Auton sat in a corner, his arms folded over his chest, head back in the corner and trying to get some shut-eye. He had been locked in the empty cabin after the council, both human and gargoyle, had passed their judgement and passed on the "punishment".

He scoffed. As if being sent away from here was a hardship for him. He'd had no intention of coming back here, but with the Red Rock clan of gargoyles coming out into the open, it hadn't taken long for people to put two and two together. Everyone knew that he was from this area, he'd made no secret of it, after all.

When he'd been approached by a representative of a research company, requesting blood samples from a gargoyle, he had agreed… for a price.

After a few days of hard negotiation, a price had been reached that almost had him folding in half to keep from passing out. He had been on a plane back to Australia just shy of twenty four hours later.

It had been sheer luck, and perhaps a bit of fate if one believed in such things, that had him crossing paths with the one that the clan had begun speaking of. The Promised One.

Oh, he kept up, thanks to his sister and her rambling letters. She loved it here, had been brainwashed into thinking that there was no better place for her to be.

Of course, she'd never been anywhere else, he thought bitterly. She was so indoctrinated into this place, that he hadn't been able to pry her out when he had left, or any of the years in between then and now.

He had wanted that money to get her out, he thought now. And thinking it, he believed it wholeheartedly.

He would use that money, buy her a house anywhere in the world, and get her out. The world was not kind to the Aboriginals. Hell, look at what had happened, and was still happening, to the native population in America.

His parents could stay, he decided. There was no hope for them by now, but his sister was still young enough to make a life somewhere else.

There was the snick of a lock, one of the few that existed in this god-forsaken place, and the door opened.

Auton blinked his eyes open, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the shaft of light that felt like a hot poker to his eyeballs. That was when he realized that the light was reflecting off of Dingo's special silver armor. He had seen the armor a lot in Dingo's early days there. It was why he'd been brought in and accepted so easily.

The tribe, the fools, had called him The Namarrkon. They had actually believed him to be the mythical Lightning Man, the one who had been able to make lightning and create roars of thunder in storms.

He had seen through that. The "thunder" had been the noise his rocket boots made when he chose to use them, and the "lightning" had been some kind of electrical pulse he was able to generate.

He rarely wore that armor anymore, and when he did it was because he was needed in other areas of Australia to aid law enforcement or other Aboriginal groups.

Being that he was wearing the armor now, and the sheer amount of light Auton could see around his massive frame, he knew that morning had come.

"Auton," Dingo said from the doorway. "It is time to go."

He got to his feet, making a show of dusting off his pants from the dirt and sand that had accumulated in the unused cabin.

"Well then," he said, a sarcastic smile on his face. "Let's get this show over with, shall we?"

Dingo remained expressionless as he fully opened the door and moved out of the way.

Auton walked out into the light and stretched widely with a loud groan.

He looked around and realized that the village was awake and already working hard. Women were gathering water for washing and cooking, the cook fires already sending up the smell of wood smoke and the scents of the fried oatcakes he had grown up with.

The men were working hard as well, most had tools in their hands as they went about the day of checking the buildings for repairs needed after the storm the day before or heading into town for day labor.

Those too old to work were gathered near the cook fires, offering what little aid they could where they could.

As Auton stepped off of the porch, there was a flurry of activity as a pair of women hurried to gather the children and hustle them into the small one room "schoolhouse".

He frowned at that. They would not have their lessons until mid afternoon…

Then it occurred to him as he scanned the area and really looked.

No one was looking at him. No one made eye contact, called a greeting, or even looked in his general direction.

"What's going on?" he demanded, rounding on Dingo.

Dingo looked at him and sighed. "What did you expect? You have been banished from the tribe. In their eyes," he said, swinging his arm wide to encompass the whole encampment, "You no longer exist. I was asked to escort you to the border and make sure that you get on your way, and now it's time to leave."

"Wait," he said, the full gravity of his situation hitting him. Leaving, that was fine, but his sister… "I need to talk to Jannali," he demanded, and attempted to get past Dingo to go to his… her… cabin.

Dingo grasped his arm firmly. "I don't think you heard me," he said with deceptive calm. "It is time for you to leave."

"Not without talking to my sister," he snarled.

"Not going to happen," Dingo said, shaking his head. "I have my orders, and you've got a long walk until you get to town."

"Jannali," Auton called, trying to shake loose Dingo's grip.

"Do you need help?" Matrix asked in Dingo's ears through the helmet.

"Yeah," Dingo heaved a sigh. "I guess we're going to be doing this the hard way."

"What…"

Dingo grasped Auton's upper arms in his hands and with the aid of Matrix's armor, he simply lifted the man off his feet. With Auton kicking and screaming, as well as a few rounds of creative swearing, Dingo walked to the edge of the tribal lands.

Unceremoniously, Dingo dropped Auton to the ground.

Auton stumbled briefly, but managed to stay on his feet. He stood upright and glared at Dingo. How dare this outsider…

A movement caught his attention, and he spotted Jannali running so quickly that her hair streamed out behind her.

"Jannali," he called out, holding his hand out to her. "Come on. You can come with me."

Jannali slowed and eventually stopped in front of him. She said nothing, but looked at him with such sadness that he felt his own chest begin to hurt. "Jannali," he said, pleadingly.

She shoved a bag into his arms, then turned and hurried off back to the camp.

He looked down to find the small duffel that he had brought with him. Opening the flap, on top, was his white lab coat and his ID for the Doctors Without Borders organization. Below that was a pair of warm bottles of water and a few days worth of clothing.

"That's already more than I would have given you," Dingo said harshly. "Go now, and don't embarrass you or your family any more."

Auton snarled at the man. "Who are you to give orders? You're an outsider, and always have been. Why are you still here?"

Dingo gave him a disgusted look. "I came to speak with the gargoyles when I had learned they were here. I stayed," he said harshly, "because I was asked to. Now go," he said, giving the man a firm shove backward. "You aren't welcome here anymore."

Auton turned and began his journey.

One that would not allow him back into the world which he had been born into.

"Are you sure that this will be enough?" Matrix asked Dingo.

"I hope so," Dingo said.

"Should we not alert the authorities?" Matrix asked.

Dingo shook his head. "The tribe takes care of Tribal business. He was tried and sentenced, and that sentence," Dingo said, watching the man walk away, "Is one that even I would not want to experience."

Auton swung his duffle onto his shoulder and stormed off without a backwards glance. Once he was sure he was far enough away to not be seen, he reached into his pants pocket and felt the cylinder there.

He heaved a breath, and drew it out to inspect.

He had been worried when Dingo had manhandled him, that it would break.

It wasn't as full as the other one, he mused, lifting it to watch the thick red blood inside, but it would hopefully be enough. He'd gotten greedy, he admitted now. He'd gotten the first vial full, and had gone for a second, hoping to be able to divvy it all up to multiple buyers.

More buyers meant more money, after all.

The full vial had broken, but he still had this one. Only about a third full, but maybe he could up the price because of it.

After all, he thought harshly, It was a sample from a human and gargoyle hybrid. How often would that happen?

Gently, he slipped it back into his pocket.