Written by The Casket (Smokey B)
DISCLAIMER - All characters from the TV series "Gargoyles" are the property of Disney and Buena Vista. I have no rights to these characters, I admit it, but PLEASE don't sue. ! All characters from TGS are copyright their creators (Ariana, Graeme, Kirin, Usagi, etc), and are used w/o express permission, but are ACCREDITED TO THEIR CREATORS herein this disclaimer, while all original characters are mine. by the way, thanks to you all for the inspiration...
------Prelude------
"Uuhhhh...yeah..."
Justin had no clue what he was doing. In fact, for the past two weeks, his mind had been a blank, filled only briefly with the recurring thoughts of impending death that had plagued him during the entire experience. The shock had remained intact until he had been found by the police, and, although they offered the simple necessities he almost never had access to: food, a bed, and simple indoor plumbing, he remained silent as a mime as to his situation.
Justin was a heroin addict.
"Kid, what you say over the next five days is going to decide whether I should send you to the pen on the narcotics charge, or accept your form for placement into witness protection. The latter won't happen unless you tell me what I want to hear."
Justin slowly turned his head to face the detective. Matt Bluestone was an aging veteran on the NYPD, and he alone was cited for the highest amount of successful interrogations the force had seen in recent years. Yet, Justin posed a challenge. He watched as Justin ran a hand through his dark brown hair, which nearly covered his eyes. Matt, along with the rest of the department, knew Justin's physical description by heart. "Camaras, Justin. Age 16. Male, height 6' 0'', weight 181 lbs. Brown hair, Brown eyes, prefers brown clothes. Physical ID includes track marks on his right arm due to intravenous heroin use. Is a known heroin addict, and is subject to violence upon approach." Matt closed the folder, and cleared his throat after he spoke. Justin continued to stare, absent-mindedly tapping his feet against the floor. "What is it you want me to say, dude" he questioned. Matt leaned in as if to whisper in Justin's ear.
"Everything."
Justin sat back in his chair, and put both legs on the desk, "You ain't going home early tonight." He warned, staring the detective straight in the eyes, looking for a tell. Matt chuckled, and leaned back in his own seat as well. "I'll make the coffee."
Justin rolled up his right sleeve, "Not so fast. What was our deal?" he asked, suddenly still as a statue. Matt gave a quick glance to the two-way mirror at his right, and nodded. There was a slight beep as the room's intercom system came on.
"Give him his candy, Bluestone." came the distorted voice of DEA Agent Sally Nerveza. Hesitantly, Matt reached into his inner coat pocket, and came out with a syringe. Clearly marked was 10ccs of heroin solution. He handed the syringe to Justin, who administered it to his jugular neck vein single-handedly, groaning as it immediately took effect. Matt watched all of this, nodding his head as he tried to ignore the fact that he had just given someone a drug, instead, focusing on the seriousness of the situation at hand, the same situation which required him to make any deal possible to obtain information.
"Like I said..."
Matt's attention went to Justin as he stuck a cigarette into his mouth and lit it.
"You ain't going home early tonight..."
---------------- Two weeks before, Central Park, Manhattan ----------------
"So what's going on?"
Justin shook his head and shrugged. He took a hit from the joint he held between his fingers, before passing it along to his accomplice. "Trying to make a living." he stated, getting comfortable on the park bench. His friend passed the joint back.
"When you gonna kick the smack, Jus?"
Justin eyed his friend in confusion.
"I don't know."
The last few times Justin had tried to go clean of heroin, he had ended up in the ER with severe hypothermia and other "opiate withdrawal symptoms". Since the last time, Justin had made it clear that he would not take his usage any further, but instead, maintain the dosage that would keep him from suffering withdrawal.
Justin took his two hits, then watched as his friend took his. "Clay, I got to say something to you, dude..." Justin said, getting Clay's attention.
"When was the last time you got attacked by a gargoyle-hater?"
Clay chuckled, and shrugged in reply. "Don't know. It's been so many damn times I don't count anymore." Clay had met Justin in middle school, And had stuck by his side until they had both reached the eleventh grade in high school. He was a dark-blue skinned, beaked gargoyle, whom Justin seriously compared to the Gargoyle assassin at the top of the FBI's most-wanted gargoyles list: Orion Haze. Both of them had the same tint of skin color, along with their ridged beaks, and jet black hair. Clay had even thought there was some family resemblence. Unbeknownst to the two friends, Clay had been correct.
"So how much did we net in Today?" asked Clay, standing to stretch his wings. Justin grunted, and passed Clay the joint, before digging around in his pockets. "Let's see..."
Clay continued to smoke the joint while watching Justin count out the money.
"Two-thousand straight. That's a 'G' each."
Clay nodded in response, and passed the joint back. "You know..." he began. "You really oughta concentrate on SELLING that 'H' and not DOING it. I mean, shit's bad enough as it is. The difference is you KNOW you're addicted to the shit." Justin Rolled up Clay's share of the day's dealing profits, and handed it to him. "Yeah I know." He replied. "Kinda like you and that coke, right?" Clay was taken aback.
"Hey now, COKE is an entirely different thing, man." Clay remarked, pocketing the money and pulling out a silver tube. He unscrewed the top of it, and tipped it slightly over the side of his thumb. a small bit of white powder landed on it, which Clay snorted up almost immediately, letting out a slight moan as the euphoria hit him.
"What a rush, huh?" Justin commented. Clay nodded, and offered the tube to him. "Want some?" Justin thought about it for a second, and decided "Ah what the hell. Nobody buys this early anyways."
Clay chuckled, and poured out some powder into Justin's inch-long right pinkie nail. Justin cleared his nostrils, and snorted it all up in one go. He sat back, sighing as the feeling of euphoria washed over him as well. Still, to him, NOTHING compared to heroin. It was his 'love drug', as Clay liked to put it. Clay considered himself a philosopher of sorts. Justin had to agree with him. Clay himself was the gargoyle version of the 1960's 'hippie'. He experimented with many drugs, but considered his favorites to be cocaine and a concoction of his own called 'Claymore'. He also wore what would be considered 'neo-hippie' clothes: A vanilla tank-top, baggy khakis, and a solid gold 'peace' pendant around his neck. The only difference was peace itself. Clay didn't care for it one bit. The moment anything started to jump off, he was the first to throw a punch, and, judging by the strength of said punch, the last.
"So what do we do now? The sun rises in about three hours." said Justin, as he put the joint out, and pocketed the roach for a later occasion. Clay scratched the back of his head in thought. Just then, Justin lit up. "I know. Let's go over to the Lay-Back. I heard some shit went down the other night. And you know how it is..."
Clay nodded as he removed a single Newport from a full pack, and stuck it in his beak. "Yeah, I know. Every little bit of info helps out here."
Justin nodded in agreement, and they started towards the bus stop at the entrance to Central park. Halfway to the stop, Clay noticed a shift in the activity of the place. "Hold up, man." He called out. Justin came to a complete stop, and turned to face him. Clay stood in pure silence for a moment, when, all of a sudden, fear crept over his face.
"RUN! FUCKING RUN!"
They took off towards the entrance as the gunshots started. Five men leapt from their hiding places, armed with pistols and Machine guns, and proceeded to chase them. Clay turned his head back as he ran, and his vision was immediately filled with people. At his current speed, all he could notice was that they all bore a similar insignia: a gold hammer surrounded by a ring. He let out a panicked yelp as he tried his best to keep up with Justin, who was some distance ahead. "Haters!" Clay cried at the top of his lungs. "We're being chased by fucking haters!"
That alone was enough to get Justin to stop. Clay watched as his friend whirled around, pistol in each hand, ready for some action. Seeing this, he drew his own guns as well. They took aim and waited as the group of men continued to ease their way towards them. The men stopped when they were face-to-face.
"What the fuck do you want!" asked Justin, his fingers already putting pressure on the triggers. "We want the beast!" yelled one of the men in return. "He's an ABOMINATION!" cried out another. Both sides continued to argue and threaten one another, with neither showing signs of giving in. "Do you know who you're FUCKING with!" screamed Justin, in a final bid to end the standoff. "You touch him, and I'll rip your fucking balls off and hand them to you!"
At that moment, one of the men in the back let out a shrill scream as he was yanked from his feet by an unknown source. The group, along with Justin and Clay, checked their surroundings for the intruder. Not two seconds after, the man fell from the sky, landing exactly between the two groups. Both sides let out screams as they saw the body.
It had no head.
"Holy shit! What the hell's going on!" Clay cried, unsure whether to stand his ground or start running. His concerns were answered moments later, as another man was pulled into the darkness by the unknown assailant. One-by-one, the men vanished, until only one remained standing. The lone survivor shook in fear, low whimpers his only form of speech. Justin tapped Clay on the shoulder, and pointed. Clay saw what he meant, and they both began to back away. Out of the darkness, a long, spade-tipped tail slithered its way around the man's neck, turning his whimpers into full-blown screams as he tried to resist. The mystery killer suddenly jerked his tail to the side, snapping the man's neck in one go. Exchanging surprised glances, the two friends took steady aim into the darkness, waiting for a movement. The tail slid back towards its owner, and was followed out into the light by a taloned foot, along with the rest of the gargoyle's body. Justin let out a gasp as he got a look at the creature's face, recognizing him almost immediately.
"No fucking way... Orion Haze..."
The deep blue-skinned gargoyle let out a deep laugh, as he stumbled forward. The two companions could tell that he was more than obviously drunk. Justin holstered his guns, and began to inch closer. He couldn't believe his eyes. "That..." the gargoyle slurred in his deep, booming voice. "Is the name given to me by the...press..." He let out a grunt as he stumbled forward, tripping over his own tail. He hit the ground hard on his back, groaning in pain. Clay eyed Justin with a confused look, to which Justin only replied, "Help me out, dude. He's fucked up."
Grunting under the weight of the older gargoyle, the two teens hoisted him onto their backs, and began the long, slow journey towards the Lay-Back.
---------------- PRESENT DAY, NYPD INTERROGATION ROOM ----------------
"So that's when it all started?"
Justin nodded, and put out his cigarette, as he watched Detective Bluestone take notes. The detective sighed, and closed the folder he had been writing in.
"You know that if you give him up right now, we can make all of this go away."
Justin nodded. He understood. They had offered him a deal that could get him and Clay completely free of charges. The only catch was turning in The FBI's most-wanted assassin. After the past few weeks, Justin had come to accept his fate. He cleared his throat to speak.
"You know I can't do that. But it's more than you think, it's not just pressure."
Matt scoffed, and reopened the folder. "Then tell me what it IS. I want to know exactly what he told you to buy your silence."
Justin shook his head in reply. "That's my personal life. I'm not getting into that shit."
Matt flipped over a page.
"So tell me what happened after you found him."
Justin sat back in his chair, and cracked his neck and knuckles. "I think we're done for today, right?"
Matt checked his watch, and noted that it was3:45 A.M."Fine, I'll let you go back to your cell..."
"... But I want to continue this discussion tomorrow."
---------- End of Chapter One ----------
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