***
DISCLAIMER: Gargoyles aren't mine. Rather, they are the property of Disney and Buena Vista. Anyone not covered is mine pretty much, except the dudes and dudettes who belong to my bestest best friend Jenny De Salme or the Warlord of the Air, Mary C. Pletcsh. Enjoy, and there is a slight MATURE CONTENT, though it's not as bad as what I usually write...the Outklaws make their presense known...
***
February 2009
Though it was pretty quiet tonight, Brooklyn knew Sevarius could attack at any given moment.
Though silently, he prayed not tonight.
Since July of last year, Sevarius had been trying his clones against the island of Manhattan; Most of the humans there had evacuated to upstate New York or Connecticut.
The gargoyles, as well as the Xanatoses and Macbeth stayed.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed all thoughts of the battles out of his mind.
Tonight, instead of practicing swordplay with Hudson or laying out battle strategies with Goliath, he sat in the darkened library, rocking gently in an old Canadian rocker, staring down in wonder at the tiny infant in his arms, sleeping soundly in folds of a gentle cotton quilt.
Who would have thought, he pondered. Who would have thought that one day, gargoyles would live like humans? And yet, here he was, wearing a worn pair of jeans and a black tee-shirt, rocking his infant daughter to sleep!
His daughter!
His daughter...
Smiling softly, he shifted her gently as he stared out the bay window.
One night of peace, God, he pleaded silently. All I ask for is one night of peace to spend with my family.
Of course, his family was not there. His mate had gone with her father to Long Island to survey the damage there and search for some survivors of the first and second clone raids. His brother Broadway was out on patrol with the leader, Goliath. Angela, his dearest friend aside from his mate, was in the kitchen, feeding her own newly hatched son. His other brother, Lexington, had gone to Delphi, Greece, with his mate Chimura, a personal leave.
Right now, however, was the perfect moment to him. No outside distractions would disturb the peace between him and his daughter.
She awoke with a yawn, stretching her arms. He could feel her tiny wings shift in his arm as her eyes darted to look up at her father's beaked face.
"Morning, sweetheart," he whispered. She gurgled a bit sleepily, then reached upward and grasped a lock of his long white hair. "Well, you're in a good mood tonight!" Gently, he pried her tiny fingers from the lock and held her high above his head, staring up at the infant. It was still an awesome concept almost too much to fathom, that he had helped create this tiny creature.
"Kathryn, my Little Sun," he whispered, lowering her into a gentle hug. "My precious Little Sun..."
She cooed an affirmation as though she had already knew what he was talking about. In turn he nuzzled the top of her head, downy snow white hair in a short slight curl atop.
She was perfect, as beautiful as her mother.
Kathryn settled back into the crook of his arm, a wave of peace engulfing the two of them, father and daughter, to the point that even Brooklyn was feeling a little sleepy. Letting loose a great yawn, he stood to switch to the large overstuffed armchair nearby. Another yawn, and he stretched out, one leg swung over one on of the arms, his wings draped over the back of the chair; within a minute, he joined Kathryn in a deep, comfortable sleep.
A dream...
The vast plain of the Wastelands...
...His Wastelands...
...no longer plains, however...he was lord of this world...it was now a realm of mountains and forests, of a world only a gargoyle could truly appreciate.
The Lord of the Wastelands stared out on his world, surveying the handiwork of ten years in the Real World but aeons here.
Next to him stood a tall woman, his daughter.
"When I leave the Real World," he began "this will become your haven."
"But Father," she protested, "you will leave me?"
"I will never truly leave you, Little Sun," he retaliated. "My physical self will someday, when the Wars are nearly over."
"Not soon, I pray."
"No..." he sucked in a breath. "You will be nearly an adult...and I will see your brother once before I do."
"A brother?" His daughter hissed.
"It will not be for another thirty years, Little Sun."
"I do not want you to ever leave me."
"Then I won't. But all things die in time. It cannot be helped. But for as long as you need me, I'll be there for you."
She only nodded, gazing out toward the perpetual twilight.
"And this...?"
"This is our realm, Little Sun. Only we hold power to shape it as we wish. You are much too young to worry about that now. When you're a little older, I will explain better."
There was a long silence.
Then:
"I love you, Father."
There was a light brush against his cheek. With a short, quizzical purr, Brooklyn stirred awake, though Kathryn remained fast asleep. Over him stood his mate, smiling radiantly.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she quipped, kissing him once more.
"Good morning yourself, Bright Sun," he mumbled somewhat, straightening his posture but careful not to disturb Kathryn. "How did patrol go tonight?"
Arin MacDuff's brilliant smile abruptly fell as she shook her head.
"Da managed to get a family of four out of Queens before the clones found us out. We had nineteen to begin with...they just picked them off like..." Tears welled in her eyes. "Brooklyn, they killed them...children, babies, anyone..."
Sensing her distress, Brooklyn gathered his mate into his one-armed embrace, coaxing her to share his lap with their daughter.
"Why is this happening, love?" she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder. "Why is this madness going on?"
Because Sevarius wants perfection, he almost retorted. Because individualism is flawed. Because the scientist wants to be in control, able to rule a multitude of creatures who will do anything he asked to do.
Because something corrupted Sevarius's mind.
But Brooklyn chose to remain silent, nuzzling the top of her head in deep thought.
"How was she tonight?" Arin changed the subject with a slight waiver in her voice, smoothing out their daughter's hair.
"An angel, as usual," he smiled.
"Has she eaten?"
"She had a bottle about two hours ago; she seemed content when she went to sleep, probably a half-hour ago."
"Then I'll let her sleep...Da and Goliath would like to talk to you when you get a chance."
"I'll do that right now," he yawned, stretching out his legs. Kathryn stirred as well, opening her bright eyes and mewed when she saw her mother.
"You do that; I never get a chance to hold her," Arin joked as he passed the hatchling to her mother. "Hey, there, precious...did you have a good time with Daddy?" Kissing the top of Kathryn's head, Arin claimed the seat her mate just stood from.
"I think so," Brooklyn smiled, leaning over to kiss Arin once more before leaving the library.
Once out in the hall, his smile faded.
If both Goliath and Macbeth wanted to talk to him, it couldn't be good news. After the Pentagon deemed it necessary for Long Island to be evacuated, the Sevarius's hordes were constantly trying to get through to Manhattan. Thus far, with the help of Arin's father and the Xanatos', they had limited success. But the Clone Troops had all but purged the island; if any human still remained there, their only hope was the clan's patrols.
Taking long, quick strides, he met the clan leader and the immortal Scot in the courtyard, along with Hudson and the elder Xanatos. Also there, though a few yards away, was the clan leader of Clan Winslow, the closest gargoyle clan to Manhattan, from Maine. Eddie was what Hudson called a very unorthodox gargoyle; she and her clan were all very human-influenced, but the Winslow gang were dedicated and honourable, even though one of their favourite pastimes included the torment of a rather trivial football rivalry between their home town high school team and the one Xanatos played for when he still lived in Bar Harbor, Maine.
Eddie saw him, nodded, and walked toward the elder three.
To the east, a purplish haze domed the quarantined area of Long Island.
"It's getting far worse than what we thought," Macbeth stated forcefully. "I don't think we'll be able to do this ourselves."
"Agreed." Goliath nodded, stroking his chin in deep thought. Brooklyn suddenly realised the lavender gargoyle was beginning to show his age with the coming of this war; less than a year had passed since Sevarius had proclaimed things were to be done his way or else, and the once regal male had changed, not necessarily for the better. His hair, deep brown nine months ago, now was streaked with silver, and his eyes shifted nervously, matching the scowl he usually sported. "What was our loss this battle?"
"Two XCG, and Macbeth's guard Banquo," Xanatos retorted. "Bringing the grand total to seventeen since this madness started."
"Banquo was a good man, and an excellent fighter," Macbeth shook his head. "As were many of people we've lost."
"Then it's unanimous," Hudson stated. "We need reinforcements."
"Easier said than done," Brooklyn spoke up.
"The US Government had pulled out support," Xanatos retorted. "Until Sevarius decides to attack a more general area, we're, excuse the phrase, shit out of luck."
"What about gargoyle reinforcements?" Brooklyn suggested. "I mean, we have Clan Winslow, but, sorry, Ed, that may not be enough."
"No shit," Eddie grumbled, not at all ashamed of her use of language around the elders. "We came here to win, not get our asses whupped by some wannabe gargoyle clones."
Brooklyn continued. "We know of at least four clans off the top of our heads; one of them, Clan Ishimura, is huge."
"Maybe that's all we need," Goliath nodded. "Very well, then. I will contact Ishimura. Xanatos, what's the situation with the Steel Clan?"
"Still maintaining a steady holding pattern over lower Manhattan," the younger human stated.
"What about Chaz's guys?" Brooklyn asked Eddie.
"BMFers are still out, but so far they're pretty much patrolling the border. No attacks yet," the beaked female retorted.
"Any word on Labyrinth Clan?" Macbeth demanded just as Brooklyn grimaced.
"RC just reached me," he stated. "Shit...Xanatos, get the infirmary prepped! Burbank's down! They're all heading back to base immediately!"
Xanatos nodded without another word and bolted into the castle, shouting at the staff inside.
"Shit..." Brooklyn raced to the edge of the parapets, searching out the sky for the other New York clan.
(fang's bringing burbank in the truck,) RC informed him. (the rest of us are airbourne and outside the parameter, almost inside the steel clan pattern.)
(hurry!) Brooklyn projected back; aloud, he regarded the elder, "Fang's got the truck, transporting Burbank. Better to inform Xanatos we're expecting a ground deliver." To Goliath, he barked, "We should call back all forces...we need a better strategy than hit and run."
"The lad's got a point," Macbeth agreed.
"Ack! Do I look like a messenger?" Hudson grumbled, groaning as he broke out in a run on all fours.
"Macbeth, you call back the troops," Goliath remarked finally. "Brooklyn, you're in charge until I receive word from Kai and his clan."
"Eddie, call back any of your clan still out," Brooklyn ordered, knowing well enough she wouldn't do a damn with anything Goliath said. "Later I want to set up another fortified patrol around the bridges." She saluted a one fingered salute and whipped out her walkie talkie as Brooklyn spun on the ball of his foot to head back into the castle. Macbeth had already pulled out the transmitter and relayed the order to the makeshift troops still out.
Shaking his head, Brooklyn psychically reached out for the Labyrinth telepath.
(i'm here, brook,) RC retorted. (we're inside the safe zone. fang's gonna be arriving in a few moments.)
(thanks for the update,) the brick red gargoyle replied, striding out of the office and towards the elevator to the infirmary.
Inside the elevator cab was a muscular woman in a flight suit with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the mirrored wall and staring at her feet.
"Fleance," Brooklyn greeted with a slight nod. "I'm sorry about your brother."
"Yeah, well, shit happens," the woman grumbled in a thick lower Brooklyn accent, running a hand through her short red hair. "He should have been less Top Gun about the whole deal..."
"It's just going to hurt more blaming yourself for Banquo's death," Brooklyn warned, concerned.
"Fuck you," she growled. "I should have co-piloted him out of there, should have been with him...should have died with him..." suddenly she choked. "What the hell's going on now?"
"We're calling back the troops we have left, as well as trying to get reinforcements."
"Ha!" Fleance laughed shortly. "What good will that do? We underestimated the bastard. My brother's dead, we're all up Shit Creek without a paddle. Goddammit..." She slid down the wall, burying her face into her arms. "Goddammit..."
"Fleance, why don't you take a couple of nights off of patrol. Do some surveillance from Security. Stay in the castle until you think you can pilot again."
"Fuck, Brook, that's not the problem!" she shouted, staring up angrily at him, her brown eyes rimmed with tears. "Banquo was the best, better than me...ask Macbeth. The fuckers ripped through his jet like nothing I've seen before. He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell." Sighing, she directed her gaze into the mirrored door, gazing into the reflection of a woman who hadn't slept in two days, haggard and torn. "If they killed him without a thought, what makes you think we have a chance?"
"Because many of us haven't lost hope," Brooklyn retorted, his voice quivering. "I see my daughter and with her I see hope for us yet. We will win, Fleance. We will never surrender, never give up."
The doors opened, and Brooklyn exited, leaving Fleance in the elevator. The doors closed, and abruptly her heard the mercenary sobbing.
(rc, we may have to work with fleance...she's pretty bad off...) he 'pathed.
(i don't blame her...if i lost shawn, i don't know what i'd do...i'm just glad he's still in the 'frisco...anyway, we'll only be able to help her if she wants it...if she doesn't, well, there's not much we can do about, ne?) RC's mindvoice indicated a shrug. (b-t-dub, we're back, in the courtyard. it's starting to snow, and fang should be here now.)
(i don't sense him nor burbank,) Brooklyn retorted worriedly.
(me neither...i'm worried now...they should have got here before us.)
(how are the roads?)
(pretty clear, save in the more congested part of town--betcha five bucks fang tried a shortcut and got stuck in a snow bank?)
(i won't bet, but i've got a sinking suspicion you're right. mal!)
(yo!) the clone saluted.
(i want you to grab a couple of xcg and search out for burbank and fang...i'll be joining you...meet me in the primary garage. Bring a med kit.) His attention returned to RC. (inform goliath where i am...we don't have much time if we want to save burbank.)
(roger wilco!) both the telepath and Brooklyn's clone agreed.
The gargoyle sighed, backtracking to the elevator. It was still on his floor, and he wasn't surprised to find Fleance still in there.
An idea struck him.
"We need your help," he stated bluntly. "Fang was supposed to bring in Burbank, but hasn't returned. I have a bad feeling Fang tried to take a shortcut and got stuck on an unplowed roads. We need a driver who can handle the conditions."
Fleance didn't make any indication she even heard him.
"Fleance..."
"Why don't you ask Ed?" Fleance grumbled.
"Because Eddie's got another project. We need you to crack drive."
"I'll do it, only because I know the boss'd ask me the same thing," she grumbled.
"Thank you," he exhaled. "I wasn't sure how many XCG could boast they could handle a fifth-wheel in the middle of the Yukon..."
"Glare ice, and zero visibility," Fleance added, smiling sadly. "Brakes wet and steering going..."
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and the human and gargoyle raced over to the two Xanacorp guards waiting by a rumbling Dodge 3500, its V-10 Cummings diesel engine echoing loudly.
"That thing's gonna handle like a tank," Fleance grumbled. "It'll get shitty gas mileage, it's gonna be all over the road, and we'll be lucky the thing doesn't start donuting on the Avenue."
"Can you handle it?" Brooklyn demanded.
"Hell yeah," she smirked, regaining her old cocky self.
"Yo, Brook!" Mal shouted as he stepped out from the other elevator across the garage.
"Ready, Mal?" he demanded as he motioned the two guards--Stevens and Taylor, by the embroidered names on their Kevlar jackets--to load on.
"As I'll ever be!" the blue clone nodded, tossing Brooklyn a leather biker jacket and a two-handed broadsword. Noticing Brooklyn's grimace at the weapon, Malibu added, "Listen, bro, I know how much you hate western swords, but it was either that or the claymore, and I know you hate swinging that thing around even worse."
"Load up, you two; we don't have much time." He expertly shrugged on the jacket, fastening up the tailored wingslot flap with one hand and slinging the sword over one shoulder with the other. "Fleance, once we get Burbank, we're trusting you to get us back as smoothly as possible."
"You'll never know you're riding in a diesel," she bragged, hopping into the driver's side. Mal had already claimed the back of the club cab, and Stevens and Taylor were in the ten-foot bed, arming up their lasers.
"Let's roll out!" Brooklyn ordered, claiming shotgun, slamming the door just in time as Fleance shifted into first and popped the clutch, leaving a patch of rubber on the concrete.
"Arin?" Angela peered into the library's dark shadows, one light in the far corner, dim.
"We're over here, Angela," Arin called out from near the light.
"Brooklyn's gone out," the lavender female revealed, padding silently to the corner, her son Thomas in her arms. "Fang and Burbank haven't returned yet, and Burbank's pretty bad off, according to Talon."
"I figured such..." Arin sighed. Angela heard the slight gargoyle stand get up. Arin walked around the bookshelf obscuring the reading corner, Kathryn held in one arm, sleeping. "This is so insane...why is Sevarius doing this?"
"Who knows?" Angela shook her head sadly. "David says it's because Sevarius wanted a controlled order...he's always been like that. Apparently, Sevarius's definition of controlled order is one that he creates himself."
"David was once that way," Arin sighed again. "Then Alex came into his life...I guess children are like that."
"So I've noticed," Angela smirked, repositioning her wide-eyed son so she too carried him one-armed. Giving a sisterly hug to the shorter woman, they looked at each other and giggled.
"Who would have thought us mothers?" Arin smirked.
"Worse yet, who would have thought Broadway and Brooklyn fathers?"
"Not me, that's for sure," the tan woman stifled a laugh.
"Me neither," Angela whispered. "Actually, what surprised me was how calmly Macbeth took it when he found out you were pregnant."
"The you missed what happened back home...'Brooklyn,'" her tone dropped comically a couple of octaves, "'We need to talk...' And talk he did...with the family claymore..."
"Oh no..." Angela burst out laughing.
"Oh yes...chasing Brook all over the house, screaming in Gaelic...why do you think Brook hates claymores?"
"He said--"
"--they're too heavy to swing around even with two hands, I know...lame excuse, eh?"
"Poor Brooklyn...I'm surprised your father didn't kill him."
"I was afraid him getting castrated..." Arin lost it in a fit of laughter. Kathryn stirred, but did not wake.
"Arin! Angela!" One of the gargoyles from Clan Winslow, an aquamarine female named Mercedes, skidded to a stop and attempted to catch her breath. "Goliath's calling council!"
"Things aren't going good, I take it," Arin's cheerful mood dropped suddenly.
"If you call getting reinforcements bad news..." Mercedes gasped with a slight smile, then bolted to spread the news.
"About time," Arin retorted. Angela nodded.
"We'd better take the kids to the nursery," Arin suggested.
Out in the courtyard, a good one-hundred and fifty sentients gathered. The XCG, the Wyvern and Labyrinth clans, the Xanatoses, and a few other allies from the area joined around Goliath, Xanatos, and Macbeth, along with Coyote 6.1, a sentient but controllable new version of the infamous Pack robot which towered twelve feet high over everyone else in the courtyard.
"We're missing a few people," Xanatos hissed to Goliath. "Stevens and Taylor's missing."
"Brooklyn and Malibu went to find Fang and Burbank, along with a couple of the XCG," Goliath replied. "Those are probably the two gone."
"Fleance is also unaccounted for," Macbeth added.
"She went with Brook and Mal," RC piped up from the front. The Scot raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"I can see where they could use her driving skills, but I was certain she would have taken off for a couple of days up north," he exclaimed. "She and Banquo were a tight team."
"Angela and Arin aren't here either," Broadway remarked.
"They will be," Mercedes breathed, running up to the front line in front of the large turquoise gargoyle. "Where's Eddie?"
"We're here," Angela and Arin broke through the crowd.
"Right here," the green female called out at the same time, standing along side Macbeth. "Chaz and the BMFers are basing now...they report no unusual activity in their sector and should be pulling into the garage right about now."
"Then we can begin. We'll brief the others later," Xanatos suggested.
"I prefer boxers!" Coyote chortled. The crowd laughed half-heartedly.
"I'm a tighty-whitey man myself!" Claymore, one of the infamous branch of Clan Winslow, the Outklaws, added.
"With the Barney print!" his brother Smith shouted.
"I like Teletubbies better!" Smith's spiritual twin Wesson interjected.
"Come on! Care Bears could kick all those dudes' asses!" another Outklaw, Colt, shouted.
"Enough!" Eddie snarled. "Do I have to get Mr. Boomstick and Mr. Rocksalt out again?"
The four yipped and shut up.
"Gummy Bears could kick the Care Bears' asses, beg to differ," Coyote whispered.
Xanatos looked at Eddie, an eyebrow cocked.
"You were the one who programmed his sense of humour," she retorted. "I only helped with the metal machining."
Goliath shook his head, then called out, "We need some order here!"
"Oh, shit," Eddie slapped her face.
Amazingly, the din died down without so much as an expected Outklaw quip.
"Though the US Government refuses to bring aide, we've managed to locate reinforcements," Xanatos began.
"It's gotten that bad?" one of the XCG questioned aloud.
"If you've noticed, we've lost three today, Keith Douglass and Sarah Kay, both in firefights, and Macbeth's man Banquo Kennedy, when his mini-jet went down. Burbank and Fang are missing." the billionaire retorted.
"Clan Ishimura, a gargoyle clan in Japan, has agreed to send as many of their numbers as they can." Goliath glanced through the crowd. "In turn, they knew of a clan in New Zealand, whom they contacted. Clan Stewart Island will send fifteen of their warriors."
"Chapter Five, a local motorcycle gang, has also joined the cause," Eddie added. "Though seemingly of questionable reputation, these guys aren't the type to back down from a challenge."
"Eddie will be handling new volunteers coming in from the streets from now on," Xanatos explained.
"Redneck Rampage anyone?" Coyote jested just before Xanatos held up a remote and pointed to a little red button on it labeled "mute".
"Coyote, before I press this button," he smirked, "What's the situation of the Steel Clan?"
"All seems nominal, save for two MIA..." the robot retorted. "I'm still picking up their transmissions, but they're heading inland. Probably a malfunction."
"Fix it," Xanatos ordered simply. The giant head nodded, then, turning with a hop, Coyote blasted his rockets and took off into the snowy night.
"Fox will be flying out as soon a council dissolves," Xanatos continued. "She'll be stopping in Ishimura, New Zealand, and Sidney, Australia, then return here late tomorrow evening, or very early the next morning. Till then, I know we can hold the fort."
"Is there any other order of business?" Macbeth asked the general group.
"I'm asking for three volunteers for the flight, at least one with experience flying," Fox called out. "It's going to be a long haul, and I'll need a co-pilot and, excuse the expression, stewardesses."
Three XCG and Brentwood, the simple-minded savant clone of Lexington, stepped forward.
"Great. Meet me in the hangar in a half-hour," The red-headed woman smiled cock-eyed.
"Any more business?" Macbeth called out.
A hand was raised, near the back.
Eddie called out the owner's name with a groan. "Yeah, Mauser?"
"What about my old man?" He asked quite seriously.
There was a slight silence.
"Hey, Xanatos, you mind a long distance telephone call to Germany?" Eddie asked.
Xanatos raised an eyebrow again.
"I'm afraid to ask," he grumbled.
"You're clear, Maus," Eddie nodded.
"Goodie," the Outklaw leader wrung his hands with an evil grin on his face as he walked back into the castle, cackling to himself.
"Do we really wanna know?" Macbeth demanded.
"Let's just say it could be an ace up our sleeve," Eddie retorted nonchalantly.
"More like a rocket launcher," Colt interjected. Snickers rose from both branches of Clan Winslow.
"Any more business before the lynching of any members of the Outklaws?" Macbeth sighed, seeming dead serious.
"Excluding women and children!" Monika, Mauser's mate, shouted.
"And my mate!" Eddie protested.
"I'm wearing Barney underwear, does that count as 'children'?" Clay interjected.
After that, all was quiet.
"Good...council dissolved," Goliath nodded, putting a hand to his head. "Why can't we go through a meeting without any unnecessary humour?"
The green female shrugged, joining her clan. Under her breath so that only they could hear, she added, "And if you weren't such a tight-assed prick about tradition, I probably would ask them to stop it...."
"We're too mean to poor Goliath," Colt smirked, pulling out a cigarette from behind his ear.
"Eddie, serious," Mercedes pointed out. "Shouldn't we try to work with Goliath rather than oppose him?"
"Normally I'd agree with you, sis," she remarked. "But he holds tenth century tradition too closely...it's the 21st century, for Pete's sake! It's bad enough I've agreed to minimal firearms..." her grumble trailed off. "Brook's got right ideas; I'll follow him before I follow some pompous old-timer."
Magnum, not only the largest gargoyle in the clan, but quite possibly the largest sentient in the Resistance, second to Coyote, took his mate by her shoulders gently.
"Still, we've got to play by his rules," he whispered.
"Easy for you, hun...you don't use guns by your choice...I choose to use them, and he denies them. I don't like that logic."
"Speaking of Brook," Clay reminded. "I wonder how he's doing?"
Inside the cab was pretty quiet: Fleance concentrating on her driving, Brooklyn's eyes closed, searching for their lost comrades, and Malibu, staring off into space, deep in thought.
Finally, the blue gargoyle cleared his throat.
"Hey, Flea, I'm sorry about your brother," Mal whispered. "I mean, I've really got a sinking feeling Burbank's not going to make it..."
"I don't want to talk about it..." Fleance clenched her teeth, staring straight ahead.
"Mal, let her be," Brooklyn warned. "I think I found them...two of them, one really weak...corner of 11th and Bleaker..."
Mal sniffed and quoted in a surfer-dude tone, "Nope! This is only Ninth Street!"
Brooklyn gave his clone an icy look, then stared back out the whirling white.
"Oh...shit...."
"What?" Mal remanded.
"Clone activity near there..." Brooklyn hissed. "Fleance, do you think you could handle this heap of metal to go any faster?"
"Now that you've got a location, sure thing!" the woman gave the Ram more gas. Malibu leaned forward, peering out into the swirling flurries. Brooklyn rolled down the window, stuck his head out, and called out to Stevens and Taylor, informing them on the situation.
"How the hell did the clones get through the Steel Clan barricade?" Stevens shouted.
"Beats me!" Brooklyn retorted. "But we aim to find out!"
Fleance cried out a warning as she clutched and braked the powerful truck, downshifting and steering with the skid. The humans in the back grabbed onto the rail bars for support.
"I see something!" Malibu shouted.
"Fleance--"
"Right ahead of you, Brook!" the woman flipped on the KC lights and eased the Ram to a stop.
A GMC Yukon, half-buried into a snowbank, its front smashed around a telephone pole, was revealed by the powerful halogen lights.
"Mal, is that the truck?" Brook demanded, getting out of the Dodge.
Mal said nothing, only nodded as he followed.
"Fang?" the brick red gargoyle called out. He didn't receive a verbal answer, but sensed a mental stirring from within the Yukon. "Mal, with me. Fleance, Taylor, Stevens, stay with the truck. Weapons ready, everyone...there's clones around."
"Just what I need," Fleance grumbled, pulling a laser from underneath the seat.
Brooklyn unsheathed the broadsword as Malibu unhooked his colapsu-chucks from his belt, pole form, the two beaked gargoyles venturing toward the truck. Motioning for Malibu to circle the SUV, Brooklyn ventured to the driver's side as his clone circled around to the back. With a slightly nervous hand, Brooklyn took hold of the handle and pulled the door open.
The cougar mutate, with a groan, tumbled out of the seat and landed on his hands and knees on the snowy ground.
"That's the last time I drive without a seatbelt," he grumbled, shaking his head. Brooklyn sheathed his sword and helped Fang to his feet.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"Hit some black ice back there, and I lost control," Fang moaned, wiping at a cut on his forehead. "I shoulda taken it easy, but, hey, Burbank's not--" the mutate's eyes widened. "Shit, Burbank!"
"I got him!" Malibu shouted, pulling the black-bearded clone out from the back hatch. "We gotta get him back to Wyvern...I don't know how much longer he has...his pulse is weakening...and I don't think the crash helped him much."
"Put him in the cab, Fang, you all set?"
"Nothing a Band-Aid couldn't fix," Fang growled.
"Get in the back with Taylor and Stevens...we'll need some ground-to-air fire if we're attacked."
"Attacked? Here?"
"Some clones got through the Steel Clan, according to Brook," Mal explained.
"Shit...okay, I got it covered," the winged cat gave the gargoyles a thumbs up, then hopped into the back of the truck. "Okay, who's got a light?"
Helping Malibu carry the unconscious Burbank into the truck, Brooklyn kept an eye skyward, watching out for any hostile activity.
"Fleance, get us back to base!" he ordered once everyone was settled in.
"Way ahead of you!" she retorted, shifting into first and purposely completing a one-eighty donut and heading back to Fourth Avenue.
Fang knocked on the back window, grabbing Mal's attention. The blue clone slid open the latch.
"Coyote's trailing us, let you dudes know," the mutate pointed to a bright gold object high in the sky amidst the snowflakes.
"Our main concern is to get back to base," Brooklyn repeated. "Whatever Coyote wants can wait until we get back."
"How many clones did you pick up, anyway?" Fang demanded.
"Five, six at the most...there was something weird about them. though..." Brooklyn shook his head. "Something I don't think we should shrug off..." Reaching for the cell phone, he dialed up the Eyrie. "Get me Xanatos...it's Brooklyn...Xanatos, we have 'em...listen, we need a patrol around Mid-town...I've picked up about six clones in the area...we're heading back to base. Have a med team in the garage, both of them are hurt, but Burbank's worse off...See you then." He hit the "End" button and propped his foot up on the seat, leaning his head against his fist. "What a night..."
"You're telling me?" Fleance scoffed, her deep voice quivering a bit.
Alex grumbled, slouching on the brightly coloured couch of the nursery. Kathryn and Thomas were in their cribs, sleeping soundly, Renet and Petey, mutate children, played quietly with some Barbie dolls, trying not to wake the hatchlings.
Bored, the thirteen year old summoned a small orb of fae light and began tossing it around the room with a flick of his finger.
Suddenly, Renet stopped playing, put down Skipper and gazed out the window.
"What's wrong?" Petey demanded to the more human-appearing mutate.
She glanced at the dark lionine child and shook her head.
"Mom's distressed," she whispered. "They don't think Burbank's gonna make it."
Alex banished the fae light and stared at the tiger-furred girl.
"He's gonna die?" he mouthed. He had heard of people dying lately, but no one had been anyone he really knew.
Suddenly, he had a sinking feeling that more were going to die before this siege ended.
With a depressed sigh, he hugged his knees to his chest, his eyes focusing on the shadows by the cribs.
A movement from them alerted him, his eyebrow arching in curiosity. Magically, he sent a general probe into the area, only to have it reflected back onto him.
"Guys, we have an intruder!" he barked, leaping to his feet and bolting to the cribs.
The darkened shadows gave form to something huge, roughly seven feet tall.
The three of them, Renet, Petey, and Alex huddled around each other, staring up in fear at the supernatural creature the shadows belched forth.
"Honestly, children, do you think I would actually harm you?" a deep baritone voice chortled as the shadows condensed and dispersed, leaving a broad-shouldered gargoyle the colour of ash.
"Well, popping out of the shadows like that doesn't exactly reinforce the idea, sir," Alex retorted.
"I apologise for the directness of my approach," the gargoyle smirked. "But I fear Goliath is none too fond of me. I only came here to see my first granddaughter...that and talk to Brooklyn."
A slight stirring behind the large gargoyle alerted the part-fae as a small burgundy female gargoyle, equivalent to his own age, peeked out at him.
"Caligo," Renet whimpered in realisation. "My mother told me of you...."
"The telepath, Raquelle?" Caligo raised an eye ridge. Renet nodded with a gulp.
The large gargoyle laughed heartfully.
"You needn't not fear me, children. I couldn't bring myself to harm any child, human, gargoyle--"
"--What about mutates?" Petey trembled, regaining his voice.
"Children are children, no matter what the species," the gargoyle stated, staring down in Kathryn's crib. She stirred, opening her hazel eyes and gazed up at the grey gargoyle.
"Father?" the girl whispered. "Is it all right if I meet the other children?"
"Of course," he retorted absently, a slow smile crept across his beak. As the girl cautiously approached Renet, Petey, and Alex, the large gargoyle touched the infant's cheek. She took hold of his finger and cooed.
"Mei Deae," He whispered. "Vivae iterum eram..."
"Salve, socem Caligo," Arin MacDuff greeted at the doorway, her voice to the point the larger gargoyle couldn't tell if she had truly meant the greeting or was irate to find him here.
"Salve, nurum Arin," he nodded as she strode to the crib side opposite of him.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Arin whispered, a proud smile slowly forming on her sharp face.
"Her eyes remind me so much of Mei Deae, Brooklyn's mother," he sighed, resting a hand on the slight female's shoulder.
"I don't know about that chin," she smirked. "I think she got that from my side of the family...Alex's got the same point to his...." she laughed a little nervously.
"Arin, where is your mate?" Caligo whispered. "I must talk to him...my time is short."
"I see..." she casted her eyes down on her daughter's form. "I don't know when he'll be back, though."
He nodded. "Then I will wait...I think I'll be able to afford that luxury for the moment."
"Who is the girl?" the tan female nodded to the child who had come with him. She seemed to have created an air of peace around the other children, and they were talking with each other like old friends.
"That is Iris, my daughter." Caligo laughed at Arin's shocked expression. "Relax, child; I had adopted her. As far as she wishes, I am her father. She's known no other."
"Caligo, you know Brooklyn will not be happy to see you," Arin whispered for only Caligo's ears. He nodded slowly.
"I am well aware of that," he replied sadly. "But if the Fates are right, I must confront him...Arin, as hard it is for me to say this, I cannot aid with this war. I've done everything short of begging and pleading with the Grey Lords to allow me to take arms alongside my son, my clan, to amend for my betrayal to it over a millennium ago."
"You would have been a formidable ally," her eyes downcast, she picked up her daughter, who cooed and snuggled into her hold.
"Never make my mistake, child," he ordered. "Never pledge Balance."
"I have no intention to," she held Kathryn out to the ancient gargoyle. "Would you like to hold her?"
"I would be honoured," Caligo bowed formally at the waist, then took the small infant into his arms. She seemed to be content and drifted off to sleep once more.
"Kathryn," he smiled. "After the princess?"
"We spell it differently, but Brooklyn also thought it suited her...it was also the name of a friend of mine when I still lived in the States before I went to London. She..." Arin's smile faded as her eyes closed. "She was killed by a gang about six months before I left. She wanted out of the gang, the Black Knights, who didn't take too kindly to deserters." Sighing deeply, she brushed a knuckle against her cheek, swiping at tears. "She was a beautiful young girl, only a couple years older than me."
"Bitter memories die hard," Caligo nodded ruefully. "And I believe that's what damned my relationship with Brooklyn in the first place."
He passed the sleeping hatchling back to her mother. "Be assured, Arin, that though I cannot help with this war, I will do anything in my power to protect her when she is in need." His head shot up. "He's coming."
"Time to face the music," Arin quipped lightly as her mate stormed into the nursery, eyes blazing. Both the immortal gargoyle and the cursed human/fae realised Brooklyn had known Caligo had been here since his son returned to the castle, which was probably less than a minute ago.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Brooklyn demanded his father, his voice caught between tangible speech and snarls.
"Love, you're overreacting," Arin warned.
"Arin, please stay out of this," Brooklyn suggested.
"We need to talk in private," Caligo ordered.
"What's there to talk about?" the brick red male snapped back. "You're not welcome here!"
"I asked him to stay!" Arin stepped in between father and son, still holding Kathryn. Glaring at her mate, she added, "He wanted to talk civilly to you. The least you can do is honour it!"
Brooklyn literally stared down his mate, whose eyes burned with set determination.
"You win, Bright Sun," he growled, turning his head away.
"I suggest the library, then," Arin smiled brilliantly. "And take Kathryn with you." She handed the hatchling to her mate. Kathryn awoke once more, mewing loudly now that she was in the arms of her father. Brooklyn shook her head.
"She won't--"
"Children help soften blows just by being present." Caligo smirked a bit. "Interesting tactic, Macbeth's daughter. Iris!"
The mahogany girl glanced up at the grey gargoyle from the game of Aggravation with the other three.
"Stay here with the other children until I return. If anyone asks, play mute."
She laughed. "Je parle non anglais?"
He smiled brightly. "French, I believe, may be understood around here."
"Oh..." Iris played with one of her braids. "Nihongo de itte kudasai?"
"There we go!" Caligo laughed, following his scowling son out of the room, ruffling her hair lovingly on his way.
"What?" Alex raised an eyebrow.
"It's Japanese," Iris smiled.
Arin sighed, sitting on the couch nearest to Tom's crib. He still slept quietly, mewing in his sleep.
Once outside the nursery, Caligo darkened against the shadows, still present, but unless someone was looking for him specifically, he was pretty much invisible.
"Why did you come?" Brooklyn demanded, his voice low, as he pushed open the great oak doors of the library.
"I needed to talk to you, Brooklyn."
"About what?" the red gargoyle demanded, readjusting Kathryn's position in his arms. Arin was right. Kathryn's presence was making him feel much less vehement against his father.
"About this."
With that, Caligo unlatched the shoulderguard and scabbard from around his powerful chest and, hilt-first, passed the sword and its casing to his son.
"It is yours, now."
Brooklyn stared at his father, wide-eyed. For added measure, Caligo bowed his head slightly, awaiting his son to take the sword.
Slowly, Brooklyn, cradling Kathryn with one arm, he reached out and took hold of the scabbard, looping the strap of the shoulderguard around his wrist as he did.
Caligo released his grasp and bore deep into Brooklyn's eyes.
"Its name is Kurai-no-Daikatana, literally the Long Sword of Darkness. It was given to me millennia ago by the Twin Gods of Nippon for a service I did for their favour."
Brooklyn opened his mouth so say something, but no words came out. His eyes traveled down the embroidered red and black hilt, the floss used seemed to be gilded with gold. The sword itself seemed to have been forged and crafted for functional rather than decorative purposes, for the guard was a solid four-leaf-clover-shaped design and the pommel was blunt.
Words finally came to his throat, issuing forth a genuine "Thank you" from Brooklyn's mouth. "I don't know what else to say..."
"It was meant for you, Brooklyn. Imazagi told me my first born would use it against the forces of Chaos. This was long before I came to Castle Wyvern, before I thought it was possible for me to have children.
"I never wanted it to happen, the Vikings attacking Wyvern," Caligo sighed, sinking into an armchair. "I found a peace there that I had never knew before. I found acceptance there, not as a god or demon, but as an equal, a fellow gargoyle. I would have wished for anything to stay there, to give up my immortality and ... " The ancient gargoyle sighed, clenching his fist. "I loved your mother. I loved her more than anything else in the world and beyond. I would give my soul for her to be still alive..." a slow smile crept across Caligo's face. "...And, if she was saved from the attack, she would be here as well...she would have been very proud of you, Brooklyn."
It suddenly dawned on Brooklyn his father was no different from any other gargoyle. All this time he had regarded the immortal gargoyle as some sort of monster, an uncaring creature.
"Tell me about my mother, please," Brooklyn asked softly, civilly, settling into the armchair across from Caligo.
His smile grew warmer, as well as his storm grey eyes.
"Mei Deae...My Goddess..." he sighed, leaning back in the chair. "She was curious with the world. She never wanted to learn to read and write, but she wanted to know of the faraway lands. Rarely have I found anyone that I could bare my soul to and not flee in fear or hatred. Your mother never feared me."
"What I remember of her..." Brooklyn snorted a quick laugh. "Yeah, I figured out which one she was when I was old enough to understand...she was a dreamer...she always seemed to be somewhere else rather than at the castle, mentally...."
"That was Mei Deae," the elder nodded. "She was extraordinarily beautiful. As my ill luck would allow it, we were two entirely different creatures...."
"I don't remember much of you, however..." Brooklyn admitted. "Now I understand it better, but you always stuck to the shadows...I understood you were the Scholar, the Magistrar...we were told you died...what happened?"
"Truth, filius?" he bowed his head. "I panicked...I was responsible for the deaths of seven of the clansmen...you and your rookery brothers were very young...I lost favour with the Leader, Hudson...I banished myself...." He heaved a great sigh. "I returned to Wyvern twenty years later...about a week after the massacre..."
Brooklyn watched in fascination as Caligo produced a length of once-blue ribbon, almost faded to white and frayed at the ends, from his pouch. He also noticed tears forming in his father's eyes.
"I found you, stone at night, and your mother nearby, broken in a thousand pieces...I thought my only chance for a family was destroyed...the only ones I ever truly loved...."
Brooklyn found himself trembling slightly, holding Kathryn closer to him.
"I think I understand..." the red male whispered. "If I lost my Bright Sun, or my Little Sun...or both..."
"Guard them with your life, Brooklyn," Caligo suddenly stood. "They are the most precious things in your world. Everything comes in second to them. I would have taken yours or your mother's place if given the chance."
"You're leaving?" Brooklyn stood as well.
"I've done what I needed to do, and still had some time for talk...."
"You could stay here...help us with this war...you would be helpful to us...."
"Know this, Brooklyn," Caligo placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "Though I cannot directly help, I will do whatever I can to aid you and your young family."
"Then you really are going..."
"Ita est," he whispered ruefully. "I must...the rulers of my fate tell me to stay out of this...right now I am bending their words just visiting you."
"If it's Hudson and Goliath, I could talk to them, allow you to stay once more..."
"Funny, when you finally realise I mean you no harm, it had to be after ten years of vehemence?"
"It's about Goliath and Hudson, isn't it?"
"Partially, but not entirely," Caligo nodded. "They can never forgive me. Nor can I forgive Goliath."
"What happened?"
"A bitter memory. One I cannot talk about, even to you. Mei excusatium," he bowed his head. "I must truly leave, Brooklyn. Vale, filius."
The grey male turned on his heel and began to darken.
"Then farewell, Father," Brooklyn whispered softly.
Though Brooklyn could not see it, he did sense a surge of joy welling up from Caligo as the mysterious gargoyle disappeared.
Alex and Iris spent most of the time after the game talking about everything in general as the younger children returned to picking up the Barbies. The Grecian girl suddenly stood as the shadows nearby condensed into a darker form.
"Alex, I had a wonderful time with you, Renet, and Petey," she hugged him. "And I hate to run, but I think Father is ready to leave."
"Not quite yet, puella," the shadows chortled as they solidified back into the gargoyle form of Caligo. He turned his attention to Arin, who was nodding to sleep. "Arin?"
"Hmmm?" she struggled to open her eyes. "How did things go?"
"You were right, Kathryn helped ease the tension," he smiled, then, with a quick step forward, he gathered his son's mate into a hug that lifted her off the ground. Staring her in her green eyes, he added quietly, almost child-like, "He called me 'father'...."
"If he accepted what my father had done in the past, as well as me, why not you?" she asked rhetorically.
"Vale, Arin. Good luck." He released the slight female and took Iris's hand. Slowly, the two melted back into the shadows.
"I think I want to learn that," Alex whispered.
Commotion rose from the courtyard shortly after. Talon, Goliath, and Eddie, the leaders of the three clans, were staring down at the three dead clones piled in the middle of the stone yard, the green female with a complex computer board in one hand and a palm-puter in the other, the two linked with line jack.
"What's the frequency, Kenneth?" Clay asked the three.
"The amount of shit just doubled," Talon growled.
Eddie stood, whistled sharply, then held the board over her head. "Eveahyone's eyes up heah!" she shouted, the sudden thickness of her Downeast accent announcing trouble. "I just took this outta one of these bastahds!"
"Ed, tame the Yankonics!" Xanatos warned. "You sound like my old man."
"You sound like a flatlandah," she growled. "I just ran a diagnostic on the bugger..." she paused, taking a deep breath. "It's a smart chip, to put it mildly. Fifty gigs of information. Coyote came back after the MIA Steel Clan was solved."
"KIA'ed," Coyote corrected. "Destroyed, then these dudes took their transmitters and used them to get inside. There's still three more smart clones out there."
"We've got other problems!" Maggie raced out of the castle. "It's Burbank! He's...." she trailed off, then gulped. When her voice returned, she resumed. "He's left us...the accident didn't help his injury."
"When will he come back?" Hollywood whispered.
Mal sulked passed Maggie and shook his head sadly.
"Holl," he answered honestly, "he's not coming back. He's dead."
Hollywood slouched.
"Dead..." the large clone's eyes widened, filling with tears. "Are we all going to die?"
"Not if we can help it," Goliath growled.
No one took notice of the lone gargoyle leaning against the parapet, staring out into the black sky.
We all die eventually, Goliath, Brooklyn thought to himself. Some sooner than others.
The question is when.
***
Epilogue
In the days, weeks, months, and years to follow, I noticed Brooklyn acting very different since the meeting with his father. Any chance he could spare, he would glance hopefully to the shadows, in hopes of perhaps Caligo emerging from the darkness, help aid against Sevarius's clones and mutates. He was reluctant to carry the daikatana for about a month, afraid to tarnish or break it, I believe. I also think there was another reason, dealing with Goliath and Hudson thinking he might fall in his father's footsteps.
I remember the day well, when he ventured out at council, returning to wearing his traditional loincloth along with steel armour and Caligo's shoulderguard and sword.
I think Goliath was afraid to say anything.
In 2012, Brooklyn stopped believing in his father. His feelings turned sour when we flanked a search and rescue party led by Matt and Elisa.
Elisa did not make it back.
It wasn't then, per se...it was what happened six months later...that cold October night, early in the AM, when Brooklyn, myself, and Eddie tracked a mutate troop along the East River...we took care of them easily, routine.
Until Eddie called me over.
"Arin!" Her voice seemed to carry some sort of fearful surprise to it. "You'd better come see this!"
I glanced up to see where Brooklyn was--about a hundred yards away, finishing off a rather persistent mutate--and, with a nod, he joined the two of us to observe the Maine gargoyle's findings.
She had picked up a female mutate by the strap of her weapon scabbard and supported her neck.
All three of us recognised her, though the mutated genetics made it almost impossible to trace her original human heritage.
It had been Elisa Maza at one point.
And Eddie's concealed nine millimeter had picked her off.
"This isn't good," I whispered.
"No shit," the green female sucked in a breath.
"Then we don't mention anything to anyone about this," Brooklyn ordered, surprising both of us. "Goliath would have all of us grounded."
"Goliath thinks she's dead already," Eddie grumbled, impassive.
I could only shake my head.
"It would break his heart even more if we told him did this to her," Brooklyn retorted. "He's already going downhill."
"It won't be long till you're leader anyway, Brook," Eddie reminded.
He only shook his head.
"Not a word of this to anyone," he repeated. "I don't think Goliath would be too fond of finding out you were using a firearm on patrol, Ed."
"Is this blackmail?" She demanded, deadpan as she slipped the gun back into her "goodies" pouch at her side.
"If we tell Goliath about her, we tell him how she was shot down as well," he corrected.
We buried our old friend in Central Park, just before dawn. She now has an unmarked grave under a rhodendon bush in the Gardens. Only the three of us knew where it was.
It was better this way.
I forced myself to remember Elisa for the human she was, rather than the broken puppet Sevarius had created through her.
That night after our private funeral, my mate renounced his father once more.
I remembered his harsh words to the shadows, that if anyone else would have notices would have thought Brooklyn had gone mad.
I knew why he yelled to the darkness.
He asked his father for help, and Caligo refused.
The last words he spoke of his father were forever etched into my mind.
"My clan is my family," he growled, turning his back on the shadows. "You swore you would protect my family, and you failed when Elisa was taken. You were there; I could sense you. And you let her die. She was my family...."
I stood by the door, listening. Kathryn, now a small toddler, hugging my leg, afraid to venture to her father.
I didn't blame her.
Finally, as my mate's fit turned into sobs, I decided I had to interfere.
My daughter's hand in mine, we travelled together toward Brooklyn, in our private corner of the library. His knees to his chest, he stared up at me with his rich hazel eyes.
"I thought I was wrong about him," he whispered. "I was beginning to think he had good in him...and it just seems all he cares about is his precious bloodline!"
"We can't worry about this forever, Brooklyn," I warned. "We have more important things to worry about...we'll win this war with or without Caligo."
He nodded, standing, then gathered Kathryn and I into a tight hug.
"We will win the war," he whispered. "No matter the cost, we will win the war."
Something ominous in his voice worried me for a while.
Thoughout the war, Brooklyn still wielded Caligo's sword. I believe it reminded him of the one peaceful confrontation between him and his father, a time where for one night, found good within the mysterious gargoyle pledging Balance.
The fateful night of July 4, 2038, the night my mate died, the war ended. The funeral was to be simple. My father played "Amazing Grace" on his bagpipes. Little Luach slept peacefully in my arms. Kathryn, almost a young woman with ten more years to grow into adulthood, stood almost as tall as me, resting her head on my shoulder, sobbing.
And the sword? Caligo took it back, for safe keeping, he told me. One day, when it was needed again, one of the children would pick it up and follow in Brooklyn's footsteps.
Silently, I hoped not.
And yet, I would still be proud of them....
--Arin MacDuff, 20 Dec 2046
***
THUS ENDS THIS CHAPTER OF SCRIPTAE CALIGORUM Stay tuned for more fics...I'm just too damn tired to actually write the upcoming stuff... :P
--Black Blade "My Cosmic Song Goes On For Eternity"