Hey Readers and Gargoyles Fans!
This chapter is less of an actual chapter, but more of a collection of short one-shots involving Elijah and the Gargoyles. Just wanted to do something different, as well as work on some character development and world-building.
Hope you enjoy it!
Loser Gets to Go Gliding
"No way," Elijah said, shaking his head no. "I've changed my mind!"
"C'mon," Brooklyn told him. "It's perfectly safe."
"Famous last words," Lex muttered.
"Not helping!"
The trio of friends stood outside in the backyard behind Robbins' house, the wind blowing strongly around them. Elijah was starting to regret making a bet with a gargoyle and losing; apparently, Brooklyn was pretty good at video games, and now the teen had to face his punishment.
"I don't care if the wind's strong enough," the deaf boy told him, "I'm not flying into the sky just because you beat me by 100 points!"
"You have to," the red gargoyle reminded him. "You lost fair and square; if I had lost, I'd be signing for the rest of the evening, but I didn't, so suck it up!"
"And technically," the green gargoyle told him, "we don't fly; we glide on the air currents."
"Oh, so you're basically falling slowly" Elijah retorted angrily.
"Remember to adjust for the extra weight," Hudson called out, he and Jeffrey coming out to watch what would happen, and make sure that Elijah was safe. "If ye don't, you'll drop him."
"What?! That's it," the teen started to say, making his way towards the house. "Bet or no bet, I'm not gonna risk my life and-" He found Bronx blocking his path, whimpering and trying to nudge him towards the younger gargoyles.
"Nuh-uh," he told Bronx, trying to shoo him away. "Not you too! Why do you even care; you can't even fly!" The dog-gargoyle growled at that comment, but remained adamant, pushing him back towards Brooklyn, giving him a death glare.
"It'll be fine," Brooklyn assured him. "We're stronger than we look; I've carried two people at once before."
"And besides," Lexington added, "you came outside a minute ago, meaning you secretly want to see what gliding's like; you're probably just having cold feet."
"What- Since when did you become a psychologist," the teen demanded, turning towards the younger gargoyle.
"Since I needed to distract you long enough for Brooklyn to grab you."
"Wha-" He felt someone grab his shoulders, propping him up by wrapping their arms underneath his armpits.
"Try not to scream," the red gargoyle told him, suddenly shooting into the sky, carrying him along.
"How's he doing so far," Jeffrey asked, unable to see how his nephew was doing. In response, a loud scream echoed through the night, somewhere high above them.
"He's fine," Lex assured him. "But I think he'll probably be playing video games more often to improve his game!"
Try and Stay Awake
"'I like to see an angry Englishman,' said Poirot. 'They are very amusing. The more emotional they feel the less command they have of language.'" Hudson paused while reading the paragraph to take another sip of his iced tea before continuing.
The nighttime reading group had now moved onto Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express [per Elijah's suggestion], and right now, it was the aged gargoyle's turn to read. By now, he was good at reading, though he sometimes hesitated before certain words, and his accent made some parts of the story more difficult for the others to understand. However, no one complained, and listened with rapt attention. Well, almost everybody.
Elijah, though he enjoyed the book [it was a mystery classic with an ending most first-time readers never saw coming], they were currently at an uninteresting part, and the old gargoyle's monotone reading was starting to get to him. He sat on the floor, leaning against the couch as he scratched behind Bronx's ears; even the gargoyle-dog was starting to get tired, his eyes drooping shut. Brooklyn had patrol that night, so he could not have a silent conversation with his friend, so he tried to amuse himself until the chapter ended; then it would be his turn to read.
First, he tried signing the entire alphabet with his right hand, since his left was still petting Bronx. It got boring after four or five times, so he decided to try something else. He took a sip of his iced tea, letting one of the ice cubes sit on his tongue, seeing how long he could last before it hurt too much. Five seconds, and now his tongue was numb. Elijah looked over at his uncle, wondering how the heck he was still awake, then down at Gilly, who slept peacefully by her master's side. The deaf teen sighed, wondering how he would make it to the next chapter without falling asleep.
And he did not. When Hudson finally finished reading, he looked over at the teen, finding him passed out next to a now asleep Bronx.
"They've fallen asleep," he told Jeffrey.
"Well it is nearly midnight," the blind author told him yawning a little. "I guess Elijah must've been pretty tired."
"Aye, but what's Bronx's excuse?" He got up from his chair, going over to the sleeping gargoyle and nudging him awake. "Thanks fer listenin' so intently, Bronx." The gar-dog woke with a start, giving the old gargoyle a whimper and a apologetic look. The tan gargoyle tried to stay angry, but could not.
"You're makin' me soft-hearted," he complained, going over to the door. "I think we'll be leavin' now; Elijah'll want ta hear the rest of the story, and we'll might be able to catch the end of our show if we leave now."
"I agree," Jeffrey replied, making to get out of his chair. "I'll wake him up so you can say goodbye."
"No need for that; he looks pretty tired." Hudson walked over to the asleep teen, picked him up, and placed him gently on the couch, grabbing the nearby afgahn blanket and spreading it over the teen. "I think he'll be sleepin' in here tonight."
"Thank you, Hudson."
"No trouble at all. Come, Bronx." As the winged gargoyle left the room, the blue one followed, pausing only to nudge Elijah's hand before he left.
"I might as well hit the sack," the author said to himself, getting to his feet and feeling around for the ice tea glasses. On his way out of the room, he paused, reaching over the edge of the couch and putting a hand on his nephew's shoulder.
"Goodnight," he whispered, standing there for a moment before leaving the room, Gilly not far behind.
A Quiet Night at the Clock Tower
Brooklyn roared as the stone skin broke off of him, falling in pieces around him as he woke up on his usual perch. Around him, the others were awakening as well, and he did a quick head count to make sure everyone was there; while they doubted that they would be attacked in their sleep on top of the police building, there was always the chance that someone would find a way.
"Elisa," Angela said happily, and everyone turned to find their first friend standing nearby, wearing her usual red jacket and giving them all a smile.
"Have a nice sleep," she asked.
"Definitely," Broadway replied. "What's in the bag?"
"Just a few gifts for you all," she replied, opening the backpack. "That movie you all wanted to see finally came out on VHS."
"YES," Lex cheered, accepting the tape from Elisa. "'Revenge of the Killer Robots Part Seven!'"
"I hear it's the best one," Broadway added, looking at it with an awestruck expression.
"Now if that isn't the most idiotic-sounding movie I've ever heard of," Goliath commented.
"For Hudson and Bronx," the detective continued, giving the tan gargoyle a box of earl grey tea and the blue gargoyle another soccer ball, since he pretty much destroyed the last one, and because he kept swallowing the tennis balls.
"Thank ye, lass," the old gargoyle grinned. "I was runnin' low." Bronx, meanwhile, was already starting to chew the ball, indicating its soon to be short lifespan.
"And for Brooklyn," she added, pulling out a large book, "the dictionary you were looking for."
"Why would you need a dictionary," the small green gargoyle asked, figuring a book could not compare to the masterpiece that was ROTKR Seven.
"It's an ASL dictionary," he explained, holding up the cover. "It has pictures and instructions on how to sign words so I can work on my vocabulary. Thanks, Elisa!"
"No problem," she told him. "But when do I get to meet this mysterious friend of yours? Are you guys gonna show him the castle?"
"Perhaps," Goliath said, "but we should check with his uncle first; he wants to make sure Elijah is properly situated and used to his new school before allowing a visit her to distract him."
"Understandable," the detective replied, looking over at Broadway, who had taken the tape from Lex and was holding it out of his reach. "Be careful, it's a rental!"
"I'll stop them," Angela said patiently, going over to break the two apart.
"How do you sign 'movie,'" Brooklyn muttered to himself, flipping through the pages of the dictionary as Hudson and Bronx made their way into the attic of the Clock Tower.
"How do you like your gift, Goliath," Elisa asked him.
"What… gift," he asked, clearly confused.
"Well, those three'll be watching that movie, Hudson'll be having some earl grey and either fall asleep or go visit the Robbins', Bronx'll pretty much destroy that ball then pass out, and Brooklyn will be studying all night. I just gave you a peaceful and quiet evening; you did say you wanted to finish that book from the library without anyone interrupting you."
He could not help but smile as he realized she was right. "Thank you."
"Now I gotta go," she said, pulling the backpack over her shoulders, "but we'll talk soon, okay?"
"Fine, he said, giving her a small wave as she left, thankful for her friendship and kindness.
"So that's how you sign it," the red gargoyle said, walking off with the book in one hand, his other waving through the air. Goliath gave him one last look before heading towards the library, ready for a peaceful night of reading.
Mrs. Flemming's Request
"At least your scales have improved," Mrs. Flemming told him, sitting on a stool nearby and sipping some tea. "Again."
Elijah sighed; Wednesdays, which were the days he spent an hour after school practicing the piano with the Choir Director, were now his least favorite day, and this was only the third lesson. He was starting to seriously consider quitting playing piano for the choir, since it meant an extra hour of having to deal with the most nit-picking person on the face of the Earth. However, knowing he could not leave the class [though he weekly checked the front office for any news of an opening in another class], he started to play the scales again, trying not to making a mistake.
This is insulting, he thought, his fingers moving across the keys. I've been playing for over six years, and she still insists on making me play nothing but scales!
Maybe it was just some form of torture for him for talking back at her on his first day in the class; he made a mental note to never be rude to a teacher again. Then, he remembered he did not even want to be here right now, and wondered why he cared what kind of practice she was making him do.
"Well, you are improving," she told him when he finished, getting up from her stool and grabbing a packet from a nearby music stand, placing it in front of him. "Try a song from here."
"'The Greatest Hits of Elton John,'" he read, shocked that she was finally giving him a song to play, but also surprised by the music choice.
"A remarkable pianist," she told him. "Play the opening of Rocket Man."
Elijah opened the packet to the right page, and felt his heart sink; it was not the most complicated piece, but there was no way he would be able to play it well enough on the first try. Even with the slow tempo, he needed time to get the tune in his head, since he had never heard the song before, but the Choir teacher did not look like she would give him that time.
"I… I can't play this," he told her.
"Why not," Mrs. Flemming asked, arching an eyebrow at him. "Too difficult?"
"No… I just… I can't play it."
"That sounds like quitter talk," she told him, walking over to where he was, giving him a few seconds notice as she set her mug on the edge of the piano and sat on the bench next to him. "I assume you're the type who needs to hear the tune first before playing?"
" … Y-Yes," he stammered, not just thrown off by her suddenly sitting next to him as he scooted as far as he could away from her, but also at how she somehow knew that he usually preferred to know what a song sounded like before playing it.
"Once again," she muttered, "I have to do everything."
Flexing her fingers, she started to play the slow song, the notes filling the choir room with the sweet melody. Elijah had to admit that it sounded good, and he alternated looking at the teacher's hands and the notes, trying to make sure he didn't miss anything. She played the entire first page before getting up from the stool and grabbing her tea. "Now you play."
The deaf teen slid into the middle part of the bench, feeling slightly more confident in his abilities. Scanning the page, he placed his fingers on the right keys before he started to play. He was a lot slower than the teacher was, and he got a few wrong notes here and there, but he kept playing, the Choir Director standing nearby, silently judging him. When he finished, he looked up at her, waiting for her to say something, and she wasted no time.
"That was rough," Mrs. Flemming said bluntly. "But there is some promise, and I use that word very lightly. Now, I assume Amanda told you about our first concert in early November?"
"Yes," Elijah replied, starting to get a bad feeling at where this was going.
"Well, that leaves about six weeks for you to learn to play this song perfectly," she told him. "I believe you can, and you will, since I'm making it a grade."
I figured as much, the teen thought grumpily.
"I think we're good for today," she continued, looking at the clock. "I'll give you the rest of the half-hour to do whatever it is you find to occupy your time after school. Please tell me you at least read."
"Yes," he replied shortly, getting to his feet. "I read books."
"Good; because Lord knows if anyone your age even knows what a book is with those new electronic contraptions they've set up in the school library." The teen remembered something about them adding four new computers to the library, but kept silent. "Try to listen to the whole song if you can, and try to find a piano to practice on, even if it is electronic." She shuddered at the thought, put on her coat, and walked toward the door. "Make sure you turn the light off on your way out." And with that, like a bat out of hell, she was gone.
"Okay," Elijah said to himself, closing the music book and putting it in his backpack. "Now she's gone from crazy to just plain confusing." However, glad that he was finally free, he quickly left the room, making sure to turn out the lights before closing the door.
Lucky Number 13
Mason Grant may be a number 13 in the Illuminati, but he sure wasn't unlucky.
When a Number 5 had given him the job of going to the towns north of New York, he knew that he would find something worthwhile to the organization. That was why they sent him; something about him allowed him to find the right people that suited the Illuminati's needs. It was always their eyes; he could tell by their eyes their hopes, dreams, and most importantly, their secrets. If someone had a secret, he would find it out. And, if gargoyles were visiting somewhere up here, then that would be a pretty important secret for someone to keep.
In the meantime, however, he needed a cover that would allow him to be in the area without drawing too much attention to himself. Of course, there was the Help Wanted section of the newspaper, but being in the Illuminati means that one had access to every Job Agency on the planet. All he needed was the right one.
"'Driver wanted for disabled individual. Weisman, New York. Flexible hours, good pay, and paid vacation.'" The man looked to see who was requesting the driver.
"'Jeffrey Robbins,'" he read, recognizing the name of the famous author. Sure, it might be a little dangerous working for a celebrity, even a small one, but he would have access to a car, as well as an excuse to drive around that part of the state: to get acquainted with the countryside, towns... and their inhabitants.
"Perfect," he grinned, grabbing the nearby phone and dialing the number.
I hope you liked this chapter! Thought I'd do something different with the short stories instead of one chapter story arc.
The next chapter in the story will take place in late October of 1996; Gargoyles fans will know that this is the end of the TV show story line [Hunter's Moon Part 3] and the beginning of the comic story line. No spoilers; just thought you all deserved a heads-up.
Feel free to follow or favorite this story to be updated on new chapters, and feel free to leave a review on this chapter or others if you want. And, as usual, have a safe and happy week/weekend!
-aggiefrogger
Note: I do NOT own Murder on the Orient Express, Agatha Christie, Hercule Poirot, Elton John or Rocketman in ANY way, shape or form!