"Because the Narn homeworld is now a protectorate of the Centauri Republic," Londo Mollardi gestured, a look of contempt on his pale face. "We reserve the right to say who can speak for Narn. As a result, Ambassador G'kar may no longer represent the Narn in any official capacity whatsoever! His appointment as Ambassador to Babylon 5 is hereby withdrawn."

G'kar sat quietly in his chair, red eyes fixed upon the floor. Londo continued to speak, with increasing fury and fervor, a sneer coloring his features. "And as the only member of the… 'Kha'Ri' still at large, Citizen G'kar," He spat, "Will return to Narn for trial."

Around Elisa's living room, the gargoyles expressed their shock and outrage. "He can't do that!" Lexington exclaimed. Hudson growled, "Traitorous bastard!" Broadway put a finger to his lips and shushed them.

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Captain John Sheridan stood, defiant confidence in his voice.

"YEAAHH!" Brooklyn put his fists up in the air. "You tell 'em, Sheridan!" He whooped. Broadway shushed his brother louder this time. "Quiet!"

"Prior to this meeting, Ambassador G'kar asked for sanctuary on Babylon 5." Sheridan said coolly. Londo squinted in confusion, not understanding this sudden change of events. Sheridan continued. "And as it was within my providence to make such decisions, I agreed."

Londo's voice was quiet, earnest. But did little to hide his fury. "Surrender by all members of the Kha'Ri is stipulated in the Narn-Centauri Agreeme–"

"Well, I'm sure it is, but I didn't sign that agreement, Ambassador!" Sheridan retorted. "Neither did Earth!"

Beside Sheridan, Ambassador Delenn rose from her chair, chin high and eyes hard. "As co-sponsor of Babylon 5, the Minbari Government supports this decision. The neutrality of this station applies even to the wishes of the Centauri. Citizen G'kar may remain here for as long as he chooses."

Elisa smiled, nose crinkling. No matter how many times she saw Delenn on-screen, it still made her feel a bit of pride to see this faithful and fearless head of state, fighting battles for her allies on the Council Chamber floor.

Goliath watched these proceedings intently, arms folded over his chest as he stood near the couch. Ordinarily, he did not approve of television. He thought it dull and uninformative. But throughout the series, he had come to identify with Ambassador G'kar, and his struggle for his people. Between this and Star Trek, they were the only TV series he actually watched with his rookery-sons.

Londo looked around the room, quickly seeing his position weakening. Sheridan pressed on. "Face reality, Ambassador Mollari. If your government is serious about all these rules, you're going to need someone here that the other Narn will recognize as credible."

Londo's voice was measured, restrained. But slowly, it rose in volume and fury. "Very well. If this is your decision?" He tsked. "Then I cannot stop you. Nevertheless! At this moment, G'kar is no longer an official representative of Narn! And must be removed from this council!"

Sheridan raised his voice. "We will wait unti–"

"NOW!" Londo roared.

A moment of long, uncomfortable silence hung over the Council Chambers. The soundtrack began to rise with the soft, soulful keening of a string orchestra. Slowly, G'kar rose from his chair. He took a few steps forward, not meeting Londo's eyes. But he looked out at the other aliens ambassadors, his colleagues, in the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. And then he–

The VHS sputtered and the TV froze, static snow suddenly filling the screen. Everyone in Elisa's living room cried out their shock, disbelief and frustration. "Awww!"

"I don't believe it!" Lexington moaned. He poked a claw into the VHS slot, gently pulling out the bootleg cassette and a long roll of black film. "The player ate the tape!"

"Nooo!" Broadway groaned, putting his hands over his finned ears. "It was getting so good!"

Brooklyn shook his head, a snarl like an angry dog in his throat. "Dammit! We're never going to finish this season! We can't skip ahead, there's only one tape left before the finale!"

Elisa raised her hands. "Relax, guys. I'll just take this to the video store tomorrow, ask them if they can fix it, and then we'll try and watch it again later tomorrow night."

"Man, this sucks." Brooklyn harrumphed.

Goliath did a double take at the word. "Sucks?" He repeated, incredulous. "Brooklyn, where have you been learning to use words like that?"

Brooklyn looked sheepish. "Uhh… around."

"It's probably just as well that the VHS crapped out, guys." Elisa said sadly. "I have to head in to my shift. Even if that Blockbuster case got dismissed, I still have other cases to handle."

"Do you need help?" Lex's huge eyes were narrow as he looked up at her. He looked worried.

Elisa patted Lexington's head. "That's sweet of you, really. And I wish I could let you come with me, but it's just too dangerous. Both for me, and for you. Just enjoy the night, guys. If anything, you could finish the second season of The Next Generation without me. I've seen it at least five times."

Broadway's ears drooped forlornly. "But we wanted to see it with you." He said. "It's not as much fun watching without you."

Hudson slowly pulled himself out of the armchair with a yawn, very carefully stretching his wings so as not to knock anything over. He caped them and spoke. "As much as I enjoy watching stories with ye, lads, I think I'll be going back to the castle. There's another rerun of Celebrity Hockey on tonight, and I think I'll be catching up on what I missed during the day. These film boxes will always be here."

Broadway grumbled. "Oh, alright. I guess we'll go with you."

"Now hold on a second!" Brooklyn spoke up. "The night's still young, and the wind is high tonight! It's a great night for flying, and I don't wanna waste it."

Goliath smiled. "Then, if you're so eager, perhaps we may spend some time on Long Island, and see the greenery. It would be a valuable exercise of your ability to navigate near the ground, and improvise means to return to the air without buildings to climb." He leaned forward. "To avoid a repeat of the disastrous events of your maiden flight in this city."

The Trio groaned their protest. None of them liked training exercises with Goliath. Goliath raised his head, chin high. "That was not a request. We shall meet at the easternmost point of the island within one hour. Bring nothing with you. If I see any 'walk-mans' or toys, they shall be cast into the sea. Is that clear?"

They grumbled their ascent, and made their way to the balcony to leave. Elisa arched one eyebrow and shook her head. Goliath was hard on them. But he had to be. She didn't blame him for that. She started strapping on her gun, clipping her badge to her belt. She felt a heavy, four-fingered hand on her shoulder. "Elisa?" Brooklyn spoke.

She turned. "Yeah, what is it?"

"There's something I feel like I need to tell you about. I'm not sure who else I can say it to, but it's important. It has to do with Xanatos."

Elisa paused. She folded her arms, indicating that she was listening. Brooklyn continued.

He explained that the other night, he had been in the castle with Broadway and Bronx eating lunch and goofing around, playing tag in the air above the tower. They'd gotten tired, and landed when the wind started gusting and getting unpredictable. It had been on a whim, but he and Bronx had gone down one floor to Xanatos' office.

"I knew I shouldn't have, but I just wanted to see what it was like down there. I was curious. I got partway down, and I smelled something odd."

"You smelled something?"

Brooklyn tapped his beak. "We all got our talents. My sense of smell is a lot better than the others'. Sometimes it plays tricks on me, so I was going to just ignore it until Bronx reacted to it too. Something was up, so we hid."

"What happened?" Elisa asked, curious.

"Xanatos had a visitor." He said. "A few visitors, actually. A human, dressed in black. He had two guards with him. I couldn't get a good look, but they smelled familiar. The same way that Raphael did, in a way. I couldn't put my talon on it, but I don't think they were human."

Elisa was troubled by this. "The turtle monster that you fought on the bridge?"

"Almost like him, but not quite." Brooklyn gestured with his hands for her to slow down, make no immediate assumptions. "They smelled more… I dunno, steel-y. Less swamp-y."

"Did you hear any names?"

"Yeah. Oroku. But that's it. Just 'Mr. Oroku'. Guy gave me the creeps."

"It's a name. I'll check the police records, see what we have on anyone named 'Oroku'. Enjoy your training night, guys."

She turned to leave, and Brooklyn spoke up again. "There was something else that I smelled. I'm pretty sure that I imagined it. Like I said, sometimes I don't always get details right, and things can end up getting a little muddled. So, don't tell Goliath or the others about this."

Elisa turned, giving him a funny look. "Tell them about what? What else did you smell?"

"Someone that I'm really, really sure died a long time ago." He said grimly. "But if you see anything in the police files that sounds like another gargoyle, tell us. Okay?"

Odd request. But then again, Brooklyn's an odd guy. She reasoned. I'm sure he has his own reasons for asking. Still, a tip is a tip. If someone like Xanatos has his hands in anything related to the O'Neil sewer monster thing, then it's gotta be bad news.

"I'll look into it, Brooklyn. I promise." She said. "Fly safe, alright?"

Later that night, Elisa waded through aisles upon isles of boxes in the records room, a card from a rolodex in her hand. The lightbulb above had burned out long ago, and all of the oldest records had already moved upstairs into the old clock tower.

She buried her nose into her elbow and sneezed four times when she moved a box and a plume of dust came up, dancing like sprites in the beam of her flashlight. She checked the dates scribbled onto the box in Sharpie, comparing it to the card. Popping the top off the cardboard lid, she walked her fingers through the files.

She lifted one out. October, 1986. She sat cross-legged on the ground, and skimmed through it. There it was, just like the computer said. Oroku, Saki. DOB 01/29/1952. Second Degree Murder, First Degree Assault and Battery, Assault with a Deadly Weapon.

She read through his profile. The murder charge had been declared a mistrial on account of a hung jury. There had never been enough evidence to reopen the case. He had done some brief jail time for the many assault charges, but there was little else in his file.

She squinted at a footnote. "Suspected Yakuza?" She muttered. That was odd. The Yakuza had never had a significant presence in New York, not the way they did in LA or San Francisco. Here, the major Asian gangs were the Triad, a few large players, and numerous small-time stragglers.

She looked carefully at the mugshot. He was a handsome man with clean shaven cheeks, clear skin, and a traditional top knot. He had sharp cheekbones and a hawkish look to him. Her face darkened as she studied his eyes.

"You definitely have a killer's look." She said quietly. They were haunting, dark pits. There was an all-consuming void where the windows to the man's soul ought to have been. Even the picture was enough to make the small hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

She took the folder, photocopied it, and then returned the original to the records room. Copies in hand, she returned to her desk to see if she could find anything more recent. It was a short few flips through a few different phone books before she could confidently say that whoever Saki Oroku was, he didn't have a listed phone number or address.

On a whim, she searched his name through Yahoo. She blinked in surprise as she scrolled down a small article in a business blog talking about the most profitable scientific companies of 1999. "Well, hello Mr. Oroku." She muttered under her breath.

He had aged, certainly, but not much. Probably the most stark change from his mugshot had been the presence of a long, ugly scar that blinded his left eye. But it was definitely him. And he was shaking hands with none other than David Xanatos.

She printed the web page, tucking it into the folder she had on hand. It wasn't a lot, but it was something. It definitely confirmed what Brooklyn had told her. But what was Xanatos doing with a suspected Yakuza member? And what in the world did it have to do with the turtle monsters and O'Neil?

Worrying questions that were building nothing but a foggy picture to her. The Blockbuster case had to have been tied to it all somehow. Even dismissed, there was still plenty of evidence in her eyes that a serious crime had taken place. But to any judge in New York, the evidence she had was, functionally, non-existent. It wasn't like she could ask Brooklyn or the girl to take the witness stand, not without answering some extremely inconvenient questions.

She just had to find the culprits, and implicate them without implicating Goliath and his clan. A hard job. Probably the hardest case she'd taken. But someone had to do it.

At the end of her shift at 8 AM, she had a short chat with Matt, and then decided that she was going to try and visit Derek again, one more time.

She parked at his apartment complex, announced herself to the doorman, and made her way to his place. She knocked on the pale white door, shifting uncomfortably on the balding doormat as she waited for a response.

There was no answer to her knock. But she heard Cagney meow and scratch at the door.

She knocked again. "Derek? It's Elisa." She called. "Look, I wanted to apologize for what I said the other day. I talked with Mom, and… well, she's right. You don't have to be a cop, and you do have to lead your own life. Can you open the door? I promise, I'm not here to lecture you."

There was still no answer, except for Cagney yowling and digging his claws into the wood. Elisa frowned. Derek's landlord was a stuck-up jerk who hated animals, and he'd made a point of keeping Cagney a secret from him. There was no way that he'd just let Cagney scratch at the door like this. He would have scooped him up and scolded him by now.

Something was wrong.

She fished out her keys, flipping through them until she found the key to Derek's apartment. She unlocked the door, and was stopped by the chain. A cold breeze blew through the gap. That surprised her. Derek only kept the chain up on the door at night, when he was at home asleep. It was almost 9 in the morning. He got up early to go to the gym, he would have been awake by now.

She reached into her pocket and unfolded her pocket knife. It took a little jimmying, but she slid the chain out of its slot and opened the door. She gasped when she saw his place.

It was absolutely trashed. The window was shattered, glass littering the floor of the living room. On the counter, the jar of pickled jalapenos had spilled across the floor.

She shook her head, shock seeping into her muscles. "Derek?!" She called. "Derek, where are you?!"

She rounded the corner, frantically scanning the kitchen. A half-made sandwich, half-eaten with tiny cat bites and covered in houseflies, rotted on the counter next to the jars of open peanut butter and jelly. Derek's car keys were still in the candy dish on the counter. Cagney's food and water dish were both empty.

Cagney practically leapt into her arms, meowing pitiably as he burrowed into her jacket. Her jaw hung agape. She rushed through each room, careful not to touch anything.

She checked the bathroom. Everything was still there. No sign of a struggle. The tub was dry, no evidence of having been used recently. The litterbox beside the toilet was overflowing.

She checked his bedroom next, Cagney clutched in her arms. His room was a mess, but his room had always been messy. Nothing seemed out of place here. His closet was open, so she peeked inside of it. All of his stuff was still here, not even the gun safe next to the shoe rack had been touched. But Derek was gone.

She set the cat down on the bed and went back to the living room, boots crunching across broken glass. She looked down at the phone. 8 New Messages on his answering machine, and the last one was hers.

She was about to pick it up to make a call, when she spied a pad of sticky notes. She squinted at it, studying it carefully. Derek always wrote with a heavy hand. He was such a cheapskate that his pens were usually dried out. She turned on the desk lamp and tilted her head to get a look at the paper. Sure enough, the notepad had the last thing Derek wrote on it engraved deep into the pad of paper.

Job Interview, 11 AM 09/28 Eyrie Building, 140th Floor

Bring flight creds – Dry clean suit – ask for Owen B desk

Her heart pounded in her chest, fear making her pulse drum against her ears. She picked up the phone, and dialed three keys.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"This is Detective Elisa Maza, 23 Precinct. My badge number is 16123. I'm at my brother's apartment, at 772 Madison St. I think he's been abducted."