Gargoyles: an Evolutional Theory by Dr. Anton Sevarius "Borrowed" from Nightstone, Inc. Archives August 5, 1997, by Demonika of the Outklaws and edited by Eddie of Clan Winslow. Blkblade@mailexcite.com ***BLACK BLADE'S NOTE: Legal jargon...sigh, I hate this part...Gargoyles are copyrighted by Disney and Buena Vista, and no infringement is wished upon them. Clan Winslow, the Outklaws, and anything you don't recognise is most probably mine. Use without my permission and I'll go postal on my dinky 386. (What else can I do?) Any jokes about the Rocky Horror Show are purely for humor and I mean no infringement of Richard O'Brien (the Genius!) Anyway, there's the Classic Thailog in the gold Speedos and singing "Sword of Damocles." I just have to get in, right, Stonewraith and DemonSpawn?:) Just a warning, for all who don't know my writing, I write MATURE LANGUAGE and sometimes a little violence, but, hey, I wouldn't be getting the characters write if I had Mauser say, "Oh crap" all the time...*blink*...I can't picture that. Anyway, much Kudos (the M&M kind...mmmmm....) to my rookery kin, Mercedes and Sombrero, as well as Pippen and Alexia (Alexis). Also, I have a new editor, as well as Merc and Som, who goes by the name of ShadowBrook, after that shady dude in Arin's dreams. ("That picture of SB, Cyrway...the eyes...THEY'RE FOLLOWING ME!!! AAARRGGGHHH!!! Oh, damn. X-Files' on.") Enough jabbering, and on with the show!*** MONIKA: Previously, on Gargoyles... GOLIATH: We live; we do not thrive. (Show Goliath talking to Grandmother from "Heritage") HACKER: They once numbered in the millions, but since humans began climbing the evolutionary ladder, they've been dying off. MATT: What? ("...Love & War: Part Four [Three Continued]") *** eddieprv.wpd, WordPerfect 6.1 Document ENCRYPTED: PLEASE ENTER DECRYPTION CODE: >servotronic blkblade ACCESS GRANTED. *** Monika knows where to find me: sitting in front of my computer, researching. Information interests me; it has always been that way. The Internet, especially. Right now, I've been just screwing around, trying to crack some codes on Monika's mom's business. I don't get it. She's one of the Clan, but what I got from Wentworth's sis, Kellie, she went to apply for a job there and ran into the big kahuna who, save for the gap in species, looked a lot like the Wicked Bitch of the East! Strange. Monika went to investigate about two hours ago (a good thing about being an Outklaw in times like this; they know how to thieve, sneak, and hide. Although I would never stoop to the depths...) and hadn't come back yet. I hope she wasn't caught. The Nightstone computer Internet is complex; I don't know if Clay is having more luck than me. I'll E-mail him later. This Nightstone shit is deep, that's all I really know. They seem to be a big-time corporation, like Dupont, only why would they move from the Big Apple to rinky-dink Waterville, Maine? Seclusion? Good luck. Even in that city, you have some nosy neighbour bringing over welcoming brownies. CTRL+S--DOCUMENT SAVED. "Breaker breaker, three-zero." Eddie minimized the screen as the CB screeched on the predesignated channel. She picked up the receiver. "Rebel base, Rebel base, this is Rogue One, do you copy? Over," Monika's voice rang in through the static. "Rogue One, this is Rebel base. What's your stat? Over," she requested over the mike. "Rebel base, we have the payload. Over." Eddie smiled, relieved. "10-4, Rogue One, return to base immediately. Over and out." She hung off the mike but left the frequency on. In the age of technology, was too much worrying about cellular phones and Internet privacy to notice the ancient art of trucker linguistics. That was the good thing about CB. Almost impossible to trace, mainly because it operated on radio frequencies below AM freqs, and because every older hic in Albion was operating one on their tractors. Not as bad as MIRC, where everyone knew the almighty Black Blade. She smiled again, padding over to her CD rack. Checking the time to assure it was before midnight, for that was when Elly turned in for the night, she popped a CD into her diskdrive and hit the "play" option on the menu bar. "Stand" by Motorhead blared through her rigged up stereo system as she undid her thick braid and brushed her dark blond hair. To her, she wasn't at all attractive, but her hair and eyes made up for her odd appearance. Of course, it didn't help having heavy scars on her face and arms... Her eyes flared red as she threw the brush at the mirror over her dresser. It bounced off the wooden frame and landed in a pile of laundry. "Breaker, breaker, three-zero. "Rogue One to Rebel base! I have TIE Fighter at twelve o'clock! Over!" Monika's voice crackled with fear. "Rogue Leader, this is Rebel base," the woman snapped back into her leadership roll. "What is your current position? Over." "Clinton Ave in Winslow!" She made a quick calculation in her head. "You're heading east, Rogue One. Three o'clock. Drift south to follow the Sabasticook River until Checkpoint. I'll have Rogue Leader meet you there in the Falcon. Over and out." Setting down the CB mike, she ran over to the loft door and flung it open. "CHAZ!" She bellowed, calling attention to the entire clan. They were all playing basketball until her shrill shout caused the ball to roll under Elly's Buick LeSabre. "YO!" The grey gargoyle shouted back. "Monika's in deep shit with Mommy Dearest. Take the Chevy and meet her at Al's Drive-In." She tossed him the keys from her position. "Take Mag and Avaon with you. And Maus, too." "Who died and made you fucking leader?" Mauser demanded. "She's your fucking mate!" Eddie snapped back. "The least you can do is help her!" Grumbling, Maus agreed only because she had a point. "Ten-four!" Chaz saluted, racing to the beat-up old Chevy in the back of the barn. "We'll discuss this later, Ed," Maus warned, following the three others. The green female sighed forcefully, returning back to her computer. Mauser was nothing but trouble, she thought. Ever since the Outklaws abandoned their barn on route 104, they had to take refuge here, mainly because of the trouble Monika's mother posed to them. Having two leaders under one roof was bad enough; the biggest problem was that Mauser was a machismo chauvinistic pig with a holier-than-thou attitude. The backfire of the ancient truck issued their departure as she leaned back in her chair. "Eddie, any luck?" Claymore stuck his head through the open door. "That's a negatory," she muttered. "I need some assistance, though, amigo." She minimized WordPerfect and initialized Netscape. "I've located Nightstone's homepage, but there's an encryption code locked inside the HTML itself. Not only that, if it wasn't for Mr. Norton's Antivirus, I would have gotten a nasty harddrive-glutton of a virus from the feedback from the decryption passcode." She swiveled in her chair to face the young red male. "Any news with you?" "Let me on," Clay pulled her, chair and all, away from the computer and, grabbing her director's chair next to the desk, began typing maniacally. Finally, he initialized a loop program that scrambled the Nightstone homepage and confused the programming long enough for him to log in the sophisticated system. "There we go. You have ten minutes tops before the system realises you trespassing and kicks you off, as well as wreaking Satan on your entire CPU." "Thanks, man, you're a genius!" She clapped him of the shoulder and took over at the keyboard, setting the internal clock to go off in eight minutes. That should be adequate time for her to go in, find what she was looking for, and get out. No problem. Mauser perched on the roof of Al's as Chaz went in to order a couple of sodas and pizzas--a good thing the owner knew them, after about two months of getting used to them--and scanned the skies. Where was she? It's been about ten minutes. She should have been here by now. Chaz came out with four large rootbeers and two large loaded pies, handing one to Magnum and Avaon and, deftly leaping into the bed of the truck, then on the roof of the cab, and ultimately onto the top of the yellow building, he handed the Outklaw leader his soda. "Four months, and Scotty is almost one of us," Maus snorted, watching Avaon devour a slice. "Listen, fearless leader," Chaz pointed his grey talon to Mauser's chest. "Tell me the truth. Are you worried for Monika?" "I'll kill that bitch if she lays a hand on my babe." "Sometimes it's not as simple as that, bro." Chaz stood erect and pointed to the speck in the sky. "I'd say she's coming." "Start up the truck and start driving back to Ground Zero," Mauser ordered, unfurling his wings. "I'll meet up with her and we'll regroup near the construction site in Albion. From there, we'll take the long way back, to throw off any potential trailers." "Roger that!" Chaz saluted and leapt back into the truck. Squealing out of the restaurant parking lot, the ancient Chevy headed east on 137. Mauser caught an updraft from the vent nearby, enough to pick him up twenty feet off the ground, and glided toward the growing speck. "Maus!" Monika swooped above him, holding close to her chest a manilla envelope. "We gotta return to Eddie!" "Why the hell her?" He demanded sourly as they skimmed the treeline alongside the road. "And who's following you?" "Some human male. He gives me the creeps," she shivered. "No prob. I'll go scare the living shit outta him--" "No, Mauser, he's...different. He's comfortable with gargoyles. And he's evil. I can smell it on him, like a stench." "Then, let's go back. We'll meet up with the others at the construction site." He reached over and grabbed her free hand and gave it a squeeze. She nodded in agreement. "Eddie!" The green female, upon hearing the collective voice of the four males, jumped from the loft window and glided down to ground level. They had been gone for nearly a half-hour; she had no luck in finding anything in the Nightstone Archives, regardless of her knowledge of her computers or Clay's hacking skills. She would have received a nasty virus from the Nightstone computers if she had logged off fifteen seconds before her time expired. "What's the lowdown?" She demanded directly at Monika. The older woman sighed somewhat and handed her a manilla envelope. "You won't like this, Ed," she whispered. "What is it?" the males questioned, as the rest of the clans gathered around the driveway. Eddie opened the envelope. Smith and Wesson, the residential Beavis and Butthead, started a drumroll on the fender of the old Chevy. With a stern look from the female leader, they silenced fast. She skimmed the contents--a manuscript of some sort--and heaved a sigh. "Avaon, Mauser, and Chaz," she beckoned. "I want you three in my loft pronto." There was mumbling amongst the ranks. Finally, Sam stepped up. "What is it?" He whispered. Eddie glanced down at the paper in her hand, then at her rookery brothers and sisters, then at the Outklaws. "This is Clan business, people," she finally replied. "Mercedes, go get Ben and Elly. This is seriously deep shit." "Why do you think she called leaders and second-in-commands?" Alexis snarled, crossing her arms over her chest. "What is it you have to hide, sis?" "Listen, Alexis," Eddie growled, "learn to respect a little authority for once in your life and obey me. This is too touchy a subject." She waved the paper. "This is Area 51 classified. That's how deep it is. We're looking out for survival here, not just some stupid bigot." She leafed through the text, taking a post-it from the front page, and handed it to Mercedes. "Read." "'Demona, For Your Eyes Only, I found this while studying the Clones. You may find this a little fascinating. Anton.' What does it mean?" The aquamarine gargoyle asked. "Some proof that Demona is part of this Nightstone corp," Mauser snapped his fingers. "Right. Men, to the war room," she ordered, marching up to her room, with Mauser, Avaon, and Chaz in close pursuit. The others shrugged, a little curious, and waited until Eddie closed the trapdoor. Then they gathered around to listen in on the conversation taking place, Sam hoisting Pippen onto his shoulders so that she could put her ear right to the door. "I called us together for the sole reason of this." Eddie passed the manuscript to Mauser. "This seems to be a lab report on gargoyles' genetic make-up." "So?" Mauser snarled, handing it to his second unread. "So," Eddie snarled, "as you so dutifully read, you'll find the disturbing comment about how we are dying out." "Gimme that!" Mauser tore it away from Chaz, who swore painfully as blood seeped from a papercut across his pale grey flesh. "Well, what do you know: 'Reproductive systems flawed, all will die.' Even had an underline." "What?" Avaon muttered. "Exactly that," Eddie sighed. "The reason why I called you together is that I need some advise. How are we going to break this news to the rest of the clan, and should we try to contact Brooklyn and his clan about this? I mean, Nightstone originally came from Manhattan, they might know more about Demona than us." "Why don't we just gather all the explosives in Kennebec County, place them all in strategic spots along the foundation, and...BOOM!" Mauser threw his hands up for emphasis. Eddie stared at him, then replied, "Like I said, I need some advise on how to handle this situation. Avaon?" "We should tell the clan sooner than later," he remarked. "But how to tell them...." Mauser shrugged. "The easiest way." He threw open the trapdoor and yelled, "Hey, everyone! We're doomed to extinction, so break out the beers and let's party like it was 1999!" "You stupid shit!" Chaz snarled as everyone downstairs started mumbling. "Now that is why they listen to me instead of you!" Eddie exclaimed. "At least I look ahead to see the consequences of my decisions, so I won't cause a riot. Avaon, Chaz, you're crowd control until I can figure out what this document is saying. Mauser, shut your hole and think next time. Tell them what you found out from the document you so intensely read." Eddie sat down at her computer. "But I didn't read--" "Exactly," she growled, and booted up the unit. "Everyone, out, I got work to do." *** The Evolution and Extinction of Gargoyles by Anton Sevarius of Nightstone Unlimited Species: Saxum diluculus Subspecies: two known: Saxum diluculus (bestiary breed) and Saxum diluculus sapien Classified Information. Of all the strange and unusual cases in all my years in genetics have I seen such an fascinating and sadly doomed species as Saxum diluculus, or gargoyles. Starting with the fact that no creature in nature possesses the ability to turn to stone by day like S. diluculus, living or extinct, I can only conclude that they were a) a quirk in the evolutionary process that, long ago, a nocturnal breed of velociraptors (extinct)with cross-strands of DNA from pterodactyls. An extreme sensitivity to the sun's unique ultraviolet rays filtering through the oxygen/nitrogen mix of our atmosphere had caused a mutation in their DNA to harden their skin to that of stone, so much that they become immobile during the day. At night, the creatures shed their rocklike skin as dead cells, the way humans shed dead skin cells, only at a more accelerated rate. B) the DNA I studied from my "prodigal bug" over a year ago (see report on the Thailog project) contained strands that of not only extinct dinosaurs and early mammals, but also mismatched reptiles, birds, and mammals still in existence, including Homo sapien. Somehow, even though it has been proven that S. diluculus is a much older species than H. neadrethal. This would conclude that something to this magnitude of genetic mutation could not be entirely natural. Therefore, there is two probabilities to this theory: 1) Resent studies on Easter Island and other Polynesian islands, as well as some in Egypt and Great Britain, point to the fact that extraterrestrial life has visited our planet numerous times. Maybe these creatures played Life Genesis with the endangered species, trying to gene splice whatever they could to keep that genetic essence alive, or 2) as impossible as this sounds, coming from a scientist, some sort of magic was introduced by a much older race than either H. sapien or S. diluculus, quite possibly extraterrestrials as mentioned above, or another race native to this world but long died out...or quite possibly still here, but in another plane of existence...? What spurred me to write this report was after the chairwoman Domenique Destine gave birth to her daughter, Lilith... *** "Shit!" Eddie swore. "The bitch reproduces!" Wait. Gave birth? Gargoyles don't "give birth". They lay eggs. They hatch. Just what the hell is going on? She read on. *** What spurred me to write this report was after the chairwoman Domenique Destine gave birth to her daughter, Lilith. Apparently, whether through the magic that changes Ms. Destine from a human during the day to her natural form at night or the fact that the father was not quite a complete gargoyle clone (again, refer to the Thailog project), or perhaps the combination of the two factors, produced such an odd helix with the child's genetic make-up, creating a wingless gargoyle with immunity to the sun's rays; in other words, she doesn't have to sink into "stone hibernation" during the day. More on Lilith as she matures. As for the problem with the evolutionary ladder, S. diluculus are at a dead-end. Unless major genetic mutation is introduced to their reproductive systems, which are, in many ways, flawed. A) Because of the incubation period of ten years, there is a chance that, through predators, whether natural or otherwise, the eggs could be destroyed. Although dimensionally secure with the stone encasing the actual egg, there is that chance of destruction, especially in this age of bigotry against everything different. B) Females become fertile once every twenty years. In human standards, that would be like having ten years in between menstrual cycles. Puberty is reached by about the human equivalent of fifteen to sixteen years old, and, although females remain sexually active throughout their lives after that-- *** "Or, in your case, sexually dormant." Eddie swore, realising she was reading aloud as well for Magnum standing over her with a brooding look to his normally happy-go-lucky face. "Chaz gave us the lowdown," he muttered, taking hold of her hand a squeezing it lovingly. "Pippen and Sam have been eavesdropping for the past fifteen minutes. You should know better than to read out loud around here." "Then you heard about the bitch, eh?" Eddie took a highlighter and marked the section. Handing him the papers she had already read, she sighed and added, "She apparently turns into a human during the day, instead of becoming stone like the rest of us. Also, Monika's a big sister." "What?" "Demona has a baby girl, some sort of freak, I guess," she pointed out to the paragraph she highlighted. "Do me a favor and take this downstairs. The gang would like to have some information about our predicament. Just tell them more will come as I find out...God," she rubbed her eyes. "This is just so deep!" "Don't worry about it, hon," he put his arms around her and gave her a gentle hug. "You can figure it out. You always do." Kissing her cheek, he returned downstairs to leave her alone with the remaining document. Skipping the rest of part B, she moved on to the next section. *** C) At maximum, one female can only have four offspring before their equivelent to the human stage of menopause. Keeping this in mind, on average the usual is two offspring. After that, it becomes harder for the womb to generate the shell for the embryo, and usually the third and fourth are smaller and weaker than their older brother and sister. D) Strangely enough, S. diluculus females nurse their offspring. This may bring some light to the front that maybe they are evolving. I have never before encountered a species where an offspring is hatched but wet-nursed by their mothers. Possible solutions: A) CLONING: The cloning procedure seems to have some success as shown by the previous experiments, and perhaps if we allowed them to grow on their own, would be a 100% success. However, since we have not much time to actually study the development of a naturally aging clone, we had to accelerate the growth, causing mental disorders, most common limited intelligence and, in one of the cases (Hollywood, I believe Thailog and Ms. Destine named him) has developed paranoia. How I compensated for that was to introduce human DNA strands to replace the missing gargoyle strands related to intellegence. In my three previous examples: Thailog, Delilah, and Malibu, this has proven true. However, cloning will produce gaps, and if attempted to clone clones, there could be a problem with genetic fading, even if a clone should father a child through a true gargoyle, the child may come out deformed, case in point, Lilith. *** "Can we say, Jurassic Park'?" *** B)INTERSPECIES MIXING: Another theory may be brought up that, although the difference between human and gargoyle females are different, the reproductive anatomy of human and gargoyle males are virtually the same. *** "EEWW!" *** For some reason, I've come to find out that it is technically possible for human females to be impregnated by gargoyle males, though it is theoretically more difficult to impregnate gargoyle females with human sperm. *** "I reintegrate: EEWW!" Eddie thought for a second and cracked somewhat of a grin. "Of course, there was that thing with Kyle's elephant and Cartman's pot-bellied pig on South Park'." *** Conclusion: In this paper, I've stated the problem and two possible solutions. I am at present trying to find a way to create a mutagen to alter the reproduction systems of gargoyles, to shorten the gestation period to the point of live birth. S. diluculus is an oddity, much like the duck-billed platypus. However, I am unsure that gargoyles will be able to remain in the Earth's ecosystem for not more than a millennium more unless a massive mutation will occur. --Anton Sevarius *** "Fuck me!" Eddie sighed, ignoring Mag's half-hearted "When?" from downstairs. This was seriously deep shit. She opened the trapdoor. "Everyone, up here!" she ordered. "Get your asses in gear and get up her now!" There was mumbling, worried and concerned. Finally, Clan Winslow and the Outklaws filed up into the normally-spacious loft one by one. "Where's Ben and Elly?" Eddie demanded. "Elly went to bed last I checked," Mercedes protested. "Ben's nowhere to be found," Chaz concluded. "Dammit," Clan Winslow's leader sighed. "Fine. Maybe it's better if he didn't know about this. Ladies and gentlemen--and Outklaws--I present to you the fruits of Monika's labor." She held up the manuscript above her head, waving it slightly at her rookery kin. "What we have here is a possibly depressing situation on our hands, so if you do not want to hear what I'm about to say, please leave the loft." No one dared move. "We are clan, Eddie," Avaon whispered. "We stand together, or we fall together," Chaz added. There was another eerie period of silence. And suddenly, Mauser and Eddie exploded into an intangible battle of words. "QUIET!!!" Chaz snarled. "When will the two of you realise this is childish arguing amongst yourselves?" Avaon demanded. "You are our leaders, and yet you attack one another like you were mortal enemies! We need the two of you to get along, or this clan will fall!" The sage-coloured gargoyle caught himself yelling and lowered his voice. "Eddie, Mauser, you can't continuously be at one another's throat. There's a significance to this clan--" "And how, pray tell, do you know, Scottie?" Wes demanded. "I wouldn't have been sent here to hatchling-sit an entire clan, would I?" was his blatant reply. Eddie bit her lower lip in thought. Mauser scratched his neck. "Now that we have everyone's attention," Alexis tapped her foot, "may we please get on with this?" The green female nodded, then regained her authoritative air. "Since I know this is conflicting with some of our social calenders," she snorted, "I'll make this brief. The president-in-chief of this Nightstone Unlimited is none other than Monika's mom herself, everyone knows that now, thank you, Mag. Next order of business is the fact that we seem to have a faulty system, in the fact we can't spawn like rabbits." "Or humans," Maus muttered. "And the point...?" Alexia drummed her talons on the oak dresser she leaned against. "...and the point is that, according to Doctor Frank-N-Furter here, employed by the Wicked Bitch of the East herself, we, as a race, are a flawed species in general and will die out in about a thousand years if drastic measures aren't taken." More eerie silence. A dog howled in the distance, probably their own mutt. Monika seemed as though she was going to burst out crying. "So what does this have to do with us?" Smith mumbled, just before the hilt of Clay's jackknife contacted the white gargoyle's skull with a hollow thunk. "It means, we're screwed, our spawn is screwed, their spawn is screwed, and so forth, until their is no more gargoyle race on Earth, you numskull," the little red gargoyle snarled. "Shit," Wes swore. "Then we must search out for females to reproduce before it's too late!" "Oh, great, little Smiths and Wessons . We do not need that," Magnum muttered. "Can you guys be serious for once?" Mercedes snarled. "So what can we do, fearless leader?" Bob questioned. "What can we do?" Eddie sat in her desk chair. "Sure, we're not as bad off as some other gargoyle clans around the world--at least we're not the only ones anymore--but we can't do anything, but be gargoyles." She shrugged, feeling defeated. "I'll welcome any feedback from you." "There isn't much we can, Ed," Maus muttered. "You covered it all." Eddie nodded sadly, handing the papers to her second-in-command. "Avaon," she whispered. "I want to thank you for becoming part of our clan. Without you, I think we would have self-destructed long ago." Avaon glanced at Mauser, who also seemed to have a look of regret to his normally cynical face. The darker green gargoyle nodded somewhat. He then gazed down at the papers in his hand. "I propose we confront the bitch," Mauser finally stated. "Strength in numbers, my brothers and sisters. Strength in numbers." "And the reason...?" Chaz questioned. "...To find out what the hell we're dealing with," Mauser finished. "That has to be the most tangible thing I have ever heard you say, Maus," Eddie smiled grimly. "And I agree. Sam, Pippen, Clay, stay here. The rest of us will go to this Nightstone place. Monika?" "On the Concourse, where Levines' used to be..." she whispered, choking somewhat. There was a collective whoop as the clan leapt from the open loft door out to the driveway. Save Monika and Eddie. "Hey, what's wrong?" Eddie whispered as she placed a hand on the dark pink female's shoulder. "Ed, this couldn't have come at a worse time," she whimpered. "God, I don't know what to do...." "What is it, sis?" the shorter woman questioned softly, in contrast with her normally brash voice. "Maus doesn't even know...I can't tell him now..." "Monika, are you..." She said nothing, only nodded, letting her tears flow more freely. Eddie stared, mouth agape, deciding whether to stay here with her friend or go beat the living shit out of Mauser. She chose the former of the two and tried to remain calm. "I saw Dr. Roper a couple of nights ago...you remember him..." Eddie nodded, absently touching her largest scar over her right eye. Doctor Frank Roper had been Elly's physician for as long as the children could remember; when Eddie and Ben had the "accident", all those years ago, the human rookery mother had the then-middle-aged man haul ass to the farm to tend to them. That accident costed Ben the use of his wing and almost took Eddie's life. Now the elderly doctor had semi-retired; he still checked in on the clan once in a while, but no longer saw human patients. "I went to see him because of what I thought was the stomach flu...I thought I caught it from Wes when he came down with it last week...but it was really bothering me. Doc gave me a check-up, and told me it wasn't the flu..." she choked. "How am I going to raise a child?" "You won't be alone to do it, Monika," Eddie assured. "We'll all help out. We're clan, of course." "After this evening, I was so scared. I mean, all this talk about us...and when Mauser shouted that earlier...I know it was his way of trying to break the news in a humorous way, but...how am I going to tell him, Eddie?" "Easy," Eddie poked her head out the loft door. "Mauser! Get your ass back in here!" Turning back to Monika, she ordered, "Sit down and talk to him. Tell him how you feel. Make him understand. And whatever you do, remember all the gory details. I want to hear about his reaction." They shared an evil grin, although Monika sniffed back another sob. "Tomorrow night, talk to Elly," Eddie added. "I mean, she raised my brothers and sisters and I." Monika nodded again as Mauser climbed back into the loft. "Maus, stay here; I'll take the gang in," Eddie ordered, and before he could protest, she went to join the rest of the clan. "Mauser," Monika took his hands. "I need to speak with you...about our relationship...." Eddie was mildly surprised to find Mauser still there after two hours, in which the away team had arrived at the Nightstone Building, a four-story department store until recently, when it had been refurnished and remodeled to suit the business...whatever she did. Of course, as the quote from one of the Sam's Magic cards, "Strength in numbers? Yeah, right." The bitch had met them at the back door, armed with a cannon the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. What took them a half-hour to get to Waterville only took fifteen minutes coming home, and they took the long way home with that. Last she checked, Mercedes still was hyperventilating. She found the TV turned on to Letterman and the couple asleep on her couch, Mauser with his arm draped around Monika's waist. It was kind of sweet, in a funny sort of way. She grabbed her blanket and draped it over the sleeping lovers, then left the loft. Maybe gargoyles did have a chance of surviving the old-fashioned way. *** AS THE STROKE OF EIGHT PM APPROACHES... Hmmm...as I said before, stories had a tendency to write themselves. This one was no exception. Interesting, I've got to admit, but I've got to wrap up some holes before...Sombrero, drumroll, please...MY NEXT BIG FANFIC!!! In the process even as I speak is two multi-parters, one, "Gliding on the Wings of Time", a fanfic that introduces two more characters of mine and the Phoenix Gate, and "The Clone Wars Saga", a sort of prelude to what will happen to Luc from "Desolation of the Soul". Who knows how it's going to end up! Praise? Flames? Please contact me! It's blkblade@mailexcite.com. That's blkblade@mailexcite.com. My old E-mail address has been destroyed by the evil Radio Shack people! Stay tuned! --Black Blade "My Cosmic Song Goes On For Eternity"