5.2: Still Dangerous

On the docks on the eastern side of Manhattan, a group of eight men wearing dark blue uniforms and hoods were rappelling onto the roof of a warehouse. They reached the top and looked around while unslinging large blue sledgehammers strapped to their backs, but didn't find what they were looking for. One of the Quarrymen asked another, "Are you sure this is the roof you spotted them launching from?"

"Positive, sir!" the other replied with a salute.

"Well, there're no signs of gravel and stone shards to indicate they spend their days here," said the Quarryman lieutenant, identifiable not only by the extra emblems embroidered onto his uniform, but by the sidearm strapped to his belt, a Glock 9mm automatic. Recognizing that some of his Quarrymen were not particularly stable people, Castaway had decreed that only his lieutenants would be armed with other weapons besides net-mortars and Quarryhammers.

"But sir, look at this!" another man said excitedly, as he pointed down one side of a warehouse wall. "This section of wall is riddled with pockmarks from their claws!"

Everyone crowded around to look, one of them almost toppling off in his eagerness to see but restrained by two of his fellows. "Definitely claw-marks! And far too many to be from just one launching, even for two or more of them." The lieutenant turned to the spotter once more and said, "Describe them for me again, each one."

"All I could really see were their silhouettes against the moon, sir," the Quarryman reminded him. "But one was definitely female, and she was with two males, one with the standard wings and a large beak, and one with those 'kite-man' wings. And they were followed by another male, carrying somebody in his arms. I couldn't see his silhouette as clearly because of his passenger, but he was too big to be anything but their leader!"

"Their leader, and that traitorous bitch who foiled our first attack on him!" the Quarryman lieutenant growled. He'd been a member of the party that had found that big purple bastard sleeping in stone on a balcony, and been prevented from destroying him by a woman dressed for seduction. It hadn't been too hard to figure out why, even if everyone had agreed that it made their stomachs turn to even think about it. Now, he was looking forward to teaching that cunt a lesson, about screwing with monsters instead of her own kind. He'd enjoy teaching her, forcing the lesson down her throat… Yeah, he'd enjoy that a lot…

He tried to suppress the tent that was starting to form on his trousers as he said aloud, "That's over half of the known flock in this city! If we can nail them all, we'll not only avenge our fallen brothers, but we'll strike a telling blow for our kind and be that much closer to making our streets safe again!" His crew spontaneously cheered his rousing speech, but he waved that aside and said, "Everyone get down to that alley on the double; if they're using this roof as a frequent launching point, their lair must be nearby! We'll set up an ambush for when they return from their nightly reign of terror, and show them that we, all of humanity, aren't going to take it anymore!" Another rousing cheer went up as they scrambled for their rappelling ropes again.

Once they were down in the alley, he directed them to unload their net-cannons and other equipment from the two vans they'd arrived in, congratulating himself on managing to load up on extra of these expensive new weapons when other squads were only issued two each. Then he directed that the vans be driven a few blocks away, so they wouldn't be seen by the gargoyles as they returned and forewarned that the Quarrymen were waiting for them. The drivers came jogging back as the rest of the squad was finding concealing cover among the dumpsters, old oil drums and suchlike that lined the alley walls.

To be continued…