ACT IX

I, Elisa Maza, coughed and pushed away from an ammonia stench.

"It's Matt! I had to use an inhalant!"

He sounded like Silly Putty was stuck in my ears. My vision was blurred. Then I slipped off my own couch in my own fucking apartment! The surge of ammonia finally cleared up those initial symptoms and Matt helped me stand.

"I was dumped here like a drunken prom date. What are you doing here?"

"You weren't answering your phones," Matt announced.

"Conover killed the clan, probably everyone in the building!"

"Everyone including the clan was banged up, but they all survived." Matt revealed.

He found Fox News whose breaking story was perfect video of the fleeing clan. Goliath's glowing eyes were in an extreme close-up. Analysts, anchors and reporters hadn't cared how Hudson and Lex looked dead.

"Our winged friends are public enemy number one. It's even fucking trending as #GargoyleTerrorists. Come on, you need medical attention." Matt footnoted.

"I need to hear what the fuck's going on." I said while I sat down and then he handed me a thick folder.

"Well, Goliath's lead snowballed into something bigger than any of us." He said the homeless community saw a ginormous, black sky serpent with battle wounds near the warehouse. Then a Federal Aviation Administration employee reluctantly revealed unorthodox flight patterns were permitted to an aircraft. F.A.A. brass looked the other way. He weaved a thread of consecutive camera blackouts in the last few days. Hundreds of companies reported camera feedback that lasted several seconds. Matt scored an interview with Tony Stark, the designer of a micro electromagnetic pulse for United States and United Kingdom military operatives. It located and targeted video and radio frequencies (explained why my own radio went wonky). As Stark was a common victim of theft he made certain that had someone stolen this idea, he'd know. Lo and behold, the Scottish government reported its illegal upload; an impossible feat without an inside mole.

"Conover has a Scottish accent," I noted.

The Canmores, Jason, Jon and Robyn, were Scotland's wealthiest family. They commissioned designers and manufacturers to create weapons for gargoyle extermination. Stark refused to and it prompted the theft of his micro-E.M.P. Matt hadn't discovered how or why Jason became my fake partner.

"We have to stop them, Matt. We have to stop the Canmores." I angrily declared.

"Elisa, they still win. By releasing that footage, Earth's remaining Gargoyles are exposed and endangered. All it took was several billion dollars," Matt said.

"That money makes them believe they're invincible, but they're not."

My phone beeped a voice message sent while I was drugged. It was Lexington, and he sounded weakened. "Elisa, we know the Hunters tried to blow us up but we also know we're getting blamed for it. Goliath is scattering the clan. One of us will call you. Gotta run."

"I heard Chavez yell in pain before Jason grabbed me," I recounted.

"Her left leg was broken. She's at Manhattan General," he said.

"We need to see her and tell her the truth, just as we planned," I decided.

"Hey, Elisa, I heard about what Sergeant Baker did. I'll miss Tessie, too. She was wonderful. " Matt knew Tessie when I brought him to her cookouts.

We traveled to the hospital to see Maria Chavez, leg in a cast in stirrups.

"Welcome to Armageddon," she greeted.

"Captain, I'm so sorry this happened to you. It's my entire fault," were my pained words.

"What the hell are you babbling about, Maza?" Chavez asked.

About selfishly housing the gargoyles there so I could visit daily; I never expected they'd be found. "I'm just relieved you and everyone else are alive."

"Anyway, we've got new enemies of the state to blame." She gestured to the television.

I raised the volume. It was rescue workers, firefighters and police bandying about. Then a reporter stood amidst the chaos. "This is John Carter with a WVRN special report on the destruction of the Twenty-Third Precinct House by the monsters known as gargoyles."

So much for impartial journalism. During his voice over, the video cut to a perfectly framed shot of the clan soaring away. I shut it off and faced Matt and Chavez.

"It wasn't any gargoyles! It was those Hunters and Jason Conover!" Then I looked back at the blank screen.

"You mean the guy who saved your life," Chavez was confused.

"I mean the guy who drugged me, broke into my apartment and left me there unconscious!" I was demonstrative.

"His real name is Jason Canmore and he's not a cop, never was." Matt handed her a file. She flipped his mug shot to reveal another of an older, mustached man. "That's his father, Charles Canmore: died in Paris under mysterious circumstances sixteen years ago. His three kids have been leaving a trail of violence behind them ever since."

So, Jason was truthful about his father's first name. Maybe a gargoyle killed him. It would make sense that his children would exact revenge. But if Clan Manhattan was under a mystic slumber in Scotland sixteen years ago, was it another surviving clan or another generation of gargoyles? It could've easily been that human-hating, immortal bitch, Demona.

"This happened on my fucking watch. I.A.D. will ream my ass!" Chavez bellowed.

The reporter looked familiar. He interviewed Matt about gargoyles, too. I flashed back to the picture of that cherubic boy named Jon and compared it to the bigoted adult named John. "He's a Canmore!"

"Who is?" Matt asked.

"That WVRN news reporter, I'm positive! We have to go to WVRN studios right now."

"If you're that sure, then take the prick in for questioning, and be careful," Chavez said.

We ran out. We were gonna make the Hunters wish they were fishermen.

END ACT IX