AUTHOR'S NOTE, PLEASE READ FIRST: I hail from Iceland, and when they
started showing Gargoyles I tried watching them whenever I could. Sadly,
there are many, many shows that I did not see, and now they're stopped
showing them.
I work in a video store, and sometimes it can be boring, so one day I just decided to give it a try and write a story. This is what came out of it.
I would like to point out that I cannot be sure if or when I'll post another chapter. I guess it'll mostly depend on wether if people will like it or hate it. Feel free to tell me of your opinions.
On that note, I think I'll also post this on fanfiction.net that way you can also tell your thoughts and opinions.
As for WHEN this happens, I am still trying to learn the timeline of the Gargoyles, but I can tell you that it does not happen during or after Gargoyles Saga. I did consider making it happen after GS, but there were just too many holes and factors to consider.
I've noticed many people choose they're stories after shows like the Hunter's Moon, but since that show was one of far too many that I missed, well......I'll think of something.
Well then, enough of chat, let's see if you'll like what I've written here.
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Somewhere in Scotland, 3:10 PM.
The atmosphere inside the small bus was mixed. Some were chatting to each other, others had headphones on and seemed to be enjoying Scotland's nature, while the rest had serious and somewhat grim expressions on they're faces.
All of them were dressed like tourists wanting to go mountain-climbing, but their faces made it plain obvious they weren't.
Then, the driver spoke.
"Alright people, we're reaching the base. Pack your things together."
.
The 'base' was far away from any settlement, and looked like a big summer house on a big hill. It looked like it was made out of strong wood, had two floors and the area around it made it look like it had been cut out of a 'Perfect Houses' magazine. A green Hummer was parked outside.
As the people got out of the bus and started taking their luggage from it, 3 people came out of the house. They too were dressed like tourists but walked like military men as they approached the people, who were facing them in a single line.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome." The man had no accent. He was an American in his late 30's. Tall, looked to be well muscled under his green sweater and was handsome. And though his voice was warm and welcoming, his eyes were stone-cold, ready to commit terrible things and not be bothered with it at all.
"I'm sure you must be all tired from the long trip, so take your time to relax and settle in. We can get to know each other later on, and since we now have someone who knows how to cook, maybe we'll have a decent dinner for a change."
The joke earned a bit of a chuckle, nothing more.
As the people walked to the house, one of the women from the bus walked next to the youngest man of the group, who had spent the entire time in the bus alone, and had never spoken a word to anyone.
He was about average height, brown hair, light-skinned, almost pale, and medium built. Of course, he didn't look like he was heavily muscled like most people in the group, but he did look like he worked out now and then. He seemed to be somewhere between 20-22 years old. He wasn't the ugly looking type, but he neither was Leonardo De Caprio or Brad Pitt.
He had no expression on his face, and the area around his mouth suggested he rarely smiled.
He also wore a pair of dark sunglasses, hiding his eyes.
"Hi, my name's Janice, what's yours?"
"Walton."
"Scotland sure looks beautiful at this time of year, don't you think?" The woman asked cheerfully and flashed a big happy smile, obviously expecting a long conversation.
"Mm-hm." Was the only reaction she got. He hadn't even bothered to look at her, and her big smile wavered a bit, but she refused to give up.
"So, what did you think about being one of the selected? I mean, wow, to be trusted in handling such a serious matter! You sure must have some great skills!" Again with the cheerful voice, and a subtle hint at the word 'skills'.
"I only got selected because I can cook." If his voice had been anymore colder, steam would have come out of his mouth.
Hearing his voice made the woman stop dead in her tracks, while the young man and the rest of the group went inside.
The driver, who had stayed behind to park the bus, had seen her talking to him, so he walked up to her with a dark look on his face, placed a hand on her shoulder and almost roughly spun her around to face him.
"Stay away from him, Janice. The guy's trouble, nothing more."
The slightly startled look on her face was replaced by anger.
"Hey fuck you, Harry! In case your tiny brain forgot, YOU broke up with ME, and if you think you can just-" Her ranting was stopped by an equally angered Harry.
"HEY! I hadn't forgot! I just don't want you to try and have something with THAT guy! Don't get fooled by his 'oooh, I'm soooo quiet and mysterious, try and get to know me!' looks, you're not the first to fall for it and try starting a conversation with him. He has NEVER shown the slightest interest to anyone, and all the women stopped trying with him after they were told a bit about his past."
During they're time together as a couple, Janice had learned how to tell if Harry was lying, and to her slight surprise, she saw he wasn't, and the curiosity got the better of her.
"What do you mean, about his past?" Harry looked quickly towards the house to ensure no-one was listening, then back to Janice.
"He's an ex-con, Janice, and he didn't serve out his sentence or is on probation. He only got out because of some technicality, that his lawyer used to get him released."
Surprise filled her face, as Janice looked towards the house, as if expecting to see the man standing there. Seeing that he wasn't, she turned back to Harry.
"What was he in for?"
With a grim expression, Harry leaned his head to Janice's ear, and whispered something.
Janice gasped, her eyes became wide and all color was drained from her face.
.
. I got a room all for myself. Lucky me.
It had a single bed, a drawer, a closet, a desk and a chair with it and a mirror on the wall. Another door led to the bathroom. A nice big window showed the green forest and the mountains, which was probably where everybody would be going soon.
I had just dropped my bag on the bed when the doors opened, revealing one of the 3 men that were here before us. He, too, was all muscles.
"Hey, you're the cook, right? Sarge wants you in the kitchen now. We've had nothing to eat but beans, and there's a chance we might go out tonight, so we need all the strength we can get. Dinner is to be ready within an hour, so get to it." When finished speaking, the guy left as quickly as he came. Judging by the sound of his voice, he was here because of his muscles, and not his I.Q.
Taking my time to get out of the coat I was issued, I then opened my bag and took out my cooking tools. I was told this place would have all the food materials and the tools, but better safe then sorry, right?
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As Walton was about to leave the room, he removed his sunglasses and looked at his reflection.
His eyes were light-gray, and held nothing at all. No warmth, no coldness......nothing. Just emptiness. He also looked like he slept little, yet did not appear to be affected by lack of sleep.
Looking into his own eyes for just a second, he placed his sunglasses back on and left the room.
.
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4:00 PM.
"A bit early for dinner, don't you think?" All the people were gathered around a large table. 8 men and 2 women. The cook was still in the kitchen, making him the 11th.
On the wall above a fireplace hung a large flag that almost covered the entire wall.
A blue colored flag, whose golden markings were a big Q with a hammer in it.
The Quarrymen's insignia.
The man, who at the moment was only known as 'Sarge,' simply shifted his head towards the kitchen door, obviously not going to say anything until they were all present. Sitting on his left and right were the other two men.
They didn't have to wait long, as the kitchen door opened, and Walton, still wearing his sunglasses and an apron saying 'Kill The Chef', emerged holding a big tray, followed by a delicious smell.
"Mmmm, that smells good. What is it?" the Sarge smiled, but his smile did not reach his cold eyes.
"Omelet." Walton said as he placed the tray on the table, then made his way back to the kitchen, and soon came back with another omelet tray, and after placing that one on the table, he took a seat.
Janice looked at him, but quickly looked the other way, trying her best to ignore him.
One of the people started reaching for a tray, but was stopped by Sarge.
"I know some introductions are in order, along with answers to questions I'm sure you all have. I assure you, all questions will be answered after we're finished eating. However, I think we should pray before eating, so we can receive our Lord's blessing over what we are here to do." No-one voiced an objection, and everybody placed they're hands together to pray.
All except for the cook.
And soon enough, all eyes were on him, as if he was expected to follow they're example.
"I'm not the religious type." He stated.
"No surprise there." Harry mumbled, though loud enough for everyone to hear. Sarge did not seem to notice, too busy looking at Walton, attempting to look at him straight into his eyes, which proved difficult, for not only because of his sunglasses, but also his head wasn't even looking in his direction.
"And just why have you no faith, if I may ask?" He may have sounded not really interested, but to a trained ear, you could detect the dangerous edge in his voice, and told the person in question that if valued his health, he'd better answer quickly.
"I believe what I see with my own eyes." He didn't even move his head to Sarge as he answered, which seemed to only aggravate him even more.
"The Lord does not show himself just to convince his existence to us. His creation of us is more then enough to make us love him."
"Perhaps." Walton finally turned his head to Sarge. "But if we all die today, then I guess we'll find out if Hell truly exists."
The sounds of Sarge grinding his teeth could almost be heard, as he was obviously fighting the urge to bodily harm the insubordination of his team. Even kill him, maybe.
"Let us pray." Sarge then said in a surprisingly calm voice. The others, who had only sat and watch the two man exchange words, immediately did as they were told.
"Dear Lord, bless this food, for your loyal soldiers will soon engage Satan's spawns. And I ask of thee, to bless us as we head to battle, that we'll earn our rightful victory, and thus prevent these hells-pawns from claiming any more innocent lives then they already have. Blessed we are. Amen. Let's eat."
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Charles "Sarge" Jacobson, age 38, former sergeant of U.S. Marines. Made an early retirement after losing his patience over his government for their lack of actions against the so-called 'gargoyles' in Manhattan.
After going to some Quarrymen meetings, he managed to encourage some of his friends to do the same, and that by doing so, leaving the Marines to join the Quarrymen, the Q-balls would take care of them, offer them a roof over they're heads and some money for hunting and killing the 'flying beasts'.
Which was NOT the reason they left the army, to become some sort of mercenary, but to do the 'right thing' for humanity. His words.
Ask me, I think it's plain obvious he left the army out of lack of stripes on his shoulders. I mean, 38 years old and was still a sergeant? Please.
After dinner and some introductions, the reason why we were all here, was finally brought into light.
.
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4;20 PM.
"Ladies and gentlemen, about two months ago, Mr. Castaway realized of the possibility that New York may not be the only area that is infected with these things, and so send agents to numerous places around the globe. Me and some of my boys got sent here to Scotland. I confess that at first, we didn't hold much of a hope to find anything, until just out of sheer luck, Rico here was coming from the nearest town here with supplies, when he noticed these things flying in the night sky. And not only are these things here in Scotland, but they're nest just happens to be that mountain right over there." Sarge then pointed at the huge mountain that could be seen out of the big window in the living room, where everybody had gathered.
The mountain was some distance away. It would take about an hour to drive there, though it could take days just trying to find something there.
"Now, I know what I'm about to say is not what the guys back in New York had planned, but we are going to hit the place RIGHT NOW." The statement had the expecting results.
Worried looks were exchanged, some showed their startlement, while others voiced they're objections. The only ones that were calm, were Charles, his two lap-dogs and Walton, who didn't even look like he had heard a word.
The great and noble Sarge spoke, silencing everyone.
"Just before your arrival here, I received a message from New York. The rest of the team will not arrive, due to engine failure on their plane. However, the reason why we will not simply wait for them, is because there is a high chance the demons are aware of our knowledge of them. You see, Rico did not only spot them, he also tracked them to their lair. However, when he was leaving, they became aware of him and he barely escaped unharmed." Sarge looked to the man on his left, obviously not pleased with his 'friend's' performance. Rico did nothing, just sat there with his jaw clenched, staring straight forward.
"And just what will you attack them with? Harsh language?" All eyes were drawn to the source. Standing next to an open window, was Walton, smoking a cigarette, not even looking like he was paying any attention to the 'meeting.'
"You were all instructed to bring hammers with you, but we also have some.....extra weapons, in case there might more then we anticipate. Myself, Rico and David are trained in firearms, and I understand some of you are in the police force, so weapons will be given to those who are trained. We don't want any accidents, people."
"And just how many do you 'anticipate', SARGE? 10? 20? And better yet, the sun will set in less then two hours, so it is my opinion that we'll wait until tomorrow morning and-"
"YOU ARE NOT IN CHARGE HERE, YOU MAGGOT! I AM! AND I SAY WE ATTACK NOW! AND THAT INCLUDES YOU COOKIE!!" Walton hadn't even reacted to Sarge's outburst, but at the last statement, it got a reaction in him.
"Me? I'm a cook, not a fighter!" For a moment, Walton looked like he had lost his 'cool', wich brought a smirk on Sarge's lips.
"I don't care if you are the fuckin' gardener, you are still a part of this team, and I am ordering you to arm yourself and come with us as we attack."
Walton didn't move or say anything for a whole minute, then finally looked out the window.
"Whatever you say, fearless leader."
.
.
How the HELL did I get picked for this 'mission'? I made it clear to everyone back in New York that I'm just a cook, not some hammer-wielding weirdo, with a thing to smash statues, and too much of a chicken-shit to show my own face. Heck, I don't even believe these so-called gargoyles even exist! And yet, here I am in a room full of what look like God-fearing people, lead by someone who still hasint realised what kind of an asshole he is.
I have a feeling I'll be spending a loooooong time in those damn mountains, just to discover that those 'flying beasts' were probably nothing but some large hawks, or something.
.
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5:15PM.
The sun would be gone in about 20 minutes, maybe less, and the 'attack force' hadn't still reached the place where 'they' were supposed to be.
Everyone wore they're Quarrymen armors, 5 of them were wielding hammers, the rest were armed with assault weapons.
How they had managed to bring them into Scotland, Walton didn't know, nor did he want to.
He was too busy trying to climb the mountain without falling down. And he wasin't the only one having problems. Well, it wasin't like they were climbing mount Everest, but it was difficult to slowly climb up while wearing a heavy armor AND holding a large hammer, which didn't exactly made them easy to climb, and so it was a wonder no-one had any accidents.
But suddenly, Rico moved to one of many large bushes in the big rocks, and pulled some of it away, revealing a dark tunnel. You could practicly taste the surprise in everyone. Even Walton felt slightly surprised.
No words were spoken. They were not needed. Everybody silendly moved inside, and for the first time in a long time, Walton felt startled.
Just inside the opening of the cave, was a statue of a....something. It's legs were bend and hunched, making it looked like it was ready to pounce on anyone daring to enter the cave. The architecture was....amazingly accurate. The muscles in it, the hair, the tail, the wings on it's back, the exposed fangs and the leather armor it was wearing, looked almost amazingly real. In the dark, it could have easily been mistaken as the real thing.
"Now do you see what kind of horrible beasts these things are?" Even Sarge sounded slightly stunned, as he almost whispered. "These things are truly demonic, as they cannot withstand sunlight, and thus during the day are nothing but stones. A true sign that tells us how twisted they are, when they cannot even stand our Lord's blessed sunlight. Let the nightmare end."
Not saying anything, Sarge grabed the closest hammer, walked calmly towards the statue and the sound of the hammer charging itself could be heard, as the Sarge raised it, and without the slightest hesitation, brought it down.
When the hammer made impact, a bright flash came just before the statue exploded, smoke surrounded Sarge's figure, as pieces of the statue were thrown everywhere. When the dust settled, Sarge's calm voice was heard.
"Attack, my brothers and sisters. For the sun is almost down, and as that will happen, the demons will awaken. Let us strike as they slumber." He was so calm, so sure of himself, so...full of conviction that this was right, that HE was right and the world was wrong.
The rest silendly followed him deeper into the caves.
.
"Shit."
They had reached the end of the tunnel, only to discover that it split into several passages.
"Alright people, looks like we need to split up. Rico and Janice, take that tunnel. David, you're with me. Harry, you-" Sarge's voice was drowned at the inhuman screams that filled the cave. But it vanished as quickly as it came.
"They...they're awake.." Someone whimpered.
"We all knew it might come to this. Just remember the reason why we're all here, and keep our Lord's blessing to our hearts, and we shall emerge as victors."
The group was splitted into groups, and Walton got Harry and were send to the tunnel for to the right.
.
"Uh-oh, now what?" Before Walton and Harry, were two other tunnel openings.
Before Walton could even think about answering, another in-human shriek was heard, followed by gunshots.
"I believe they know we're here." Walton commented. Another scream was heard, except this one was a human scream, which sounded gurgled, like the lungs were full of water, or....blood.
"O-oh sh-shit. U-umm, uh, yoh-you take that one, I'll take the other!" Harry stammered and shook, as he ran into one of the tunnels, leaving Walton behind.
"How nice of you." He said, taking the other tunnel.
.
This one ended inside a big room that, luckily, that was lid up with torches on the walls, illuminating what looked like to be some sort of a lab. Or a library.
It had several book-cayses pressed against the walls, all full of books, a desk that had several bottles on it, all containing colerfull fluids in them. In the middle of the room stood a large pot that had something in it that was very smelly.
The place also stank with the smell of an ambush. The room had two other openings, and they were too dark to see if someone or something was there.
Tightening his grip on his heavy hammer, Walton slowly walked towards one of the openings, his eyes scanning the room as he walked, and did not even dare to breathe.
Considering that the room was inside a cave, the floor was surprisingly clean, and so Walton noticed the small rocks when he stepped on them.
Looking down, the small stones looked like they had been smashed into peaces, and since there were so many of them, it looked like they had been.....a part of something larger.
The slightest sound of an intake of a breath reached his ear, and it wasin't Walton's.
.
.
Spinning around while raising my hammer to strike whatever was behind me, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the.....source of the sound.
There, huddled between bookcases, a pair of orange-colored eyes that showed fear, it's wings around it's dark-gray skin as if hoping by doing so it would not being seen, was a....a......
A child.
At least it.....he looked like a child.
I don't why, but.....I just had the impression he was a child, he looked so....small when compared to the statue I had seen when we had entered the cave.
The one....Sarge smashed.....no...killed. He had killed a sentient creature. Had the adult been the little one's father?
"KILL THEM!! KILL THEM AAAAALLL!!!!" The mad voice of the Sarge echoed into the room, followed by smashing sounds, gunfire and more screams, both human and....gargoyle.
They existed, but.....
Even if these 'gargoyles' were as evil as the Quarrymen said they were, the one I was looking at, was just a child.
Just...a child.
Children are....innocent, no matter how hard you try to prove otherwise, no matter how much bullshit you spew trying to prove otherwise, children are innocent. Period.
.
.
Very slowly, Walton lowered his hammer from the striking position it had been in, and slowly raised his hand in front of him, as if hoping the winged being would understand he meant no harm, as he slowly went to his knees, placed his hammer on the floor, and slowly removed his hood, revealing his face.
"Listen, I...." He didn't even know if the little one would understand him, but he had to try. "I mean you no harm but....there are others in here, who are here to hurt." Those orange-colored eyes still showed fear, and the sounds of battle that was happening elsewhere didn't help. "I...I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to see you get hurt, so please, whatever you do, be quite and hide, and wait until someone you know comes. Okay?" Walton tried to sound gentle and truthful, but had no idea how he sounded. Those orange eyes didn't even blink, they were fixed on him.
Slowly gribbing his hammer, Walton stood slowly up, and walked away towards the passage he had entered from.
The young hatchling remained still, as a tall figure emerged from the shadows of one of the passages, the person had just witnessed what had happened.
.
.
When running in the dark tunnels, the sounds of battle had changed.
It now sounded like a slaughter. And by the sound of it, it weren't the humans that were doing the slaughter.
When Walton reached the divided section, he looked around franticly, trying to remember which way was what, when a gurgling voice was heard.
"Cookie....help.." Out of one of the tunnels, a figure crawled out of it.
It was Sarge, half of his face was covered in blood, and his body looked all beaten and broken. Litarelly.
Walton started to move towards Sarge, when a pair of white glowing eyes appeared above Sarge's body, followed by a hissing sound and a snarl.
Startled, Walton nearly fell as he backed away. The creature's head became slightly exposed, revealing deadly sharp fangs. Walton didn't see much more of it, but seeing how high they eyes were, it was at least over seven feet tall.
Then, more eyes appeared out of the caves, and they didn't sound very friendly.
Walton turned and ran.
"YOU SORRY SONOFABITCH HELPME!!!" Walton heard the rage and the fear in Sarge's voice, but he kept running, never looking back.
Then....the sounds of flesh being ripped apart reached his ears.
Walton kept running.
.
They were coming for him. He could hear they're snarls and smell they're hatred for him. He needed to escape from this place.
Taking a turn to the right, Walton finally saw the exit, but that vision became blocked when something huge stepped in front of him.
Something heavy and large hit Walton in the face, and for a moment his vision was filled with bright light, then he was thrown backwards and hit a large, warm wall.
A wall that grabbed his arms at in-human strength and twisted the wrist of the hand that was holding the hammer, and the sounds of bones breaking was heard.
It felt like a fire was burning inside of his broken wrist, but when Walton opened his mouth to scream, something heavy hit him in the stomach, all air left his lungs and his vision blurred for a moment.
When it returned, Walton wished it hadn't.
In front of him stood four of the winged ones, all they're eyes glowed so much he could see how they were build, though they're faces were still hidden in the dark.
Two of them glowed blood-red, and from the way they were build, suggested the red-eyed ones were females.
All of them were over six feet tall, and of different build, some were slim while others were rippling in muscles.
Then one of them spoke.
"Is he the last one?" Walton didn't know which was more of a shock, that they could speak, or they had sounded like humans
"Yes." A different voice, a woman's voice this time, and her tone was not friendly.
"Make him suffer."
The beating started.
.
.
A hard punch in the stomach and I bent over on reflex, but the one holding me pulled my arms up so fast and hard, my arms were almost dislocated. I then felt something wrap around my legs, and it tightened too much for me to even move my legs.
Another punch, except this one went into my left cheek, almost smashing my jaw and loosened some teeth.
One of the females slashed into my chest, her claws penetrated my armor like it was nothing, and I could feel the claws had sliced into my skin, but before I could even open my mouth, the punches and slashes just kept on going, and I lost all count, it all became a blur of pain to me.
I didn't bother to plead or beg. I knew hatred when I saw one. My only hope was it would all end quick.
But just as it had started suddenly, it stopped.
At some point, blood had splattered into my eyes, making it sting and difficult to see, but I heard something. It sounded like heavy footsteps, and they grew closer, until I felt a hot breath hit my face.
Then, an extremely large hand grabbed my neck, and I could feel claws sink into both of my chins as I was slowly raised up. Blinking repeatedly to clear my eyes proved useless, the only thing I could see was a bright light and a hot breath breathing into my face. The hand that was holding me by the throat was wet, and it wasin't sweat. It was blood.
A human blood, and it wasin't mine.
Suddenly, the huge gargoyle moved me so fast I saw only blur, but when it stopped, I felt my back pressed against the large gargoyle.
Then, arms that were at least three times larger then my own, wrapped around me in an almost crushing hug, and I could feel my armor slowly bend at the awesome force.
I heard some words, some sort of a command but I couldn't understand it. But I could see one of the gargoyles move up to me, our eyes were at the same level, as it almost lazily moved one of his clawed finger up to my face.
The sharp claw stopped at the left side of my temple, at the roots of my hair.
Pressure was added, and it penetrated deep into my skin, probably touching the bone. I tried to move my head away, but another hand grabbed my throat and held me steady, as the claw moved slowly down towards my left eye, slicing my skin like it was butter.
I tried so hard not to scream, my teeth were nearly crushed. I could feel hot blood streaming out of the long wound, as the claw stopped just before it would have reached my left eye.
The gargoyle left, and another walked up, and did the same thing. Slowly slicing my skin next to the other wound, down to my left eye, and so did the next one.
The fourth one, however, put her claw dangerously close below my left eye, and moved downwards, and so did the other.
At that point, I felt like my face was on fire, that I could feel it slowly melt, as the burning hot blood slowly, but steadily, came out of the five cuts they had inflicted upon me. The pain from my wounds, not just in my face, but my broken wrist, my slashed chest and beaten body, was so much that I felt like my heart was about to explode inside my chest.
But before that happened, the giant holding me shifted me in his arms, so only his left one was nearly crushing me against his large mass.
Through the pain, my ears detected a sound, and smaller hands grabbed a hold of my head, and forced me to look up to the giant gargoyle.
"You humans have a way to commend your warriors when they have won great battles." His voice was deep, and I could feel my body vibrate.
"Honoring them by giving them symbols, medals and...stars. Well, guess what, human. You have just earned a star." And as simple as that, the huge gargoyle plunged one of his claws deep into my left eye.
.
.
Up to this point, Walton had not given them the pleasure of hearing him scream.
But feeling his own eye explode, it's water mixing into it's blood, the electric feeling of pure pain, feeling the sharp claw sink deeper and deeper into they eyehole was....beyond pain.
Walton felt a volcano inside of him explode, and felt all the suppressed screams and cries fill his lungs, all of them heading towards the exit of his mouth. But before they came, the gargoyle tightened his arm around Walton even more, crushing his armor, cutting off any hope of getting air, and he could feel a rib-bone or two break inside of him.
With a sickening sound, the gargoyle retrieved his finger, the remains of Walton's eyes stuck on it's claw, then released his hold of Walton, whose body fell to the ground, not moving nor showing the slightest sign of life.
"Is he dead?"
Plugging the eye of his claw, he then flips it away as it were just bugger, then looks down at the pathetic broken looking human.
"No. He's only passed out because of lack of oxygen." Then the huge gargoyle raises his large foot, and without hesitation, slams it into Walton's right knee-cab, and the cave is momanterely filled with sickening sounds of crushing bones and ripping skin.
"But I intend to make him wish he were dead."
To be Continued.....
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I will try to write more, but I can't promise anything. I will attempt to tell you just how Walton will survive, what will happen to him, if he was sentenced to prison guilty or innocent, and the horrible thing that happened to him there.
I will try. That's the best I can do, for now.
I work in a video store, and sometimes it can be boring, so one day I just decided to give it a try and write a story. This is what came out of it.
I would like to point out that I cannot be sure if or when I'll post another chapter. I guess it'll mostly depend on wether if people will like it or hate it. Feel free to tell me of your opinions.
On that note, I think I'll also post this on fanfiction.net that way you can also tell your thoughts and opinions.
As for WHEN this happens, I am still trying to learn the timeline of the Gargoyles, but I can tell you that it does not happen during or after Gargoyles Saga. I did consider making it happen after GS, but there were just too many holes and factors to consider.
I've noticed many people choose they're stories after shows like the Hunter's Moon, but since that show was one of far too many that I missed, well......I'll think of something.
Well then, enough of chat, let's see if you'll like what I've written here.
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Somewhere in Scotland, 3:10 PM.
The atmosphere inside the small bus was mixed. Some were chatting to each other, others had headphones on and seemed to be enjoying Scotland's nature, while the rest had serious and somewhat grim expressions on they're faces.
All of them were dressed like tourists wanting to go mountain-climbing, but their faces made it plain obvious they weren't.
Then, the driver spoke.
"Alright people, we're reaching the base. Pack your things together."
.
The 'base' was far away from any settlement, and looked like a big summer house on a big hill. It looked like it was made out of strong wood, had two floors and the area around it made it look like it had been cut out of a 'Perfect Houses' magazine. A green Hummer was parked outside.
As the people got out of the bus and started taking their luggage from it, 3 people came out of the house. They too were dressed like tourists but walked like military men as they approached the people, who were facing them in a single line.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome." The man had no accent. He was an American in his late 30's. Tall, looked to be well muscled under his green sweater and was handsome. And though his voice was warm and welcoming, his eyes were stone-cold, ready to commit terrible things and not be bothered with it at all.
"I'm sure you must be all tired from the long trip, so take your time to relax and settle in. We can get to know each other later on, and since we now have someone who knows how to cook, maybe we'll have a decent dinner for a change."
The joke earned a bit of a chuckle, nothing more.
As the people walked to the house, one of the women from the bus walked next to the youngest man of the group, who had spent the entire time in the bus alone, and had never spoken a word to anyone.
He was about average height, brown hair, light-skinned, almost pale, and medium built. Of course, he didn't look like he was heavily muscled like most people in the group, but he did look like he worked out now and then. He seemed to be somewhere between 20-22 years old. He wasn't the ugly looking type, but he neither was Leonardo De Caprio or Brad Pitt.
He had no expression on his face, and the area around his mouth suggested he rarely smiled.
He also wore a pair of dark sunglasses, hiding his eyes.
"Hi, my name's Janice, what's yours?"
"Walton."
"Scotland sure looks beautiful at this time of year, don't you think?" The woman asked cheerfully and flashed a big happy smile, obviously expecting a long conversation.
"Mm-hm." Was the only reaction she got. He hadn't even bothered to look at her, and her big smile wavered a bit, but she refused to give up.
"So, what did you think about being one of the selected? I mean, wow, to be trusted in handling such a serious matter! You sure must have some great skills!" Again with the cheerful voice, and a subtle hint at the word 'skills'.
"I only got selected because I can cook." If his voice had been anymore colder, steam would have come out of his mouth.
Hearing his voice made the woman stop dead in her tracks, while the young man and the rest of the group went inside.
The driver, who had stayed behind to park the bus, had seen her talking to him, so he walked up to her with a dark look on his face, placed a hand on her shoulder and almost roughly spun her around to face him.
"Stay away from him, Janice. The guy's trouble, nothing more."
The slightly startled look on her face was replaced by anger.
"Hey fuck you, Harry! In case your tiny brain forgot, YOU broke up with ME, and if you think you can just-" Her ranting was stopped by an equally angered Harry.
"HEY! I hadn't forgot! I just don't want you to try and have something with THAT guy! Don't get fooled by his 'oooh, I'm soooo quiet and mysterious, try and get to know me!' looks, you're not the first to fall for it and try starting a conversation with him. He has NEVER shown the slightest interest to anyone, and all the women stopped trying with him after they were told a bit about his past."
During they're time together as a couple, Janice had learned how to tell if Harry was lying, and to her slight surprise, she saw he wasn't, and the curiosity got the better of her.
"What do you mean, about his past?" Harry looked quickly towards the house to ensure no-one was listening, then back to Janice.
"He's an ex-con, Janice, and he didn't serve out his sentence or is on probation. He only got out because of some technicality, that his lawyer used to get him released."
Surprise filled her face, as Janice looked towards the house, as if expecting to see the man standing there. Seeing that he wasn't, she turned back to Harry.
"What was he in for?"
With a grim expression, Harry leaned his head to Janice's ear, and whispered something.
Janice gasped, her eyes became wide and all color was drained from her face.
.
. I got a room all for myself. Lucky me.
It had a single bed, a drawer, a closet, a desk and a chair with it and a mirror on the wall. Another door led to the bathroom. A nice big window showed the green forest and the mountains, which was probably where everybody would be going soon.
I had just dropped my bag on the bed when the doors opened, revealing one of the 3 men that were here before us. He, too, was all muscles.
"Hey, you're the cook, right? Sarge wants you in the kitchen now. We've had nothing to eat but beans, and there's a chance we might go out tonight, so we need all the strength we can get. Dinner is to be ready within an hour, so get to it." When finished speaking, the guy left as quickly as he came. Judging by the sound of his voice, he was here because of his muscles, and not his I.Q.
Taking my time to get out of the coat I was issued, I then opened my bag and took out my cooking tools. I was told this place would have all the food materials and the tools, but better safe then sorry, right?
.
.
As Walton was about to leave the room, he removed his sunglasses and looked at his reflection.
His eyes were light-gray, and held nothing at all. No warmth, no coldness......nothing. Just emptiness. He also looked like he slept little, yet did not appear to be affected by lack of sleep.
Looking into his own eyes for just a second, he placed his sunglasses back on and left the room.
.
.
4:00 PM.
"A bit early for dinner, don't you think?" All the people were gathered around a large table. 8 men and 2 women. The cook was still in the kitchen, making him the 11th.
On the wall above a fireplace hung a large flag that almost covered the entire wall.
A blue colored flag, whose golden markings were a big Q with a hammer in it.
The Quarrymen's insignia.
The man, who at the moment was only known as 'Sarge,' simply shifted his head towards the kitchen door, obviously not going to say anything until they were all present. Sitting on his left and right were the other two men.
They didn't have to wait long, as the kitchen door opened, and Walton, still wearing his sunglasses and an apron saying 'Kill The Chef', emerged holding a big tray, followed by a delicious smell.
"Mmmm, that smells good. What is it?" the Sarge smiled, but his smile did not reach his cold eyes.
"Omelet." Walton said as he placed the tray on the table, then made his way back to the kitchen, and soon came back with another omelet tray, and after placing that one on the table, he took a seat.
Janice looked at him, but quickly looked the other way, trying her best to ignore him.
One of the people started reaching for a tray, but was stopped by Sarge.
"I know some introductions are in order, along with answers to questions I'm sure you all have. I assure you, all questions will be answered after we're finished eating. However, I think we should pray before eating, so we can receive our Lord's blessing over what we are here to do." No-one voiced an objection, and everybody placed they're hands together to pray.
All except for the cook.
And soon enough, all eyes were on him, as if he was expected to follow they're example.
"I'm not the religious type." He stated.
"No surprise there." Harry mumbled, though loud enough for everyone to hear. Sarge did not seem to notice, too busy looking at Walton, attempting to look at him straight into his eyes, which proved difficult, for not only because of his sunglasses, but also his head wasn't even looking in his direction.
"And just why have you no faith, if I may ask?" He may have sounded not really interested, but to a trained ear, you could detect the dangerous edge in his voice, and told the person in question that if valued his health, he'd better answer quickly.
"I believe what I see with my own eyes." He didn't even move his head to Sarge as he answered, which seemed to only aggravate him even more.
"The Lord does not show himself just to convince his existence to us. His creation of us is more then enough to make us love him."
"Perhaps." Walton finally turned his head to Sarge. "But if we all die today, then I guess we'll find out if Hell truly exists."
The sounds of Sarge grinding his teeth could almost be heard, as he was obviously fighting the urge to bodily harm the insubordination of his team. Even kill him, maybe.
"Let us pray." Sarge then said in a surprisingly calm voice. The others, who had only sat and watch the two man exchange words, immediately did as they were told.
"Dear Lord, bless this food, for your loyal soldiers will soon engage Satan's spawns. And I ask of thee, to bless us as we head to battle, that we'll earn our rightful victory, and thus prevent these hells-pawns from claiming any more innocent lives then they already have. Blessed we are. Amen. Let's eat."
.
.
Charles "Sarge" Jacobson, age 38, former sergeant of U.S. Marines. Made an early retirement after losing his patience over his government for their lack of actions against the so-called 'gargoyles' in Manhattan.
After going to some Quarrymen meetings, he managed to encourage some of his friends to do the same, and that by doing so, leaving the Marines to join the Quarrymen, the Q-balls would take care of them, offer them a roof over they're heads and some money for hunting and killing the 'flying beasts'.
Which was NOT the reason they left the army, to become some sort of mercenary, but to do the 'right thing' for humanity. His words.
Ask me, I think it's plain obvious he left the army out of lack of stripes on his shoulders. I mean, 38 years old and was still a sergeant? Please.
After dinner and some introductions, the reason why we were all here, was finally brought into light.
.
.
4;20 PM.
"Ladies and gentlemen, about two months ago, Mr. Castaway realized of the possibility that New York may not be the only area that is infected with these things, and so send agents to numerous places around the globe. Me and some of my boys got sent here to Scotland. I confess that at first, we didn't hold much of a hope to find anything, until just out of sheer luck, Rico here was coming from the nearest town here with supplies, when he noticed these things flying in the night sky. And not only are these things here in Scotland, but they're nest just happens to be that mountain right over there." Sarge then pointed at the huge mountain that could be seen out of the big window in the living room, where everybody had gathered.
The mountain was some distance away. It would take about an hour to drive there, though it could take days just trying to find something there.
"Now, I know what I'm about to say is not what the guys back in New York had planned, but we are going to hit the place RIGHT NOW." The statement had the expecting results.
Worried looks were exchanged, some showed their startlement, while others voiced they're objections. The only ones that were calm, were Charles, his two lap-dogs and Walton, who didn't even look like he had heard a word.
The great and noble Sarge spoke, silencing everyone.
"Just before your arrival here, I received a message from New York. The rest of the team will not arrive, due to engine failure on their plane. However, the reason why we will not simply wait for them, is because there is a high chance the demons are aware of our knowledge of them. You see, Rico did not only spot them, he also tracked them to their lair. However, when he was leaving, they became aware of him and he barely escaped unharmed." Sarge looked to the man on his left, obviously not pleased with his 'friend's' performance. Rico did nothing, just sat there with his jaw clenched, staring straight forward.
"And just what will you attack them with? Harsh language?" All eyes were drawn to the source. Standing next to an open window, was Walton, smoking a cigarette, not even looking like he was paying any attention to the 'meeting.'
"You were all instructed to bring hammers with you, but we also have some.....extra weapons, in case there might more then we anticipate. Myself, Rico and David are trained in firearms, and I understand some of you are in the police force, so weapons will be given to those who are trained. We don't want any accidents, people."
"And just how many do you 'anticipate', SARGE? 10? 20? And better yet, the sun will set in less then two hours, so it is my opinion that we'll wait until tomorrow morning and-"
"YOU ARE NOT IN CHARGE HERE, YOU MAGGOT! I AM! AND I SAY WE ATTACK NOW! AND THAT INCLUDES YOU COOKIE!!" Walton hadn't even reacted to Sarge's outburst, but at the last statement, it got a reaction in him.
"Me? I'm a cook, not a fighter!" For a moment, Walton looked like he had lost his 'cool', wich brought a smirk on Sarge's lips.
"I don't care if you are the fuckin' gardener, you are still a part of this team, and I am ordering you to arm yourself and come with us as we attack."
Walton didn't move or say anything for a whole minute, then finally looked out the window.
"Whatever you say, fearless leader."
.
.
How the HELL did I get picked for this 'mission'? I made it clear to everyone back in New York that I'm just a cook, not some hammer-wielding weirdo, with a thing to smash statues, and too much of a chicken-shit to show my own face. Heck, I don't even believe these so-called gargoyles even exist! And yet, here I am in a room full of what look like God-fearing people, lead by someone who still hasint realised what kind of an asshole he is.
I have a feeling I'll be spending a loooooong time in those damn mountains, just to discover that those 'flying beasts' were probably nothing but some large hawks, or something.
.
.
5:15PM.
The sun would be gone in about 20 minutes, maybe less, and the 'attack force' hadn't still reached the place where 'they' were supposed to be.
Everyone wore they're Quarrymen armors, 5 of them were wielding hammers, the rest were armed with assault weapons.
How they had managed to bring them into Scotland, Walton didn't know, nor did he want to.
He was too busy trying to climb the mountain without falling down. And he wasin't the only one having problems. Well, it wasin't like they were climbing mount Everest, but it was difficult to slowly climb up while wearing a heavy armor AND holding a large hammer, which didn't exactly made them easy to climb, and so it was a wonder no-one had any accidents.
But suddenly, Rico moved to one of many large bushes in the big rocks, and pulled some of it away, revealing a dark tunnel. You could practicly taste the surprise in everyone. Even Walton felt slightly surprised.
No words were spoken. They were not needed. Everybody silendly moved inside, and for the first time in a long time, Walton felt startled.
Just inside the opening of the cave, was a statue of a....something. It's legs were bend and hunched, making it looked like it was ready to pounce on anyone daring to enter the cave. The architecture was....amazingly accurate. The muscles in it, the hair, the tail, the wings on it's back, the exposed fangs and the leather armor it was wearing, looked almost amazingly real. In the dark, it could have easily been mistaken as the real thing.
"Now do you see what kind of horrible beasts these things are?" Even Sarge sounded slightly stunned, as he almost whispered. "These things are truly demonic, as they cannot withstand sunlight, and thus during the day are nothing but stones. A true sign that tells us how twisted they are, when they cannot even stand our Lord's blessed sunlight. Let the nightmare end."
Not saying anything, Sarge grabed the closest hammer, walked calmly towards the statue and the sound of the hammer charging itself could be heard, as the Sarge raised it, and without the slightest hesitation, brought it down.
When the hammer made impact, a bright flash came just before the statue exploded, smoke surrounded Sarge's figure, as pieces of the statue were thrown everywhere. When the dust settled, Sarge's calm voice was heard.
"Attack, my brothers and sisters. For the sun is almost down, and as that will happen, the demons will awaken. Let us strike as they slumber." He was so calm, so sure of himself, so...full of conviction that this was right, that HE was right and the world was wrong.
The rest silendly followed him deeper into the caves.
.
"Shit."
They had reached the end of the tunnel, only to discover that it split into several passages.
"Alright people, looks like we need to split up. Rico and Janice, take that tunnel. David, you're with me. Harry, you-" Sarge's voice was drowned at the inhuman screams that filled the cave. But it vanished as quickly as it came.
"They...they're awake.." Someone whimpered.
"We all knew it might come to this. Just remember the reason why we're all here, and keep our Lord's blessing to our hearts, and we shall emerge as victors."
The group was splitted into groups, and Walton got Harry and were send to the tunnel for to the right.
.
"Uh-oh, now what?" Before Walton and Harry, were two other tunnel openings.
Before Walton could even think about answering, another in-human shriek was heard, followed by gunshots.
"I believe they know we're here." Walton commented. Another scream was heard, except this one was a human scream, which sounded gurgled, like the lungs were full of water, or....blood.
"O-oh sh-shit. U-umm, uh, yoh-you take that one, I'll take the other!" Harry stammered and shook, as he ran into one of the tunnels, leaving Walton behind.
"How nice of you." He said, taking the other tunnel.
.
This one ended inside a big room that, luckily, that was lid up with torches on the walls, illuminating what looked like to be some sort of a lab. Or a library.
It had several book-cayses pressed against the walls, all full of books, a desk that had several bottles on it, all containing colerfull fluids in them. In the middle of the room stood a large pot that had something in it that was very smelly.
The place also stank with the smell of an ambush. The room had two other openings, and they were too dark to see if someone or something was there.
Tightening his grip on his heavy hammer, Walton slowly walked towards one of the openings, his eyes scanning the room as he walked, and did not even dare to breathe.
Considering that the room was inside a cave, the floor was surprisingly clean, and so Walton noticed the small rocks when he stepped on them.
Looking down, the small stones looked like they had been smashed into peaces, and since there were so many of them, it looked like they had been.....a part of something larger.
The slightest sound of an intake of a breath reached his ear, and it wasin't Walton's.
.
.
Spinning around while raising my hammer to strike whatever was behind me, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the.....source of the sound.
There, huddled between bookcases, a pair of orange-colored eyes that showed fear, it's wings around it's dark-gray skin as if hoping by doing so it would not being seen, was a....a......
A child.
At least it.....he looked like a child.
I don't why, but.....I just had the impression he was a child, he looked so....small when compared to the statue I had seen when we had entered the cave.
The one....Sarge smashed.....no...killed. He had killed a sentient creature. Had the adult been the little one's father?
"KILL THEM!! KILL THEM AAAAALLL!!!!" The mad voice of the Sarge echoed into the room, followed by smashing sounds, gunfire and more screams, both human and....gargoyle.
They existed, but.....
Even if these 'gargoyles' were as evil as the Quarrymen said they were, the one I was looking at, was just a child.
Just...a child.
Children are....innocent, no matter how hard you try to prove otherwise, no matter how much bullshit you spew trying to prove otherwise, children are innocent. Period.
.
.
Very slowly, Walton lowered his hammer from the striking position it had been in, and slowly raised his hand in front of him, as if hoping the winged being would understand he meant no harm, as he slowly went to his knees, placed his hammer on the floor, and slowly removed his hood, revealing his face.
"Listen, I...." He didn't even know if the little one would understand him, but he had to try. "I mean you no harm but....there are others in here, who are here to hurt." Those orange-colored eyes still showed fear, and the sounds of battle that was happening elsewhere didn't help. "I...I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to see you get hurt, so please, whatever you do, be quite and hide, and wait until someone you know comes. Okay?" Walton tried to sound gentle and truthful, but had no idea how he sounded. Those orange eyes didn't even blink, they were fixed on him.
Slowly gribbing his hammer, Walton stood slowly up, and walked away towards the passage he had entered from.
The young hatchling remained still, as a tall figure emerged from the shadows of one of the passages, the person had just witnessed what had happened.
.
.
When running in the dark tunnels, the sounds of battle had changed.
It now sounded like a slaughter. And by the sound of it, it weren't the humans that were doing the slaughter.
When Walton reached the divided section, he looked around franticly, trying to remember which way was what, when a gurgling voice was heard.
"Cookie....help.." Out of one of the tunnels, a figure crawled out of it.
It was Sarge, half of his face was covered in blood, and his body looked all beaten and broken. Litarelly.
Walton started to move towards Sarge, when a pair of white glowing eyes appeared above Sarge's body, followed by a hissing sound and a snarl.
Startled, Walton nearly fell as he backed away. The creature's head became slightly exposed, revealing deadly sharp fangs. Walton didn't see much more of it, but seeing how high they eyes were, it was at least over seven feet tall.
Then, more eyes appeared out of the caves, and they didn't sound very friendly.
Walton turned and ran.
"YOU SORRY SONOFABITCH HELPME!!!" Walton heard the rage and the fear in Sarge's voice, but he kept running, never looking back.
Then....the sounds of flesh being ripped apart reached his ears.
Walton kept running.
.
They were coming for him. He could hear they're snarls and smell they're hatred for him. He needed to escape from this place.
Taking a turn to the right, Walton finally saw the exit, but that vision became blocked when something huge stepped in front of him.
Something heavy and large hit Walton in the face, and for a moment his vision was filled with bright light, then he was thrown backwards and hit a large, warm wall.
A wall that grabbed his arms at in-human strength and twisted the wrist of the hand that was holding the hammer, and the sounds of bones breaking was heard.
It felt like a fire was burning inside of his broken wrist, but when Walton opened his mouth to scream, something heavy hit him in the stomach, all air left his lungs and his vision blurred for a moment.
When it returned, Walton wished it hadn't.
In front of him stood four of the winged ones, all they're eyes glowed so much he could see how they were build, though they're faces were still hidden in the dark.
Two of them glowed blood-red, and from the way they were build, suggested the red-eyed ones were females.
All of them were over six feet tall, and of different build, some were slim while others were rippling in muscles.
Then one of them spoke.
"Is he the last one?" Walton didn't know which was more of a shock, that they could speak, or they had sounded like humans
"Yes." A different voice, a woman's voice this time, and her tone was not friendly.
"Make him suffer."
The beating started.
.
.
A hard punch in the stomach and I bent over on reflex, but the one holding me pulled my arms up so fast and hard, my arms were almost dislocated. I then felt something wrap around my legs, and it tightened too much for me to even move my legs.
Another punch, except this one went into my left cheek, almost smashing my jaw and loosened some teeth.
One of the females slashed into my chest, her claws penetrated my armor like it was nothing, and I could feel the claws had sliced into my skin, but before I could even open my mouth, the punches and slashes just kept on going, and I lost all count, it all became a blur of pain to me.
I didn't bother to plead or beg. I knew hatred when I saw one. My only hope was it would all end quick.
But just as it had started suddenly, it stopped.
At some point, blood had splattered into my eyes, making it sting and difficult to see, but I heard something. It sounded like heavy footsteps, and they grew closer, until I felt a hot breath hit my face.
Then, an extremely large hand grabbed my neck, and I could feel claws sink into both of my chins as I was slowly raised up. Blinking repeatedly to clear my eyes proved useless, the only thing I could see was a bright light and a hot breath breathing into my face. The hand that was holding me by the throat was wet, and it wasin't sweat. It was blood.
A human blood, and it wasin't mine.
Suddenly, the huge gargoyle moved me so fast I saw only blur, but when it stopped, I felt my back pressed against the large gargoyle.
Then, arms that were at least three times larger then my own, wrapped around me in an almost crushing hug, and I could feel my armor slowly bend at the awesome force.
I heard some words, some sort of a command but I couldn't understand it. But I could see one of the gargoyles move up to me, our eyes were at the same level, as it almost lazily moved one of his clawed finger up to my face.
The sharp claw stopped at the left side of my temple, at the roots of my hair.
Pressure was added, and it penetrated deep into my skin, probably touching the bone. I tried to move my head away, but another hand grabbed my throat and held me steady, as the claw moved slowly down towards my left eye, slicing my skin like it was butter.
I tried so hard not to scream, my teeth were nearly crushed. I could feel hot blood streaming out of the long wound, as the claw stopped just before it would have reached my left eye.
The gargoyle left, and another walked up, and did the same thing. Slowly slicing my skin next to the other wound, down to my left eye, and so did the next one.
The fourth one, however, put her claw dangerously close below my left eye, and moved downwards, and so did the other.
At that point, I felt like my face was on fire, that I could feel it slowly melt, as the burning hot blood slowly, but steadily, came out of the five cuts they had inflicted upon me. The pain from my wounds, not just in my face, but my broken wrist, my slashed chest and beaten body, was so much that I felt like my heart was about to explode inside my chest.
But before that happened, the giant holding me shifted me in his arms, so only his left one was nearly crushing me against his large mass.
Through the pain, my ears detected a sound, and smaller hands grabbed a hold of my head, and forced me to look up to the giant gargoyle.
"You humans have a way to commend your warriors when they have won great battles." His voice was deep, and I could feel my body vibrate.
"Honoring them by giving them symbols, medals and...stars. Well, guess what, human. You have just earned a star." And as simple as that, the huge gargoyle plunged one of his claws deep into my left eye.
.
.
Up to this point, Walton had not given them the pleasure of hearing him scream.
But feeling his own eye explode, it's water mixing into it's blood, the electric feeling of pure pain, feeling the sharp claw sink deeper and deeper into they eyehole was....beyond pain.
Walton felt a volcano inside of him explode, and felt all the suppressed screams and cries fill his lungs, all of them heading towards the exit of his mouth. But before they came, the gargoyle tightened his arm around Walton even more, crushing his armor, cutting off any hope of getting air, and he could feel a rib-bone or two break inside of him.
With a sickening sound, the gargoyle retrieved his finger, the remains of Walton's eyes stuck on it's claw, then released his hold of Walton, whose body fell to the ground, not moving nor showing the slightest sign of life.
"Is he dead?"
Plugging the eye of his claw, he then flips it away as it were just bugger, then looks down at the pathetic broken looking human.
"No. He's only passed out because of lack of oxygen." Then the huge gargoyle raises his large foot, and without hesitation, slams it into Walton's right knee-cab, and the cave is momanterely filled with sickening sounds of crushing bones and ripping skin.
"But I intend to make him wish he were dead."
To be Continued.....
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.
I will try to write more, but I can't promise anything. I will attempt to tell you just how Walton will survive, what will happen to him, if he was sentenced to prison guilty or innocent, and the horrible thing that happened to him there.
I will try. That's the best I can do, for now.