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Brood of a New Age

55.

Brooklyn felt really old some nights. Not because he had to pee all the time like old humans did or because his bones cracked (which they sometimes did) or because this one particular vertebra kept giving him problems without him being able to remember when and how he had injured it. For sure during his time travels but he had been through so many stations in 40 years that many things flowed into each other and sometimes he had the impression that he had simply forgotten.

He didn't feel old per se because his brothers and even Goliath were younger than him now. He just sometimes had the impression that time flowed too fast. As a hatchling it had seemed to him that a summer night would last forever, and even his memory supported that. Now no night was long enough and yet every morning he longed for his stone sleep. Was it just the burden of being Second? Sure he was relieved when Goliath got out of jail and he had been able to step back into the second row. He had somewhat reconciled with his brothers after the events with the Egg, Demona, the Dracons the month before last, and everything seemed a little better on that front as well.

But now the thing with Dante. Generally the affair with the three newcomers. He knew Goliath respected his opinion (now that he was older than him more than before probably) and presumably also expected them to sit down and discuss the future of the Italians in their clan with each other. But honestly - all three of them had such trouble fitting in. Grace and Luca were trying, and yet it was obvious to everyone that they weren't really warming up to anyone in the clan. That was because of their lies, which they still tried to keep up even though their original story was getting more and more incomplete. And now this outburst from Dante, who was right now fighting his way through New York alone and by all four points of the sky, Brooklyn was praying to the moon and stars that he didn't literally physically fight his way through all of New York. At least his knives were still in safekeeping.

Or the other extreme - what if Dante himself was in mortal danger? He was strong and brutal but the city was teeming with Quarrymen - both hooded and unhooded. Sure, voices were raised that saw the Quarrymen themselves as a danger, increasingly looming and more threatening than Gargoyles themselves. But still, any woman or man of any age out there could have a hammer under his or her bed. What if Dante petrified somewhere where he would be discovered and crushed during the day? Grace said he could take care of himself, but Dante was a foreigner. He wasn't as familiar with Manhattan, New York, all of America and its inhabitants as would be helpful. And he had grown up (even though he might have been a murderer) around humans and didn't shy away from them as he should. Brooklyn, at the latest after the "employees" line, no longer believed it had been just Grace, Dante and their father. If Dante died - even if he hadn't been accepted into the clan because of his adaptation difficulties and his past history - it would be a shock for Grace and Luca. Yes, for the whole clan. And another failure for him as Second.

Brooklyn frowned, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his claws. He had a bit of heartburn again - probably a sign that he might be prone to stress-related stomach ulcers in his later years, like a human. Katana kept telling him not to brood so much. But brooding was better than another knee-jerk reaction like the idea of shooting Goliath right out of Rykers. What a brilliant idea. At first glance logical to rescue one of their own from the clutches of the misguided humans. But if Goliath had come along, they really would have had the whole world against them. He should have considered that. No gargoyle will be left behind - Correct and always true. But not leading all those left behind to the slaughter at the same time - that was also important. Goliath had known that.

"Every slain gargoyle is one too much," he muttered.

"Is this about Dante?"

Brooklyn made a sound of agreement without turning his head. He had heard Broadway before his words as he stepped through the open patio door. All gargoyles could be quiet when they wanted to but Broadway was rarely quiet when he felt safe. The clicking of his claws on the stone floor, the rustling of wings, the rubbing of leathery skin on equally leathery skin or on his loincloth, his breathing. Silent treading was for missions, for tasks outside the castle, for investigations, the kind Broadway, with his penchant for detective work, still loved. Why shouldn't he love that anymore, too, a voice in his head scolded him. HE hadn't been away for forty years. Even how his turquoise brother had stood in the dark for a few moments in the room behind them, contemplating whether and how to approach Brooklyn, even that the former timedancer with senses inevitably sharpened to eavesdropping had noticed. The need, the longing to talk to him but not knowing exactly how to approach him now -interpersonal- that was a repeating pattern with almost all the Gargoyles of his clan who had not been time-traveling with him. He did not blame any of them. He would feel the same way. They didn't always show these underlying insecurities. Sometimes they forgot he wasn't twenty-year-old Brooklyn the way he forgot he wasn't the same and caught himself saying something he would have blurted out just the same as a teenager. A glib comment, a snarky remark that made the others laugh or shoot back. No sense of status from either side, no restrictive age boundaries. But these moments were too rare. Probably because of him, because he was often more serious than he wanted to be but thought he had to be. Even Katana said he should loosen up. His Japanese-born Bushido warrior found HIM- the Scottish-born medieval gajin too serious!

His brother sat down next to him on the balcony parapet, a cardboard cup carrier with a coffee shop logo in its clutches.

"Want one?" asked Broadway amiably - always striving for gentleness and harmony. Unless someone pushed too many buttons like Dante. Inquiringly, Brooklyn raised an eyebrow, and as before - as if nothing had changed - the latent imaginary wire that had always existed between the members of the trio began to vibrate. To call this connection telepathic would be absolute label fraud and totally exaggerated. But sometimes Brooklyn had gotten that impression. As he was doing now. Broadway understood him without words.

"I've seen Luca bring Dante and Grace their coffees from this store all week. Or cappuccinos or whatever. I asked him to bring us some sometime, too."

"I see," Brooklyn said, not actually understanding. There was no coffee maker in the clan kitchen but there was one in Xanatos` private kitchen, which they were allowed to use deep in the night if they didn't make a mess and put everything back where it had been so the day-chefs wouldn't wonder.

"Hudson went with regular coffee with almond milk and brown sugar. Lex took the cappuccino with chocolate and cinnamon."

"You would have liked that one, huh?" teased Brooklyn, and Broadway, of course, understood the innuendo and chortled softly and cheerfully.

"I wasn't arguing with him. Just the fact that Lex drinks anything other than water and energy drinks made me wonder. I've got another one here with ginger and pepper and a cream-topped thing called a Pharisee-whatever that is. Which one do you want?"

Brooklyn smiled at his brother and wondered if he should enlighten him as to what a Pharisee was. But Broadway in this time plane was still learning to read and couldn't know all the words yet. But he didn't want to put on the smart big brother act.

"So...," he muttered though not at all wild about coffee but grateful that Broadway was trying, "pepper in coffee sounds too exotic to me. I'd go with the Pharisee," he said, feeling as if the coffee had been named after himself. Immediately after, he scolded himself again inside for being depressed by a damn coffee name.

Broadway handed him the cup and Brooklyn realized he could drink the beverage immediately. Warm - no longer hot. He sipped it and, like Broadway over his peppery coffee, gave off a satisfied approving hum. Tones that sounded so much like being brothers themselves. Brooklyn grinned and Broadway returned the grin, letting it widen even more as now even he struck the not-quite-telepathic chord with a claw suggesting a circular motion around his mouth and Brooklyn wiped off the frothy beard at the front of his beak in response.

"You try drinking foam-stuff with a beak," he said, however, not maliciously but rather with affection.

For a few moments the two brothers sat on the parapet, legs dangling as before his time travel.

Then Broadway broke the deceptive silence and Brooklyn didn't hold the slightest grudge because he would have done it himself if his brother hadn't beaten him to it. He needed to talk to someone.

"Case file Dante," Broadway said.

"Yeah. That went south," Brooklyn agreed.

"Lex can still track him."

"If we're overprotective now he's just going to snap back and keep retreating."

"He's the one who can't be trusted, isn't he? Why should we be considerate of his feelings and self-determination if he doesn't?"

"Is this about him hitting on Angela?" asked Brooklyn, and Broadway must have known he was going to ask that, because he showed relative eloquence when he answered.

"It's not just about that. Unlike Grace, who is really working her tail off to behave better and fit in after the bone-crushing disaster with Angela, he stepped from one pothole to another. Apart from the fact that he is probably a murderer of human beings, this guy is a catastrophe in his social competence. But I never had the fear that Angela would be interested in Dante. After all ... she chose me over you," he concluded with a mocking sideways glance at Brooklyn. The latter raised his free hand to his ribs.

"Ouch - that hurts, bro."

"Had to be done."

"Angela and I were never right for each other," Brooklyn admitted quietly. "She's beautiful and nice but I realized over the years that I needed a partner who was my match. Decisive where I hesitate. Thoughtful where I want to charge."

"Your yin for your yang?"

Brooklyn laid his head back with a smile, languishing as he so often did when thinking of his mate. The air had cleared nicely after the rain, the waning moon a broad crescent that kept peeking out from behind the clouds moving briskly across the sky, then disappearing again.

"And what else is going on in your head?" poked Broadway further but both brothers turned as the third of the trio (as if lured by the string they had both sounded earlier) came through the patio door. A wide-awake kicking Alex sat in his neck and just tugged at his-.

Both brothers laughed out loud while Lexington looked rather suffering while Titania's grandson jerked his new brown hair that fell in smooth shiny cascades down to his butt so hard that his head jerked to the side several times.

"I love that new trick Puck showed him!" admitted Broadway.

"I hate it," Lex declared, setting the kid down on the floor. As soon as Alexander lost proximity to his head, the hair in Lexington's scalp began to recede until only the smooth bald plate was visible again. Their web-wing brother ran his hand over his skull, sighing in relief.

"And I thought hairy and fluffy would be your thing," Brooklyn said in his deep voice but with youthful impish tone, and Lex grinned broadly and raised an index finger.

"On others, yes. But never on me. It just doesn't feel ... like myself." He looked with fond eyes to the ground where the little quarter-Fey just stood up awkwardly only to wrap himself in his flying skins with a child's laughter.

"If Puck teaches him to painlessly integrate technology into a body. I'd be all over that."

Unnoticed by the others, Brooklyn's semi-relaxed mood instantly faded. Lex had merely babbled on about the implanted technology. He knew it. But those words painfully reminded Brooklyn of the one version of the future he had seen, and the Puck-created vision of terror that Goliath had told him about (the one story no one but Brooklyn had heard). Goliath had shared it with him not only because he was the Second but because it took more than two eyes to look for vague diffuse signs of that highly unlikely but not impossible future. The question had arisen whether Puck had simply hit the mark extremely well or how knowledgeable or perhaps involved the Fey was in bringing about or preventing this horror vision or version of the future. But even if Puck knew something, even if he could help to prevent the worst - he was bound by Oberon's law. Sometimes it seemed that the children of Oberon didn't care about the rules imposed on them, bending them according to their will or dancing around them skillfully - on other occasions they seemed to be chained. Like time travel, Puck was a topic too complex, wicked and intricate to be penetrated by normal thought patterns. He wouldn't help, and even if he could, mere mortals would hardly understand his moves - that's why he was a Trickster. Again, one thing Brooklyn felt helpless - drowning. They would get nothing out of Puck restrictive Owen, whether it had been just a vision or one of the more absurd but possible time levels. Two scenarios that didn't differ much at all on this particular point - Lexington mutilated and in a morbid way his own creation. Lexington insane, a danger to himself, others and the whole world. To get rid of these images in his mind, he cleared his throat noisily and said:

"But that hair thing was just to tease you and that Alex wasn't just messing with Pucks and Fox's hair. It's a phase and it will pass. "

"I hope so," Lex muttered.

"You better help me against P.I. Broadway. He's poking around in my head."

Broadway puffed out his chest. "It's a gift to me, a curse to the others. So ... what else drives you to solitude here? Other than the dilemma with Dante, which nobody can do anything about right now anyway.

Brooklyn sipped his lukewarm Pharisee.

"I'm probably just irritated that my prodigy is already sitting in the library studying again."

" Case file Nashville' - it's a classic," Broadway said, sliding to the side so Lex could climb between them. Alexander he had safely held hostage with his tail that he didn't crawl away. Or was it Alex who was holding Lexington's twitching tail hostage?

"Just be glad Gnash is having a docile phase right now," his green brother commented.

"Lex, I don't want to take your smart-ass job away from you but when we someday have more hatchlings in the clan you'll remember that the brood NEVER goes into a more docile phase. The phases change but they are all bad in their own way. Something he is hiding from me. From us."

"What makes you think that?" asked Lex.

"Right. The P.I. in me wants to hear your circumstantial evidence for your theory."

"First of all, P.I. Broadway and Sherlock Lexington - he's enlightened us that he doesn't want to be called Gnash anymore. Nashville or Nash. Gnash would be silly and childish."

"It wasn't though?" the web-wing asked, digging his claws convulsively into the stone balustrade because Alex was just trying to drag him by the tail toward the door with all his one-year-old strength.

"WHO told Nashville that Gnash was stupid?"

"You should give your son more credit for thinking for himself," groaned the former rockery trainee where Broadway just nodded.

"I do ... I'm just ... suspicious."

Brooklyn's face contorted at this truth. A father shouldn't be suspicious of his child per se. That didn't indicate a healthy, trusting relationship. It didn't indicate relationships like members in a gargoyle clan should have.

Whereby ... he did not really have a healthy relationship with the child.

He sighed louder and more complaining than a Second should in front of normal clan members, but he couldn't help it. And miraculously he was rewarded for showing his weakness. By the fact that his brothers seemed to understand him.

"In the Middle Ages, it was quite normal for the older clan members, the Second or the Leader, to have been snapped at us," Lexington muttered, but his eyes told Brooklyn that he was quite unhappy with his Seconds behavior (and probably with his own helpless inaction that night). Broadway nodded thoughtfully.

"You're right to be scared for him. But ... he can certainly defend himself against normal people. And he's never out there alone. And in patrols, we've all seen that he's very good at sneaking and hiding. So... maybe your concern is... a little ... exaggerated."

Broadway's ears lowered as Brooklyn looked at him seriously.

"You're his father. Sorry," the massive gargoyle muttered, sipping his drink.

Brooklyn sighed again and hung his head.

"We're not in the Middle Ages anymore. And I'm mostly an idiot," he managed to bring to his lips and he felt the stares of his two brothers on him for admitting what they probably thought he was in regards to his behavior towards Nashville.

"Or is something happening to Nashville in the future?" asked Lexington, his voice wispy with quiet terror at the thought. Brooklyn shook his head.

"I don't know how long he lived in the future we saw. That information was not accessible to me in the databases of the Gargoyle Na-.

He fell silent and forced himself to swallow the rest. He almost said that in the future he had seen there had been a united, recognized, and well-structured Gargoyle Nation. And he really didn't want to get into that brainfuck right now.

"An old ... an elderly gargoyle who still knew him said he had a mate and had lots of offspring. But he was almost two hundred years old and totally senile - he talked about six or seven hatchlings."

Brooklyn puffed softly and grinned at this craziness. Gargoyle females never laid more than three eggs in their lives. That was the problem with their species, after all.

Where Broadway eyed him curiously, Lexington nodded understandingly.

"No matter what you've seen or been told, just the fact that we're sitting here could change that future. So there's no point in telling us anything. Was careless of me to ask. Do you have any other clues as to why you think Nashville is hiding something from us?"

"The second thing that puzzles me is that he prefers to learn, withdraw from everyone, or even refuse patrols offered to him. That's out of the ordinary."

"Well. Goliath had The Talk with Nash, and Nash did say where that comes from, didn't he?"

"Yes. That's what he said."

Broadway rubbed his brow with a grin. "Please tell me you're not worried when your son is already starting to think about girls. You crashed into a tree once when you were twenty, when the older sister with the mohawk and that short skirt flew in front of you. I didn't buy the bad wind story when you were a kid, and now Nash is just an early bloomer like you were."

"I know I'm not being fair to him. That I'm being too strict, setting too many boundaries for him and questioning him too much. But ...

" -you have dragged him behind you for twenty years. And the thought of having to let him go little by little scares you," Lexington stated, and Brooklyn was both embarrassed and relieved as he nodded. Broadway gently nudged Brooklyn with his tail as if to shake him awake.

"We're protecting him from the harmful criminals and from the Quarrymen, brother. You know that. We all protect each other."

The former Timedancer smiled half-heartedly at his brothers, himself jerking back minimally because Alex was now tugging on his wing.

"It's not just the Quarrymen, after all. Anyone can be a mortal danger to him," he said, leaning to the side and reaching for their former enemy's son. Lexington loosened the grip of his tail around the child's waist but didn't quite let go as her Second bounced the human child on his lap while facing a chasm hundreds of feet deep. Everyone agreed that Alex was too comfortable at too great a height. Perhaps it was due to the many uncles and aunts whose very own element was the air.

"I wish Nash was that small again. He could cling to me or Katana for nights on end. And now ... he reminds me so much of us. Of me. So hungry for the world outside the caves and castle walls. But it was different with us. We had each other in the dark ages. Even when we faced the dragon and almost kicked the bucket, we had each other. And in the new age, no one knew about us and we literally flew under the human radar. Now it's so much more dangerous for Nash."

Broadway patted him affectionately on the shoulder with his bear paw.

"He's not stupid. He's bickering. He sulks. But he'll realize you're giving him boundaries to protect him. Let him withdraw and come back to you on his own. What else are you going to do? Tap into Xanatos' surveillance cameras and monitor him?"

Brooklyn pondered for a moment. He didn't find the idea so repulsive though, of course, it was just that. Meanwhile, Alex had caused Lexington's tail, which gripped him protectively as if by rookery keeper reflex, to grow a hairy, brown pony tail at the end, and sighing, he wagged it in front of the child, who squealed and wriggled excitedly at it.

"Brooklyn. Want my opinion?"

"Sure, Brown Beauty."

"Lol. You can't currently give Nashville the freedom he's hoping for. But you can keep offering him what you can whether it's patrols with us or a listening ear. Be there, listen to him. Without ... raising your voice or snarling at him. I know that's a job that all elders used to share. But Nashville can't adjust his view of the rest of us to see us all as equal replacements for you and Katana. That's just not how his life has been so far, and you can't ask him to see you as a leader first and his dad second from one month to the next."

"He has to see me as both - that's the only way the clan works."

"Clan relationships change. They can - perhaps must - gradually become more liberal. A new e-equality between all clan members," Broadway said, rising somewhat awkwardly, turning and hopping off the battlement onto the patio. Brooklyn passed Alex to Broadway, who gave the kid his broadest monstrous smile and was rewarded by the magical child by growing him a full blond beard to tug at. Now Lex and Brooklyn were laughing because their brother suddenly looked a lot like Hudson. Broadway went inside to take Alex to Fox in the nursery. Brooklyn sighed a little lighter around the heart (just a little). It did him so much good to talk to his brothers and not feel like the bad guy. To not feel the way he often did with Nash.

He didn't know how to manage the balancing act between father and second or clan leader in regard to Nashville. And that wasn't even his only work in progress. It would take him years to gently break it to Lex and Broadway that he was first and foremost Second and then their brother. He didn't like it himself. But their conversation tonight - their casual interactions - created a sense of relief and elation in him that almost made him forget the worry about the future.

Together with Lexington who had switched back to quadrupedal gait as he spoke, he went back inside. .

"We're going on a longer patrol tonight, Goliath says. To keep an eye out for Dante. No interfering. Just ... keep an eye out for anything unusual."

"Sounds good to me. I seriously hope he doesn't leave a trail of blood through Manhattan."

"His body or his actions?

"Neither. I hope he keeps a low profile."

"I'm sure he will," said Lex - their smart, sweet, optimistic Lexington of this time and reality.

.

.

In Xanato's office, the richest man in America just turned off the main screen of his surveillance equipment, leaned back in his chair, and looked out over the city that was largely his without many others knowing.

"How do we proceed with the Italians now, sir?" He heard Owen ask from the dim darkness behind him. His most loyal employee until death sounded as disinterested and neutral as ever. But just that he asked was a crack in the facade.

"For Dante leaving the castle thanks to the other gargoyles, you still seem a little tense. Well ... more tense than usual," Xanatos stated without taking his eyes off the bewitching view.

"The threat was and is potential. But it's nothing Puck couldn't handle. Still, I think it's reasonable to work toward removing the Italians. Not just Dante."

Xanatos tugged thoughtfully at his accurately trimmed goatee.

"Quite so. None of them form bonds in the clan. They are not and will not be vital, neuralgic points in this structure," Xanatos murmured, turning in his swivel chair until he could see Owen.

"Forgettable. But still ... my new philosophy is that it would be a shame for any lost Gargoyle. And they're too interesting not to be presented with other options. But there are more pressing problems. The Illuminati are sponsoring Castaway. And I know he's gathering what would be, for ordinary people, a large amount of money to get new equipment."

"Nothing that could be bought could override our defenses," Owen said, talking about engineering and magical defenses at the same time.

"I wonder what they have against the Gargoyles. After all, they're hardly a national threat to their current ventures," Xanatos speculated thoughtfully, then waved it off. "Not that I would venture to guess what their future plans might be."

"The Illuminati do not think in years, but in centuries, Sir. I doubt it will make a tremendous difference to them whether the Gargoyle race disappears from the scene immediately or later."

"True. Otherwise they would have already instructed me to order them out of the castle, to deny them protection. At least this way they can be sure to know the whole flock is in one place. Right? That's what Puck called them. My little gargoyle flock." He flashed Owen a smug grin.

Owen exhaled in a huff. Almost a sigh but it wasn't one, of course, because Owen Burnett never sighed sorrowfully.

"Sticking with the terminus, Mister Xanatos. What are your plans for the runaway black sheep? Or for the straying little lamb?"

Xanatos laughed softly, and Owen didn't miss the audible affection in that laugh. "Nashville manages to disappear under the butts of a gargoyle clan every other night. I would regret having to curtail his young adventurous spirit. But ... just in case ... take action. Unobtrusively."

"As you wish. And Dante?"

"I don't want him in the castle permanently anymore."

"He'll cause problems out there."

"Did you commit yourself to me or to the citizens, Owen?"

"You know the answer."

"Whatever havoc he wreaks could damage the clan's standing. Send a cleanup team after him."

"I'll have him tracked via the phone he carries."

"Excellent. And in general ... we initiate measures to remove Grace and Mister De Santis as well. We need to find deployment opportunities for all three of them where they can contribute and at the same time separate them from our herd. I and my wife are the only foxes who are allowed to spin their intrigues here." A sly mirthful grin stole onto his face as he leaned forward, elbows propped on the edge of the table, fingers tucked under his chin, and glared at Owen.

"What was that about the Tiffany incident?"

Xanatos didn't hear Puck chuckling deep in Owen Burnett's cerebral convolutions.

Even though it's mostly about Nashville and Graziella, I thought it would be good to give a glimpse of Brooklyn again and show how he interacts with his brothers.

Thanks for reading, Q.T.