Brooklyn cursed himself for being so obvious, everything had been going so well.

Formulating an escape attempt had been an ordeal. He wasn't strong enough to break through any manner of bars, not with the starvation and constant physical exhaustion; but that didn't matter. Cunning was his specialty, not brute force.

He didn't have strength or resources, and no one was coming to rescue him - but he had time and desperation, plenty of it.

Honestly, self mutilation was never something he wanted to seriously debate, but it was necessary. Through accidental trial and error, he learned stomach acid could corrode metal (he sure didn't relish the night he had figured that out, though). But that had been the first bit of hope he had had since being dragged down.

By now, he could anticipate stone sleep, hell, he could even stave it off for hours - and that's just what he needed. He could take life threatening injuries now and just flick on stone sleep on command to undo the damage. At the end of every night, depending if they had opened him up, he'd whip out his talons, grit his teeth, and… well it wasn't good to dwell on what he did next. Point was, he was able to get stomach acid when he needed it.

And after dribbling it on the inside of the bars and waiting a week for it to test out his theory, he realized escape wasn't just wishful thinking.

He finally had a plan: Lather a tiny bit of stomach acid onto the bottom and top section of one of the bars in the back left hand corner of the cage, a spot no guard would ever see in the dark. Then, after the metal had begun to rust, little by little file it away with stone shards from his evening wake up. Once he was out, he'd be able to sneak up on one of the two guards who rotated duty outside his door, snap their necks, don as much of armor and weapons as he could before the rest of the place knew what had happened, and fight his way out. It didn't matter that he was so skinny now that he could number all his bones, even in this state he was stronger than any human.

It had been a good plan…..

But the surprise inspection of his cage, the first he had ever gotten here, had dashed that dream. The punishment he had received for it was nearly a week long.

Now thanks to that, they moved him to 'general population' as they jokingly liked to call it. Human fucking cattle, more like it. While the guards worked on welding a stronger, high quality cage for him… he was kept under 24 hour, eyes-on, surveillance in the holding cells of the humans.

Seeing him get wheeled in had been a horrible experience for the humans. The ones who weren't drugged into unconsciousness must have thought he was either there to eat them or they were going to be turned into something like him - at least that's what he picked up from all the screaming.

But after he was thrown into an adjacent cage like theirs (well, with bars thrice as thick as the stock size) they all caught on he was every bit as helpless as they were.

That had been a week ago… but today?

—-

"Ngghhh- SSSSssssssss!" Brooklyn awoke back in his cage with a jolt, he grit his teeth with an uncomfortable hiss. He must have passed out during the last surgery and been taken here while unconscious. His new regeneration speed had already sealed up his wounds to the point the pain was only an intense ache, rather than an agonizing fire.

*gasp*

His struggle to all fours was halted by his ears perking up. He turned his attention to where the sound had come from the cage adjacent to his. His hearts stopped.

Eleanor.

The rabid wolf. The little girl who was mauled to practical death and infected. The funeral. The night he unlocked the feral state. His first kill.

It was her. Eleanor was in the cage next to him. Her spitting image, right down to the brown hair with one side braided! How could this be possible?

He sat up with his horrified complexion locked squarely on here. He must have looked like death, because the terrified human quickly scrambled back as far as her cage would allow her "E…..E-Eleanor?" he asked weakly.

Her silent terror upon beholding him wasn't the reaction he had hoped for. Her lack of response signaled the confused bewilderment he needed. It gave him a chance to make her out in the dark red lighting.

No… No, it wasn't Eleanor… but she could have very well been her twin (just a millenia apart). Gargoyles were pretty poor judges of human age, but he quickly pinpointed her at anywhere between 10 and 13… maybe? Wide margin of error, sure, but it was the best he could do. Her older face had slight differences from Eleanor's younger one here and there, but they were pretty damn negligible.

She had slammed her eyes shut and cowered behind quivering arms and a tugged-at shirt, too scared to speak, lest ask questions.

"H-hey, hey." Brooklyn rasped out with an extended hand "It's okay… I'm not gonna hurt you."

'Yeah, real stellar intro, Brooklyn.' he thought to himself.

He looked like a talking corpse. He was a beaked, contorted ghoul at death's door; between the bloated stomach, the boney limbs, the shaved head, and a recently amputated toe, he was far from a calming sight.

Brooklyn's stiff knees popped as he backed away from the bars, propping himself against the bars to give her space. He looked over his mutilated body and in a split second, decided to at least cover up the nasty parts. He curled his knees to his chest and immediately draped his wings over himself in a cocoon, at least making it so she didn't have to see the more grisly stitches "Sorry… Yeah, I know… not the best thing to look at."

She didn't move. All he had to go off was her still quaking form and shield of fabric. Judging how she wasn't here when he was brought out this morning, they must have just brought her in off the streets.

"It's okay… It's okay." he tried to lie as gently as he could to her.

"...I… I wanna go home…" she struggled above a whisper.

What the hell was he supposed to say to her? What piece of false comfort could he give her that wasn't a flat out lie? What? That she was going to be okay? That she was going to be safe? That they were going to get out of here? That they were going to be rescued? That she wasn't going to wind up as another one of all the organ factories on the operating tables?

"Yeah…" he said simply "...Me too…"

For some reason, that was the line that made her dare lower a shaking arm to peer cautiously over it.

He didn't move, not wanting to spook her. His mind raced for a million things he could possibly say to her. All he could settle on was: "...Are you also from New York?"

"W…What?"

"New York." his haggard voice stated casually "Are you a local?"

Her head nodded before words shakily followed "Y-Yes…?"

When no further response followed, he nodded and twirled a hand "Same… Brooklyn."

Her forearm slowly lowered below her chin now, but her terrified brow made room to hint at confusion.

"Well I mean, like, my name's Brooklyn." he introduced with an empty gaze "...But I'm from downtown… Don't suppose I could convince you into thinkin' I'm from TriBeCa though, could I?" almost an attempt at humor.

"I-I'm Bobbi… B-Bobbi Porter." she said weakly, but finally above a whisper. She took in a moment to look around at the other cages - half empty, and half filled with humans who had no strength or consciousness to talk "W…What are y-" she swapped questions mid sentence "Where are we?"

Brooklyn's voice managed to form a coherent set of sentences for the first time in months "...I don't know…" he admitted "...I don't know."

The anxiety in him wanted to just slam against the bars with both hands and beg for her to tell him that someone knew she'd be missing, that someone would come looking for her. That someone would be coming to break them out… but the last bastions of morality that had dug themselves into his psyche won that battle. His words came out as slowly as his restraint allowed them to "...How did you get here?"

"I-I…" she covered her ears and crumpled into the ball "Why… why? Why?" she whimpered "Why did I have to tell?"

"Bobbi?"

Fingers strained until they turned white "I-I wasn't supposed to tell. I-I saw people being taken off the street. Radar said we weren't supposed to tell anyone."

"Radar?" he echoed with a sudden fire.

"M-Men were taking people… h-homeless people. They said they were being brought to help them. But then they started taking other kids… we were watching a baseball game, Dave, Kenny, and I… W-We were supposed to wait there for a... But… But then another kid on the concourse saw us and the buyer. T-They said no one was supposed to know. They chased him and took him away in a van. I-I tried to tell someone what happened a few days later… t-then Radar found out… A-And…" she buried her face into her knees and clasped her forearms around them.

Brooklyn just let her cry, might as well let her get it out for a few minutes… Radar… That name again. That greasy, liver spotted faced bastard who had sold him… he was the bastard selling them? Wait that meant-

Brooklyn immediately wanted to rip something in half. He'd have gone berserk in the cage, had she not been watching.

That bastard was the one enabling all this!? Brooklyn had been THIS close to beating them that night! Had he just fucking WAITED for the clan or gone back to get them the night this all started, they'd have taken out Radar! They'd have interrogated this place out of him with ease! They would have found this place, freed all these people and NONE OF THIS would have ever happened!

It was all because of one lucky stray dart! No! It was because he was too stupid to go in alone!

NO.

No no no no no. It was none of that…. Goliath. It was because of GOLIATH. Had Goliath not flipped out on him, then he wouldn't have been forced to go there on his own in a suicide mission! It wasn't his fault! None of this was his responsibility! H-He had nothing to regret or wish he could take back! It wasn't his fault!

Brooklyn could feel the Feral State igniting inside of him, but quelled it the second his eyes darted back to Bobbi. He rolled onto his knees and crawled to where the bars met "...I'm sorry…" he empathized. "...Why were you working for Radar?"

She quivered and wiped her nose "D-Dave and I… A lot of times, things were… bad. Dad was always yelling at us for messing up and Mom… she was never around."

"Yeah… I understand…" he quickly put the rest of the story together on his own. "Is Dave your brother?" he hadn't seen any new donors come in aside from her.

"Yes… He told me I shouldn't tell anyone about what I saw… I knew I should have listened." she shook her head "He probably doesn't eve-" she seethed up and quickly recoiled with a cry.

Brooklyn immediately looked down "SHIT." he cursed to himself, quickly snapping his wings over himself. When he had rolled to his knees to crawl over to her, he hadn't recovered himself; his mutilated torso had been on full display to her.

"I-Is that go-going to happen to me?"

Brooklyn had lost any energy to assure her "No."... all he could do was solemnly open his mouth and say "...I don't kn-", but grabbed the word with the tip of his tongue.

Something ate at the back of his mind suddenly. Something that was reminiscent of the last time he was in 'this' situation… when he was told Eleanor would not be warned about her inevitable demise.

"Two ways you went about dealing with imminent death: one way for adults, one way for children. If it was an adult, you'd tell them the truth and give them time to make peace with themselves; it was cruel to give them false hope when they knew better deep down. If it was a child, then you'd lie your tail off about them making a recovery. They were naive enough to be fooled into thinking they'd be alright… might as well let them think they'd be okay, rather than be in fear their last few days."

"No." Brooklyn answered simply "...No. It's not gonna happen to you."

He didn't allow her the chance to slip back into more tears "Hey, ya never told me what district you were from though."

"W-What? Um… The Bronx?"

"No kiddin'." he huffed in a way that was almost a half chuckle "I named my dog Bronx."

"Your… You have a dog?" she made a gesture with her hands "Like… a dog dog? Or like, a monster dog?"

"Hey, gargoyle. GAR-GOYLE." he corrected with forced amusement and a jabbing thumb to his beak "I know I'm not runway material, but I'm not THAT ugly."

The sudden raise in his voice must have spooked her "N-NO! I didn't mean it like that!"

He substituted hushing assurance with a dismissive smirk. The vastly larger gargoyle leaned his back against the bars perpendicular to him "So… The Bronx, eh? Guess that makes you a Yankees fan… shame. I'm all about the Mets."

"...W-What?"

Brooklyn did what he could to remember a time before he was dragged into hell "Yeah… You guys knocked us out of the last season, yet ya STILL lost to the Boston Red Sox at the Playoffs, way to represent the home-city, girl." he chuckled - fake, but almost convincing.

"You…" she blinked a few times as this was the most alien conversation in the world "...You're talking about baseball? Wait, you - YOU… you WATCH our sports?"

"Dang right, haven't missed a game of the Rangers or the Mets in two years." he stated proudly "Never seen a Giants game though, the parking lot around that stadium is DECEPTIVELY huge; can't glide over it with such low buildings."

"Wait wait… so you're just… normal?" she breathed in shock.

"Ouch." he snickered dryly "But - yeah, if that's what you wanna call it. Though I'd call my taste in music a step above the average person."

He almost dared a sigh of relief when she saw the tension in her body language finally leave. The hell of their situation left as she suddenly became more invested in the novelty before her. She gawked at him "S-So you're just like us? Who are you? Where do you come from? Can you fly?"

He extended one wing to satisfy her curious hands that barely managed to slip through the bars "Heh heh, no - I uh, glide." he scratched his bald head "Where I come from though? Well… Now that's a long story."

Well, it wasn't like he had anything else to distract their thoughts with; he could kill a few hours by telling her the entirety of gargoyle history. He might as well keep her mind preoccupied as long as possible before she died.

Hopefully afterwards, it'd finally be his turn.

0000oooo0000oooo0000

Brooklyn choked back a sob in pain. The narcotics were becoming less and less effective.

The first few weeks, he could at least be put under for his operations - but as his body built up fiercer and fiercer immunities to every drug they could pump into him, it made the pain all the more immediate. He hadn't even been wheeled back to his cage yet and already the pain was seering. A cage that would be without a neighbor.

Brooklyn had been under his regular experiments for two days straight, by now Bobbi had no doubt been taken away to either be killed and harvested for her organs or strapped to one of those damn tables to be turned into a factory.

He cried out in pain as was thrown into his cage, the heavy steel door slamming shut behind it to seal him inside… already he wanted to break down.

She was an innocent girl… a small child who looked like the spitting of Eleanor - justt another kid he had failed to save. He had only spoken to Bobbi for a few hours, but even that was enough for him to become attached to something in this hopeless abyss of death; something decent for a change.

He gripped his chest, huffing as he could physically feel the wounds beginning to mend themselves already…

"B-Brooklyn?"

He snapped his head left. There was no way.

"A-Are you okay?" Bobbi asked in hushed terror.

Brooklyn forgot about the pain instantly "BOBBI?" he snatched the bars with both hands so quickly that she recoiled. He frantically looked her up and down - gone were her street clothes, replaced now with a hospital gown. But she was alive.

There were zero reasons for them to return her to a cage, once you were moved to the 'hospital' rows, you never came back.

But she was here, alive and well. His mouth stuttered for words "B-Bobbi, are you okay?" he immediately asked "What happened? Did they take you?"

She sniffled "T-They…" she pointed to the pit of her left elbow "...Needle. They took blood. But it hur-"

Blood. They took blood? "Bobbi, let me see your wrist."

"H-huh?"

"Let me see your wrist. Just real quick, okay? No, the other one, the one with the wristband" extending his taloned hand through the bar.

He took hold of her little hand as gently as his shaking one would allow. His eyes darted over the hospital identification wristband.

Blood Type: O-

A foreign feeling rushed into him: relief.. Brooklyn needed plenty of blood for all the times they cut him open - and his uncooperative body only accepted one blood type: the universal kind, The O Negative kind. HER kind. His eyes darted up to her in relief, they wouldn't dissect her like the others - her blood was too precious.

"B-Brooklyn?"

"You're going to be fine." he quickly rambled out, letting go of her wrist "I mean…. Your arm is going to be fine. It's just going to sting for a little bit, okay?"

She hugged her knees to her chest "B-But I'm s-so cold."

"They took a lot out of you, I know." he offered grim comfort. He scooched to the edge of their cage as close as he could. He slipped a wing through the gaps in the bar and cocooned it around her. Bars may have divided them, but a draping wing provided her with his body warmth. "But…. you're… you're going to be okay now…"

"You're very important to these people. You're special.." he rumbled "They aren't going to….. You aren't going to end up on one of those tables."

She shivered as she sunk into his wing, ducking her head to try and soak up as much of his warmth as possible. But suddenly "B-BROOKLYN! You're hurt!" she recoiled.

*Shit* Brooklyn quickly covered his mutilated torso with both of his boney forearms "Don't worry about me, kid. I'll be fine." he said with firmness - even though he consciously had to stop himself from doubling over and hugging his stomach in agony "Lemme have a look."

He was by no means a doctor, but he had been a warrior for forty years - tactical combat casualty care came with the job "There, see? It's not bad." his voice calmed "They took a little blood, but they gauzed you up just 're just gonna be a little chilly and a little light headed for a little while."

"But aren't you cold?" she whimpered, curling up as tight as she could to him without touching the cold steel of the bars "-or, WHY aren't you cold?

"High metabolism, kid. Burn a lot of fuel?" he raised one hand "Make a lotta heat." he held up the other. He shrugged, "Kept me warm in the winter even when I had nothin' on me."

Small talk was impossible to keep up when in a situation like this, but he couldn't let her sink into her own thoughts. Brooklyn knew it was an impossible pit to dig yourself out of if you let it drag you down… it'd devour your mind.

He used everything he could. Answering her questions about who he was and where he came from, taking 10 minutes to answer questions that could be answered with one word, going off on tangents for as long as he could run them - anything to stretch out the conversation as long as he could. He had stretched it out for what seemed like hours before:

"...Do you think you would ever take me flying?" she said with a blank gaze.

"Heh, if I did, I'd start you off with something low-altitude. Not that I'd drop you or somethin', but some first time fliers always get spooked on their first flight." he chuckled.

She rested against his arm that he had slipped through the bars to her cage - at least it was warmer and softer than the metal around them "I've always wanted to go flying…"

"Heh, come on, I'm sure ya can get better views up in those planes flyin' outta JFK. How many times have ya told me your dad flew outta there?"

She flinched at the sentence, her voice followed slow "Dad… Dad never took us on those - he never took us anywhere… Nowhere good at least. He always said it was good to get away from us."

"Oh…" he looked away "...yeah, I know what that feels like…" he quickly turned his attention back to her "But hey. I'M gonna take ya flyin', alright? After this, we'll go find Dave and I'll take ya for a flight - the both of you."

No response came from Bobbi - but the little comfort he could give was better than nothing. It was a while before she spoke up again.

"...What about you though? …You mentioned you had parents once… what were they like?" she hugged his arm, almost like clutching to a lifeline for security "...were they nice like you?"

Brooklyn tensed up way more than he anticipated, because she quickly jumped away from his flexing forearm in a flinch "Sorry." he quickly dismissed. His eyes burrowed into the wall "...Yeah… They were… They were happy with me once."

"Once?"

"...Yeah, once…" He grimly exhaled "...Don't discount what your mom and dad thought of you too much, Bobbi. I'm sure they love you - they absolutely do."

She shook her head into his arm.

"They DO love you…" he affirmed quietly "I promise you, they do, Bobbi. I've seen how parents are for someone who's biologically their own child - a child that's THEIRS. They'll throw away everything, every ONE, for them. Once someone has their own kid, one of their own I mean… that person changes for good."

"How can you be so sure?" she weakly asked into the crook of his elbow.

The gargoyle was silent again.

He instead lifted his arm up, swaddling it around her shoulder for what partial hug he could offer her little form "You're a good kid, Bobbi. They'd be proud of you."

She sniffled. Both her hands clutched onto his bony arm with eyes shut tight - wanting to hold onto the warmth he provided in more than just physical means. And she had to hold onto it for as long as she could because-

*CRACKLE*

"NGHHHHH." Brooklyn grunted in exertion, quickly snapping his hand away from Bobbi and robbing her of what it gave.

"B-Brooklyn?" she exclaimed "W-hat's wrong?"

"Nothin'." he hissed, rolling onto his knees with gritting teeth "Just… Have been putin' off stone sleep for too long. It's-" he tried to readjust his squatted position, but his movements were already becoming stiff "-It's not gonna let me put it off any longer."

"N-NOW!?" she said in panic. Her eyes tore off of Brooklyn, frantically looking around in the darkness of the underground "C-Can you put it off just a little longer?"

"I-I can't." he strained "...Been resisting it for the past six hours."

She dug a death grip onto him through the bars "Brooklyn, please no! Don't… Please don't leave me alone!" she begged with welling tears.

The frantic terror in her voice shot through him like a bullet. She was like him on the first night - she didn't want to be left alone down here… she didn't want to be taken while he was petrified. But there was nothing he could do, even if he wasn't in stone sleep - what could HE possibly do to protect her? He was all the more useless as stone! Nothing but a frozen witness!

But something inside him burned anew. This wasn't some peer, warrior, or even an adult - this was a kid, a CHILD… a scared child who was desperately begging for SOMETHING to assure her. He couldn't do the impossible - but something bubbled up inside him to at least try to accomplish just that.

"Lay down." he ordered gruffly.

"W-What?"

"Just lay down. A position you'll be comfortable to sleep in for the next 7 hours. QUICK." he grunted - his feet were already turning to stone.

She obeyed. No sooner did she curl fetally on the floor of her cage, Brooklyn had pressed himself up against the metal as close as he could. He twisted his shoulders and swooped his prehensile wing through the gap in the bars - draping it over her. He reached one hand over the top of her head, and swung his tail beneath the bottom of her feet, leaving a few inches in both directions for her to move around.

"They're not gonna get you, Bobbi… not while I'm here." he didn't avert his gaze, not this time. He looked her squarely in the eyes "I don't care if I'm stone or if I'm flesh - I'm not gonna let them lay a hand on you. Got it?"

"I-I don't get it, what are you doing?"

"They need me intact, Bobbi. Only way they're gonna get to you while I'm stone is by chiseling pieces of me away - and they're not gonna do that. And if they do…" he shrugged his shoulders "Then whatever."

"Brooklyn…?"

Brooklyn forced every word out as if he was speaking with empty lungs. The stone was taking hold "Just get some sleep, kiddo, okay?" he managed a smile "...I'm not gonna go anywhere."

She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes, before swallowing and nodding shakily.

"Get some sleep, Bobbi… I'll keep watch." his body hardened to granite.

0000oooo0000oooo0000

….

…

"Aaaaaaaaaaand, he's out. Time is now… 16:36." One of the labcoat-clad researchers marked the time of petrification.

"That's incredible…" Calvert mused from behind the observer's chair. 15 people all in one room combing through the data of today's numbers, and still there was something special about watching Brooklyn turn to stone live on the camera feed. "His biological clock should have him turning to stone sometime between noon and 2 pm, but he's able to resist it by hours now."

"-And chances are he'd be able to deny a transformation way longer if he was at full strength." another researcher's pen scratched into his clipboard "The hematology section kept him conscious for nearly 39 hours."

"And on that topic, let's segue into just that." Calvert rumbled with a contemplative knuckle pressed to his chin "Kelson, you mentioned you had something you wanted to save to Close of Business?"

The addressed scientist nearly leapt for the computer when given permission. With a lightning fast typing on the keyboard, the latest videos of their findings appeared on the main screen of the room "Sir, we're progressing faster than even our most optimistic of projections. Here's Patient Zero's initial blood samples…" he clicked his fingers on the keyboard "...and here's from yesterday."

Even Brannigan couldn't help shed a sadistic smile for an awestruck gawk..

"...These are Brooklyn's? Organically?'

"One hundred percent organic sir. It's only been two months and his cells are already almost at a 2,700% increase in replication speed. He's able to regenerate from injuries while AWAKE just as fast as he originally could in stone sleep."

Sick, euphoric disbelief was silent in the room.

"...Sir, we were hoping Project Immortal would be completed within our lifetime… but this? We may have the first successful subject within a year!"

Whistles and self-congratulatory cheers were immediately halted by Calvert's hand "Not quite, not quite. Patient Zero might be progressing rapidly, but we must make it so all his samples can be synthesized into something transferable. Just because he's on his way to being an immortal does not mean we're able to harvest it yet."

"Well that's another point we wanted to bring up, sir." another human interrupted, glancing down at their notes "We've done as you asked and prioritized patients with AB and O- blood types. With it we'll have enough donors to increase the rate of surgeries, while having potential test subjects on standby."

"Good. I want to start human trials of blood transfers once his cell replication reaches the 30x benchmark."

"Tracking, sir… but on that topic…" another human clicked a mouse on their computer to bring up the live feed of Brooklyn "...Patient Zero's cell should be ready to have him moved back within 48 hours; but, the girl… We weren't expecting him to interact with any of the other cattle while he was in the general population. Should we terminate her? We need Patient Zero's adrenaline levels to keep increasing if we're going to achieve any more progress."

Calvert mulled the thought over for a moment, before his sickly shoulders shrugged within his lab coat "...No… No no no. That won't be necessary. No…. In fact; I say this is the perfect time to introduce a new variable in the experiment." his thoughts were vocalized slowly. "We've seen this mule respond to the stick method… perhaps we should see if it responds to the carrot method as well." he stated simply "...After all. A muscle cannot grow if it is not given but a moment to relax."

A beep on Calvert's wristwatch diverted his attention "...log in your SITREPs for the day, I have a call to make."

0000oooo0000oooo0000

Bobbi had missed the company the instant the larger gargoyle petrified. Almost immediately the tears started to stream again. She didn't want to be left alone, not in here. Already the darkness and horror of the underground became more abysmal. The warmth he provided her - both body and spirit - she had never yearned for something more in all her life. It didn't matter that there was nothing he could do to save them from this situation, she at least had something to latch onto.

She covered her ears and shut her eyes, curling into a tighter fetal position as she willed with all her soul for time to accelerate and her new friend to burst back to life.

But there was something more she could do than will - she could pray. She steeled what little courage she could muster and brought her hands forth, making the sign of the cross over her body. All those sleepless nights on the streets, she spent every one of them praying for a savior, a protector, an angel in the night to come rescue her and her brother. She prayed for an angel to swoop down from the sky and look after them with all the love and care her own father should have given them.

Well… it seemed she had gotten a partial answer to that impossible prayer.

With what little faith she could find in the darkness, she tried to beg for something divine - for something to happen. She prayed for a miracle again. And only when she had mentally exhausted herself with fervent prayer did sleep finally take her.

0000oooo0000oooo0000

*FLASH*

Bobbi awoke with a startle. Her eyes snapped awake just in time to see Brooklyn's body pulse a neon red. This must be what happened when he woke up from stone sleep! She rolled as much as she could in the cramped safety of his wing, almost giddy to see him come alive again. The red light flashed a brilliant color, before it shot upwards and phased through the ceiling.

She waited for him to crack free from his stoney shell and burst forward… but nothing happened. Not even ten seconds after the red light had shot through the ceiling - a blinding flash of green materialized through the concrete ceiling overhead, slipped through the roof of Brooklyn's cage, and struck him with a brilliant glow.

But her renewed hope deflated when the green glow rippled across the surface of his body, only to fade away without any result.

He was still stone. He had promised her he'd wake up within a few hours, but hadn't told her any details in what signs to look for - but surely THAT was what his magically awakening was supposed to look like, right? What were those two random flashes of colored light, then?

She could do nothing but stare at his frozen face for what seemed like forever, there was no sign he was waking up again. Despite her best attempts to stay awake - exhaustion forced her into slumber again.

0000oooo0000oooo0000

*CRACK CRACK CRACK*

She woke up a second time. Cracks split and raced over Brooklyn's statue, beaming out strays of light. With a feral roar, he arched his back and jettisoned the shell of rock from his body. She opened her hands and words to greet him but-

"LEX!"

Brooklyn scrambled to his feet. He stood up so quickly, he slammed the crown of his skull into the thick metal overhead; he didn't seem to care. His eyes, glowing white, jerked around maddeningly. He snapped his head in every direction. Almost like he was looking for something.

"...Lex….. L-Lex?" he called out weakly.

He looked desperately in all directions, seeming to not even notice her as she sat up cautiously. His expressions slowly went gaunt in despair - whatever he called for was not to be found.

"...Brooklyn? Are you okay?"

He snapped his head down to her, his visible anguish hardening to a vacant look… then steeling to a determined grit. Something was different about him.

His eyes glanced around, mulling something over in his mind "Bobbi….." before locking his vision onto the floor, kneeling down to it "...I'm gonna get us outta here…"

Before she could even ask, his knees and joints popped as he started cranking out push-ups with his bony limbs. His long since unused muscles being forced into exercise again. He grit his teeth, his eyes fierce and expression sour "...I promise… I'm gonna break you out of here…"

0000oooo0000oooo0000

Brooklyn barely managed to register Bobbi's response. He ignored the pain he felt from putting his long, withered-away muscles through exertion again. He had to get out of here. He had to get Bobbi out of here…

It wasn't just about himself anymore. It wasn't about his own suffering, nor was it about the nameless people who died and suffered while he was helpless to save them. This was about an abandoned child whose death was not yet certain. This was about saving someone else. He had to muster the strength to fight. He had to get out. He had to escape.

This was about her. This was about….

...Him.

….He had to see him again.

"That wasn't a dream…" he thought to himself.

He had to see Lexington.

0000oooo0000oooo0000

"Yes Sir, I'm keeping my surveillance on the Labyrinth Clan…"

Human test subjects did not coalesce out the aether, but they did seem to coalesce out of the streets of New York.

Finding test subjects to be brought in for Project Immortal was easy when one had so many sources: homeless schizophrenics, cartel and gang members who their leaders needed to disappear, maybe even the stray drug addict here and there.

But there was one place that was just the jackpot for unwanted, easy to miss humans: The Labyrinth Clan.

Hundreds of homeless humans who scurried underneath ground to hide from the outside world? All of them moving in and out at random, making it impossible to notice someone missing? Dozens of access tunnels to abduct them down? Talon clearly had not considered that.

"I believe I have four subjects for this week…"

Wrapped in a blanket to conceal their head and mouth, they held the walkie-talkie to their lips just beneath the fabric. By sitting far off in the corner, it was impossible to notice anything suspicious: An Informant. Project Immortal's informant.

"-three males, one female. All four are recovering heroin addicts so their veins aren't much use, but their kidneys shoul-"

"No." Calvert's voice crackled back through the low-volume speaker "We don't need another batch for this week, Richardson."

"Sir?"

"Patient Zero's body hasn't rejected a new implant all week… from what we're seeing, he's able to regenerate full tissues on his own now. We don't have room for new patients."

"Copy sir. Should I wrap up here and head back?"

"No, we need you to continue surveillance on the Labyrinth Clan. We can't keep discreet surveillance of the Manhattan Clan while they continue to stay at Xanatos Enterprises, for now, the clones are our only method of monitoring them." papers ruffled on the opposite side of the walkie "Has the clan noticed the missing photo?"

"No sir, they never even noticed it missing in the first place."

"Good, because I'm looking at it right now and can't help but wonder if this is the original."

Richardson smirked slightly "You flatter me" he smugly responded. The night the clones succumbed to the Stone Flesh couldn't have been more of a boon. The entire clan, both Labyrinth and Manhattan, having gone to Sevarius's Estate together had left the Labyrinth completely unguarded and RIPE for snooping. The personal areas of the gargoyles were rife with areas to poke around in: personal correspondence, journals, and the like. But the scrapbook…?

"That picture of Malibu and Goliath was perfect, I was able to run up to the surface and make a copy of it at just the local postal office AND slip the original back into its place before the clan was even halfway back. Did it have the intended effect, Dr. Calvert?"

"Remarkably so. Patient Zero became far more pliant after we showed him that picture - once again, excellent thought for bringing that to us." he crooned "...Now on the topic of Malibu. Have you found its statue?"

"That's still a negative, but I'm down to two final locations. The clan took special care in concealing its body, not even the Manhattan Clan has been told where it is; Angela asked tonight if she co- OH MY!" He exclaimed at the sudden remembrance, quickly hushing himself and whispering back into the walkie "-Sir! I forgot to mention! I have an update."

"Go on."

"Angela and Maggie? They fought today. I don't know who threw the first strike, but they got physical."

"How physical?"

"Blood. Plenty of it."

Calvert's satisfied grin could practically be heard "Excelleeeeeent, the more the gargoyles fight each other. The less effective they search… they haven't gotten any leads have they?"

"Not that I've seen or heard."

"Status of the gargoyles?"

Richardson took another inspecting glance to ensure he wasn't being watched, keeping his lip movement minimum into the filthy fabric "Goliath is still frantically searching, but is still searching blind. Lexington, Hudson, and Angela are pretty much the same. Broadway has paired with Officer Elisa Maza for a more traditional investigation; but not much results there. We covered our tracks thoroughly."

"Hmphf." Calvert's amused snort came from the other side "They turn into stone on public buildings for all to see and are never found; for master's of 'hiding in plain sight', they never think someone else might try that. The Labyrinth clan doesn't think to check within their own ranks; and the Manhattan Clan?" he chuckled sinisterly...If only they'd thought to look a bit closer to home, they'd see he's so close…. So. Close."

Notes:
Oh my GOD that was a terrible chapter x.x Easily the one that has and WILL drag the longest. (Hence the reason this one took so long, I didn't wanna write it x.x)

I deleted and rewrote this chapter not once, but TWICE, just because I couldn't get the pacing how I wanted. Eventually, I just split it up and cut it in half.

The next chapter is already done and will be uploaded soon.