"I think I see him!" The little one called. "Straight ahead, above the tower!"

The largest flew straight ahead, his longer and stronger wings curled and pulled taut against the wind. The upwash from his wings was more than enough to keep his little brother aloft, their practiced formation negating his much smaller wingspan's limits. He squinted into the night, trying to see what his younger brother saw.

"Man, I wish I had eyes like yours." He grumbled.

"Hawks wish they had eyes like mine." The small one replied. "I wish I had wings like yours. There's no way I'd make it this far without help. I'm too… well, tiny."

"Hey!" The older one turned his head, earfins fluttering in the harsh breeze. "Be nicer to yourself. I don't wanna hear you beat yourself up like that."

The admonishment was a drop of fuel in the smaller gargoyle's dry emotional wellspring, a source of inner strength that had rapidly diminished throughout the night's failures. Having his brother at his side again slowly refilled his soul, making him feel whole again. But he was still far from alright. He pursed his lips. "I guess you're right."

The older one smirked. "Nobody bullies my brother, especially not himself. Besides…" He turned his tail slightly, adjusting to a bit of turbulence that rippled the membranes of his wings. "... I was scared of being alone. I don't ever want to be by myself like that again. I'm just glad I found you again."

The small one kept his gaze forward, providing more directions as they got closer to the bridge. One thought, buried in the warmth and joy of their reunion, still nagged at him. He said he saw him wave to him in the alley, and he followed him. But he hadn't even been on that street.

He had to wonder if it was a miracle, or some kind of magic. Or maybe, some other force was at play. But he couldn't focus on that right now. They had to find their brother, and they had to get home before sunrise. Nothing else mattered.

Hudson squatted next to the tall flagpole, elbows on his knees as he peered toward the city skyline. His back facing the great towers of Manhattan as he looked out over this crowded spit of land, he had to be far choosier with his perches from here on out. Climbing glass, he could do. Doing it without leaving a very obvious and expensive trail for human pursuers to follow, however, was outside his abilities. Unfortunately for him, the van that had carried the four creatures had parked somewhere in the dense stone jungle that made up the head of this long island.

Hudson's one good eye struggled with the night, but he still had better eyesight than any human could ever hope for. He'd managed to follow them, with great difficulty, navigating the fine balancing act between managing his altitude and keeping his bearings. A younger or less experienced gargoyle would have quickly lost them. But the balance was a reflex to him, one that he hoped he could one day instill in his rookery-sons.

He had spied their van turning off into the thicket of brick cliffs below the foot of the bridge road, where they'd vanished from view. That was five minutes ago. He sighed, and resigned himself to a decision; he was going to have to follow on foot. He reached into his belt and removed the one tool he had yet to use, opening his wings and gliding down.

Swooping beneath the underpass, he buried his claws into concrete and slipped on the brown hood. He waited patiently for a break in the traffic. Then, releasing his grip and landing heavily in the gravel below, he caped his wings and dusted himself off. If he kept to the shadows, he would–with any luck–only look like a human wearing a heavy cloak at a glance.

Hudson got his bearings, and set off into Dumbo. It didn't take him nearly as long as he thought, his darting from shadow to shadow notwithstanding. Traveling stealthily was always slower, but he was light on his feet for an old man. He lowered his head, keeping his hands under his caped wings so his claws would remain out of sight.

He carefully kept his eye and ears peeled for any sight or sound as he made his way through the street. He spied a human couple, holding hands and pointing up at the skyline across the river. He paused, stepping into a stoop to avoid being under the streetlight. One of them glanced in his direction, eyes lingering suspiciously for a moment, before passing on their way.

Humans see only what they want to see. As the kids would say, 'Flimsy disguise for the win.' He smiled.

He closed his eyes and honed his focus. With a deep breath in and out, he let his mind clear, filtering out the sounds and smells of the city. Breathing in, slowly, he took in every smell that wafted on the wind. Breathing out, silently, he listened closely for the sounds of five voices.

Hudson opened his eyes, wild with shock, and whirled back around to face the bridge he'd just left. There it was, absolutely unmistakable!

"No!" He rushed to the side of a building, not caring who saw, and he began scaling it to its peak. Brick crumbled in his grip as he scurried up the side of the building, earnest fear fueling his ascent. The couple far below screamed, fleeing as he ascended. He didn't care–couldn't care!

His son was on that bridge. He had to get there now!

He leapt off as soon as he was high enough, wings snapping open. He pumped them hard, feeling the ache of his old bones as they worked the aerial sprint that he knew he was too old to do. His breathing was labored, his blood afire with adrenaline, eyes ablaze with a father's worst fears.

He watched the shape of his son rocket across the top of the tower, striking a black shape atop it. He was too far away to do anything but watch when he saw that telltale flutter; a movement he'd seen and known too well from too many wars.

A flat spin. He was falling.

He panicked, trying to push more speed. Amazingly, his son managed to recover, tilting down in a dive, his shape streaking through the narrow gap between the support cables. He heard the WHAP! of gargoyle wings pushed too far, and the cry that tore his soul. He spiraled down, folding in his wings for a breakneck dive.

The figure who'd hurt him had descended the cable, trailing sparks. Fury burned in his throat as he made his dive.

But by the time he had landed, the figure had disappeared. Hudson braked, pulling up and coasting just far enough to come to a stumbling landing. He rushed to his son's side, claws outstretched to him.

The boy raised a hand. "Easy, easy!" He said, panic in his voice. "I can't handle a tackle right now!"

"YOU'RE GROUNDED!" Hudson thundered.

He cupped one hand over his ear, pressing his head to his shoulder to stifle the shout. "Yeesh, Mentor, I know I'm grounded. I'm not exactly going anywhere with this thing pinning me like a–"

"No," Hudson stormed towards him. "Ye're reckless, irresponsible, childish, self-serving–!"

He felt an arm around him. Hudson stopped, confused.

"Hey." The boy said to his father. "I messed up. We all did. And we're sorry. We won't do it again, just…" He squeezed Hudson tighter, favoring his wounded chest. "...just help me get home. Please."

Hudson sighed. He unfolded his wings, and furled them around his son.

"Oh, lad." He murmured. "Whatever are we going to do with you?"

"Forgive us for wanting to have one night to live again?"

Hudson sighed. "Aye. I could do that."

Hudson looked up at the sky, seeing two shapes approach. He smiled, eye twinkling with gratitude. He lifted a wing and raised an arm, slowly waving both to signal their position. There was a distant whistling in the wind as they both grew louder and closer.

"You're okay!" Brooklyn cried. "I don't believe it! Where in the world were you?" He sniffed, and added. "You smell like you rolled in garbage!"

"Where was I?" The pale blue gargoyle shook his head. "Never mind that, what happened to you?!"

"Well, first of all…" The eldest smiled. "I won a duel. And second of all, I won a name."

"You won a name, lad?" Hudson crossed his arms. "What did your vanquished foe call ye, then?"

He smiled. "Brooklyn. I'm Brooklyn."

"It suits you. It's a fine name, lad." The elder's smile broadened. "Tonight is a night for change, it seems. I've chosen a name."

Brooklyn and the others looked at him in shock. "You?" Brooklyn gaped. "Whatever happened to protecting our traditions, not letting the human world define us?"

Hudson closed his eyes and sighed. "A thousand years asleep is a long time to rethink the value of the past. I am Hudson, after yon river to the West."

The other two looked at each other. They nodded. "We want to choose our own names, too." The small one said.

"Oh?" Hudson asked. "And what do you wish to be called now, lad?"

The small one drew himself up to his full four-foot height. "I'm Lexington, like the avenue!" He exclaimed.

"Broadway!" The last one lifted his chin proudly, spreading his arms wide. "The first place I ever stood alone."

"You sure itisn't some other reason?" Lexington poked his gut.

Broadway swatted his hand away. "Very funny, Lex."

Brooklyn chuckled, and immediately wished he hadn't. He clutched his shoulder, leaving his injured arm slack. Hudson put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go, lads. There's someone I want all of you to meet."

"Who?" Lexington asked, tilting his head.

Hudson's eye twinkled. "The human who helped us to find you. She's waiting for us."

Raphael's back lay against the soft cushion of the van's back seat, and he groaned in pain. "Well." He grunted. "I won a duel."

"'Won'?" Mikey scoffed. "Yeah, like you win food poisoning after a pie-eating contest."

Leo shook his head, finger and thumb massaging his eyes. His blue mask seemed to highlight his exasperated look. "You learn a lesson tonight, Raph?"

"Nope." He replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm absolutely going to walk outta the Lair and pick fights with random monsters every single night from now on. I love this. Pain is my favorite. Yay."

Don, sitting in the front passenger seat, muttered something that rhymed with 'bucking mass and fisk'. Raph glared in his direction, and he looked like he wanted to get up and smack his older brother. But that would involve asking his rib plates to move.

Raph's fingers traced over the gauze that wrapped his plastron, feeling the grooves that were interrupted by a few bumps where Donatello had superglued zip ties to his shell.

"Quit fiddling with your wounds, Raph." April rolled her eyes, swatting his hand. "Or else it's going to heal crooked like the one on your chest."

"Looks like you're going back in the tub, Raph." Leonardo gloated. "Enjoy your two-week bath."

"Hey!" Raph jabbed a finger in his older brother's direction. "I got, like, three days of dry-dock first! And at least I still got both my knees!" He pouted angrily.

At first, no one in the van could process the sound that Leonardo made. They stared, jaws agape, as they heard something they hadn't heard since May.

Leonardo laughed.

April blinked, raising one eyebrow dangerously close to her hairline. "You good, dude?" She asked tentatively.

Leonardo doubled over, gasping for air as he belly-laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the driver's seat. Mikey leaned over to Raph, muttering out of the side of his cheek, "Dude, you broke our bro."

Leo wiped his tears away with the heel of his hand. "Raph?" He snickered. "You're hopeless."

Raphael slow-blinked at his older brother, clearly not processing any of this. Leo shook his head. "Oh, never mind. Splinter texted us while you were up there fighting Batman or whoever. He found Casey. They're waiting for us back at the Lair."

"You're tellin' me that I climbed to the top of the Brooklyn Bridge," Raphael flopped his head back against the armrest. "For nothing?!"

"Yep." Leonardo beamed a shiteating grin.

Raphael took a noisy breath through his nostrils, like a bull in a bullpen. "I'm gonna kill him. I SWEAR to PIZZA SUPREME IN THE SKY. I am GONNA KILL HIM."

Leonardo didn't mean to go over every single bump in the road as they drove back to East Village. But Raphael would swear years later that he went out of his way to hit every single pothole between Dumbo and Soho just to spite him.

Casey and Splinter had gotten home far earlier than they had, and Casey had already gone to sleep. April, who was a frequent guest already, unfolded the spare futon for herself. As each one of them went to bed, one by one falling asleep, Raphael stayed awake. The pain wouldn't quite let him sleep.

He lay on his hammock, which he had made himself long ago, staring up at the ceiling. He watched tiny motes of dust fall as the ceiling trembled subtly. He heard the muffled squeal and rumble of the passing subway, and he sighed. He was happy to be home.

"Metal warriors?" Lexington was awestruck. "And humans with claws like gargoyles?"

Brooklyn whistled, impressed. "And I thought we had a rough night." The dart that had embedded itself in his chest muscle had been removed with Hudson's delicate touch long ago, the wound stopped up with gauze. His arm hung in a sling, protecting his injured pectoral muscle. He was under orders to keep his wings caped until morning, and it was clear he hated it.

Bronx's whole body was curled up in Hudson's lap. He comically had to peer out from around the beast's flank to speak. "Let it be known that it was my idea to aid the false gargoyle!"

Elisa sat cross-legged in the midst of all this, watching them with curious eyes. They were absolutely amazing to her. Alien, powerful, and graceful, but still so human it unnerved her. She looked down at her watch. "My shift ends in about ten minutes. Honestly, I might just crash here for the day. I don't think I trust myself to drive home."

"You mean to sleep in this tower?" Goliath asked.

Elisa looked around at the empty walls of the clock tower, pre-dawn light filtering in through the smoky glass face of the enormous clock. "I mean, I could. I don't know where you guys go during the day, but the sun's coming up soon."

The gargoyles looked amongst each other, and then at Elisa. Uncomfortable looks were etched on all of their faces. Elisa knew that look, on a human or on anything else; it was a look of distrust. She was still an outsider. A foreigner. She had no idea what their hangup around humans was. But it didn't take a detective to deduce that they'd been hurt, badly, and weren't ready to trust again. Maybe they never fully would.

She got up to leave. "I should go." She said, "I… have reports to finish before the end of my shift."

She reached down to open the trap door, when she heard a creak and Hudson grunting with mild discomfort and annoyance. She was startled when she found a wet, sandpapery nose forcing itself up under her elbow. Bronx whined, headbutting her chest. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, bud. But… I don't belong here." She said softly.

Bronx whined, more insistently, pushing her back away from the trap door. He nearly bowled her. Brooklyn chuckled. "Looks like Bronx has taken a shine to you."

Elisa tried to push the dog-beast away. But Bronx promptly shut down any argument by belly flopping on top of her torso and refusing to move. He chuffed, jowls flopping, as he plopped his head onto her shoulder.

Elisa exhaled a long, exasperated groan. "Well, I guess that I'm trapped here. Oh no. The horror."

Lexington laughed, grin spreading across his cheeks. "Come on Bronx, up. Go lay down."

Broadway got up, arching his back and spreading his wings wide as he stretched. He put his arms beneath Bronx's elbows and heaved, picking the massive hound with surprising ease. "C'mon, boy. No."

Bronx squirmed out of Broadway's grip with a bark, and promptly went back over to lie on top of Elisa again. Both Broadway and Hudson got up to try and coax the dog into getting off of her, but Bronx's mind seemed to be made up. Lexington put his shoulder against the dog's flank and tried to push. Brooklyn couldn't do much more than tap his knee and whistle, trying to encourage the beast to stand up. Bronx flatly refused it all, tongue lolling as he panted, blissfully unaware that Elisa's ribcage was in imminent danger. She couldn't help but laugh.

Goliath watched all of this, and he remembered. He remembered a little boy, following him like a little blond shadow, hiding behind corners and tapestries as he walked the castle halls. He remembered the soft smile of his angel of the night, the smell of her red hair and the touch of her wings folded over his. He remembered his siblings, his parents, his children.

His heart ached for all of them. He remembered looking west, out over the sea towards the Hebrides. The way the sea glowed orange and red when he awoke each night before falling into deep midnight, the moon casting diamonds on the waves. Seeing the silhouettes of wings against that sky. Hearing that same laughter.

The priest who had named him spoke of a heaven, where angels flew freely in an realm of endless sunlight. He wondered, for a moment, if the sun felt just as the humans described. What it would feel like to be warmed by its rays upon his wings, to see a world so bright.

He looked at their smiles, their laughter, and he could not help but appreciate that for a brief moment, their grief and sorrow was forgotten. This human had promised to return him to his family, and she had fulfilled it. She had no further need to linger here, and yet she stayed. His sons had no reason to give her trust, and yet here they were. Trusting her.

A friendship with humans. He wondered. The question mulled itself over in his head. He found himself searching his heart, looking for a reason to doubt her. Some clue or evidence that she had wicked intent. But he could find none. The stone wall surrounding his heart eroded, just a little. That modicum of respect had slipped inside. This time, he did not fight it.

The sky was beginning to lighten outside the clock tower. He looked to Hudson, and the elder gave him a solemn nod. Goliath raised his voice. "Come. Dawn is coming."

"Are we staying here?" Lexington asked, looking up at him quizzically.

"I thought we were going back to the castle." Broadway wondered aloud. "Why here?"

"I'm grounded until dawn, guys." Brooklyn's smile was thin and apologetic. "And I don't think I like the idea of lugging Bronx all the way back up to the castle in his condition."

"Okay, I gotta ask." Elisa looked around at them. "What happens at dawn? You've been talking about it all night, but no one's given me an answer. What's going on?"

Goliath smiled. "You'll see." He mounted the steps up to the balcony, to the hatch at the bottom of the clock face. He held open the door, and the others trooped out silently after him. Elisa, curiosity tugging her like a fish hook, towed her along behind them.

They fanned out across the balcony, stepping up onto the railing. Hudson drew his sword, and Lexington rolled his shoulders to stretch himself out. Elisa looked up at Goliath. "What are they doing?"

He looked to the east. The sky was getting lighter. "Trust is not something we give easily. Most especially not to humans. I want you to understand that, Elisa Maza. My people have suffered greatly at the hands of your kind, and we are not likely to give our friendship to you easily."

"I kinda gathered that…" She muttered. "And I get it. Promises are cheap. A good detective trusts no one."

"Something we both have in common." Goliath rumbled. "But tonight, you went above and beyond to help save my sons. I do not know what would have happened to them tonight if fortune had not crossed our paths. I thank you."

"You're welcome." She shrugged. "My job is to protect people. And, well, you're people. It's my duty."

"As it is a gargoyle's nature to protect his castle." Goliath replied. "There is a saying that the Romans oft repeated; qui custodiet ipsos custodes."

" 'Who watches the watchmen?' " Elisa smiled. "A good question. We can't guard against ourselves. We need others to keep a watch on us, too."

Goliath smiled. "I want to ask you a very important favor."

"Name it. You've earned it." Elisa answered.

"Will you be our watcher this day?"

Elisa didn't know what he meant by that. The silver shield she raised to guard herself from others lowered, just enough for her to peek over it. She met his eyes. They were dark, expressive, ponderous. There was a strange feeling that one got in their chest when they looked into the eyes of a great predator; a sense of awe, dread, and respect. But there was so much more to Goliath's eyes than an hawk, wolf, or lion. So much more.

"Yes." She answered finally. "I'll watch you."

Goliath's smile was a rare kind of smile. It was relief, it was peace. There was hope in that smile-the kind of hope that you saw in the eyes of a soldier after a war that had gone on for far too long. A battle, a struggle, ended.

He mounted the precipice, and he raised his wings in a fearsome pose. Around her, the other gargoyles stood tall, baring their fangs and spreading their wings out, as if to challenge the very sunrise. They raised their voices, a fearsome cry like a chorus of lions, roaring as the sun rose above the sea. Like frost across a window, wherever the sunlight touched them their skin began to turn gray and colorless. She gasped as she watched Goliath's body freeze, crystallize, like ice.

No, not ice. She realized. Stone.

She stepped to the side, peering around to find his face. There it was, frozen in an intimidating snarl, the new dawn illuminating a quartz-like sheen across his face. She breathed in awe.

She watched the sun come up. She laid a hand on Goliath's outstretched elbow, patting it softly.

"I'll keep my promise."

It was dark in the cell. Surrounded on three sides by steel-reinforced concrete and on one side by six-inch bulletproof glass, a space wrapped in stone and silence and darkness. The man inside curled into himself. He shivered in the corner, feeling at once claustrophobic and exposed. He found himself missing his ratty, holey coat.

He peered with dread at the cell opposite his, where a great hairy beast lay facedown on the floor. Whether he was metal or meat, he didn't know. But each breath he took in his unconsciousness shed sparks from a broken aluminum wing. Within that cell was a small crate, a prison within a prison, containing another pathetic creature. An insect, wearing a curious button-up shirt, hung its hands on the bars of the crate, fearfully watching the behemoth beside him.

He heard footsteps coming up the steel hallway. He stood up, hand pressed against the glass, straining to see.

Lights clacked on, unbearably bright after spending hours in the darkness. The man flinched, holding his hands up to his eyes to shield himself.

"Awake at last, human?" A woman's voice purred. "Excellent. I was so looking forward to this."

"W-Who…" The man stuttered, mouth dry. "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" The woman's voice was oily, smug. "A far more interesting question, I think is… what will you become?"

The woman's silhouette shifted, producing a long, heavy object.

A canister, glowing green.