By the time Brooklyn and the others had arrived back to the castle, Owen had already ordered a new spread of food and drink in the dining room and the rest of the clan had assembled around the landing pad to greet Xanatos' hovercraft when it arrived.
"Did they really find a whole new gargoyle clan?" Ophelia asked Brooklyn earnestly, "How many are coming?"
"Goliath only told me that he was bringing some guests," Brooklyn replied in what he felt was a calm tone, though internally, he was just as excited as the others.
"Mr. Xanatos instructed me to prepare for four guests," Owen informed them cooly as he rapidly pressed buttons on a tablet that he held in the crook of his arm. Suddenly he looked up from his work and his stern eyes settled disapprovingly on the nearby mechanic's bay, where a rambunctious young gargoyle had climbed upon a rolling jack and was coasting back and forth on it like a skateboard, with a much smaller, blue-skinned hatchling clinging to his back and squealing with delight.
Dark auburn waves with white tips framed the mischievous face of the rust-colored youth. He was far too gangly to be physically formidable as a warrior, and perhaps too silly in demeanor to be taken seriously at first glance, but when one was caught by his gaze, there was something captivating and almost commanding about him, despite the comical drooping of his oversized ears and the general childishness of his smile. So intent was his focus on his play that he hardly seemed to notice the cold stare of the man behind him.
"Master Alexander," Owen addressed him in a tone strangely formal for a child.
"Hello, Owen," the boy replied cheerfully.
"I believe you have school tomorrow morning."
"That's right," he replied, "Wardenberg at 800 hours, for Algebra."
"The time is three o'clock in the morning now," Owen reminded him sternly.
"Good. That's plenty of time to meet the new gargoyles before the old stiff gets here!"
"It might be advisable to try to get some sleep before then."
"What?!" the boy exclaimed, "And miss this unique opportunity to learn about the art of diplomacy? No way! I can always sleep later, during my Greek lesson."
Owen raised an eyebrow and gave him a scrutinizing glare. Alexander seemed to realize he was going to have to sweeten his end of the negotiation and he stood upright and offered his guardian a salute.
"Baby-sitting duty!" Alexander added hopefully, "I can keep the hatchlings busy, so they don't get in the grown ups' way."
Owen gave him another stern look, but replied, "Very well, Master Alexander. But please take your human form before the guests arrive."
"Why?" the boy whined, "I want to fit in! And no one will know. I've gotten really good at holding it. I can stay a gargoyle as long as I like now. Even all night, if I really want to. No problem!"
"It is more important that our guests see you in your human form," Owen told him simply and the boy gave him a questioning look.
"Oh, all right," Alexander finally agreed begrudgingly, and he gave the hatchling a high toss in the air. By the time he caught the giggling child, he'd taken the form of a skinny, but handsome thirteen year old boy, wearing only a loincloth.
"Whoa!" he cried as his suddenly decreased strength nearly caused him to buckle and drop the squirmy hatchling, "Don't worry, little bro. I got you!"
The little one laughed at him wildly.
"What about your clothes, Alex?" he asked.
"What? It's hot in here!" he replied with feigned defensiveness. Owen gave Alexander a poke with the stylus of his tablet and he suddenly found himself wearing a clean, white-collered shirt with freshly ironed trousers. Alexander sighed.
"I don't even get to pick my own clothes!" he grumbled. Blaze overheard his grousing and gave him a nudge from behind.
"Poor lad! What with all the flunkies you've got running around this place, you're lucky if they let you pick your own nose!"
They didn't have to wait long, before the hovercraft arrived, delivering Goliath, Thorn, Bronx, and the small delegation of bewildered-looking gargoyles.
"Father! Welcome home!" Angela cried as she approached Goliath and embraced him. The new gargoyles watched this exchange curiously, but did not seem too scandalized by the show of emotion. Goliath greeted Angela, then introduced her to the visitors, which were an amazing sight to behold for the rest of the clan.
The female, who seemed to be the leader of the group, had a calculating look about her, and her movements and facial expressions gave the impression of a person who was easily offended. Her tall, graceful form was adorned in a long, skirted garment that looked very ill-suited for combat. Her skin was black, and silver streaks rose up her pronounced face and spiraled to the tips of two pointed horns. More silver markings formed intricate patterns around her neck and down each of her arms and several thick, silver braids swept gracefully down her back, almost to her tail.
She said nothing to Goliath directly, but communicated through a tall, thin male who translated for the party. His eyes had a sleepy look to them, almost as if he were only half in this world. He was a silvery gray color, with streaks of orange and yellow adorning his wings. A small sword was bound at his waist, but nothing about his demeanor indicated any inclination to draw or use it.
Accompanying them were a pair of young warriors, neither of which could disguise their astonishment at the sights of the great city and the new clan gathered to greet them. Unlike their elders, they were dressed for battle. They wore matching blue tunics, bound at their waists. They each wore an armored breastplate and bore a weapon at their side. Both were a midnight blue in color, and like their elders, they greeted the clan by spreading their wings wide, exposing a round, silver emblem, etched like a tattoo into the membranes of their wings.
Next, Goliath introduced Brooklyn to the visitors, who gave him a similar gesture of greeting. Brooklyn greeted them warmly and invited everyone up to the dining room for the delicious meal Xanatos had ordered for them. When he mentioned the name of their host, the leader's ears perked immediately and she addressed her translator.
"Please, Goliath, our Brother," the translator asked, "Our beloved mother wishes to know if we may see the man, Xanatos, who is the owner and master of this company. She very much wishes to speak to him."
"Mr. Xanatos apologizes for his absence," Owen spoke up from behind Goliath, "He intends to join us as soon as possible."
The leader looked slightly relieved to hear this explanation translated for her, and gave Owen a solemn smile that he did not bother to return. Brooklyn gave Goliath a questioning look and he responded with his standard low growl that meant, "We can talk about that later."
The clan and their guests soon gathered around Xanatos' long dining room table, which was prepared for a small feast. The elaborately carved, high-backed chairs that normally sat around it had been replaced with stools, which were far more comfortable for occupants with tails.
The two young warriors smirked at one another as they watched the clan's two children spin themselves around gleefully on the rotating seats. Alexander had to reach out quickly to stop a dizzy little Sister from falling off and landing on a steaming plate of brisket. The girl shrieked with laughter as he tickled her and placed her safely on the floor. Alex sensed eyes on him and he glanced up to find the leader of the delegation watching him intently.
"Please, come and join us," Ophelia asked the pair of young warriors, gesturing toward the stools and they replied with an awkward laughter.
"We could not sit like that!" the male warrior exclaimed, his voice heavy with an accent, "Humans gather at tables, but we usually gather around a fire!" The female warrior said nothing, but gave the seat of one of the stools a playful spin, and laughed.
"Then let us take our meal into the common room," Goliath concluded and he bid the guests fill their plates and they all relocated to the common room under the North Tower, where a fire was started. Once the clan and their guests were all settled on sofas, chairs and crouched on the floor around the fire, Goliath began to answer a rapid fire of questions, with the assistance of their translator.
The delegation had come from a clan which had lived in the western Rocky Mountains for at least seven-hundred years. Many generations ago, there had been a massive, flourishing tribe of gargoyles in the mountains, with many different clans among them. But now, they had diminished in number and only three clans remained, at least that the delegation knew of. In older times, their clan had forged a close alliance with a band of humans who were members of the Ute tribe. However, years of fighting with outside humans had slowly forced the clan's human allies off the land their peoples had shared for centuries, until only a few scattered families remained. Now, the remaining human descendants only spoke of the gargoyles as legends and only a handful of them knew they still existed. Even so, the gargoyles protected the oblivious humans that lived in their valley and their close friends had carefully guarded their secret for years.
The Manhattan clan listened to this story with fascination, and soon began asking questions about the mountain clan and their customs. The translator and the two warriors were kept engaged by the eager listeners, but Brooklyn noticed that the leader, the one they called Beloved Mother, seemed distracted as she watched the two hatchlings who played with Alexander on the floor, in front of the hearth. The translator noticed her distraction as well, and glanced scrutinizingly at the young ones.
"Are these tattoos?" Broadway asked the warriors of the emblems on their wings.
"These are our identities," the translator explained, "Each one is different, but each contains symbols for our tribe, our clan, and our rookeries."
"So, they are like a name, but with pictures?" Angela asked and the two warriors nodded and spread their wings so she could see and compare the details in their own emblems. Brooklyn watched with great interest as well. The emblems reminded him of the strange female they had encountered earlier that evening. He was certain that he had seen a similar design on her wing, and he wondered if she had come from their clan or perhaps one of the other two clans in the mountains they'd mentioned. He was anxious to talk to Goliath about the encounter, but he thought it best not to mention it in front of the delegation, until they'd had a chance to make sense of it. As he pondered this, he noticed the elderly Beloved Mother rising from her perch on the side of the sofa, and heading toward the children on the carpet.
She approached the children with a genuine smile, and Alexander looked up at her curiously as he stretched her claw toward him and patted him gently on the head.
"Not afraid…" she murmured, "Good boy…a good boy!"
Alexander didn't know what to say to this, but the leader spoke to the translator and he said to Goliath.
"Our Beloved Mother wishes to know about the human child. Who is he?"
"This is Master Alexander Xanatos," Goliath explained to him, "The son of David and Fox Xanatos. He is a loyal and dear friend of our clan."
The leader's elderly eyes lit up with genuine delight as her translator explained Goliath's answer and her reply was rapid and sounded tremendously emotional. The translator told Goliath,
"Our Beloved Mother is very pleased indeed to hear this. She remembers a time when the children of our clan played among the children of men in the forests and hillsides of our home. She knows that this must mean that this Xanatos is a wise and fair man. She has hope that he will hear us and be just with us."
Brooklyn wondered apprehensively what sort of negotiations this new clan was hoping to get by Xanatos. He knew that some very expensive equipment had been destroyed, but he doubted that this would be the businessman's first concern. Though Brooklyn had almost come to trust Xanatos as an ally, and even enjoy his company, "wise and fair" were hardly the first words that came to his mind to describe him. "Calculating and opportunistic" were far more accurate. He had no idea what these strangers wanted from the eccentric billionaire, but he certainly hoped they had something good to offer in return.
Brooklyn turned his attention toward the translator, who was still looking at the children with that strange expression, but unlike his leader, he seemed to be focused not on the human babysitter, but the hatchlings themselves. The translator glanced up again and caught Brooklyn's stare and quickly cleared his throat.
"Such healthy and attractive young ones you have," he flattered Brooklyn, "They share a strong resemblance to one another. Are they born of the same mother?" Brooklyn's eyes widened at the impertinence of the question and the older gargoyle immediately looked concerned at his reaction.
"Forgive me," he pleaded, "Forgive me, I didn't…"
"It's alright, my friend," Goliath interjected, "Children are raised communally in our clan. We don't dwell on a hatchling's particular parentage. But you are right to notice the resemblance between them. Our little Sister was born of my daughter, Angela, who you have already met. Little Brother was born of my own mate, who is nearing her laying time and resting."
Brooklyn gave Goliath a questioning look. It was not like his leader to lie, and Brooklyn knew that Adelpha was still weeks away from her laying time. Brooklyn suspected that Goliath had decided that any knowledge of this new clan would be included in the long list entitled, "Things it is Best Adelpha Does Not Know." This saddened him a little, as he was certain that Adelpha would have been overjoyed to meet the new gargoyles.
Brooklyn often worried about Goliath's restrictions on the clan's infamous prisoner. Though he had never gathered the courage to ask him, it appeared clear to Brooklyn that Goliath never intended for Adelpha to know a life in the outside world again, a plan Brooklyn found to be entirely unrealistic. Although he had to concede that cutting her off entirely from humanity and the city that surrounded the clan had ultimately been an act of mercy. The sacrifice of her liberty outside of the castle walls had ironically afforded her almost unthinkable freedom within them, particularly given the fact that she was serving an eternal sentence for treason and murder. But she had changed, and not one among her brethren now wished to see her forever suffering the fate her crimes had once earned her. In Brooklyn's opinion, it was time to reconsider her sentence.
She had never complained of the conditions of her captivity, so it seemed foolish for Brooklyn to do so on her behalf. Even so, he couldn't help a nagging feeling that Goliath's plan for her was too short-sighted and ultimately unsustainable. The world was a constantly changing place, and he had read too many fairytales to believe that princesses, or evil witches for that matter, could truly be held in a castle tower forever.
"Our Beloved Mother wishes to meet your mate, when she comes from the rookery to greet the dawn," the translator asked and Goliath's face fell.
"I don't know that we will see my mate tonight," he replied with no further explanation, and the translator's face became a bit concerned, even suspicious.
Suddenly, the party was interrupted by Owen announcing the arrival of the Xanatoses. David Xanatos and his wife, Fox, soon entered the common room, both flashing welcoming smiles. The visiting delegation rose respectfully to greet them, sweeping open their wings to reveal the emblems that apparently symbolized not only their individual identities, but their clan as well.
Xanatos offered them all a warm greeting to his home, which Brooklyn could tell relieved the delegation significantly. The translator introduced the female leader and their two young warriors.
"Please, Mr. Xanatos," he beseeched humbly, "We have been told of your power and influence among your people. We wish to speak with you of the incident that brought on so much unfortunate destruction, but may have serendipitously brought us to meet with you and perhaps seek your help."
Xanatos was visibly impressed and intrigued by this request and suggested that they move to his office to discuss their concerns, quickly, before the sun rose.
"Owen, we could use some coffee!" he told his servant, "No doubt this evening is shaping up to be another exciting but sleepless night!"
"And speaking of sleeplessness…" his wife added with a tilt of her head in the direction of the hearth where the children still crouched, playing quietly.
"Oh! Hi, Mom!" Alexander called in a voice that dripped with excessive sweetness, "I was going to go to bed, but Owen said he needed my help."
"Of course he did," Xanatos replied incredulously as he beckoned his son to his side and kissed him affectionately on the cheek, "Why sleep now when you have your whole Greek lesson tomorrow?"
"That's exactly what Owen said!" Alexander replied in mock astonishment.
"Go to bed," his mother ordered, and Brooklyn stepped forward and offered to escort Alexander to his room after taking the hatchlings to the rookery to spend the day.
Like most rooms in the castle, the clan's rookery tended toward the extreme in both scope and luxury. It was different from any rookery that Brooklyn had ever seen or heard of, certainly different from damp, but quiet and warm caverns where he had been raised in Scotland. But then again, he and his brethren had enjoyed a full rookery of siblings to play and learn with, as well as all the hillsides, cliffsides, and beaches to run about on, so an elaborate place to shelter during the day and nurse from their mothers had never really been seen as necessary.
Adelpha had a large part in designing the space where the clan would nurture their modest rookery of two, and Xanatos had been more than happy to give her nearly anything she wanted. It was a lovely, comfortable place for the children and their elders, though Brooklyn had to wonder where she had gotten the inspiration for some of the more inventive notions in rookery design. While the inner chamber, which was meant to protect the clutch of eggs, was at least peacefully quiet and dimly lit, the way a rookery ought to be, the rest of the massive nursery resembled a cross between a gymnasium and a woodland-themed mini-golf attraction.
A garden of both real and manufactured trees and plants grew throughout the playspace, which was controlled by a lighting system that could make it appear like the darkest starry night, or the sunniest afternoon. Within these inauthentic woods, was a hidden gymnasium for young warriors to build their strength and cooperation with climbing, swinging, and playing. The various features had changed over the years, as clan members had introduced new ways for the hatchlings to play, or try to kill themselves, as Angela frequently scolded. The hatchlings' industrious and slightly sadistic uncles had nearly as much fun creating new training challenges for the young ones as the actual hatchlings had using them to develop their strength and budding survival skills.
The far end of the space was what the clan called "the sunroom". It was located directly underneath a courtyard, and during the day, the sun shone through the glass ceiling, warming and illuminating the space. Adelpha had insisted on this. Infant gargoyles did not necessarily need the direct sun by day, especially if they were nursing, and the ancient clan had always kept their smallest children safe in the rookery, because of the increased risk of shattering their thin stone skins, but she was convinced that even the youngest hatchlings benefited from hours in the daylight, so the skylights were installed to give the young ones a safe place to enjoy their healing rays.
There was also a large, shallow pool in this space, which could be quickly filled for the purpose of bathing, or just playing in the water. Around the tile floor, a series of futons and large, comfortable cushions were provided for resting, comforting, or nursing little ones.
The last part of the rookery, they called "the library", and Broadway had been its mastermind. He had constructed and painted the shelves and tables himself, and filled them with books that he hoped would one day carry young imaginations across time, space, and realities. Even now, hardly a night would pass when one could not find Broadway curled up there, reading to his children.
As time passed, other clan members had brought other offerings to adorn the shelves as well. Lexington had brought a box of magnetic building panels. Brooklyn had added a collection of toy motorcycles, wooden train tracks, and remote control cars. Linnet shunned plastic and batteries and instead spent several hours of her free time scouring the nearby parks and beaches for the kind of playthings she believed most hatchlings would value. These included treasures such as acorns, beads, arrowheads, goose feathers, exceptionally round pine cones, brightly colored ribbons, bits of glass worn smooth by the sea, interesting rocks, and even a few pearly seashells. Having hidden these objects around the rookery, she placed a decorative treasure box on the library shelf into which the hatchlings could collect them.
Angela and her rookery sister Ophelia, who had a tremendous hand for drawing, had expertly carved several puzzles out of wood. Such toys had always been a special treat when they were young, carved lovingly for them by their guardian, Tom. The pieces came together to form lovely, detailed images of the magical island of Avalon, and the beings who lived there. The puzzles were still a bit of a challenge for the little ones to do alone, but Alexander enjoyed sitting down to help with them and staring at the lovely images wistfully once they were complete.
Even their human friends had contributed to Broadway's library, although Alexander's collection of Legos had to be confiscated for a time after Little Brother had gotten one stuck in his ear. Xanatos had brought them a globe, insisting that such was a necessity for any library, and Owen had ordered a small, round projector which shone the patterns of the stars and constellations on the curved ceiling above the alcove that separated the cozy nook away from the play area. Adelpha had taken a reprieve from her typical open hostility toward Owen to show approval, and even delight at the gift. Unfortunately, she had not been able to do the same for Elisa's Raggedy-Ann and Andy dolls that appeared one night alongside a colorful afghan on a rocking chair in the corner. Aside from her dismay at the idea of hatchlings pretending to nurture human children, she genuinely found the clown-faced cloth boy and girl, with their wild hair of red yarn, perfectly monstrous. She warmed up to them a little though, after learning that they, along with the blanket, had been made by Elisa's grandmother, and she somehow managed to keep her disdain silent.
So the clan's two hatchlings were most at home in Broadway's library, surrounded by the many tokens of love of their elders. It was the most comfortable place in the rookery, and it was of no surprise to Brooklyn to find Adelpha there, asleep where she had fallen, a book laying beside her on the floor, along with the remote control for the implants that Brooklyn assumed Owen had engaged to keep her away from the guests. The hatchlings giggled at the sight of their normally proud and dignified rookery mother crumbled in a silly heap on the floor, and even Alexander had to chuckle at bit at the sight.
"Help, Brother," Little Sister asked as she fetched an excessively large cushion from a pile in the corner and drug it over to where Adelpha lay. Together they pulled her limp form onto the cushion and Little Brother took the afghan from the chair and laid it across her gently, still giggling.
"That's very sweet of you," Brooklyn told them mischievously, "But you forgot something!" He took Raggedy-Andy from the chair, and with a slightly wicked grin, he placed the ugly doll in the crook of her arm. Alexander snorted, knowing how much she hated the doll, and the hatchlings both laughed at the joke and clapped their claws in appreciation.
"I'm afraid naptime is over though," Brooklyn told them as he retrieved the remote and punched in the sequence to awaken her. Adelpha startled immediately, sitting up hastily and looking very surprised to find Brooklyn beside her.
"Well, it's been a while," she commented crossly, "And I don't remember trying to kill anyone. What did I do wrong this time?"
"Nothing at all," Brooklyn assured her with a lie, "Just a little security test."
"Security test?" she asked incredulously, crawling out from under the afghan and tossing the doll back onto the chair, where it landed awkwardly, "With no warning?"
"Yeah, sorry about that," Brooklyn apologized.
"You know, Brooklyn," she said critically, "If you're going to lie, you could at least put some thought into making it somewhat believable. Otherwise I might start to think I'm not even worth the effort to you."
"What?!" he exclaimed with mocked sensitivity, "Seriously? Of course, that's not true! You mean all the world to me! I promise, only the best and most well-crafted lies for my dear sister from now on!"
"It's the thought that counts!" Alexander snickered, and Adelpha turned and quickly flashed a wicked smile at the sight of him.
"There's my little informant!" she cooed, "Come, Alexander, dear! Come sit by your Adelpha and tell me all about your day. How was school? What's been going on? And why did your servant come in here and lay me out senseless for the last three hours?"
Alexander smiled coyly, but obeyed, sitting beside her on the floor and letting her draw him close. Brooklyn gave him a warning look but Alexander smiled back at him confidently.
"Well, I'm having a terrible time," he complained dramatically.
"Oh, no!" she replied, "What's troubling you?"
The boy smiled sheepishly, leaning in to her and settling himself beneath her wing, and then he began to talk.
"Well, at first, when I woke up, my dad had already left for a meeting…
For several minutes, Brooklyn watched in astonishment as Alexander Xanatos recited the longest and most prolific litany of tweenish grievances he had ever imagined. For minute after minute, and with an impressive level of skill, the boy griped, yammered, denounced, grumbled and lamented everything from his tutor's boring lectures, to his abysmal lack of a social life, to the trials of precalculus and brussel sprouts, to tyrants both magisterial and parental, to the mysterious nature of a thirteen year old girl's mind, to the ineffectiveness of professional baseball managers. So rapidly did his mind switch from subject to subject, that thirteen minutes had passed and Adelpha had not gotten a word in edgewise.
Quietly, Brooklyn had slipped away to the sunroom, leaving Alexander to skillfully keep Adelpha distracted until sunrise. He hadn't much longer to go either. The sky over the sunroof was becoming light as he looked through the glass. His mind wandered through the many things that had happened that night. He wondered about the rogue gargoyle on the beach. He was nearly certain that she was somehow connected to the visitors, and he anxiously waited for the chance to speak to Goliath about the encounter. He wondered what the delegation could be talking to Xanatos about. They seemed to want his help in some matter and based on their leader's emotionally positive reaction to the evidence of the bond between their clan and the Xanatos family, he guessed it was something tremendously important.
Brooklyn crouched on the tiled edge of the empty pool. Even without the sun, the space was warmed by UV lamps and they began to burn as soon as they sensed him creeping into their presence. The sudden change in light was unsettling, but the warmth of the lamps was comforting and he stretched out to enjoy it, already sleepily anticipating the sunrise. He considered whether it was worth it to try returning to the north tower. He might as well let Alexander run out Adelpha's clock for the remaining minutes until sunrise and spend the day in the sunroom.
Suddenly, the outline of a moving shape caught his eye in the corner of the sunroof. The one-way glass of the window panels didn't allow anyone on the outside to see into the rookery. In the daylight, it didn't even look like glass from the outside, but more of a dark metal material. In the dark, however, the sudden light of the lamps beneath would have caused a light glow that would attract attention. A winged shape cast a shadow and Brooklyn guessed that one of the visitors was attempting to peek in on him. The shadow drew closer in, attempting to peer through the glass panels at whatever was beneath. They could not see Brooklyn, but Brooklyn could see them, and he jumped up in alarm. It wasn't the midnight blue face of either of the visiting two warriors that was illuminated by the lamps, but the bright red mask of the rogue they had encountered early that evening, peering in apprehensively.
Quickly, Brooklyn raced back to where Alexander was rapidly draining Adelpha's will to live with youthful nattering.
"Alex, will you take the hatchlings up to the clan, to say goodnight?" he asked in a tone that was clearly an order.
"But I'm supposed to be in bed!" Alex replied.
"Thank you!" Brooklyn answered brusquely, then he grabbed Adelpha's wrist and rescued her from the conversation only to deliver her into the hallway outside the rookery, where he dragged her toward a stairwell that led to the upper level of the courtyard which overlooked the rookery.
"Wait!" Adelpha urged, "That's not in bounds for me! The implants will knock me out again!" Brooklyn grunted in response.
"Wait here!" he ordered, "Don't move and be ready to help!"
"Help with what, exactly?" she asked suspiciously, but he didn't reply.
The level of the courtyard above the rookery was somewhat of a dead zone. It was a narrow strip of wasted space that didn't lend itself to much, much like an outdoor hallway between two more important places. The two doors on either side of it led to the rookery on one side, and some storage and Owen's quarters on the other. The longer side walls overlooked the Xanatos' private garden to the south, and the main courtyard and the tower where the gargoyles were gathering to sleep to the north. The only things notable on its surface were the black glass of the skylight in the middle, and a collection of colorful umbrellas for outdoor tables that someone had stored up there long ago and subsequently forgotten that Xanatos owned.
"Hello?" Brooklyn called cautiously, glancing around the seemingly abandoned rooftop. Just then, he caught the movement of a shadow in the corner just beside him and realized the rogue female was hiding right behind his back.
"Brooklyn?" she whispered.
"Yes!" he replied happily, trying not to shout with excitement from that she could not only speak but remembered his name, "You came here after all! I told you, you are safe here! It's nearly sunrise! We should-"
The rogue cut him off by reaching her claws out toward him. She still held the small tracer with the scarab emblem on it.
"Xanatos!' she whispered anxiously, pressing the tracer into his claws. He looked at her frustrated face, still not understanding what she was trying to tell him.
"You're afraid of Xanatos?" he asked, "He's our friend."
She shook her head emphatically, pointing to herself and then to the tracer.
"Xanatos!" she repeated, frustration and fear rising in her voice.
Below them, the heavy double doors of the north tower opened, and Goliath, Xanatos, and the new visitors stepped out together, talking loudly. The rogue gargoyle gasped at the sight of them, and backed away from the edge, as if afraid of being seen, even across the courtyard. Brooklyn caught her and tried to comfort her.
"It's alright," he assured her, "That's Goliath, our leader, and Xanatos is our friend. They wouldn't hurt you. We're friends." But the rogue wasn't having his repeated efforts of assuagement. She struggled against him holding her, and swiped her claws at his face angrily. Awkwardly he caught her claws and managed to drag her backward into the stairwell.
"Adelpha! Some help, please!" he called, and she was soon at his side, though visibly surprised at the strange female he was attempting to wrestle into submission.
"What are you trying to do with her?" she demanded as she took hold of her left side.
"Get her inside," he grunted as the rogue roared ragefully.
"Get her inside where?" she asked. Brooklyn paused anxiously. The sun would rise any minute. There was a holding cell in the basement of the tower, but they'd never get that far in time.
"Your room," he ordered. Clearly confused and suspicious of what folly she was being drawn into, Adelpha obediently helped Brooklyn drag the enraged captive down the stairs, through the long hallway, and to the elevator that led to her rooms. All the while, his radio chirped at his waist, and Goliath's voice urged him to answer. They got the rogue into the room and to Adelpha's dismay, he quickly closed the security gate that hadn't been shut in years.
"What is going on?" she cried in outrage as she wrestled wildly with the strange female that seemed hellbent on tearing her face off.
"Meet your new roommate," Brooklyn explained as he pulled out his radio, "Do not kill her!"
His claws finally free to push the button on the radio, he replied to Goliath and told him he was on his way. With that, he disappeared into the corridor and left Adelpha wondering if the directive not to kill was meant for her or the aggressive stranger she was now locked in with.