Disclaimer: The characters from Gargoyles belong to neither author and are © Disney and Greg Weisman. Isak Fordel is © EyesLikeSilk. Lee Thal, Michael Rawlins, Malevola, Dr. O'Reilly, Vixey, and Solomon are © Mona.
Note from Mona: This first chapter might not make sense if you go on without reading this notice. My collaborator, EyesLikeSilk, and I had starkly different versions of the Gargoyles characters.
Note from EyesLikeSilk: Might want to go back and reread some works.
Another Note From Mona: Some parts of each universe have been silenced. For example, in Mona's universe, Brooklyn is dating Malevola. In Rhea's universe he's dating Maggie. Since the story takes place in Rhea's universe, Maggie and Brooklyn have no clue who Malevola is, and she can't understand why he doesn't remember her. This story takes place after Forbearance, so the year is 2007. My fanfic characters from my storyline (which is still in about 1997-98) have been aged. Rawlins is twenty-eight in "Enemies Are Closer Than They Appear" and is thirty-eight here, etc. If you want to read "Fetch", read the version on the Gargoyles Fan Website. Some shorter chapters are put together and some typos have been fixed.
To clarify, these are the version of the canons I'll be using in the story. Canon characters omitted are pretty much the same in both universes.
Mona: Broadway, Lexington, Matt, Morgan, and Fox
EyesLikeSilk: Brooklyn, Alex, David, Goliath, Elisa, and Maggie
Enjoy the crossover!New York City. The city that never slept, but Sergeant Michael Rawlins sure wanted some rest. The police officer hadn't even bothered to change out of his uniform. Inserting the passcard into the slot, he opened the door to his apartment and crossed his threshold.
A well-built man was seated on the living room couch. His posture was straight, defiant. Streaks in his gray hair indicated his coiffure had once been black. He was also clothed in a mix of blue, gray, and black armor.
Rawlins drew his service pistol.
The man only smirked.
The smile unnerved the officer. "Stand up, put your hands on your head." The voice cracked, though Michael couldn't figure out why he felt so afraid. Before he knew what he was doing, Rawlins had fired.
The bullet bounced off the figure's chest armor as if it were rubber. Quick as lightning, the man drew a small pistol and shot the cop in the stomach.
Rawlins' hands flew to the wound. The projectile had been small, but the wound was bleeding. "Who are you? What are you doing in my home?"
"I can go wherever I please."
The injured man fell to his knees. "I've been shot before."
"Not like this." The intruder bent to his victim's eye level. "The name Isak Fordel doesn't strike a chord with you?"
"Isak who?" Rawlins gasped out before Fordel kicked him in the side with a steel-toed boot. He could feel his ribs cracking. "Honestly, I have no idea who you are. What have I done to you?"
"That's I-S-A-K. Not the Hebrew spelling. I tend to get irritated when idiots spell my name wrong. Then again, you're already in my bad graces." He pulled a newspaper clipping and showed it to the fallen man. "You wrote this article extolling those monsters. I wanted you to see my point of view. That wasn't an ordinary bullet. It was a SPID."
"A what?"
"A tiny robot that travels through the bloodstream of its victim. It's a modified version of the SPID-47. Once this SPID reaches your brain, it will stop for thirty minutes, then proceed to dig through your gray matter. If you're still alive, that is. To think, Sergeant, if you had kept your nose clean, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Rawlins noticed his dropped service pistol on the floor. Keeping his left hand on his stomach, he reached over with his right arm.
Fordel pushed a switch on his pistol and fired. A five-inch metal stake sliced through the air and impaled Rawlins' right wrist, effectively pinning it to the floor.
The surprised officer let out a cry of pain. His right wrist was immobile, the carpals shattered.
"That, my friend, is a skiver. My associates have been using them in combat against the gargoyle and New Olympian threat. Only their shots are usually aimed at the head or chest."
The officer let out a soft sob. A tear fell from his eye and splashed on the floor. "Walt, teach me how to die."
"Admittedly, I'm more interested in your coworkers," Fordel continued. He leaned closer to Rawlins, admiring the tears streaming down his face. "What? Nothing to say?"
XXX
The medical examiner had seen countless bodies come in. Death was the natural end to life. Rotting flesh? Simply a sign of organic matter returning to the earth.
Once in a while, Dr. O' Reilly had a surprise. He knew many police officers. Most were strictly business. Get the information and go. Michael Rawlins was different – curious and seemingly younger than his thirty-eight years. O' Reilly pulled the sheet over the body.
The door swung open sharply. A raven-haired woman stormed in. "Have you finished the autopsy on Michael Rawlins."
"Just done cataloguing the personal effects," the medical examiner answered quickly. He knew Elisa Maza. Not one you wanted to tick off. And judging from her expression today…well, he didn't want to aggravate her any further.
Matt Bluestone had entered behind Elisa and was reading the autopsy report. "Manner of death is homicide. Cause of death…intercranial bleeding secondary to foreign object. Is that what I think it is?"
O'Reilly handed him a plastic evidence bag containing the SPID-48. "That thing apparently entered through the stomach and ended up in his cerebral cortex. Means it wasn't a random cop slaying."
"Fordel," Elisa guessed. "Has to be."
"Rawlins is a gargoyle lover," recalled Matt. "Remember the train incident eleven years ago? The night after, he sent Margot Yale a bouquet of dead flowers with a note that said 'I told you so, you blockhead.'"
The raven-haired woman studied the body. The skiver was still in Rawlins' wrist, and there was bruising on his back and side. "How could we have not seen this coming?"
"That Fordel would kill a sympathizer that happens to work at our precinct?" Matt suggested. "You're not psychic."
"We should have warned him. Told him to publish his works anonymously. He may have been a self-centered, butt-kissing jerk but he did not deserve this!"
Matt winced at the corpse. "Nobody deserves that."
"You two," interrupted the medical examiner. "You can't say goodbye in an autopsy room."
Elisa pulled the sheet back over the corpse and turned to the personal effects. Pausing a minute to snap on latex gloves, she examined the service pistol and checked the chamber. One bullet missing. "He shot back."
Matt looked at the tray. "His watch is here." Mickey Mouse watch. The glass was smashed. "Only right twice a day now. Must have hit the floor when Rawlins did – hard."
"You say it was Isak Fordel?" O'Reilly asked. "I hate that guy!"
"Because he uses fear and force to get his way?" asked Matt.
"Because he leaves a trail of dead bodies everywhere he goes!" growled the pathologist. "I have enough to do as it is!"
"I know I shouldn't be surprised," Elisa admitted. "I don't know why I am."
"This is a new low for Fordel," quipped Matt. "But you've got to compose yourself before you go to the boss."
"I want this case. I don't care what Chavez says."
"If you go in there like this, she'll refuse. Personal stake and all that."
Elisa took a deep breath. "You're right."
XXX
A picnic in the park, with no one to bother us. Can't get any more romantic than this, Maggie thought.
It's been a long time since I've seen Maggie this happy, Brooklyn said to himself. The human/feline hybrid's hair seemed to glimmer in the moonlight. She's so pretty. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward. His beak locked onto lips…
Or so he thought.
Brooklyn opened his eyes. His blood nearly curdled. Demona was kissing him! Ick! He shoved her away, then realized it wasn't Demona at all. It was a younger gargoyle, about Angela's age. A redhead, wearing a black dress.
Maggie's face was a mixture of disgust and confusion. "Who is this?"
"I have no idea." Brooklyn quickly responded.
"Don't be coy, Brookie," replied the redhaired gargess.
He turned to her. "How do you know my name?"
The girl felt his forehead. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Can't you see I'm on a date?" Brooklyn wrapped his arm around Maggie.
The mysterious female turned to Maggie. "Is that true?"
"How do you know my name?" Maggie asked. "Have we met?"
"It's me. Malevola."
Brooklyn shrugged. "Doesn't ring a bell."
"If this is a joke, it's not funny!" Malevola was pouting.
"It's not a joke!" snapped Brooklyn. "Why did you kiss me?"
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because we've been together for over ten years? And I've never had to get your permission to kiss you."
"But I have never seen you before in my life," protested Brooklyn.
"You're mocking me!" accused Malevola. "When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?" She turned on Maggie. "I'll tell Talon! Don't think I won't!"
Maggie's face crumbled.
"Talon died years ago," Brooklyn explained.
Malevola looked horrified. "That's even worse!" She glared at Maggie. "You're desecrating your boyfriend's memory! Have you no respect for the dead?"
That did it. Maggie shot a pulse of electric energy at the redhead, who staggered back.
Malevola burst into tears. "How dare you!" She backed toward a large tree, then climbed the trunk – using it to glide off into the night. .
Brooklyn turned back to Maggie. "I swear I have never seen that girl before."
Maggie's hands were on her hips. "She ruined the mood, know her or not."
"Yeah. Let's head back to the castle."
XXX
At Castle Wyvern, Alex wandered aimlessly though the halls. Lex was off somewhere. Probably with his girlfriend, thought the eleven year old bitterly. Goliath was around, but Alex wasn't interested in discussing literature. Owen was helping Dad close some business deal somewhere. Alex decided to talk to his mother. Heading to Fox's room, he threw open the door and beheld the most horrible thing he had ever seen. (Including the 15 foot python at the zoo.) "WHAT THE HELL!"
To Be Continued…