A Man from UNCLE/Gargoyles crossover story

The Man from UNCLE was an American television phenomenon that ran from 1964 to 1968 and featured the adventures of Napoleon Solo, a debonair American secret agent and his mysterious Russian partner, Illya Kuryakin. The show was full of improbable gadgetry, clever repartee and fast-moving plots as the partners saved the world time after time all in the space of one hour (at best in two). The good guys always won no matter how heinous, organized and well-funded their malevolent opposition 'Thrush' managed to be. The show was a huge hit world-wide and spawned an intensely loyal following of fans who continue writing the further adventures of Napoleon and Illya to this day. Disclaimer: All characters, places, situations, etc. from Gargoyles are the rightful property of Buena Vista Television. Likewise all characters, places, situations, etc. from The Man from UNCLE were property of MGM/UA.

The fog closed in rapidly around the skiff, sealing it off from the sound, sight and smell of the land they had just left. Wonder where we'll end up this time? thought Elisa Maza. She hunched her shoulders slightly, bringing the collar of her jacket up around her neck, as the familiar penetrating cold of 'between' enveloped the boat and its passengers.
 

The fog began to diminish but they remained in a soundless vacuum. Bronx whined in apprehension echoing the feelings that gripped the three other occupants of the boat. Goliath keened his ears listening for any sound that might give them a hint as to where they had landed this time. Nothing reached his ears but the sound of the cold water lapping against the hull as he poled the vessel.
 

The heavy fog began to diminish but the landscape that reached their eyes caused the three to gasp sharply. They traveled in a sluggish river, the water colored an unnatural rust-gray. The banks on either side showed no signs of life, no birds called their songs, no animals anywhere in sight. What had been a lush forest was now row upon row of downed branchless trunks as far as the eye could see, lain one upon the other like in rows like match sticks. The dull moonlight lent a cold, silver rime to the land, adding to its air of unreality.
 

"What IS this place?" whispered Angela aghast, uncertainty coloring her voice as she pulled her wings protectively tighter about her shoulders. She turned large, luminous eyes up toward her father.
 

"I sense an air of broken magic about this place," murmured Goliath his voice low and rough. He felt a palpable yet undefinable sense of danger about the place, a wrongness that urged him to move on.
 

"Pull over to the bank," requested Elisa urgently. "I think I see a metal sign there off to one side. Maybe that will give us a clue as to why we're here."
 

Nodding in silent agreement, the gargoyle leader powerfully poled the boat through the gray water to the grassless bank. Elisa leapt out smoothly and reaching up to the metal sign, rubbed the gray ash off its face. The sign was in three languages, English on the bottom, French in the middle and what she believed was Cyrillic lettering on the top. Russia? Were they in Russia?

The town name was 'Yadovoya Polya'. Something was familiar about that name, but what? She continued wiping the ash off the sign until at the very top she swiped at a chillingly familiar sigil. Another swipe revealed the rest of the sign. Her heart caught in her throat.
 

"We've got to get OUT of here," she yelled back to the boat. She pushed it back off the bank and leaped into the bow in one smooth move. "Quickly, Goliath, now!"
 

Hearing the urgency in her voice, the gargoyle leader began stroking the craft toward the center of the river. The water began to swirl ominously around them, rocking the boat dangerously.

"Elisa," he shouted over the gathering wind. "What is that symbol? Why did it disturb you so?" The wind whipped his hair about into his face.
 

"Radioactive," she shouted shrilly, trying to get her voice to carry across the storm. She clung to the side of the boat desperately. "We're in a contaminated zone. This is 'Yadovoya Polya', the 'fields of death'," she added with fear in her voice. "The site of the worst nuclear disaster the world has ever known. This area will bring death to anyone who goes near it for the next 200 years and we're right in the middle of it."
 

The howling wind was whipping ash into their eyes but Goliath could still see the yawning whirlpool that opened in front of the boat. "Hang on!" he called as he dug in with the punt and tried to veer the boat away from the danger. He became suddenly aware that the Phoenix Gate in the bag on his hip was resonating in time to the swirling of the pool. This was no mere whirlpool but a rupture in time, and they were being drawn inexorably into it.
 

Goliath and Angela cloaked their wings together protectively over Elisa and a whining Bronx as time shattered around them. The howling maelstrom was abruptly replaced by airless silence as they dropped into the temporal eddy.
 

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Goliath was the first one to realize that they had exited the time storm. He recloaked his wings as the total silence lightened to the sound of becalmed river water lapping against the sides of the boat. The lifting fog slowly revealed the same riverbanks as before but now tree-lined. Night birds flew past and small animals scurried through the woods as a clean silver half-moon shone down on them, giving no indication of the previous violent storm.
 

"Oh, my ears are still ringing," complained Elisa to no one in particular, shaking her head vigorously. Shielding her eyes with the back of her hand she alerted to a substantial construction site on the far riverbank. They were clearly in the same area at before but the question of the moment was 'when' were they? Well before the accident or centuries afterwards? She indicated to Goliath to pole toward the rocky outcropping along the river so she could investigate further.
 

A natural cave leading to river appeared to be the best temporary harbor for the boat. "We shall moor the boat here," decided the gargoyle leader, directing Angela to stay with the vessel. After a brief consultation, Elisa and Bronx set out stealthily to scout the half-finished concrete structure. Goliath climbed the rough stone of the mountainside to launch himself off onto high patrol behind them.
 

The detective slipped past the chain link fence around the parking lot and took note of the models of the cars in the parking lot. Either the locals were having a major antique car fest or this was sometime in the late 1960s. Elisa remembered the exact date of the Yadovaya Polya explosion and a chill ran through her "I have a bad feeling about this", she muttered to Bronx.
 

Hearing the sound of stealthy footsteps nearby, she flattened silently against one of the supply trucks just as two men dressed in black slipped past her toward the fortress-like building. The lead man was mid-30s, trim and dark-haired with expressive dark eyes. A stray lock of his carefully trimmed hair fell down across his forehead as he walked on. At first glance, he looked like someone who would be more at home in a cocktail party than a break-in, but Elisa's detective senses alerted her to the controlled danger in his movements. His determined eyes were fixed on the fortress like structure ahead.
 

The other man was his partner. There was no doubt they were partners, she had seen the same resonance and silent communication between too many members of longtime patrol teams in the police department to not recognize it in this pair. Slightly smaller, the lithe blond man's hair was cut in a shaggy 'Beatles' cut, most of which he had stuffed under a black stocking cap. He carried a length of rope and a grappling hook over one shoulder. Both men carried special make pistols of a style she didn't recognize offhand. She could tell however that the pistols were more similar to a Luger than to any policeman's or military model weapon of the era. Assassins or well-armed cat burglars? she puzzled .
 

As the second man passed close by her hiding place, she caught sight of his pale-blue eyes scanning the darkness in her direction as he if sensed her hiding in the dark shadows. She caught her breath, and put her hand down to still Bronx. After a brief pause, the blond man shook his head and moved on to catch up with his colleague.
 

The pair approached the building silently and the smaller man expertly tossed the grappling hook up to the roof and fixed the line down. Elisa waited and watched as they climbed smoothly up rope to an unfinished upper floor of the structure and pulled themselves inside an unglassed window frame. Looking around for witnesses and finding none she told Bronx, "Let's go, boy," and pointed up after the men. As the gargoyle beast began steadily climbing the concrete side of the building, the detective clung strongly to his neck. Beats shinnying up a rope, she told herself.
 

Swooping slowly past on a slow circular patrol, Goliath saw Elisa trailing after the men and felt a slight tremor of worry pass over his mind. She has a warrior's heart, of that there was no doubt, but humans are such fragile things. Too easily broken. He wished this human in particular would be more careful with her own safety.
 

Elisa flattened herself against the wall as the men continued their infiltration down the hallway. One of the locked metal doors on one side of the large central hall appeared to be their destination. The dark-haired man pressed a block of some sort of plastique to the door as his partner inserted a triggering wire. Both took cover as the magnesium flare of the material began to burn the lock off the door. Startled by the fire, Bronx let out a piercing howl as the light dazzled his sensitive eyes.
 

Pandemonium broke out. Klaxon alarms began to whoop as brilliant flood lights split the night all around the open interior hallway, startling Bronx even more and increasing the amount of noise he was making. The two infiltrators stared in amazement behind them at the gargoyle beast, then at Elisa just as the heavy hallway doors behind her were slammed open. Out ran a small army of beret-clad guards carrying rifles with large night-scopes. She noted that all the guards were wearing uniform jumpsuits with a black bird motif sewn over one pocket.
 

The detective waded into the group, and dropped the first two guards with well placed karate kicks. On down the hall, the two infiltrators paused briefly. The dark-haired man began to turn back to assist her in her battle but was stopped by the blond-man putting his hand on one arm and whispering something intensely to him. The dark-haired man nodded and the two ran for the rope.
 

Bronx waded into the armed guards but not before two nearest the door grabbed Elisa from behind and dragged her, still battling fiercely, backwards through the nearby metal door. Three guards were dropped unconscious to the floor by the gargoyle beast's ferocious attack as he rushed the door, too late to stop it from slamming shut. Pounding against the metal door, Bronx dented it but could not break through.
 

Goliath having heard the alarms swooped onto the rooftop just in time to see Elisa dragged inside the doorway. As he pounded on the door, he saw the first glimmers of dawn appearing over the horizon. "I will return for you, my Elisa," he promised her quietly through the closed door, his heart aching at having to leave her behind. Changing tack, he flew determinedly after the two men he had seen fleeing. Bronx following close after.
 

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin sprinted to the river cave in record time. Whatever was going on behind them had allowed them a complete escape. The cave they had chosen was a perfect hideout while they investigated Thrush activities at the site. If intelligence reports were correct, this breeder reactor could prove to be a fatal mistake on the part of the host country allowing it to be built. It was up to UNCLE to prove that before the reactor became reality.
 

Putting his hands on his knees, the dark-haired man gulped in great lungfuls of air. "What WAS that thing?" asked Solo. Illya, equally winded after the escape, shook his head.
 

Sensing a movement behind him, Solo whipped around and drew his pistol, striving to focus his still-dazzled eyes. He felt his pistol slapped away by a hand too large and too clawed to belong to anything human. Before he could mount a defense, he was lifted off his feet by his jacket front.
 

"What have you done with Elisa?!!" bellowed Goliath directly at the white-faced agent. Solo opened his mouth but no sound came out.
 

Illya Kuryakin edged in from the side, gun in hand, to aid his partner. He did not see the pair of glowing red eyes approaching him quietly from the shadows. "I wouldn't recommend it," growled Angela, leaping forward panther-like and wrapping the blond in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his side.
 

Solo continued to struggle with Goliath, toppling the pair of them to the cave floor. The gargoyle leader, recovered his balance quickly and seized the kneeling agent by both wrists just as the sun's rays reached inside the cave. Before the amazed men's eyes, both winged creatures and the snarling gargoyle beast turned to silent stone.
 

A long silence followed punctuated only by the sound of the two operatives' ragged breaths. "Illya", panted Solo finally, "What just happened here?" He jerked back and forth vigorously to no avail, struggling to free his forearms from the stone statue's grasp.

"Well, they don't appear to be mechanical," offered the blond Russian, also twisting in an attempt to work his way free. "Perhaps the results of some Thrush bio-engineering experiment?"
 

"Between what? Bela Lugosi and a T-rex?", opined the senior operative. "Look at the teeth on this one," he shuddered, looking up at the fangs in Goliath's contorted face. "This one seems older than yours by a substantial margin, and a different gender. And they weren't fighting alongside the Thrush guards. They look like something off the roof of the Notre Dame cathedral."
 

"Perhaps they are," offered his partner. "Russian legends populate these woods with all sorts of fantastical creatures. My grandparents used to recount all sorts of legends of otherworldly beings to me in an effort to keep me in my bed in the evening, " supplied Kuryakin.
 

"Oh great, so we've been cornered by the Russian Boogeyman, his little sister and their faithful devil-dog 'Spot''," joked Solo grimly. "I don't think I'm going to be able to pull my way free here, " he said, tugging against the rock hands.

"At least your feet are on the floor. This young lady creature has me dangling in mid-air," carped his partner, waving his feet to demonstrate.
 

"Foxes will sometimes chew off a paw to get free of a trap," joked the senior agent darkly, staring at the stone grip around his wrists.
 

"This petrification occurred right at dawn," noted the Russian, ignoring the jest. Illya had already given up trying to topple his well balanced captor and now just hung dismally in her embrace. "Perhaps it will reverse itself at sundown," he analyzed logically.
 

"Then this thing wakes up angry all over again?" shuddered the senior agent unhappily, looking up at the stone mask of rage mere inches in front of his face. "I'd rather be somewhere else at sundown, thank you."
 

"Then you'd better get busy chewing, Napoleon," offered the blond flatly, "Because otherwise, I think we're here for the day."
 

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The two agents had several hours to plan their strategy for sundown assuming that their captors would 'awake' from their stone sleep at that time. They considered using the blond agent's gun to stun the three creatures when they awoke. The specially fitted pistol was still in his hand. The likelihood was remote that he could tranquilize all three of the creatures before the large one holding Solo, seeing that for the attack that it was, pulled him apart.
 

They considered continuing trying to tip them over in their statue state and shattering their way free. But the agents realized that if they did un-petrify at sundown, then they may bleed to death if any major limbs shattered off. The female at least had not shown any signs of overt hostility. The male holding Napoleon had been angry but not immediately disassembled the operative as his musculature indicated he was capable of doing. His concern had been for his captured friend 'Elisa', indicating sentience on their part.
 

All things considered, Solo decided to play on his instincts that these whatever-they-weres could be reasoned with. Well at least two of them, thought Solo twisting around to look at the stone rottweiler-from-hell standing on four legs near him. Actually, if you looked at the quadruped in the right light, he rather resembled their UNCLE boss, Mr. Waverly, especially in the face. Like I said before, two of them looked like they could be reasoned with, he thought to himself, remembering his last session with his boss over mission expenditures.
 

Sundown darkened the skies none too soon for the stiffly imprisoned operatives. A web of cracks began in the skin of the stone trio and soon they arched skyward, roaring loudly. The UNCLE agents took advantage of the sudden release to back quickly away a discreet distance from the two winged creatures.
 

Growling low in his throat, Goliath again advanced menacingly toward the pair, prepared to resume his interrogation of dark-haired man. The gargoyle leader was startled when Solo, cranking up his charisma, stuck out his right hand and asked pleasantly, "What do we call you, big guy?" Angela's eyes widened. Bronx stopped growling and turned his head curiously. Illya remained determinedly silent, carefully out of the gargoyle's reach.
 

Goliath was taken aback. Not only had this human happened upon one of Elisa's favorite names for the gargoyle leader, but he appeared to be accepting him at face value as a rational being. This was not normal human behavior. It made him very suspicious.
 

"My name is Solo, Napoleon Solo, " continued the agent, pressing his advantage. "And my reticent friend here is Illya Kuryakin. We're from UNCLE, the United Network Command for Law Enforcement. We seek to protect...."
 

"Protect? Law Enforcement?" rumbled Goliath suddenly, in a much more cultured voice, than either operative had anticipated. "Are you police officers? Elisa's clan?" He leaned forward to peer intently at the pair, as if trying to detect a similarity to this 'Elisa'. Napoleon assumed it had to be the young woman who had been captured during the infiltration attempt.
 

"Well, not police... exactly... but we are definitely enforcement officers," he offered. Tentatively taking Goliath's taloned hand in his own he shook it in a friendly if careful manner. "Let me explain our mission to you over some supper...," he said leading the gargoyle by the shoulder to the rear of the cave where their provisions lay stacked.
 

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"So this 'Thrush' is an organization bent on world domination at any cost," repeated the gargoyle leader thoughtfully. He speared a slice of peach out of an open tin offered to him by the blond agent. Delicately he tasted it, noting the not disagreeable flavor.
 

Napoleon nodded, continuing to munch away on the 'Cookie Bar, 1 each" out of the C-rations he and Illya had brought for the assignment. Solo, who had always liked 'dogs, ' had already earned Bronx's undying affection by sharing his 'Beanie Weenies' entree, peanut butter & crackers and fruit cocktail mix with the gargoyle beast. Bronx, seeing that Solo's meal was now gone, edged closer to the blond agent, his ears perked expectantly forward. Illya hunched his back and turned aside as the blue beast snuffled at his plate.
 

"Careful Bronx," called Solo teasingly. "Don't get in between Illya and food. He bites." Goliath looked alarmed and began to intercede. "No, no, no... joke, Goliath, joke," added the senior UNCLE agent quickly, putting a carefully restraining hand on the gargoyle. "He won't really bite, just snarl a little maybe." The Russian shot his partner a venomous look and returned to feeding.
 

Angela, was still nibbling at her meal, valiantly trying to down the reconstituted dried 'Ham and Eggs' entree from her C-rations. She did not want to seem rude in this her first meal with humans outside of Avalon, but this 'food' was quite unappealing. Stealthily she slipped her entree to Bronx as well. She would slip out later and hunt a rabbit. Even raw it would taste better than this. But the 'hot cocoa mix' was a delight to be savored, she decided as she took another sip of the brew.
 

"Thrush is working with the local government to construct a 'breeder reactor' here in Russia, we believe for the purpose of producing weapons grade plutonium. " At the gargoyles' blank looks, he explained, "Fuel for a bomb of enormous destructive potential. Capable of obliterating all life for several miles around it in a firestorm."
 

The trained eyes of the two UNCLE agents noticed the involuntary jerk of recognition in the two winged creatures at the description of the bomb's destructive capabilities. "Do you know something about this bomb of which we ought to be aware?" asked the Russian agent urgently in his lightly accented voice.
 

"Suffice it to say that we too have been sent here on a mission, though we are not at liberty to say by whom or from where," stated Goliath firmly. The two agents exchanged speculative glances.
 

"Reports have reached us that some group is apparently sabotaging the reactor building construction, destroying large sections of the underground building in mysterious night-time raids. We came to investigate and help whoever it is stop this project," continued Solo seriously.
 

"The reactor site sits atop a cavern of some size, of which this cave is only the topmost portion. It was after the construction team broke through into the caves that the destruction began. Any ideas on who or what might be behind the sabotages?" asked the blond man curiously.
 

"No idea whatsoever," responded the gargoyle leader honestly. "Our immediate concern is freeing our friend Elisa Maza from that building, so we can continue our quest and leave this place. Will you help us?"
 

"Very well," agreed the senior agent. "Why don't Angela and I effect 'Elisa's' rescue from the construction site, while you and Illya investigate the caves for a further connection?"
 

Goliath arched a single eyebrow and considered the suggestion. The idea of sending his daughter out alone with the dark-haired one did not sit well with him for some reason. Perhaps it was because Solo with his easy confidence and dangerous smile reminded him too much of Xanatos. The other man, his blond-haired companion with the secretive ways and sky-colored eyes, reminded the gargoyle leader much of Owen Burnett. Of the two, he felt that Angela would be better off with the Russian.
 

"I will go with you to the building to free Elisa, and Angela will accompany your partner to the caves," decided Goliath abruptly. "Shall we leave now, the night hours are wasting."
 

Illya shot Solo a quiet smile. It would appear that fathers of all species had an instinctive mistrust of his partner. As he watched Bronx trot merrily after the dark-haired agent, he also considered that for whatever reason 'dogs' of all species tended to adore him. He just hoped this big blue one didn't decide to follow him home.
 

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The purple gargoyle leader landed almost silently on the fortress rooftop and sat the dark-haired agent on his feet. Napoleon was glad the short flight to the rooftop was over. He didn't trust Goliath's ability to keep himself aloft, let alone the two of them. The brief history of the clan that the leader had recounted had almost seemed almost too fantastical to the agent to believe. Still here they were 'in the flesh' and so far they seemed to be at least tentatively on the UNCLE agents' side. He decided to proceed with caution nonetheless.
 

He looked over at Goliath's fierce countenance and asked, "Are you always this glum?"
 

Goliath, without changing expression answered flatly, "No, sometimes I am worse."
 

Napoleon grinned at the response and thinking of his taciturn partner, asked "You wouldn't happen to be a Russian gargoyle, would you?"
 

"No," responded the gargoyle leader deadpan. "We are from Scotland."
 

"Oh, well, that explains it then...." quipped Solo, amused that Goliath shot him an indignant look at the remark. Looking around at the roof at the entry options present, he mused. "I need to get into this air duct. How are you with removing covers?"
 

Without missing a beat, Goliath dug talons from both hands into the plate metal of the hatch and peeled it back like tin foil. As he wrenched it off, the metal screamed in protest.
 

"Oh-kay then, that problem is solved," stated the agent, hiding his amazement. "According to the schematics we purloined, this air duct should get me everywhere I need to go. I will spring your friend and we'll return here to the roof as soon as possible. Are you sure you can fly out of here with two people?"
 

"Positive," responded the gargoyle.
 

"Good," said Solo, still unconvinced. Tying a rope off to a rooftop pipe, he began lowering himself down the air duct. "Should something happen that I don't return immediately, please get your friend out of here safely. This is our fight and I don't want any non-combatants injured along the way."
 

"Mr. Solo," began Goliath, "Thank you and ...uh... good luck. Please bring Elisa back safely."
 

As the agent made eye contact with the gargoyle leader, he realized how deeply Goliath was concerned with this 'Elisa'. "Consider it done, Goliath. Just keep your engine warmed up, we might have to leave out of here rather abruptly." He slipped silently down the duct.
 

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Elisa felt like she had dropped into a James Bond movie. She had spent the day under bright lights answering innumerable rounds of questions from the security officer. This group, "Thrush' they called themselves, seemed convinced that she belonged to some opposing spy group named 'UNCLE'. They dismissed her police ID as a forgery, accused her of outlandish activities concerning their operations, and promised her that she was going to be transferred to Thrush HQ for 'more intensive questioning'. They had returned her to this cell under promises that the lead scientist would be returning to the site this very evening and he would want to question her himself. She didn't like the sound of that.
 

But on the plus side, she had got a hot meal for once, while isolated in her cell had got a few minutes sleep on a real mattress. All things considered, she had spent worse days, but she was dreading the meeting with the scientist from headquarters. Scientists tended to be inventive.
 

The grating of the ceiling vent began to spark and burn quietly over her head. Maybe the cavalry has arrived, she deduced. Black-gloved hands broke the grating loose outward into the room, then retrieved it silently back up into the duct crawl space. The dark-haired man she had seen the previous evening popped his head downward into the room and grinned in a friendly manner. "Your coach awaits, milady," he whispered gallantly. "Someone large and purple is most anxious to see you."
 

Solo slid to the floor on a length of rope and steadied it, allowing Elisa to begin climbing up to the ceiling opening. "Follow the rope to the roof," he directed. "I'll be right behind....."
 

The cell door slammed open as three Thrush rushed into the cell. Solo dropped the lead guard with a well placed punch and ordered the policewoman, "Go, GO! I'll follow if I can." Elisa pulled herself into the air vent and scrambled down the passageway rapidly on hands and knees.
 

More guards spilled into the room and despite a valiant fight, Solo fell under the numbers. As the agent was wrenched back to his feet, still struggling, as the expected Thrush headman sauntered into the room. A slight smile played across the newcomer's lips.
 

"Fetch the girl," he drawled indolently. "She won't be able to get far, we have the building surrounded." He then turned to face his captive.
 

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On the roof, Goliath was startled by the floodlights flashing to life. He peered over the side of the building to the ground below, now swarming with armed guards. As a familiar dark head popped out of the air duct , he breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Elisa, " he called firmly drawing her attention to him.
 

"Goliath, that man who saved me," she breathed heavily, "I think he was taken by the guards. We need to go back and help him." She started back into the duct as several uniformed men appeared burst from the roof hatches and began sweeping the area for the intruders. Goliath seeing the danger of them being captured as well, gathered the protesting detective into his arms and launched himself off the roof before the Thrush men could focus on them in the bright lights. The amazed guards watched their flight, their mouths agape.
 

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"Napoleon Solo, we meet again," murmured the labcoat-clad Thrush leader cheerfully. His voice was thick with a heavy German accent. "How I have anticipated our rematch. I've never quite forgiven you and your little Russian friend for trying to blow up our installation while I was working for Marshall Gurnius in South America two years ago. I owe you this and so much more." He approached the agent and back-handed him sharply across the face.
 

"Ah, Dr. Anton Sevarius," replied Solo in the same mock gracious tone. He tried to wipe the blood away from his split lip but his hand was jerked back and behind him by one of the guards on either side of him. "We hoped that you had gotten blown up along with Gurnius and his toy when the observatory went up in flames. More's the pity." The guard cuffed him roughly in retaliation for the statement.
 

"I don't suppose you would be willing to tell us how much you have learned about our current plans, would you?" Solo responded with a half-smile and braced for another blow which did not arrive. "No, I thought not. Well, as it turns out, we have made the most amazing discovery while drilling our reactor core into the nearby caverns. I'd like to introduce you to it. Perhaps you would like to spend the night with it, in fact."
 

Motioning the guards down the hall, Sevarius followed after, chatting amiably. "I came here as project director because Thrush asked me if I wanted to explore the effects of radiation on human and animal tissue. The breeder reactor seemed a good spot to do that while also producing vast amounts of very marketable weapons grade plutonium." he chatted. "Yes, I thought you had already knew that part," he said analyzing Solo's professionally neutral look.
 

"But then we made this most remarkable discovery. Actually it discovered us. We caught it demolishing some of the buildings one night. Its not been every cooperative. In fact it has savaged several of my guards who have tried to get near it." Sevarius was quite enjoying his attempt to discomfort the agent. Solo continued to fighting his captors every step of the way down the hall.
 

The group dragged the uncooperative agent over to a highly reinforced cell at the end of the block. Two guards continued to pin him while a third unbolted the huge door. "And now with your cooperation, or even without it, we will have your genetic complement to experiment with as well. How excellent. We should be able to produce some intriguing hybrids between the two of you. That is if there's enough of you left by morning to work with," chortled the scientist.
 

With a combined heave, the two guards pitched Solo roughly into the dimly lit cell. Landing off balance, he sprawled face down across something large crouched against the far wall. His dazed mind tried to process the odd images he was receiving. Whatever he had landed atop was huge.... fever-warm... breathing.... scale-covered... and ...ohmigod... .!!! He scrambled backwards not stopping until his back was up against the far steel wall of the cell. Whatever he had landed on scrambled just as rapidly in the opposite direction. Last night living gargoyles and now I'm caged with a... caged with a.... what?
 

He crouched low on his toes, one hand pressed against the steel floor in case he should need to make a sudden dodge, and fought to focus his eyes in the dim light. Slowly the nervously shifting creature came into greater detail.
 

The beast was about the size of a large draft horse and was totally covered in huge shimmering silver-green scales. It was crouched low on four powerfully muscled legs, each ending in a huge high-arched paw. Each foot in turn was graced with a full set of jet-black talons that would have put a Bengal tiger to shame. The huge creature was anxiously clicking those claws in a rhythmic staccato as it paced back and forth studying the agent in return.
 

A long elegant tail trailed behind the creature following its circle-eight path as it eyed him. A long sinuous neck was topped by a robust three-foot long head with high arched eye sockets and head ridges. A mawful of curved teeth peeked out of its mouth as it inhaled noisily. Its nostrils flared as it snuffed his direction.
 

Trying to see what I'll taste like, stated his mind's pessimistic side.
 

A stiff leathery frill folded and unfolded rhythmically behind the beast's head. Undersized wings tipped with short curved wing spurs were folded daintily along its back. It looked like... but it couldn't be... they only occurred in fairy tales, yet here was one staring him down like a pro. This had been one of the weirdest days of his not unexciting life, he thought dizzily.
 

The creature's most compelling features were its huge luminescent eyes, whirling in rainbow colors as they stared directly at the agent. He felt his gaze drawn into those eyes, felt himself drowning in them, and realized too late that his mind was getting distinctly fuzzy. He vaguely remembered something about snakes mesmerizing their prey in this way just before they devoured them.
 

A sudden wash of energy pulsed through him as the whirling of the creature's eyes began to accelerate even faster. He felt muzzy as a myriad of his memories came tumbling to the fore, happy events he had almost forgotten, losses he would have rather forgotten, friends, laughter, tears, pains, joy and through it woven his unfailing hope in the future. He was so dazed by this maelstrom of memory that he was badly startled when, from out of nowhere, a resonant voice rang inside his head. In a musical multi-toned voice it warbled "Melisande is afraid!"
 

Napoleon snapped back in surprise. He realized that he had somehow just been scanned and judged for his merit. Being as his head hadn't been summarily bitten off, it would appear that he had been found an acceptable companion. He shared the creature's fear through the odd link. Scratch that, the proper word was 'dragonette' not creature his mind corrected him. And its... her.. name was Melisande... and she needed a friend and defender desperately. Despite his initial trepidation and despite the strangeness of the situation, Solo's protective nature was struck by her appeal for a paladin.
 

'Melisande' stopped her anxious pacing, crouched low and began to croon mournfully. The sound tugged at Solo's heart and without conscious thought, he got up and edged closer to the creature, still crouched on his toes. He reached a comforting hand out cautiously toward the little dragon and began to rub the ridges atop her huge head in what he hoped she interpreted as a friendly gesture. His breath caught in his throat when several hundred pounds of dragon, accepting this overture, suddenly lunged at him. Melisande encircled the agent in a rush, plopping her huge head down forcefully into his lap, knocking him into a sitting position.
 

When his heart came down out of his throat, Solo tentatively reached down to resume scratching the dragon behind the brow ridges. She hummed her appreciation, closing her eyes and rumbling in bliss. Napoleon was reminded of the purring of a housecat, a huge green-scaled housecat that could eat a Doberman in two bites. As she sighed contentedly and he smiled lightly. His partner was always accusing him of bringing home strays, well this stray would be one to write home about.
 

--------------------
 

Angela and Illya returned from their exploration of the uppermost levels of the cave. They had noted that significant damage had been done to the Thrush construction attempts beneath the reactor building. Angela's ability to climb rock faces had proven very handy in the cavern, allowing them to cover and map a large amount of the cave without special climbing equipment. One lower passageway seemed to be at the nexus of the damage, and Illya had ear-marked that for a return trip with Napoleon during the day while the gargoyles hibernated.
 

Shortly before dawn, Elisa and Goliath returned with the news that although Elisa had been successfully freed, Napoleon had been captured in her place. It was not unexpected to the Russian. His partner always seemed to be playing the hero when young ladies were involved, often to his own detriment. Once again, Kuryakin sighed, I will have to bail him out. The Russian worried that sooner or later his partner's incredible luck would fail him, and there would be no rescue possible.
 

While Elisa and Goliath shared their discoveries about this quest, Illya retreated to one of the lanterns to devise his plan of attack on the fortress. Angela was drawn to his quiet man and his work.

"You are worried that Napoleon has been taken prisoner," analyzed Angela gently, watching as the blond man cleaned his pistol in the lantern light of the cave. The agent was applying a little too much attention and vigor to the job, much as Princess Katherine had applied herself to her weaving when she had problems on her mind. "Your clan ties are strong, it is good."
 

"Clan?" questioned Kuryakin, curiously, not looking up. "Do you mean family? No, we are not related by blood." He bent to the task of re-assembling his weapon, disturbed by her scrutiny.
 

"No clan is not 'family', well not exactly. The young gargoyle paused as she gathered her thoughts for a proper definition. 'Clan' are those to whom you owe your loyalty, those with whom you share a common purpose in life, those whose well-being means as much to if not more to you than your own. The words are not easy. We gargoyles have lived in clans since anyone can remember. The clan is our strength. To be without clan is to be worse than dead...." Her eyes saddened as she thought of her mother Demona.
 

Illya was touched by the sincerity of the young female's analysis. By the gargoyle definition, he supposed that he and his UNCLE partner were indeed 'clan'. The bond of friendship between he and Solo was indeed strong and both had risked their lives multiple times in the common purpose of world security that was UNCLE's mission. He remembered his own life before the 'belonging' that UNCLE had brought him.
 

"Yes, I suppose we are indeed 'clan' after all," he admitted. "And you are very perceptive, Angela. Being clan is good."
 

--------------------
 

The first rays of dawn once again locked the gargoyle trio in stone sleep as Illya watched with incredulity. "That never ceases to amaze me either," said Elisa in a tired voice, coming up beside him. "I don't know about you but I'm beat," she yawned. "Is it true you are from the UNCLE?" She settled tailor-seat on the ground beside the lantern.
 

"Yes, quite true," replied Kuryakin cautiously. "Is it true you are a New York City police detective?" He took a seat opposite the lantern from her. She nodded.
 

"Where do you live in New York?" asked the detective casually. "Maybe I know the neighborhood"
 

"I have a small loft in The Village, near the Bohemian Jazz Club. Know the place?" asked the blond man calmly, testing her.
 

"Oh yeah," she yawned in response, her eyes starting to droop with fatigue. "That's the place that burned to the ground in the mid 1980s...." she stopped abruptly, realizing what she had just revealed.
 

"The 1980s?" repeated the Russian in an odd tone. A long pause followed. "Perhaps you had better explain to me once again how you arrived here..."
 

--------------------
 

"...And we get shuttled wherever Avalon decides we are necessary to right a wrong, to repair the magic of a place," concluded Elisa Maza. "I know it sounds fantastic, you probably think I'm insane..."
 

"No, quite the opposite. This is the first thing that has made sense in several days," contradicted the UNCLE agent. "Do you remember the date of the 'Yadovaya Polya' explosion by any chance?" he asked, hiding the anxiety in his voice.
 

"Yes it was April 7th, 1964," replied the woman, tossing her dark mane over one shoulder.

"I remember because being told it happened on my grandmother's 50th birthday. My father and mother were newlyweds and they were at my grandmother Esperanza Maza's house when the news report came on. News reports said it obliterated a 25 square mile area around the epicenter."

The Russian agent paused briefly then added with calm chill, "April 7th, 1964 is tomorrow. And if I had to guess I'd say we are currently at that epicenter."
 

--------------------
 

In the morning the Thrush guards unlocked the door to Solo's cell and peered in cautiously. They expected to find the UNCLE agent either in pieces or in a much more receptive mood toward answering their questions. Their mouths gaped open when instead they found the dozing agent being guarded by a circle of solid dragon, a dragon whose eyes were now whirling threateningly at the sight of the intruders. "We would like our breakfast now," stated Solo firmly.
 

--------------------
 

After catching a few hours sleep, the Russian agent and the New York detective continued their exploration of the caves while the gargoyles hibernated. Elisa's skilled eyes detected more signs of sabotage as they returned to the chimney opening that Illya had decided to investigate the previous evening.
 

"Look there, it looks like huge claw marks," pointed out the woman. Illya had dismissed these as gouges made by some sort of equipment, but on closer investigation he decided that the policewoman was right. They were too evenly deeply gouged to have been made by any mechanical device.
 

"I've got used to looking for gargoyle sign at home," she admitted, sheepishly.
 

"Your New York must be an interesting place in which to dwell." commented Illya quietly. The blond man tied off his climbing rope to a stone pillar and prepared to descend into the lower cave. "Please keep guard here in the upper level while I explore the lower reaches," he requested. "This area may be patrolled by Thrush and we do not want to run into any more of their number than we already have, da?"
 

"Uh... da, I mean yes," agreed Elisa. "If you need help, just tug on the rope and I'll be there in a heartbeat." She tucked her sweep of dark hair behind one ear and canted her head at him.
 

"Spasibo... thank you," said Illya, looking up at her curiously.
 

"Break a leg," called the dark-haired woman as he began to slide down the rope. She grinned as he stopped suddenly and stared up at her, shocked. "It means 'good luck,'" she explained, sincerely.
 

"Americans," he sighed, thinking how much this woman reminded him of his partner. Hand over hand, he descended into the midnight blackness of the lower cavern.

--------------------
 

The darkness of the cave made progress difficult as the Russian agent picked his way among smooth ghostlike stalactites and jeweled outcroppings of stone. Looking back several yards, he could still see the lantern beam that Elisa was shining down the rope to give him a reference point. It seemed very far away in the absolute darkness.
 

It was very warm in these lower levels. There must be geothermal activity here, he conjectured. Sparkling reflections from crystals met his eyes with every pass of the lantern. Across a shimmering pool, he made out a large ledge and on that ledge he could detect another pair of glowing stones, set perhaps 6 foot apart. Squinting in the darkness he realized those were not stones but eyes... huge eyes, eyes belonging to a......
 

"Bozhe moj!" he squeaked, realizing his danger. He turned to run, adrenaline feeding his speed, but he only cleared a few steps. The sound of something huge rushed up behind him. If he could just make it to the rope he might still have a chance.
 

Illya found himself tackled hard from behind, hit solidly by something fast-moved and approximately the size of a schoolbus. His UNCLE Special and the backpack of tools he carried went skidding across the floor out of his reach. The agent landed chest-down on the stone floor of the cave, the impact knocking the wind out of him. A huge clawed foot slammed down onto his back pinning him efficiently to the floor and holding him fast. He braced for the expected set of jaws ripping him apart.
 

But nothing else happened. All he could hear was his own ragged breath and the bellowing of a huge set of lungs far too large to belong to any real creature.

The Russian quickly scanned his memory for any folktales about dragon behavior that his babushka might have told him. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Illya raised his head and said politely, "Good day, friend dragon!"
 

"What?" came the dragon's puzzled reply, its scales rustling drily as it snapped its head back in surprise.
 

"I said 'Good day, friend dragon'. Is that not the proper greeting?"
 

The dragon sinuously stretched its neck to peer at the creature under its foot. It snuffed at him delicately, ruffling his blond hair. Its hot breath had a definite sulfur undertone but the Russian agent was relieved that no flames shot out his direction. The huge talons on either side of his head clicked in succession as it lifted them to peer at him, its eyes rapid swirls on rainbow color.
 

"Why aren't you screaming?" the creature asked, plainly intrigued. "And where is your suit of armor and your sword?"
 

"I did not come to slay, friend dragon. I came seeking," ventured the agent hopefully.
 

"Oh, a sorcerer then, " snarled the dragon, its bronze scales bristling. "Even worse with your spells of binding and your thirst for dragon's blood....."
 

"No, no, no," interjected the blond man placatingly, "Not that either. I am merely a seeker of the truth, I come seeking knowledge, to solve a mystery.... "
 

The words seemed to calm the great creature. With exquisite care, it groomed its other paw, like a housecat will vigorously groom itself to draw attention from an embarrassing lapse of manners. In a professional tone, it stated, "You are a scholar then. What is your area of expertise?".
 

"May I please sit up, honored dragon? It is hard to maintain one's dignity mashed face down on the cave floor," requested the operative with extreme delicacy.
 

"Of course, pardon my manners." The dragon removed its paw immediately. "I'm so used to muscle-bound oafs rushing in here trying to spear me to slice me to ribbons that I had almost forgotten how to treat a guest. It has been so long since I had a worthy visitor. By what title are you called, friend scholar? It has been such a very long time since I spoke with one of your kind that I had almost forgotten your tongue." She stretched her wings decoratively and settled into a more comfortable position.
 

"There are those that call me 'Illya Nikovetch Kuryakin, Agent of UNCLE' " responded the Russian with great dignity. If he remembered correctly, dragons were impressed by multi-syllabic appellations.
 

"Yew en see ell ee " it repeated savoring the sounds on her tongue. "Yes, it is a fitting name for a scholar. I am called 'Doukhobora' by some," added the creature proudly.
 

"Spirit Wrestler," translated Illya aloud in the same savoring tone. He made mental note of the -a ending on the name, 'Madam Spirit Wrestler,' he corrected silently. "A strong and wise name for a strong and wise dragon", he praised. Hanging around with Napoleon all these years had not left him totally lacking in the decorum game. The female dragon preened her neck in open pleasure at the compliment.
 

"May I tell you the tale of what brought me here?" he inquired in a courtly manner. Dragons, he knew, could not resist a good bardic tale of adventure and quest. He noted with satisfaction that she immediately cocked her head alertly and leaned forward toward him. He had his audience.

"Long ago on a continent far, far away two noble wizards, one dark of countenance and one fair, were set to a quest....."
 

--------------------
 

"Elisa," called Illya up the rope, "There's someone here I'd like to introduce you to." His tone sounded weirdly conversational in this setting.
 

Elisa Maza, kneeling at the top of the rope, peered curiously down into the darkness of the cavern below. The blond Russian was shining his flashlight at his own face giving him a macabre Halloween lighting. As odd as he looked in the lighting, it did not compare to the surprise the detective felt when a huge golden dragon's head also swung into the beam. The huge head peered intently upward at the woman.
 

"Doukhobora, meet Elisa Maza of the clan Gargoyle, High Detective of New York," he began in a formal tone. "Elisa, meet Doukhobora, the Spirit Wrestler, the Great Mother Dragon of the Winterlands."
 

Elisa's mouth dropped open.
 

--------------------
 

"I have known gargoyles in my time," offered Doukhobora as the awakened Goliath and Angela were also introduced to her. "At Lord Oberon's last Gathering, gargoyles abounded in the land. But that was many, many eons ago by human reckoning," she rumbled sadly. Her eyes misted at the memories.
 

"The Thrush agents have captured her daughter. The young dragonette was drawn to the construction site by curiosity and was captured several days ago. Doukhobora has been destroying the construction efforts in the cavern since but hasn't been able to rescue her child from the compound," supplied Kuryakin.
 

"Our explorations of the caverns have revealed a steel door leading to the upper fortress. I would suggest half our force enter stealthily by way of that door while the rest mount a diversionary attack on the top of the building," suggested the Russian.
 

Goliath considered the plan. "Yes, it is a sound plan. Mr. Kuryakin. You and Elisa take Bronx and use his tracking skills to seek out your partner and the young dragon then. Doukhobora, Angela and I will conduct an airborne attack on the roof. Once Mr. Solo and the young dragon are released, we will together find a way to disable this 'breeder reactor'."
 

"Break a leg, Goliath," offered the blond agent, as the gargoyle leader turned to go.
 

Goliath shot the Russian a puzzled look.
 

"I'll explain later, " said Elisa, gathering the UNCLE special rifle and heading off after Kuryakin.
 

-----------------------------------------
 

Inside the prison level, things were going badly.
 

"Mr. Solo," sputtered Sevarius irritated...
 

SNAP!
 

"...this is quite enough of this behavior, Mr. Solo...."
 

SNAP!
 

" ...sooner or later, you're going to have to surrender to our testing..."
 

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
 

"I don't think she likes Thrush, Sevarius," said Napoleon levelly, keeping the biting dragonette between himself and the small group of Thrush technicians as they looped in circles around the cell. "I wouldn't get too close. Sooner or later she's going to..."
 

SNAP! OWWW!
 

"...take a chunk out of one of you. Warned you, twice!" he grinned. "Good girl!" he crooned quietly, patting her on the back. The dragonette's eyes whirled in satisfaction.
 

The attempt to extract tissue from Solo and the dragon was proving difficult. Solo, the dragon, he and the guards had been looping about in this foolish dance entirely too long. Other matters were pressing on his mind. The reactor core had been delivered that morning and he was anxious to install it in its cavern location and bring it on line.
 

"Go get the tranquilizer rifles, with enough darts to drop the both of them," ordered Sevarius, exasperated. He would prefer not to have to do extractions from tranquilized specimens, the drugs might affect the cloning process, but his patience was running out. "And get that guard out of here, he's bleeding all over the cell floor," he growled, showing a striking lack of sympathy for the injured man.
 

Klaxons began to whoop loudly in the hallways as the emergency lighting suddenly dropped to red. "Sir, " panted a beret-clad guard running into the room, "We're under attack."
 

--------------------
 

Chaos reigned on the roof as Sevarius stepped out behind the hastily erected barricade to survey the fighting. Two large winged creatures were swooping violently at the soldiers on the roof, dodging laser shots efficiently, wresting weapons away from the Thrush guards and tossing the rifles over the side of the building. What are those creatures? thought the scientist amazed. Yet another species to add to my genetic experiments.
 

"Take them alive," he barked at the remaining soldiers, making their fight all the more difficult.
 

From out of the moon, a new combatant flew into the fray. This much larger version of the captive in the prison level, braked on powerful leathern wings, reared back her ridged head and belched a crackling gout of purple flame at the defenders on the roof. Scorched Thrush guards threw down their weapons and ran for cover in the face of this new nightmare.
 

"Get back out there and capture that as well, " shrilled Sevarius, infuriated at the Thrush guards efforts to save themselves. "Where are you going?" he called, angry at their retreat. Peering over the edge of the building he saw the remaining uninjured guards running from the building into the neighboring woods. You just can't hire quality mercenaries these days, he sighed to himself.
 

Well, at least he could insure that Napoleon Solo and that worrisome biting creature in the cell did not survive this, his second, defeat. The Illuminati would not be pleased at his failure to infiltrate this Thrush organization. Perhaps he would offer them the top UNCLE agent's elimination as a consolation prize.
 

--------------------
 

In the prison cell, Solo heard the sounds of a raging battle outside the building even through the closed cell door. He was not too surprised when Sevarius unlatched the door and stepped in with a high-powered rifle in his hands. The UNCLE agent dropped into an attack stance, ready to pounce.
 

Sevarius fired a shot at his feet, driving him back a step out of attack range. "Well, Mr. Solo, I'm sorry to have to end this in such an inelegant manner, but you see I'm in somewhat of a rush. I would so like to draw this execution out and make it properly imaginative, but you will forgive me the haste."
 

Understanding the threat in feelings if not in words, Melisande reared back on her hind legs behind the agent. She expanded her small wings to make herself seem larger and hissed menacingly at the scientist. Solo, seeing the scientist change his aim to the young dragon, bargained for her life. "You don't need to harm her. If you returned with me alive to Thrush headquarters, think of the negotiating position that would put you in."
 

Sevarius took careful aim at the dragonette's head with the rifle. She trilled nervously and looked to Solo for an explanation. "Much as I would love to turn you over to our interrogators, I fear that you would just escape me once again once we left this compound," sighed Sevarius. "And since you seem to value the animal's life, that will add to your defeat, will it not? Your pet will not survive this encounter, Mr. Solo. This time you lose."
 

Acting on instinct, Napoleon dove in front of Melisande just as the rifle rocked the Thrush madman back on his heels. The rifle round caught the agent high and hot in the shoulder, passing through him and scorching a path along the upper leg of the young dragonette. Melisande screamed in surprise and pain as the impact of the bullet drove both she and Solo backwards together.
 

Illya Kuryakin and Elisa, already having reached the prison level, heard the first shot and began sprinting down the abandoned hall to its source. From the roof level, Goliath also heard the retort and charged down the stairs to the sound of Bronx's excited barking.
 

Dizzy with his own blood loss and the shock of Melisande's pain resonating through their link, Solo struggled back to his feet, clutching his shoulder. The dragonette shrilled in panic, dancing from foot to foot behind him. Hot blood from her wound drenched his jacket as he pressed back against, trying to calm her through their mental link. Solo knew if he could block Sevarius' shot long enough, it would give the dragonette a chance to escape. "Get ready to run for the door," he ordered her quietly. Hoping she understood, he prepared to launch himself at the Thrush headman.
 

Sevarius grinned in feral delight. "Goodbye Mr. Solo, " he crowed. He raised the rifle anew to his shoulder and aimed at the center of the agent's forehead.
 

Kuryakin hit the madman low with a hard tackle knocking him off balance. The killing shot spanged wildly off the cell ceiling, missing its target completely.
 

"I don't think you'll be needing this," boomed Goliath, snatching the rifle up from behind the madman and breaking it in half. He held the scientist by the shoulders while Elisa hand-cuffed him to the cell door.
 

Sevarius twisted to face the intruders, his face a mask of amazement. "What are.... where did..." he sputtered. He stared up at Goliath and over at Angela in wonderment. "You can talk! What are..." The blond agent stepped up beside him and dropped him with a karate blow. The villain slumped in place, unconscious.
 

"You ask too many questions," he growled, stepping up to help his weaving partner.
 

"Help her first," mumbled the dark-haired agent. The dragonette's flesh wound, though not severe, was bleeding heavily. Her eyes whirled angrily as the blond agent approached the two of them and she dropped her head to hiss angrily.
 

"No, no. It's okay. Down girl," soothed the senior agent mumblingly. "He's here to help." He leaned back against Melisande, patting her comfortingly.
 

The Russian operative helped staunch the dragonette's wound with supplies Elisa purloined from a nearby prison office as Elisa helped bandage his partner's shoulder. Kuryakin helped his partner walk while Goliath and Angela struggled to help fit the young dragon through the doorways to the roof where her anxious mother waited.
 

--------------------
 

Content to be reunited at last, mother and daughter dragon curled comfortably around their treasure hoard. Their newest addition to the treasure trove, stowed safely there among the gold coins, oaken casks and glittering jewels, thrummed rhythmically, its reactor rods locked firmly in place by "Kuryakin of UNCLE", their new friend. He had told them that it would continue to make this pleasant noise for many hundred years of time by his way of reckoning.
 

Dragon-folk, like most mystical creatures, tended to be long-lived and so this made them the logical caretakers for this toy. Mankind was clearly too immature as yet to be trusted with such. Doukhobora had woven strong magicks around this object, it would be many eons before the humans even located this lair again, let alone purloined any of the objects within. Rumbling contentedly, the mother dragon curled her neck around her sleeping youngster and closed here eyes for a long well-earned sleep.
 

--------------------
 

"Excellent suggestion, turning the reactor core over to the dragons for safe-keeping, " stated Elisa as they prepared to leave. "That should insure that your Thrush group can never lay hands upon it again."
 

"And the legends surrounding this place have just reinforced for several more generations. This should keep any group from attempting another construction here for quite some time, " added Solo, taking the coffee his friend offered thankfully. "This is going to be a doozy of a field report. Gargoyles from the future and a police detective, who hasn't been born yet, helped two UNCLE agents and a pair of dragons defeat a mad scientist, one intent on cloning mythical creatures and spies, from setting off a reactor explosion that never happened."
 

Illya shot him a worried look over the fire.
 

"Well... we'll edit it somewhat," concluded Solo. "We hope to meet you in thirty years time when you come to New York, " offered the senior agent. "That's if we're still around in thirty years."
 

"According to dragon lore, you two should expect long, luck-filled lives.," supplied Goliath, as they packed to leave. "But it could be distracting when Melisande rises in her first Queen's Flight in several years hence."
 

"Queen's flight," questioned Solo uneasily. He didn't like the sound of that somehow.
 

"Yes," answered the gargoyle leader, "Since you, Mr. Solo, have formed a mental bond with the young queen, she will seek you out when she decides to it is time to find her dragon mate. You will be obliged to help her in the quest and advise her in the choice."
 

The UNCLE agent paled. The image of the dragonette crashing through his penthouse apartment suddenly rose in his mind's eye. His Russian friend couldn't help but look slightly smug as he adjusted his friend's arm sling.
 

"But that will be many decades hence, " added Goliath. "But you two will have the time to wait for the challenge. According to legend, being drenched in dragon's blood as you were during the fight will insure both your immortalities."
 

"Our imm..." began Solo slowly. "You're joking, right?"
 

Goliath was enjoying this too much, thought Elisa amused.
 

"I'm sorry I thought you knew," the gargoyle leader added, speaking solemnly . "The dragon-chosen are thus gifted."
 

Both agents looked stricken.
 

"We really must be going, " called Elisa, hiding her smile, as she stepped into the boat. Angela and Bronx were already aboard.
 

"Goodbye, and good luck in your quest," said Illya recovering first. He nodded his head to Goliath and Elisa, and kissed Angela's hand in a courtly manner. She blushed a deep purple, her eyes dancing at the compliment.
 

"Uh, likewise," said the usually erudite Solo. He shook Goliath's hand warmly, scratched Bronx behind the ears and reached over to kiss Elisa. A warning growl from Goliath brought him up short. Recovering smoothly, he instead planted a chaste kiss on her forehead, keeping a careful eye on the gargoyle leader all the while.
 

"See you in New York in about 30 years," called Elisa to Illya, helping Goliath push the boat off from the shore. "Remember the Police Clock Tower"
 

Solo shot his partner a questioning look at the statement. The Russian just shrugged and pasted on his inscrutable look while he watched the boat disappear into a sudden fog-bank on the river.
 

"Will we really be seeing them back I our own time?" commented the detective quietly to the gargoyle leader as they poled into the between.
 

"If the legends hold, yes we will," returned Goliath quietly, the fog hiding his expression. "Perhaps we have gained strong forces to our side this day in our fight against the Illuminati and Xanatos."
 

"I just hope I get to meet the blond one, again," murmured Angela, her head down. "I think he's quite cute... for a human," she explained blushing.
 

Goliath shot her a quick worried look as Elisa grinned openly. Who knows what the future will bring? thought the detective amused. The skiff slipped quietly into the magic of between and all was silence.