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Brood of a New Age
93.
In the text there is a music hint to accompany text section that follows it: The reader can already pick out the video to start it at this section and be less torn out of the reading flow (or can ignore the music altogether). It is just an accompaniment.
Youtube: The Smashing Pumpkins - Tonight, Tonight (Official Music Video) - min. 4.18 from start or from minute 0.45
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"Nashville!" he heard his father scream with never-before-heard panic in his voice, as soon as the clan had come crashing in through various windows to encircle the enemy on all sides. But everyone had taken cover as machine guns had started firing. Not only that, but scattered red laser beams hissed through the room. These were just for aiming, really deadly was the invisible particle beam that came with it.
"Kill them. All of them!" shrieked Castaway above him, a maniacal, almost happy look in his eyes! He pulled a walkie talkie from a pocket in his Quarrymen uniform and brought it to his mouth. Nashville gritted his teeth, rolled onto his back so hard he thought his wing bars would break, yanked up his bound legs and kicked Castaway in the shin so hard he buckled. The radio slammed to the ground beside Nash, he reared up, throwing himself on top of the thing and hearing it shatter into a dozen pieces.
"You son of a-!" Castaway yelled, but his insult was drowned as an olive-green hissing gargoyle threw itself at him and thundered its fists into his oh-so-noble face. His web-wing uncle jumped down from the Quarrymen leader lying on the ground. Nashville knew he probably didn't see that he was smiling, and the smile quickly faded as a particle beam just a meter from them both cut through one of the numerous crates in the warehouse as if they were butter. Someone yanked him aside by the shoulders and suddenly he was at the edge of the hall behind some iron barrels and had Lex next and his mother right in front of him.
There was a gleam in her eyes like Nash had never seen before. It could be nothing but fear. Fear for him. Without caring about the bamboo rope that scratched her own beak in the process, she hugged him tightly and showered his face with kisses. "My baby,myhatchling, ,neverdothatto meagain," she said frantically and barely audibly over the hisses, roars and gunshots. He felt Lexington tampering with the ropes that bound his wrists and wings with his claws, and his mother carefully slid the thin blade of her wakizashi under the bamboo rope and had it cut in three seconds. While Lex also took care of the ropes around his ankles and tail Nashville was finally able to hug his mom.
Tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry," he stammered, sobbing with relief. His mom took his face in her hands and kissed him again - so much physicality and display of affection only testified to her fear and the deadly environment Nash told himself just as fearfully.
"Nash- Chan," his mother said, losing her beatific smile at the reunion in favor of a serious tense warrior expression.
"This battle is not yet decided! Lexington and I have to go into combat."
As if to punctuate that, a scream that didn't sound human was heard at another end of the hall, and all three gargoyles shuddered. Angela hissed and Nash saw her press a hand to her upper arm. Blood was oozing from between her fingers. Barely two seconds later, bright lights flared as Coldfire shot her flames from her palms with a shrill artificial screech, and her mate simultaneously electrocuted two Quarrymen. Only to be shot in the back with a particle beam by one of Dracon's men and go down. His father AND Dante were fighting back to back, others of his family were crushing ceiling lights to gain an advantage in the darkness, but had to take cover again because they were being shot at or hit with quarry hammers from all sides. Hudson was just hit by a hammer and screeched, but slammed at the same time the flat side of his sword to the head of the guy he had just torn the hood off his head and thus led the electric shock into the body of the human.
One more kiss from his mother, then he lost her hand. The hatchling in his head screamed for her, screamed for his kaachan. But she was gone. And the part of him that was older, the part that was a warrior, knew she had to go. No gargoyle is left behind, that's why they had come. For him. His uncle fiddled with the back of Nashville's neck. He heard something buzzing, then the shock collar fell off his neck as if it had never been a problem in the first place.
"How did you-"
"No time," Lex said. "You can thank Graziella later if we survived this." Lexington hugged him unusually tightly as if he never wanted to let him go. Yet he did. "Stay here," he said in a rookery keeper tone. "We can't lose you again. Stay here." Nashville nodded. Then his uncle was gone, too. Lex didn't even notice Castaway's seemingly unconscious body was gone. Nashville sank to the ground wide-eyed, almost unaware of the battle around him. Again, only one thought in his mind. Graziella.
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Too fast! Too fast! Grace had never thought she would feel so uncomfortable in the air. But they were a good four times as fast as a Gargoyle, and even though Mister Xanatos was holding her, she felt nauseous for the first time in her life (although her stomach was so much stronger than her brother's). She peered to the side despite massive air wind. Where she was in Mister Xanatos' arms (or rather in those of his red metal armor, which looked strangely similar to Goliath), Luca was in Mrs. Xanatos' arms. She was also wearing silver armor that resembled a female gargoyle - though not Angela. Even the blue Fox tattoo had been transferred to the battle armor. Finally. At last the two billionaires landed and Grace slipped out of the steel encased arms like Luca.
Xanatos didn't even have to comment that this building across the street was where the radio transmitter he had planted on Goliath (supposedly an old habit) had led them. The location where the battle was currently taking place, that was unmistakable. War roars, screams, gunshots, even machine-gun salvos were coming from the dilapidated building. Obviously, the main battle took place on the lowest hall-like floor. And this was ideal, because this had a large-scale front of hundreds of delicate steel profiles framed glass windows.
"Perfect," Grace murmured, sliding to the edge of the roof and pulling the strap of her new weapon from her shoulder. A german G 22. Light and elegant. The trigger modified for gargoyle hands. Almost beautiful enough that she could forget for the moment the black holes that the next few minutes would burn into her soul. Almost. But that wouldn't stop her. She was doing it for Dante. And a little bit for Nashville. Luca knelt wordlessly beside her, and though he had fear sweat on his forehead from the flight, he pulled his new night vision scope from a pocket of his Kevlar vest and pulled it over and took out his new gun, too. A beautiful handy Xan-Arm P50. A prototype that the subsidiary of Xanatos Enterprises would probably not sell to another company for several years. He had said he was not a good sniper. But the fact that he stood by her to save her brother made him all the more lovable. He would hurt and kill for her. That was ... sexy.
"Shall we, my dear?" she heard Xanatos say behind her. His voice sounded mechanically distorted by his helm as did his wife's.
"Oh David, you always take me out to the most exciting places," Mrs. Xanatos said jokingly as if they weren't about to engage in carnage. The two billionaires in their gargoyle-shaped battle armors lifted off the roof with jet engine noises and thundered through the glass facade into the middle of the fight.
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Graziella couldn't believe it!
They had left her in the mansion. Told her to go to BED!
And that after Sonny had driven ahead to "The Granary" which was probably a popular drop off point for "illegal goods".
But she was not going to be pushed off that easily. She was Graziella Dracon, dammit! Nashville needed her as well as the big strong gargoyles! She had the knives. Dante had put on the other three splinters but he hadn't found the fourth. Of course he hadn't! Because Graziella had kept it hidden under her hoodie sleeve. Five knives. She was dangerous with them. She could kill with them - for Nash, she would. If she had to. He wouldn't die. She wouldn't let him. Even if she had to cut the throats of her dad and that Castaway asshole herself.
She wasn't a useless kid. Nor was she stupid. The other gargoyles should have taken that into consideration. As always, children were underestimated.
She leaned forward grimly as the car just crept along. She heard police sirens in the distance.
"I need to get to that address fast."
"Gee, honey," muttered the cab driver of the company she'd called from a public pay phone and thrown a hundred dollars at, in a sluggish German accent. "This is New York. There's always traffic jams here. In Berlin it was rather-"
"How much farther is it to the address I gave you? And which way?" she asked between clenched teeth.
Automatically, without the driver understood her intention, he answered. "Maybe ... A mile that way," he muttered with a point of his finger. Graziella pulled open the car door and ran off without listening to the adult's call.
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Meanwhile, Dino and his men had stormed into the hall through the back entrance. One of his men melted the door lock with one of their own particle weapons. No one would leave here prematurely. Not until he had finished off Tony (and gladly Castaway and some Gargoyles too). His people started shooting around as soon as they saw movement from any direction.
The Gargoyles, despite their abilities and speed, were no match for so many armed people. At the latest when the guys in the police outfits appeared - but they were clearly not police or GTF because they immediately started shooting - they all had to flee into dark corners.
If it had been only the Quarrymen, some of whom were not experienced in combat, and only Dracon's men, that would have been one thing. But the air became too leaden even for agitated gargoyles who were almost in berserker mode. Especially since, according to their promise to Sonny, they tried not to kill anyone. Which had little effect, however, when the people they had disarmed by cuts and blows to their weapon-carrying hands and arms were mowed down barely seconds later by a particle beam or a bullet.
"Is everyone shooting at everyone here?" growled Katana, who loathed this chaos. There was no honor in such a fight.
Coldfire again ducked behind the lined-up Sky sleds some of the Quarrymen must have arrived with. "We've obviously gotten into a war bigger than we could have anticipated," she said. One of the particle beams had melted the flamethrower in her right hand. Even with nanotech repair mode, that took a few minutes. Nothing here that they used for cover really stopped particle beams or bullets from large caliber weapons. Their best chance to survive longer was to take cover and wait until an opportunity to strike presented itself.
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"We're cornered!" growled Dante, who had dragged Coldstone's stiff body here (did he even have to save the guy? Couldn't he have parts of his body replaced at the nearest blacksmith?). Goliath nodded. His massive figure didn't fit at all behind the overturned heavy-duty shelving. It was his good fortune that in the meantime several ceiling lights in the hall had been broken by shelling and claw strikes, and many corners lay in darkness. But it would be better for his warriors if the power went out altogether.
Then he saw a figure limping away. And he recognized who it was. For months they had been trying to avoid the citizens he had manipulated so as not to harm any of them lethally. But that protective status didn't apply to Castaway. Not after this monster had tried to buy and slay their only hatchling. And now, running up the stairs to one of the upper floors, Goliath just knew that this fiend had one more trump card up his sleeve that could cost them all their lives. He had to stop him.
Goliath jumped up despite the hail of bullets and sprinted across the room on all fours.
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Xanatos was hit in the back by a particle beam. Those were HIS weapons. Which were stolen from him by Dracon last year. And both Dracon's men - of whom there couldn't be more than three left - and some of the guys in the full body suits had them! From the scrap metal they had salvaged after Goliath's intervention, there were still a few of these big guns missing. His wife writhed under the sustained particle beam that would cook her in her own armor in a few seconds and also damage her onboard electronics so that she could not fight back or escape. Ignoring his own red glowing warning indicators in his suit, he finished off both the man who had shot at him and the one maltreating his beloved with presumably lethal shots from his forearm projectiles. Then he lifted his moaning wife.
"I think a strategic retreat would be appropriate," he shouted, igniting his sputtering engine and sailing out of the hall much less powerfully and gracefully than he had come in. He didn't get far, having to land clumsily just outside the building.
"Don't move! Police!"
He let his wife slip from his arms and slowly raised his hands.
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Brooklyn rubbed his hand. His gun had been shot out of his hand. He could see through the hole in his palm, for crying out loud! Worse - his gun was now lying somewhere in the hall kicked away by some panicked Quarrymen who had been caught by a bullet right after. It didn't look good. And the human scum whimpering next to him didn't make it any better.
Brooklyn had grabbed Tony Dracon, who was crawling away under fire, and was still pressing him to the ground with his clawed foot.
"Let me go!" he gasped. "I want to get out of here!"
Brooklyn yanked him into a crouching position, eyes blazing. "Just like my son wanted out of the cage? I should push you out into the hail of bullets from your own people."
"No! No, I'm sorry. I'll never do it again!"
"I'll take your word for that, you shithead. Pathetic idiot." He nudged Tony toward Broadway, who had just bandaged Angela's arm wound and was now snarling at the mobster. "You're lucky you're a father and that this kid needs you."
The mobster made eyes as big as saucers why that the monsters knew this about him. But it didn't really matter. As long as that was what kept him alive.
"Yes! Yes, I love my little Gabriella. I want to go back to her and take her in my arms."
The gargoyles rolled their eyes. At that moment, Dante dashed behind their crates they had taken cover behind and rubbed the graze on his shoulder. "Damn guys, there's too many of them and they've taken cover behind things by now too. There's a threat of hardening fronts and Goliath is-"
His gaze found Tony Dracon's. Tony opened his mouth. Dante raised a clenched fist and punched his lights out before the human could utter a sound.
"Hey!" said Broadway.
"What?" asked Dante flippantly. "He put Nash and me in a cage and almost barbecued us both. And I'm not allowed to knock him out for that? He's just useless baggage around here anyway."
"Dante's right," Brooklyn growled, peering out from behind her crate.
Broadway lifted his head and saw Lexington's spidery form crawling across the iron ray beams on the ceiling. He guessed what his brother was up to and grinned.
"Lex is about to provide a locational advantage."
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Castaway had seen one of his boys running up here. He found him on the second floor behind the stairwell, his hammer clutched fearfully in his hands. The far room here housed rusty closets and overturned desks.
"A soldier doesn't leave battle, that's TREASON!" screeched Castaway.
"You're up here too," whimpered the traitor. He had torn off his hood. He was a boy of about twenty.
"I don't want to die," he whimpered with tears in his eyes. John would have liked to spit on him.
"In war, foot soldiers just die. Give me your radio, mine's not working anymore."
The boy pulled out his device and handed it to him.
"And the hammer," Castaway ordered. The boy stood up with shaking legs.
"I'd like to -"
"THE HAMMER, you worm!" He snatched the tool of ultimate justice from his fingers, kicked him aside so that he stumbled ... and both human and gargoyle, who had just entered the floor, heard the wet crack as the boy hit his head on the edge of a table and fell lifeless to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Goliath looked briefly at the dead boy, then his cold white gaze lifted to the leader of the Quarrymen. But he was no real leader. A leader thought of himself last. Not first.
"You have no honor, Castaway," Goliath growled. He and John circled each other ten feet apart. The human held the heavy electricity-spraying Quarrymen's hammer in one hand, testifying to a strength that could only come from decades of training. Not the strength that a supposedly well-mannered English pied piper should have. Rather the strength of a Hunter active since his youth.
"This hasn't been about honor for a long time. Not for generations."
"The Canmores - the Hunters. We know you're part of this family. But this vendetta must stop. Two of your kin are in jail. Another on the run."
Castaway laughed. "Oh demon, you have no idea."
"Outcasts. Eternally vengeful spirits in fleshly bodies. What does this war bring to your family but suffering and death. For certain, no one can remember the trigger for taking up this unfortunate calling. Did you have no other dreams as a child than to kill other beings? Do you want nothing better for your children?"
"I will not rest until I reach my goal. Or until you kill me. I will kill your demon queen and all of you."
"Demona CAN'T be killed! No one can."
"LIES! I will find a way to cut her unholy bond with Satan. Maybe ... I'll lure her to me by sending her kin to hell tonight." He raised the radio to his lips and pressed a button.
"Downfall!" he crowed into the device as Goliath leapt toward him.
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Lexington preferred his mind, screwdriver and soldering iron. But sometimes ... a few well-aimed punches against a rather aged power distributor would do the trick to improve the odds in a fight. He wanted to get back into battle but stumbled over a woman's body that had been dumped here. And not just any woman. "What the fuck!"
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The light had gone out. But that hardly helped when at least the Special OPS fakes had night vision.
Dante hated being so inactive. He had taken out two Quarrymen, but that was just a drop in the bucket. The enemies in the hall seemed to be multiplying. Since none of the gargoyles killed, the opponents sometimes came back. He rubbed his palms over his face behind his box. Shots were fired again and again. Who was being shot at, he imagined, by now everyone had taken cover. Or were the humans shooting at each other? That would be good for the clan. He took a few deep breaths to sort out his thoughts. For the first time he was tired of fighting and hurting others. It was no fun and brought him no peace. His father was gone. Why had he wanted to restart his career as a mobster and killer after his death? There was no point.
He remembered the feeling he had had in those minutes on stage in that club. With Ria and Vittorio and Ron behind him. He had felt comfortable there. And safe. And accepted. Nervous, yes, but he had seen the light. Three minutes. When he got out of here, he swore to himself, he would try to find the three. He would be a part of their band again. He couldn't play guitar and he couldn't be their bandleader but he would jam one more time with these three dorky wonderful humans. Three more minutes of inner peace, three minutes of having a clan that accepted him, even welcomed him. Before he absconded to Italy and crawled into a hole in the woods. That would probably be the only way to escape his dark heritage and the people who hated gargoyles. And as Dante sat there thinking about his future (or lack of any future), the sequence of gunshots stole into his consciousness. The pattern of impacts, which hit the crumbling concrete floor of the hall without striking a target. Four times briefly. Pause. Twice short. Pause. Once short. Pause. Another shot that bounced off some piece of metal but made a more elongated sound. And once short again on the concrete floor. He took his hands from his eyes. The pattern repeated itself.
... .. . .-.
"THAT!" he yelled out, causing the three gargoyles next to him to flinch.
"What?" asked Brooklyn bitingly.
Dante grinned at him. "The firing frequency! I recognize that pattern! That's my sister shooting!"
Dante looked to the row of windows. Red and blue lights flickered in from outside - a sign that the state force was out. But it didn't matter right now. She had to be on the opposite roof. And sure enough, he spied two crouched shadows there. Two? Grace AND Luca. This dreamteam. He started to laugh. He estimated how high the roof was, what their angle of fire was due to the restrictions of the glass facade. If one of their enemies ran into this area, visible from the roof and windows, they would eliminate him.
"Grace?" asked Angela.
"YES. And Luca. Those two maniacs. They've taken up position outside."
"How do you know?"
"Because she's sending me Morse code. With her firing pattern."
"WHAT!"
Youtube: The Smashing Pumpkins - Tonight, Tonight (Official Music Video) from start or from minute 0.45
Dante laughed louder.
Then he stood up. Everything happened for him as if in slow motion. Not as if in a nightmare. But the slow motion of an epic movie scene in which he was the hero. The music in his head swelled, giving him a high like he was flying. Broadway and Angela both grabbed his wrists but he shook them off. Their screams were pure fear as he slowly emerged from behind the crates.
He pushed his previous thoughts away. Dying was no longer an option. Not with the Della Marra killers working together. He was lethal. And so was his sister in a different way. But together, they were a force of nature. Dante strode down the hall with his head held high like the prince he had always been. And the humans, convinced of the madness of this one gargoyle and certain that none of their inhuman opponents had a long-range weapon, came out of their covers to finish him off face to face. A Quarrymen ran at him with a sparking hammer and lost the hammer when a shot hit him in the shoulder. Dante danced to the side so the Quarrymen's tool wouldn't touch him, then jammed one of his knives through the wrist of one of Dracon's guys, severing the tendons he needed to fire. Then he kicked one of the not-OPS guys backward into just the position his sister needed to shoot him in the thigh. The screams mixed with the music.
We'll crucify the insincere tonight
(Tonight.)
We'll make things right, we'll feel it all tonight
(Tonight.)
We'll find a way to offer up the night
(Tonight)
The indescribable moments of your life
(Tonight)
The impossible is possible tonight
(Tonight)
The Della Marra Hellspawn may not existing anymore. But there was still Dante and Grace. No, Fiore and Eva. This was both of their farewell show as butchers. And they would all get out of this shit and he would become a fucking rock star and find the light with his human clan.
At that moment he saw a gasping Graziella standing at the edge of the hall.
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Not fast enough. Not fast enough. Even with his dirtbike and disregarding all road rules, he was not faster than a winged creature. Even his fake ID, with which he had always gotten away with the cops because his size made him look really older, wouldn't help him when he was pretty much ignoring every red light, cutting every cyclist and car. Sonny knew it was stupid not to let himself get a lift over a WingTaxi. But the thought of gliding. His legs were shaking at the thought alone.
He heard ambulances in the distance. He just knew they were headed in the same direction he was headed. He meandered through the cars stalled on this street. Until a car door was yanked open and Elisa Maza jumped out.
"You?"
Elisa clipped the blue light off the boxy Ford stuck in traffic, tossed it onto the passenger seat, locked up and came to him with a determined expression.
"Nice bike," she said.
Sonny pulled up his upper lip. "Are you going to bust me for being an underage guy riding around on this thing?"
"On the contrary." She zipped up her leather jacket. "I need a ride. Some asshole up ahead crashed his car, and I need to get to that address you gave us before all my colleagues get there. Or at least at the same time."
"Why weren't you given a ride from the mansion? As the crow flies."
"This is going to be a gargoyle operation. Almost all the Manhattan cops and the GTF are headed there right now. Goliath dropped me off at my car. That was on the way. It pisses me off too but need to get to the scene human style so I can steer things in the right direction among my colleagues - if I can. They must not suspect anything. Otherwise I can't help the clan."
Sonny grinned broadly.
"Double-crossing? Pretty naughty for one of New York's finest. Isn't everything always black and white, huh?"
Elisa's smile was much less broad.
"Let's put off the junior mobster and detective conflict for another time, okay? Just take me with you."
Three intersections down, five police cars sped by with sirens wailing.
Sonny looked at Elisa again. Seriously this time. "Okay. I guess we both have ... people we need to protect."
"You don't have to worry about Graziella. We left her at the mansion."
Sonny stared at her for a moment. And then laughed out loud.
"You adults are really cute sometimes! I know my bossgirl better than that. When the shit hits the fan, she jumps in headfirst. Well then. As long as I don't get a ticket. Saddle up. It's not far now."
"You got it," Elisa called over the approaching rattle of a helicopter. It wasn't the most unusual thing in New York. Xanatos and other big shots had private flying machines. The TV stations even more so, and Elisa was sick at the thought that she and her unsuspecting colleagues would have to keep away from the building where the fight would take place not only residents and onlookers, but also TV crews from all over the city, including the vultures in the TV-helicopters. But the rattling grew louder and louder. And it sounded wrong. Absolutely WRONG!
Sonny and Elisa nearly toppled off his bike as they threw their hands over their heads like everyone else in the street, dropping to the ground or seeking cover.
The military helicopter with the big Quarrymen symbol on the ground panel thundered deafeningly loud through the canyon of houses only fifty meters above their heads. In exactly the direction in which he was also on the way. In the direction in which Sonny had sent the clan. Where Tony and his father AND Graziella were. Both Elisa and Sonny recognized the large caliber weapons riveted to the helicopter.
"Fuck, NO!" screamed Elisa, grabbing her jacket collar where her two way was stuck. Or ... had been stuck. She looked down, moved her foot from which she thought she felt only a stone through the sole. But it was not a stone. The radio plug must have fallen off just as they were taking cover. And now it was junk. And she couldn't warn her friends, her family.
"OH JALAPEÑO!"
More author comments on the helicopter and weapons, among other things, at the end of the second Downfall chapter.
Thanks for reading, Q.T.