Disclaimer: All characters from Gargoyles are copyright Disney. All other characters are mine.
"Brooklyn! Are you coming with us to the House of Mouse Valentine's Day party?" Angela asked. The clan of gargoyles had awakened. The clan's leader, Goliath, and the patriarch, Hudson, had left on evening patrol -- leaving the youngsters at the castle.
"No, thanks," replied the rust-colored gargoyle, sinking into a plush barcalounger. "I'll just stay here and spend a quiet evening with Bronx."
The aforementioned gargoyle beast passed by, nuzzling Boudicca.
Broadway pointed out the obvious. "I guess Bronx has a scheduling conflict."
"You three go. I'll stay here and watch a movie."
Lexington, Broadway, and Angela shrugged and left.
Brooklyn crossed his arms. Going for a glide's out of the question. With my luck I'd see a lot of couples going by. What's worse? Being left out, or loving in vain? It's not my fault. I'm nice to girls. It's just that...where the heck am I going to find a female gargoyle in New York City? Maggie wasn't technically a gargoyle, but she liked Talon. And I guess I can see why. He understood was she was going through. Angela...where did I go wrong? What's Broad got that I don't? Besides the appetite?
Stop it, Brook. You're being selfish. But I can't help feeling envious.
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(The House of Mouse)
"Brooklyn should have come for the snacks," Broadway commented, shoving a Jafar Bar into his mouth.
Lexington smirked at the others. "I know just how to cheer up his Valentine's Day woes without going to Avalon. What about Malevola? We just tell them separately that they have an admirer, then bring them together. Cupid can do his stuff."
Angela shook her head. "It sounds manipulative. And what makes you think they'll even get along?"
"Look at what they have in common!" The green-gold gargoyle argued. "The stubborn streak, the sarcasm."
Broadway agreed. "They may even secretly like each other already, but they need a push to get them to admit their feelings."
"This is not modern-day Shakespeare!" Angela cried. "I don't think we should play with their emotions like that."
"If it doesn't work out, they can at least be friends," Broadway suggested.
"And I saw Malevola last night on patrol," Lexington began. "Dr. Thal's away on a week-long conference. She's lonely."
Angela resigned. "Fine. I guess it's harmless. But how do we get them together?"
Broadway thought a moment. "You and I will see Malevola and tell her Brooklyn wants to see her tomorrow night."
"And leave the gentleman to me." Lexington rose from the table. "I've already got a plan."
(New York City)
Lexington exited the dimension terminal, then glided back to Castle Wyvern as fast as he could. He found Brooklyn in the barcalounger in front of the TV, still, eyes closed. A tennis game was on. Lex turned off the television set.
"Hey! Turn that back on! I was watching it!"
"Brook, I happen to know a girl, but you'd blow it."
"Oh, yeah? I may not be successful with the ladies, but if you got me one my species--"
"Wanna bet?"
"You can have dibs on the TV for a month!"
"Just what I wanted to hear." Lexington grinned. "She'll come over tomorrow night. You spend part of the night together, then meet Broadway and Angela at the Harlequin Theatre for an evening matinee."
"Deal!"
At the same time, Lexington's companions found their Beatrice sitting on the balcony of Dr. Lee Thal's townhouse.
"Hi, guys. What brings you here?" greeted Malevola.
"Uh, we just wanted to let you know that Brooklyn really likes you." Broadway blurted out.
"And he'd like to spend an evening with you." Angela hesitated, then added. "But you don't have to."
Malevola's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Like a date?"
Broadway grinned sheepishly. "Sort of."
"I'd love to!" declared the redhaired gargess. "When?"
Angela smiled a little. "Tomorrow night, as soon as you wake up, come to the castle."
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(The next evening)
"So, where'd you find her?" Brooklyn asked. "Avalon?"
"Nope," replied Lexington. "Here she comes."
Malevola landed on the castle turret. "Hello, Brooklyn."
Brooklyn could barely keep his mouth from dropping open. What! Her! Hotblooded, mercurial Malevola? She's the daughter of Demona, for cryin' out loud! Then again, so is Angela. Hmm, maybe I should just take this chance. How hard could it be to entertain her for one night? "Um, you look really nice tonight?" Oh, Walt. Of all the cheesy pick-up lines!
Malevola didn't seem to mind. Pink appeared in her cheeks. "Thank you."
They went into the castle library.
"It's so beautiful," the redhead sighed. "I wish I knew more about it."
"I could tell you, but it's a long story."
"I'm all ears."
"OK, it all started in Scotland a thousand years ago..." Inserting jokes and sarcastic comments at spontaneous intervals, Brooklyn gave a narrative starting from childhood and recounting the Wyvern massacre, the remaining clan's subsequent curse, the awakening a thousand years later, Manhattan -- keeping it as succinct as possible.
His audience listened intently. "It's capable of a soap opera," she said finally.
"Truth is stranger than fiction." Brooklyn glanced at the clock. "The movie doesn't start for another hour or so. Want to go for a glide?"
"Sure. I don't get as nervous as I used to. I'd like to see more of the city. The doctor doesn't like to let me leave his neighborhood. He thinks I'm made of glass."
Brooklyn made a courtly bow. "After you, milady." The twosome returned to the battlements and spread their wings.
"I still feel a little scared," Malevola confessed. "I keep worrying if the wind will stop--hey!" She swooped down, toward a small area of Central Park.
People were in costume. The girl spotted a huge steamer trunk next to the bushes. She pulled out a long leather trenchcoat and fedora and tossed them to Brooklyn. "Put those on." Malevola drew out a long, Southern Belle style dress and a wide straw hat. She wrapped her wings around herself like a cloak and added a sequined mask.
"I remember when Lex, Broad, and I did this on Halloween." The costumed creatures joined the party. Nobody seemed to notice.
Brendan Yale was standing behind a podium, wearing a clown suit complete with baggy pants and a red nose. "I'd like to thank all of you for coming to my costume party. Margot was promoted to District Attorney yesterday." Mr. Yale neglected to mention that Margot's promotion was opportunistic. The previous District Attorney had dropped dead from a heart attack.
Brooklyn snatched a handful of hors d'oeuvres from the banquet tray and stuffed them in his mouth. He heard a familiar voice next to him.
"The soda's warm."
"Shut up, Banquo. I told you we could crash this party! Doesn't it feel good to get away from Castaway?"
"Especially when he's in one of his moods."
"Sometimes I think we should just crawl back to Macbeth."
"Yeah, Fleance. The extra pay just isn't worth it."
"Except his royal Scottish highness fired us."
Brooklyn took a deep breath. Calm down. Find Malevola and get out of here fast. He scanned the crowd and found the redhead playing bocce with some other party guests. He grabbed her just as she was taking her turn. "We've got to get out of here -- fast!"
"Why?"
"I'll explain later!" They ducked behind the same clump of bushes to return their disguises to the costume trunk.
Unfortunately, Margot Yale had ducked behind the same group of bushes to fix her makeup. She was dressed in a replica of the white dress Marilyn Monroe wore in The Seven Year Itch. "Leaving so soon? What great costumes?"
Malevola removed her mask and hat, then pulled off the hoop-skirted gown. "You're Margot Yale?"
"I don't recall inviting any gargoyles, but yes."
The redhead's cheeks turned red. "What do you have against us? Goliath saved your sorry behind several times before that train."
"I didn't realize --"
"That still doesn't take away the things you said about the clan!" Malevola wailed. "What you said on Nightwatch, imprisoning my sister for something she didn't do, and helping Castaway!"
"John Castaway seemed so sincere," the lawyer retorted. "And I thought the young female gargoyle had bombed the building."
"What's wrong with you! All we want is the right to live. You know why Goliath and the clan saved that train instead of letting it splatter the countryside? They didn't do it for profits. Or even for your approval. They did it because they want to live in this city with humans, not against them. Protecting the defenseless is a gargoyle instinct." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "You don't even know us!"
Unfortunately, the two Quarrymen overheard the lecture. They discreetly peeked behind the brush.
Maybe I should have left Margot Yale out of my history lesson, thought Brooklyn. He took Malevola's arm. "Come on. Let's get out of here!"
Margot was left alone. A tear rolled down her cheek, the first she had shed in years. Why was I so hard on them anyway?
Fleance smirked to Banquo as they slipped out of the party. "This is our lucky night."
Castaway was in his office, filling out his tax form. Fanatic gargoyle hunter or not, he still had to pay corporate and income taxes. His radio beeped. "Castaway."
It was Banquo. "We spotted two gargoyles leaving Central Park?"
"Goliath?"
"No. Small fry." That was Fleance. "Want us to shoot them out of the sky for ya?"
"That won't be necessary. I want you to bring them to me. Alive."
"Awww..." whined the two flunkies.
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Meanwhile, the young gargoyles were seated on a rooftop.
Brooklyn handed Malevola a bottle of soda he had bought from the vending machine. "I know you're upset."
"I just wanted to tell that ungrateful brat exactly how I felt."
OK, definitely Demona's kid but less prone to violence. "It's good you didn't attack her or something."
"I wasn't going to. I guess I'm just an outspoken gargoyle."
"Yeah, but Margot Yale's a lawyer. And you can't reason with a lawyer."
"I just wish humans like her would leave us alone. Humans have enough problems without trying to understand a whole different species."
"Hey, I'm just glad the Quarrymen don't give us nearly as much grief as they used to."
Malevola finished her soda. "This is good. Dr. Thal never let me have junk food."
"Are you hungry? I could get popcorn and candy at the movie."
"The movie started thirty minutes ago. By the time we get there, it'll be halfway over. We could just stay here. Isn't it nice and peaceful?"
Brooklyn leaned against her and closed his eyes. "Yes, it is." Without thinking, he added, "Angela."
Malevola shrunk away from him. "Angela?"
"I'm sorry. It's just before I met you, I had a crush on Angela. I didn't mean anything by it. Don't be so fickle."
"So now I'm fickle?"
Strike two. "I'm sorry. Angela never liked me anyway. She's dating Broadway. We were supposed to meet them at the theatre. You're going to laugh at this, but I made a bet. About you."
"A bet?"
"Lex said I couldn't have a successful date, but I said I could. So I was to arrive at the theatre holding your--"
Malevola's eyes flashed red. "Excuse me? Is that I am to you? Just an instrument to prove your dating worth? I thought you were better than that!"
"Wait!"
"Get away from me!"
"Malevola, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings! I didn't even know--" Too late. She had glided off. Strike three, you're out.
The spurned girl landed in a desert alley. She leaned against a dumpster and began to cry. Something touched her shoulder. Thin, metal fingers, almost like tendrils. She looked up.
A tall, glittering silver robotic gargoyle was standing in front of here. "There, there, now what's the matter?"
"Nothing."
"Come on," the robot coaxed. "I don't like to see a lady cry."
"The guy I saw tonight was a creep."
"What's your name?"
"Malevola. And you are..."
"I am Coldsteel, but you can call me Steel for short. It's not often I see other gargoyles. Are you one of Goliath's?"
"Sort of."
"Why let a bad date ruin your evening? Why don't you come with me?"
"I don't know."
"Malevola!" Brooklyn burst into the alley. "This guy is a total slimeball!"
"I guess it takes one to know one."
"I know you're mad at me, but use your common sense. You don't know this guy!"
Coldsteel laughed. "Let the lady decide what she wants to do."
Malevola took the robot's claw. "I'd love to."
The robot activated his jetpack and flew off. Brooklyn groaned and glided off after them.
Coldsteel landed on the roof of a garden nursery. "You see those two?"
Visible in the moonlight were two figures. One was a cyborg with streaming white hair. The other was fully robotic, golden metal gleaming in the dim light. The former was presenting a bouquet of nightblooms to the latter.
"The girl is my former lover. She dumped me for my evil brother." Coldsteel lied through his metal teeth. He handed his companion a smoke bomb. "Drop it on them. The haze it makes will blind them and I can finish them off."
"But I don't want to hurt anybody."
The evil robot-gargoyle seized Malevola's wrists. "Let me clarify. Either you help me kill them, or you can share their fate."
"HEY!" Brooklyn finally caught up, landing on the roof. "Leave her alone!"
Coldsteel snickered. "Is that a challenge, Scrawny?" Brooklyn attempted to charge, but Coldsteel flipped him. The rust gargoyle slammed into the side of the building next to the nursery. Malevola put down the smoke bomb and leaped on Coldsteel, raking her claws across his back. The metal tore open, revealing wires. Receiving minor electric shocks, she yanked out a handful while Brooklyn was dodging Coldsteel's extending tendrils.
"There's too many wires!" Malevola cried. "I can't disable him!" Coldsteel whipped his body violently, knocking her off. He turned toward her, wrist laser popping from his arm. The robot was momentarily distracted by Brooklyn slamming into him with all his weight. Coldsteel -- constructed of a durable alloy containing light metal to allow for easier movement -- staggered over the edge of the roof and fell. Unfortunately for him, the wires Malevola had yanked out were from his jet pack. He crashed to the concrete pavement...right in front of Coldstone and Coldfire.
Malevola turned to Brooklyn. "You could have been killed!"
"We still could be," he retorted. "Let's scram!" Suddenly, Banquo and Fleance, flanked by twenty-two other Quarrymen surrounded them. "Uh oh."
"We can't fight them all off. What do we do?"
Brooklyn snatched up the smoke bomb and activated it. Thick, black smoke instantly filled the air. The Quarrymen coughed.
"Hey!" yelled one.
"This smoke is as thick as my grandma's pea soup!"
"It's stinging my eyes!"
"My lungs feel like they're on fire!"
"I can't see!"
"I think I've got one!"
"You've got my neck, you moron!"
"Someone's elbow is in my face!"
"Wimps!" growled Banquo as the smoke finally cleared.
"They're gone!" Fleance squeaked. Coldstone and Coldfire were on the edge of the roof. Coldsteel had taken this moment to slink away.
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The young gargoyles had found another perch.
"Are you okay?" Brooklyn asked.
"I'm fine. You?"
"If the concrete cure-all didn't work so well, I'd definitely feel these bruises tomorrow night."
"I'm so sorry I went with Steel just to make you jealous."
"You were mad. I shouldn't have made that bet. Truce?"
"Truce."
"Say, Malev. I know a place in my namesake that sells great ice cream. Want to go?"
"You have to ask?"
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"WHAT!" Castaway yelled. The glass window panes quivered. "YOU LOST THEM!"
Fleance held up the videophone screen. The other Quarrymen were either unconscious or groaning in pain. "It wasn't our fault, boss. We ran into these two metal gargoyles."
"It's true," added Banquo. "It was like nothing we've ever seen before."
"Twenty four of you could not capture two young gargoyles?" By now, Castaway's face was beet-red. "Tell me how lame that is!"
One of the assistants in the office smirked. "I'd say that hits the danger zone on the lame meter."
Castaway shut off the radio. "I guess I'll just have to take matters into my own hands!"
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"I think Sam was short for Samson."
"Yeah, but where's Delilah?"
"I love how he thinks he's Walt's gift to women!"
"Which women returned!"
"He had a certain persistence that got him what he wanted."
"Yeah, about every hundredth try!"
"Brooklyn, what are the chances of us liking the same show?"
The two gargoyles laughed, recounting episodes of a sitcom while they finished their ice cream cones. They were on the Brooklyn Bridge. By now, traffic was minimal.
Brooklyn spotted a blonde man coming toward them. "Hey, look who finally decided to leave the office. Malevola, I'd like you to meet Mr. John Castaway, Il Duce of the Quarrymen!"
"That's him?"
A fired net barely missed them. The targets glided down below the bridge.
"Don't they ever give up?" whispered Malevola. "Maybe if we just wait here until he goes away."
"I don't know. He might try to draw us out. I say we glide for it."
"When, though? He's looking for us right now!"
Castaway's videophone beeped. He picked it up.
It was the assistant. "It's an emergency!"
"What?"
"I'm proofreading your tax forms. Where did the proceeds from the last fund raiser go?"
"Why is this an emergency?"
"Do you want an audit? So where did that money go?"
"My Swiss account, stupid!" He glanced at the sky to see two winged forms retreating. "Blast it! I had them cornered on the Brooklyn Bridge, and I lost them!"
"Sorry, boss."
"Sorry doesn't catch them!"
"Couldn't you have just blown up the bridge?"
"I'm trying to stay out of prison, genius. That means minimal property damage. Razing the Brooklyn Bridge is not minimal!" Castaway activated his jet pack.
"We ought to send that guy a thank-you note," Malevola panted as the pair stopped to rest on a party-supply warehouse. A box of balloons and a tank of water was next to them.
"Yeah," agreed Brooklyn. "He helped as much as Xanatos."
"Not quite," Castaway had finally caught up with them. "Come quietly, and you won't get hurt." He fired a multi-ammo gun. Brooklyn was struck in the chest with a laser blast.
"You creep!" Malevola shouted. She curled her hand into a fist and punched Castaway in the nose with all the force she could muster. The hunter clutched his nose with both hands, dropping his weapon. Blood was dripping between his fingers. He could feel the nose swelling. It was probably broke.
Malevola was not done yet. She pushed the hunter off the roof. He was encased in armor, but landed on his back -- effectively demolishing his jet-pack.
"You two will pay for this humiliation!" Castaway spat out a mouthful of blood and held his handkerchief to his nose. Suddenly a torrent of projectiles was coming down on him. Balloons filled with water were being thrown on him at a fearful rate. Several of them broke on his armor. One landed on his head, soaking his blonde hair. His radio was soaked, thus he was unable to call for backup.
The young gargoyles left and glided off to Castle Wyvern.
Hudson was now seated on the barcalounger. "How did it go?"
"I had the time of my life," Malevola squealed.
"Quarrymen aside, I had a really good time too," Brooklyn added.
The elderly gargoyle's good eye widened. "You ran into Quarrymen?"
"Not to mention Coldsteel," admitted Brooklyn.
Lexington came in. "So, how did it go?"
Angela was behind him. "You two missed a good movie."
"And the popcorn was well-buttered!" chimed in Broadway. "Except they were out of Chuckles bars. But the soda was very good!"
Malevola smiled. "You're the Leonard Maltin of the concession stand."
Lexington's shoulders sagged. "I guess this means I have to miss that Knowing Channel documentary about the development of the computer."
"Oh, you can have the TV," Brooklyn interrupted. "That bet was stupid anyway. I've found that I like this girl for who she is." He threw his arms around Malevola. She looked surprised, then returned the hug.
The sun came up, with its lullaby. The gargoyles hardened into organic stone, Brooklyn and Malevola still in their hug.
Tomorrow had come.
The end.