sun had set. David and Fox were preparing to go.
"Are we taking the limo?" Fox inquired.
"No. We're taking the Bentley Continental. It'll really rub it in to my competitor."
Lexington came in. "I'm on watch."
David picked up Alex. "You're off duty tonight. We're taking him to the party. He's got to defend his title as the cutest baby in New York."
The green gargoyle kissed the infant on the forehead. "I'm sure his title's safe."
XXX
At the party, Mr. Aaron Brentwood tapped his glass. "I'd like to thank everyone for coming. As you know, Teresa and I have been blessed with a girl by the noble stork. Everyone, I present Julia Marie Brentwood."
"Aww," chorused most of the guests.
"In addition," continued the host. "We would like to welcome Harrison Reznichek to our fair city. Now let's sit down to dinner. Chef Maurice has prepared a lovely meal."
The guests arranged themselves around the oak table. David sat near one end, with Fox to his right and Baby Alex occupying a high chair next to his mother. Collin sat on Alex's other side, with Ellie on the other side of Collin. Susan sat across from Ellie. Harrison occupied a chair near the opposite end. The meal began peacefully.
Collin finished his dessert and burped.
Ellie blushed. "Mom!"
"Collin!" scolded Susan.
"It was an accident," protested the boy. "I drank my soda too fast."
"You did it on purpose!" accused his sister.
"No. If I did it on purpose, it'd sound like this." Collin released a loud belch.
Baby Julia began to cry. Baby Alex giggled.
Mrs. Brentwood snatched her crying daughter. "Mrs. Reznichek, is this your idea of appropriate table manners?"
"He's just agitated from the move," Susan explained.
Collin shrugged and began to tickle Baby Alex, who giggled and wiggled his limbs.
"Stop playing with Xanatos' son," Susan hissed.
"Why? He seems to like me and I'm bored."
"He likes you now, but he'll grow up to be just like his father and inherit a hatred of this family. I don't want you to lose a friend."
Aaron interrupted them. "Who's up for a little Monopoly?"
"Monopoly is a game, Brentwood," called Xanatos. "I want to control the entire world."
Everyone laughed, save for the Reznicheks. A few of the adults, including Fox and Susan, sat down to play Monopoly. The other adults chatted idly about business and politics. Collin continued to play with Baby Alex.
Ellie stood by the window. She had changed into a velvet Victorian-style dress. Her light brown hair was pinned up in an upsweep.
"You have a lovely daughter," David whispered to Harrison. "She looks angelic. Can she possibly be yours, or did you dye her hair so she'd look the part?"
"Big words from someone convicted of receiving stolen property and corporate espionage."
"Do you want to be the pot or the kettle, Harrison?"
Harrison's cell phone rang. "Excuse me."
Owen approached David and Fox. "Alexander is getting restless."
"Drive him home," Xanatos ordered.
"Are you sure that's prudent?" Owen held up his stone fist.
"If anyone can drive with one hand, it's you. Fox and I want to stay a little longer. We can walk home. It isn't far."
"I pity any muggers you might run into," Owen replied dryly. He took the infant downstairs, placed him in the car seat in back of the Bentley. The majordomo got into the driver's seat and started the elegant silver sports car. The Brentwood estate was on a street that bordered the East River. The car moved a few yards when a car appeared in the rearview mirror. The butler was too absorbed in driving with one hand to notice.
The slam came without warning. Owen was thrown forward, striking his head on the steering wheel. He immediately lost consciousness.
Alex whimpered as the car slammed into the guardrail. Luckily, the baby was on the left side and unhurt. Beneath, the waters raged. The car would soon plunge over the edge and submerge.
The infant somehow sensed the danger he was in. Uncle Puck couldn't help. And teleportation hadn't been covered yet. Lex! Help me! He cried mentally as tears streamed down his face.
The vehicle wobbled precariously…and fell…
TBC