We Live Again
Episode 16: Virtue and Vice
By Cosmina Inspira
Disclaimer: All characters in the Gargoyles animated series, including The Goliath Chronicles are the copyright property of Disney and Buena Vista, originally created by Greg Weisman. No infringement is intended here nor authorized by the copyholders, this writer only writes for fun and love of the show and its characters. Characters such as Sata, Graeme, Ariana, Aurora are from The Gargoyles Saga and are used with permission with acknowledgement of TGS writers. All original characters such as Brando and Silvia Dracon belong to me, Cosmina Inspira, and may not be used without permission from me.
A/N: This story begins the night Goliath, Othello, and Griff are returning to the Eyrie Building near the end of Ep. 15: Justice.
****Previously on Gargoyles…
The Second glided down to her brother and sister with dawn only a short minute away, but there was still a chance.
They turned at her landing as she began to say, "Listen, there's something…"
But her words were cut short at the sight of Vikings hiding amongst the trees just beyond the castle, preparing to carry out the plan.
"Never mind," she sighed, "It's not important."
The two lifemates only looked at each other in confusion as they took their places for the day's sleep.
(City of Stone pt. 1) Canon
"Coldstone was created from pieces of different Gargoyles. Now all of our souls are trapped inside."
Desdemona (Legion) Canon
"We've been attacking the body. But if you want to kill snake, you cut off the head."
Tomas Brod (Turf) Canon
"Is this right? To do nothing is not the Gargoyle Way." Desdemona
"We are no longer Gargoyles. We are shadows." Othello
"Even shadows must be true to their shade." Desdemona as the Weird Sisters
(High Noon) Canon
"We all act, and we all bear responsibilities for our actions." Duval/Lancelot
Iris, Lily, and Rose pt. 2 (The Gargoyles Saga: Pendragon)
"Arthur Pennington appears to believe he's King Arthur, sir. And here I was thinking that we were just dealing with another criminal mastermind." Braddock
"So why's he doing all that smuggling? It doesn't sound like the way King Arthur acted in the books, after all." Winslow
The Once and Future King pt. 1 (The Gargoyles Saga: Pendragon)
"My daughter, Silvia, is another matter. She does show a bit of promise in taking over the family business, but she is still a bit too promiscuous to really understand the inner workings of business, perhaps that is in some part my doing as I doted on her as a child, and her hellion spirit leaves much to be desired." Brando Dracon
"It might not be too late in educating your daughter in the finer points of business and how to run it." Fox
"Perhaps, Mrs. Xanatos. But in my family it has always been tradition to have a male heir, and unless Anthony learns some discipline I'm looking to find a proper suitor for Silvia and marry her off to my appointed successor. Someone with a mind for business marketing, calculating ruthlessness, and ambition, but not lacking in a bit of cleverness and cunning as a man needs these traits to get ahead of the competition." Brando Dracon
Prodigal (Labyrinth ch. 2)
****Prologue, The Void
The latest journey through the dark still proved challenging, but each time it became a bit easier, yet it still took immense strength to push through the empty void that could only be compared with the feeling of trying to walk fully submerged deep in thick mud while sparks of light crackled and burst all around and blinded her eyes while trying to steadfastly hold you back with electrifying pain.
After having told the others about that first journey and the great struggle it had taken, they all had been adamant about refusing to join in later sojourns through what had become known to them as the Void, a place that was empty or unknown and acted as a veil, a border between the unreal realm they now inhabited and the true world.
So it had always been up to her to make the journey through the Void, to break through the electric veil and make contact with the outside and search for those she knew could help them.
Each attempt had been for naught, for she was only able to for some moments glimpse unfamiliar scenes of the outside world with nary a living soul in sight.
But she had to keep trying, for all her trials in passing through the Void she knew each time was a chance closer to achieving freedom, though the others only believed it to be a fool's errand and had nearly reserved themselves to the fate of being eternally trapped in their virtual purgatory.
But she refused to believe that, to give into despair and fear, for it greatly surprised her how those she knew to be of a warrior's courage instead chose a more cowardly way of not even trying to understand their current situation.
So, it was up to her, and since then she could only but be bemused by the irony of where the need for clever wits was more called for rather than the strength of the warrior's sword, but such musings were best left for another time.
The way was becoming more difficult now, the luminosity and intense sting of the dancing sparks attacked her very being like a furious living entity, setting her nerves aflame with excruciating pain. Yet she knew this to be the final sign she drew nearer to her goal instead of the challenge to just give up in futile pursuit.
She pushed on as the darkness surrounding her became more intense and determined to hold her back, the starbursts of lightning sparking about her at their most furious. She pushed passed it now, onward to the window she knew to be there as she felt the Void's hold on her grip tightly. She knew she will not have much time, so she had to make this latest chance count somehow.
Forcing herself past the energy veil that separated the two worlds, she sighted an unfamiliar yet comforting scene of a living area where a large gathering of family may be found. Just as before, she saw no living soul nearby until movement caught her eye. A statuesque caramel tan Gargoyle entered the room to then look in the journeyer's direction.
She called out to the one she knew as her split winged sister, but instead of a voice, all that emanated from her throat was a sound like the harsh indecipherable buzz of a huge swarm of locusts.
Then, like the tensity power of a drawn back bow string for too long, the veil flung her back with dizzying speed and all she remembered was numbing darkness.
Surely it had to be a trick of some kind, or else she has begun to go mad, for certain Desdemona just saw what looked like the face of her clever sister from the computer's screen.
But for certain that was impossible, for much of the clan had been destroyed more than a thousand years ago.
Yet, Desdemona knew herself, Othello, and their evil brother now called Coldsteel to be evidence to the contrary.
****A penthouse on 5th Avenue, the next day
"You're telling me it will cost more?" Brando Dracon yelled with controlled anger as he spoke with the city's reputed best catering company over the phone, "As I told you before, I won't go over the agreed price, but I will have a perfect celebration. You will cater what we agreed on, no more, or I will take my business to another caterer, a better one who is willing offer a lower price!"
The caterer on the other end of the phone gave a nervous laugh and stammered something about a terrible misunderstanding on their part and are more than happy to have the privilege of catering for the happy affair of Miss Silvia Draconis. Brando gave an arrogant smile to the caterer's fearful reaction, for he always had a skill he had perfected in his illustrious career of knowing how to sting another's pride and using it against them.
"I'm glad we understand each other," he said, then slammed the phone hard onto its cradle upon his desk.
Brando gave a heavy frustrated sigh, for this was only the latest in a long line of problems he has faced in arranging his daughter's 21st birthday.
The Summer Garden Restaurant had been booked months ago for a private gathering for much of New York City's elite with a live Broadway music orchestra and finest food he could afford, and a long list of A-list people were all invited, along with a few 'close friends' and 'business associates.' Yet for a few days now, Brando has had to deal with many small trivial details in one form or another for the party, and it galled him to no end how incompetent people could be when lacking any iota of intellect to take care of even the smallest and simplest of problems. Aside from the caterer, Brando had had to deal with enough seating for guests; importing of enough of a rare and finest champaign; and the most frustrating were with who will attend or not because of animosity towards other guests or personal trivial morality. It took so much of Brando's own cold manipulation skills and equally cold suave charisma to give many of the would-be absent guests good reasons to attend in the first place.
Few proved to be immune to Brando Dracon's influence, such as David Xanatos and the reclusive enigmatic Alexander Thailog, yet Dracon saw them as intriguing challenges rather than frustrating inconveniences.
Rising from his plush leather chair behind a large polished dark oak desk, he made his way to check on the party's star, his daughter, Silvia Dracon.
Brando gave a few knocks at her closed bedroom door before opening it, hearing shouts and yells of anger from within.
"Silvia?" he called, "Sweetheart, are you alright?"
He opened the door to find Silvia's large bedroom in a state of disarray with expensive and once Avant-guarde clothes of varying styles and designs all over the floor, hanging from various places like the dresser, vanity mirror, entertainment center, or even the frame of her queen-sized four-poster bed, upon which he then noticed within the silvery white and red rumpled up satin bed coverings lay a motionless half naked burly male figure.
More expensive designer clothing continued to fly out of the walk-in closet to splash the room with vibrant colors as an angered female voice yelled from within, "No! No! Ugly! Out of date! When did I get this piece of crap?! I wouldn't wear this a little girl's tea party! What the hell was I thinking!?..."
"Silvia Bulla, what is going on in here?!" Brando shouted over his daughter's yelling.
Stepping out of the closet scantily clad in only silk white bra and lacy panties, while holding up two designer dresses from last Spring, Silvia wined, "Daddy, I have nothing to wear for my birthday!"
Brando looked around at the mess despondently, all of the clothes something Silvia begged him to buy for her because they were the 'latest fashion that was all the rage' and 'she would just die if she didn't have them.'
"What about this mess you've made?" he yelled sternly, "I've bought you all those pricey dresses, and you tell me you have nothing to wear?"
Silvia just scoffed, "Pfft, that's all trash from last year. This is my 21st birthday and I won't be outshined or upstaged, I gotta be beyond fabulous!"
Brando could only pinch the bridge of his nose and grunt at his spoiled daughter's dismissive retort as he eyed the unmoving figure in her bed. He then recognized him as one of Silvia's bodyguards, Mugsy Moran, and he showed no sign of stirring from his blissful sleep. As he took a closer look at Mugsy, he was not only unmoving but his skin was pale and his eyes rolled so far back up his head there only the literal whites of his eyes were visible, and his body was in a position that defined the height of sexual ecstasy. Brando felt for a pulse on Mugsy, and although it was weak at least it was there and he was still alive, if just barely.
"What's happened to Moran?" he asked with controlled shock, "He looks almost comatose."
"Heh, who knows," Silvia brushed off, "He obviously didn't have as much drive as he boasted about. Ah, well, it was satisfying enough."
Silvia walked out her closet now dressed in light Winter clothing that was stylish yet she still somehow made seductive.
Before Brando had half a chance to scold her about her attitude and her 'inappropriate' use of his men, she swaggered off out of her room with a sensual roll of her hips as she stated in a snobbish matter-of-fact tone to him, "I'm going shopping. Bye, Daddy."
She made her way down the hall, snapped her fingers hard as two more suited bodyguards were by her side and she was soon gone.
Brando Dracon could only think that after this birthday party, he will need to be more strict with his daughter. Or better yet, hopefully his real plan for the party will work and he'll have found a worthy successor to the Dracon Family.
****An undisclosed location, same day
The abandoned decaying building stood as an empty lonely shell of its former self, the ghost of a sentry on guard against would be thieves who would dare rob its secrets, though now such secrets were now considered best forgotten.
Within there was only one secret worth discovering as it became active at that moment with signs of life the crumbling building had not witnessed in many lonely years, a secret with malevolent intentions.
Tomas Brod, Prague-born native of the Czech Republic and Eastern European crime boss stood commandingly in front of a group or equally dangerous men; mostly those loyal to him from Prague and the Dracon debacle several years ago. A few newer members of his current gang were looking for a share of the pay off or also had a vendetta and grudge against anyone associated with the Dracon Mafia, one of whom was the familiar face of Jack Danforth.
As the muscular dark haired Brod looked over his followers, old and new, allowed some of his thoughts to wander and mixed emotions to rise within him, though his face didn't betray any emotion, as he thought of the consequences of all his struggles had finally brought him to this moment.
Wanting to escape the continuing frustrating interference of the menacing Golem and its whelp of a caretaker, Brod decided to make a new start in America. But just as any entrepreneur knew, he had to get rid of the biggest competition. Not long after arriving in New York, he sought out the strongest of syndicates so as to begin attacking its operations or seizing control of them.
As Brod's turf war with Tony Dracon progressed, he was certain he would've won had it not been for two unplanned contingencies. The first were the Gargoyles interference, and unlike the Golem in Prague, Brod had thought it had just been a one time fluke he would only see happen once but had been proven dead wrong. The other had been the surprising revelation of the identity of the only female member of his previous New York gang, Salli. The blond haired bombshell had turned out to be an undercover police woman name Elisa Maza, her true identity betrayed to Brod by none other than his then would be target and rival, Tony Dracon. It was the only thing the ruthless European gang leader held a grudging gratitude for to Dracon, which disgusted him even more.
In the end, he gained nothing but prison time and wound up sharing a cell with his hated rival, and proceeded to take out their frustration on each other by beating the snot out of each other, even if it was just for twisted entertainment for the corrupted prison guards.
They were finally forced to be separated some days later, but far too late for Brod's taste. Though Tomas Brod was maybe bigger and stronger than the venomously suave softly pampered Tony Dracon, the skunk haired idiot was still able to put up a good enough fight. From Dracon alone, Brod had received a lot of black eyes, a nearly broken and bloodied nose, bruised ribs and a minor concussion.
There was a bit of a consolation and for Brod in knowing Tony Boy had not faired much better.
But the frustration and struggles hadn't ended there.
Only two months later of having served jail time, the goddamn American legal system brought charges to Brod in a court of law including illegal weapons possession, vandalism, attempted murder, property damage to a government building and other places, and several far worse crimes. Another month later, he was brought to trial and quickly found guilty of all charges.
Another few weeks later, because of his and several members of his gang's illegal immigration status, his behind was shipped back to Prague to face more criminal charges, most of which he had faced before.
Brod and surviving members of his gang spent what felt like the longest time rotting in a Hell in dirty corrupted Czech prisons, but the ambitious crime boss was far from truly defeated.
It then took Brod the better part of three years, nearly maybe four, to put together enough resources, the details of which he didn't want to think about, to pool together to free his men, recruit new members, and smuggle them back into the United States.
Now all his struggles and ruthless, grueling hard work had culminated into this moment and the real pay-off reward that is soon to follow, but it all was not without some hard learned lessons.
The first lesson was the discovery Dracon may have been a top ranking leader of the New York City criminal underworld, however it turned out Dracon happen to mention in passing he had a n uncle who really held the power in New York. It was that Brod deduced that like a hereditary monarchy, Tony Dracon may have had power and influence, but he was more a princely 'heir apparent' and still answered to the real ruler and 'head of the family,' his paternal uncle, Brando Dracon.
Last time Tomas Brod wanted to aim for the head of the snake in order to bring down Dracon's hold, but now he realized he didn't aim high enough. He had gone after the heart, not a thinking head.
Now he has re-aimed his sights on the senior Dracon, not just for retribution, but to finally begin staking his hold on the Manhattan criminal underbelly.
Another hard lesson he learned was to make double, even triple sure, the new members of his current gang were absolutely loyal to him and only him, as well as none were undercover cops or even Federal officers, because if they were he would shoot them on the spot without hesitation.
The final lesson he had taken great pains to be prepared for, should the need arise, and strong instinct in every fiber of his being told him it will happen if Dracon telling him of the numerous times it's happened to him was any indication.
He stood with an imposing and commanding presence as he looked out at the gathered members of his currently criminal crew, all of the awaiting for what he had to say.
Though his hardened but handsome Eastern European face betrayed no emotions whatsoever, Brod was still extremely pleased with what he had been able to pull together from what was left of his old crew in New York and limited resources, including no longer having his long destroyed hovercraft.
"You all know why you are here," he finally said to the moderate crowd, "You all have a different reason for being here, but we all have the same goal: To bring down Dracon's rule and we take over!" The crowd gave affirmative shouts of 'Yeah!'. "We have planned, trained, and prepared for this moment for a long time, and there is no turning back. But be warned, should I see any hint of deception or insubordination, there will be no tolerance, and you know the consequences of betrayal."
The crowd remained silent, but there were some nods of acknowledgement.
"You all know your jobs," Brod continued louder, "Tomorrow night, we strike Brando Dracon at his most vulnerable; at his gala for his prissy and over primped brat, rich snobs and weak pampered fools. He believes himself untouchable, and that's what makes him the biggest fool of all. The raging crime war has stretched him too thin and has made him weak. So there will be no better chance to strike. Down with Dracon!"
Brod punched a fist hard into the air, his gang mirrored him as they chanted with gusto, "Down with Dracon!"
Only then did Brod allow his face to show emotion as his lips formed a cold smile of sinister malice.