Gargoyles – The Island – Epilogue: Hypoxanthine
Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur.
[-]
Gen-U-Tech Systems, New York City
July 16, 1995 A.D.
Maggie Reed looked into the mirror being held before her, barely able to comprehend the face staring back.
"That…" she whispered, sheer horror having driven nearly all the energy from her voice. "That can't be me…"
"Oh, but it is, ma belle mademoiselle!" said Anton Sevarius, who by contrast, couldn't have sounded more gleeful. He leaned casually upon his cane, his posture making it clear he didn't actually need it to stand. "Congratulations on being one of the first to take a step into a brave new world of human progress! Why, you're practically a pioneer!"
"No…" mumbled Maggie. "No no no no no no no no…"
She was backing away from him, clutching at herself. Of course, since she was currently encased in a glass enclosure, barely large enough to move around in, she didn't get far.
The mad doctor, meanwhile, simply continued to leer. He wasn't a very tall man, but with her trying to shrink back into the furthest corner, tearstained eyes squeezed resolutely shut, he seemed to tower over the quivering woman.
"Come now, you really are being so unreasonable," he told her. "From a gain-loss standpoint, you've come out quite ahead! It's not like you've been deprived of any of your previous functionality, after all. And what grand prizes you've managed to reap in return! Panthera leo, Myotis lucifugus, and even a nice, healthy sprinkling of Electrophorus electricus. Oh, it's enough to almost make me envious of my own test subject!"
"Not like I've been…?" Maggie repeated, her mouth hanging open. "You turned me into a monster!"
"Your choice of words. Not mine," said Sevarius, his lip curling. "Personally, I think you're far more fetching in this form. Or more interesting, at any rate."
Maggie was barely listening. She just kept retreating further and further into her own head – but the only image she was able to picture remained her own, hideous visage.
"This was your plan all along," she gasped out, the betrayal still stinging. "All that crap about working as your assistant…"
The geneticist held up both hands. "Okay, that I'll cop to," he admitted. "Not that I wouldn't pay you if I had the ability! But in fairness, we never got around to swapping wire transfer details before the…ahem, procedure. I could pay you under the table in cash, I suppose. But…well, I can't guarantee you'll have much luck spending it, will you?"
"Of course I can't!" she roared, emotion swelling up through her chest until it was overflowing. Reflexively, she lashed out with one arm, swinging it wildly – and was taken aback as a burst of electricity discharged from her fingertips, slamming against the glass.
Sevarius' leer grew even wider, like a kid watching his action figure demonstrate its accessories and light-up features.
Maggie, for her part, wasn't usually one for wearing her anger and distress on her sleeve. But as the electricity hung in the air, filling her snout-like nose with the scent of ozone, she felt it all come pouring out.
"My life is over," she said, her voice a dull moan. "Looking like this…I'll never even be able to walk down the street. I'll never get to act again. And…"
She pulled her knees up to her chest, and clung tightly to herself. Her wings, wretched abominations though they were, curled around her body in a vain grasp for comfort.
Through choked sobs, she murmured, "And no one will ever love me…"
[-]
The Labyrinth, New York City
June 9, 1997 A.D.
Maggie's eyes drifted open, slowly. After the past forty-eight hours, she'd come to recognize – and not particularly enjoy – the sensation of waking up in a hospital bed.
But the sight that greeted her this time washed away any lingering traces of negativity.
Her son was dozing peacefully in the burly, black-furred arms of his father. Derek's teeth pulled upward into a tired but warm smile.
"You're up," he said, speaking softly so as not to wake the baby. "How are you feeling?"
"I…can't honestly say this has been one of the favorite acts from my life," she replied. "Please tell me we're almost at final curtain."
Derek chuckled at her theatre metaphor. "Just about," he quipped back. "But our lead actress still has to join the cast for the closing bow. You up for a few visitors? You, uh…kinda built up a bit of a line while you were out."
He glanced toward the closed door, looking more than a tad apprehensive, and Maggie's light laughter joined his.
"In a minute," stated the lioness-mutate, after a brief pause. "But first…can I hold my son a little longer?"
"Of course," Derek breathed out, bending down so he could pass the boy over as carefully as possible. She held him close to her breast, marveling at how heavy he felt, now that her senses were no longer dulled by drugs.
They sat like that for several moments, just the three of them. Their surroundings – the old Cyberbiotics lab that Thug had repurposed into a med bay – might've unnerved her, once upon a time. Certainly, she'd had more than her fill of laboratories.
But even though this complex was underground, and long-abandoned, and probably breaking a hundred medical safety laws, being back in the Labyrinth…comforted her.
At long last, she was home. Home with her family, old and new.
"This…This is really happening," she muttered, staring down at the tiny thing in her arms. "He's here. A little bit of me. A little bit of you."
"Hopefully more the former than the latter," said Derek, smiling wryly. "I think one Talon is more than enough for the Labyrinth to deal with."
Maggie laughed again, then leaned over slightly, to offer a brief kiss for the man she loved.
"Alright," she told him, each of their catlike eyes holding firm to the others'. "You can send them in."
[-]
What followed was a parade of greeters and well-wishers that could've filled a lineup of Saturday-morning cartoons.
Derek's family came in first, of course, fresh off planes from Phoenix and Prague. Maggie felt a warm swell in her heart as she passed the child over to her mother-in-law (well…for a given definition of "law"), even as it was accompanied by a dull pang she couldn't quite describe.
Though she was fairly certain she knew the cause.
"Oh, God Almighty. He's beautiful," said Diane Maza, her eyes shimmering. "A grandson, Peter. We have a grandson…"
"I'm so glad he's healthy," added her husband, pragmatic as always – though he too looked a bit misty-eyed. "But has the OB had a chance to examine them yet? Based on what you just told us, the baby wasn't exactly born in…ideal circumstances."
"There was a lot to take care of when we got back," Elisa explained, her voice hoarse from relaying the whole "crazy island" story for the third time now. "Stowing away that flying machine for Lexington to examine, restraining Sevarius until I can bring him to the precinct…but yeah. We got a call out to Doctor Shirakawa a few hours ago. She's on her way."
"It's definitely a lot to process. Even if I didn't have a newborn nephew on top of everything," remarked Beth with a sigh. "Folkloric figures like Coyote or Anansi are one thing, but Doctor Moreau? I'm really gonna have to reevaluate my whole stance on fact versus fiction."
"Trust me," responded her sister. "You get used to it."
As if taking that as their cue, the door to the lab opened again, and several members of the Manhattan Clan of gargoyles filtered in.
"Oh, this is so wonderful!" exclaimed Angela. "We never got to see human children on Avalon. Congratulations, all of you."
"He looks so different from Alex," Lexington observed, leaning forward to examine the boy. "But similar, too. It's…hard to describe."
"Aye, lad. There's a spark tae new life, that innae bound by race nae land ae birth," said Hudson, placing a leathery claw on each of their shoulders. "'E may nottae 'atched from an egg, but the look on 'is face is the very same as e'ry rookery child I e'er reared."
Technically, there was an egg involved, but Maggie decided not to quibble about the human gestation process. She appreciated the sentiment all the same.
Goliath, who brought up the rear, smiled warmly. "We will not be long. I know it is important that your clan, your…family, have time to yourselves, to welcome this child into the world," he told Peter and Diane, bowing his head respectfully to them both. "But mine was quite eager to witness this miracle for themselves."
The African-American woman returned her grandson to Maggie's waiting arms, then walked over to pat Goliath lightly on his broad, muscular forearm.
"The way Elisa tells it, there's no one more responsible for my grandson returning here safely than you, Goliath," declared Diane. "Bless you. There's no telling how many times over my family owes you our lives."
That actually seemed to throw the ever-stoic warrior off a bit, as he looked like he wasn't quite sure how to respond.
"Well, you see…" he began, and for the first time since meeting the hulking gargoyle, Maggie thought he actually seemed…sheepish? It was kind of adorable. "That is to say…we do not exactly 'keep score.' But I assure you that Elisa has returned the favor, just as often."
Maggie was sure she didn't miss the pink that appeared in Elisa's cheeks at these words – or the resultant looks that passed between Derek, Beth, Peter, and Diane. There was an entire, silent conversation taking place, which only those who'd grown up in the Maza household would quite be able to understand, but the lioness-mutate got the gist.
For now, she decided it wasn't her role to butt in. But she saw the small frown on Derek's lips, much as he tried to suppress it, and she found herself scowling in turn.
She wouldn't say anything. Not today, of all days. But this argument, unspoken as it was, was far from over.
"So, uh…anyway," said Beth after a little while, coughing awkwardly. "You given any thought to naming this little guy?"
Elisa crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "Well, he turned down all of my helpful suggestions," she grumbled in mock-offense.
Maggie, meanwhile, shared a long look with the man she loved. He broke into a grin, and she did the same.
"Actually, we discussed this on the flight over. Though I guess I must've fallen back asleep halfway through," she answered. "But we settled on something we could both accept."
"Thomas Willie Maza," added Derek, beaming with pride as he looked down upon his son. "Thom for short – with an 'H.' I've always liked it spelled that way."
"Thom, huh?" repeated Lexington, looking thoughtful. "Yeah…I like the sound of that."
"Oh, he shares a name with our Guardian!" said Angela. "I can think of no better title for a young warrior."
"He's named after Tennessee Williams, actually. His birth name was Thomas Lanier Williams III," Maggie told them. "He was always my favorite playwright."
Beth stifled a giggle. "Gee. Who could've ever guessed?" she murmured, though in good humor.
"We were even gonna go with 'Williams' or 'William' for the middle name. But she gave me permission to tweak the spelling to match Willie Mays," Derek continued to explain. He held up both hands preemptively. "Hey, if she can reference her MVP, I get to do the same!"
All of the humans in the room broke into laughter. The gargoyles just looked at each other in confusion.
"Well, sounds like you've got all your bases covered," stated Peter, once the mirth died down. He apparently missed his own pun, since he raised an eyebrow as both his daughters started chuckling again. "That is…unless the boy winds up hating baseball and theatre."
"In the city that gave us the Mets and Broadway? Err…the street, not the gargoyle," Elisa replied, smiling wryly at the older man. "Dad, you raised three born-and-bred New Yorkers. Them's fighting words in this town."
The exchange continued for some time in that general vein, as an increasingly defensive Peter tried to explain – badly – that he hadn't meant any offense, an argument none of the Maza siblings were willing to accept.
It took him a remarkably long time to realize they were all just pulling his leg. And all the while, Maggie and Diane just laughed longer and harder.
The lioness-mutate soon lost track of time, as her adoptive family continued to trade good-natured barbs, in the way only people glued tightly by bonds of love and trust could. Take away the underground lab and the quintet of progressively bewildered gargoyles, and the scene could've come straight out of a heartwarming family special.
That same, dull ache in Maggie's chest returned, all the stronger.
Before she could give it any more thought, however, the door to the laboratory opened once again.
"Sorry to interrupt," said Delilah, who was flanked by Malibu and Claw. Thug was still recovering from his injuries in another room. "But your doctor is here. Should I…?"
"You can send her in," Derek cut in immediately. "And we'll all get out of your hair in the meantime. Doctor Shirakawa's gotten the whole 'Ripley's Believe It or Not' tour already, but no sense spooking her any more than we have to."
There was a general murmur of assent, as the gathered members of the Maza family and Manhattan Clan bid their goodbyes and final well-wishes to the new mother.
"We'll pick you up something to eat when we get back up. Least we can do," Peter offered. "I'm sure you folks have, erm…facilities of your own down here, but Marano's is open twenty-four hours these days."
"Trust me. As someone who went through this three times over," added his wife, smiling bemusedly. "Nothing helps the recovery faster than a hot, steaming, brutally unhealthy pizza."
"Hey, count me in!" said Elisa, chuckling again as she and her siblings moved to follow their parents. "That's what was always missing during the World Tour. Would've been a lot easier to deal with gods, aliens, and were-panthers if I'd been guaranteed a few slices afterw…"
But she was interrupted by a hand seizing her, albeit gently, around the arm.
"Once the examination is finished…" muttered Maggie, quietly enough that only she could hear. "Come back, won't you? There's something I'm hoping you can do for me. And…it's not something I'd feel comfortable asking anyone else."
Elisa clearly didn't have a clue what she was getting at, but nodded all the same.
"Of course," she whispered back.
Then she joined the others, filing out of the slightly cramped laboratory one at a time.
The last thing Maggie heard, before the door closed behind them, was either Delilah or Elisa – probably the former, since she used "Talon" rather than "Derek" – adding something in hushed tones.
"Talon. Goliath. There's something you both need to know."
[-]
"He escaped?!" roared Talon, loud enough that his sister had to place a hand on his shoulder, silently reminding him of the newborn sleeping in the other room.
"Guess we shouldn't be surprised," she said bitterly. "No matter how tightly we lock Sevarius up, he always finds a crack to slip through. Like a cockroach."
With the three other Mazas having returned to the surface for a pizza run, and Claw and Malibu leading the search party, the only ones receiving this briefing were Talon, Elisa, and the Manhattan gargoyles.
"And even worse, you say he has absconded with the Doctor's flying machine," spoke Goliath gravely. "Regretful. Even if such a vehicle would be of little use to our clan, I had hoped it might aid one of our allies. The London Clan, perhaps. Or the King Pendragon."
"Aw, man," Lexington groused. "I was looking forward to taking that thing apart! The way you described it, Goliath…it's not like any ship I've ever heard of before."
"How would he even control such a contraption?" asked Angela, furrowing her brow ridge. "That man's as intelligent as he is evil, but I never got the sense he knew much about piloting. He had his men do it for him at Loch Ness."
"The machine was remarkably…intuitive," Goliath attempted to explain. "It was clearly powered by some kind of sorcery. When I used it, I had but to speak a destination."
"And at the speed that thing flies, he could be halfway across the world by now," said Elisa, massaging at both temples with her pointer fingers. "God…just what we needed after the last couple nights."
"Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit dammit," Talon rumbled, smashing his fist against the nearest wall.
"Perhaps…" Hudson stated suddenly. "Ittae fer the best."
"What do you mean?" demanded the mutate leader, immediately rounding on him. "After everything he's done…!"
"I'm not aboot tae deny 'is crimes. At this point, there innae any justice too good fer 'im – in this world, ae beyond it," Hudson answered, his tones calm and pensive. "But the way yeh tell it, 'e spent last night in service tae a good deed. Maybe the first one in 'is 'ole miserable life."
"Only under duress," Elisa pointed out, frowning. "And only because none of us had any other choice."
"Still, lass. When yeh get tae be my age, one thing yeh realize is this: gargoyle, 'uman, Child ae Oberon. At the core, we're all people – e'en the ones twisted as 'im. An' people innae e'er simple," said the old soldier. "Nae, I won't pretend there's much 'ope fer 'im. 'E's made 'is roost, an' that's where 'e'll rest. Redemption's only a path fer those who choose tae walk it."
He took a deep breath, and crossed his leathery arms in front of his chest.
"But maybe, jus' this once…'e's earned jus' a wee bittae freedom," he continued on. "Dinnae mean we stop lookin' fer 'im. Dinnae mean we 'esitate, if throwin' 'im in chains means 'e cannae 'urt anyone e'er again."
"But it means it would not be the end of the world…if we failed to recapture him this night," Goliath finished for him, his expression brooding.
Talon let out a long sigh. "I…guess you have a point. Sort of," he admitted begrudgingly. "I just wish I knew how that snake managed to slither away. That cage was triple-locked; I checked it myself. And Claw, Hollywood, and Al were all standing guard. But they all said – well, minus Claw – that they didn't see anything."
"You know, I've been meaning to talk to you guys about upgrading your security here," piped up Lexington. "Cameras, audio receivers, motion detectors…Amp's a real nerd for that kinda stuff. He's been sending me a bunch of really interesting material about it. Doesn't cost all that much these days, if you know where to buy."
"Let's table this for another night, Lex. But we're definitely interested," Talon replied. "For now…I'd appreciate having my detective sister, plus her crack crime-fighting monster squad, help me out with investigating. Maybe Sevarius left behind a clue to his next whereabouts."
"One thing's for sure," said Elisa. "Wherever he's off to now…he'll be stirring up a whole new mess of trouble."
[-]
Nightstone Unlimited, New York City
June 9, 1997 A.D.
"Enjoying your new toys, doctor?" asked a young, Middle Eastern woman, through what seemed to be a near-perpetual smirk.
"Oh, extremely," sneered Anton Sevarius, as he stirred crimson liquid around in a beaker until it turned a nasty purple. "Even better than the last lab Ms. Destine put up for me. Or is that name verboten in these particular halls?"
His employer emerged through the doorway, his armor gleaming brightly – as if it'd just been polished.
"By all means, feel free to speak of her as much you like. It's not as if she's been doing all that much in the way of her…executive duties," said Thailog, chuckling darkly. "Now, shall we get down to business?"
"Ah, not wasting time, are we?" Sevarius responded, briefly setting aside his lab implements. "No surprise. While I'm quite grateful for your assistant's…well, assistance…I was certain it couldn't possibly come out of the goodness of your heart. I should know – I didn't put any in."
The clone laughed again, this time far more maniacally.
"Oh, Sevarius. While I'm not particularly fond of any of my fathers, you're certainly the one who…amuses me the most. At least on occasion," he told the geneticist. "And you're also the most useful to me. Now, while I know you're strictly freelance these days…"
"You have some projects that'll require me to stay put for a little while," Sevarius finished for him, his tone eager and agreeable. "Do you have even more fun planned for the DNA collected last Halloween?"
"Among others," answered Thailog, with a leer that showed he knew exactly how much he was piquing the mad doctor's interest. "But we can discuss that tomorrow night. For now, get yourself acclimated – and make sure to check in on that project. You know the one. Shari here has been taking notes on their progress in your absence, but she lacks your expert eye."
"Right you are, 'Mr.' Thailog," said Sevarius, speaking the honorific as if it was the punchline to a very funny joke. It was a mark of just how useful he was that the clone didn't wring his neck right then and there.
Instead, he turned to his assistant and ordered, "Shari. Show it to me, will you?"
The young woman nodded her head, and replied, "Yes, Mr. Thailog."
A few moments later, the two of them were standing atop the roof of Nightstone Unlimited corporate headquarters, a few feet away from the helipad that sat at its crown.
At the center of the helipad, a vehicle was parked – but it didn't resemble any helicopter Thailog had ever seen before.
"Magnificent. And that's not a word I use very often," he declared. "How'd you manage to smuggle it and Sevarius out of the Labyrinth, without breaking your cover?"
Shari's smile simply widened. "A lady must have her secrets," she said.
Thailog weighed his options, before deciding not to press further. Instead he strode forward, placing a claw against the sleek material of the flying machine. It felt like nothing he'd ever touched before.
"I don't suppose I'm allowed to keep it," he murmured, already knowing the answer.
The storyteller shook her head once, looking for all the world as if – given a choice in the matter – she would've allowed him to hold onto this miracle machine forever.
She was very good at faking that sort of thing, and it was easy to be taken in if he wasn't careful.
Stepping to his side, Shari explained, "I'm afraid the Wilhelmina is one-of-a-kind, and irreplaceable. With so many of the natural veins tapped, it may well represent the single largest deposit of Orichalcum left in the world. It needs to be returned to where it belongs."
"So I suppose you'll be the one doing the returning?" asked the clone. "Given your Rank, I'm surprised the Society seems to so frequently treat you as their little errand girl."
"Actually, I'll be using it to make an…ahem…prior engagement," she said, already approaching the ship's belly. A hatch opened at her touch. "Funnily enough, I believe the one who'll be physically returning this old girl outranks even me. But that's just a coincidence. He already had business to address on the Island, so it all works out."
"And I'm guessing you wouldn't explain further, even if I ordered you to?" Thailog pressed her further, narrowing his eyes at the Middle Eastern girl.
Shari, who already had one foot inside the Wilhelmina, turned back and offered her pleasantest, most disarming smile.
"Oh, I'd certainly tell you a story, at least," she spoke brightly. "Though who can say if it be true?"
[-]
Beast Folk City, The Island
June 11, 1997 A.D.
The Doctor hovered silently, amidst the ruins of a once-proud city.
He'd spent most of the past three days simply observing; cataloguing the end of an era. Before Montgomery's appalling blunder, there'd been precisely one thousand, fifty-seven Beast Folk on the Island – males, females, and children alike.
Now, well over half that number had reverted completely, in mind if not body. The survivors were spread all across the Island, hunted by those they'd once called friend or neighbor, desperately trying to stave off their own degeneration.
Where he could, he'd endeavored to help. There was little risk of even the most dangerous Beast Folk actually harming him, given his current capabilities. This latest chassis was a construction of "Vincent Leonardo" himself, and was better-armed than several small countries.
But while he'd had a few isolated successes dragging frantic Beast Folk back to the House of Salvation for "remolding," there was no possible way for him to stem the tide.
There were simply too many in need of healing, and only one Doctor. More to the point, his only recent achievements had been with Beast Folk who were right on the brink.
Once they crossed a certain threshold, the poor creatures were beyond even his help.
And on top of all that, the House itself was in the worst shape it'd seen in decades. His own "security forces" had torn it to shreds, and certain parts of the building were now deathtraps crawling with vicious beasts. So much of his equipment, supplies, and other resources had been ruined in the crossfire, that every procedure was plagued by critical shortages.
With the last of his children he'd tried to help, a little catlike boy…he'd been forced to proceed without anesthesia, unable to find a single untainted bottle anywhere in his stores.
The child's mind had been cured. But his body couldn't withstand the strain.
Right now, the Doctor wasn't sure how different the Island was from the way he'd found it, nearly a century ago. If nothing else, "House of Pain" seemed a far more appropriate moniker for the seat of his power…
Than the sanitized renaming he'd enshrined into the Law, in his first official act as its guardian.
And the worst part…was that it was all his own fault. Sure, it was Montgomery's foolishness that'd tipped the scale, but he was the one who'd introduced outsiders to the Island for the first time in decades, and thus kick-started the entire, disastrous affair.
All of which, it turned out, had been for nothing. The samples he'd collected from Sevarius' "mutates," the testimony of the mad young fool himself…none of it held the answer he sought. The answer of how to save his children.
In retrospect, it was the equivalent of fighting an insect infestation by burning down one's own house. He hadn't actually solved the original problem; just made it so, so much worse.
Which didn't mean he was about to let Montgomery off the hook, of course. Not only had he taken matters into his own hands, to try and eradicate a perceived threat …but he'd used his name, his authority, in order to do so.
The Doctor had to make an example out of such treason.
If it was any of the other Beast Folk, he wouldn't have hesitated. Maybe he would've, once upon a time, but years had hardened the heart he no longer possessed. Anyone else would die.
Nevertheless…he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't love Montgomery – not exactly. He wasn't sure he was capable of that emotion now, or if he'd ever been.
But the Gorilla-Man did love him. Fully and unreservedly. Part of that was the nigh-religious fervor he instilled in all the Beast Folk during their initial conditioning; a necessary evil to keep them pliant and, therefore, safe. Yet he'd grown far beyond that original starting point.
In his very long life, the Doctor had experienced many things. He'd been ignored, worshipped, tolerated, outright hated. But never loved.
He was too weak to give that up.
That's why, in a distant corner of this Island, Montgomery sat alone in a cave – a collar around his neck and a switch in his hand. The switch, he'd explained, would provide the only suitable punishment for the Gorilla-Man's crimes.
The very same pain he'd inflicted on all his brothers and sisters.
Montgomery was to use the switch at his own discretion, applying exactly as much suffering as he felt he deserved. Once he decided to return to the Doctor's side, all would be forgiven.
Unsurprisingly, the Doctor hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for the past three days. He couldn't have picked a harsher judge.
"Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!"
The Doctor's reverie was broken up by frantic barking a few meters away. The Doctor's optical sensors directed themselves downward, and if he had a face it would've fallen a great deal.
It was Vance, one of his Sayers. Chosen for his uniquely gifted mind and silver tongue to speak the Doctor's will, keeping this magnificent City in order beneath the banner of the Law.
Now, apart from his misshapen, vaguely humanlike body, he was indistinguishable from any other canine.
Another reminder of his failure.
The Doctor hovered over, and used one of his claws to gently scratch behind the former Sayer's ear. He whined pleasurably, but still seemed agitated by something. Instinctively, the Doctor followed the creature's eyes, up into the skies above.
At first, he saw nothing. But soon enough, a shape emerged from the clouds, barreling at great speed toward the ruins of Beast Folk City.
Vance was beside himself now, barking madly, and the Doctor used two tentacles to hold him close. It was the least he owed the miserable creature.
Besides…he knew exactly what the shape was.
The Doctor watched on as the Wilhelmina, the Atlantean flying machine he'd "confiscated" from a team of adventurers decades prior, touched down upon the area that'd once been the City marketplace. He supposed it was no great loss. The stands and stalls had all been torn to pieces, their produce and crudely crafted goods scattered to the four winds.
Certainly, nothing was ever going to be bought or sold here again.
The hatch to the vehicle opened, and out stepped a man the Doctor had first met in 1887 – immediately following the most trying episode of his "former" life.
"Eight," said the Doctor, gently depositing Vance to the side so that he could approach the dapper gentleman, his perfectly pressed Armani suit a stark contrast from the surrounding ruins.
"Five," Watson Doyle answered promptly, hands folded casually over his emerald-topped cane. "It's been too long, Mr. Prendick."
[-]
House of Pain, The Island
October 5, 1887 A.D.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Doyle," murmured Edward Prendick, sagging into a chair in utter defeat. "I tried, I really did. And what I've accomplished now, after six long months…even this is far beyond the dreams of conventional science. It just isn't quite enough."
The slick-haired gentleman leaned forward, producing an eyeglass apparently from nowhere and peering at the jar before them.
"And what exactly is it that you've accomplished?" he asked, not really sounding all that concerned. "Apologies. As I've told you before, this is far from my areas of expertise."
"The compound you gave me…what you call 'Grail Water.' It was enough to restore a functional level of life to Moreau's brain," said Prendick, gesturing to the lump of gray flesh floating within the jar. Various wires and sensors protruded from its crinkled lobes. "But alive is all it is. If it was still inside Moreau's body…he'd be a vegetable. And that's putting it generously."
"I see…" responded Doyle, tapping lightly upon the glass with a single finger. "Then there's no possible way to restore his brilliant mind?"
Prendick shook his head despondently.
"He was simply left out there too long. By the time we retrieved his brain, a great deal of its functions had already shut down," he attempted to explain. "Right now, it'd be a miracle just to get it to respond to stimuli at all. He's never doing science again, that's for bloody sure."
Doyle let out a long, heavy sigh. "Such a shame," he stated coolly. "But if you are quite certain…"
Without further warning, he turned the emerald clockwise by ninety degrees. With a flash, a blade emerged from the tip of his cane. Then, in one fluid motion, he stabbed it straight into the jar, skewering Moreau's brain, and pulled his arm back.
The fleshy organ flew backward, sailing off the sword and plopping ignominiously upon the laboratory floor.
"Wh…Why…" mumbled Prendick, utterly horrified. "Why would you…?"
"Grail water is a highly precious resource. And if your findings are accurate, then this experiment is an utter waste of it," said Doyle, now calmly wiping off the blade with a thick handkerchief. "A shame, as I said. I quite liked Moreau. Did I ever mention he gave me this face?"
Prendick was still rendered speechless, so the older man went on, "The Detective and I both went over Reichenbach Falls, as I'm sure you know. Of course, only one of us had an emergency phial of Grail water. Still, the Society determined it was best that the survivor of the fall be…shall we say, obfuscated. So Moreau, a fresh initiate at the time, was employed to craft for me such a close likeness of the Detective's face, it could fool even his mother. I know – I checked."
A beat of silence fell upon the laboratory. Then, barely even managing a whisper, an astonished Prendick mouthed, "You mean you're…"
Doyle chuckled; a cruel, humorless sound. "Well it's not as if I was doing much to hide it," he answered, his lips twitching. "My chosen alias is less a mystery than an invitation, daring pretenders to the Detective's mantle to dig further. Not that any have yet managed to do so and live."
The older gentleman twisted the emerald again, returning his cane to its original state. Then he extracted a solid-gold pocket watch from his coat, and frowned slightly.
"I'm afraid I must take my leave. My schedule is never lacking for activity," he added, already halfway out the door. "But the Society won't forget your efforts, Mr. Prendick. You did the best you could. I'll make sure to arrange a ship so that you can finally leave this godforsaken…"
"Take me instead."
Doyle's hand froze in midair. "Care to repeat that, Mr. Prendick?" he said, without turning back around.
"I know I'm nowhere near Moreau's equal, intellectually or otherwise," continued Prendick, rising out of his chair. "But I've gotten this far, haven't I? With nothing but my own ingenuity, and his notes. You said it yourself, when we first met. Your precious 'Society' is going to need a new expert in the machinery of the body."
"All true," replied Doyle. "And I can't say I'm not impressed by your…initiative. But this isn't fully my decision. What do you wish me to tell my 'colleagues'? That instead of the unparalleled genius who made this Island a haven for his biological miracles…I bring the lowly boy who marooned here by accident?"
Prendick might've objected to the word "haven." The word "boy," too – he was thirty-three, after all. But he wasn't about to waste time quibbling over semantics.
Instead, he asked the other man, "What if you didn't tell them?"
Doyle raised a single eyebrow, evidently intrigued. He dipped a hand, a silent invitation for Prendick to elaborate.
"If this 'Society' of yours is as powerful and intelligent as you claim, no doubt some will figure it out. But I'll face those consequences if and when they come," he said. "In the meantime, a human brain suspended in this life support system is what they're expecting. And so…that's what they're going to get."
Now Doyle was giving his undivided attention, as if seeing the younger man in an entirely new light.
"You are truly committed to this," he muttered, sounding impressed in spite of himself. "But why? You know more than anyone, having tinkered with this machinery for months, precisely how risky this experiment would be. And even if it succeeds…"
He took a step forward, looking Prendick straight in the eyes.
"Would it truly be worth it?" he demanded coolly. "What could be worth giving up your very humanity?"
[-]
Beast Folk City, The Island
June 11, 1997 A.D.
"I remember the last time we stood together on these shores," said Watson Doyle, departing the Wilhelmina with a smart tap against its hull with his cane. The hatch slid closed behind him. "The question I asked, and the answer you gave. To this day, it fascinates me."
"I'm not especially in the mood, James," the Doctor responded shortly. He knew calling the master criminal by his given name – his real given name – would be sure to raise his ire, and this was an encounter he'd prefer to hasten as much as possible.
The sharp-dressed gentleman, however, simply strode forward, peering at the feral Vance with cool detachment. The Dog-Man whined, frightened by the strange human, and attempted to hide behind the Doctor's chassis.
"These…creatures. You knew that if you didn't take Moreau's place, they'd eventually revert. And everything they'd managed to build would be lost," he continued on, ignoring the scientist's obvious hostility. "Something you wouldn't have been able to accomplish without the Illuminati's resources."
A panel directly below the canister that housed the Doctor's brain, which'd remained in one orientation throughout the adventures of the past few days, flipped around to display its reverse side.
It was emblazoned with the mark of a pyramid, topped by a brightly shining eye.
"We have a comfortable relationship, James. I do my assignments for the Society like a good little lab rat – and otherwise, this Island is left alone," said the Doctor. "I don't see any reason for you to upset that balance."
"I'm afraid that ship has already sailed, my friend," Doyle told him, shaking his head pityingly. "It'd be one thing if your little scheme had involved only that peon Sevarius, and his merry bunch of chimerical creations. But whether intentionally or not, you also abducted Detective Elisa Maza, and Goliath of the Manhattan Clan. Two assets which've managed to capture Duval's personal attention."
"I made sure they were returned unharmed," the Doctor declared. "At great cost, I remind you."
The older man's lip curled upward.
"Yes, I suppose it all worked out," he remarked curtly. "If only by accident. It's really not like you to leave so many key variables to chance. What if our dear storyteller hadn't managed to bring back this wondrous machine, hmm? It'd be a fine mess if it fell into enemy hands."
He gestured again at the Wilhelmina, waving his cane grandly like a conductor leading an opera.
Two of the Doctor's tentacles tapped against the ground, his best way of expressing impatience.
"You assume much about my experimental parameters. But I may have a few more tools at my disposal than you seem to think," he said, before suddenly pointing all four claws toward a nearby pile of rubble. "You may as well come out now, child. You know there's no point in hiding from me."
From behind the wreckage of the city square, a lithe form slid along the ground, moving with catlike grace.
"Introduce yourself properly, Minerva," he ordered the Cheetah-Woman. "It's only polite."
Minerva coughed, drawing herself up to full height – which was well over seven feet.
Then, in a smooth voice that betrayed none of the stilted pronunciation she'd shown a few nights ago, she stated, "Thirty-six."
Doyle took a literal step back, looking truly surprised for the first time since touching down.
"Well now," he replied, folding both hands across each other and planting his cane square in the earth. "It seems your cat's paw is…remarkably literal."
"I made sure the gargoyle stayed alive on this Island. By any means necessary," Minerva explained. "Of course, I did truly hope he could help my brothers and sisters. I still hold out that someone can. But in the meantime…"
"In the meantime, you'll need help to rebuild. I understand," the gentleman interjected, nodding once. He extracted a pen and a ledger from his suit pocket. "Now, to business. Mr. Prendick, despite your recent…miscalculations, you're a single-digit member in good standing, and you've provided favors to the Upper Echelons on multiple occasions. I can appropriate for you…let's see, the equivalent of seventy million pounds. In whatever currency is most useful."
"Much as it pains my pride, I can't refuse the aid of the Illuminati's treasurer. I'll take it in rupees. Mr. Gisborne can supply most of what I'll need," said the Doctor. His words would've been punctuated with a sigh of resignation, if he still possessed lungs.
He had another request to make, though it pained him terribly to even consider it. Eventually, though, he added, "And…I could use a few of Tenzin's forces. Some of the Beast Folk can still be saved, but most are now too far gone. For the survival of those few I can help…their feral brethren must be put down."
Minerva's eyes were shimmering, but she did not contradict her creator.
"I'll pass along your request," whispered Doyle, the corner of his mouth twitching. "But you know that Tenzin's favors don't come cheap."
"Whatever it turns out to be, I can pay it," the Doctor answered immediately. "You know better than anyone, Mr. Doyle…that I am capable of anything."
"I find I cannot disagree with that assessment," said the other man – the so-called Napoleon of Crime. He was now walking toward the ruins of the Beast Folk City docks, which'd once fed hundreds with their bounty. "Now, if you'll excuse me. It appears my next appointment has arrived."
Emerging from the fog-strewn waters was what seemed to be an enormous, floating castle, approaching the Island's shores with no apparent method of propulsion. Minerva let out a low growl of surprise while Vance, back in the distance, barked madly, but the Doctor did not react.
At this point, it was a sight he'd seen quite often.
"Until next time, Mr. Prendick. M'lady," spoke Doyle, tipping his head to Minerva. "I wish you all the best. We'll be in touch about the particulars, once I free up the allocated funds."
None of them said another word until Watson Doyle had boarded the steps of Castle Carbonek, and disappeared into the cold, dark night.
Eventually, however, Minerva found herself asking, "Doctor…what do we do now?"
The Doctor didn't hesitate to answer. He floated away from the shoreline and began tossing away larger pieces of rubble with his tentacles, in the narrow possibility he might find a few straggling survivors.
"We do what we can," he said. "My children deserve more than that, of course. But it's all that's in my power to give."
He used one claw to beckon her to follow, and the Cheetah-Woman hastened to comply.
"After all, I am not Moreau. I am no worker of miracles," he continued on, and not for the first time, he was very glad he no longer held the capacity to cry. "I am merely a Doctor."
[-]
The Labyrinth, New York City
June 9, 1997 A.D.
"Now that you've delivered, I'm afraid it may be some time before your hormone imbalance resolves itself. There's a sharp drop in progesterone that accompanies childbirth, and it can take six to eight weeks before everything evens out," spoke a cool, professional female voice. "In the meantime, side effects can include fatigue, increased susceptibility to infection, and menstrual issues."
These were the first words that Elisa heard as she reentered the Labyrinth's makeshift maternity ward. The source was a Japanese-American woman in a lab coat and horn-rimmed spectacles, who looked to be in her late twenties.
"So…nothing I haven't faced before, then," said Maggie, cracking a tired but genuine smile.
"That's certainly the spirit I'd like you to have," the doctor replied with a chuckle. She then turned to Elisa and bowed her head. "Kyoko Shirakawa, obstetrician. Jay – that is, Doctor Sato – told me a great deal about you all."
"Considering he's seen the inside of my guts, I hope he didn't go into too much detail," Elisa couldn't help herself from joking. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you. Good to know my sis-in-law's in capable hands."
"It's certainly been…ahem…a challenge. Sometimes I can still scarcely believe it myself," declared Doctor Shirakawa. "You should've seen my face the day Jay explained the nature of his 'consult.' I thought he was intoxicated at first!"
The three women shared a brief laugh, before the smile fell away from Maggie's face, and her voice lowered.
"Doctor Shirakawa…" she whispered, tugging on the woman's coat sleeve. "I know I've asked this about a hundred other things. But the hormone issue…you're sure it won't be affected by my…my…"
The Japanese-American woman sighed. "I suppose there's no real way to be certain. We're dabbling in aspects of medical science that no one else has even attempted," she said, her words kind but also brutally honest. "What I can tell you is that from every test I just ran, you and Thom are both perfectly healthy. And I'll be stopping by nightly for the next couple of weeks, just to make sure."
"You're too kind," Maggie told the other woman, hanging her head slightly. "I know you have a full load of patients at your day job. And it's not like we have any money to offer you."
"Well, I can't pretend I don't miss the sleep. But please, don't worry about it," responded Doctor Shirakawa. "I went into obstetrics for a reason: because nothing makes me happier than seeing the warm glow of a new parent. And between you and my other patients…there isn't a single difference on that front."
"Have you ever felt that glow?" asked Maggie, before turning aside and frowning. "Err…sorry if that's too personal."
The doctor didn't look offended – but she did seem a bit sad. "Biology…wound up not being very cooperative, in my case," she murmured, her fingers briefly brushing her stomach. "We considered adoption, but right now the law isn't being all that cooperative, either. I'm not going to be a mother if the State of New York won't let my partner do the same."
Neither of the others were sure exactly what to say. A few seconds later, though, Maggie stated, "Derek and I are planning to get married sometime soon. But I doubt the state's going to recognize that one, either."
"Marriage is…wow, that's a little way's off," said Elisa, grimacing a bit. "But no way is mine going to be legal. Eight-foot-tall stone statues can't exactly walk up to city hall and demand a marriage license."
The trio of young women looked at each other for a moment. Then, they burst out laughing again, this time much harder.
"Now I'm thinking we should start a support group," added the detective. "Welcome to our world, doc. It only gets weirder from here."
"Oddly enough, I'm actually looking forward to it. Though I don't know how 'normal' I ever was. The family I left back home – let's just say, they were in an…unusual line of work," answered Doctor Shirakawa, as she began collecting her things and rose to her feet. "Now, I'll leave you folks to your business. I have to be back at Manhattan General by eight, so I should probably get in at least a few hours."
"Thank you again, doctor," Maggie breathed out, clasping briefly at the other woman's fingers. "For everything."
The obstetrician bowed her head again, even more deeply. "Really, it was nothing," she said. "After all, from everything you just told me…it's not like I had to do much to avoid being the worst doctor involved with this delivery!"
They shared one last chuckle, and then the bespectacled woman was gone.
Several moments passed in silence as the remaining two women were left alone – Thom still having somehow managed to sleep through all the commotion.
"I know some people say the best way to tire out a crying child is to take them on a drive," remarked Maggie, after some time had passed. "I guess a mysterious, supersonic flying machine counts too."
Elisa let out a lengthy sigh. "Mysterious is right," she muttered, reclining back in her chair. "Maybe I should be used to it by now, but there's still so much about that last adventure we don't know. What Moreau really wanted. Who, if anyone, he was working for. Why he let us go so easily…"
"Erm…that was easy?" asked Maggie, raising her brow.
The detective shrugged one shoulder. "Well, comparatively," she said.
Another period of silence fell over them. When Maggie broke it again, her voice was far quieter, barely even audible.
"Elisa…about why I asked you to come here…" she mumbled, without making eye contact.
The other woman nodded, immediately giving the lioness-mutate her undivided attention. Maggie reached beneath her pillow and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"I…wrote this right after we landed. Before everyone else showed up," she went on, her lip quivering slightly. "We don't exactly get mail service down here, so…umm…"
"Sure. I can add a stamp and stick it in the box," Elisa cut in, when Maggie didn't continue. "But can I ask what it is?"
The mutate still avoided her gaze, clutching Thom close to her chest. But eventually, in a tiny voice, she said, "It's…to my mom."
Elisa tensed up, remembering what Maggie had told her a couple nights ago. Before all this craziness went down.
"You said you hadn't spoken for a while," she recalled out loud, placing a comforting hand on the other woman's furred shoulder. "That she didn't know about…"
"About this. That's right," Maggie cut her off. "When I left…I said some awful things. Unforgivable things. I was lashing out, and trying to hurt her the worst way I could."
She placed a hand across her face, burying her eyes in it. "For a while, I decided it was best to leave things like that. She wouldn't have a daughter to miss that way," she gasped, through a choked sob. "But…now I see that I was kidding myself. She's the only part of my old family I have left. And…"
Maggie raised her son up to eye-level, before finishing, "And she deserves to know my new one just got a little bigger."
Suddenly, without any warning, Thom's tiny eyes shot open, and he began wailing at the top of his lungs.
"Now's when he wakes up?!" Maggie exclaimed incredulously, but Elisa couldn't keep from chuckling a bit. Gently, she took the folded-up letter from the other woman's fingers.
"Don't worry. I've got this," she said. "Trust me…no matter how badly you two fought, your mom's gonna forgive you. I know from experience."
"I don't know about forgiveness," whispered Maggie, as she began to slowly rock her baby back and forth. "But I've decided to tell her everything. Or as much of it as she'll understand, at least. We…We'll see where it goes from there."
"Well, you know what they say. No man is an island. Or…woman, in this case," Elisa told her soothingly. "The point is, you have all of us to count on. Derek. Me. The gargoyles. The rest of the mutates. And so many others. We all have your back on this."
Maggie blinked tears away from her eyes, and leaned forward – balancing the crying Thom in one arm, so she could use the other for an awkward half-hug.
"Thank you, Elisa," she choked out, carefully stroking her son across the cheek. "God…if there's one thing I'm grateful for…"
Her fur seemed to tickle him, and after a while his wails turned into giggling coos.
"It's that it's good to be home."
NEVER THE END…