26: A Night in the Park
Another night, another unpleasant wake-up call. Goliath found himself in the back of a moving van, tied up yet again, flanked by two of Korily's associates. This included the burly one, Harcos, and another one of a slightly slimmer, yet still imposing, frame. This one, Goliath learned, was named Bontas. Both watched him with careful, disdainful expressions. The van's rear section was a little tight for them all, even more so with Korily standing in front of him. The windows at the back showed little but darkness outside, along with the odd flash of a streetlight.
"Rise and shine," Korily said, mouth forming into a malicious smirk. He bared his pointed teeth for a moment, as if something amusing had just crossed his mind. Goliath, on his knees in the middle of the van's rear section, could feel a slight twinge at the back of his neck. The implant again, and he saw Korily thumbing the remote in one hand. He was reminding Goliath who had the power here, a thought that infuriated the gargoyle to no end.
"The moon is out, the skies are dark and the animals are coming out," Korily added. One hand gripped a handle near the ceiling, allowing him to keep his footing as the clunky old van trundled along. "We're on our way to the meeting area. We're going to drop you off. The ear-piece we have thoughtfully placed in your right ear will enable us to remain in contact."
Goliath could feel it there, something small just inside his ear. Not unlike the devices he had worn years before, whilst out prowling the city streets at night. Back then, there would be someone on the other end guiding him to the next spot of trouble, usually Lexington or Elisa. Now, he would have the voice of this creature commanding him in what Goliath surmised was an elaborate setup. They would use him and dispose of him; he had no illusions about that. And with the implant in his neck, he did not know how he might get away. Something would come up, some opportunity would make itself known, it always did. For the sake of his son and for his mate, he had to find a way out of the clutches of these monsters. These 'imps', even if that descriptor was a little ill-fitting.
"You sure about this?" It was the other one who asked this, the one named Bontas. His features were a little chunkier, his skin slightly darker than that of Korily. He was wearing a thick black jacket, complete with a bandolier that was crammed full of shotgun shells. A few very obvious grenades had been slipped amongst them as well. "You say he's dangerous. We should just waste him and dump him in the bay."
"We don't waste talent," Korily replied, eyeing his brother with a frown. "Goliath will play ball. The life of his human mate and their son hangs in the balance." He turned back to Goliath then, offering him yet another smug smile. "Isn't that right, Goliath?"
"When this is over—" Goliath began, but Korily was quick to interrupt.
"When this is over, you won't do a thing because you'll have lost and we'll have what we need," the imp stated rapidly. "Spare me the bravado. So many people are like that, and I just don't get it. Here you are, at our mercy, and you threaten us as if you think it will make us quake in fear." He leaned forwards, bringing his face a little closer to Goliath's own. Had Goliath's hands been free, he would have reached out and snapped the wretched creature's neck. The thought was a tantalising one, even if he was not entirely sure just how strong Korily was. Could these creatures match a gargoyle's raw strength? They certainly appeared intimidating enough, especially Bontas and Harcos. Goliath was keen to find out, for the more he knew about them the better his chances of beating them.
"It won't, by the way," Korily added. The van swung around the corner, with the three imps keeping their footing despite the sharp turn. "We own you, Goliath. Deep down, you know this. After all the trouble we went through to find you, did you honestly think that we would just kill you? I don't waste talent. You're talented, your records make that clear. And your son, well, I like to think he has some hidden talents of his own. Not that you'd really know about that, since from my understanding you haven't been the most lovable father?"
Goliath went to lunge then, only for the vice-like grips of both Harcos and Bontas to snap out and force him to his knees. His eyes flared white, his teeth bared, and a low growl escaped his throat. Korily stood upright, looking satisfied.
"Yes, that's it. The fire I've been looking for. Exactly what we need." He looked ahead to the driver. Goliath turned his head, seeing a distinctly human form in black tactical gear. The man's features were masked under a tactical balaclava and tinted goggles, covering any hint of his identity. He was most likely just another hired gun, much the same as the ones who had attacked his home in Vermont.
"How much further?" Korily asked the driver.
"Right around the corner," the driver replied, and appropriately he swung the van around another bend. Easing off the accelerator and braking slowly, he brought the van to a gradual halt. Goliath could not see much through the windscreen from where he was, save for the streetlights and part of one of the surrounding office buildings. The digital clock on the car's dashboard told him that it was ten o'clock in the evening, which suggested that he had been tranquilized yet again until minutes ago. How many nights had he lost because of Korily so far? All that time gone, time he could have spent searching for his son and for Elisa. She had been with Korily, as vulnerable in the creature's clutches as he had been. He had to find her, no matter what it took to do so.
Korily moved to the rear doors then, grabbing the handle there before flinging them open. Without preamble, both Harcos and Bontas dragged him to the threshold. A cool breeze wafted on inside, the street beyond quiet and flanked by squat offices and old tenements. No pedestrians were present, not right outside anyway, yet he could hear the familiar sounds of traffic floating on the air from nearby streets.
"Should be a familiar neighbourhood for you, Goliath." Korily moved aside. Harcos had pulled a knife, Goliath realised, and with it he slashed the ropes keeping his hands and legs bound together.
As soon as they were free, he looked to Korily, anger flaring. The remote was in his hand still, and he held it up in a taunting, mocking fashion. A stab of pain shot down Goliath's spine, enough to make him grunt and keel forwards. Harcos and Bontas gave him a hard shove from behind, sending him sprawling out of the back of the van. He landed on the asphalt outside spread-eagled on the side of the road, his body still tingling from the brief flash of agony it had just experienced. Korily grabbed the open van doors, offering Goliath one last look before he closed them.
"Get to the Korean War Memorial." he called. "Be quick about it. We won't be too far away." With that said, he pulled the doors closed. The van's engine roared into gear, before it went screeching down the curving street, leaving a pair of short skid marks in its wake. Goliath groggily rose to his feet, his head pounding and his limbs feeling oddly weak after so much time spent inactive. Finding himself on the side of a road, he looked about the street in closer detail, recognizing the neighbourhood immediately.
Southern Manhattan, near Battery park. He had been by here many times during his years living in Manhattan, and he knew of the landmark Korily had spoken of. The park was across the street, quiet at this late hour. The waterfront was close, and Goliath could smell it on the air, that familiar scent of the not-so-clean waters that surrounded New York City. It was a smell that brought with it all manner of memories, including a few that had involved him getting wet in those very waters.
His wings felt a little limp, so he flexed them and stretched his arms as he crossed the street. It irked him to be used like this. And when his purpose was fulfilled, Korily would simply kill him. Elisa too, if they did not have other things in mind for her. The thought of her being in the clutches of these creatures made him sick to the stomach. He had to find her, save her from those vile imps. And Vincent as well, yet he knew that they had other, less clear plans for his son.
He wondered if Brooklyn was all right, if he had even survived the fight at the house in Vermont. The same went for his Detective companion, who had reminded Goliath of Elisa in some small ways. Brooklyn had presumably noticed the similarities himself. The two were friends, although Goliath had sensed the potential for something more.
The park was lit by the odd lamp set alongside the main footpaths. Goliath darted through it, hurrying over to the Korean War Memorial. Here, not far from the water's edge, was a tall, solid monument made from polished granite. It had a vaguely trapezoid shape, albeit tall enough to look somewhat rectangular. Cut in the centre of it was the silhouette of a soldier, a general representation of those who had fought in that war seventy years previously. Along the base were small images of the flags of the many nations who had taken part, with the United States and South Korean flags displayed most prominently. The whole thing was bathed in the subdued, white-toned glow of a nearby lamp. The water beyond was still, with the lights from the distant docks and even further buildings reflected upon its darkened surface.
The road nearby was quiet. Judging from the red and yellow signs and traffic cones scattered about, it appeared to be closed for roadworks. Goliath wandered up to the memorial, stepping into the light of the solitary lamp. The old sandstone fort of Castle Clinton was further along, illuminated only from the light of the moon. All in all, the place was quiet, oddly so for New York City.
Goliath noticed a few hoodlum types hanging about the edge of the park. They were dressed in somewhat baggy gear, smoking self-rolled cigarettes and downing liquor straight from the bottles. For now, none of that unsavoury group had noticed him. That was bound to change the longer he stayed out here.
"Goliath?" A man's voice, and it was one he recognized. It took him a moment to dredge up the appropriate memories, and he turned to the source as the identity of the voice's owner came upon him.
The man he saw was dressed in a light grey jacket, his hair close-cropped and flecked with grey. Part of it still retained its more youthful brown-red colour, and his eyes were a light hazel. He emerged from the shadows around the memorial like a phantom.
"Matt Bluestone?" Goliath had not seen the former Detective for many years. For some time, he had worked as Elisa's partner on the police force. Evidently, things had changed and the intervening years had taken their toll on him. For one, he appeared positively weary, eyes underlaid with hefty bags. He wore a stubble that had to be at least four days old, which only added to his overall unkempt appearance. There was an uneasy edge to his demeanour, and Goliath noticed how the man's eyes darted about carefully, as if he was searching for signs of trouble.
"That's me," he said, as he approached the gargoyle. Matt had his hands in his jacket pockets, holding it close against him despite the warmth of the summer night. "I'm glad you remember me. It's been a while."
"Indeed it has." Goliath wanted to warn him of what he had walked into. However, he heard Korily's voice cut into his thoughts through in the earpiece, catching him off-guard.
"Not a word, Goliath. Hear him out. He has something we need."
"Something wrong?" Matt had apparently noticed Goliath's unease. The gargoyle said nothing and only shook his head.
"I didn't think you'd come out here in person," Matt added. "I know you're taking an even greater risk than I am."
"You have something for me, Detective?" Goliath spoke carefully, trying not to say anything his captors may construe as out-of-turn. Yet, at the same time, he needed to do something to let him know that all was not right. Some small sign that would suggest to him it was best to turn around and leave.
"Not Detective anymore, I'm afraid. I kind of got sacked after Devil's Night." He shrugged. "A lot of things changed after that."
"For all of us," Goliath added, wistfully.
"It's taken me a long time, but I think we have a chance now," Matt said suddenly, apparently keen to get onto the topic of the meeting. "If you can get the clan together, we can take the fight to them."
"To who?"
It was then that Matt frowned, eyes widening with worry. Goliath realised that he had just said the wrong thing.
"What do you mean? The Illuminati, who else?" He met with Goliath's eyes, and he saw from the gargoyle's remorseful look that something was amiss.
"Wrong question, Goliath." Korily's voice, smarmy as ever. Goliath did not give him a chance to add anything further, as he reached to his ear and plucked out the small communications device. He threw it to the ground and crushed it under one clawed foot.
"Get out of here, Matt. Things are not—" The pain that hit him then was excruciating, and his sentence turned into a howl as his entire body seemed to burn from within. He collapsed to his knees, muscles tightening, all while something akin to a red-hot metal poker twisted inside his skull and down his spine. Matt knelt before him, genuine worry on his features.
"What is it?" He asked him. "What's wrong?"
"Go, Matt…" Goliath fell forwards, catching himself on his hands, gritting his teeth as the agony flared up again. Through it, he heard the van screeching to a halt nearby. Another one, this one black in colour, pulled to a halt further along the bend. Matt looked up, hearing the vehicles arrive. Abruptly, the pain surging through Goliath's body ceased, and he was able to regain his senses enough to realise that something else had gone wrong, something not related to Korily.
Harcos and Bontas stepped into view at the edge of the park, their faces concealed under black hockey masks. Both were armed, and both appeared in the light of the streetlamps close to where the trio of young gangsters were loitering.
"Hey, yo, what the fuck…" One of the young street thugs was able to rattle off his surprise, but he was not given a chance to finish his exclamation. The cough of a silenced pistol put him down, with Harcos planting two rapid shots into his chest. The third went straight into his head, all while the other two hoodlums got up and started to run, throwing their liquor and their cigarettes aside. Harcos and Bontas cut them all down in seconds, the bodies of the street hoods landing spread-eagled on the footpath, blood pooling around them.
The ruthless pair strode confidently across the park towards Goliath. Matt stood up, his hand reaching into his jacket. He pulled a small pistol from within, yet before he could raise it the two imps had opened fire, sending a good three shots into his chest that sent him falling next to Goliath. The gargoyle became dimly aware of one of Matt's hands grasping for him, yet he could not focus easily, his body still burning from the latest bout of pain.
From the second van, a trio of armed and very human figures came storming out. Goliath, his senses still rattled, turned to watch as this trio directed their attention towards the two imps. Armed with submachine guns fitted with silencers, they started shooting without even announcing themselves. They were not cops from the look of it. All three were outfitted in thick grey urban-tinted tactical gear. MAC-11 machine pistols were carried by each, thick bulky silencers fitted to the barrels. These guns fired in quick, rapid bursts. Bullets whizzed by the two startled imps, as they turned around to face these interlopers. The trio moved in deftly, spreading out and hosing down the imps before they could open fire. Both Bontas and Harcos immediately turned tail and ran, booking it back for the van. Goliath saw them each take a few hits, yet they remained moving despite these injuries, barely flinching from the impacts of each. They practically threw themselves into the back of the waiting van, which took off suddenly, leaving the scene of the crime well behind.
"Goliath…" Matt's voice was weak. He had something in his hand. Goliath saw the offered palm and the small, rectangular object upon it. The gargoyle reached out, taking the human's hand in his own, watching the light in his eyes fade as his life rapidly left him. Blood stained the front of Matt's jacket and shirt, all while it slowly pooled around him. Goliath felt a growing anger then, seeing this waste of life and how he had, in some integral way, been party to it.
Suddenly, Goliath was set upon by the three interlopers. One of them put aside his gun and withdrew a long, black metal rod with a glowing tip. A shock prod of sorts, and he placed it against the back of Goliath's neck. There was a flare of excruciating pain then, causing him to once again fall to all fours, muscles spasming. A voice sounded from nearby, one he found to be familiar, yet through the agony he could not place it.
"Make sure it's shorted completely." Now that figure emerged from the dark, appearing in the similarly phantasmal way Matt had earlier. A distinctly gargoyle figure, Goliath saw, with green-brown skin and a set of snug black shorts around his waist.
Something gave at Goliath's neck and the prod was retracted, the pain ceasing suddenly. Goliath groaned, his arms shaking under him before he rolled upon his side and tried, somewhat futilely, to regain his senses once again. His vision was blurred, his gaze going to the one who stood over him. Another familiar face, and before he lost consciousness an overwhelming sense of recognition flood him.
"Lexington?"