Gliding on the Winds of Time by Black Blade blkblade@mailexcite.com TIME NOTE: This fanfic takes place three months after "...Love and War." ***DISCLAIMER: Gargoyles is a licensed trademark of Disney and Buena Vista. All characters save for Arin MacDuff, Kade Saeri, and Christopher Highblood are copyrighted by the above fore mentioned companies. Kade and Christopher, however, are truly copyrighted by Amy K. Cyrway, so they are my actual legal property and if anyone uses them without my consent, I can legally go mediaeval on his/her/its ass. This is an unofficial fanfic and is not intended for infringement of any kind. As for the content of this piece, it does contain ADULT CONTENT, in the form of swearing and violence. I would like to extend special thanks to my rookery sister, Mercedes, my rookery brother, Sombrero, and my brainwashed buddy ShadowBrook, who I totally corrupted with hour after hour of Gargoyle eps and my fanfic. Because of them (and the fact I was getting tired of writing stupid crossovers like South Park Horrors [I hear everyone groan]), I was forced to actual archive this fanfic. Also, thanks to all my buds at Station 8 Chat, including but not limited to: Stoney ("We're slimy, we're squishy, we're all a little fishy!"), DemonSpawn, of course Mercedes and Sombrero, Stormy, and, no, I won't forget Whitbourne! Cheers to all of you, blokes!*** Part One: Neon Knights GOLIATH: "Deflagrate muri tempi et intervalia!" (Show lightning striking him unconscious, "Future Tense") EDDIE: Previously, on Gargoyles... GOLIATH: Brooklyn! BROOKLYN: I've been waiting a long time for this... (Show the "Did he dislocate his jaw or what?" punch [I did say this when I first saw the ep--BB] from "Future Tense") (Show the fight between the Archimage and Goliath in "Avalon Part Three") SELENE: Are ye mad?! LUNA: The Eye and the Phoenix Gate were forged on the Island, but the Grimorum is full of human magic! (Show the Archimage attaching the Phoenix Gate in "Avalon Part Two") PHEOBE: What is time to an immortal? (Same ep.) (Show Brooklyn and Arin hugging on the ledge, from "...Love and War: Part Four [Three concluding]") (Show Brooklyn holding Demona from "Future Tense") (Show Goliath throwing the Phoenix Gate into the rift, at the end of "Future Tense") Circles and Rings Dragons and Kings Weaving a charm and a spell Blessed by the night Holy and bright Called by the toll of the bell --"Neon Knights" Black Sabbath (Dio) *** Prologue "Magic" Dimension Wells Beach, Wells, Maine About 9:00 p.m. The moon-inflicted glint of gold caught his golden-green eyes as he walked cautiously on the rocks. Probably sea glass, he thought sullenly, or maybe someone's discarded beer bottle. He would have dismissed it without a thought save for the fact it seemed to radiate sentience of some sort, a magical aura. Curiosity overwhelmed his normally stoic disposition as he kneeled over the tide pool, thrusting his taloned hand into the cool water. His long fingers wrapped around metal, and he retracted his hand from the shallow pool, pondering his find. "Kade!" he hissed, reluctant to break the silence of the night. Prying his eyes from the artifact, he glanced around and repeated his beckon a little louder. "Kade!" "Yo!" What seemed to be a very tall dwarven woman scurried among the rocks to meet her friend. She was a good fifteen inches shorter than he, with blazing green dragon eyes and a thick mane of dark brown, almost black hair. She was exceptionally pretty, by human standards, almost beautiful, but there was too much tomboy in her to care. "Look what I found," he whispered, holding out the artifact to his standing friend. Kade took it, cold to her touch, pondering it over. Her index finger traced the gold rampant bird design on a blue field of unknown metal, too heavy to be steel; too light to be iron. "Wow," her usually loud exterior quieted to a murmur. "You think it belongs to some tourist mage?" She handed her friend back the amulet. "I don't know; all I can sense from it is that whatever it is, it's highly powerful." "I don't know, bro," she pushed away a stray lock of wind-blown hair. "Maybe we should get back home; we've got an hour-an-a-half drive ahead of us." He nodded, rising to his full height. "May I drive?" he questioned, somewhat comical. "In your dreams, bro," Kade snorted, climbing the cement stairs to the parking lot. He followed her, stopping momentarily to glance down at his prize. The street lights casted long eerie shadows along his face. "Christopher!" the woman shouted, starting up her beat-up black Trans Am, an ancient heap of metal that miraculously survived year after year of Maine weather. Chris nodded solemnly, jumping into the passenger seat. Kade pulled out onto Main Street and headed back to the Interstate. When she dared to steal a look at her best friend. He had his eyes closed, and he was muttering some old and lengthy incantation in his father's native tongue. She sighed. She was classified as a warrior through the Selective Service, and magic didn't taste good in her mouth. Chris, however, was exempt from any government services, mainly because he was a specialty mage, and the only apprentice under the last Sssarikkr-i mage, Khhikkaeth. So if a war got called up, she was shipped out, while he got to stay in the good old U.P. of A. The lucky stiff. The only magic she could stomach was her own racial abilities. Sure, she looked human, but appearances were disturbing. Chris was half-dragon, where she was full; the Khhithsig had no cross breeds. They evolved by reproducing with other races. In fact, she was technically three-quarters human and one-quarter dwarf. The Khhithsig were probably the only unmagical dragons in existence. Back to Chris. He was now staring at the artifact, which had an eerie fiery glow to it. His golden-green eyes had an interesting cast to them as well. "What is it, Chris?" She queried softly. "Phoenix Gate," was his simple response. "A teleporter. It called for me, Kade." Oh, shit. Mage talk. "Called you for what?" "We are needed." He whispered solemnly, holding the Phoenix Gate, as he called it, in front of him. "'Deflagrate muri temp et intervalia!'" He suddenly chanted. "You rriarrkkssarkk!" She yelled. "You're using illegal magic!" It isn't illegal if it came from the Sidhe," he whispered with a glazed look to his draconian face. Kade shivered as a sphere of flame surrounded her beloved car. She understood Latin, all right; he grandmother was a retired Roman History professor at Colby. It sounded like human magic to her; the Romans used it to conquer her Celt and Pict ancestors over two thousand years ago. She prayed to whatever deity was watching over her that she had her piece in the trunk. Something told her that it was going to be a long night. *** "Orthodox" Dimension Castle Wyvern, Manhattan July 4th, 1997 9:00 p.m. "Vietnam. Korea. They were all a crock of shit," Arin waved her Sam Adams in the air, She was without-a-doubt drunk. "The fuck'n government decided to interfere in where we had no fuck'n business. Police action my ass. A downright fuck'n massacre! Napalm, mortar, mustard gas, Agent Orange, we fought without honor! Enlisted men, volunteers, poor drafted bastards, they went to serve for this beautiful country, and when they got back, no one gave them one fuck'n welcome home like they did in World War II! Oh, wait. They did receive something: insomnia, guilt, amputated limbs, neurological disorders, insanity, and some didn't return home! If they classified the Vietnam theater a war, the veterans would have been treated a hell of a lot better! In fact, if those fuck'n bastards in Congress learned to get their noses out of other people's business, those poor blokes out on the streets that fought because they were forced to by the draft would have a home, a family. So God fuck'n bless fuck'n America!" She turned to the southeast, where the Statue of Liberty was visible, and toasted the statue. She tilted her head back, the fireworks accented her strange tri-coloured hair with different hues of red, blue, and gold. Tossing the rest of her Sam Adams down in one gulp, she bowed and sat down. Brooklyn clapped and stood up. He wasn't as plastered as Arin, bun he was getting pretty damn close. Good thing the rest of the clan--Macbeth included--went out to Ellis Island for the fireworks. They stood home and watched Bronx. He pulled Arin to her feet. "Now, I don't know which surprises me more," he smiled a little slovenly. "You dissing the American way, you ranting on about something that happened before you were born, or the fact I haven't heard you swear that much since the incident between you and Oberon." She bowed a little shakenly, spreading her wings full span. When she pulled herself up, she experienced a major head rush and leaned against the copper gargoyle for support. "Goliath is going to kill us," he chuckled, glancing at the nearly finished six-pack. Three for her, two for him, and they were both pretty much buzzed. Although technically he was well over age, Arin was still only nineteen. "Ooh, you think Goliath's gonna kill us, bloke? My da's gonna go mediaeval on both our asses before Goliath even has a chance," Arin smirked. "Anyway, you only had two beers, you wuss." "God, I'm gonna pay for that, too," He put a hand to his temple and shut his eyes. He had managed to subdue his strange little clairvoyance Titania had gifted--or cursed, he wasn't sure yet which it was--him, and now that he theoretically mastered that, a new pain surfaced. And it was intensified by the alcohol. "Hurts?" Arin whispered. He nodded. "I think we both learned our lesson," she leaned down up the last Sam Adams. Cracking it open, she cheered Brooklyn. "To us," she retorted, not drinking it yet. "May we continue this long, strange trip together, for there isn't another soul I would rather share it with." "Spare me the Grateful Dead analogy," Brooklyn groaned. "I think it appropriate, okay?" She wrapped her free arm around his waist and kissed his lightly. "Yes, I, the tight-assed Brit, think it's appropriate. And I don't even like the Dead." "I thought you were American," he retorted. "I am," She shrugged, then switching from her fading British accent to a fake French one. "But how do you figure why I speak with this outrrrrrrrageuous accent?" Brooklyn laughed, throwing his head back. Arin toasted the beer again, then, in a mockery of a baseball player, she pitched full force over the side of the stone wall. "To our lesson!" She cried. "May we never do something so stupid for the rest of our lives!" He laughed again, pulling her closer. "I love you," he whispered. "I know," she nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. He bit his lip. Of all the times he had told her that, she had never said it to him. Was it fear? Or uncertainty? He wasn't a mind-reader. Then again, knowing his luck, that would be his next little gift to pop up. Grumble. Or maybe she was a little afraid to say it. In the three months he had known her, she became wary to trust anyone after the incident with the Sidhe, after Oberon cursed her to a life of a gargoyle. Some nights, he would find her crying in a remote corner of the library, wishing to see the sun rise one more time. When he tried to comfort her, she would bring up the point that he had never known the sun; she was right, he hadn't. Now, he just held her, running a hand through her wind-tangled hair. God, was she beautiful in the lights of the fireworks. "Brook," she beckoned, glancing up at his long face. She brushed a wild lock of hair from his beak and gazed into his hazel eyes. "Yeah?" "Listen," she nodded toward the Statue of Liberty. "No matter all the shit that went on for Vietnam, as well as all the wars and theatres that went on throughout history of the States, there's always something that brings all of us Yanks together." "What's that?" "Patriotism," she retorted. "Proud patriotism." The beginning chords from the sound system down there blasted about one hundred twenty decibels as the grand finale began. "'I'm proud to be an American, were at least I know I'm free. And I won't forget the man who died, who gave that right to me. And I proudly stand up next to you, and I'll gladly still today, for it ain't no doubt I love this land, God Bless the USA!'" Arin sang along with the classic Lee Greenwood song as it played through the powerful sound system, the fireworks highlighting her hair and eyes, removing any moment that she was drunk. Everything about her was so beautiful, the copper red gargoyle noticed. As they watched the show, Brooklyn wrapped his wings gently around the two of them. As the fireworks began to die, he gazed once more into her emerald eyes. "You're so beautiful," he commented. "You're drunk," she giggled, and tilted her head up "We both are," he hissed after a minute. "But it isn't the booze talking." "You're right," she mumbled, trying to steal another kiss. "And you're handsome. What more could I ask for?" Please say it! His mind screamed. Please say you love me ! Instead, she pulled away suddenly, holding her head as she sat down against the wall. "I don't feel too good," she then moaned. He stared at her for a few seconds. Talk about both of them being alcohol intolerant. Brooklyn then joined her on the stone ground of the courtyard and, putting his arm around her shoulders, she leaned against his arm, and fell asleep. He checked her watch. They woke up about an hour ago, and she was already passed out. Poor girl. He pushed away all the hair out of her face, kissed her forehead lightly, add gazed up to the star-filled sky. *** Goliath and Elisa. Talon and Maggie. Claw and RC. Broadway and Angela. Xanatos and Fox. And Brooklyn and Arin, back at the castle. Lexington suddenly felt...well...alone as he watched the five couples present on Xanatos' yacht cuddling, holding hands, whatever. And God knew what Arin and Brook were up to, just pray Macbeth over there with his arms crossed over his chest don't find out. The clones seemed oblivious, like they were created without hormones, but Malibu seemed to have a perking interest with Delilah. "Hey, Sparrow," Kiva joined him at the bow of the boat. They had become fast friends over the three months they had known each other, just like he had with RC. "You've got something on your mind." He glanced at the African-American woman wearing a blue glow-in-the-dark necklaces as a headband. After RC practically became family, he really needed an outside friend. Of course, maybe the highest-ranked human in the Black Sword wasn't the best of choices, but they got along rather nicely. She had something most Black Sword failed to master: a sense of humor. "Just thinking," he shrugged. "About what?" He shrugged again. "Life," he answered truthfully. "Ah, yes, the topic that has all the scientists baffled," she grinned. "Y'know, Lex, sometimes you have to just hold your head high, grin, and say--" Abruptly, Burbank interrupted. "'Life is like a box of chocolates,'" he quoted in a fake southern drawl, "'you'll never know what you're gonna get. ' " "What'd I tell you?" Fang jumped to his feet and rapped on Burbank's bald spot. "Clan Greenbow, Alabama!" Burbank grinned idiotically. "When do we get home?" he then questioned. "The junkie's going through withdrawal!" Malibu Kiva laughed, fighting tears. "I love this nutty group!" she shouted. "'Nutty'?" Talon smirked. "This isn't nutty. Give them sugar, and Malibu his camera, now that gets downright hilarious." "Speaking of which," the blue clone of Brooklyn whipped out a palmcorder out from behind his jacket, "I found this in the captain's quarters." "You didn't--" Goliath chuckled somewhat. "--Get Broadway getting seasick and falling overboard? You bet," he wiggled his eyeridges. Angela giggled, hooking her arm with her beau's. Broadway blushed, although he was looking a little greener than usual. "That wasn't funny," he muttered. "You wanted to have dinner before we left, love" she waved her finger at him. Alexander, his first birthday come and gone a month ago, laughed and wobbly toddled over to Lex. He grabbed hold of his leg and silently demanded to be picked up. Len did, staring up at the Statue of Liberty. "Libby!" The boy cooed pointing to where Len was looking. "Smart kid," Kiva smiled, ruffling his unruly red hair. Xanatos beamed proudly, picking up his champagne glass. "Yep; there's no doubt where he gets it, either," he remarked proudly. "His mother." Hudson added nonchalantly, studying the contents of his Schlitz beer. Laughter filled the air as RC did a rimshot on the rail next to her. "Good one, old man," Xanatos chuckled. Hudson bowed deeply. Everyone was having such a good time, they failed to notice the fiery flash on top of the Eyrie Building, save Macbeth. "Christ," he muttered. "Who let those two have the fireworks?" His query went unanswered. *** Eyrie Building "That's COLD!!!" Arin screamed, waking up abruptly, as Brooklyn dumped her into the shower, clothes and all. "Okay, you want to face your father drunk, fine, I'll see you in Hell," he muttered, turning on the faucet in the sink and splashing his face. If anyone caught them drunk, especially Goliath and/or Macbeth, it might not matter if they lived to see another night. He then took a swig of his Coke sitting on the porcelain; hopefully that would hide the beer breath. "Who's bright idea was this, anyway?" She demanded, closing the curtain and peeling off her tee-shirt. She threw it at the far wall, hitting it with a heavy slap. "Um, could it be, oh, your's?" Brooklyn grumbled, taking another swig. "Oh, please. Do me a favor before the gang returns--" She stuck her hand out of the curtain, pointing to the open door. "--Go to the laundry room and grab a pair of Fox's jeans. I'll tailor when I get out. Also, do you by any chance still have my Metallica tee-shirt?" "I'm wearing it," he glanced down. She stuck her head out, gave him a once-over, and chuckled. "Boy, we're gonna have to get you a pair of jeans one of these days!" She whistled. "'Summer Shit and loincloths don't necessarily work." "So I got creative," he mumbled, pulling the shirt off, struggling with the newly-torn wing slots. A sopping wet pair of jeans caught him in the face. "Sorry," she giggled. "Anything else coming off?" He questioned with mock wishfulness. "Not until you bring me the jeans!" She snarled. Brooklyn snapped his fingers and exited. Arin snapped off the shower, grabbed a full-size towel, and wrapped it around her slim form. She still donned her soaked underwear, but they would dry faster than her shirt and jeans. Wringing out her hair, she grabbed the dry shirt. She still held a slight buzz, but that quick power nap did some wonders. As she pulled the shirt over her wings, then the rest of her body--a little ingenuity worked great--she heard a great crash out in the courtyard. "What the hell...?" she whispered, rewrapping the towel around her waist and poked her head out the door. "I heard it too," Brooklyn retorted from behind, tossing her the jeans. "I'll check it out." "Wait for me." Quickly, she stuck her talon between the stitches of the seat and ripped downward. So she owed her half-sis a new pair of jeans. She'll repent later as she hopped into them, struggling with the fly as she bounced out behind Brooklyn. "What is it?" "A late-model Pontiac Trans-Am," Brooklyn remarked flatly. "You're shitting me." Arin wandered into the courtyard, scratching her head as she approached the smoldering black car. Peering through the smoky windows, she could barely make out a human woman in the driver's seat giving her passenger hell. She rapped lightly on the glass. "Hate to interrupt you, folks," Arin greeted whimsically, "but this is a 'No Parking' zone." The door flung open, and the woman stormed out. "You don't exactly look like a cop to me," she glanced at both gargoyles. She obviously seemed oblivious to that fact as well. "Do you mind telling us where we are?" "Um, on top of the Eyrie Building," Brooklyn shrugged, nodding toward the skyline. "Christopher!" She snarled back into the car. Her companion cringed. "I only do what the little voices in my head tell me to do," he retorted meekly. The dark-haired woman turned back to Arin. "I've never heard of the Eyrie Building. Where are we, exactly?" "Uh...Manhattan?" The woman groaned, and yelled back at poor Christopher "You landed us a thousand miles away in New Amsterdam, you rriarrkk! Gimme that amulet before you hurt yourself." "'New Amsterdam'?" Brooklyn raised an eyeridge in confusion. Arin was equally perplexed. "New Amsterdam is New York, only they changed the name before the Revolutionary War," she explained for both Brooklyn and the visitors. "New York?" The woman slowly faced the two gargoyles once more. "I don't get it." "Maybe we should get this thing checked out, Kade," Christopher interjected. "Ask them where the nearest Mage Guild is." "'Mage Guild?'" Arin and Brooklyn questioned simultaneously. "Yeah, you know, The Union of Magic-Users of the Americas?" Christopher opened his door and stepped out. "You're a gargoyle?" Arin asked. "Half-dragon, common mistake," Chris looked down at his companion. "Y'know, Glenda, I don't think we're in Oz anymore . " "In what matter of speaking?" the woman, Kade, demanded, wiping soot from her car. "Have you heard Khhikkaeth's theory of parallel dimensions?" "'Parallel dimensions', bro?" "Uh-oh," Brooklyn rolled his eyes. "Okay, let's prove this with one question," Kade pointed to Brooklyn. "How many gargoyles in your immediate clan?" "Eight," he shrugged, dividing the entire conversation was going nowhere. "I can't believe it." Her tone was flat. "That damn gate of your's brought us to another dimension." "How do you figure from finding out clan size?" Arin demanded. "If this was 'our' New Amsterdam, or New York, as you call it, the clan there would be about, what, a thousand, Chris?" "I think," Chris shrugged, leaning against the roof of the car. "A clan that big?" Brooklyn raised his eyeridge again. "Well, the clan near our home is about two hundred, a tiny one in comparison." "But a big one big Maine's standards," Chris shrugged again. "You're from Maine?" Arin grinned. "Then you know Eddie and her clan?" "Which clan?" Chris asked. "Clan Winslow and the Outklaws." Kade shook her head. "There's a Clan Kennebec; that's as close as you get to Winslow. I should know; we both live there," Kade pointed oust. "This is too weird," Brooklyn walked up next to Arin. "Are you saying gargoyles are commonly known where you're from?" "Hell yeah," Kade nodded. "Where do you think 'night shift' comes from? Insomniac humans?" "Weird," he repeated. "Then how did you get here?" "Well," Chris walked around the front of the car and leaned against the driver's door next to Kade. He was lank, wearing a black tee-shirt, dark blue shredded jeans, and scuffed black combat boots. His wings were large and strongly structured; made for true flight, as opposed to gliding. A black bandanna tied back his unruly longish hair. With the exception of his face, tail, and wings, he had the body structure of a human. "We were scrounging around in Wells, just poking through the rocks, when I find this amulet of some sorts. Now, I'm a mage, so things like that attract me." "Of course, it doesn't help being a dragon, either," Kade elbowed her friend. "And what are you? Anyway, I do a simple reveal spell, and the next thing I know, the damned thing takes over my senses momentarily, showing me how to use it. And it brought us here." "And what amulet would this be?" Arin queried. "It called itself--" Chris scratched his head in thought. "--The Phoenix Gate?" Brooklyn finished, a little fear tainting his voice. "You know of it?" "Hell yeah," Brooklyn nodded. "Our leader had possession of it, until he lost it in the Seas of Avalon." "You have an Avalon, but you don't have a Mage Guild," Kade remarked. "Primitive." "Well," Chris pulled it out of his pocket, gold and azure blue amulet that glinted off the lights of Manhattan, "then I guess it belongs to your clan." And, with that, the half-dragon handed over the Phoenix Gate to Brooklyn. The copper gargoyle stared at Chris, then at the amulet, then back into Chris's golden- green eyes. And he put his hand on the gold surface. And, as if the incantation was spoken, the fiery sphere of the Phoenix Gate engulfed the two males. And the amulet fell lifeless on the scorched ground where Brooklyn and Christopher stood. "Brook?" Arin whispered, venturing closer to the circle. . "As, rrriarkk," Kade hissed. "What happened?" "Probably the same thing that brought us here," Kade ran her hand through her thick hair. "Rrriarkk!" "What's 'riark'?" Arin asked honestly as she gently picked up the amulet. "You don't want to know," the woman shrugged. "So, what now?" "I don't know," the gargoyle whispered. "I don't know what to do. I would probably know if I wasn't a little drunk, but--" "I say we go after them. If that thing took them somewhere, and stayed here, my bro and your boyfriend are as good as--well, screwed." "Why?" "I know the incantation to activate it. 'Burn down the walls of time and space.' Chris used it, using Latin." "Makes sense, since dead languages hold more power," Arin nodded. "I studied a little magic theory with an old friend back in London." "So you are a magic-user?" "Not really," "Well, you said you studied magic theory!" "A little! Damn, if it's true what you said, then Brooklyn and your brother--" "He's my best friend, Chris." "--Brooklyn and Chris could be anywhere, anywhen, any realm." Arin traced the pattern on the amulet. "Did Chris say anything about anything else to activate it?" Kade shook her head. "Then I might as well go--" "Hey, wait a minute! I'm coming too!" The woman reached into her car, popped the trunk, and went around to the back and fished around amongst books, clothes, inflatable beach toys, various fireworks (some which Kade pocketed in her letter jacket) and, finally, she pulled out a sheathed claymore. "Hello, my precious," the woman cooed, as if talking to a baby, "did you miss me, my precious? I sure missed you! Don't worry. we're going somewhere where you can come out and play, so those nasty little piggies won't try to confiscate you...." "Um...Kade?" Arin guessed. "Are you and your friend ready to go?" "Oh, yeah," Kade fastened the sword onto her back and nodded. "I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name..." "Arin MacDuff," the gargoyle retorted a little curtly. "I've never met a gargoyle with a last name." "I used to be human." "Ah, the old Sidhe curse, eh?" "Shut up," Arin commanded. "That's a very touchy subject." "Fine. Now, let's go. I m picturing my stoic and pacifist bro beaten slowly eaten by a bunch of cannibalistic drakes...." Arin gave Kade a weird look as she held the Gate in front of her. "'Deflagrate muri tempi et intervalia,'" she whispered, recalling her Latin. "Ah, you speaketh the language, you cultured soul." "Rather fluently, thank you very much." And the two women vanished in a ball of flame. ***END PART ONE OF "GLIDING ON THE WINDS OF TIME". As we speak, I am finishing up on Part Two ("God I LOVE OCR scanning!!!"), although Macs hate me to the point of reading the dot matrix print wrong. Shrug. Next time, Arin and Kade find themselves in 957 C.E. Scotland, where the Vikings try to sack the castle, but they didn't take into account the dragon on Wyvern's side. And Arin is put into a life-and-death situation that will prove fatal if she doesn't call on her fae heritage. All this, and more, plus Shadow! ("AAARRGGHH! Cyrway, the eyes...they're still following me...! Put the picture in the living room! That'll scare Angie out of making a mess there!" --ShadowBrook, my on-campus editor when I can't get to Mercedes or Sombrero.) Stay tuned! "Neon Knights" by Black Sabbath from the album Heaven and Hell. "Proud to be an American" by Lee Greenwood. --Black Blade "My Cosmic Song Goes On For Eternity"