Our membership decreased by a lot after that incident with George's little bro. So many Quarrymen, including most of those who went gargoyle hunting, hung up their hammers and hoods. At least Rich was okay. George visited him at Manhattan General after that rally, and I picked him up from the hospital. Mr. Castaway said he would personally pay for Rich's hospital bills.

One day, I went for happy hour at this bar on Seville street. I was sittin' at the bar next to my homie Wheezy.

"So you really givin' up the Quarrymen?" I asked as I have having a bottle of beer.

"Yeah," he answered, sipping his own beer. "Somethin' unhinged about that Castaway dude. Following someone reckless like that would only end up gettin' wrecked."

"Yeah, but those monsters are still out there."

"Okay, look. I'm not going' to have any gargoyles hangin' out at my crib, and they're not sittin' next to us here for some beers. But if those busters leave us alone, we can leave them alone."

I took another sip. "Someone has to stand up against those busters."

He looked at me. "Take care."

We talked about other things.

oooooooooo

Anyway, the Quarrymen hatched this plan to take down these busters. And it worked.

We lured them to this construction site, and we blew them up. It got even better. The po-po managed to catch one of the gargoyles who just missed the demolition of the construction site.

And that gargoyle was the same bitch who appeared in that Quarryman rally, the one whom George's little bro said saved his life!

We had this meeting at the brownstone.

We had a mole in the DA's office. This gargoyle would be transported by train at night from Penn Station to Albany where she'd face federal charges for terrorism.

"I don't know about the rest of you," he said. "But I'm ready to smash some stone!"

"Smash some stone! Smash some stone!" we chanted.

And so we got prepared. The plan was simple. We would use helicopters and jetpacks to attack the train and take out that buster!

And yet, I knew there would be NYPD and New York State Police and U.S. Marshals and FBI on that train. The Seville Street Granitors wouldn't be so brazen as to attack a train transporting an Ice Boy or a snitch.

"This is a risk worth taking," George reassured me as he put on his hood. He was still mad about his little bro turning against us.

Out of respect, I'd let George decide what to do about Rich. I'd kill him otherwise.

And so we all boarded this helicopter to intercept the train as it moved north. I looked out and saw the lights of New York City disappear.

This was the first time I would use a jetpack in actual operations.

Many minutes later, we were in reach of the train. I jumped off and activated my jetpack. Remembering my practice sessions, I reached the train, landing on the roof of one of the cars.

George led the way. None of the passengers on this night train wanted to tangle with hooded people bearing heavy hammers. We were about to get our quarry.

But then more gargoyles arrived, and we fought them. I recognized that greenish blue buster Broadway. I got into it with him.

He suddenly knocked me loose.

And then the train came to a stop.

I knew I had to shake the spot.

I don't know how I did it, but I managed to escape to a wooded area. I removed my armor and hood, wearing the green T-shirt and blue jeans underneath.

I could see that it was dawn. I had to somehow make it back to the City.

After maybe half an hour of wandering through the windows, I heard someone call out my name.

"Cedric!" the voice called out.

That was George.

I turned and saw him. Instead of wearing the Quarryman armor and hood, he was wearing a cop uniform!

"I managed to borrow this uniform," he said. "It's best if you stick with me until we can get to a town. No one's gonna arrest you if they think you're with a cop."

"That makes sense," i said.

And so we went together for a walk for about an hour or so. It must have been mid-morning when we finally reached this small no-stoplight town.

"This is where we must part ways for a while, my friend," he said. "We hit a train that was transporting a prisoner guarded by at least five law enforcement agencies. Stay very, very low."

"I got a place where I could hide from the po-po. See ya, homie."