Gargoyles, co-created by Greg Weisman, is the property of the Walt Disney Company.
Special thanks, as always, to Gryphinwrym7, Masterdramon, GregX and BookwyrmPendragon13 for providing beta-reading and feedback.
Nightstone Unlimited, Paris Office, May 20th, 1999 A.D.
Dr. Anton Sevarius, self-professed greatest geneticist on the planet, puttered casually about the subterranean laboratory. Most of his work was mere routine this late into the project, making simple adjustments to the tank's life support settings and taking notes.
Frankly, Sevarius found it dull busy work. He would have long ago passed the project onto some lab-tech, but the client had insisted on absolute confidentiality. Which meant keeping 'in the know' staff to a bare minimum.
In the cylindrical glass tank looming before Sevarius, a fully grown male human clone floated serenely in the jelly-like green fluid. Its skin and hair were both a pale, almost translucent white. Its reddish-pink eyes occasionally twitched randomly under drooping lids.
"They grow up so fast," Sevarius beamed proudly.
The doctor's introspection was broken by the sound of the heavy steel doors on the laboratory's hidden elevator drawing back.
Sevarius turned to be greeted by the sight of a haggard looking man in a black overcoat, leaning upon a slim black cane topped by a silver serpent head. At his side stood a young olive-skinned blond-haired girl with a dark grey duffle-bag slung over her shoulders.
"Ah, your Lordship," Sevarius grinned. "Come to inspect your new... housing?"
"Actually, I was hoping to take it for a test drive tonight, Doctor," FitzGerald rasped, leaning heavily on his cane. "Though frankly, I'm still not sold on the color."
"An unavoidable side-effect of the accelerated maturation process, I'm afraid," Sevarius explained. "But I assure your Lordship that beyond the cosmetic oddity, the clone is in perfect health... more than perfect, in fact. I'd love to know where your Lordship acquired that sample. It seems almost super-human."
"Trade secret, Doctor," spoke FitzGerald in a wheezing chuckle. "Geraldine, make preparations for the transference."
"Yes, father," the girl nodded, retrieving five green candles from her duffle-bag and setting them up in an equidistant circle around the elder FitzGerald and the cloning tank. They filled the laboratory with thick pungent smoke as she began lighting them with ice blue flames.
"As much as I appreciate good drama, is all this really necessary?" Sevarius drawled.
"Not strictly," FitzGerald admitted. "But it never hurts to set the proper mood."
"All is ready, father," the girl spoke, lighting the final candle.
"Thank you, Geraldine." FitzGerald's eyes locked upon the clone floating insensate in the tank. He took one last rattling breath before beginning a low chant...
"Lig ár n-anamacha a mhalartú!" he intoned before collapsing unconscious to the floor.
Geraldine immediately dashed to catch her father's falling body as his ancient spirit rose into the air, like a blot of oil foating in water. She sensed, rather than saw, his presence slither across the room to enter the clone tank.
A moment later, the human form within began tossing and turning amid the green fluid as though in the throes of nightmare.
"Subject's EEG readings are violently erratic," Sevarius announced.
"Do something!" Geraldine shouted.
"I'm open to suggestions?" Sevarius snapped.
Almost as suddenly as it begun, the clone's twitching ceased as it returned to placid rest.
At the very same instant, FitzGerald's body jumped back to life as he broke down into a violent coughing fit. A few drops of blood staining the white tiles beneath him.
"Father!? Are you..." Geraldine began before being cut off.
"Away from me, girl! I don't need coddling!" he wheezed before rounding on Sevarius. "Doctor... you said the thing would be mindless?"
"Well, I never said that exactly," Sevarius spoke. "The clone still possesses some rudimentary level of consciousness. Though without subliminal programming it is rather... unformed."
"Soul transference requires voluntary participation, Doctor. Without that, the homunculus is worthless to me," FitzGerald rasped, staggering to his feet. "Kill it."
"Are you certain, your Lordship?" Sevarius asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Absolutely,"
"Very well then," Sevarius shrugged, maximizing a dial on the console.
Instantly, the clone began convulsing violently in the tank, limbs contorting at unnatural angles.
"He's in pain," Geraldine murmured.
"Merely an epileptiform response to raising the sevoflurane dosage, my dear. It will all be over in a..." Sevarius fell silent as his gaze turned to the tank.
The clone's muscles bulged and swelled as the surrounding fluid began to bubble violently. A single hairline fracture was already creeping along the surface of the glass.
"Doctor...?" FitzGerald inquired, only a hint of warning in his voice.
"I don't understand!" Sevarius panicked, frantically adjusting controls on his console. "The temperature of the suspension fluid is raising exponentially! It's boiling away!"
One of the clone's eyes snapped open, bulging unnaturally as it locked upon FitzGerald with a look of utterly unbridled rage. FitzGerald's own eyes widened in realization...
"Warp-spasm."
The tank suddenly exploded, sending shards of glass shrapnel flying in all directions as Sevarius and the FitzGeralds dived for cover. At the same instant, every fuse in the building blew simultaneously, plunging the hidden laboratory into inky darkness.
FitzGerald's eyes adjusted as the emergency lights kicked in, washing the chamber in a blood-red glow. He almost lost his composure at the sight that greeted him.
Before FitzGerald loomed a monstrous hulking figure that seemed barely human. It glared down upon him with a single baleful green eye before throwing back its shaggy head and unleashing a bloody howl of purest fury.
[-]
Liscoo, Co. Donegal, Ireland
Rory Dugan awoke in a cold sweat, panting heavily. For one nightmarish moment, he thought himself still trapped in the strange crimson-lit chamber. But the reddish glow was only the light of the setting sun filtering through the heavy curtains of his bedroom.
"Mental..." He exhaled. "Serves me right for eating day old pizza before bed."
He spent the next few minutes laying restlessly in bed as the sun slowly dipped behind the mountains to the west. A moment later, a low howl rose from the back yard outside.
"Guess that's my wake-up call," He groaned.
[-]
Nightstone Unlimited, Paris Office, May 21st
A tall, blond woman clad in dark glasses, green long-coat and purple beret trod through the wreckage of what was once a pristine corporate lobby. The pale light of dawn glittering upon the broken glass scattered about the floor.
She knelt down to examine a massive indentation in the cracked marble floor. It looked almost like a footprint, but what could be heavy enough to leave footprints in solid marble?
"Can I help you, Madame?" a voice inquired. The blond woman looked up to be greeted by the sight of a dark-haired woman in a midnight blue business suit.
"Inspector, actually," the blonde woman responded, flashing a badge. "Renée Chevalier of the Paris Police Prefecture. What exactly happened here, Madame...?"
"Dumont, Sandra Dumont, head of Nightstone's Paris branch," the dark-haired woman answered, raising a quizzical brow. "And I believe I already made a statement to the police?"
"Humor me," the blonde spoke flatly.
"An unfortunate accident, I'm afraid," Mme. Dumont began. "One of the building's newly installed generators exploded last night and-"
"Decided to go barreling through your lobby like an escaped rhinoceros?" the blonde woman drawled.
"As I said, I've already given my statement to your colleagues," Dumont answered. "I'm sure they can give you a more detailed account.
The blonde's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Regardless, Mr. Thailog is happy to pay the city for any damages caused."
"I'm sure he is," the blond woman spoke. "Thank you for your time, Mme. Dumont."
"A pleasure, Inspector," Dumont inclined her head.
The blonde woman turned to leave, stepping out into the cold light. She followed the streets down to the banks of the Seine, where an iron guard-railing had been violently wrenched from the concrete.
"Exploding generator, my arse," she swore in a thick Scottish brogue.
[-]
Liscoo, Co. Donegal, Ireland, May 22nd
He swam through the cold briny sea, water boiling as it made contact with his limbs. His rage kept him warm amid the dark frozen depths.
Rory awoke to find something wet and warm lapping against his face. It only took him a moment to realize it was Barghest's tongue.
He found himself sitting in the passenger seat of his dad's old van. Barghest crouched in the back as Molly shot Rory a concerned look from behind the wheel.
"Sorry," Rory groaned. "Musta dozed off."
They pulled up to the Dugan homestead, a thin mist seeping over the grass. Every window in the house was dark.
"Didn't think it was that late?" Rory mused as he stepped out of the passenger door, carrying his yew-wood staff.
Barghest hopped from the back of the van onto the damp gravel, growling low as she sniffed the air.
Rory fished his key from his jacket pocket as he reached for the doorknob, only to stop short.
"It's not locked," he whispered, looking back at Molly and Barghest.
Rory gently pushed the door inwards, revealing only inky blackness beyond.
"Da'?" Rory called softly, fingers clenched tight about his staff.
"R-Rory..." a voice replied weakly.
Rory instantly hit the light-switch. "Sweet Jesus!"
The entire living room was covered in creeping branches. Bound to his chair by a mass of vines, sat Sean Dugan.
"DA'!" Rory screamed, bounding forward. "Don't worry! We'll get you ou-" Rory reached out to tear the vine's away only to freeze when one wrapped around his father's throat began to tighten.
"I wouldn't recommend that," a voice rasped.
Rory, Molly and Barghest turned in unison towards the kitchen-area. Leaning over the counter was a haggard man in a dark overcoat, a black cane tucked under his arm and a steaming cup in his hands.
"Hope you don't mind me using your kettle," he smirked.
"WHO ARE YOU!?" Rory howled, advancing on the intruder. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DAD!?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten me already, lad? It was only March last we met at Kilkea Castle," the stranger chuckled dryly.
Rory froze, finally recognizing the wizard who had stolen the bones of his previous incarnation.
"Though I did neglect to introduce myself. Gerald FitzGerald; Lord Kildare and Earl of Desmond," The wizard bowed. "And you must be Cú Chulainn; Hero of Ulster reborn... or do you prefer 'Rory'?"
Molly signed something.
"What's that? I don't speak..." The wizard wiggled his fingers.
"She wants to know how you found us?" Rory snarled.
"Ah, that's easy," the wizard scoffed, pulling a metal case from beneath the sink. Rory instantly recognized it as the same case he had recovered from Kilkea castle.
The wizard touched his cane to the case, revealing a faintly glowing green glyph inscribed upon the bottom. "Tracking rune. You really shouldn't have kept this."
"Enough!" Rory yelled, enraged at his own stupidity. "Let my dad go or..."
"Now now, lad, there's no need to get yourself worked up." The wizard pointed his cane directly at the young man. "I just wanted to get your attention."
"You got 'til the count of ten." Rory hissed though gritted teeth, ready to strike his staff upon the ground at an instant's notice.
"Fair enough," the wizard slurped down the last of his tea. "I'm being hunted by a creature of unimaginable savagery. So... I came to you. That's what you heroes do, isn't it? Fight monsters and protect poor lost souls in need?"
"Rory... don't... listen to..." Sean wheezed before the vine around his throat constricted once more.
"Let him go!" Rory snarled.
"And if I do?"
"Then I'll take care of your monster problem."
"Do I have your word, upon your immortal soul?" the wizard asked, eyes glinting with avarice.
"You have," Rory answered.
"Deal!" the wizard touched the tip of his cane to the nearest vine. "Fill ar an talamh!"
The vines instantly began to wither and die, releasing Sean Dugan. He wrenched himself from his chair; coughing and sputtering.
"Are you all right, Da'?" said Rory, kneeling by his father's side.
"I'm fine.." Sean wheezed. "Just a little winded."
"Well, shall we be off?" the wizard spoke, holding the front door open.
"Rory," Sean hissed, grabbing his son's arm. "Ya can't trust this bastard!"
"I don't intend to, Da'" Rory spoke before he and Molly followed the wizard outside.
Barghest made to follow before being stopped in her tracks.
"No, girl!" Rory commanded.
The beast whined pleadingly, webbed ears drooping.
"I need you to stay here and look after Da'," Rory cooed, laying a hand on the beast's head. "Can ye do that for me, girl?"
Barghest hesitated for a moment before turning back to sit by the elder Dugan's side.
"Good girl," Rory smiled before stepping out into the night, where Molly was already waiting.
At the end of the driveway, sat a jet black limousine. The only color upon the vehicle was a white coat of arms marked by a crimson X. A blond olive-skinned girl in a chauffeur uniform was holding the door open.
"Coming?" FitzGerald called from within.
Rory and Molly exchanged a tense glance before stepping into the car. A moment later, the door snapped shut behind them.
[-]
Redemption Squad HQ, Paris
The pristine lobby of Nightstone Unlimited's Paris Office flickered across the screen. Two figures made their way across the image; a middle-aged gentleman leaning heavily on a black cane, and an olive-skinned young woman attending him.
"These is our target," Hunter spoke, freezing and enlarging the image. "Gerald FitzGerald, notorious black market collector of Celtic antiquities, and his daughter Geraldine."
"Wow! Somebody really wanted a Gerald Jr," the bat-winged mutate Fang scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. On the other side of the table, the slate-gray gargoyle Yama simply rolled his eyes.
"It's an old family name," Hunter continued. "Clan FitzGerald has been one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Ireland since at least the 14th century."
"Old money idiot with no day job, got it," Dingo commented. "Why's the old geezer on our radar?"
"Twenty minutes after the FitzGeralds entered Nightstone's Paris Office," Hunter spoke. "This happened."
The image cut to a full color police photograph of the ruined remains of the lobby.
"Strewth," Dingo swore under his breath.
"According to Nightstone's official story, the building was empty when whatever did this went down," Hunter continued. "We would have had no idea the FitzGeralds had even been there if Matrix hadn't hacked this footage from their mainframe before it could be deleted."
"You are welcome," the liquid silver nano-bot collective intoned.
"Which means FitzGerald is either dead or in the wind. If he is alive, first place to look is his estate on the shores of Lough Gur, just over twenty clicks south of Limerick."
"What, you mean like one o' them dirty poems?" Fang asked.
"It's a city in Ireland, Fang," Hunter sighed.
"I knew that," Fang snipped.
"The mission is simple: we find FitzGerald, alive or dead, and bring him in for questioning, Hunter concluded. "Along with anyone else stupid enough to get between us and him."
[-]
Cork Harbor, Southern Coast of Ireland
Cold waves crashed against the granite cliffs, as slow and steady as a titan's heartbeat. At the foot of the cliffs where land met sea, the waters began to bubble and boil as a massive malformed hand reached from the foam. It dug its fingers deep into the solid stone, steam rising from its sizzling skin.
A moment later, a second hand sank into the cliff-face, dragging an immense dark form behind it. The thing's mind was a fog of rage and pain. Only one thought was clear in its unformed psyche; It had to go North.
It had to go home.
[-]
Lough Gur, Co. Limerick, May 23rd
Molly's footsteps echoed through the cold halls of FitzGerald Manor, guided by the wizard's daughter. The fading light of sunset streamed though the vast windows, falling upon at least a dozen portraits lining the opposite wall.
The subjects portrayed wore a wide array of features, body-types and clothing ranging from the Medieval to the Edwardian. Yet each bore a knowing leer, as though sharing a private joke.
"This is Gerald FitzGerald, third Earl of Desmond, one of the first of our bloodline," the girl intoned. She gestured to a portrait of an impossibly aged man clad in a brown-hooded robe, his hair was the color and texture of dried straw, and his skin that of ancient bark.
Molly couldn't help but notice that the portrait carried the same sardonic leer as all the others. The same leer she'd seen on the face of their current 'host'.
"The Earl was a great poet," the girl continued. "Who by virtue of his sweet words, wooed and won the heart of the goddess Áine. And she in turn, revealed onto him the lost lore of the ancient druids."
Molly's eyes narrowed suspiciously. The wasn't how Áine told the story.
[-]
From the rooftop of FitzGerald Manor, Rory watched as the sun dipped below horizon. As it did so, the shimmering golden waters of Lough Gur gradually turned a deep dusky purple.
He wished Barghest was here.
"Lovely isn't, it?" a voiced rasped.
Rory turned to be confronted by the image of FitzGerald leaning upon his serpent-cane, eyeing the young Ulsterman as though appraising a prize thoroughbred.
"What do you want now, FitzGerald?" Rory asked.
"I thought perhaps I should apologize for that spot of bother back in Liscoo?" the wizard replied.
"Oh, you mean threatening to strangle my dad so you could blackmail me into doing your dirty work?" Rory sneered. "No worries, what're a few hostages between friends?"
FitzGerald was silent for a moment, before breaking out into a bout of harsh hoarse laughter. Laughter which soon degenerated into a hacking cough.
"Are... are you alright?" Rory asked.
"No," FitzGerald hissed, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.
The twin emerald eyes of the wizard's silver serpent suddenly blazed bright green.
"Seems we have trespassers," he intoned.
[-]
A silver sphere emerged from the murky waters of Lough Gur. Its surface peeled back to reveal Hunter and Dingo crouched within. They wasted no time diving for cover in the underbrush along the shore as Matrix resumed its humanoid form.
"Alpha Team to Beta Team," Hunter whispered, tapping the earpiece hidden under her mask. "We're in position. What's your status?
"Still en route, Alpha," Yama's static-tinged voice responded.
"We woulda been there sooner, if someone didn't insist on sleeping in the nude," Fang's voice interjected.
Hunter let out an exasperated sigh, "We'll give you ten minutes to get into position, then we move on the house."
"Acknowledged, Beta out," Yama answered.
[-]
Yama leaped over the high walls of the estate, landing silently on the soft turf below. He was followed swiftly by Fang, who landed with significantly less grace.
"Hey," Fang hissed. "How come we gotta be Beta Team while Hunter and Dingo get to be Alpha? It's blatant specieism, I tells ya! Just another way for the hu-MAN to keep a bat-winged brother down, amirite?"
"Fang...?" Yama whispered.
"Yeah, Yamster?"
"Shut up."
Gargoyle and mutate moved silently through the shrubbery 'til they came within sight of the manor's towering front door.
Before it, a muscular human warrior clad in a golden helm and scarlet cloak stood watch. In his hand, he held what appeared to be a shimmering shaft of solidified light.
"Whoa!" Fang whispered. "Somebody's overdressed for the renfair."
"Fang," Yama spoke softly. "Make your way around the side of the house and try to find some egress."
"What are you gonna be doin'?"
"Keeping our friend occupied," Yama spoke as he emerged from the undergrowth, talons wrapped tightly about the hilt of the katana that hung at his side.
[-]
Cú Chulainn's eyes scanned the landscape as he stood watch before the doors of FitzGerald's manor. He felt like a tool pacing through the grounds like a glorified night watchman but he didn't see many other options.
"Two thousand years and I'm still playing bloody guard dog," he muttered under his breath.
Cú's ears perked up at the sound of rustling coming from the bushes surrounding the house. He instantly lowered Gáe Bolga into a battle-stance.
A moment later, a tall slate-gray figure emerged from the undergrowth. Black wings clung around his shoulders like a cloak. Great curved horns rose from his forehead before curving back over a sable mane.
"Great," Cú sighed. "I shoulda known FitzGerald's 'monster' would be a gargoyle."
"I am called Yama... the mountain," the gargoyle intoned.
"Cú Chulainn, the Hound of Culann," the warrior replied. "Charmed."
"I would have words with the master of this house," Yama unfurled his wings, revealing the sword sheathed at his side. "Will you stand aside, Hound of Culann?"
"Sorry, mate," Cú shook his head. "Whatever you're planning to do to FitzGerald, he probably deserves it. But I gave my word and I don't make a habit of going back on that."
"I would expect no less," Yama spoke, drawing his blade with a single fluid motion.
[-]
"Come on, you stupid..." Fang grunted as he wrenched open the window. The half-rotted frame raised with a grinding screech that set the mutate's teeth on edge.
He hopped into the darkened room, eyes adjusting quickly. One of the upsides of having cougar and bat genes spliced into his DNA.
"Sweeeet," he whispered, realizing he'd landed smack dab in the middle of a fully stocked kitchen. "Might as well refuel while I'm here."
He strutted up to the refrigerator, pulling it open. The bright light stung his eyes as he squinted. One of the downsides of having cougar and bat genes spliced into his DNA.
"Ah, there you are," he grinned, taking a leg of leftover lamb and tearing a chunk off with his bare teeth. "Needs salt," he mumbled.
He slammed the refrigerator shut, turning to find dozens of tiny glowing green eyes watching him from the shadows. He swallowed the meat with an audible gulp.
"Non sequitur, non sequitur!" dozens of tiny figures squealed as they pounced upon the mutate with claws like brambles and teeth like blood-stained thorns.
[-]
Hunter and Dingo stalked through the manor's shadowed corridors, weapons drawn. Tendrils of silver slithered from the darkness, pooling at their feet.
"Matrix, report?" Hunter whispered.
"Target is twenty meters ahead," the silver puddle replied.
Hunter gave Dingo a silent nod. A moment later, the silver nanobots began engulfing the Aussie ex-mercenary.
"Isn't this a bit overkill for some bloke with a cane?" Dingo asked as Matrix coalesced into a full body suit of silver armor.
"We're not taking any chances," the Scot spoke as they came to a set of heavy wooden doors. Hunter raised three fingers silently as she and Dingo took position either side of the ornately carved wooden frame.
Two fingers... one...
They kicked the door in simultaneously. Hunter swept the room with her side-arm as Dingo's arms morphed into twin particle-cannons. Off to Hunter's side a black crow sat in a golden bird-cage, some sort of metal band around its beak. Directly in front of her, gazing out over a balcony, was their target.
"Gerald FitzGerald, we're taking you in," Hunter proclaimed.
"Really," the Irishman rasped, not even turning to face them. "On who's authority?"
"On the authority of the three guns we have pointed at your bloody skull," Hunter sneered.
"Suppose I can't argue with that," FitzGerald chuckled darkly. "Now."
Ghostly blue light flashed on the edge of Hunter's vision. She turned to see a shaggy gray she-wolf wearing a golden-bladed muzzle pouncing on her.
"ROBYN!?" Dingo screamed turning to see his companion hit the ground as she struggled with the violently trashing wolf.
"Tar tintreach!" FitzGerald cried, drawing a gnarled wooden rod from his cane. Emerald lightning burst from the wand's tip, striking Dingo and freezing his armor in place.
"Geraldine, bring the car around the side," the wizard spoke into a cell-phone before slipping it back into his pocket, casually walking past the still struggling Hunter and she-wolf. "You girls have fun."
The she-wolf's golden muzzle was a mass of spikes and blades straining for Hunter's throat. She had little doubt the beast could do a lot of damage even without its jaws or natural fangs.
Hunter slipped a small taser from a pouch before jamming its metal prongs into the animal's side. The canine convulsed silently before falling into a semi-conscious stupor. She pushed the torpid beast off her before rushing to check on Dingo.
"Harry?" She asked. "You alright?"
"Yeah..." Dingo replied from somewhere under the armor. "Just need to give Matrix a minute to clear his head."
"Fair enough," Hunter spoke before giving chase to the escaping target. She'd made it halfway down the hall when she heard what sounded like a heavy pounding on the hardwood floor coming up behind her.
Hunter spun around only to be confronted by the sight of a horned white heifer charging her, a spiked golden muzzle wrapped around its snout. She waited until the rampaging animal was practically within arm's reach before grabbing it by both horns.
The heifer's head instinctively jerked upwards, providing Hunter the momentum needed to leap clear over the rampaging bovine. She landed with cat-like grace behind the animal, who was struggling to turn in the narrow hallway.
Ghostly pale light enveloped the creature as it shifted into the form of the shaggy gray she-wolf from before.
"Ah... so that's your secret," Hunter smirked, drawing what appeared to be a dark metal sphere from her belt.
The she-wolf pounced once more, but this time Hunter hurled the sphere directly at the beast. It exploded into a metallic net that swiftly entangled the she-wolf, sending it tumbling to the ground.
The creature writhed impotently in the netting, glowing pale blue as it shifted shape from wolf to heifer to crow and finally, a pink-haired girl in a leather jacket. She glared at Hunter with a look of indignant fury.
"Iron filament in the netting," Hunter gloated, placing a foot on her prey. "Had it whipped up after a run-in with the Monkey King a couple years back."
Dingo came running up the hall, Matrix gliding along the floor behind him. "I can't believe you just left me bloody standing there!" He bellowed.
"You said you were alright," Hunter shrugged. "Better check in on Yama and..."
Fang suddenly came barreling through one of the hall doors, screaming as half a dozen tiny wooden creatures crawled all over him, clawing and biting at every inch of exposed flesh they could find. The mutate unleashed a panicked blast of lightning that reduced his attackers to charred splinters.
"GAAGH!" Fang spat, tongue lolling out. "I think sum o' dem goth in mah mouth!"
"Fang!" Hunter exclaimed. "Where's Yama?"
[-]
Shimmering light-spear and gleaming katana clashed again and again, almost faster then the eye could follow. Cú Chulainn had the edge in raw power, but the gargoyle called Yama made up the difference with skill.
"Impressive," Yama intoned over locked weapons. "But why fight so fiercely for a man you clearly hold in contempt?"
"I'm not fighting for FitzGerald," Cú growled, pushing Yama back. "I'm fighting for my family!"
"Ah..." Yama sighed in understanding as the two warriors circled each-other, weapons raised. "The stick."
Three more figures landed on the open lawn near the dueling warriors. One of them was a man clad in silver armor, the second was a bat-winged creature with the head of a cat, the third was a masked woman in black. Over the woman's shoulder was slung a net containing...
"Molly!" Cú exclaimed.
"Yama?" The masked woman inquired.
"Do not interfere!" Yama shouted.
"Ah man, is this one o' them samurai-Klingon-honor things?" the cat-head drawled, lightning wreathing its paws. "Let me just blast him!"
"Fang, if you interfere with this duel I will slice off your head and mount it upon the front of the Redemption!" Yama bellowed, before thrusting his blade at Cú.
Cú moved to parry but before he could, blinding pain erupted within his skull...
He raced through the night under a waxing half-moon, ground shaking with every step of his monstrous feet. He caught the faintest trace of his tormentor's scent in the air, inflaming his rage to even further heights.
Up ahead, lapped the shores of a horseshoe-shaped lake. He did not even slow down, instead using the power of his mammoth calves to send his massive frame hurtling over the waters in a salmon-like leap.
[-]
Yama stayed his blade as the warrior collapsed to the ground. His foe twitched in semi-consciousness as though in the throes of some kind of seizure... or nightmare.
"Congratz, you won!" Fang beamed. "Now can I blast him?"
"This is no victory," Yama hissed, kneeling by the fallen warrior's side. "He requires medical attention!"
"I'll call in the Redemption," Hunter spoke, passing her netted prey to Dingo as she fished a remote from her belt. "Any idea who he is?"
"He called himself the 'Hound of Culann'," Yama answered as he checked the warrior's pulse.
Hunter's eyes widened. "The Hound of...?"
Something rumbled in the distance like thunder as the warrior's eyes snapped open.
"No sudden movements!" Hunter barked, drawing side-arm on the prisoner. "Where's Fitz-"
Before she could complete her sentence, something landed upon the lawn with the force of an impacting meteor, sending debris flying in all directions. Matrix barely had time to form a protective dome around the Squad and their prisoners.
"Matrix, bring the shield down!" Hunter ordered.
The nanobot collective complied, revealing a massive crater in the middle of the lawn, small flames burning around the edges. Then something stepped out of it.
The creature was a grotesque parody of the human form. Its muscles swelled and bulged many times beyond what was naturally possible. So much that its pale ash-gray skin seemed torn in several places, revealing the crimson musculature beneath.
From beneath a mass of bone-white hair gazed a single blazing green eye big as a human skull, its twin was nothing but a single emerald pinpoint in a hollow eye-socket. Its lips were peeled back in a rictus snarl. The grass where it trod charred and wilted.
"My God," Hunter whispered.
The thing howled with a war-cry that seemed to shake the firmament, sparks flying from its gullet as though from a furnace.
Then it charged.
To be Continued...
