Gargoyles: Newa 12

by Kabeiroi

The Gargoyles are horrified to find that Servarius is still making Gargoyle clones and programming them to be supersoldiers and one has escaped her programming. Now she's heading to New York to kill her "mother." Can Awen bring herself to kill Newa 12?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Head's up: I realize that the stories are all out of joint, but I'm trying to post as much as I have right now.

In my Gargs-verse, this story is #4 (#1: R2, #2: Possessed, #3: Obakemono), and takes place shortly before my X-Men/X-Files story Unnatural Selection. I'm still working through some story problems, so please, bear with me folks. There is a part that may remind you of Christine Morgan's stories, but I swear, that was unintentional!!

Goliath, Elisa, Brooklyn, Demona, Angela, Broadway, Lexington, Hudson, Bronx, Matt Bluestone, Owen, Xanatos, Fox, Alex, Sevarius, Little Anton, the Princess, the Magus, Tom, Wolf, Jackal, Tomas Brode, Macbeth © Greg Weisman & Disney.

Mr. Sinister © Marvel Comics.

Awen, Newa 12, Little Caesar, Mr. Peebles, Father Daniel Grady, Helios, the dark fey, the Fenris Hounds, the skrees, Izsak Schultheiss, General Kertesz Antal © Kara Senecal.

GARGOYLES

NEWA 12

By Kara Senecal

It is the nature of human beings not to be able to leave nature alone.

--Margaret Visser

ONE YEAR AGO:

Vaulting over the air-conditioning unit, Awen skidded wildly over the rooftop of some bookstore on Bleecker Street, wanting nothing more than to take to the air and head home and dive for the comfort of her bed--and maybe snag one of Demona's ale flasks as she went.

Snarling, Awen unfurled her wings with a sharp snap, shielding Demona as she landed uneasily behind Awen. At first, Demona was taken aback by the protective gesture, but she soon rid that with a growl, pushing Awen's wing aside.

"You don't need to treat me like a Rookie any more, Sister," Demona scowled, her ears pricking as the rumbling, low howls of the Fenris Hounds echoed from the streets below. "Besides, your wings won't protect either of us from the dark fey!"

Awen cringed, but at the same time snorted in disgust and frustration. "Forgive me, Little One--force of habit."

The tip of Awen's tail whipped across the rooftop impatiently as she waited for Demona to catch her breath. All around the bookstore Awen could hear the dark fey clawing their way up, or fluttering erratically on grotesque wings, clacking their fangs together and chortling sadistically. Awen didn't want to hang around; fighting Fenris Hounds and skrees was one thing--fewer than five of the monsters could be found in a pack or flock--but these damned dark fey! The ugly rodents prowled about in bands of hundreds, moving through the streets like pulsing black waves. When they struck, they swarmed over the victim, and every time one was smashed or torn away, there would be another already taking up the vacated space.

Of all the monsters she and Demona had been fighting the last few weeks, it was the dark fey that tried Awen's patience the most. She thought she was in control of her rage, but the chittering little bastards easily proved otherwise.

Flexing her clawed hands, Awen turned to her sister, reaching for the younger Gargoyle's arm. "Much as I'd like to annihilate the slimy beasts, I don't think we have much time till sunrise!"

Demona nodded, gasping raggedly as she swiped her wild red hair put of her face. "It'll take us at least two hours to get back to the mansion with all the wind. We should leave this for another night."

"Aye," Awen agreed, turning to face the strong oncoming breeze. "Let's--YEEEEEOUCH!!!"

Horrified, Demona sprang back, crying out in shock as Awen wheeled around, her head spinning about, desperately trying to see what the hell was biting her tail!

"OW!! What the hell--?! Demona, get that thing off of my damned tail!!" Her eyes flaming red, Awen spun around again, her hands outstretched to throttle the reptilian dark fey that was now dangling from the tip of her tail, its claws sunk deep into her skin and its curved, filthy fangs wrenching away a huge chunk of her flesh. Awen roared and made a wild swipe at the monster, but, much to her exasperation and outrage, her tail instinctively pulled away, dragging the hissing, helpless dark fey with it.

Her patience sorely tried, Awen screamed and wheeled around in a tight circle, snapping her tail out as hard as she could.

Her tail sliced through the air with a sharp 'craaack!' and, with a gurgling yelp of fright, the dark fey lost its grip on her tail and was sent flying wildly across the gravel-topped roof.

Muttering and hissing, the disgusting little monster quickly heaved itself to its feet, swaying dizzily about as it flapped its wings for balance. A strip of bloodied skin dangled from its muzzle.

Demona started, her eyes widening at the sight of blood smeared on the dark fey's face. Oddly, it made her stomach flip to see the blood--her sister's--splattered across the dark fey's head and chest. She gritted her fangs, turning quickly to glance to Awen, briefly wondering if the elder Gargoyle would smash the little beast.

Growling, Awen was stooped over, clutching her twitching, blood-dripping tail between her hands as she examined the wound. Her long ears flattened slightly and her hair bristled in rage. "As if I didn't have enough problems … Sister, would you be so kind--?"

"Of course." Cracking the knuckles of fist into her palm, Demona snarled, turning back to the dark fey, completely forgetting about the other monsters flocking to the building.

Curious, the dark fey cocked its head at Demona, the strip of flesh waving sickeningly through the air. The piece slapped against its leathery throat, clinging there for a second ….

… And slid away, leaving a long streak of blood across its collar.

Freezing in midst stride, Demona blinked, then shook her head, stunned; no, that wasn't …?

Seeing her advance, the dark fey crouched to the ground, arching its wings up over its head, looking unnervingly like a provoked Gargoyle. It gave a kind of gurgling bark, stretching its tiny neck just a bit, trying to bare its fangs without dropping its prize.

There! Demona saw it again, a silvery, thin metallic band hooked around the monster's neck, a small yellow light blinking rhythmically, giving just the barest illumination to the numbering etched on the collar.

Demona jerked back, suddenly outraged, suddenly disgusted; whoever put this collar on the dark fey was not the same person who freed these monsters. Demona knew that for certain.

Only one person--one damned, wretched human in the whole world--tagged his creations like this.

"Sevarius!" Demona hissed, her eyes flaring, a grating shriek growing in her throat.

The dark fey blinked, then shrank back, not liking how Demona was acting. Frantic, it snapped its head back and forth, looking for the best escape route.

Screaming in terrified rage, the dark fey shot to the right, racing across the roof, leaping onto the air conditioner, and squeezing itself through the ventilation slats.

Momentarily stunned by the winged ghoul's swift disappearance, Demona screamed in fury and launched herself at the machine, slamming her fists into it, driving her talons into the metal. Inside, she could hear the dark fey scrambling downward, squeaking like a vicious rat.

"Damn it!" Demona shrieked and raked her claws across the air conditioner, but she knew it was no use; that thing must be wandering around in the air vents now. Whatever human stuck his head in there tomorrow was going to get a nasty surprise.

"Drop that, Demona; we've got to go!"

Awen's voice jolted Demona back to earth. Demona spun around, spotting her sister as she snarled, backhanding a Fenris Hound that had just managed to haul itself partway up onto the roof, causing it to growl-snort as its snout was whipped backwards. "We must leave now!"

"All right!" Demona had hardly turned around when a howling wail roared out of the bookstore below them, causing the pack of Fenris Hounds below to yelp in fright.

"Oh, FOR THE LOVE OF DANNA!!!" Her own eyes blazing red, Awen turned and leapt off the rooftop. "The security alarm?!"

She was right, and Demona spat a curse; the goddamned dark fey must have found a way out of the air vents and into the store, accidentally tripping the alarm.

Clenching her fists helplessly, Demona tore across the roof, leaping over the bookstore's sign just as a skree arrived, screaming and slashing at her wildly with its sickle-like claws.

Reaching Awen's side, Demona winced, biting her lower lip; she did see a collar on the dark fey, didn't she? It wasn't her imagination; it wasn't a trick of the light? Should she tell Awen?

Growling, Awen shoved her hair out of her face furiously. "Auc, what a terrible night! Let's get the hell out of here!"

"Aye," Demona agreed, but she didn't dare meet her sister's eye.

She didn't know whether she should tell Awen.

She hoped she wasn't making a mistake.

*******************************

THE HOME OF ANTON SEVARIUS,

14 MINUTES BEFORE SUNRISE:

Unable to defy the homing beacon on its collar, the dark fey trotted back to the secluded, dark house, winding its way through weeds and unkempt bushes, squeaking and chirping to other dark fey as they prowled about the lawn, looking for places to hide from the sun.

Uncomfortable staying out when the sun was so close to rising, the one dark fey increased its stride, bounding around to the back of the house and wriggling its way under a shrub. It sniffed in annoyance as a security camera swung around to peer at it. The dark fey scowled and pressed its blunt nose up against the lens, rapping at the glass with its claws.

The camera gave an affirmative chirp and drew back, slowly turning away from the tiny beast as a door, set back and hidden in the foundation of the house slid open, just big enough for a dark fey to scurry inside.

The dark fey sprang through the doorway, unfurling its ugly wings to slow its fall. It landed with a hard "kerwhack!" on a sterile metal table, but did not move another inch. It sat there, waiting patiently, not flinching as the door snapped shut overhead.

Hearing the dark fey's ungraceful landing, Anton Sevarius shifted in his chair, looking up from his microscope. Half a dozen tall, water-filled glass tubes, all holding a maturing, cloned dark fey within, threw weird rippling shadows across his face as he smiled expectantly at his pet.

"Well, hello there!" Sevarius said warmly, but the monster on the table just stared back at him stupidly. "Back from the hunt I see, and--Well now! Do you have a present for me?"

Retrieving a petri dish from a drawer, Sevarius hefted up a stun rod and stood, walking cautiously towards the dark fey. He might have cloned it, but that didn't stop it from making wild lunges for his jugular every now and then.

Thumbing the stun rod on, Sevarius leveled it at the dark fey, inching it towards the beast, chuckling a bit as it cowered back and hissed. "Ah, now, now, you know the drill. Here--" He slid the petri dish towards the dark fey. "--Drop it."

Narrowing its mottled eyes, the dark fey nevertheless lowered its head and dropped the bit of flesh in the plastic dish.

"Good monster! Now …" Sevarius jabbed the stun rod forward, not actually touching the dark fey, but still making it leap in terror. "Into the cage! Time for bed!"

The dark fey hesitated, looking as though it was ready to bolt in the opposite direction. Frowning, Sevarius bumped the forked head of the rod into the dark fey's wing, and, with a shriek, the tiny beast shot across the table, hitting the ground running. Sevarius jogged after it, waving the sparking rod in the air behind the monster, rounding the beast up and into a small alcove, filled almost to the ceiling with heavy, reinforced steel animal cages.

Already trapped inside, other cloned and collared dark fey screamed in unison, startled by the stun gun but revved up by the chase. In a near panic, the fleeing dark fey sprang up onto one wall of cages and rapidly crawled over the barred doors to the last open cage. It couldn't get in there fast enough.

"Much better!" Slamming the cage door closed, Sevarius latched the door, then sighed, thumbing off the stun rod. "This time you went into the damned cage .…"

Setting the computerized locks for all of the cages, Sevarius walked back to the dark fey's table, to the flesh sample waiting there in the petri dish. What would it be this time? More human flesh? Another dog? A cat?

Sevarius considered just putting the sample in the freezer and calling it a night for now, but he knew he wouldn't be able to rest, wondering what kind of DNA might be in this sample. It would keep him up for hours.

Gathering up the petri dish, Sevarius made his way across his laboratory, over to the proper tools, past cloning tubes and supercomputers .…

'All of which are horribly outdated,' Sevarius thought sourly. He didn't have to money to update his equipment, and even if he did, he was sure Xanatos and the Gargoyles would find a way to wreck it for him … and it wasn't so much the thought of the Gargoyles breaking into his home again to smash up this or that console or what not that infuriated him …

It was goddamned Xanatos, the man who had funded all of Sevarius' projects, and helped him advance the field of genetics and cloning, and now branded him a criminal, looking for any opportunity to make his life a living hell.

Xanatos screwed it all up! Ever since his damned son was born, Sevarius was cut off and left trapped in Manhattan, not risking leaving the city, knowing that there would be security personnel lurking in every airport, train station and bus terminal, and they would all recognize him. Right now he had to settle for moving to different locations throughout the city, using his hidden labs for research, until it was safe to leave for good.

Sevarius allowed himself a grim smile as he passed several incubators, where his specially engineered dark fey creatures--ten times the normal size of a dark fey--snarled and squirmed in their induced sleep.

Xanatos ought to like those.

Reaching his normal workstation, Sevarius cleaned and prepped a small piece of the bloody flesh the dark fey had retrieved. Setting it on a slide, Sevarius slipped the glass plates under his most powerful microscope and set it to its highest level.

It took only a moment for Sevarius to realize he wasn't looking at something normal. He frowned, wondering why the cellular structure looked so familiar.

Doubting himself, Sevarius took several digital photographs and sent the pictures to his XanaTech supercomputer (he couldn't wait to get rid of that piece of crap), and keyed in the commands for a photo cross-reference. Within seconds a dozen results appeared, and Sevarius' eyes lit up.

"At last!" he cried, triumphantly slamming his fist down on the edge of the computer. "At last, those miserable beasts brought me something useful!"

Of course, he would need to conduct tests to bee one hundred percent sure, but to Sevarius, there was no question; he had a fresh sample of Gargoyle DNA in his possession.

Even as he thought this, as his mind rushed through the hundreds of possibilities that he could use this DNA for, his brow began to furrow. Odd … compared to these pictures of the rest of the clan's cell structure, this one seemed slightly different. Sevarius stared at the new pictures, trying to see what it was that bothered him so much, but he couldn't find it.

Sevarius worked feverishly, running tests and counter-tests and comparing his findings against the notes he had on the Gargoyles.

For the most part, this certainly looked like Gargoyle DNA … but there were other strange components to it, things that Sevarius had never seen before, things he couldn't identify.

Dropping a sheaf of computer readouts down on his desk, Sevarius cupped his chin and silently debated.

What should he do next?

Thinking that, he shrugged.

Clone it, of course. See what happens.

************************************************************************NOW:

"So … it was you?"

Awen nodded, her long hair sweeping back over her wings. She shot Angela a warning look. "Don't tell your father!"

"I won't! I won't, I promise." Angela flapped her wings once to keep up momentum with her aunt. Tonight, she and Awen had been assigned to patrol Fifth Avenue and Times Square, something Angela had been looking forward to. She needed some time to talk to Awen alone, without the boys or her father or Hudson or any of the Xanatoses around. Angela had thought about everything they had gone through, everything she had remembered from her childhood on Avalon, and the more she thought about it, the more sure she became, and the more sure she became, the more the questions nagged at her, begging for solid answers.

Angela could remember, many, many years ago, before the Magus had died and before Goliath, Bronx and Elisa had arrived to help them battle with the Archmage, the Guardian had come across a creature on one of his journeys. He brought her home, and introduced her to the timid infants as an adult Gargoyle.

This memory stood out in her mind, because neither Angela nor any of her Rookery siblings had ever seen an adult Gargoyle before. Angela remembered this adult being impossibly tall and threateningly quiet. She made no move to greet the children, and, finally unnerved, the babies quickly dispersed. Angela remembered backing up until she bumped into the Princess' billowing gown, already housing two terrified hatchlings.

Somehow, the Gargoyle began to come around, and though she was imposing before, she was soon smiling and warm, playing with the young Gargoyles and teaching them such things like gliding short distances. The children began to call her "Teacher" or "Mentor".

Then tragedy struck, something Angela still felt to this night. Mentor and the Magus were up on the parapets, watching closely as the youngsters attempt to leap and glide from greater heights, each one becoming more and more bold as they discovered they could safely control their flight.

There was one brother though, one Angela didn't forget. He was called "Helios", so named for his blazing red skin and wild gold mane. He kept gliding further, kept going higher, even though the Magus and the Mentor were calling the children back; it was almost dawn.

Helios, for some reason, ignored their warnings. Angela often thought that he had heard them clearly enough, but he thought he could beat the sunrise. She remembered watching as he swooped out deeper over the forest, she could still hear the Magus choke out, "He'll never return in time!" The last thing Angela saw was her panicked Mentor lunging off of the parapets, beating her wings hard as her skin was tinged gold by the rising sun.

The children were never told what happened to Helios, though rumors spread that he had turned to stone in mid-flight and was smashed to a thousand pieces. Princess Katherine, the Magus and the Guardian all did their best to comfort the children, but they couldn't help the grief-stricken Mentor. Within a few short weeks she left, saying that she had to help some friends of hers, far away, assuring them she'd come back.

She never did.

And, of all the things she did remember, Angela couldn't remember what the Gargoyle's name was.

One thing she felt certain of though, was that her mentor had long black hair and dark purple skin, and thoughtful green eyes.

Finally, Angela couldn't take it. They had hardly left the Aerie Tower when she brought up the story, watching her aunt's face closely for any trace of surprise or recognition.

Awen only nodded and said, "Aye, 'twas me, Angela." After a brief silence Awen suddenly spoke again, saying how Angela and her brothers and sisters had gotten to be such a handful for the Princess and the others they decided they needed an adult Gargoyle to help properly raise the hatchlings. The Magus dredged up a spell and used it to send Tom to Awen's home. After locating her, Tom unsuccessfully tried to convince Awen to return with him to Avalon to help teach the children. At first, Awen refused, but thought it out and decided that she was being selfish, that the humans needed help and the children needed a teacher. She agreed to go to Avalon--and Tom looked mightily relieved.

Bewildered, Angela shook her head. "I--I thought you looked familiar …

"I never would have guessed you'd remember, Angela--you were so young then."

Angela smiled. "I have a pretty good memory, I think."

Awen grinned. "Aye, I'll say! Blast, I thought all the children had forgotten about that."'

"Oh no, we used to talk about it a lot. Where did you go?"

Awen grimaced. "There was a lot going on around that time, Angela. Another story … best saved for another night."

Awen said nothing more, and Angela knew that it would not be a good idea to prod her aunt. Besides, she felt satisfied enough with what she had learned, and a surprising feeling of relief swept through her.

But there was one last thing Angela wondered.

Before Helios had disappeared, there had been thirty-six Rookies altogether on Avalon, at least one child for every mated pair that had lived in Wyvern prior to the Massacre. Angela studied her aunt's face, comparing it to all of her brothers and sisters, looking for a similarity.

"Um … Aunt Awen?"

"Aye, Angela?"

"Can I ask you another question?"

Awen nodded, smiling. "Your father was always asking questions too, when he was your age. Go ahead, lass."

Angela hesitated, thought it over again, then decided there should be no harm in asking. "Did … did you have any children on Avalon?"

The smile on Awen's lips suddenly faded, and Angela was alarmed to see the elder female's face pale, so quickly one would have thought she had taken ill. Confused, Angela stared at Awen, biting her lower lip hard; what was wrong?

Setting her jaw, Awen turned away, looking down to the glowing city as it passed beneath them.

Not knowing what to do, Angela nevertheless reached for her aunt's shoulder, feeling a sudden need to comfort her. "Awen …?"

"I … I can't have children, Angela." Awen's voice was horribly strained, and she refused to meet Angela's horrified eyes. Her hands momentarily clenched as she fought to control her emotions. "I can't … won't … I can't have a baby, I don't think I ever will. I--I tried to make up for it by caring for you and your parents … Auc, Angela, let's not talk about this? Not now? Please?"

"Okay," Angela said hurriedly, hating herself for even bringing it up. "I'm so sorry, Aunt … I didn't know. I--I just--"

"How could you've known?" Awen's voice came out a bit gruffly and she slapped at a stray lock of hair irritably. "You didn't do anything wrong, Angela; me, I'm still trying to bring myself to terms with it." She glanced back to Angela, forcing a weak smile onto her face, trying to assure her niece that she was all right despite the glimmer in her eyes. "You see why I push you and the Trio so hard in your lessons? I care for you all like you were from my own body--and I'll be damned if I'll let any of you be hurt!"

Angela nodded quickly, her heart twisting deep inside her chest. "I know, I see that now," she stammered, turning her eyes away to the shimmering windows of the skyscrapers around them. She wracked her brain, trying to think of something to say to her aunt--something, anything to put Awen at ease and lift this shame Angela now felt. This sudden silence between them was agonizing.

"Heh."

Startled, Angela looked across to Awen, momentarily blinded by loose locks of hair fluttering about her face. "Did you say something, Aunt Awen?"

Awen's bright green eyes briefly met Angela's own black ones, and the half-hidden smirk on her face began to crack, growing into a smile. "Just thinking … the lads are always driving me mad, demanding to know why I work them so hard. If I told them what I told you, how do they think they'd react?"

Angela considered that, picturing Brooklyn, Lexington, and dear sweet Broadway all gathered in the main courtyard of the castle, standing before Awen as she explained that she viewed them as her own sons. And loving parents didn't raise them, like the Guardian and the Princess and the Magus had raised Angela; the clan raised the Trio collectively. They really didn't know what a parent's love felt like. They wouldn't really understand how Awen felt.

Angela shrugged. "They would think you were positively out of your mind."

"Aye, exactly!" Awen grinned, then Awen swept closer to Angela, coming nearly close enough to knock her out of flight. At the last second she pulled back, slowing her swoop, and flinging an arm around Angela's shoulders, hugging her tightly.

"I was afraid you hadn't learned enough about the male half," Awen said, biting back a laugh, "but it looks as though you have it all figured out!"

Angela's giggles erupted again into laughter as Awen broke away, dropping down towards Fifth Avenue for their first patrol. "I don't know everything!"

"Just remember that they have one thing on their minds, and it isn't helping you with dinner … although, in Broadway's case, it just might be."

************************************************************************

Lexington glanced down appreciatively to the dusky streets that wound through the neighborhood. "Hell's Kitchen … oughta see some action tonight."

Broadway nodded eagerly, pausing to wolf down the last of his cinnamon buns. "Always somethin' goin' on down here--"

"Ugh, don't talk with your mouth full!" Semi-disgusted, but still smiling, Brooklyn swept his gaze across the streets, through alleys, in front of stores and apartment buildings--looking for anything to keep them busy. "We've been doing all right out here, dontchya think?"

Broadway shrugged. "Nobody's taken potshots at us lately. They're all too scared."

Lexington smirked. "For good reason, huh?"

"He's got a point." Lacing his fingers together, Brooklyn stretched, popping his knuckles, his joints, flexing his muscles; Awen had given them a vigorous, albeit short lesson tonight. She just ran them through defensive and offensive blocks and strikes--with one limb tied or weighted down. She'd have them practice, then suddenly she would come at them, roaring, her eyes on fire, talons raise and fangs bared. If anyone had walked in on that moment, they would have seriously thought that Awen was going to kill them in the most brutal way imaginable.

She just about did, too. Brooklyn had his left arm tied to his side, and his tail was weighted down so he wouldn't be able to use it. He had been so stunned by Awen's berserker charge that he couldn't block her punch in time and was now sporting a kumquat-sized bruise on his beak.

That had royally pissed Awen off, and she had chewed him out, all but screaming that if she hadn't pulled her punch at the last second, she would have broken his neck. His opponent wouldn't be so kind, and bladiddy blah blah.

If Awen didn't constantly treat him like a hatchling, Brooklyn was sure he would be able to keep up with the lessons. Well, that, if she let up and slowed down some, and would cut him some slack (come on, he was training with Goliath and Hudson too, and was second in command--hey, didn't that mean he had authority over her?), then Brooklyn was sure he could kick ass.

Brooklyn glanced at Broadway and Lexington as they rooted around in the paper bag Broadway carried for any remnants of the cinnamon buns. They were having a hard time with the lessons too … not so much Lexington, because he was naturally spry and quick, able to accomplish most of the jumps and kicks Awen showed them. Broadway wasn't getting so winded now because he was adjusting to the trainings, but he too still tripped and lunged when he should have retreated. He didn't complain much, though.

And Angela, Brooklyn couldn't see any problem with her. It was like she lived for this kind of masochistic Jazzercise.

Probing the bruise on his beak, Brooklyn sighed, returning his gaze to Hell's Kitchen. No one in his clan particularly liked the neighborhood, but it was a good place to go when you needed to beat somebody up.

He felt like beating somebody up.

"Ugh." Scowling in disgust, Lexington quickly wiped his sticky hands off on his loincloth, moving fast so he wouldn't lose the wind current. "Well, kinda a slow night so far, huh?"

"Yeah, slow for the Kitchen," Brooklyn agreed, and, unable to fight it, yawned widely. "Only one mugging."

"Aw, it's still early," Broadway said, wadding up the paper back and tossing it to a battered trash can chained to the front of a closed bodega, missing by a mile. "You know how it is--things usually start to heat up around eleven-thirty or so."

WHAM!!!

With a chorus of petrified squawks the Trio all swerved around wildly, fighting to keep the current while at the same time not crashing into each other. They craned their necks, searching with wide eyes in every direction until a second, then a third explosion howled through the night.

Gulping, Broadway slapped his hand over his mouth. "Damn. Spoke too soon."

"I'll freakin' say." Brooklyn stared agape at the three billowing, twisting columns of smoke at the edge of the neighborhood, bright, flickering gold light reflecting off the funnels. Several smaller, muffled explosions resounded, pierced by the unmistakable crackle of laser fire.

'Where's there's smoke, there's laser guns,' Brooklyn thought wearily. "Five bucks says its Quarrymen."

Two blocks away a klaxon of sirens howled through the night as fire engines and squad cars raced each other to the source of the fire. Lexington briefly turned his head to follow the sound before replying, "Jackal and Wolf."

"Nah, it's Tomas Brode," Broadway snorted. "Matt said he had some sort of hidey-hole around here."

"Well, whoever it is, we can't just keep floating around here." Brooklyn grinned and pounded his fist into his opposite palm. "Shall we, gents?"

Broadway smirked and mockingly bowed his head. "After you, O intrepid Second-in-Commander."

Chuckling, Brooklyn gave his wings a pump and swept on ahead, taking point, not needing to tell his brothers to stay a safe distance behind him. The three young Gargoyles dipped low over the decrepit apartment buildings and dilapidated storefronts. The explosions and gunfire were increasingly growing faster, and louder, and the cool night air was rapidly warmed by flames and made impossible to breathe from the oily smoke. The fire sirens began to trail off as the Trio took shortcuts over the rooftops, shooting over the streets until they came to the very edge of the massive smoke funnel.

The acrid smell of the smoke gagged Brooklyn and he veered off quickly, waving for Lexington and Broadway to stay back. His eyes watering, Brooklyn flipped over in the air, gliding back to his brothers.

"Brook! Look! Down there!" Catching his shoulder, Lexington turned Brooklyn to look down to the street, aiming a talon at the chaos below.

It looked like a scene out of Saving Private Ryan or something; there were four heavily armored vans on the street, two of which were on their sides, one on its roof, and one was tilted sideways but supported by a fire hydrant that had seen better nights. All of the vans were battered and eviscerated, and, except for the tilted one, were all aflame, sparking and occasionally erupting in smoke and fire with a roar.

Crouching next to the tilted van, the Trio could see the shadowed outline of a man stooped by the gutted engine, peering through the torn grating. He held a hefty gun upright across his chest, watching something shrouded in the smoke and flames near him.

Grating, monstrous roars and choked, rasping human screams mixed with the snarling flames and dying splutter of laser fire. Even as the Gargoyles watched, drawing back away from the heat of the fire, they saw the twisted, broken body of a human man flung aside, rocketing through the fire and debris and landing with a dead, dull thud on the concrete.

The human beside the van jolted in horror, crying something the Trio couldn't understand--perhaps it had been the dead man's name. The cowering human's fear turned to grieving rage and, prepping the power core on his weapon, he sprang out from behind the van with a shriek, racing headlong into that enveloping smoke.

"Hey, don't!" Lexington cried, and without giving them the order, Brooklyn and his brothers arched their wings and dropped easily to the ground, Brooklyn hissing in surprise as he landed right on top of hot metal shrapnel littering the pavement.

Within that smoke there was a bloodcurdling scream, something deadly and primeval. There was a single laser blast, and then the human gave a howl of denial.

"Oh hell!" Brooklyn cried, rushing forward, breaking through the wall of smoke--

--And stopping short, causing Lexington and Broadway to plow right into him.

Shrouded in darkness and smoke, the Trio could see another figure there, standing in the midst of the fire, one hand twisted in the front of the human's army fatigues. The man writhed in its hand, wheezing for air, gasping and choking as blood erupted from his mouth, staining his teeth. His eyes were wide and glazed as he stared at the thing clutching him, feebly trying to pull himself free, his dangling legs weakly kicking at the shattered laser rifle beneath his feet.

Seeing the three young Gargoyles come galloping into the smoke, the figure snorted, bull-like, cocking its head and glancing at them, one bright blue, glowing eye arched in annoyance. It snarled, a snaky tail curling around its arched feet impatiently, brushing its caped wings. Brooklyn could make just make out the long horns arching from its brow, back out of its wild hair.

Not understanding, Lexington crept forward a pace, his jaw hanging open. "Is that … that isn't Awen? Brook, that's not Awen, right? Awen's supposed to be with Angela, right?"

Losing interest in its victim, the creature snorted again. Turning to fully face the Rookies, it brutally--carelessly--flung the human man away, slamming him with a cry back up against the tilted van.

Broadway all but jumped out of his blue skin at the impact. "Whoa, jeez!" he cried, springing back as the man ricocheted off the side of the van and was then promptly reacquainted with the ground. Horrified, the giant Gargoyle wheeled around, his eyes flaring as he roared, "Why the hell did you do that?!"

The creature loped forward, its neon eyes glowing more brightly, growing more sinister as it drew closer. Lean, muscular arms were held out at its sides, the claws poised, the tail raised and whipping about feverishly now.

Brooklyn hesitated, his eyes sliding briefly back and forth to watch Broadway and Lexington. Broadway was at his left elbow, snarling challengingly and curling his hands into fists, his muscles occasionally giving a spasm as he fought the urge to lunge forward and tear this Gargoyle-thing limb from limb.

Lexington, meanwhile, seemed to have realized something was seriously wrong. Dropping to all fours, he backed up, his small body tensing. "Brooklyn …"

The creature's stride lengthened, its wings snapping open with a hiss of air and leather, making her look three times her true size.

Lashing a hand out to catch the bellowing Broadway, Brooklyn hauled his brother back, sweeping Lexington behind them both, pushing them away as the Gargoyle raced forward, shrieking.

"Who are you?" Brooklyn shouted, his eyes flying open in panic. "Stop, dammit! STOP!!"

The thing seemed to be only a heartbeat away when one of the flipped vans exploded, flames erupting and spewing heavenward like a volcano.

The creature didn't even seem to blink at the explosion. It kept tearing forward, claws scraping against the abused street.

Twisted, blacked, fiery chunks of steel and plastic rained down from the black clouds, slicing through anything they could reach. Brooklyn roared for the three of them to split up, get out of the way, ducking his head as a ball of flame rocketed over his horns.

As he flung his arm up to shield his eyes, Brooklyn looked back to the creature, to see where she was … and just about wet his loincloth.

Kicking the remains of a burning wheel axel aside, a young Rookie Awen stood there in the swirling smoke, hissing as she watched Broadway and Lexington dive for cover, leaping out of her reach.

For a moment, Brooklyn forgot to keep running. He froze there, like a statue, staring with wide, horrified eyes at Awen, slowly turning to measure him up. How could she …?

'No, wait!' Brooklyn felt his heart leap into his throat; the Rookie standing there before him looked like Awen, but defiantly was not. Awen's skin was dark purple, and her wing struts were blue. This Gargoyle's skin was a vibrant green, her wing struts a blinding orange. Awen's hair was night black and her eyes were dark emerald. This Gargoyle's hair was a frigid white, and the pupils of her eyes were a sickening, wild fuchsia color. Even this Gargoyle's lips were ice blue, as though she had been submerged in artic waters for days, and all the claws on her hands and feet were bone white.

Brooklyn wanted to believe that this was a dream, or that maybe this could be Awen's daughter, that she had been on Avalon and then somehow found her way here.

But in his heart, Brooklyn knew the truth.

"SRAGH!!" With a shriek that shattered his eardrums, the anti-Awen lunged, a bright green blur, the reflection of the van fires reflecting off of her chest armor and blinding Brooklyn's eyes. He swore, flinging a hand up to cover his eyes and trying to spin away, out of the Gargoyle's slashing swing--

CRACK! The girl fell short of Brooklyn, but even as she hit the ground she was already turning, ducking and pivoting on one foot, her leg lashing and smashing into Brooklyn's side, crushing ribs, bruising lungs.

The force of the kick took Brooklyn off his feet before he even realized he was struck. He slammed to the ground, skidded a few feet, and she was on him again, screaming insanely, her fists and feet slamming into his face and chest, pummeling him. Stunned though he was by pain, Brooklyn forced himself to snap out of his stupor, get a grip! His eyes flaring, he snarled, whipped an arm out to block her attack--

She dodged him, using her tail to slap his arm aside while she punched hard, driving the knuckles of her fist into his throat.

"Huk--!" Voice silenced, air cut off--'WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS?! I NEED HELP!!!'

Hissing like a massive wildcat, the anti-Awen hopped back. Brooklyn had only one joyful split second to hope that she had enough when her hand suddenly arched down, catching him by the belt.

Choking, Brooklyn's eyes popped open. What was she--?!

With a roar of effort, the female Gargoyle dragged him up right, catching him by the shoulder and lifting him high over her head.

Looking down at that white mane, Brooklyn coughed. Oh, this was not good.

Screaming, the Gargoyle threw him with all of her strength, threw him across the sidewalk and smashing through the plate-glass window of a Vietnamese grocery store. Brooklyn tried to fight her, tried to open his wings and get feeling back in his legs, but it had been so long before he could take a breath. Everything in his body, in his beaten chest felt squeezed, collapsed, tight. He was helpless, feeling thousands of glass shards stab into his skin.

Brooklyn collided with a cash register, both slamming to the floor. The impact jarred Brooklyn's lungs open and he gasped, swallowing air, like his chest was a vacuum trying to fill itself to bursting.

Sputtering and coughing, Brooklyn weakly rolled himself onto his side, dully becoming aware of loud sirens. The police were coming. God, he hoped Broadway and Lex would take care of psycho-chick out there before she found the cops. He didn't doubt that she'd go Reservoir Dogs on them.

Over the cry of sirens and periodic snarls of fire, Brooklyn heard glass crunching, as though underfoot, followed by an icy growl.

Gasping for more oxygen, Brooklyn forced himself to his knees, baring his fangs as he watched a pair of neon blue eyes approaching him.

The anti-Awen snarled again, her hair bristling in rage. She slowly approached Brooklyn, maybe to size him up. Was she expecting an attack?

To Brooklyn, she looked like a lion stalking its prey.

She paused three or five feet before Brooklyn, her eyes narrowing. Her hand drifted down the side of her dark blue jumpsuit, the tips of her white claws softly scratching the handle of one mammoth gun strapped to her thigh.

Though Brooklyn never liked to have a gun aimed at him, he especially didn't like the way this female was drawing hers out, aiming it carefully at his head. She took her time pulling it out of the holster, leveling it at Brooklyn's face. It was like she was savoring every tiny movement just before she pulled the trigger. Was she taunting him? Daring him to try to escape?

A raspy snarl hissed through Brooklyn's beak as he struggled to his feet, still fighting to catch his breath, regain his balance. He wouldn't be able to get out of the way in time, he knew it.

Over the white haired female's shoulder, Brooklyn spotted two glowing eyes bobbing into view. Recognizing Broadway as the big Gargoyle tip-toed up to the shattered window, Brooklyn fought to keep his face still, and he hurriedly flicked his eyes back to the vicious thing before him, hoping she hadn't noticed.

The thing cocked a brow ridge at Brooklyn's steady glare, suddenly puzzled by his boldness. She hesitated, drawing back a step.

Not wasting any time, Broadway roared and lunged, slamming his tree-like arms around the startled female's body, pinning her arms and wings to her sides. Broadway held fast, snarling and wincing as the female shrieked and writhed insanely in his hold, unable to raise her gun to shoot.

"Hold 'er, Broadway!" Brooklyn managed to croak, grabbing a corner of the counter and dragging himself upright. He shot a quick look out the annihilated window, back to the destruction on the street. He could see Lexington out there, bent over the human they had seen get whipped into a truck. Satisfied that the man was still alive, Lexington wheeled about and raced back to the store.

The female Gargoyle howled through clenched teeth. She stopped trying to wriggle out of Broadway's grasp, but before either he or Brooklyn could sigh in relief, she screamed again and snapped one leg up--not back, but up, up straight, perfectly vertical, toe claws just barely brushing the ceiling. Broadway managed a look of horror just before the girl's spiked kneecap slammed into his face, splitting skin, cracking his nose, loosening front teeth.

Brooklyn could only stand there, jaw agape.

His head thundering with pain, Broadway cried out and stumbled back, immediately dropping the female to the glass littered floor. Broadway clapped both of his hands to his face, blood seeping through his fingers. Mercilessly, the female dropped the floor and lashed her tail out, snapping her tail across Broadway's ankles and taking his feet out from underneath him.

"You bitch!" Brooklyn suddenly found the strength in his legs again and he tore at the female, roaring wildly, his hands outstretched for her shoulders … or quite possibly her neck …

The girl snorted, wolf-like, and easily ducked under his talons. Even as Brooklyn was retreating and feinting to the left, he still couldn't move fast enough. The next thing he knew, the girl had taken him by both wrists and ruthlessly whipped him across the grocery store, sending him flying into a display of vegetables.

A satisfied smirk inched across the female's face. Her tail nimbly retrieved her fallen gun from the floor, dropping it in her ready hand. Priming the laser core, she turned back to the destroyed picture window, knowing there was still one more Rookie to deal with.

"HRAH!!" Lexington appeared atop a shelf, roaring his fiercest, baring his fangs, his eyes a blinding white. All his bravado drew only a mere snort from the female; she was more annoyed that he had managed to sneak in than alarmed by his appearance. She lifted her arm up, training the gun on Lexington's head.

Snarling, Lex launched himself off of the shelves, one hand outstretched for the girl's weapon. The female Gargoyle hissed in annoyance and drew her arm back, stepping half a pace away … and not realizing that she had given Lexington an unobstructed shot at her face.

As her opposite arm snapped out, claws hooked to snag Lexington's throat, Lex lifted his arm that he had been hiding behind his back. In his hand was a large bottle of red Tabasco sauce.

Lexington swung with all his might, yelping in agony as he felt the female's talons catch in his flesh. He flung his free arm up, shielding his eyes as he smashed the glass bottle across the suddenly wide-eyed female's face.

The Gargoyle gave a scream of agony that made the building quake and the Trio's blood turn to ice. Promptly dropping Lexington, the girl sprang back, clapping one hand to her face, clawing frantically at the hot sauce and glass in her eyes and in the wounds in her cheeks. She shrieked-howled and leapt backwards blindly, just clearing the broken picture window. She staggered out into the street, snarling and roaring as she wiped the blood and sauce away.

Brooklyn, finally freed of the rutabagas he had landed in, hit the ground beside the stunned Lexington and grabbed his bicep, hauling him up. "Good thinking, Lex."

Wide-eyed, Lexington shrugged. "W-well … I couldn't think of anything else …"

One hand stilled planted against his broken nose, Broadway sat up, hazarding a peek out into the streets. He shook his head as he watched the strange Gargoyle furiously rub her face along the length of her arm. "I almost feel bad … but I don't."

Police sirens, at a deafening pitch now, suddenly cut out, and were immediately replaced by shrieking brakes. Brooklyn flinched at the sound; jeez, how long had this whole fracas taken? Three minutes? It felt like hours.

"You there!" a human voice shouted, nearly drowning out by clattering footfalls and growling fires. "You, stop there!"

The anti-Awen twitched, turning in the direction of the voice. She managed to open one blazing blue eye, and she hissed at the police, whom the Trio could now see appearing at the edge of the store, slowing their run and cautiously fanning out. They saw that the female was holding a gun; there was no protocol for dealing with gun-wielding Gargoyles yet, so the humans looked a mite concerned.

Wiping the last of the Tabasco sauce from her eyes, the girl gave a bitter hiss and spun around, drawing several yelps from the assembled police and firefighters.

She ignored them all, and stared straight at the Vietnamese grocery store.

Brooklyn stiffened. "Oh shit."

The green-skinned Gargoyle roared as her arm snapped up, squeezing the trigger on her gun. The street lit up as yellow-white laser blasts shrieked from the gun's muzzle, sending the Trio squawking for cover. The crackling blasts riddled the grocery store, blowing melon-sized holes in the brick walls, obliterating the doors, the awning, all the shelves and display stands.

Brooklyn, Lexington and Broadway all slammed to the floor, clapping their arms and wings over their heads as brick and flaming drywall rained down, fluorescent lights blowing apart, cans of food and fruits exploding. Even with their eyes clenched shut, they could still see the laser bolts hissing by overhead.

Outside, the humans began to shout in horror and rage, diving behind police cruisers and fire trucks. Someone shouted for the female Gargoyle to stand down, drop her weapon. In response, the thing wheeled about and fired on the assembled, cowering police, blasting craters in the cruisers and rocking the cars severely on their tires.

Snarling and hissing, the Gargoyle furiously swiped at her burning eyes before spinning away and leaping for a decrepit looking building. Hooking the claws of her free hand into the old brick, the Gargoyle hauled herself up to the roof, shrieking at the scrambling humans below. Two cops found their nerve and fired on her, but she hardly twitched at the bullets that zinged past her.

She fired twice more at the people on the street, luckily still too blind to get an accurate shot. With a frustrated, sneering hiss, the female Gargoyle sprang up onto the eve of the building, disappeared over the roof, and was gone.

Only when the humans began shouting again and no gunshots heard were the Trio able to warily sit up, grimacing at the cold shower from the sprinkler system as it fought to smother the burning debris.

Lexington spoke first. "What the hell was that?"

Snorting, Broadway began to stand, yelping in surprised as Brooklyn lunged and snagged his wrist. "What--?"

"Wait, get back down!" Yanking Broadway to the floor, Brooklyn risked a look outside before turning to his brothers. "We can't go out there. We'll have to sneak out."

Confused, Broadway's ears pricked forward. "Huh? Why? They'll need help--"

"They just had one Gargoyle attack them, unprovoked," Brooklyn answered, careful to keep his head low. "They're wigged out. Whaddya think they'll do if they see three more Gargoyles pop out of nowhere?"

Broadway grimaced and Lexington frowned. "You're right," said Lexington, craning his neck around as he searched for an exit. "They'll think we're gonna attack them too." He glanced at Broadway and Brooklyn, one brow ridge arched. "This isn't gonna help our public image any, huh?"

Brooklyn's shoulders fell. "Guess not."

Shaking off the streams of water, Brooklyn led his brothers to the back of the annihilated store, crawling as quickly and as silently as they could over the splintered metal shelving and sparking wires. Broadway saw the door to the back room first, and the three just manage to dart in as flash light beams swept over the chaos.

Charging through the back exit, the Trio wasted no time in clawing their way up the back of the store, taking to the sky, circling over the street once to watch the humans contain the fires. They saw a pair of EMTs wheel a human into the back of an ambulance, the one they had seen the strange Gargoyle toss aside. Other paramedics were stooped over the dark silhouettes of the other fallen men. Some of the paramedics began emergency resuscitation. Most of the others checked the fallen men, shook their heads and moved on.

His hands clenching and unclenching, Broadway looked over to Brooklyn. "What now?"

Frowning, Brooklyn sighed heavily, arcing around to change direction. "Y'need to ask?"

Glancing one last time to the battleground below, the Rookies turned back to the Aerie Building.

************************************************************************It was growing late in the morning. The dark sky was turning to bronze on the horizon, and Awen knew it was time for her to return home. As they trailed her out into the courtyard of the castle, Goliath again asked for Awen to stay at the castle. Again, Awen refused.

"I'm not ready, Brother," she insisted. "This place … it might have changed, but it still holds painful memories. I can't live here until I can walk the corridors without shuddering."

Goliath sighed, but still nodded. "I understand, Sister. It only troubles me to think that you spend your days alone and unprotected."

"Not completely unprotected." Accepting a ball Bronx held in his mouth, Awen pitched it across the courtyard, grinning as the dog barked gleefully and charged after it. "I do have friends there."

Giggling as she watched Bronx careen into a bush, Angela nodded. "Father Grady does well to guard you."

Beside her, Hudson grunted softly as he eased onto the edge of the water fountain, his knees creaking painfully. Beckoning for Bronx to bring the ball to him, Hudson glanced up at Awen. "How've yer dreams been, lass? Gettin' any better?"

Wincing, Awen shrugged with one shoulder, side-stepping Bronx as he skidded to a halt. "Not much better. I still don't understand them."

Angela helped herself to a seat next to Hudson, looking up at Awen and Goliath with wide eyes. "I almost forgot you were having bad dreams. What are they about?"

"I don't rightly know." A frown creased Awen's forehead; these terrible dreams had been occurring nearly every day for over two months. Awen never understood what she was seeing, never recognized the places or the people, or even the weapons. She often dreamt that someone was stalking people--not herself, exactly; it was like she was seeing everything through a stranger's eyes. Someone was hunting humans in different, foreign places. One day Awen dreamt she would be in the jungle. The next day, a desert, or frigid mountaintop.

The dreams were horrifyingly violent. The looks of terror on the humans' faces were enough to scare Awen out of her sleep. Who were those people? She never knew their names, but somehow understood their function; that man there in the corner was a guard. The woman in the center of the room was an ambassador. The general or king or president she was searching for would be on this floor of the place, or that wing of the mansion, or in this underground bunker.

Awen usually jolted awake before "she" ever found her primary target. Usually she would spend several long, frightening minutes looking about her in confusion. The dream had been so vivid, so … visceral. Was she really awake? Was she still dreaming?

'Canola, Mother of Dreams, help me!' Awen thought, heaving a sigh before returning her attention to her friends. "The last few days haven't been nearly as terrible. And yet still, the dreams come."

Goliath softly growled-sighed. "Aye … I know how it is."

Sympathetic, Awen turned to Goliath, her hand reaching across to grasp his shoulder. Neither one spoke, but Goliath smiled faintly, his silent way of thanking her.

Chuckling, Awen squeezed Goliath shoulder. "I'd best be off."

"Will you return tomorrow evening?" Goliath asked as she unfurled her wings.

Awen nodded, stooping to give Bronx a good scratch on the neck. "Aye; Demona is still away on business. I'll take a quick sweep of her home to be sure all's in order, then come from there."

"It's a plan then," Hudson said, reaching out to grasp Awen's wrist. "Take care now--"

"Awen! Waitaminnit!!"

Stunned, all five Gargoyles' heads snapped up towards the brightening sky, and all five jaws dropped open as Broadway, Lexington, and Brooklyn landed haphazardly before them, dripping wet, smeared with ash, riddled with cuts, burns and bruises.

"What in God's name happened to you guys?" Angela cried, leaping to her feet and rushing to Broadway, her eyes widening at the dried blood under his nose.

"We were attacked," Broadway answered, yelping as Angela gingerly probed the bruises on his face.

Brooklyn nodded quickly, turning to face Awen and Goliath. "We were in Hell's Kitchen when we heard explosions--" Awen gave a barely noticeable twitch at that, "--and when we got there, there was this Gargoyle fighting some guys--she looked like Awen!"

Awen's eyes popped open. "What?!"

"Brooklyn, slow down!" Goliath commanded, but a deep frown furrowed his craggy face. "Begin again; what happened?"

Drawing in a deep breath to compose himself, Brooklyn stood up straighter, wincing slightly in pain as he did so. "We were flying over the Kitchen, and we heard some explosions. When we got there we saw this Gargoyle fighting a bunch of guys in armor--I dunno who they were, but they looked pretty serious."

"And this Gargoyle looked like me?" Awen asked, incredulous. "That's not possible."

"But she did!" Lexington protested. "Her coloring was different, but it was you, Awen! Er, I mean … somebody who looked like you. A younger you."

Suspicious glances spread through the clan. Not understanding, but noticing the glares nonetheless, Awen shifted uncomfortably. "No, that's not right … I don't have any children, and I don't have any … siblings …. What? Why are you all looking me like that?"

Goliath's face grew hard as he turned back to the Trio. "What did this girl look like?"

The boys paused to think it over. "Well," Brooklyn began, standing up straight. "She was, like, maybe my height, or closer to Broadway's … she had white hair and green skin. And orange wing struts--"

"Freaky eyes," Lexington added. "Like pinkish purple."

Broadway growled loudly as he rubbed his face. "Limber as hell," he grumbled, earning a confused and irritated look from Angela.

Brooklyn nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and she was wicked young, like our age. A Rookie. She knows how to fight too--look at us!"

At that, Broadway promptly pointed to his broken nose and Lexington revealed the claw marks on his throat. "See?" they said in unison.

"Who was she fightin', lads?" Hudson asked. "Did ye see?"

Lex shrugged as best he could. "Nobody I recognized."

"I think she killed most of them," Broadway spat, accepting a hug from Angela.

"She was pretty vicious," Brooklyn agreed. "She even fired on the police when they showed up. Didn't give a damn … and she's not shy about being spotted either; she made a hell of a mess."

"We had to sneak outta there once the cops came," Broadway continued, his voice sounding muffled from his battered nose. "Brook was right; a Gargoyle just flipped out on the cops, and they wouldn't have liked seeing us."

His eyes narrowing, Brooklyn clenched his fists. "You know what that means, don't you?"

Again, everyone turned to stare at Awen. Baffled, she took a rapid step back. "What?"

Hudson spoke first. "Awen … this girl sounds like she may be a clone o' ye."

"Clone?" Awen's brow furrowed and she stared at the ground, wracking her brain. "Clone … clone … you've told me about those. They're essentially copies of a person, aye?"

"Aye." Goliath had a look of disgust and fury on his face, but he still reached comfortingly for his sister. "They're beings formed from one's one flesh, virtually an exact duplicate. You've seen Thailog and the others in the Labyrinth? You know they are clones, made from our own blood."

"Aye, created by that human …" Awen paused to search for the name. "Sevarius? Goliath, this is ludicrous; I've never seen this man! I can't see any possible way he could have … cloned me, if that's the term."

"He's found ways before .…" Glancing the sky, Goliath sighed heavily. "We'll have to continue this tomorrow night. We'll contact Bluestone to see if he's come across anything, and go from there."

Accompanying her friends to the turrets, Awen bade them all a good day's sleep and reluctantly took flight. It made no sense! What in the world could the Trio have possibly seen?

Maybe they were mistaken. In the heat of the battle, minds tend to race and details are blurred. Perhaps the Rookies didn't see clearly and just assumed ….

But that wasn't like them at all.

******

Through the high powered scope of her computerized binoculars, the creature tagged as NEWA #12 followed the black shadows as it leapt from a turret atop the Aerie Building, and quickly faded away into the purpling sky.

Gritting her fangs, her eyes shining bright blue, Newa lowered the binoculars. It would be difficult tracking the Gargoyle back to her home during the day, but Newa would find a way. She didn't care so much about being seen, but she would have to keep human casualties to a minimum. No need to create a trail for everyone to follow.

Which reminded her; one of the mercenaries had survived the fight earlier that evening. She'd have to find and eliminate him before he talked, and told the other humans who she was … what she was.

Newa herself couldn't talk. They had destroyed that function in her brain so she could be more easily programmed, and so that if the enemy ever captured her, they could not torture her for information.

She could roar, they kept that to help her frighten her opponents, but she could not communicate. She could offer the occasional soft, raspy growl, but it meant nothing. But really, Newa 12 didn't mind not being able to talk. She never had a reason to speak anyways.

To this day, Newa still didn't understand why she broke free of her secondary programming. It had happened roughly six months ago; standing behind the Hungarian generális as he addressed his secret police, Newa had blinked, as though snapping out of a trance. She shook her head, drawing surprised looks from the humans around her, because she never, ever moved.

The generális, her owner, had seen the confused expressions on his men, and he turned to regard her ….

And she tore his throat out.

One swift sweep of her right claws. She never stepped forward, never lunged. Her left hand remained against her back, still folded, and her tail stayed silently coiled at her feet.

Newa hadn't blinked as blood sprayed across the room, saturating her armor. It hadn't been her first kill … but it had been the first one she chose to do herself, free of order. Her own choice.

It was the first time she felt emotion. She felt hatred. She felt joy as she brutally killed all of the men in the office. She felt disappointment as the last one dropped heavily to the ground, then relief as she found more humans rushing through the corridors, guns drawn, alerted by the shrieks of pain in the office.

Newa annihilated the despotic government, everyone from her master the dictator to the parking garage attendant, anyone she could find. Then she escaped, using her programming to disappear into cities and woodlands.

Newa had faint dreams before, but starting that day her faint dreams became visceral nightmares. She saw her sisters and their owners. She saw strange landscapes, and fought in wars with oddly armored people.

She dreamt about her mother.

And Newa hated it all.

Using her dreams she tracked down her sisters and their owners, and killed every one of them.

The dreams began to go away.

She didn't care a whit about who the people were. She killed them because she hated life, she hated humans, and the only thing she loved was murder. She killed her sisters because they were always in her head, filling her up with the emotion they could not express, with their memories, never leaving her alone.

Newa 12 lived to cause pain and death in the worst ways imaginable. She didn't care about justice. She didn't care about the grief she caused the victims' families, didn't care what anyone looked like.

She just loved to kill. And she needed silence.

Her mission was nearly complete. She found her mother. Once the mother was dead then Newa could have silence, be able to dream her own dreams and kill without someone else's conscience constantly, incessantly invading her scarred mind.

Once Mother was silent, Newa would track down the human. She didn't think of him as "father", really, none of the clones did. He was their creator, but the sisters understood that they were not like him at all.

Newa 12 wanted him to die for making her so imperfect. She couldn't control her thoughts, she couldn't speak, she had been denied the freedom of choice, she had been a drone to an idiot despot for months ….

Sevarius had taken away everything that would have made Newa 12 the perfect warrior. And he had tortured all of them.

Newa was going to pay him back the favor.

A slicing pain caught Newa in the stomach and, unable to stop herself, she doubled over, one arm clapped over her abdomen. Knees buckling, glowing eyes wide, Newa 12 sank down on the skyscraper rooftop, a piercing howl renting through her clenched teeth. Her tail snapped wildly and her wings flared as convulsions wracked through her body. Her muscles rippled unnaturally, as though rodents were crawling under her skin. Sweat burst onto her forehead as she broke into a fever, blood rushing from her face as her empty stomach heaved against her ribs.

For several painfully long seconds, Newa 12 couldn't breathe. She tasted blood in her mouth as her fangs threatened to crack apart under the pressure. Her limbs twisted, straining to pull out of their sockets.

Gradually, the seizure faded away, leaving Newa sprawled on the rooftop, gasping for breath and choking on blood and bile. Her whole body felt leaden; it was impossible to sit up.

Her normal fuchsia eyes returning, Newa 12 blinked up at the pinking sky, struggling in her rudimentary way to think. She hadn't had a seizure that bad in a while. She had been suspicious when she finally arrived in the United States, that her episodes were reduced to mostly muscle twitches and stomach pains. She had decided to more carefully monitor her health and not trigger another attack. Newa couldn't afford it.

But she hadn't eaten in a while, and she had opted not to sleep in stone the past three days to save time and to look out for assassins. Then she had fought the humans, and immediately after that, the three male Gargoyles (she never imagined those existed, male Gargoyles …. Then again, she had never imagined anything at all). She was exhausted, and the seizure struck at its most opportune moment.

Hefting herself up on an elbow, Newa dragged herself deeper into the shadow cast by the Aerie Building. She'd sleep for a while, then find some food. She needed the energy, especially if she was going to fight Mother.

One half thought disturbed her as she struggled to sleep; many of her clone sisters had died of some strange ailment. Newa 12 had never seen the stricken sisters, and had no idea how they died, how long they had suffered under their "defects".

If she knew how to, Newa 12 would have prayed that she be spared that defect, that the seizures go away, just long enough to complete her mission.

She slept.

************************************************************************

THE FOLLOWING NIGHT:

Blinking against the unseasonably warm wind, Father Daniel Grady stepped out of St. John's Cathedral, warily peering left and right across the parking lot before calling out, "All clear, Awen."

The violet-colored Gargoyle dropped to the ground with a barely audibly thud, crouching down in the shadows momentarily, her gleaming eyes taking in their empty surroundings. Still ever cautious, Awen slowly rose to her feet. "We'd better make this quick; being out in the light always makes me anxious."

"Understandably so," Grady agreed, picking through his key ring as he and Awen walked along the back of the cathedral, coming upon the first of four large donation boxes. "But this won't take too long. After all, you just about carry the whole load back into the church."

Father Grady unlocked the heavy padlock and pulled the rusting door open, spilling dozens of clothing packed garbage bags out into the parking lot. He hefted up two bulging sacks while Awen four in either hand and one under her arm.

"Anything you want out of these?" Grady asked as they piled the bags in the back room, where volunteers would sort them the next day.

Awen raised a brow ridge skeptically at the clothing spilling across the floor. "Perhaps not … nothing fits me."

"Are you all set on blankets, though?" Grady asked as they stepped out into the balmy night again. "Pillows? Dishes? Anything?"

Awen laughed at the priest's persistence. "I reckon I'm set, Fath--"

Father Grady was so preoccupied with Awen's needs that he never saw the shadow rapidly descending upon them. Awen began to look up curiously, but she cried out in fright and rage as something massive slammed into them, sending Awen flying back off her feet and slamming Father Grady to the ground.

Father Grady's eyes rattled around in their sockets, and the whole left side of his face felt raw from where he had skidded across the brickwork. Hissing in pain, Grady rolled over onto his back, only to shout in horror as an arched green foot slammed down on his chest, pinning him to the ground.

Grady stared up in disbelief at the white haired green skinned Gargoyle, towering above him, snarling monstrously … and more importantly, at the gun she had trained on his head.

Most of his life, Daniel H. Grady had been called "Holy Grady" by his peers and students because of his uncanny ability to stay calm under pressure, to fire off a witty remark at an otherwise unbearable situation.

The only remark he come up with this time was, "Whoa."

A catlike scream shattered the air, and Grady saw Awen shoot over his head, grabbing the gun arm of the hissing green Gargoyle and shoving it away, far from Grady's face. With the opposite hand, Awen folded her fingers down and brutally slammed a line of knuckles into the new Gargoyle's arm socket, causing the arm to jerk unnaturally and cause a wet, snapping sound.

The green Gargoyle was shrieking the entire time, her free hand arching out to rake her talons across Awen's tightly clenched eyes. Awen snarled and swore, dropping the girl's arm and allowing the new creature to spring back, freeing Father Grady.

Grady scrambled to his feet, yelping as he felt Awen's claws hook into his jacket and pulling him upright. Gasping for breath, he backpedaled rapidly, letting Awen spread her wings to shield him.

"Friend of yours?" he finally asked, dully amazed by how calm his voice sounded.

Awen's tail whipped viciously across the brick path. "No one I know. Father, get inside and call my friends! Call for help!"

Grady hesitated, looking over Awen's hunched shoulder at the thing lurking in the shadows. "Will you be okay?"

"Go and get help!" Awen roared, and, without further protest, Grady shot back into the cathedral.

***************

Awen was trying not to be sick.

When the creature first knocked her down, Awen hadn't been able to identify anything, except that it had bright green skin, and wore blue and silver armor.

As she slid a distance over the path, Awen's mind was already furiously at work; who had attacked them? One of the clan's enemies? A mutant? An assassin working for the Quarrymen?

Awen had rolled back over her shoulder and dropped into a tense crouch, ready to spring forward and defend her friend Grady … but then Awen saw what was pinning him down, and felt her blood turn to ice, her stomach fall away.

Awen was looking into her own face.

The creature was younger, a Rookie, certainly, and her skin was green, hair white, the glowing eyes crystal blue, something Awen never saw before … but there was no mistaking it.

The girl looked exactly like Awen.

The creature looked down at Father Grady beneath her foot, and prepped the laser core on her weapon, and there was nothing Awen could do but react. She lunged through the air, screaming, blocking the girl's gun and driving a leopard's paw strike into the Rookie's arm, pulling it out of her socket.

The girl had already seen that Awen was attacking, and tried to blind Awen with a rake to the eyes, but wasn't fast enough. She leapt back with an outraged scream, her right arm dangling uselessly at her side.

Now as Awen stood there, with Grady safely back inside the church, she was trying her damnedest not to throw up, her stomach heaving against her ribs. She had done that strike on hundreds of people with hardly a twitch, but to do it now …

… To do it on this girl ….

Irritably, the green Gargoyle holstered her gun with her good hand, then cradled her slumping right shoulder. She paced in the shadows, her eyes never leaving Awen.

Oh, by the goddess Danna, what had Awen done? And the lads were right, they were right about the girl, the way she looked ….

Upset as she was for hurting the child, Awen couldn't break from her stance. She couldn't relax. The girl was pacing like a caged animal, and all of her instinct told Awen to be wary.

Across the shadows, their eyes met, locking. The girl lifted her chin, baring her fangs defiantly at Awen.

Awen swallowed hard, at a loss for what to do. She hesitated, then lifted a hand to the girl, slowly straightening up. "I don't want to fight you."

The girl snorted in annoyance. She sidestepped away, her eyes never leaving Awen. The Rookie sidled up to one wall of the huge cathedral and planted her misshapen shoulder against the brickwork, her opposite hand clutching her elbow.

Awen winced. "Here, let me help--"

"HARGH!!" With a brutal howl the young Gargoyle threw her weight against the cathedral wall, jamming her shoulder against the mortar as her opposite hand, still gripping her right elbow, forced her arm up, popping it back in the socket.

Awen jerked back in horror, her stomach churning at the howl and the grotesque clicking noises the Rookie's bones made. The Rookie, however, only shook herself off, stepping away from the cathedral to swing her restored right arm freely, testing its strength.

Awen could only stare in disbelief. Popping an arm back into its socket was excruciatingly painful, and now the girl was completely unfazed. She looked almost bored.

Awen's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

The girl turned her fuchsia colored eyes on Awen again, angrily. That's when Awen heard the voice--not from the girl, the Gargoyle never spoke. It came seemingly from within Awen's own mind.

'Newa 12.'

Both Awen and the girl gasped, their eyes flying wide, both springing back a pace in shock at the mental intrusion. The girl … Newa 12 … she had a look of abject horror, of disbelief.

Awen tried to catch her breath; the girl was a telepath? Awen had heard a voice, and sensed something, and almost saw something, like Newa's name written inside Awen's own skull.

Sucking in a breath, Awen raised her eyes to Newa 12, who was now hissing in a growing rage.

"Newa," Awen said softly, taking a step to the Gargoyle. "Your name is 'Newa'?"

The Rookie's wings flared open in fury and Awen paused, sizing the girl up. "Can you speak, Newa?"

The creature, Newa 12, glowered at Awen, and, again, Awen had a distinct but still alien feeling. Somehow, Awen knew that the girl was incapable of speech.

And she resented Awen calling her by name.

"Newa 12," Awen tried again. "Please, listen to me; I don't want to fight you. I don't understand what's wrong, but I want to know. Please, let me take you to my clan. I want to help you."

Newa 12's eyes flared a neon blue and she shrieked, springing for Awen's throat in a sudden blur of green skin and white hair. Too stunned to leap back in time, Awen shouted in horror and rage as the Rookie swung her talons at Awen's throat.

"Damn it, stop!" Awen roared as she blocked the strike, pushing Newa's hand away forcefully while blocking a kick with her spiked elbow. "Why are you fighting me?"

The Gargoyle only screamed, her blows and kicks shrieking through the air, battering Awen as she struggled to block and dodge each. She didn't want to hurt the girl, but now Awen was convinced that Newa 12 wanted to tear her to shreds. Her eyes blazing red, Awen feinted a punch at the girl's face while her opposite hand launched forward at the Rookie's collarbone--

Newa 12 blocked both strikes, as fast as Awen had thrown them.

'Bloody hell,' Awen thought, her eyes widening.

Struggling not to pull her punches, Awen fought back, realizing with every missed kick and every painful wound that Newa 12 was extremely well trained. She matched Awen block for block, kick for kick, strike for strike. She was as fast as Awen, faster because Awen couldn't bring herself to hurt the girl. The Rookie knew how to take a punch, take a fall, and spotted holes in Awen's defenses.

At one point Awen couldn't keep up. She couldn't focus, she was too afraid of injuring Newa 12. She lost her focus, and was rewarded with a nerve strike to the top of her left thigh, numbing her entire leg.

"Gahh …! Goddamn perfect!" Awen sprang back, landing awkwardly on her right leg, her tail and wings splayed for balance, her opposite leg folding up underneath her as she tried to put weight on it. It would be another ten seconds or so for the feeling to return fully, but ten seconds was something Awen didn't have.

Awen heard the creature bellow and didn't even stop to see where the Rookie was. Awen immediately dropped to her knees, throwing both arms up over her head to stop Newa's vicious hammer-like swing. Flinging Newa's arm aside, Awen swept her right palm forward, slamming it solidly into the center of the girl's torso, shoving forward forcefully as she reached down and grabbed Newa's right calf, yanking the leg out from under the Rookie.

Newa 12 realized what was happening too late, and, unable to twist away, collided brutally with the ground, the air slammed out of her lungs. Awen was already moving, scraping her spiked knee hard over the Gargoyle's pelvis, spinning around on one knee to slash her tail across Newa's stunned, bloodied face, and landing beside the girl.

Awen lifted her burning knee, intending to slam it down on the girl's chest and pin her long enough to stun her, but Newa 12 shrieked in rage. One hand blindly lashed out, catching the spike atop Awen's leg. Newa 12 shoved Awen away with all the strength she could muster before flinging herself off to the side and springing to her feet.

Tottering slightly, her white hair wild, Newa 12 spun around, a stream of bloody saliva arching from her fangs. Awen fought back a grimace, but remained on her knees; her leg was starting to tingle and burn. The nerve strike was wearing off, but it was still going to take time.

The thick line of blood on the Rookie's cheek nearly brought tears to Awen's eyes, but she somehow found the strength to keep her voice steady. "Newa! Listen to me! We have no reason to fight!"

Newa 12 spat a clot of blood on the ground, mere inches from where Awen knelt. Disturbed, Awen slowly eased herself upright, her left leg wobbling unsteadily beneath her. "I do not wish to hurt you … and I do not wish to be hurt! Newa, please, I beg you … talk to me, give me some message … tell me why are you fighting me?"

Glaring at Awen through narrowed, glowing eyes, Newa 12 staggered back, one scraped, fluttering hand reaching for her stomach

Awen started, biting her lower lip; had she struck too hard? Danna help her if she had hurt the girl …

Though she was still doubled over, Newa wasn't ready to forfeit the fight. She pivoted, one leg snapping out at Awen's ribs.

Awen gasped and turned fast, her arm arching up. Both she and Newa bellowed in pain as Newa 12's foot connected with Awen's spiked elbow, and Awen was dimly aware of how much their voices sounded alike.

In too much pain to defend herself, the creature tried to retreat, not moving fast enough to step out of the way. Awen spun around 180 degrees, her back facing the young Gargoyle. Her still numb foot shot back, hooking the back of Newa 12's thigh and jerking her towards Awen. The girl couldn't give much more than a choke of agony as Awen's balled fist smashed into her groin, doubling the clone over again and giving Awen's spiked elbow easy access to Newa 12's chin.

The green skinned Gargoyle's head snapped back sickeningly, sweat and blood spraying from her white hair. Awen half turned, her eyes glowing red and her face tight as she planted the edges of both rigid hands against the young girl's chest and thrust hard, shoving Newa backwards rapidly.

Newa 12 reeled back, one arm waving wildly as she fought to keep balance. Exhausted, she dropped to one knee, her face slick with perspiration. Thin streams of blood were racing from her nose and trickling from her mouth.

The young Gargoyle stared at Awen from under a mop of snow-white hair, her strange red and black eyes glaring with such hatred it actually made Awen take a step back.

Howling in frustrated fury, Newa 12 slammed a fist into the path, shattering the bricks. Wheeling away from Awen, the girl sprang high up onto the wall of St. John's Cathedral, then launched herself into the air, sweeping away into the night.

"No!" Awen's voice cracked as she cried after the shadow. She ran awkwardly towards the same wall Newa had climbed, her leg only now waking up. As she leapt upwards and dug her talons into the wall, a new voice shouted up at her. Awen glanced down, seeing Father Grady standing there, his eyes wide and face white.

"Your friends are coming now!" he shouted, pointing vaguely up at the sky. "They'll be here in a minute!"

"Tell them to go north!" Awen roared back down at him, and, without giving him further instructions, she sprang into the air and unfurled her wings.

Catching an updraft, Awen soared higher, just barely spotting the rapidly fading shadow over the city. Tears blurred her vision and Awen rapidly wiped them away. She felt like a monster, hurting the girl.

Awen kept telling herself otherwise, but she couldn't shake that insistent feeling deep in her gut.

She was angry that she had hurt her daughter.

************************************************************************

Hudson and Lexington eventually caught up with Awen, now sporting fresh claw marks across her face and looking wildly about her. She had lost Newa 12 in the spires, and had no way of finding her now.

Hudson and Lex ushered Awen back to the castle. She began to tend to her own wounds and irritably waved the clan away, quickly explaining what had happened, that the Trio was right, this new Gargoyle looked just like her, and that it was horribly vicious. Awen insisted that she was all right; she would tend to her wounds before heading out.

Goliath hesitated, looking doubtfully back at her as she perched on the edge of the table in the Great Hall, hissing in pain as an irritatingly helpful Owen examined the cuts across her face.

"We must talk about this, Sister," Goliath said. "We must discuss the … alternatives, if Newa 12 cannot be controlled."

Awen snarled and jerked her head away from Owen, furiously slapping the iodine-soaked cotton balls out of his hand. "Idiot! I'll do this myself!"

Owen wasn't at all troubled, naturally. "The wounds must be cleaned immediately--"

"Not you!" Ducking away from Owen, Awen sprang across the hall, landing smoothly beside Goliath. "I will find her, Goliath."

His eyes narrowing, Goliath shook his head. "No, I won't have you face this alone--"

Awen drove her face towards his, her teeth flashing dully in the lights, stained by her own blood. "I will not have any of you harm her!"

Her ferocity startled Goliath so much he actually stepped back, far out of her reach. For a moment, he could only stare at Awen, aghast.

Awen's shoulders heaved, and her snarl faded. Ashamed, she looked down at her filthy hands, curling and uncurling her fingertips.

"I know you are right, Brother," she whispered, her voice frighteningly ragged. "But I … the way you explained to me what a clone is … doesn't that make Newa my daughter?"

"Sister …."

Awen lifted her glassy eyes to his. "I've wanted a daughter, Goliath, I've never had a child! I--I started to hope … that if I could help her …."

Aching for his sister, Goliath reached for her, folding a confused, trembling Awen in his arms. Setting his chin atop her head, he stroked her hair, whispering, "We will see what we can do."

******

As Goliath organized search parties, Awen wandered the halls of the castle until she found the old storage room that she and her mate had once converted into a chamber. The room had been a gift from Prince Malcolm, Princess Katherine's father, who understood their need for privacy.

No other Gargoyles had their own rooms inside the castle, so the excuse Awen had to make up was that it was a study she had helped set up for the Rookies she helped train.

Which was only partially true: she and Troy did train and teach in their room, but they used it mostly because they were both too paranoid to sleep in stone on the castle walls. They did sleep in stone, once in a while, but usually only when they were severely injured, or even to keep up pretenses. Even then, one of them would usually stay awake to make sure nothing had happened to the other.

Years of living like fugitives had taught them that.

The little chamber was hidden behind the buttery and armory, and a breath from the Rookery. Awen had sometimes found herself down in that glowing cavern, turning the Eggs, listening intently for chirps uttered by the unhatched young.

But there was no Rookery now … yet. Awen trudged past that bricked up archway with a rumbling sigh, winding her way down another corridor and finally coming upon her chambers.

The wooden door's hinges creaked wearily as she stepped inside, her long ears pricking at the echoes in the dark room. Fox had gone to the trouble of cleaning out the chamber and was going to furnish it, but Awen had instead found a new home at the cathedral, away from painful memories. Still, Fox kept it empty, for when Awen felt ready to return.

Closing the door quietly behind her, Awen trudged to the furthest corner of the room, her clawed feet dragging along the floor.

Leaning her back against the cold granite, Awen tilted her head back, staring heavenward. Her tired legs trembled and she slid to the floor, sighing heavily again.

'Troy, my heart,' she thought, closing her eyes. 'If ever there was a time I needed you, it would be now .…'

Exhaustion overtook her, fueled by the medications and her own natural healing cycle. Awen's head dropped slowly towards her chest, and she slept.

When Awen opened her eyes again, the first thing she did was look down at her bloodied claws. She heard herself snarl as she tried to wipe them away on a pant leg. She glanced up, her eyes narrowing at a large, brightly lit building a few blocks away from her. She poised herself on the eve of the roof that she had been standing on, then sprang into the air, swooping to the building, landing on one wall, cautiously peering through a sliding glass window at a man who laid bandaged and handcuffed on a bed.

As she reached to slide the glass window aside, Awen noticed something in the sooty panes. Her heart seized in her chest when she realized that it was not her own reflection in the window; Newa 12's searing eyes were staring back!

Awen awoke with a choking scream, her eyes flying open in horrified realization. Launching herself to her feet, she flung open the chamber door and thundered through the castle, smashing through the doors to Xanatos' office, startling both him and Goliath and Brooklyn, who had gathered to discuss plans.

Awen looked at them, her eyes wild. "I know now! I know why I've been having those nightmares! I know where Newa is!"

************************************************************************

BELLEVUE HOSPITAL CENTER:

The man's name was Izsak Schultheiss, and Elisa was ready to kill him.

She towered over him as he lied in his hospital bed, defiantly turning his face away from her. Matt Bluestone was leaning against one wall, sighing disgustedly as their translator tried his best to coax more information out of Schultheiss.

Frowning, the translator, Nat Epel, glanced up at Elisa and Matt. "I don't think I can get anything else out of him."

Elisa's brow furrowed and she tapped her foot impatiently on the floor. "C'mon, Izsak," she scowled, planting her hands on her hips. "We've been at this all day and I'm getting pretty tired."

Nat translated her words into Hungarian. Izsak Schultheiss snorted, but did not look at them.

Frustrated, Matt left his post by the wall, rounding Schultheiss' hospital bed so the young man could face him. Fairly growling, Schultheiss turned his head away and stared up at the ceiling, jerking on his handcuffs slightly in irritation.

"Okay, Schultie, let's try this again," Matt all but snarled, leaning over the young man. "You wanna play hardball? Fine. But answer me this; why were the soldiers of the late General Kertesz Antal doing fighting on Ninth Avenue in New York City?"

Nat Epel reiterated Matt's words into Hungarian. Hearing the name of his assassinated general, Schultheiss visibly flinched. He muttered something.

"'I don't know what you mean'," Nat translated.

"Oh c'mon," Elisa snorted, "We found you with all of those other thugs, most of whom we've I.D.'d as being cronies from Antal's group."

"And seeing as how you're the only one left alive," Matt continued, "the U.S. government would be really interested in talking with you."

Hearing that, Schultheiss' eyes slid from Matt to Elisa and back, warily.

Matt smirked. "Toldjya I'd play hardball. Of course, our buddies in the FBI might be a little nicer to you if you gave us some information now."

Izsak Schultheiss seemed to sink in his bed. He growled something.

Nat glanced up at Elisa again. "He says he wants a lawyer first."

Elisa sighed wearily. "He waits until after seven hours of questioning to demand a lawyer? Fine. As long as I get the info I need."

"Exactly." As Nat Epel explained to the young soldier what they were going to do, Matt and Elisa headed for the door, both tired and hungry from the long, useless interrogation.

"Who's gonna call Chavez on this one?" Matt asked as they stepped out into the hall. "She's just going to love this …."

Elisa sighed, planting her hands against her spine and hips and leaning back, working the kinks out. "Oh, I will. You got the last one." She turned as the door opened again and Nat stepped out. "Anything?"

Nat shook his head. "No, he's still demanding a lawyer. You guys getting something to eat?"

Elisa nodded, side-stepping an orderly as he made his way to Schultheiss' hospital room. "As soon as Morgan gets back to guard the room …. You guys in the mood for anything particular?"

Both Matt and Nat opened their mouths to reply, and were instantly cut off by the orderly's blood-curdling shriek.

******

Izsak Schultheiss knew he was in a lot of trouble. If it was true what the American detectives said, that all of his comrades were dead, there was no hope of escaping before the authorities came. There was no one there to help him, and he was too injured to flee on his own.

He turned to watch as the translator disappeared out the door. He was going to have to tell them everything now, but would they believe him? Americans were so paranoid about terrorism now, they might think he was part of a larger conspiracy.

But he wasn't; Izsak and the others were all originally members of Generális Kertesz Antal's special police. They had been in training in the mountains of Hungary when word reached them that the generális' special pet, a monstrous bodyguard, had gone insane and killed him, as well as every member in his cabinet, and his family, and anyone else it could find in the compound.

The creature created a swath of murder in its wake, and Izsak and the other men had been dispatched to contain and kill it. They finally caught up with it in America, in New York, and none of their intensive training had saved them.

A small breeze from his open window chilled him, and, annoyed, Izsak turned to glare at it …only to come face-to-face with the thing that had been giving him nightmares.

Newa 12 stood silently before him, fangs bared, eyes glowing blue. She was a sickening sight to behold, and Izsak tried to open his mouth to scream, his voice terrifyingly hoarse and choked. His heart was thundering in his chest, but he couldn't get a breath.

Without a sound, Newa 12 snatched the pillow out from behind his head, whipping it away. Izsak was so stunned that he couldn't cry out, not until the monster had slammed the pillow down firmly on his face, smothering him. Izsak writhed beneath the weight and the darkness, his manacled hands uselessly clawing at the air. He couldn't hear the click of the gun over his own muffled cries, but he knew well in advance what was going to happen.

Newa 12 leveled the silenced pistol at the pillow and pulled the trigger. A soft "whfft!" whispered through the hospital room as the gun discharged, driving the bullet deep into Izsak Schultheiss' brain.

The human's body immediately stopped thrashing, flopping pathetically back to the mattress, the pillow turning red, then dark purple as it absorbed the blood.

That task done, Newa 12 slowly stood erect, watching the blood drip down onto the sheets. With the human dead, she now had more time to kill her mother and Sevarius, and not have to worry about interference from law enforcement.

As Newa turned to go, the door to the hospital room swung open, and a scrub-clad human froze in the doorway, his eyes widening at the sight of the bloody pillow, and at the Gargoyle coiled by the open window.

Newa's eyes narrowed in annoyance; where had this human come from? She thought she had all of the nurses' schedules memorized …

No matter. Newa's arm snapped back up, and she trained the gun on the man's head.

The orderly, a man called Vinnie Gargarino, screamed in terror and reeled backwards, his arms waving wildly as he cried, "Oh no! Oh man!"

Vinnie collided with another human man out in the hallway, someone wearing a trench coat. A third human, a black haired woman, darted into the doorway, reaching under her jacket for her gun, even as she gasped in horror at the armored Gargoyle towering over the corpse.

Newa 12 ground her fangs in fury. She did not have time for this!

Leaping backwards blindly, Newa swung her arm around and fired at the oxygen tanks above Izsak Schultheiss' bed. She flung an arm up over her eyes as the tanks exploded in a roar of flames, propelling her out of the window and into the suddenly startlingly cold night.

*******

"Nice of you to show up," Elisa spat as Goliath dropped to the roof of the hospital. "Late, as always."

Goliath bristled at the remark, but allowed it to slide. "What happened?"

Wincing as the breeze grazed over the burn marks on her face, Elisa shrugged sullenly, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out towards the river, away from Goliath. "A Gargoyle broke into the hospital room of a suspect we had in custody and killed him. Executed him would be a more appropriate term …"

Goliath tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at the scars on Elisa's skins. "Where in the world did you get those burns?"

Elisa shuddered, not because of the wind, but because of the concern in Goliath's voice. It bothered her that, even after all they had gone through and after she had told him she had never wanted to see him again, he still seemed to care about her. "The Gargoyle shot at some oxygen tanks that were in this guy's room, and blew the whole hallways to hell. I was lucky; Matt saw what she was going to do and pushed me to the ground."

"I he all right?"

"Yeah, but a lot of people got hurt … including a friend of mine, who was helping us translate what the perp was saying." Summoning her strength, Elisa glanced up at Goliath through narrowed eyes. "Why did she kill this guy?"

Goliath drew in a deep breath, steadying himself before Elisa's bitter glare. "We have reason to believe that the Gargoyle you saw may be a clone of my sister. It must have been the same one that fought the Trio last night."

Realization struck Elisa. "Yeah, it was them, wasn't it? They were in Hell's Kitchen …"

"Aye. They were patrolling when they saw Newa 12 attacking a large group of armored men."

"For God's sake, what were they doing there?" Elisa growled, turning away from Goliath to pace the roof. "Have you heard of General Kertesz Antal?"

"No."

"He's--well, he was this general in Hungary that was assassinated about a month or so ago. No one knows who did it, or why, and the Hungarian government's not saying anything." Elisa turned around, facing Goliath again. "Most of the dead guys we picked up were I.D.'d as being special soldiers that worked for Antal …. Which begs the question: why would he want his own group of soldiers?"

Goliath frowned. "Perhaps he was planning a coup against his government."

"It's looking more and more like that," Elisa agreed, pacing anxiously again. "I guess they're launching some kind of probe into it now … but that doesn't explain why these idiots were in New York?"

"Actually, I may know why."

Disturbed by the tone of his voice, Elisa turned suspiciously to the giant Gargoyle. "What? Goliath, what do you know?"

Grimacing, Goliath crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the roof beneath his feet. "For weeks Awen had been having very bad dreams about killing humans. The dreams never make sense; they're always fractured, they're never the same, they're never in the same location …"

"What are you talking about?"

Goliath raised his narrowed eyes at her. "Awen believes that her dreams are actually Newa 12's thought and actions."

He didn't elaborate beyond that, and Elisa spent an agonizingly long minute just standing there, waiting for him to continue, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "So, no, wait … you're saying that this thing is, what, telepathic?"

Goliath nodded. "It would seem."

Elisa nearly slapped a hand to her forehead in disbelief, but remember the burns there just in time. "Wh … for crying out loud! That's why you're here? Awen had a dream and you came running? Where's everybody else?"

"The rest of the clan is back at the castle," Goliath answered, unfazed by her disbelief. "As soon as Awen had the vision, I ordered the clan to remain to protect the castle and I set out to find if it had indeed happened." He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I had not expect it to be so bad …"

"Why'd you leave everybody else at the castle? I don't get it."

"Newa 12 has already tried to kill someone to provoke Awen into fighting her. I'm sure Newa will try again, and I don't want the clan scattered across the city should that happen."

Elisa clenched her fists as her sides. "And these Hungarian jerks?"

"Newa 12 may have been owned by this general. Awen's first dream was about a human and his lieutenants being murdered. These men might have been sent to retrieve Newa."

"Uh-huh." Irritated, Elisa heaved a sigh and looked over the landscape, out towards the Aerie Building spearing the dark sky. "This thing is sadistic, Goliath. I want it caught now." Turning away, she started for the access door. "Matt and I will be at the castle as soon as we can finish up here. I'm not going to rest until I see this thing caught for myself."

"Understood." Goliath said nothing more as Elisa disappeared through the door, never glancing back.

************************************************************************

Awen folded her arms and leaned heavily on the parapet before her, her green eyes sweeping the city below. "I don't like this."

Xanatos shook his head in agreement, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "He shouldn't have gone off alone like that."

"I understand why he did it," Awen said, a growl edging into her voice. "But Goliath won't know how to fight Awen 12." Her eyes slid over, glaring at Xanatos. "Who is Sevarius?"

Xanatos' brow furrowed, and he gazed down at the tips of his polished shoes. "He's a … former employee of mine. Years ago, he was highly respected in the field of genetics …" Not hearing an affirmation from Awen, Xanatos finally turned to look at her. "That is, he was a doctor who found flaws in the structure of a body, human or otherwise. He could correct them, alter them, he could give anyone, anything, enhancements or take them away. Then … he found ways to change a person's physiology completely."

Awen's shoulders slumped. "Like the Mutates? He did that, aye?"

"Yes. And Sevarius discovered a way to create clones--copies--of a person in the shortest time possible."

"Thailog."

"Yes. And the others."

Awen's talons grated along the top of the parapet. "You are at fault for this, Xanatos."

Xanatos stared at her, not knowing what to say. Of course she was right …. He sighed and turned back to the city line before them. "I know. I'm trying to help catch him, Awen. He's been threatening me and my family."

"Where is he from?"

"Britain. Supposedly. The details of his early life are sketchy, at best. Ever since I first met him, I've been researching him--"

"Never trusted him, did you Xanatos?"

Xanatos straightened slightly, his eyes narrowing. "I never trusted anyone. For a while."

"What did you find?"

Xanatos shrugged. "I'm fairly certain that his father was a scientist for the Axis Powers during World War 2."

"You mean the Nazis?"

"You know about them?"

Awen shrugged. "I read."

Xanatos nodded. "Ah. Well, I have no concrete proof at the moment, but I think his father was experimenting with genetics for the Nazis, trying to create the perfect Aryan. More importantly, I think he got away before the Soviets took Berlin. I'm guessing here, but either the Soviet Union or the United Kingdom offered the man amnesty if he agreed to work for them. My money's on the UK."

Awen sighed and pushed away from the parapet. "Then you offered the younger Sevarius what? What did you say that drew him here, that made him work for you? Money?"

Xanatos had to smirk at that. "No man's made of stone, Awen. Of course I offered Sevarius money. I also offered him the finest laboratory equipment, every cutting edge tool and computer he could possibly dream up."

Awen stared at him, her eyes hard and cold. "And a chance to play God with a previously unknown race?"

Xanatos sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. He mustered his courage and turned to face Awen. "Yes. I wanted him to experiment on and clone Gargoyles. I wanted an army. I wanted to sell clones. I wanted to be at the top of the genetics market and I …"

He trailed off.

Awen's hair began to bristle, and she sighed-growled heavily, her eyes falling to the allure walkway. Her tail wisped impatiently behind her as she whispered, "You are a monster, Xanatos. I'll tolerate you for the sake of my brother, but should you ever even consider doing something to hurt my friends, then I promise you--" Here, her eyes flared red with barely contained rage. "--No fate waiting for you in Hell will be worse than what I will do to you."

Xanatos' eyes widened. It wasn't the first time he had been threatened by an angry Gargoyle, but he had no reason to doubt that Awen would not hold true to her word. She was not as forgiving as Goliath was.

It took Xanatos a moment to compose himself. Straightening the lapels of his jacket, he turned and waved to the courtyard below, where the impatient clan waited for Goliath to return. "Your clan is safe here, Awen. My security system is top of the line. Even Oberon can't get inside."

"Small comfort, that."

"Trust me Awen. The computers have every one of the clan recognized. They won't let any unfamiliar Gargoyle enter without our permission."

The words had hardly left his mouth when they heard a roar carried over the wind. Surprised, both Xanatos and Awen turned, eyes widening as a rapidly approaching Goliath pointed to the sky above them and bellowed, "Run!"

Gasping, both Awen and Xanatos looked up. High above them, the minute form of Newa 12 circled, the glow from the laser cannon on her shoulder growing brighter as she prepared to fire.

"Get out of the way!" Xanatos shouted, turning to leap to the courtyard below.

The shrieking howl of the laser cannon was swallowed by the thunder-like cracks of splitting granite. Smoke and clouds of dust billowed up into Xanatos' face, grating his eyes and rushing into his lungs. He felt the allure walkway beneath his feet disintegrating, turning to rubble under him.

Xanatos gasped, feeling grit stick to the back of his throat. He felt himself falling, sliding rapidly downward, away from the courtyard, towards the glittering city streets below the castle.

Xanatos didn't even have time to clear his eyes before he was jerked to a halt, dangling over the eviscerated wall, cold wind buffeting him like a pendulum.

Shocked, Xanatos craned his neck back, shaking stone dust from his once immaculate hair into his eyes. There, with one hand barely gnarled in the collar of his jacket, her other hand buried in the remains of the wall, and both clawed feet braced against either edge of the crater, Awen snarled down at him.

"Don't ask me why I saved you," she hissed, her voice ragged and her eyes wide as she frantically scanned the gutted wall.

Despite the fact that he was seconds away from an impromptu lesson in parachute-free skydiving, Xanatos managed a smirk. "You'd be lost without me."

"Shut up." One tapered ear pricking to the side, Awen strained to look back over her shoulder. "Oh hell …."

Xanatos swore brilliantly as Awen heaved him up, swinging him like a rag doll up over her head, and launching him back over the courtyard wall.

City lights and castle stone blurred wildly before Xanatos' eyes before came to a second painfully abrupt stop in midair.

"Getting tired of this, Goliath," Xanatos grated, his eyes squeezed shut, too dizzy to risk glaring up at his rescuer.

Goliath snorted, but Xanatos could hear him biting back a smile. "I could just let you drop."

"Just put me down before that psychopath destroys my building!" Xanatos roared, stabbing a finger at the shadowy blur of Newa 12, sweeping closer to the crumbling walls.

****************

"Newa, don't--!" Awen cried, though she knew it would prove fruitless anyways. Her eyes widened as Newa 12 arrowed towards her, raising the laser cannon again.

Not stopping to think about it, Awen reflexively swung her free right hand out, snagging a chunk of granite and concrete with her claws. She swung away from the crevice where she had been balanced, rolling over onto the untouched section of castle wall, crying out in shock and agony as her former perch exploded, showering her in debris and screaming through her ears.

Shrieking in frustration, Newa 12 pulled the trigger of the laser cannon, not waiting for it to properly recharge. Red-hot blasts of light ripped into the castle, leaving a pocked trail of holes as Awen madly scrambled out of the way, rolling along the rough stone.

Unable to recharge, the power core of the cannon whined obnoxiously and began to steam. Newa 12 jerked her head away from the gun in disbelief, hammering the trigger for a response. The cannon coughed once, but did not release even a weak bolt.

"Rargh!" In wrath, Newa 12 tore the cannon away from her shoulder and flung it at the wide-eyed Awen, narrowly missing the Gargoyle's long head spikes.

Awen jolted as the dead laser cannon shattered against the stone above her head, the pieces raining thousands of feet to the ground. She ducked, drawing in a sharp breath as a chunk of the cannon glanced her shoulder and continued to fall.

Distracted by the falling cannon, Awen didn't see the maniacal clone rushing towards her, claws outstretched for Awen's exposed ribs.

"Olph--!" both Awen and Newa 12 cried unanimously, their voices one. Awen felt her own claws being painfully wrenched out of the castle wall as Newa 12 slammed into her, wrapping her arms around Awen's waist and pulling the elder Gargoyle away from the castle.

Awen heard voices crying her name, but clouds were rapidly swallowing up the castle, and she couldn't see if any of the clan were leaping after her. The air around her grew bright as she and Newa 12 tumbled towards the city.

Snarling, Awen drove a spiked elbow back, smashing it into the padding over Newa 12's ribcage. The clone grunted, then hissed in hatred, raising one gauntleted hand. Tightening her fist, a serrated blade abruptly sprang out of the back of the glove.

Awen's hand reflexively shot out, clapping down on Newa 12's wrist as the clone angled the dagger at Awen's throat. They snarled, their faces reflections of one another.

They grappled for the blade, tails lashing wildly and wings flapping desperately as they fought to maintain altitude.

In one mirrored movement, they each raised their right leg and snapped their foot out, driving it deep into the other's gut. Both Gargoyles doubled over, both grunting, stunned, arms wrapped around their stomachs.

Awen rolled with the impact, flipping around in midair and striking the side of the Aerie skyscraper with both braced feet. She launched herself off like a rocket, hissing as a snarling Newa 12 melted into the low hanging clouds.

Awen angled her wings and swept higher, above the clouds. It was an obvious trap, but the blatancy of it disturbed Awen; why would Newa 12 make such a show of disappearing? Awen knew that the clone was not finished yet, so why would she pretend to leave? The clone knew Awen wouldn't be that stupid.

Unless ….

"Awen!"

It was exactly the voice Awen did not want to hear. Gasping, she reeled around, shaking her head wildly as Angela, Goliath, and Brooklyn lanced towards her, with Angela far in the lead. "No, Angela! Go back, it's--!"

"Sssrraahh!" Newa 12 bulleted out of the cloud cover just beneath Angela, her dagger arm drawn back and aimed for Angela's stomach.

It was a ploy, Awen knew. Newa 12 was only attacking Angela to draw Awen back into a fight. But Awen knew how Newa 12 thought, and clone would not care if she gutted Angela in mid-flight, whether Awen attacked or not.

And both Awen and Newa 12 knew that Awen wouldn't hesitate to save her niece.

"No!" Awen blasted forward, turning one shoulder to take the blade of the dagger, her opposite hand slammed against Angela's chest, shoving her away with all of the strength Awen could muster.

Newa 12 shrieked in triumph as her dagger arched downward, glancing off the top of Awen's shoulder and slicing an arch down along her back, parallel to her left wing.

Awen howled in pain as Newa 12 drove the dagger down deeper, slicing into the muscles that anchored her wing to her back. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Awen twisted around in the clone's grip and viciously backhanded the younger Gargoyle.

Newa 12 yowled, her hand snapping back violently, a mist of blood spraying form her mouth. Furiously, she kicked out, her booted foot connecting with Awen's ribs, snapping her out of the air.

Awen slammed into the roof of a neighboring office building before she even realized she had been kicked. Air rushed out of her body in a shriek, and Awen's entire body arched in pain, unable to breathe.

Above her, Awen could make out the growing shapes of several flying Gargoyles, swooping and darting around one figure in the center, Newa 12. A distant voice in Awen's head groaned; the Rookies were being pummeled … they hadn't covered aerial combat yet ….

Snarling in mounting impatience, Newa 12 slammed to the roof of the office building, holding Goliath's badly twisted wrist in one hand. Goliath roared in shock and agony as Newa 12 twisted his hand, pulling him off balance and flinging him easily aside.

"A-Newa--!" Awen rasped, her voice constricted by the pressure in her chest. She scrambled to get her feet beneath her, numb and clumsy. Her eyes widened in terror as her daughter tore across the roof towards her, shrieking ….

Newa 12's victorious scream was choked off. The clone tripped, staggered, falling heavily to her knees, her hands flying towards her stomach and chest, her glowing blue eyes wide, seemingly fearful.

The city seemed to fall silent as Newa's body snapped forward, then arched wildly back. Her muscles contorted, rippling bizarrely. Huge veins bulged beneath her skin, riddling her face.

Awen recoiled in horror as her clone, her daughter, screamed torturously. Awen was frozen in place, unable to bring herself to reach for her daughter as Newa 12 began to convulse viciously, blood foaming at her mouth, running from her nose, eyes, and ears, and even from beneath her claws.

Newa 12 was bent backwards, nearly in half, her arms twisted at unnatural angles, her wings and tail lashing uncontrollably.

Newa 12 was screaming. Screaming in pain. Screaming in terror. The sound was inhuman, seemingly demonic, a sound that freezes the blood and haunts nightmares for decades.

The screaming ended abruptly as the clone's obliterated body was wracked with wild seizures, one right after another. Newa 12's virgin white hair was flung into a tangled cloud around her face, soaking up blood.

Slowly, the convulsions began to fade, leaving a broken husk curled on the rooftop.

Acid burned in her throat as Awen regained the strength to move, skidding over crumbling drywall, clawing her way wildly to Newa 12's side.

Awen didn't hesitate to lift the heavy body into her arms. She pushed the knotted, matted hair away from the girl's face, smoothing it down, wiping blood and vomit away from the slack mouth. She was startled by how blisteringly hot the body was.

Newa 12's eyes no longer glowed, the deep pink irises staring out at nothing, but still retaining the horror she felt as she died.

The eyes broke Awen's heart. She felt a sob rising in her chest as she gently closed her daughter's eyes and mouth, carefully tilting the corpse's head so it rested against Awen's bloodied shoulder.

Awen cradled the body of her dead daughter, unconsciously rocking back and forth, staring down at the office building's roof. She saw the shadows of Goliath and Angela as they slowly inched up to her, almost afraid to approach the body.

"A-Awen?" Angela whispered. Her voice cracked. "Aunt …?"

Blinking slowly, Awen raised her eyes to Goliath. "She's dead," she said, her voice soft, confused.

Goliath was staring down at Awen with wide eyes, not understanding what he was seeing. "Sister, are you all right? Were you hurt?"

"No," Awen murmured, even as her left wing hung limply across her torn back. Her lower lip trembled as she looked back down to the still Newa 12. "She's dead."

"I think she's in shock," Lexington said, uneasily creeping up to Awen's side. "Hey, Awen?"

"She's so cold." A lump grew in Awen's throat as she tried to smooth her clone daughter's matted hair. "Gods, she looks just like me …."

Wincing, Lexington glanced uncertainly at Goliath. Goliath set his jaw and gave Lexington an encouraging nod.

Drawing in a ragged breath, Lex slowly reached out, carefully taking Newa 12's stiff left hand into his own.

Gasping, Awen jerked the body away from Lexington. "What are you doing?!"

Startled, Lexington sprang back like a frightened cat. "Awen, I was--"

"What was he going to do?" Awen cried, leaping to her feet, the dead Newa 12 still clutched to her chest like an infant. "Goliath, what was he doing?"

Goliath held up a hand. "Sister, take ease," he said softly, his voice soothing despite the lightning-like pain in his wrist. "Lexington was not going to harm Newa."

Swallowing hard, Awen's eyes darted back to Lexington, now flanked by a bloodied Broadway and Brooklyn. "W-what was he reaching for?"

"There is something on Newa's wrist." Slowly, Goliath stepped towards Awen, a sad, gentle smile on his face. He tentatively reached out with his good hand, grasping Awen's shoulder. She did not shy away. "It is an identification bracelet. Lexington will be able to extract information from it, and we will find the people responsible for …."

Goliath's eyes fell to the dead Newa 12. A flash of pain and memory swept through his face. "For Newa 12's mistreatment."

Her eyes glassy, Awen stared at Goliath wordlessly, nodding slowly as he reached for Newa 12's wrist, snapping the lock on the bracelet. Without taking his eyes off of Awen, Goliath handed the bracelet back to Lexington. "Sister, let me take Newa 12. You're so tired."

"No!" Her right wing instinctively wrapping around the corpse, Awen backed away from the clan. "No, I will attend to Newa. I am her mo--"

The word died on Awen's lips, and, confused, she looked back into the identical face propped against her shoulder. "I am her … mother. I am Newa's mother, she is my daughter. I will attend to my child."

The familiar whirl of jet engines overhead drew the clan's attention to the sky. They squinted their eyes against the onslaught of wind and dust as an armored Xanatos and two of his menacing Steel Clan robots touched down on the roof.

"Better late than never," Broadway spat.

Xanatos' emotionless helmet turned to regard Broadway, and the man was still somehow able to project his irritated glare at the rotund Gargoyle. "I would have been here sooner, if dear Detective Maza hadn't arrived in the castle …."

"What?" Goliath spun around, his eyes widening. "Elisa is here?"

Xanatos nodded. "She and Bluestone responded to the 911 call at Saint John's Cathedral. Father Grady explained everything." Xanatos peered around Goliath. "Where's the clone?"

Goliath sighed heavily, a weight seeming to settle on his shoulders. "Dead," he replied, turning to face Awen again. "I don't understand what happened, but …."

The words died on Goliath's lips as his eyes focused on the spot where Awen should have been standing, protectively clutching the body of her dead clone daughter. Now only dust and old leaves swirled in the empty air.

Brooklyn swore. "Where'd she go?"

Behind his mask, Xanatos snorted, the sound loud and hollow. "Awen does have that annoying habit of disappearing into thin air, doesn't she?"

************************************************************************

" … And we offer a prayer of thanksgiving, that the soul of Ms. Galloway's daughter is at peace …."

Father Grady's voice echoed through the cavernous cathedral, swirling through the air on clouds of smoky incense.

Far at the end of the church, kneeling in the last pew she could slip into, Elisa Maza sighed heavily, and lowered her head to the back of the polished wood bench before her. Her eyes were burning, and she suspected that it wasn't from the incense.

Elisa had gotten to the Aerie Tower just as Xanatos was suiting up, two sleek Steel Clan warriors striding up to stand by his side. Elisa had raced after the billionaire, all but hanging off of his gauntleted arm as she screamed for his attention, demanding to know what was going on.

As soon as Xanatos said that Newa 12 had attacked the castle, Elisa let him go. She had stood there in the courtyard as he and the robots flew away, her heart pounding in her chest, an irrational fear building her gut. What was she so afraid of? That Newa 12 would hurt the Gargoyles? Elisa quickly dismissed the idea.

It was about fifteen minutes or so before the clan returned, looking the worse for wear. Elisa swallowed back her horror at seeing Goliath's wrist, twisted out of joint. She stood there in sickened silence, watching the clan mutely march past her.

Goliath gave her a barely passing glance. "Newa 12 is dead."

He said no more, and shock and anger rattled through Elisa. She was forced to wait until nearly sunrise before she could get the full story from Xanatos.

Elisa spent the next few days in a chill of despair. Her attitude at work soon earned her a warning from Capt. Chavez, who threatened to send Elisa to a psychiatrist if she didn't break out of her depression soon.

Elisa told Father Grady the morning following Newa 12's death. She found the priest waiting anxiously in his office, the bruises and scrape on his face standing out bleakly against his paled skin. He sank into a chair, his eyes wide with horror, as Elisa repeated the story she heard from Xanatos.

Grady cupped his head in his hand. "Dear God …. And no one knows where Awen is?"

Elisa shook her head. "No," she said softly.

"I hope she's okay!" Grady said shakily, slowly rising halfway out of his chair, only to sink back into it again. "I didn't know the whole story, she hadn't told me …. I can't help but wonder what she's going through?"

Saying goodbye to the shaken priest, Elisa let herself out of the cathedral, making it halfway down the steps before she had to sit down and sob.

By Saturday night, Elisa had found the pull of the cathedral too irresistible, and went to mass. She couldn't remember the last time she had gone to church.

As soon as mass ended, Elisa shot out the door, no longer feeling welcomed. She hurried down the steps, not immediately noticing her pager buzzing in her bag.

Pausing on the last step, Elisa pulled the pager out of its side pocket, recognizing Matt's phone number.

The message confirmed the suspicion that had been growing in Elisa ever since she learned that Newa 12 was a clone.

"SEVARIUS".

************************************************************************

The last of his clothing haphazardly packed, Anton Sevarius began to rapidly shove his disks and data folders into a duffel bag. Everything else would have to be left behind; furniture, the computers, even the food that was in his kitchen. He didn't have time for that. He knew that now the police had gotten a hold of the clone bracelet, they would come immediately to his home.

All of his experiments were dead and destroyed, but he had the information, the data safely tucked into--

"Not leaving just yet, are you?"

A scream caught in Sevarius' voice as he wheeled around, the duffel bag flying from his hands and bouncing off a nearby computer.

Sevarius hadn't bothered to turn on many of the lights in the lab as he scrambled to empty his cabinets. He came to regret that decision as a pair of flaring red eyes slowly inched towards him.

Sevarius gritted his teeth against the terror that churned in his gut. "What do you think you're going to do?" he shot at the looming shadow approaching him, feeling sweat dripping down his forehead. "You and the other over glorified rainspouts are already in major trouble with the police. If you hurt me, that'll only--"

"I'm not a Gargoyle."

Sevarius felt his jaw fall open as the figure glided smoothly into the circle of lamplight. The man was huge, topping at eight feet, his skin vampire white, black hair cropped close to his head, eyes a bold gleaming red. A small red diamond was settled between his eyes.

He was dressed in some kind of deep blue armor, and his cape hung in strips of deep blue and red. He was barrel chested, almost unable to fold his massive arms before him.

And when he smiled, every tooth was pointed like a viper's.

"I am called Mr. Sinister," the man stated, chuckling at Sevarius' horrified stare. "I am a scientist, like yourself. I strive to create more perfect beings … for, as we both know, this world is filled with so many failures."

Sevarius offered a weak smile at that. "I--I agree …."

"I have been following your career for some time, Anton." Smiling, Mr. Sinister glanced about the darkened lab. "You have made remarkable advancements in the field of genetics. I wonder if I could offer you a position …?"

That got Sevarius' attention. He straightened, arching one eyebrow suspiciously. "Such as …?"

A laugh rumbled deep in Sinister's chest as he turned to regard Sevarius once more. "My field is mutation. I wish to learn more, understand more …. I especially want to improve upon the design of mutants in the world. I theorize that, with your understanding of Gargoyle DNA, we be able to create a creature unlike the world has ever seen.

"Of course--" Here, Mr. Sinister swept an arm out, encompassing the lab around them. "--Your new laboratory would be much more accommodating. You would have many talented scientists in your sway …. That is, if you're interested."

Sevarius blinked, then smiled wickedly. "I'm listening ….?"

THE END