Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's "Gargoyles".
Beated by: Zim'smostloyalervant, Trackula, and another.
Author's Note: Turns out being productive in writing is coping mechanism. Enjoy the ride on a silver lining.
Chapter 11
Secrets and Monsters (Part 1)
Maggie flapped alone over Manhattan, eyes regularly moving from the city below to the horizon. As eager as she had been to start some training, Hudson told her not to rush in until after she was fully recovered from being thrown around by Coldstone. Just some bruises; she was not Gargoyle tough, but she could take more than a human, she knew. But Hudson was firm, so she was on patrol and just about due to meet up with the rest of the Clan to patrol as a group for a stretch.
She was running late, as the night had not been quiet. Literally, as she had taken more to using her ears to detect crimes on low flights, or when landing to dart over roofs with wing-assisted running along them.
This time it was a mugging, easily scared off with her just roaring out of sight. A burglar, sneak up on him as he forced entry, grab him and toss him aside. All it took was a swipe then for the man to wet himself and run off, leaving her a replacement crowbar in the bargain. And a cliche burlap sack she'd taken along because hey, sacks were useful.
The carjacking had been the most notable, two men with hoodies and scarves to actually cover their faces. So they knew what they were doing. One had run, the driver had gunned it out of there. But the one she had tackled to announce herself had pulled a gun as she watched his friend bolt.
He had missed. Elisa had told her most criminals were poor shots. Guns, handguns in particular, were not very accurate; it took training to get good and stay good at marksmanship. Elisa cited her partner Matt Bluestone as the best shot she knew, having been able to hit a Steel Clan robot in flight with his sidearm. But most criminals hardly ever practiced at a shooting range in the first place. Plus, bullets cost money. So, while never forget the gun was dangerous, deny them a good shot, and in Gargoyle style keep them nervous and from thinking clearly, and guns could be beaten.
He'd been no exception, two shots then she knocked him onto his stomach and kicked the gun from his hand. When he ran, she'd taken the gun. She couldn't break it like Broadway and the others had taken to doing. But she had been taught how to take them apart, which she did as she walked over to a trashcan, dumping the parts into it save a few which she chucked down a storm drain. One less gun on the streets.
So, it had been a good night, with one minor scare. No phantom stalker, too. So things were back to normal? Maybe it had just been her imagination, or Demona had been the one stalking her that night?
Anyway, where was everyone, had they been delayed by something? Closing her eyes, Maggie heard gunfire.
Balling her hands into fists, Maggie's paced flapping increased into the equivalent of running. And soon enough, she spotted the relevant rooftop. The airship made it clear the one she needed even beyond the sounds of battle. She recognized it from description, too.
The Pack. The cliche TV show she'd hated. What terrible acting; it still riled up her theater-loving self that they'd ever been considered a big deal. Even before she learned they were criminals, that show had been a crime to actors. And more importantly, Lexington hated them, and Goliath had strictly told her to never engage them alone; they were a threat that called for the Clan's group effort.
Well that was irrelevant, the battle had already started between Clan and Pack.
As she watched, Broadway took a hit from a grapple gun, but as she reached the rooftop he stood back up, clearly more angry at Jackal than hurt, and slapping the gun away, knocked the mercenary to the ground and began to lay into him.
Next, she saw Wolf standing over a stunned Brooklyn, raising his foot to stomp on the Gargoyle's head. With a roar, Maggie flapped a final time, raising arms surging with electricity to slam into the big human with the terrible haircut. Wolf cried out in pain while Maggie kept going, taking the momentum on all fours. Using a piece of ventilation, she turned and sprang off it to come at Wolf again, who was on his feet quicker than she'd expect a human who got hit like that. She took a swipe at his face, claws out.
He was quick enough to step back, but her claws still tore into his cheek, and she was sure something else gave way. A gunshot going between them made her back off as Wolf grabbed his face in pain and fury.
"What the heck? Since when do they have a sheila?" the gunman, Dingo, said as Maggie took cover near him.
"Did I just get scratched by a cat?!" Wolf roared, pulling his hands from his bleeding face. Hyena landed at his feet, awake but scratched up and breathing hard as she got up.
"Well, this is going down the crapper, ain't it?" Dingo said, and Maggie flinched as something landed next to her. A grenade, she saw. She ran, the explosion sending her tumbling into the air.
Blinking away the smoke as her ears rang, she heard something horrible. Had she blacked out for a second from the noise?
Turning, she saw Goliath screaming. Not in anger, but agony as electricity arced over him horribly. The smell of burned pork and smoldering hair came back to her, and she couldn't move even as the great Gargoyle fell limply to the rooftop.
"They're getting away!" Lexington called out, jogging her a bit from the memory.
She watched the door to the airship close and its engine power on. Lexington went past her toward the ship. She grabbed him by the shoulder before she'd gotten fully to her feet.
"Maggie?"
"Enough, Lex, helping Goliath is more important than capturing them," Maggie said, regaining her composure.
"Besides, look at this, they left their loot," Broadway said, nudging the gold and cash leaking from a broken duffel bag, "This was a defeat for those losers."
Lex growled as the Pack's airship rose through the sky, but nodded as they moved to join Brooklyn and examine Goliath.
X X X
"We should have stood our ground, finished them off!" Wolf ranted as the airship made its escape through the skies of Manhattan. His left cheek and ear were already patched crudely, the bindings dying red from the cuts below. Not that it was slowing him down.
"Oh stuff it, even without that garg sheila showing up, it was time to get while the getting was good," Dingo said as he piloted the craft.
"Define good," Jackal cursed from the cockpit, wincing as Hyena bound his chest against his own wounds.
"Yeah hairball, as it is, Dingo was the only one to get away with the money. This heist was supposed to show our chops and fill our pockets. Now we'll be lucky to break even."
"With Goliath down, we could have-" Wolf roared, before a knocking came at the hatch. A glance to the cockpit area by the three confirmed they were still cruising over the city.
"Anyone order a pizza?" Jackal sneered.
"Well, looks like it's time for round two anyway," Wolf growled, grabbing a gun and making his way to the hatch, while Hyena slipped on her claws and deftly moved to flank the hatch. Dingo grumbled under his breath while the downed Jackal pulled himself into a sitting position.
With a gust of wind, Wolf opened the hatch, gun bared and ready to fire.
Instead, the brute stepped back in shock. Instead of an angry Gargoyle, a head floated in on a metal apparatus. A head that half showed the face of David Xanatos, and beyond a ragged seam showed a metal skull with a glowing electric eye right out of Terminator.
"May I come in?" Coyote asked his former teammates.
X X X
Getting a Gargoyle anywhere was not easy when they were insensible. Much less by air, and certainly not someone as big as Goliath. Even with the four of them, since they could only have so many close to him with the need for wings extended.
Maggie ended up being one of the two, with Broadway taking the other arm. While Broadway was stronger, she had the advantage of her wings actually being able to try and compensate for the extra weight with her flapping.
Goliath came to on the way, but they outvoted him to not risk gliding on his own.
Hudson, in his old veteran senses, had sensed something was wrong and was waiting for them.
Maggie petted an anxious Bronx, and Hudson performed field medicine on Goliath, cleaning the burns and cuts from the strange grenade and applying the disinfectant before binding the leader's torso. Lexington was assisting him, having been called to the task, while Broadway hovered, anxiously eating a sandwich.
"It could have gone bad if you hadn't shown up, Maggie," Brooklyn said as Maggie crouched by Bronx, shifting to scratching his ears.
"I didn't do much," Maggie said.
"No, you cut up Wolf's face with that attack. And the Pack were surprised to see you. If they'd kept up fighting after Goliath went down, it could have gotten nasty."
"Yeah, instead they just got away. Goliath's done," Lexington grumbled, joining them.
It was odd seeing the good-natured smallest Gargoyle so worked up. But Maggie had been told how he had been manipulated by the Pack, who he had idolized, not truly understanding their heroics were fiction. It was odd to think they'd be so naive, but she supposed entertainment was not as convincing as today back in the Dark Ages.
And then Brooklyn's grudge with Demona. Maybe it was a Gargoyle thing; betrayal stung more than with humans because of how honorable they were. But then, if the Doctor were still alive…
"I will be fine. I got careless," Goliath said, drawing her attention.
"Not to my hearing. Battle is a chancy thing; Dingo seems like he got a proper hit on ya, blow to the back is part of battle," Hudson said, shaking his head, "It could have been worse, it only takes one bad roll of the dice, lad. I don't like to talk like this, but it's time you choose a second-in-command."
Maggie and the others drew close as Hudson spoke. Maggie knew what was unsaid in that. Second-in-command wasn't just a matter of hierarchy. It was the heir apparent to leadership in the Clan. Demona had held the post before everything went wrong at Wyvern, and the post had been vacant since.
Goliath rumbled, and laid his hand over Hudson's as he sat on the recliner.
"If the day comes I cannot lead, you shall, my friend," he said. Hudson shook the hand off with a sound of mild disgust.
"You were my second and I passed the mantle to you. There's no sense in you returning it. Definitely not when you have fine young warriors to choose from. And choose you must," Hudson insisted. Goliath did not answer, looking ahead with grim resolve, but it wasn't like he would choose tonight, so everyone peeled off to their own activities.
For Maggie's part, she grabbed a mop to start cleaning the part of the tower floor her schedule marked next for tidying on. Filling the bucket, she turned to face Brooklyn, who she had heard come over.
"Yes?" she asked.
"So, any ideas who he might pick?" Brooklyn asked. Maggie frowned; she was trying to get busy to avoid the thought of Goliath dying.
"No," she said shortly, plunging her mop into the bucket and swiping a bit of floor between them with the sudsy water before heading to the corner to work her way out.
X X X
The Pack had parked their aircraft in the bay, one of the many features that had let them evade the law all this time.
Coyote had set himself down on the steel table bolted down in the center of the conference area of the airship, the Pack gathered around save for Jackal, who could only rise on his elbows to glare at the robot head.
"So, what crap heap did you crawl out of, tin man?" the mercenary snarked. His twin lightly hit him on the shoulder.
"Ease up there, brother, let's hear what ol' Coyote has to say," the violent woman said, calmer than usual. Coyote gave a smile with the human half of his face.
"Thank you, Hyena. As you might have guessed, I am here to once more offer my aid against the Gargoyles."
Wolf reached down and with ease, tore Coyote from the flight harness he had arrived in, ignoring the sparking wires trailing from the robot's neck.
"Forget it, Sparky. We don't need handouts from a guy who doesn't even have hands. Hope you can swim." Coyote looked unimpressed, even as he was held helpless in the large man's grasp.
"Suit yourself, Wolf, but it is such a shame to see your efforts against Goliath's clan fall short when you have so many resources at your disposal," Coyote said, as Wolf made his way to the door. Dingo put a hand on Wolf's shoulder, and when Wolf turned took the robot head from him, holding it to look him in the eyes.
"We're listening. What resources, mate?" the mohawked Australian asked.
"A bit closer to that screen, and I can do more than merely tell you, if you please," Coyote replied. Even as Wolf frowned, Dingo complied, moving next to a monitor on the wall. The screen flicked to life and began to play a video along with Coyote's narration.
"The Pack is a formidable group, but testing has shown it has sadly fallen behind in the martial competition to Gargoyle might. But civilization has long made it a priority to correct deficiencies against nature's mischief. For instance, have you considered the bounty of genetic engineering? Xanatos Enterprises has, and taken it from theory, to fact, to production line. Though perhaps you find genetics a tad too unpredictable. Cybernetics might be more your style, tool and weapon use integrated into the body as the logical next step to armament. Though they also say clothes make the man. Our power armor can make a contender out of most anyone, and a champion out of a contender with neither scalpel nor needle needed. And last but certainly not least, the boundless glory of robotics."
"Tch, save the Sci-Fi Channel bunk for Halloween, Coyote. But that armor is sharp, real Iron Man stuff. Assuming you're being on the level," Dingo warned.
"Please, false advertising is for hacks who can't perform the basic task of producing products of actual quality. Xanatos Enterprises stands by all its products as presented."
"Xanatos, eh? What's his angle?" Wolf demanded.
"No angle, straight forward mutual enmity. Thus far, our domestic force has not performed to expectations, so outside contracting is simply another means of problem solving. They have the power but lack the skills, whereas you have the skills but seem unable to bridge the species gap. Simple, wouldn't you agree? So why not help each other?"
"Makes sense to me," Hyena grinned. Jackal smiled, putting a hand to the bandages on his chest.
"I, for one, am getting tired of taking the Gargoyles' punishment. About time I started being able to give some back. Where do I sign?"
Wolf scowled, looking to the robot head.
"If this deal is so good, why'd Xanatos send you as messenger boy? Why not come to us himself?"
"Because, Wolf, Mr. Xanatos is a very, very, busy man," Coyote answered.
X X X
Derek Maza couldn't remember the last time he was invited to smoke. His mother had been very clear she'd have none of her children on tobacco, no matter how old they were. And frankly, his mother could scare him even more than the high school crowd calling him chicken.
So here he was, with an unlit cigar clenched between his feline teeth, hoping he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt. As it was, he was shaking his head to turn down the ignited lighter Owen Burnett was offering him. The blonde aide raised an eyebrow, somehow looking as composed as ever as he smoked his own cigar.
"Hey boss, you not lighting up?" Frank asked. The men of the Pride had been called to this conference room by Mr. Xanatos, who had presented them with a wooden box of cigars ad a bit of big news — David Xanatos was going to be a father. The man himself was leaning next to the whiteboard, looking more pensive than usual, with his own cigar being twirled in his hand idly.
"I don't smoke. I broke these out for tradition's sake. Might as well make it memorable," the wealthy man said.
That made Derek feel better, and likewise take his cigar out and just hold it at his side.
"That's a shame, this is great stuff! Makes my cigarettes back in the day look like crap," Frank said, puffing happily into the air.
"These are fine Cohiba from Cuba, I should hope so," Burnett remarked drily.
Frank whistled and elbowed Klaus, who was looking a bit sick, attending to his own tobacco.
"Real stogies for us, eh? Now that's the good life there. Unless you're stick in the mud Derek Maza," Frank laughed.
"I don't smoke, I just took it to be polite."
"What about you, Georgie boy?" Frank asked the tiger man. Giorgios pulled his cigar from his mouth with a certain ease, and blew a smoke ring into the air.
"Now there's a guy who knows what he's doing!" Frank laughed.
"I had my first when one of my cousins was born," Giorgios remarked.
"Hey boss, I know it's too much to ask for something this rich when the ladies go pop, but just plain ol' Americano smokes, could you swing that?"
"What?" Derek asked.
"Smokes for when the girls have kittens, Big D. No official word from Doc just yet, but she says all the plumbing is in order for us and, well, the ladies certainly are quenching their thirst. But hey, that's cats for ya, right?" Frank laughed, taking a drag from his cigar.
"Seriously? I knew stuff was going on, but you should be taking precautions," Derek snapped.
"Girls didn't want to. Maybe the new bodies come with a heck of a maternal instinct, or it's the near death bit, but they both want the litters, D. Well, it's not my place to judge, and I'm willing to donate toward this worthy cause," Frank declared, hiking up his belt slightly, while clenching the cigar in his teeth.
"Haven't you thought about children born like this?! Even when a cure comes, will it work right for someone born like this? They'd live as monsters," Derek growled.
"As someone not interested in a cure I'm getting a bit offended by your attitude, D," Frank said, pulling out his cigar, reduced to a stub, and flicking it away. Derek felt his own get crushed in his hand. He turned his attention to Mr. Xanatos, who was watching, having not moved from his spot by the board.
"Sir, can you really be okay with this?" Derek demanded. Xanatos raised a eyebrow and frowned slightly.
"Derek, really? I certainly did not order them to have children, but it's not my place to tell them they can't. I'm a bit of a feminist that way, I suppose," Xanatos remarked.
"Ha! He's got you there, D," Frank cackled, stepping over to the cigar box on the table and selecting another. While Frank made a show of sniffing the cigar, Derek looked to the others. Klaus didn't meet his eyes, Giorgios met his gaze briefly before getting quite interested in the floor tile, and gave a slight shake of his head. Enrique, the twins' father, was seemingly not even listening, just sitting at the table, a cigar set aside.
"Unbelievable," Derek grumbled, before turning and storming out.
Shortly After Sunrise:
"Oh crap," Maggie cursed, standing in the magic room. One distinctly lacking magic. The talismans were all gone!
"How? Demona and Macbeth!" Maggie answered her own question, slamming a fist onto the doorframe.
Of course, they'd had time to drag Coldstone out of here, it'd be easy enough to find the talismans by looking around and take them. And now she'd have to wait until sunset…
Maggie paused and made her way to a certain spot and loosened the stones. With a sigh of relief, she took out the pages of the Grimorum she had removed for quick study or sounding too dangerous.
She would not admit that her relief was not just on the fact these spells weren't in their enemies' hands. And in the meantime, she rifled through the sheath until she had the page she wanted.
Yes, a spell for tracking lost objects. Requiring either a piece of it or to be performed by someone who had once possessed it. Hmm, not a casual spell, fire, full moon, etc. But maybe…
Maggie sat down in her chair and reviewed what spells she had left, and decided to wait until she had something more presentable in spellwork to show the Clan. Though the theft she'd reveal, tonight first thing.
X X X
Doctor Cranley's day was not going well. She had almost had a willing volunteer for the Chimera transformation, but Wolf had bluntly refused, not because of the high mortality rate, but because he refused to be a feline.
"I didn't rename myself Wolf because I'm a cat person."
It wasn't a total loss, as he had been quite interested in the booster, and she had already scheduled a treatment for him to begin. She heard the staff in cybernetics were excited for those twins. Apparently they were actually more eager to push boundaries than the actual experts. For her part, she couldn't get excited about shoving tech into your body on a permanent basis. Useful, certainly, but it seemed undignified somehow. Flesh could be so much more interesting, too.
Though the real reason Wolf had her angry, she could admit, is that the elusive Lycan form would have fit his request. Though she wondered if even Sevarius could have done it? Dead men tend to become infallible quickly, after all.
At the very least, as she rode the elevator up the Eyrie building, she knew she hadn't been called away from her facilities for nothing. Mr. Xanatos was meeting with her himself, so that was something.
Making her way to his office, she went over what this could be about; while most of it wasn't good, it didn't seem anything for him to need to address face to face. So maybe some new outside development?
When she was buzzed into the office, she noted one of the two chairs before Xanatos' desk was occupied.
"Ah, Dr. Cranley, punctual as ever, despite a Manhattan commute. Please have a seat, and do not worry, I will not keep you from your work for long."
She took the offered seat and looked at the other guest.
Her first thoughts went between student, and then to investor when she realized he wasn't as young as she first thought. He looked Asian, though she knew she wasn't savvy enough to spot what kind. More importantly, he had his hair dyed purple and styled into tiny spikes, and wore large purple sunglasses that completely covered his eyes. His attire was even worse to her — sneakers, baggy bluejeans, and a shirt showing some kind of plant monster she was sure had starred in some movie. Then he flashed her a peace sign and dug into his pants pocket to pull out a plastic bag with red grapes in it. He plucked a grape out to offer to her between thumb and forefinger.
"Snack, doc?" he asked. His English only had a faint accent. So either not from the old country or very good at languages, she concluded.
"Who are you?" she demanded calmly, not accepting the dubious fruit.
"Doctor Elizabeth Cranley, meet Toshihiko Higurashi."
"Formerly of the BC, in case you're wondering. That's the best part of Canada, if you don't know," the young man stage whispered to her before eating his grape.
"Charmed, I am sure. Are you here as a volunteer?"
"HA! And mess with this glorious Japanese-Canadian body? Of all the crimes I'd happily commit, I'd never desecrate a national treasure."
Cranley looked to Xanatos, eager to get this over with, already tired of this guy. And he was a guy, not any proper man, she'd decided.
"Actually, he'll be joining the team with you. We have reason to think he has potential that only needs proper resources to really start to bloom."
"Your metaphors make me sound like a daisy, boss," Higurashi laughed.
"Well, I suppose I could replace one of my assistants with Dr. Higurashi-"
"Impossible, I'm not a doctor."
"…What?" Cranley asked.
"Never cared for the doctor thing, just a title people use to act like they're smart instead of just proving it. I mean, why waste time impressing a bunch of geezers to give you a title when you can get out there and start actually doing stuff? Besides, universities are on their way out as 'real'. This day and age, you can learn what you want at your own pace better than listening to stuffy professors and jumping through curriculum hoops. And frankly, the party scene ain't up to the movie hype either. So that's me, mother's regret, father's shame, and self-appointed flamer on the various crap the old men of science try to use to make people dance to their tune."
"He's rather excitable, as you can see."
"I drink green soda."
"…Well then, what position is Mr. Higurashi going to be filling?" Cranley asked, trying not to stress the word "mister".
"As it's become clear I've been doing you a disservice, expecting you to shoulder Anton's work alone, he will be taking a position as co-head of the Legacy Project and its associated operations. I understand it will take awhile to get him up to speed, but with his fresh input and less stress on yourself, I am confident we will finally start seeing proper returns in this venture," Xanatos said with a smile that was not at all kind despite his tone.
"Look forward to working with you, partner," Higurashi said, eating another grape, "I've got to say, when I first saw the visuals, I thought I was getting pranked. But no! I knew stuff like this crap could be done, but dang, it's already here! And I get to be part of it? Frankenstein eat your heart out, you wimpy whiner, we're going to be making waves in the planet's gene pool and look great while doing it, eh? Though I'd also like to examine this Thailog — I mean, monsters have been real the whole time? I always hoped, but can I squee loudly enough to make it clear?"
"It seems you two have enough to talk about to fill a few meetings. I won't get in the way, Owen will assist with any details in getting responsibilities delegated."
"Right away boss, want a return on your money, eh? Well, I'll see to it those dollars grow feet and start walking all over who you want, when you want."
As the two men bandied words, Cranley closed her mouth and felt her jaw clench. Bad enough to realize she was being ordered to train a replacement, but this idiot?! Unacceptable!
'I have to do something, quickly. But what?' she thought. After all, there were only two choices; one, she left Xanatos' employment in a very permanent fashion, as he was not the type to leave loose ends, in her opinion. Or second, she'd end up working under this fool. Either option was unbearable.
'How do I get out of this?' she thought, trying to keep her expression composed.
X X X
Ambushing Reed was problematic. If it was just a matter of subduing her, he could manage it, but he needed her intact enough yet subdued enough for him to achieve his task.
Made harder by the realization she had highly enhanced hearing, and seemed to sense him observing her. The other Chimera did not demonstrate such traits, very curious, the clone thought. It could just be the transformation worked differently for her; so little was understood of the details, it may just be only a fraction developed such senses. Though he also theorized it may be a latent ability that Reed developed by being thrown into the deep end. After all, the rumors of a Catwoman of Manhattan supported that Reed was indeed active alongside Goliath's clan in their vigilante culture. As opposed to Derek Maza's Pride, who while training, had only a paltry two real fights to their name to date. Reed had grown because she was pushed by experience, and possibly by the need to keep up with superior Gargoyles rather than languishing in the Pride.
Which also made him not inclined to underestimate her. He was certain she could not defeat him, but if she escaped after he tried to attack her it would ruin his plans regarding Goliath. And frankly, if she got a lead on him in the air, it was highly unlikely even skilled gliding would allow him to catch up with a real flyer who was also quite experienced.
So he had set up a trap. And decided to use that hearing to his advantage.
His studies had let him determine she was likely to pass this building at least once a week. An abandoned structure whose top floor had served as office space once, segmenting it quite nicely. Two open doors and a broken window to let the sound carry, a stereo for the sound, and lying in wait.
On spotting her incoming from the expected direction with binoculars, he had taken his place and activated the stereo with a remote.
A woman's scream was the first part. And sure enough, she heard it and came down. Oh, he didn't hear her until she came in; his hearing was not as good as hers, after all. And while she proceeded to follow his lure, the recording of sobbing and a man muttering threats, he remained quite still.
He had a clear line of sight from the storage closet door slightly ajar, but didn't look directly at the Chimera. An old desk left behind for some reason hid the stereo itself in the next room over, and she hesitated in the doorway across from him.
Did she hear the sound was synthetic? Some other sense, not hearing the creaking and other sounds the drama being played would make?
Didn't matter, it was show time.
Thailog burst through the door he was behind, and Reed could barely turn, a night stick in hand before he was on her.
His elbow struck her head on in his tackle, knocking her off her feet, with him sweeping around to backhand her against a wall. Not allowing anytime for her to think, much less counterattack, he struck with delighted speed at having a real victim and seized her head to lift her off her feet and slam her face first into the wall. It went through, shoddy walls, he noted. His neck slam found the stud, and her body slackened. He gave another slam for good measure before dropping her.
"Well, so the appeal of getting our hands dirty holds up," Thailog said, dusting his hands off. Crouching down, he confirmed Reed was alive and pulled back an eyelid. Chimera were more durable than humans, but he had not been totally certain. She'd be fine, he assessed, maybe some bruised bones from the tackle, and her face would have seen better days for awhile, but she'd be homeward bound once she awoke, he guessed.
Well, time to get to work, Thailog thought, ripping her skirt with ease before pulling out the harvester and pressing it against her fur-covered rear.
"Nothing sexual, I assure you. It's just an ideal spot for the Doctor's sample," Thailog chuckled to the downed Chimera.
X X X
It was an old Gargoyle rule that the home should never be left unguarded. Granted, one that had become more malleable as Goliath had declared the whole of the city their home in that regard. Still, ideal aside, the tower was vital to the Clan, and warranted particular protection.
And it wasn't just honor or fear of thieves. It was to ensure that if any of the Clan were in trouble, they would know for certain where they could retreat to for aid. In this era, that was more vital than ever, with their meager numbers ranging regularly over such a distance full of potential threats.
So even though Hudson had been enjoying a boxing match live from Las Vegas, he reacted with honed instinct when Maggie yelled out his name. Bronx had gone out tonight with Broadway, so the old soldier had been alone. And he had not heard Maggie this distressed for some time. His sword was drawn, ready to meet any foe that might be snapping at her tail tip.
She practically ran into him on the steps. Twisting around to avoid tumbling, having rushed in on all fours, she ended up on the floor, eyes wide, still low to the ground, face swelling with injury.
"What happened?" Hudson demanded, eyes darting back the way she had come. The first priority was to see if the threat was imminent, and if so, defend.
"I was ambushed," Maggie said around pants. She was trembling, Hudson realized.
"Can you fight?" he asked. She clearly wasn't alright, that question would be insulting, so he needed to know how bad it was and that would say.
"They tore my dress… my butt aches," she whimpered.
"Eh?" Hudson growled at those words, eyes shining in anger. Someone wanted him to take their head tonight, it seemed!
"I don't think I was followed, but, I didn't see them coming."
"Who?"
"I didn't see, it was so quick, but so strong. It was a trap. But I heard them. But it couldn't be…" Maggie trailed off, mumbling, her legs giving out slowly as her head drooped to the floor, heaving with deep breaths, her wings twitching. He'd guess she had pushed her flying as she hadn't since her ascent to the castle.
Intent on his task, he ascended the stairs and made his way to the door. Stepping out, Hudson scanned the skies, no sign of trouble. But that never promised there wasn't any. He stalked the spot but never far from the door, and thus his ability to quickly rush to Maggie.
As the hands of the clock moved behind him, he decided no one was making a move just now and he needed to check on Maggie. He cursed that Bronx was absent tonight; he could properly patrol if Bronx was guarding Maggie, but he could not leave her alone after something like this.
When he reentered, she was not in sight.
"Maggie?" he called.
"In here," she called from the magic room. Well, former magic room, Hudson thought forlornly. The lass had quickly informed them of the talismans missing after the day raid Demona and Macbeth had performed. Those two miserable souls teaming up was bad enough, but with magic at their fingertips such as that, Hudson dreaded when they returned.
X X X
Maggie had checked that her spells were still there. Habit rather than practical. The familiar action of retrieving the pages comforted her, along with checking to make sure they were all there.
No convenient healing magic. The closest was one to ward off fatigue, but it was for before you were tired, apparently. She had put them back after her checking and sat on the floor, or lied down? Her position was a bit of both.
Hudson was outside the door, she was back at the tower. She was… not okay, but she was better. Yes.
Yes, she had been through worse when her own body was tormenting her, this she could get a handle on.
Taking a breath, she decided to check herself. Near as she could tell, the worst hadn't happened. It was her left butt cheek that throbbed, everything else was from the beating. So yet again, like on the streets, she had dodged that disaster.
Her jacket was intact, but she felt bad and a change of clothes should help there.
"Hudson? Can you bring me a change of clothes?" Maggie asked, getting up to head to the door.
"Of course, lass. You want some water as well? For the drinking and washing."
"Yes," Maggie said with a bit more force than she intended. Taking a deep breath, she flexed her fingers, taking solace in the simple motion and sensation before she started to undress, and noticed there was something in her pocket.
X X X
Hudson returned to the door bearing a change of clothes for Maggie, a water-filled thermos, and a pitcher, towel tucked into the handle. Maggie sounded like she was doing better, but he had to tread carefully. This could be a delicate situation. And caring for your own always came before revenge, that was the Gargoyle way.
So he was surprised when the door cracked open before he knocked and Maggie's arm reached around it.
"Hudson. The jerk left this in my pocket." Her hand was holding out a folded-up piece of white paper, with Goliath's name on it.
"Someone's sending a message," Hudson said, the ambush falling into a different, if still unpleasant light. Hudson took the letter and immediately unfolded it. The method of delivery nullified any consideration for the message's privacy to him.
The message was short and left his scowl growing deeper.
"Something tells me this won't end well," Hudson grumbled, as he turned his attention to handing Maggie the supplies.
X X X
Matt Bluestone knew he was a man who did not command respect. Mostly that didn't bother him, much anymore. He was a man awake, with eyes wide open, in a world crafted to lull people into half-sleep with blinders on their faces.
It wasn't that the world and the issues on its surface were fake, far from it. But that surface had been arranged over time in such a way to hide the true shape of the landscape and the flow of civilization from the people. Many aspects and agendas running across the globe and back into history. Like sections of a sea serpent, breaching the surface and only hinting at the immensity of the true monster.
Yet all those breaches and half-glimpsed horrors, he believed, came together in the Illuminati society.
And pursuing them had cost him much. Not just his career in the bureau, but plenty of friends and acquaintances who increasingly saw him as obsessed and delusional. Often urging him to just give it up, or shaping it as if he was the selfish one for trying to make them see the danger of the snakes coiling about their feet.
Even Elisa didn't believe in him, he knew. She was a nice woman, a good person and a better cop, which meant she kept her mockery good-natured, likely never realizing how in a way her casual dismissal hurt more than outright slander. It drove home how much he was working against, if even someone who liked and respected him as a detective still saw his theories like some nerd collecting action figures — mildly distasteful but harmless and in good fun.
The Silver Falcon incident hadn't helped. She'd had to rescue him, and they'd both nearly been killed as his pursuit of the truth led them into a pathetic gangster treasure hunt. Mace Malone left that mocking message and a bag of marbles for Dominic Dracon, but Matt felt as if the joke was on him too. Not for the first time, he had felt icy doubt creeping at the edge of his thoughts. What if he was wrong? What if the world was right and he was chasing shadows given meaning by paranoia and his ego spurring him to believe in a great cause that was nothing more than windmills for him to charge?
Looking over the chart on his apartment wall, he could see how others saw him. But as ever, he pressed on. Faith was easily maligned by men of so-called reason. But he felt faith in one's self and one's convictions were essential. The resolve to set yourself against so-called facts that did not ring true to you. To be able to stand firm on your convictions against everything from naked hostility to the demoralizing pity and sympathy of those who looked at you as broken.
Even if he was wrong, at most that meant his own life had been wasted in large part, which was bad. But if he gave up and was right, it would mean that the evil he was hunting would continue to run unchecked and unseen, until the day its power was so absolute it would step forth, having made the truth itself a trifle to the might it commanded.
But resolve and faith required direction. And right now it was carving the path he was following — the Gargoyles. Not myth, he knew. He had seen it that night. Brief glimpses through searchlights of creatures flying on the night winds. Captain and everyone else waved it off as the illegal robots they'd recovered on Liberty Island. But he'd seen the wreck and the sketches of reconstructions. It didn't match what he had seen; those had been varied, not uniform. And he knew the difference between metal and flesh, however strange and passing.
Even Elisa didn't believe him, going so far as to play the "knows her town" card. He'd grown up here too; having left for a good chunk of his life didn't mean she could treat him as a jumpy tourist. After all, it wasn't like he was ranting about sewer gators.
And this was interesting, he thought, tapping a particular branch of his Gargoyle chart. The Catwoman of Manhattan. People treated her as separate, maybe inspired by the Gargoyles, but he was certain it was a connection. Same MO as the Gargoyles, and while appearing later, another flying anomaly.
He'd put together sketches based on accounts, and guessed there were no more than eight Gargoyles active in the city. Though it was certainly possible others did not work the field, as it were. But all of them appeared male. Not that every species was easy to spot on sex, but there it was. But the Catwoman was described multiple times as a female. Maybe there was just a lot of sexual dimorphism and she was the same species?
Why emerge later though? Rite of passage completed? An immigrant, and if so from where? And for the Gargoyles in general, had they arrived in Manhattan to start making waves, or had they been here and something prompted them to emerge like this with acts of violence?
And what was the point of their attacks? For all the panic on humans being hunted and such, reports that had any credibility showed the victims not only alive but often being accused or implicated by circumstance as criminals.
"So what, Gargoyles aren't a menace, they're superheroes?" Matt asked himself. If it felt ridiculous to him, it would be worse when he shared it.
He needed more information. He was not sure the Gargoyles were connected to the Illuminati, but they were another secret hidden from the world. Finding the truth of them was not only ethical, it could flush out connections to his true goal.
The truth was out there, and he would seek it out.
X X X
Goliath had hoped, after dealing with the robot-operated Fortress 2 and being confronted by his own shortcomings courtesy of Halcyon Renard, that what remained of the evening could pass in peace. Instead, he had returned to the tower to find another crisis.
Maggie looked terrible, but she held her pose as they stood and Goliath read the note.
"Someone wants to defect from Xanatos, but they can't without help. They want me to meet them tomorrow alone."
"It's a trap," Lexington said.
"Possibly," Goliath conceded. Brooklyn groaned.
"Oh please, don't tell us you're going? Look, if this person really wanted to leave Xanatos and needs our help, there are a lot of different ways than beating up Maggie. Me, I'd sooner give him a punch to the face than a hand."
"Thank you," Maggie remarked. Goliath wasn't sure if she was sharing disdain for the idea or approving the bit of revenge. Broadway spoke up next.
"Are we forgetting that whoever this was beat Maggie? Even with an ambush set up, she's tough. This wasn't some helpless human in over their head. I'd say it's one of the Chimera."
"Derek Maza, ya think? Come to his senses?" Hudson asked. Broadway frowned thoughtfully.
"He's definitely got issues with Maggie."
"It'd be like him to be a jerk, even when asking for help. But we don't know for sure; we hardly know anything about the other Chimera other than one of the girls being into Lex."
"I am going to play this out," Goliath told them.
"Of course," Lexington remarked.
"At least you shouldn't go alone," Maggie said.
"It may be a trap, but I will not be blindly going in, trust me. And even if this isn't Elisa's brother, we ourselves almost became Xanatos' pawns; it's our responsibility to be ready to help others escape his web."
"I don't like it. But if you feel it's worth the risk."
"To be clear, I am not going alone. The message said to not bring any of the Clan," Goliath said with a small smile.
"Ah, either they don't know about Elisa or they underestimate her. Either way, it will go poorly for them if they have ill design," Hudson chuckled.
X X X
Goliath made his way off the tower to meet up with Elisa elsewhere in the city after sunset. Maggie wasn't sure what excuses Elisa used to ditch her partner so many times; maybe police partners didn't really work that closely?
Well, Maggie knew where he was going, and she'd already told them she wasn't cooping herself up in the tower tonight. She'd been knocked down by whomever, but she was back on her feet, and not going to sit back as Goliath and Elisa possibly walked into a trap. It was bad enough with the wedding, but this time it wasn't even so audacious as to be believable.
Taking to the air, Maggie took a breath, glad her body was aching less after a good meal and sleeping. It was pretty clear as a Chimera she healed quicker than humans in addition to being tougher, but there were drawbacks. Despite her relief to be aware for any intruders, once she'd settled down she'd cleared out a lot of the fridge and slept like the dead. Guess the healing had to come from somewhere.
And why was Brooklyn coming up on her?
"Maggie!" the white-haired Gargoyle called as she slowed her flapping to let him catch up, settling into her own semi glide.
"I said I didn't need an escort for patrol, Brooklyn," Maggie reminded him.
"But you're not patrolling, you're going to spy on Goliath."
"…Am I that obvious?" Maggie sighed.
"No, but maybe you should be a little less eager to confess to stuff," Brooklyn pointed out. Maggie glanced away; one of the better things about her mutation was blushing was unseeable now.
"I know Goliath is the leader, but what I can tell from that ambush was no reluctant attacker; I'm pretty sure there was chuckling as I went under. Like a cartoon villain, but actually scary."
"Hey, I agree it's a bad idea, that's why I'm coming with you," Brooklyn said, giving her a thumbs up.
"Oh!" Maggie slipped out.
"Also, you're still pretty banged up, so I think you could use some backup yourself if this goes south, right?"
"…Thank you," Maggie said, a knot in her chest she hadn't noticed untying. The two flew on in silence toward the rendezvous point.
X X X
"Thank you for accommodating this on short notice," Goliath said as he carried Elisa through the sky.
"Well, it helps having a partner who is always up to something. If I had a by-the-book boy scout, this might be harder to swing. And besides, you meeting this guy alone is not something I would be okay with. The wedding was bad enough."
"Hm, I think if you hadn't, the others would have insisted on tagging along."
"And you want me there in case it's Derek," Elisa stated.
"Yes, but even if it is another Chimera, as his sister your word might carry weight."
"They attacked Maggie. I know you want to think the best, but…"
"I am not going to forget that. One of my clan was attacked; I will not let it blind me, but I am not turning a blind eye to it."
"It really doesn't matter she's not a Gargoyle for you to call her that, does it?" Elisa asked with a smile. He returned it, able to tell it wasn't really a question.
"I do not recall clans having members who weren't Gargoyles, but perhaps it's time for that to change."
X X X
Goliath landed on the designated roof and already disliked it. The rooftop was a mess of chimneys, standing vents, and sheds. And the building had been deserted for years, it seemed. Elisa did not draw her gun as he set her down, but she was on alert. As was he; this would be his choice for an ambush too.
"I am here, show yourself!" Goliath called.
Silence answered him and the moment stretched, making him wonder if it was a setup, or worse, the would-be defector had been found out.
Then an oddly familiar voice called out from the echoing darkness.
"I see I should have been more specific, or less, when telling you to come alone. A bold choice, Goliath."
'Not Derek, then,' Goliath noted. He glanced to Elisa, who despite her stoic expression he was sure sagged at the implication her brother was still under Xanatos' manipulation. Goliath answered the voice.
"You attacked Maggie; one does not readily trust when you are greeted with an attack."
"Fair enough, so we're even on poor turns. Not a terrible place to start."
Elisa spoke up, looking troubled, "Are you one of the Chimeras? How is Derek doing?"
"I am not, and that depends on what you mean, exactly."
"Enough games! If you want to deal with us, we require good faith after what you did to Maggie. Come out where we can see you, or we are leaving," Goliath cut in. There was something in that voice that put him on edge; he had expected someone desperate, not this.
"Understand this, I had to attack Miss Reed. I am bound to obey orders, it has been inscribed on my very being," the voice said as a figure moved in the shadows. As if on cue, the moon came from behind a bank of clouds, shedding its light brightly as the powerful figure came into view.
"What is this?!" Goliath demanded, taking a step back in shock. It was his own face staring back at him. His own everything, done in black, white and red!
"Sorcery?" Goliath asked, as the figure watched him stoically and Elisa put a hand to her mouth.
"No, science. Xanatos and Sevarius spawned me from your blood. I was the last arrow the doctor loosed, you could say, inherited by lesser minds like Cranley."
"He's a clone, Goliath. They grew him from a piece of you. They can do that," Elisa told Goliath, stunned by this revelation.
"A piece of me?! When? No, it doesn't matter, is nothing sacred to that man?" Goliath clenched his fist, not looking at the distorted copy watching him. His building rage paused as Elisa laid a hand on his massive arm.
"No, nothing is. You and Thailog are his victims as much as Maggie, my brother, the men who died when Demona downed Fortress 1 for him, and who knows how many others. And he'd like nothing better than for you to be at each other's throats like he's duped Derek into doing."
Goliath said nothing, taking a brief look at the clone before glaring at the rooftop.
"You said Maggie was part of your clan even though it's something new; would this be any different, in any way that mattered? You haven't even learned his name."
"…What is your name?"
"Thailog, your name inverted, the Doctor's idea and Xanatos approved it," the clone said, watching them with a raised eyebrow.
Goliath could recognize his own voice now. And other small things in how the copycat held himself. He wanted to rage at this… theft. His image, his body, perhaps even a piece of his very soul. Xanatos had driven them from their home, nearly killed his clan so many times for ambition and pride. Now this?
But he felt the warmth of Elisa's hand on his forearm, which seemed to anchor her words in his mind. How could he reject Thailog for his existence while embracing Maggie's transformed one? Would it make him no better than the Princess had been, rejecting them so easily and hatefully despite them having done nothing to her?
"It was a blessed night we crossed paths, Elisa," Goliath said, letting out a breath, trying to will the tension away. He met Thailog's eyes, hard but curious, his posture form like a warrior's but also stiff, Goliath thought, inexperienced. It occurred to him how, even with this strange science, how young this creature — no, Gargoyle — before him was. What life had he emerged into in Xanatos' labs, to already seem so hardened?
"Thailog, you seek sanctuary?" Goliath finally asked.
"I would settle for aid, father; but if you are offering, I'd consider it."
"Father…" Goliath found the word strange on his tongue. It prodded at an old wound, the thought of the egg Demona had laid, their egg.
Xanatos had said the eggs were gone, but no one knew where. But even if the Princess, Magus, and Tom kept their word, those eggs and the children who came from them were dead and dust. As were any descendants.
If Xanatos, with all his power, and Demona with her obsession, could not find them, then he could only conclude as they had, there were no others.
Until now. Thailog, a new Gargoyle from bizarre origins. And one who called him father. No doubt ignorant that Gargoyles had no want or need for such titles and roles, there was the clan, the elders, the young, brothers and sisters, but no parents and children to be claimed.
"You say you had no choice attacking Maggie," Goliath said, forcing his thoughts from introspection to the matter at hand.
"Cranley is a vicious woman, Goliath. She insisted I attack Maggie; her desire was for me to capture her for her experiments, but fortunately Cranley was not specific in her orders, and I made excuses while hoping Reed would deliver my message."
"Mind control?" Elisa asked, eyes narrowed. Thailog smiled at the detective.
"Sharp as they say. Small wonder Goliath values you as an ally and you drive your brother to foolishness as the inferior sibling," Thailog remarked, "But yes, Cranley was not about to risk me simply walking out on Xanatos Enterprises like you did Goliath. While I grew, she planted a compulsion in me. A specific phrase which places me under control of the speaker — whatever they order, I must then do, my mind not free until they will it. It takes all my willpower can do to twist the orders from the worst outcome, like with Reed."
"I have heard of that from Matt. Manchurian candidates, urban legends about people that are hypnotized but act normal until some order or sight triggers them," Elisa added. Goliath nodded, accepting her support for Thailog's words.
Frankly, he was starting to think science could be as troublesome as magic in producing horrors.
"I admit, I don't have a plan yet to deal with this. I never intended to be Xanatos' tool like your brother, detective. But this mind control is quite the curveball, so I am afraid rather than seeking you out as a free Gargoyle, I am reduced to begging for aid," Thailog admitted.
"…This science, it forces you to do as commanded?" Goliath asked.
"Yes, it's not like chains you can strain against, it's as if I am unable to act, while others move me."
Goliath knew that feeling, and it brought inspiration.
"I think I know a way to free you. But I will need Dr. Cranley, and at least fifteen minutes," Golaith said, seizing on the possible solution.
"What? I was looking more for longterm thinking, you actually have an idea?" Thailog said, his demeanor cracking in favor of puzzlement. Goliath smiled; he admitted it was always gratifying when he upended people who underestimated him.
"No guarantee it will work. But Thailog, the sooner you leave Xanatos, the better; I would not be surprised if he has something in store for you to further bind you to him or set you against the Clan."
The dark Gargoyle stood, weighing his options.
"Very well, getting Cranley out should be easy. But I will need at least a week. That will give me time to set things up, and leave a few pleasant surprises for Xanatos," Thailog said, with a smirk that looked out of place on a face like Goliath's.
Elisa stepped forward.
"Thailog, my brother…"
"If my plan goes well, he might also free himself. Rest assured, detective, I want to leave Xanatos in a poor state behind me. Stripping him of his Chimera would be a fine state of affairs."
"How?" Goliath asked.
"I'll be keeping that to myself, just like you haven't volunteered your idea. What we don't know can't get leaked somehow, right?"
"Plan to meet me on this rooftop on next Friday. This time, do come alone; the doctor is sharp in her way, and if she gets tipped off, it will be a matter of seconds until I become her sword and shield."
X X X
Maggie and Brooklyn watched Goliath fly away from the meeting roof with Elisa in his arms. Maggie couldn't help a bit of jealousy at the detective getting to be carried around like that. Yes, flying herself was great, but Goliath's arms were a fine place to be, and Elisa had the perfect excuse to end up there.
"So, what did you hear?" Brooklyn asked. They'd been down out of sight behind a railing, with Maggie stretching her hearing.
"Someone wants to defect and they kept calm through it, all of them. My hearing is great, but I'm not Superman, Brooklyn; that much open air and the wind… Hearing a scream or cry for help is one thing from a distance, but this was too much," Maggie sighed, standing up and stretching her wings, walking along the roof edge, hoping to see her attacker depart. Yes, there was creeping anxiety, but she wasn't alone here.
Brooklyn wasn't Goliath, but she trusted with him here, even if she was surprised, this would not go badly.
"Well, did it sound like Derek?" Brooklyn pressed.
"No, actually it sounded an awful lot like Goliath. I think," Maggie said, biting her lip slightly.
"So, should we head back to the tower or do some actual patrolling?" Brooklyn asked.
"We patrol the long way back," Maggie decided. Brooklyn voiced his agreement, and Maggie didn't even question making the call, still bothered by that voice that had briefly tricked her into thinking Goliath was talking to himself.
XXX
Elisa was not having a good evening when Matt jogged her from her thoughts. She'd held it together for Goliath, but Thailog had creeped her out. After magic being real along with the fey, she supposed cloning was tame, but it still made her skin crawl. Could Xanatos have been planning to replace Goliath with Thailog before he came out different? Or, more obviously, just have his own Goliath-sized champion?
The thought of an Elisa clone stepping into her own life, or maybe a human Derek clone, whirled slowly but darkly in her head until Matt broke in.
"I know you don't believe me, but could you at least do a better job of pretending?" Matt said, with more exasperation than annoyance.
They were wrapping up the night; she'd left Goliath to break the news to the Clan. Matt had another lead on his conspiracies. And he did not get she was worried he might not be crazy. With her life, ancient world-steering conspiracies seemed more likely by the day.
She just really didn't want it to be real.
"Yes, you were saying you need a guy from witness protection?"
"Jack Dane, Malone's stepson. With Dominic Dracon section 8-ing upstate, Dane's the closest person to Malone still alive."
"You really think a gangster would spill secrets to his wife's kid? Besides, Malone ran out on them, right? If the guy had dirt, he'd have spilled it decades ago," Elisa pointed out.
"Well, it's either this or chasing Gargoyle leads. The Catwoman, especially — she just started showing up suddenly, separate from the others. Something is going on in this city, and I'm not about to believe it's not connected to bigger things," her red-haired partner said.
She gave him her customary lightly salty response, before taking her leave.
She liked Matt, alright. He wasn't pushy with his stuff on getting her to believe it, but it was clear that outside work, that was his life. And she couldn't help but feel he was rather vain, thinking he could unearth all this if it was as big as he said. And she knew his inability in the past to separate his passion from work had cost him his FBI job.
No, she didn't have a problem, but would it be too much to ask for a boring partner, when her life was already so interesting? Not to mention the worry his paranoia might lead him to looking upstairs for any possible reason and her prepared explanation of a secret break room didn't even impress her.
'I'm going to go gray early, aren't I?' Elisa thought, sitting down at her desk and pulling out the appropriate paperwork to end the night.
X X X
Maggie knew she needed more sleep. Ever since the sun came up, she hadn't even bothered getting the spells out to look over, and the clock was ticking. She had been moving between her chair, failing to read through Othello, and pacing about on all fours.
She needed to guard the Clan during the day. But she couldn't bear the thought of sleeping through the night when everyone else was awake. Hudson told her to take it easy, but he didn't understand. She had to do her best; their kindness in not pushing her only made it more important. She ate their food and used their resources and wasn't even really one of them, and they treated it like nothing. Maggie had to be worthy of that, and nothing was working right for it.
Trying to be ever vigilant was wearing her down. She'd been shown up as inept by that clone, which she was not happy about, though not too surprised. Of course they'd clone Goliath, you made copies of the best, after all! Though she would bet the clone lacked his presence.
'Urgh, distraction,' she thought, her fatigue-tinged mind dwelling on Goliath's calm yet overwhelming manly presence.
She'd given up on that. It was like Cam Perino back in high school, player of Oberon and football quarterback who had such great light brown curly hair. Out of her league.
Her thoughts as she crept back up to the clock face to peek out went to an encounter she had not shared. She'd seen the Chimera pride in flight the other night, before being ambushed. Two new ones she'd not been able to pick out but small, maybe house cat Chimera? And she'd felt a stab of envy. Derek Maza and the others might be duped into working for Xanatos, but they had others of their kind.
The Clan was better, she knew, from what she'd see and heard of the Pride. But then, she didn't measure up to the Clan; perhaps in those ranks, she would blend in with other mediocrities? It wasn't that she wanted that, she knew that. But faced with the possibility of failing the Clan again, she felt like failing that lot would be more acceptable.
Her thoughts kept spiraling into dark places, until a moment settling on the floor saw her curl up and drift into troubled, formless dreams.
X X X
Elisa had lied right to Matt's face. It wasn't that he expected total honesty — his youthful disdain for lying had been tempered over the years by all the times he had needed to pull the wool over people's eyes for good reason, and he tried to not be a hypocrite. But not only had he accidentally caught her dead to rights, with his chat with the captain not two minutes prior making her explanation for where she had been impossible, it also dodged why she'd been in that supply closet, of all places.
And it left him wondering, why lie? Elisa didn't strike him as one for petty secrets; as the saying went, people buried gold, not pennies. And the lie was smoother than he would have given her credit for, he'd have bought it if he hadn't known what he did. Which raised the question, what else had she been lying to him about and for how long?
Still, he played it cool; he had other matters on his plate.
And of course, Elisa was not interested in helping him grill Jack Dane. Another casual dismissal, a bit salty but he'd like to think a bit affectionate, like humoring him at the same time as little lighthearted mockery. It wouldn't sting much if she hadn't just lied to his face.
X X X
Tomorrow was Thursday. Which meant Matt had to wait to act on his lead.
Jack Dane hadn't had much to offer, but he'd been cooperative once it was clear Matt wanted details on Mace. The old gangster had been pumping iron in a health club, enjoying a nice standard of living on the taxpayer's dime.
The first thing Matt had needed was Dane's opinion on whether or not the mysterious man in the back row of that fortunate photo of Flo Dane's funeral could be Mace. The man had agreed it might be the old gangster. Which meant Mace Malone, even after more than sixty years separation from his wife, had carried enough of a torch to risk attending her funeral. Which meant the followup was the important part; Matt had never been able to find where Flo Dane had been buried, the actual funeral having been a cloistered mob affair.
If it caused trouble for Mace, Dane had been happy to share, though somber discussing his mother. She'd been buried in Pine Lawn in a shared mausoleum, under her actual birth name, Flora Dreedle. All the spiteful gangster asked in return was for Matt to deliver the message Jack called him a bum for running out on them all those years ago.
Matt had no interest in the grudges of gangsters; Dane already was getting more than he deserved in life. But that information had led Matt to a tantalizing bit of information — the staff at Pine Lawn told him that nearly every Thursday for years, an old man in a suit with a handlebar mustache visited Flora Dreedle's grave to lay a fresh flower.
Matt couldn't be certain it was Mace. In fact, after all this time it seemed absurd an Illuminatus would make such a stupid mistake after decades spent hiding from the public eye. But it could be him. It could be that his unseen enemy had finally slipped, like mere mortals. It could be that his persistence would pay off, finally.
So it might have been impatience at having to wait for his answer that led Matt Bluestone to poking around a storage closet in the precinct.
Nothing too special, what you'd expect for a room not in use save the point of keeping up to snuff in a building this old. But there was a fold-down ladder in the ceiling he certainly wasn't going to overlook. Pulling it down revealed the step it connected to had a rope with a sign on it.
"Hazard: Authorized Personnel Only," Matt read, walking up. Cocking his head, he started up the stairs where he heard machinery running. Did he just hear someone?
The hooks screwed into the walls to hold the thin rope drew his attention. Newer stuff this, the discoloration was still visible. Could be a coincidence, things changed without conspiracy. Or Elisa had put this up herself to deter idle curiosity without making things hard for herself.
Effortlessly pulling and ducking under the rope, Matt ascended with a hand on his gun into the clocktower.
"An apartment?" Matt whispered as he entered the gear room. The machinery was more impressive than he expected; this could be a cool backdrop in movies, the gears and other works moving smoothly despite their size and age.
But what really surprised him was that the place was furnished. A kitchen area, complete with hotplate, couches and chairs. Even a TV.
"I helped you move this in the day I started here," Matt recalled a bit scornfully, tapping the top of the TV.
Yeah, this was beyond a break room.
Opening the fridge and cupboards showed this was better stocked than his own apartment. You could feed a family of gluttons with this stock.
Then he spotted something he'd initially overlooked. Away from the other furniture was a curtained off area. Approaching it cautiously, he stopped in his tracks, looking around. He felt someone watching him. Not a friendly look, either.
Call them out? Or play it like he hadn't noticed?
No, he hadn't come looking for a fight. Let them watch for now.
Pulling the curtain aside showed a mattress with a blanket and pillow folded on it.
'Well, really completes it', Matt thought. Kneeling by the mattress confirmed it wasn't dusty, which meant it had been used recently in a place like this. Not just some rainy day precaution.
Was Elisa, of all people, keeping a "love nest" up here? Matt felt his stomach lurch a bit at the thought of unearthing that type of secret, but he shook it off; why would she meet with a guy up here?
Eyes on the blankets, he spotted something and, with a delicate touch, plucked a long hair from it. A long, light brown hair.
Or maybe it made more sense if she was meeting a woman up here? He'd known too many different kinds of people to say something like "she didn't seem the type". But still, it didn't seem to quite fit.
And long hair didn't have to mean a woman, of course, though the image of Elisa being with some longhaired rocker almost made him laugh.
Enough theories, focus on facts, he admonished himself.
The connected room seemed empty. Computer manuals and an improvised electronics workshop. A collection of tapes, mostly he'd call them guy movies, but some Disney that he could see Elisa keeping.
He heard someone coming up the stairs and resisted the urge to look around for the one spying on him.
"Matt?" Elisa said, stepping up into sight with her gun drawn.
"Nice place you've got here," Matt said, keeping his tone even.
"So, you found my little hideaway, good detective work. Please don't tell the Captain?" she said. He did not miss her looking around. So, she likely knew someone else was up here with them. Would she tell the truth, or try to spin this off?
"Your hideaway?"
"In case you haven't noticed, this job can be a bit much, so I set this place up to get some peace and unwind."
"Unwind? Plenty of apartments have less stuff. I helped you move that TV in the day we met. You said it was for a friend."
"You caught me, it was for me. What can I say, for a cop, I still break some rules. No one was using this space for anything, so why not?"
"And all these videos? More food than a couple's pantry would hold? There's a lot of time and money poured in here. And apparently you didn't go home to sleep, like some Japanese stereotype?"
"Hey, Matt, I don't grill you on your off hours stuff. I'm a bit more high maintenance than I let on, and a big eater. It's not something I talk about cause it's not important," Elisa said, getting a bit defensive and trying to sneak a glance up.
'They're hiding in the walkways,' Matt concluded, and resisted the urge to look up, keeping his eyes on Elisa.
So she wasn't going to tell him. Nothing here was sinister, and it seemed most likely at the moment Elisa was in the closet with someone on the force. Matt didn't have a problem, and this was New York, but it wouldn't be his place to call her out on this.
'But you don't really believe that, do you Matt? This doesn't smell like some soap opera scandal. And would Elisa keep lying over something like this knowing you'll keep digging?'
"Listen, we need to get going, shift will start soon," she said.
He accepted the evasion, and the lady detective visibly relaxed as he followed her down the stairs. He did stop a moment to glance around the massive chamber. He felt quite tempted to wave goodbye to the unseen glarer.
He had enough on his plate to not press Elisa Maza's secrets for now. But this was not even close to over. He simply had higher priorities at the moment, as Elisa accidentally reminded him by asking how things went with Dane.
'Oh Elisa, you aren't as good at this as you think,' he thought as she showed interest in the very thing she'd been dismissing.
X X X
Doctor Cranley pulled her white jacket tighter as the wind whipped around her, Manhattan spread below her in a dizzying sight. This was the tallest tower in Xanatos' castle; short of climbing in the parapets, you couldn't stand higher in Manhattan.
Thailog had taken it as a roost of choice recently. Perhaps unsurprisingly, as it had been his donor's preferred perch. She would have preferred him out of the elements, in a controlled environment, but Mr. Xanatos had been all for Thailog following in his father's footsteps. Dismissing her concerns with the fact Gargoyles had slept outdoors for millennia, nothing to worry about.
The view wasn't enchanting her, her attention was on the Gargoyle who had invited her up here.
"What did you need to say to me here you couldn't downstairs?" she asked. She wasn't worried, why would she be? With a few words, he'd be under her control. But it wasn't like she'd even need to. After that unfortunate incident, he had been well-behaved.
She'd really rather not use it again. So hopefully this wasn't him being rebellious.
"Doctor, you have been under a lot of pressure lately. Filling a mad genius' shoes, and now being undercut by Mr. Xanatos for that vulgar young man. I thought it was time someone showed you a little consideration," Thailog said. He smiled, and the wind was making her flush in the face.
"Well, I'm not really in the mood for watching the city go by, so-"
"Of course not, I had something better in mind. Would you come glide with me?" he asked, holding out one of his perfect strong hands.
She blinked at the dark appendage like an idiot.
"What?" she asked.
"Goliath, I know, is quite capable of carrying Elisa Maza about, and we've done exercises with weights. So come along, Doctor, don't you want to see something few humans have ever been able to?" he asked, extending the offer with his hand.
Taking the hand, she let him pick her up, holding her close to his chest. Gargoyle flesh was so unique that even through her clothes she could feel its strength and hardness, yet it was comfortable to the touch as she briefly let her cheek brush his chest.
'Is this happening?' she thought, looking up, eyes wide behind her glasses to his face. That smile, she thought.
"Now, this might be a bit scary," he said, stepping up to the ledge.
And they plunged.
She screamed in sheer terror. Every instinct firing in panic, all her senses declaring imminent doom. Reason was trailing or had been left behind entirely for someone who never even liked rollercoasters.
Then he pulled up, and panic gave way to shock, then awe. Screaming became gasps, then laughter. There was no one moment, it just blended together as Thailog flew her through Manhattan. It made her think of that stupid Superman movie she'd seen once, and simply because of the cold she tried to squirm tighter in his grip.
The lab, Xanatos, her looming replacement, it all just fell away, and she felt light as a feather, the ugly world seeming beautiful and troubles far away. Gazing out at it all, nearly drifting to sleep in bliss, she could not have seen the smile on Thailog's face shift. If she had, she might have caught him mouthing a single word silently.
"Soon."
X X X
Fancy cemeteries always kind of rubbed Matt a bit the wrong way. Maybe it was people trying to hang a pretty sign on death. Wasted resources on those who no longer needed it. Or maybe it was just him looking for excuses, and any cemetery reminded him of his mortality alongside his failure to achieve much that he'd call commendable.
Anyway, Pine Lawn had a Greco-Roman feel to it, with temple-like mausoleums and broad, shallow reflecting pools flanked by columns. It was big enough you could be alone in broad daylight, though there must be quite a groundskeeping staff. But Matt wasn't alone anymore; before his eyes, an old man approached the ornate drawer holding the remains of Flo Dane, resting under her birth name Flora Dreedle.
He looked old, but not a man pushing a hairsbreadth to a hundred. He wasn't even leaning heavy on his cane, and beneath his jacket and scarf, the shoulders were steady and his steps were sure. Matt even noted the smoothness with which the old man pulled rose out of his jacket to lay it on the shelf.
Mustache matched, hair under the hat from what he could see. And even with sunglasses… he'd call it the man from the picture he'd shown Dane yesterday. And Dane thought the man in the picture could be Mace Malone.
'Well, time to leap,' Matt thought, stepping out to confront the old man.
"Well, isn't that cute, near seventy years and still carrying a torch for young love. You really loved her despite everything else you did? You were the maestro of organized crime on the Eastern Seaboard, not the biggest player but you knew the dirty business inside out. And you tutored the Illuminati, giving them everything they needed to become a silent partner in America's underworld for most of the century. But even you couldn't cover every trail. The mob realized who had been talking, and you'd burned too many bridges. You had no choice but to swindle your only remaining ally of the Silver Falcon diamonds and vanish like a ghost. Those diamonds bought you into the Society even after your tutoring was done, letting you vanish into power and luxury, an urban legend that's haunted this city for decades. Though I'll bet you never left, not for long."
"Pardon?" the old man said, facing him.
"Do your superiors know you take a risk like this? Seems sloppy for the Illuminati. Or do they just figure no one is still looking for a gangster that vanished more than half a century ago?"
"Young man, how long have you had these delusions?" Matt grabbed the hand with the cane, holding it up to clearly see the tattoo on the back. Like the old man, remarkably well-preserved.
This was him.
"Not so long as you have had this. Like you, it's in remarkably good shape for your age. I guess one of the perks of Illuminati membership is cutting edge rejuvenation drugs?" Matt pressed onward.
The old man took off his glasses, revealing a steely pair of dark eyes while a smile stretched beneath his mustache.
"You should see the dental plan; Detective Bluestone."
Shortly:
They walked besides a reflecting pool.
"You can be in a city for years and never live in it, Detective Bluestone. I gained much with the Society, but the cost is real. That is what sets apart those who rise from those who fall — whether or not you're willing to pay the price for your ambitions. The Society has been watching you for some time. You have true conviction, you've gambled and lost a lot on your quest. The reason I met you today was to extend an offer."
"What offer?"
"If you simply wanted to blow the whistle on me, we would not be talking civilly, would we? You wanted the Illuminati, Detective; well, now that you've found us, now what?"
"I want the truth. The truth of this world, not the theme park set you and your brothers have been running."
"Sisters too, Detective. We are not bigoted in our membership; our criteria is strict, but it has no place for such trivialities as gender. But as for the truth, most want it without understanding it will not bring them peace. But you are not a fool, you've already been throwing away your ties to humanity bit by bit. Admirable. If you want answers, you need to do more than find the door, you need the key to unlock it. That key is to join the Society. Reaching out to me today was one of two final tests."
Matt didn't blink at that, but it confirmed his fears. They had let him get this far. He was certain if Mace didn't like how this meeting went, he'd never leave Pine Lawn. Probably an empty drawer ready and waiting for him.
"How long have you been testing me?" Matt demanded calmly.
"You'll need that key before you get that answer," Malone chuckled, taking a seat on a bench, "Anyway, I pass you on the first test. But now comes the hard part. We need proof of good faith that you are truly committed to playing by our rules to get the answers you crave. Treachery is sadly common in the world, as you well know."
"Are you saying, you have all the cards and expect me to have to prove something to you? Good faith from 'the' conspiracy?"
"Everyone has standards. If we were vaudeville villains, we'd have died out long ago. But I concede you have reason to be cynical. So let me offer you some quid pro quo, information on a secret in your own life, free of charge and obligation. Provided by Mr. David Xanatos, a lower echelon member, by the by."
"I'm listening," Matt said darkly.
All they'd done was talk, and he was sure Mace had never been at the disadvantage.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Authors' Note:
Well here we are again. I decided to chop this chapter in two. Hope you do not mind; I have decided to try somewhat shorter chapters for a quicker update rate. Hope it works for you all.
Looking back I wish I'd eased Matt into the narrative proper more. But my plans regarding him grew quite a bit for the overall story, so he gets more screen-time than I originally planned for this two parter.
Anyway the Matt story-line for this two parter is done already so hopefully the rest will come together. No promises though as Thailog is at the center of major plans and the consequences of next chapter far reaching. So fine tooth comb fine tuning there.
The Pack fight wasn't easy, but those colorful cads are fun to write!
As usual I hope you enjoyed this ongoing story.
Long days and pleasant nights to you all.