Well I'll start with the obvious. I honestly don't own Gargoyles. Greg Weisman should, disney holds the rights to it, and yes i'm turning the Time Dancer into a shameless parody of another great time traveller.

The painter rubbed sweat from his brow, as he continued chiselling the demonic form out of stone. The work was physically demanding yet he couldn't resist the urge to open a bottle of Jack Daniels and take a swig. Knowing full well it would diminish his endurance for the work.

It was funny for the life of him he couldn't work out who his client was. If it was his in-law then some of the statues would have been placed around castle Wyvern, instead they were all to be distributed around the entire Manhattan Isle, essentially he had produced at least 180 different statues all of them same nine 'creatures'.

The artist wasn't a fool he knew that whoever hired him had an interest in protecting New Yorks gargoyle population and that he was aiding in establishing decoys and possible traps to undermine the Quarrymen. Frankly he was happy to do it for free, to help undermine the efforts of the pathetic excuse of criminals, however if it was his dreaded 'in-law' then he couldn't resist taking a bit of money out of his over-loaded pockets.

Not that he didn't have plenty of time to think about it, his sculpting had kept him busy and in work for the last 18 months seven of those months were before the gargoyles 'blew up' the police station. He was yet to start work on the series he was contracted to produce afterwards by yet another unknown client. This client went to a lot of effort to imitate his hand righting, heck if he didn't receive such a fat deposit in his account he would of believed that it was his drunken self playing a joke.

More or less he was nearly done; he had about three or so statues to go something that a month of flat out work and four-hour sleeps couldn't resolve. Taking a swig again from his bottle he stopped to look again at his handy work.

"It has a very strong resemblance to the real thing Martin! It was such a shame that you became an artist, when with your dedication, attention to detail, vast mind and skilled hands you could have become a doctor." Martin rolled his eyes listening to his uncle's tired old rants.

"Oh please, if you're going to complain about my career path how about I refund you the money for the last three gargoyles!" he turned to his uncle showing his dishevelled hair, wild beard that had grown in the last year or two, accompanied by his wife-beater and sweatpants he hardly looked like the socialite artist, clean-shaven and in a tuxedo that his many photos had of him in front of an award winning work.

"It would only ease my conscience that you weren't using my money to buy demon-drink. How did you garner that it was I who commissioned these pieces?" his Uncle interrogated. Martin lowered himself down to eye-level with the wheelchair bound man.

"Well you just implied that you knew the gargoyles and using my deduction skills from all the articles of them appearing out of nowhere and 'manhandling' 'outstanding citizens' I figured you'd be on good terms, and being the only other money bags who'd adopt such a lucrative project, well hey I figured that you were allies. Correct me if I'm wrong in my large leap of faith…"

"It's a real crime you weren't a doctor heck I would have been happy to have you at Cyberbiotics!" the frail man said suppressing a chuckle.

"I believe you could still be a great asset to the company if you clean up your act and work as hard as you do on your 'art'. Please let go of your fear of failing when great responsibility is on your shoulders I have every confidence you won't let anyone down. Sign up and you would be the CEO. It would be a five year plan. Please consider it I don't have long to live and I'm sure that Vogel will be willing to abdicate head of the company after a few years of you learning the ropes."

"What about my darling cousin, isn't she more business minded and driven? I would have thought you would have wanted little-princess to be able to provide for your Grand-son!" the artist scoffed snidely.

"Oh please, Fox has Xanatos' money, giving her the company would be as good as giving it to her husband, besides you are like me, you wouldn't leave your cousin without a decent share of the family legacy."

Martin Renard stared at the diminished Halcyon. Martin knew the man before him had a high demand for integrity, that was why Martin had a hard time comprehending why his uncle would desire a artistic drunk as a part of his company, regardless of family ties.

"There is a lot more that I need to explain but it to much to explain here, get cleaned up and I will explain if you visit in a week or two. Please consider this!"

Martin stared for a long time before he answered uncommitted-ly.

"I will think about it, goodbye Uncle Halcyon."

The old man responded and then rolled his way out of the studio.

Martin just stared at the family photo wanting to hate everyone in it for there expectations of him doing great things, the problem was with the possible exception of his cousin they were all good people and his guilt wouldn't allow it. Desperately he threw his bottle at the ground hoping the sudden and violent shattering would give him piece of mind it did not.

He just stared at the pieces unsure of what he was or becoming, it was true that he aspired to be a doctor and not an artist but in his first year as an intern constant criticism from his supervisors lead him to his career change. Hell if only he could redo his many screw ups in life, he knew that after his spiral he really was never going to be company material.

Martin was brought out of his musing by the feeling of the heat of flame and a strange light, his initial thoughts were to locate the flame and extinguish it knowing that some of the chemicals in his studio were flammable.

Looking up he was met with a floating shield that hovered in mid air. Semi-shocked and semi-amused he mumbled that he should have discarded the hooch several mouthfuls ago. Curiously he reached up to swipe his hand through what he presumed was a hallucination. To his shock he actually connected to it. The shield erupted in a ball of flame that entirely consumed him. His surrounding disappeared and several seconds later he fell, face-first into a metal platform.

Getting up he first noticed a pair of blue talons in front of him getting up he examined the creature in front of him it looked like a blue version of a purple gargoyle he'd seen on the news report confirming there existence. There were other gargoyles and human around him all in unusual clothing, looking the gargoyle in the eye he mumbled to himself.

"I shouldn't have drunken that much…." He then broke off to begin to vomit.