Shadowplay (Part Six) A "Gargoyles" Fan Fiction Story by Dylan P. Blacquiere (pblacqui@cycor.ca) Part VI From Darkness To Light AUTHOR'S NOTE : With some exceptions, none of the characters used in the story are mine. "Gargoyles" characters belong to Walt Disney/Buena Vista Television. This is an unofficial story, not sanctioned in any way by Disney. Also, this story incorporates, and sets up later events, which will conflict with future episodes of "Gargoyles". In other words, it'll fly in the face of everything canon come September 7. But, that's life. Enjoy. HISTORIAN'S NOTE: This story takes place after "Hunter's Moon, Parts One to Three" and "Shadowplay, Parts One to Five". BEFORE YOU READ THIS FANFIC, READ PARTS ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR AND FIVE OF THE STORY, "THE COMING OF SHADOWS", "AND THEN THERE WERE SIX", "ONE RING TO RULE THEM ALL", "AND IN THE DARKNESS BIND THEM", AND "SHADOWLANDS". *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** ****************************** BROOKLYN: "Hi, beloved." "Shadowlands" BROOKLYN: (voice-over) "Previously, on Gargoyles..." ARIEL: "Adieu" "And Then There Were Six" LEXINGTON: "Carbonear might be the same as us." (Show Carbonear failing to be subverted, "And In The Darkness Bind Them") LEXINGTON: "She can't be subverted, either" "And In The Darkness Bind Them" CARBONEAR: "I'm coming along for the six of ye." "One Ring To Rule Them All" CARBONEAR: "It's like there's a bond between us...something spiritual. Like we was meant to be together." "And In The Darkness Bind Them" BROOKLYN: "You're my immortal beloved." "Shadowlands" BROOKLYN: "Take me instead." "Shadowlands" SILHOUETTE: "What are you doing?" (Show Brooklyn being subverted, "Shadowlands") THE FORBIDDING: "Effecting a transferral. You've outlived your usefulness, Silhouette." "Shadowlands" OPHELIA: "I dreamt he wasn't Brooklyn anymore." "Shadowlands" LEXINGTON: "NO!!" "Shadowlands" HAWTHORNE: "It's saying that if we win, I have to turn to stone forever." "And In The Darkness Bind Them" BROADWAY: "I've beat the prophecy." "Shadowlands" ARIEL: "The quest of the six gargoyles would be to travel in search of the six pieces, join them, and battle Silhouette. If she were defeated, she would not be a threat any longer. If she won, then the world would be hers." (Show Hawthorne with the completed Ring, "Shadowlands") "The Coming Of Shadows" *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** ****************************** Prologue Enter The Savior McGillicutty's Pub, Croydon, England November 3, 1996 (2 Days Ago) The bar was unusually quiet. It was to be expected, since the strange plague had now hit London full force. Croydon, as a suburb, wasn't quite as afflicted, but the scare of the strange "Richmond Syndrome" was enough to keep the customers away in droves. The proprieter, Colin Armstrong, sighed, and fiddled with the taps, pouring himself a mug of beer. As he watched, however, the door opened. Soon, a strange man walked in, dressed in armor of a sort. He had long brown hair, tied in braids, and on his breastplate was the emblem of a dragon. "Going to a costume dance?" Colin asked. The man smiled. "Yes, that's it. I'll have a glass of al...beer, please." Colin sighed, and drew one from the taps. "You might as well have it free. You're the first customer I've had tonight, so it's not worth my while to open up the bloody cash box." The man smiled, and took a drink. Colin watched him, and then retreated back into his office. Arthur Pendragon watched him leave, drinking his beer in silence. *************************************************************************** ********** Arthur walked out, and poked his head into the alleyway beside the pub. A shape moved, and soon, Griff, his knight, walked out of the shadows. "Refreshed?" Griff asked, a wry smile on his face. Arthur smiled. "Yes. I must admit, this time's liquid refreshment is much better than what was served back in my day." His smiled faltered. "Still, though, I haven't got a clue where to search for Merlin, next. And to top it off, there's this disease business." Griff nodded. Their search for Merlin was slowly being eclipsed by the rise of the Richmond virus, however. Griff was counting the days until Arthur, in his ideosyncratic way, would declare that they had to find some way to stop it. Arthur had guessed some time ago that the disease was magical in origin, citing his prolonged sleep on Avalon. "You cannot sleep for that long on a magical island without becoming accustomed to the presence of magic." he had explained. Griff sighed. "Well, we're running out of places in England to search for him, your Majesty. We could try Scotland, I suppose, but..." Arthur stood perfectly still. "Did you hear something?" he asked. Griff perked his ears. In the back of the alley, something was rooting through the garbage. He turned around, his eyes aglow. Griff slowly walked towards the bum, who had tipped over the can and was rummaging through the refuse. "Need any help?" Griff asked. The bum looked up, and snarled. In the harsh light of the overhead street lamps, Griff could make out no discernable iris or pupil in the man's eyes. "Yes, you can help me." the bum said. He squinted, and Griff suddenly felt a weight on his mind. Seconds later, after his eyes had blackened, he didn't care. Griff turned around, and regarded Arthur with a grin. "Is something wrong?" Arthur asked, concernedly. Griff shook his head. "No, actually, I'd go so far as to say things are more all right now than they've ever been." And then, he subverted the Once and Future King. *************************************************************************** ********** Sagittarius Occult Shop, London, England November 4, 1996 (Yesterday) Una took a sip of tea, biting her lip. Griff sat down next to her, watching as Arthur rummaged through the shop's stores. Una turned to Griff, her black eyes twinking in the candlelight. "Must he do that?" Griff rolled his eyes. "He's been going on about finding some bloody prophecy, and that he wants the reward he'll get if he finds it. I'm getting rather sick of hearing it." Una frowned. "Why is he convinced it's in here?" Griff shrugged. "Who's to know?" Griff and Arthur had arrived in London yesterday. Hours after his subversion, Arthur had asked Griff about the magic shop he was so fond of talking about. As in, might there be a page of prophecy there? Griff had replied that he didn't know, but Arthur had been hellbent on checking it out. So they had travelled to the shop, subverted Leo and Una, and began the hunt. Griff poured himself another cup of tea, and bit impassively into a scone. "Although, I'm starting to suspect it might have something to do with the prophecy about the Ringbearer. Then, he might actually be searching for something useful." Una sighed, and buttered a biscuit. "True." Just then, Leo appeared in a column of shadow, holding a sheaf of aged papers. He walked over to the desk, and plumped it down. "Here's some more stuff, if you'd like to look at it. Some of it dates back almost 1500 years." he told Arthur. The king looked over, and walked to the desk. He began stirring through the documents. Then, he cried out, grinning. "I've found it!" he crowed. He sent a mental note of that fact to Silhouette, and laughed in glee. Griff stood up, and walked over. "What's so special about it?" Arthur ahemmed, and began to read the page, amazingly preserved for its age. "The companions six have many challenges to face. Internal, external, their powers betray, Hindering their way t'wards to the goal they trace. The Protector's power must flare beyond control, Thrice, each time steadily worse. Finally, he shall cause the destruction of one he knows, And live with guilt's dark curse. But even past this, the battle must continue, Where the source of evil itself combats them. So should the companions prepare for hard decisions, And face the choices which haunt them. Then shall the Leader give in to the beckoning, Stolen from light by the evil darkness brings. His power shall increase tenfold, seen fit to rule The realm of darkness as the demon queen's king. Fret not, however, for he can be saved, By the seventh, who exists not to find the Ring, But rather to preserve the chosen course of light And the song of salvation to sing. For she is the Savior, the final companion, Needed to restore the day to endless night. Grant her, therefore, the power of salvation, To bring her friends home from darkness to light. She is to be found in the new found land, The site of the third collected piece of Ring. Without her aid, the rest cannot succeed, But with her help, the light will they bring. And should the light win, the dark must be banished, The Ringbearer must offer herself, alone. As a permanent bastion against darkness' return, Frozen forever in stone." Griff gave Arthur a blank stare. "You were so concerned about that?" Arthur bristled. "It has to do with the Ringbearer and the others. Of course it's important. Silhouette will give a very good reward for this." Griff rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let's take it to her." Arthur smiled. "That's the spirit!" The king and the knight turned into shadows, and wisped away. Leo and Una glanced at each other, and shrugged. "Pass me the butter, Una." Leo growled as he sat down, picking up a scone. *************************************************************************** ********** All the while, Ariel watched from the proverbial shadows. He was invisible, actually...careful to do it on the other side of town so as not to be tracked...but he was regarding the procedures with a horrified interest. Ringbearer dying, Protector killing, Leader subverting...Good God. But there was no time to focus on that now. He had a Savior to find. He had been searching for the prophecy for five days now. He had begun in Southampton, England, the former site of Aethelgard's cottage. That trail had proven fruitless. The cottage was gone, eroded by the passage of centuries. However, the land was owned by one Donald Struthers of Portsmouth, so Ariel had gone there in human guise. Mr. Struthers had assured him that any possessions on the land had been sold ages ago. So, that lead had panned out. But Ariel had allowed himself to use his powers, and they had led him to an odd little curio shop in Soho. He had gone, becoming invisible about a mile outside of the district. And then, he saw a Servant of Twilight find the missing page, and vanish with it, going to Avalon, where he didn't want to risk going. That was obviously the castle the first prophecy had meant, but there was no way he'd go there. It was too dangerous, now. He frowned, and started committing the words of prophecy to memory. Fortunately, he had a good head for such things, and soon he knew the prophecy as well as his own name. And, as an unexpected bonus, the spell he had cast to see through the initial prophecy had an effect on this last page as well. Ariel instinctively understood what was expected of him. The prophecy was open. Briefly, he considered the ramifications of what it said. The most important section right now was the one about the Leader. The gargoyles had resurfaced in the real world two days ago, meaning that they were probably well on their way to having the Ring completed. That meant the final battle was next...and that meant that the Leader would be subverted. That wasn't good. Ariel instinctively knew that if that were to happpen, something very important would fail to take place...which couldn't be tolerated at all. But, there apparently was a seventh gargoyle. Somewhere in a new found land, the mysterious Savior would be found. New found land, Ariel thought. Just what the hell does that mean? The only other clue was that she was in the same place as the third piece of the Ring, wherever the hell that was. Ariel sighed. The only way he would be able to find her would probably be to use his powers, which he was doing way too much lately. On the other hand, she had to be found, or else the prophecy was doomed to fail. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Ariel realized. Not an enviable position. He sighed again, and soared out of the open window into the foggy London air, with only ripples in Una's tea to mark his passing. As he soared, he became visible, allowing his spell to slip away. The city was quiet, with few people walking the "Richmond" infested streets, so only a few people saw him. He veered off, crossing the Thames River and heading for Hyde Park. He landed, and walked over to a fountain. Groaning, he watched as a steady blatter of rain began to fall. The eastern sky was beginning to lighten...dawn was fast approaching. "Ariel wishes the Savior to find/So grant him a way out of this bind/Show where the third piece fell into gargoylic hands/Show me the site of the new found land!" he intoned, pointing at the pond. The water flared, and suddenly an image appeared in its depths. It showed a seaside city, with a stone tower overlooking the sea. A sign was visible on the road to the tower, proclaiming that the city of St. John's, Newfoundland was organizing a major interfaith Remembrance Day service in the football field at Memorial University. Won't be having that now, Ariel laughed to himself. Ha ha. Then, he caught the name of the place, and groaned. New found land. Newfoundland. If that wasn't the most obvious thing he'd ever heard of, then... He frowned. No time to think of that. He had to go. Glad that the other Children couldn't find him when he teleported, he vanished. *************************************************************************** ********** 67 Beausejour Avenue, St. John's, Newfoundland Novermber 5, 1996 (16 Hours Ago) The phone rang. When the phone's owner didn't answer, it rang again. Then, just for some more fun, it rang some more. Groaning, Steven Loveless shook himself out of bed. "I'se COMING." he sighed, shuffling into the kitchen. He picked up the phone, and glanced at the clock. Eight o'clock a.m, Newfoundland Standard Time. "Hello?" he asked. "Loveless, bye!" someone yelled. Steven frowned. "Who'se this?" "Witless!" came the reply. Steven frowned. "Witless! Whitbourne, my son, when I gets my hands on ye for what you did to me car...wait a second. The sun's out. You should be stone." "The sun's not out where I'm to, Steven. Carb and I are in Atlanta. It's only half past six here." Steven took a moment to comprehend this development. "What in the name of God are you two doing in Atlanta? Where's that to, anyway?" "Georgia." Whitbourne groaned. "What in the name of God is ye doing in the States? Doesn't ye cause enough trouble here?" "We didn't have no choice in the matter. And it's a long story, and I'd rather not talk about it on the phone, cause the sun's after comin' up soon. I wants to get back to the gatehouse before dawn." "Gatehouse?" "Nevermind, Steve-O. Listen. We would have called sooner...we's been here almost two days now, but it took me this long to find a cell phone with batteries. The powers out here. Anyway, I wants you to tell June, and Marsha, and Robbie...everyone we frigging knows, tell them to stay away from the black-eyes, and to watch out for Bonnie and Woody." Steven raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong? You sounds pretty urgent." There came a sigh across the line. "Look. Just tell them. It's important." Steven sighed. "Watch out for the black-eyes. Witless...how in the name of God did you get to Atlanta?" "Le...nevermind. I told ye it's a long story. But tell everyone, Loveless. You're the only one I could...bzzzzz...through to. Tell everone on...bzzzzz...frigging Avalon Peninsula to stay away from the subverted. The black-eyes." Steven looked at the phone. On Whitbourne's end, the staticking crackle was interfereing with the conversation. Whitbourne's voice sounded tinny and distant, and Steven had to strain his ears to make out what the gargoyle was saying. "Witless, what's going on here? You's starting to scare me." "You be careful now. I has to go." "Witless..." "Bye, Loveless." Whitbourne sighed. There was a click, and the hum of an open line. "Whitbourne!" Steven frowned. He snarled, and hung up the phone. He stood at the phone for a minute. On instinct, he picked it up, and dialed the number for June Tibbo's house. There was no answer. Great, he thought. After Jason Doyle, she's the one who knows the most about the gargoyles. And since Jason's dead twelve years... He sighed. Whitbourne had mentioned Bonavista and Woodstock. Maybe, after he ran his business in Torbay today, he'd come back and check in at the church. If Bonavista and Woodstock were still there, he could ask them what was going on. Although he hadn't seen hide nor hair of the four gargoyles at all in the last two days. He sighed, and rinsed out a coffee pot. He set it down, and began drumming his fingers on the table, reaching for the keys to his rental car. The replacement for the one the goddamned gargoyles had smashed. What had gotten Whitbourne so urgent? He didn't know. And that scared Steven Loveless very deeply. *************************************************************************** ********** St. Joseph's Roman Catholic Church, St. John's, Newfoundland November 5, 1996 (30 Minutes Ago) The bell tower was the oddest place Ariel had ever seen. It looked very well lived in. Mess was strewn about the place. Broken beer bottles and playing cards lined the floor, and clothes littered the corners. There were several wall decorations, including the Newfoundland provincial flag, and a poster of a cigarette with a bar through it, (which proclaimed "Smoke Free!", an odd contrast to the clinging odor of cigarette smoke which permeated the air.) Yet, amidst all this clutter, there was one corner which seemed orderly. It had varying musical instruments on stands, including two guitars, a fiddle, an accordion, a tin whistle, and a broken bodrhan lying face down on the floor. And next to this was a small table, with a photograph on it. Ariel walked over and picked it up. It showed four gargoyles, in the middle of a party. One of them looked uncannily like the Leader...Brooklyn, but was blue and more modestly dressed. The others bore passing resemblance, but nothing more. Except for the girl. She was stunningly beautiful, certainly the Ringbearer's equal. And she had a sparkling smile, dressed to kill in a tight T-shirt which showed off her midriff. And then, blue jeans with a plaid sweater tied round. Ariel found himself captivated. That's the Savior, he thought. She can save me anytime. He shook himself out of it, and set the photo down. "This is definitely the place." he remarked. "But where's the Savior?" He had been in Newfoundland almost 24 hours, and had nothing to show for it other than a picture of the gargoyle he was looking for. He had tried looking in the stone tower from the vision, and had gone all about St. John's. Against his better judgement, he had cast a spell to reveal her location, much like the one he had cast in Clayoquot Sound. But it had only led him here, obviously where she roosted during the day. He sighed, and sat down in a chair. Brushing back his hair, he prepared to give up. It was obvious that the Savior was nowhere near where the prophecy said she should be. Then, suddenly, he heard a car pull up. It stopped outside the church, and someone stepped out. Ariel froze, and made himself invisible. A minute later, a man walked up, poking his head into the loft. "Bonnie?" he called. "Woody?" Ariel frowned. Did this guy know the gargoyles, or something? The man whistled, and began to walk away. Ariel groaned, and made himself visible. "Ahem." he called. Loveless turned around, and his eyes bugged out. "Who are you?" Ariel sighed. "My name is Ariel. And you might be able to help me." "How did ye get up here?" Loveless asked. "I have ways. Look. Where are the gargoyles? I need to talk to them." Loveless gulped. "If they isn't here, then I...I doesn't know." Ariel sighed. "It's really important. I can't even begin to tell you how much I have to find the female gargoyle who lives in St. John's, Newfoundland." Loveless relaxed a bit. "You needs to find Carbonear? Well...I heard a rumor she's in Atlanta." "Atlanta?" "Yes, bye. Now, you sees, I'm not sure on this, but one of them called me this morning to say he and Carb was in Atlanta. So I guess they's still there. Why does ye need them?" Ariel sighed. "It's very complicated. Atlanta, Georgia?" Loveless nodded. "The airport ticket booth can get you on standby, if you needs it..." "I have other ways, Mr..." "Loveless." the man said, adjusting his glasses. "Steven Loveless." "Mr. Loveless, I'm not going to strain you anymore tonight. I suggest you go home, have a cup of tea, watch a sports game on TV. Do something, but just stay home." Loveless gulped, making the connection. "You knows what's going on, here don't you. What is it with these black-eyes? Witless told me to watch out for them." "Witless was right. I suggest you forgets...FORGET...about this whole mess. Don't get yourself involved." Loveless nodded, beginnning to think that something incredibly big was going on. "Is this like a government conspiracy?" he asked. "Like the X-Files?" Ariel nodded. "Yes. That's it. Now go. Oh, and one more thing...thanks for your help." Loveless nodded, as if in a dream. He turned, and slowly walked down the stairs. Ariel sighed. Hopefully, he'd have the sense to stay home. Running around might earn him a one way ticket to subversion. He grinned. "So her name's Carbonear, huh?" he stated. He pushed an image of Atlanta into his mind, and teleported out of St. John's. *************************************************************************** ********** Piedmont Park Gatehouse, Atlanta, Georgia Carbonear sighed, and took a drag of her cigarette. Whitbourne gave her a sidelong glance. "I thought you was quitting." he stated succinctly. Carbonear shot him a dirty look. "The events of the past few days has driven me to take up the habit once more." she growled sarcastically. The two had left the open park to take up temporary residence in the gatehouse. It had been sixteen hours since Whitbourne had made contact with Steven Loveless, back in Newfoundland. All that night, Whitbourne had spent roaming around the street, looking for a working phone. Finally, he'd broken into a car and used the cellular phone, calling from there. The power was gone. Atlanta was cloaked in darkness. And Whitbourne and Carbonear were becoming suddenly afraid that Brooklyn and the others had failed. Whitbourne twisted his mouth, and picked up a deck of cards lying on the table. He set them down again, and shuffled them, starting a leisurely game of solitare. Carbonear dropped her cigarette, and crushed it beneath her foot. "Something's wrong with them." "What?" "I feels it. Something's wrong with them, and Brooklyn's in trouble." Whitbourne gave her a curious glance. "What is it with ye? All ye's been doin since the six of them left is mope about Brooklyn. Brooklyn this, Brooklyn that. So what, is ye like in love with him or something?" Carbonear glared at him. "Shut the Jesus up, Witless, before I kicks your arse back to St. John's." Whitbourne frowned, and placed a card down. "Sorry. I'm just tense, that's all." Carbonear relaxed. "Isn't we all, Witless." she commented. "Isn't we all." The blue gargoyle shrugged, and picked up a card. The six of hearts. "What I wouldn't give for a nice, cold beer right about now." he smiled. "Remember that? When everything was normal? June Tibbo would throw a party, and we'd go, and Bonnie would get boozed up and start playing his guitar?" "As I recalls, you was pretty boozed up yourself." Whitbourne laughed. "So was ye, me girl. Except you wouldn't play that friggin accordion..." "I don't play the accordion. That was Bonavista, too. I plays the fiddle, you plays the guitar, Bonnie plays the guitar AND the accordion, and Woodstock plays the tin whistle and the bodrhan. Of course, he broke that slamming it over your head." Carbonear recalled, grinning. "Yeah, I misses them old times too. When this is all over, the first thing I'se doing is coaxing Marsha to throw one of them parties again. And getting drunk out of me frigging mind." She turned. "What does you suppose happened to Bonnie and Woody? Are they still looking for us in St. John's?" Whitbourne shrugged. "Who's to know? I hopes they's all right, but if they's subverted, then...I don't know." *************************************************************************** ********** The three shadowy forms appeared outside the gatehouse, on the precise spot where Lexington had made his plan to save the others two nights before. Bonavista, grinning wickedly, looked inside the window. "They's in there, all right. I sees them." he exclaimed. He moved toward his belt, where a loaded revolver lay in wait. Fox regarded the Newfoundlander with a patient smile. "Just like Travis said she would." Woodstock looked at her. "Let's kill her, then. The quicker we gets this finished, the quicker we gets home." Fox grinned at him. "Patience, Woodstock." She unholstered her own gun. "Let them sweat it out a bit." *************************************************************************** ********** "To answer your earlier question," Carbonear sighed, "I do feel something for Brooklyn." Whitbourne shrugged. "You isn't that subtle about it." Carbonear smiled. "I knows he loves Hawthorne, but I can't help it. I feels so special when I'se around him, like there's a magical bond between us." "You likes his arse, too." Whitbourne remarked. Carbonear blushed, her mouth dropping into an "O" of surprise. "I caught ye looking a couple of times, Carb. Don't deny it, and don't get contrary." Whitbourne was laughing, now. Carbonear stammered. "I'm not that superficial, Whitbourne." "Not superficial enough to fess up, you means." Carbonear smiled. "Yes, he does have a nice butt, Witless. And if you wouldn't drink so much, you might have a good one, too." Whitbourne stopped laughing. "I'm shocked at ye, Carb. I thought you wasn't superficial." Carbonear raised an eyebrow, smirking. "So I lied. Sue me." And then, suddenly, there was a rustling sound. Three shadowy figures flowed into the room, becoming a redheaded woman with an eye tattoo... ...and Bonavista and Woodstock. Whitbourne and Carbonear blanched, and got up from their chairs. The three Servants of Twilight grinned. "Bonnie? Woody?" Carbonear muttered, her face dismayed. "Well, looky, looky who's here!" Bonavista crowed gleefully. "Brendan was quite upset when ye skipped out on him." Whitbourne frowned, recovering from the shock of seeing his two best friends subverted. "Frigg off, Bonnie. Go back to trying to kill the others. No, on second thought, go back home." Woodstock put a hand to his chest in a mock gesture of shock. "Why, Witless! What makes you think we wants ye?" Woodstock shoved him aside, and he landed heavily on the floor. Fox smirked, and grabbed Carbonear's chin. She tried to subvert her, but Carbonear's eyes flared red. "It's true, then. Hello, Savior." Fox greeted her. She took her gun, and pressed it against Carbonear's stomach. In that instant, the supressed instincts Carbonear had never had to use before came blasting through. With a rush of adrenaline that Brooklyn would have dismissed without notice, she snarled, and expertly kneed Fox in her joint, spinning the human away. The gun fired, the bullet embedding itself harmlessly in the floor. Carbonear smiled warily, and gave a swift blow to Fox's jaw. The subverted cried out, and fell to the floor, out cold. Bonavista growled, and pulled his own gun. Before he could fire, however, Whitbourne tripped him with his tail. Bonavista fell, and Whitbourne grabbed the gun. The blue gargoyle trained it at the green one's head. "I doesn't want to do this." Whitbourne stammered, afraid. "Then don't." Bonavista retorted. He snapped the gun away with his own tail. The firearm went flying through the window. Woodstock, meanwhile, grabbed Carbonear's wrist. Carbonear yelled, and flipped him over. He squawked, and landed back first on the concrete floor. Bonavista threw Whitbourne aside, and lunged at Carbonear. "You has to die, Carb. Ye's more a part of this than you'll ever realize, Savior." he exclaimed ominously. "Why is you calling me that?" she asked as she dodged his attack. Bonavista growled, and leapt at Carbonear. He pulled a knife from his belt, preparing to stab... And someone flew by, grabbing the gargoyle and knocking him into the wall. Carbonear blinked. The newcomer was an odd little man, dressed in gaudy clothes and with long, blonde hair. A mischevious grin was plastered on his face. "YOU!" Bonavista snarled. The stranger wagged a finger. "Back off, gargoyle. The Savior's with me." Bonavista and Woodstock growled. "They's no point fighting with ye, Ariel. We'll just kill you when you comes to the final battle." Woodstock exclaimed. With that, they vanished, taking Fox along with them. Ariel snorted. "Servants of Twilight. They talk the talk, but they just won't walk the walk." "Ariel?" Whitbourne asked, rememberng Brooklyn's explanation from two days ago. Ariel glanced at him. "My reputation precedes me, I see." Carbonear was staring at her hand, panting. "God, I'se winded." she exhaled. "I hasn't done anything like that before I came to Atlanta." Ariel regarded her with a patient grin. "Hello, Carbonear." Carbonear looked up. "How did you know my name?" "A little man with glasses told me your name in Newfoundland. He also told me where you were now...Carbonear and Witless." "WhitBOURNE." Whitbourne groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. "I'se going to kick the frigg out of Loveless when we gets home." Ariel dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "There's no time for that now. Carbonear, I'm here for you." "Me?" Carbonear asked, confused. Ariel nodded. "You can't be subverted, can you?" he asked, more a statement than a question. Carbonear shook her head. "That's because you're in the same situation that the other six are in. You're a member of the prophecy as well. Just as Brooklyn is the Leader, or Broadway is the Protector, you are the Savior. Because it falls to you to save Brooklyn during the final battle." "Save Brooklyn?" Carbonear gasped. "What's going to happen to him?" "According to the prophecy, he's apparently going to be subverted. But he's also going to have his power increased, and become powerful enough to rule the world. He'll become the male, gargoyle version of Silhouette. But your role in the prophecy, as the Savior, is to prevent this from happening, or at the very least, to bring him back once that happens." Carbonear nodded dully. "Wait a second. Is that the thing I feels between the two of us when I sees him?" Ariel raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps. Maybe that's just the magic between the two of you reacting to each other. When did you meet him?" Whitbourne nodded. "They met us when they came to Newfoundland. And when they travelled here, after getting the third piece of their Ring, Lexington accidentally brought us with them." Ariel frowned. "That's odd. But you say that there's a feeling between you?" Carbonear sighed, and nodded. "Why is that? You looks like you knows." Ariel shook his head. "Frankly, I have no idea. But, in any case, you have to go into the final battle, and save him. Because without him, they can't win. He has to be the one to finally defeat Silhouette, and if he's on her side, he can't do it, obviously. So even though they're the most important people in the entire world right now, they can't do what they have to without you. Carbonear, to save the world, you have to save his soul." Carbonear glanced helplessly at Whitbourne. Her friend was staring at her. Suddenly, he laughed. "To think that three days ago, all we ever did was get drunk as lords on Saturday night. And now, we's becoming like Brooklyn and his buddies. Being called on to save the world." Carbonear bit her lip. "Of course, it's who we is, really. Like in that book." "What book?" "The book we found in the library three years ago. Remember? How it said that gargoyles were born to protect?" Whitbourne thought for a second. "I remembers that! You took it right serious, and moped about it for days! Said we wasn't acting like true gargoyles, and living up to our heritage." Carbonear nodded. "Whitbourne, this is what the book meant. Suddenly, we's being thrust into what our kind was meant to do. This is our chance, Whitbourne. To become what we really is inside...to live up to that legacy." Ariel tapped his foot impatiently. Carbonear stared at the ground. "If Brooklyn's in trouble, then I'll go. For me, and for him. Seems to me that we's connected somehow anyway." Carbonear looked up at him. "I'll go." She turned to Whitbourne, who shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'm in this too." he sighed. "I has some things to make up for with them. And I doesn't want to see Carb going off to danger alone." "You know, I'se never heard you sound this noble before." Carbonear grinned. Whitbourne smiled. "Does ye think it suits me?" "Yeah. Yeah it does, Witless." Ariel stared him down. "This will be dangerous." he said. "And you don't have a role in the prophecy. You can be subverted, and you won't have any powers to protect you. Carbonear may end up having to save you." Whitbourne looked shocked. "Her? She never even saves me a drag of her smokes!" Carbonear laughed, and elbowed him in the stomach. Whitbourne growled good naturedly. Ariel smiled. "You two are awfully accepting about this." Carbonear shrugged. "If ye'd met us in Newfoundland, we probably wouldn't be. But we knows what's going on, and we knows the dangers. We wants to help, and who knows? Maybe we can all have another party when it's all over." She turned to Whitbourne. "As long as you doesn't get Brooklyn singing again. His only fault is his inability to carry a tune in a frigging bucket. Ophelia and I could hear him from way down on George Street." "He was singing?" Whitbourne asked, confused. Ariel chuckled. "You had a party with them?" "They was as drunk as the day is long, my son." Whitbourne smiled. He shuddered a bit, briefly recalling that it had all been a setup, but laughed all the same. "I would have paid to see that." Ariel grinned. His face became serious, and he turned to Carbonear. "Are you ready?" "Ready for what?" Ariel sighed. "You who wish your friends to aid/Ariel offers a gift, in trade/To go to face the endless night/To bring home the leader from darkness to light!" Ariel chanted. Suddenly, a green light glared from his eyes, and circled around Carbonear's head. She stiffened, and looked around. "I feels light headed." she muttered. Ariel grinned. "It'll pass. But now you have the power to break through the subversion. You can't automatically clear it away, but you have a a chance to reason through it." He paused, and looked around. "And then there were seven." *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** ****************************** Chapter One The Big Picture The Eyrie Building, New York City November 5, 1996 (Now) The Servants stepped away from Hawthorne, Broadway and Angela. Some were glancing nervously at Silhouette, who was unconscious on the floor. Some were staring at the fog, which stood there, motionless, smug. But most were staring at Brooklyn. Their new leader. Hawthorne was taking shallow breaths. "No...no, oh God..." Brooklyn cracked his knuckles. "Relax, Hawthorne. It's still me. I haven't been possessed by some evil spirit. Remember? I chose this. To save you. The least you show me would be a little gratitude." "Gratitude?" Broadway called. "Brooklyn, listen to yourself! Being subverted isn't a gift, it's a curse!" Brooklyn turned around. "Au contraire." he whistled, the satisfied smile never leaving his lips. "Subversion is a complex mix of things. We didn't understand, before, but now it's all so crystal clear." He gestured, and suddenly an image formed. It was Silhouette, but as they watched, it metamorphosed first into a human, wearing some sort of battle armor, and then into a gargoyle. And then, it became another copy of the fog, finally turning into Brooklyn. Brooklyn ahemmed, and the image melted away. "You see, this isn't the first time all this has happened. It's a cycle, Broadway. Except every time, the players change. The first time, six thousand years ago, a gargoyle was the vanguard of the Servants. Six humans were called, to try to stop him from subverting the world. They didn't have to. The stupid gargoyle ran away from the six of them the first time he saw them, and smashed into a cliff face. Broke his neck and died instantly. What a colossal flop that was." He turned to the fog. "Then, like now, the Forbidding controlled the dark half of things. It overtook the gargoyle's soul, but allowed him his own individuality. The Forbidding guided him along, right up to that fateful night when he ran into the cliff. It took three thousand years, but the Forbidding tried again." The fog ahemmed. "Like he said, three thousand years later, I began the second attempt, which was much more successful. In a country you know today as Wales, I overtook the soul of a young Welsh warrior named Tuath de Dannan. He began to subvert things, and by the time ten years had passed, most of Wales was under his and my control. But then, six Children of Oberon were called. They used their magic, and created a Ring of Binding." "That ring," Brooklyn took up the fray, "was used, after de Dannan was killed, to banish the Forbidding away for all eternity. It sat, and nursed its plans for two thousand years. But it couldn't break out alone. To open the Ring's binding, it needed the magic of one of the race which had forbade it. A Child of Oberon." "Silhouette." Angela mumbled. "Exactly!" the Forbidding called, becoming excited. "When Silhouette was banished a millenium ago, it was a perfect oppurtunity. So I instructed her. Readied her for her chance to overtake the role, prepared her for the chance to become my third...avatar, for lack of a better word. It took a longer time, because of the restrictions my previous banishment placed on my powers...but it did happen. With her own powers, she released herself. With mine, she subverted the world." Brooklyn nodded. "But everything was compressed into a much shorter time. It took Tuath de Dannan ten years to subvert Wales. With modern transportation, where a person can fly from New York around the world in a matter of hours, it took Silhouette mere days to have most of the world succumb. So it all began again. But this time, there was a new twist in things." Brooklyn turned to Hawthorne, and wrenched the Ring from her grasp. "This was a weapon for us...for YOU to rebanish the Forbidding. Fortunately, Silhouette's departure through the Ring caused it to break up into six fragments, which randomly reappeared throughout North America. A madman 900 years ago had predicted this, and had wrote it all down. So when it came time for the people to oppose Silhouette to take up the cause...six gargoyles, this time...everything they had to do was right in front of them, outlined in black and white." Brooklyn paused for emphasis, and spread his hands apart. Between them was an image of a chessboard, with familiar faces playing the parts of the chess pieces. On one side, Brooklyn and Hawthorne were the White King and Queen. Broadway and Lexington were the Knights, and Ophelia and Angela were the Bishops. Ariel and Carbonear filled out the pieces, assuming the form of the Rooks. And in front were Whitbourne, Bonavista, Woodstock, Goliath, Elisa, Hudson, Xanatos and Puck, standing as pawns. On the other, there was one, single solitary piece. A formless King, which apparently represented the fog. All the others were pawns, but the one directly in front of the King was Silhouette. "Think of all that's gone on as a convoluted chess game, where the rules are bent and the pieces have minds of their own." Brooklyn stated, pleased with his analogy. As they watched, the pieces began to move around. All of the white pieces moved over to one side, allowing a large hole near the end of that board. As Broadway, Angela and Hawthorne watched, the pawn that was Silhouette suddenly began moving forward, getting to the opposite end of the board. It suddenly changed into a black Queen. "Silhouette was the opening move. You guys were living in ignorance, and missed your turn. So black led off. And the first thing we did was move our pawn, right through, and it became a Queen." Brooklyn explained. "Then, the game began." As the gargoyles watched, the black pieces, under the direction of the King, began moving. And when some of the white pawns were captured, they weren't eliminated. Rather, they turned black. Once that had happened, the Ariel Rook moved to the other white pieces. Soon, they began advancing forward. But then, the Black Queen moved in behind the White King, and captured it. "Checkmate." The Forbidding stated. "But when she killed me, a trace of her magic remained inside of me. Because of who I was, and the fact that I couldn't be subverted, it couldn't take control. Ever since that night, on top of the castle, when I died, I've been a Servant of Twilight deep down inside." Brooklyn added. Angela looked at him. "So all this time, you've been subverted? I don't believe that. Brooklyn, think of what's happened since then! Meeting Hawthorne, Whitbourne, Carbonear..." "...were all very nice, and I'm glad I did. But they don't mean anything now. All that matters is that the final move has been made. When Hawthorne joined the Ring, then we were able to be subverted. And because of what happened, all I had to do was accept the situation, and poof! Here I am! The most powerful being in the world, now that Silhouette's out of the picture." Brooklyn grinned, and nudged Silhouette with his foot. She didn't stir. Hawthorne frowned. "Brooklyn, listen to me! This isn't you! If you know so much about the Forbidding's history, than you know it's using you! Just like it used that gargoyle, Tuath de Dannan, and Silhouette! You aren't the person with the power, you're a pawn! Just another game piece on that chessboard of yours!" Brooklyn hissed in anger. "Can a pawn do THIS, beloved?" he asked, the last word dripping with scorn. With a thought, the hole in the floor Silhouette had created minutes ago widened, the tiles disappearing towards the floor below. Then, suddenly, Broadway and Angela were picked up, and suspended over the abyss. The spikes realigned again, sharpening. Broadway's eyes widened in horror, but then the floor reappeared, and the two gargoyles were set down. Brooklyn stepped over towards them. "Do you think I'm a pawn, Broadway? Do you think that the Forbidding's using me? Ask it, Broadway. It's right there." He pointed towards the Forbidding, standing next to Hawthorne. Hawthorne looked at it nervously. The Forbidding sighed. "I'm not using him. Whenever I transferred the powers from Silhouette to him, it's because he's much more suitable than Silhouette. She was one of the most annoying people I have ever met, and every second I spent with her inside the realm I took my name after was a chore." Brooklyn grinned triumphantly. "See?" he nearly screamed. "I'm not the pawn! You are! Ariel used you because he was too afraid to do it himself. He was a coward!" Hawthorne broke away from the Forbidding, and ran towards him. She grabbed his shoulders, careful not to look in his eyes. "Can't you see? Listen to yourself! You're being twisted, and corrupted by this thing! Just like Goliath, like Bonavista, like everyone else! The Forbidding doesn't see you as someone special, it sees you as another toy! A plaything! You don't mean anything to it!" Brooklyn snarled. "SHUT UP!" he screamed. He fired a shadow blast towards her. She took it in the midsection, and was thrown backwards. Colliding with the wall, she let out a grunt of pain. Brooklyn was furious, now. He began moving forward. "Don't you see? I'm the most powerful Servant of Twilight in the world. I've been chosen to rule the world, not her! Do you give a plaything that kind of power?" Hawthorne looked up. "If the plaything is a puppet ruler, then yes. That's all you are, Brooklyn. A puppet. It never intended for you, or Silhouette, or Tuath de Dannan to rule the world." The full realization dawned on her. "Don't you get it?" she screamed, as much to Broadway, Angela and herself as to Brooklyn. "Silhouette never was the true enemy. It was the Forbidding all along! It was controlling her every move, letting her think she was in control! But it was there, guiding her along, making subtle suggestions. It..." And suddenly, a bolt of pain flared throughout her head. An intense agony... She pressed her hands to her head, and screamed. And a whispering voice began to drown out her thoughts. [HAWTHORNE, MY LOVE...] Hawthorne gasped. Brooklyn. Brooklyn was doing this to her. Brooklyn was trying to kill her, shred her sanity... Brooklyn smiled, his voice level and calm once more. "No. The Forbidding's not in control now. Now it's ME." Hawthorne screamed again. [HAWTHORNE, YOU'RE PLAYING WITH FORCES YOU DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND] Brooklyn's voice whispered in her mind. [THE FORBIDDING DOESN'T USE ME, I USE IT. IF ANYTHING, THE FORBIDDING IS MY PAWN, NOW. I CONTROL THE SUBVERSION, THE SERVANTS, EVERYTHING. I AM THE KING OF DARKNESS] Broadway bristled. He could feel a brief surge in his mind as his power began to flare... ...but then, Brooklyn turned around, and blasted a bolt of shadow at him. Broadway cried out, and fell. "Don't even think about that, Protector." Brooklyn frowned, temporarily releasing his hold on Hawthorne's mind. "I haven't come this far to let you stop me with your little magic tricks." Something about what he said didn't click in Angela's mind. Scowling, she cleared her throat. "Brooklyn, you've only been subverted for five minutes. You haven't come far at all." Brooklyn paused, and raised an eyebrow. "What?" "Think, Brooklyn. How could you have come this far, unless what you are now is just an extension of the Forbidding? It's controlling your every move, your every thought! Hawthorne was right. You aren't in charge. You only think you are." Brooklyn's face changed from an expression of anger to one of confusion. He glanced around, and stared at the Forbidding. The fog never moved, never wavered. "She's lying." was all it said. Brooklyn spun around, furious. "You're lying!" he shrieked. Hawthorne's eyes widened. It is controlling him, she thought. It's commanding him, and he doesn't even realize it. "Brooklyn, think back! Did you think that thought, or did the Forbidding? When you blasted me, did you want to do it, or did the Forbidding? Ask yourself that question! Every move you made, everything you said, did, or thought, was it really you that did it, or did the Forbidding make you?" Brooklyn became dismayed once more. He wrung his hands in frustration. "Stop trying to confuse me!" he screamed, blasting wildly. One blast hit the walls above Broadway and Angela, and the rubble rained down. "All of you, stop it! I'm the one in command, not it! I control it!" Brooklyn roared. "And who thought that? The Forbidd...ungh!" Hawthorne began, but Brooklyn spun around and blasted her with such intensity that she went flying back into the wall. Brooklyn's face was twisted in an insane rage, but then it softened, becoming cold and calculating. "I must say, I'm a bit disappointed." Brooklyn sighed. "I expected you to be more accepting, to realize that I chose this. I don't want to kill you, Hawthorne. But I will." He grinned. "Of course, if you'll let me enlighten you, then there won't be any need for that." "Enlighten?" Broadway spat. "Don't you mean corrupt? Twist? Destroy?" Brooklyn turned to face him. "Why do you have to be so small-minded? Why can't you see past the eyes, into what I really am? I'm no different than you, Broadway. It's still me inside. It's still the Brooklyn that you grew up with, laughed with, fought with, talked with, and lived with! It's still me! The only differences are that my eyes are a darker color and I happen to control something you couldn't possibly understand yet! I'm not corrupted, twisted, or destroyed. I'm enlightened. Hawthorne will be too. And so will you, Angela, and Lex, and Ophelia, and Carbonear..." "Carbonear?" Angela asked. "The Savior in the prophecy. She's the seventh one...granted the power to bring me back from subversion. But when she comes, she won't have a chance." Brooklyn laughed. "Because I don't want to come back." He turned around, and melted into shadow, winding his way towards Hawthorne. The shadow trailed around her face, touching her cheek. Hawthorne recolied. "Don't be like that, beloved." Brooklyn's voice seemed to echo throughout the room. "I just want to invite you in. I still love you. Don't think I'm incapable of love just because I'm subverted. Elisa loved Goliath, still, and gave him the greatest gift she could...the oppurtunity to join him. I'm offering you the same thing." Hawthorne looked towards the wisp of darkness. "I'd rather decline." she stated simply. "You don't have a choice in the matter, Hawthorne." Brooklyn stated. As he said that, he reformed into his gargoyle shape. "Well, you do, but the other option isn't a good one. Either you join me, or you die, like Broadway and Angela over there will." Broadway growled, and his eyes flared. Brooklyn's expression softened, to become one of pain and hope. "Please, Hawthorne? I still love you. I always will. Join up with me, and rule the world at my side! I can give you anything, now! The world will be our oyster, Hawth. Anything you dream of, I can make come true!" As he said that, tendrils of shadow wisped out from his eyes. Almost too late, Hawthorne noticed them. She cried out, and slammed her foot into Brooklyn's stomach. Brooklyn went sailing across the room, gasping and landing on his back. The Servants all raised their hands, ready to blast Hawthorne. Broadway burst away from the Servants surrounding them, and ran in front of her. His eyes were glowing. "Back off." he intoned, deeply. Angela, meanwhile, took advantage of the distraction. She charged as well, heading straight for Xanatos. The billionaire still held one of MacBeth's electron pistols. He raised it, preparing to fire, but Angela tore it from his hand. She turned the weapon on the Forbidding, and fired. As the beam hit the fog, there was a huge scream that seemed to echo throughout the room. The Forbidding seemed to explode, tendrils of shadow flowing freely throughout the room. Brooklyn, who was just getting up from the floor, suddenly twisted in agony. He clutched his stomach, and roared in fright and pain. All of the Servants did the same, crying out in huge shrieks of agony. Startled, Angela dropped the gun. It shattered on the stone floor. Broadway and Hawthorne's eyes widened. But they were startled only for a moment. Regaining her compusure, Hawthorne ran over to Brooklyn, and took the Ring from his limp grasp. With his eyes closed, he looked perfectly normal. "They're all linked to the Forbidding." Broadway muttered. "When you shot it, it was like it hit them." "Did I kill it?" Angela gasped. "What happened to the Forbidding?" As she watched, tiny wisps of shadow began to flow back into the room. They began to consolidate, growing rapidly into the shape of the Forbidding. On the floor, Brooklyn and the other Servants began to stir. Broadway grabbed Angela's hand. They ran for the door. "C'mon, Hawthorne!" Broadway called. "What are you doing?" she asked, confusedly. "We can't leave!" Broadway glanced nervously at the center of the room, where the Forbidding continued to grow. "Brooklyn said something about Carbonear being able to save him. We have to go get Lex, and go back to Atlanta to get her." "Back to Atlanta?" Angela muttered. Hawthorne nodded, realizing. "He's right. We have to. It's the only way we can bring him back." "If we beat the Forbidding, then..." "Look," Hawthorne snapped, "we can't beat the Forbidding. You just blasted it with a laser pistol, and it's coming back. It's powerful enough to control Silhouette and Brooklyn without them even realizing it. This thing is the most powerful thing in the world, right now, and I'd feel a lot better trying to stop it if Brooklyn was here. Right now, Brooklyn is the Forbidding. Maybe if we beat him, we beat it." Angela sighed. The Forbidding was almost whole, now. "Fine." she agreed. "It sounds like a better plan than having the Servants pick us off one by one." The three gargoyles turned, and dashed out of the room. Hawthorne turned, and got one last, fleeting glance of the man who loved her, lying unconscious on the floor. It's not him, she thought. That thing's not really Brooklyn. It's just a monster that looks like him. Suddenly, she began to wonder if she would ever see Brooklyn...the real Brooklyn...ever again. With a heartbroken sigh, she headed for the stairs. *************************************************************************** ********** Seconds later, the Forbidding was whole once more. It reformed into its vaguely human shape, and groaned. The Truthfinder had hurt it badly...blasting it with a fully charged electron pistol. Every single Servant of Twilight in the world had felt it...those closest to it, like the dozens in the office, had come out of it much worse. Had Silhouette still been in charge of things, it probably would have killed her. She'd been the closest to it, so closely intertwined to it that they had almost been one. But the Forbidding loathed the Children of Oberon. It had been they who had banished him in the first place. None of those who had done the act were alive now...they had been extremely old, and had simply caused themselves to stop existing, as all Children of Oberon did when the final time came. Still, it hated the Children. The only reason it had even approached Silhouette at all was that she was the only one who had ever been inside the prison too. She was the only possible means to escape. And once she had done so, the Forbidding had used her, much like it had used Tuath de Dannan, the gargoyle six thousand years ago... ...and as it was using Brooklyn now. Brooklyn and Silhouette were more alike than they realized. Both had lost something before they were taken over...Silhouette her freedom, Brooklyn his love. Well, Brooklyn hadn't lost it, per se...was only in danger of having the Ringbearer killed...but the effects were the same. Both had given in to him. And, like both Tuath de Dannen and that incredibly stupid gargoyle, both had believed they were in charge. The Ringbearer had hit the nail on the head when she called Brooklyn a puppet ruler. He only believed himself to be the King of Darkness. Really, it was the Forbidding. But Brooklyn would serve the purpose well if he went on believing that he ruled the world. It was a simple thing. All the Forbidding had to do was suggest, coax and persuade. Brooklyn, like Silhouette, would think that he held the power, that he used the Forbidding. And that was exactly the way the Forbidding wanted it. Brooklyn, however, was much more suited to "lead" the subverted. He wasn't a Child of Oberon, which was the biggest thing he had going for him, but he was also shrewd, a contrast to the naivete that Silhouette had exhibited before he had shown her the way. Yes, Brooklyn would be much better. The object of his thoughts had not been linked enough to it for long enough a time to be killed by the Truthfinder's blast. He was seriously hurt, however. But he would recover quickly. The Forbidding watched as he came around. Groaning, he sat up. "Where is she?" he growled. "Where's the Truthfinder?" The Forbidding sighed. "I don't know. She, the Ringbearer and the Protector must have slipped away will we were...incapacitated." Brooklyn scowled. "I'll kill her. As soon as I find her, she's dead." The Forbidding smiled, and looked at Brooklyn. The puppet ruler of the subverted. "Why, of course." it smirked. *************************************************************************** ********** Brooklyn stared at the Servants of Twilight, who were slowly waking up on the floor. Only Silhouette remained unconscious. Frowning, he began to plan a way to kill Angela. She had hurt him severely. Brooklyn understood that he had come to the threshold of death. Had he been subverted for much longer, he would have died. And all because of the Truthfinder. That bitch. Brooklyn looked to the Forbidding, his only true friend. The aide-de-camp. He laughed. To think that they all thought it was controlling me! They don't understand, they couldn't possibly... Is it? Is it true? What if they're right? What if it is controlling me? Brooklyn frowned. No, that wasn't possible. The Forbidding had chosen him to rule the world, to be a tangible version of itself. None of them understood. None of them ever could, unless they were subverted themselves. They would never understand what it felt like to be in absolute control. How good it felt. Maybe, before he coronated Hawthorne, subverted Broadway, Lexington, Ophelia, Carbonear and Ariel, and killed Angela, he would remind them that he was in complete control. Perhaps another little demonstration would be in order. Brooklyn smirked. What fun that would be. The Forbidding smiled. "What do you plan to do now?" Brooklyn frowned. That was a good question. Suddenly, he remembered that Lexington and Ophelia were downstairs. The others had probably gone to get them. "We go downstairs. I have a sneaking suspicion that that's where we'll find them." Brooklyn stated. He looked to the Forbidding. "You come with me." The Forbidding smiled. "But of course." it repeated. Brooklyn smiled. It followed orders. Of course he controlled it. With a widening smirk, he vanished. *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** ****************************** Chapter Two Whispers Like Thunder In the darkness, Ophelia dreamed... She was back on Avalon. One minute, she was lying down, cradled in Lexington's arms, in a hallway of a medieval castle sitting on top of a huge building. The next, she was back home, on Avalon. Ophelia frowned. What was going on? It seemed so real...too real to be a dream, unlike the last one. That one had been a nightmare, with Brooklyn's face filling her mind, with darkened, black eyes. In the distance, she heard Lexington screaming. He kept repeating "No", over and over again, for some reason. But finally, he was silent. Ophelia looked around in confusion. Lexington was nowhere to be seen. Ophelia shrugged, and walked forward, stepping onto the dais which held Oberon and Titania's thrones. The fey were gone...nowhere in sight. Grinning, Ophelia sat in Titania's throne. But suddenly, Brooklyn was in the King's chair, looking impassively out at the Audience Hall. A crown was on his head...but not one of gold, but one of shadows. And out in the hall was everyone she'd ever known in her life. Angela, Gabriel, Lexington, Hawthorne, the Guardian, Thompson Riley, Tybalt, Silhouette...every single face she'd ever seen was standing in the hall, staring at Brooklyn. All of them had black eyes. "What..." Ophelia stated aloud. "What's going on?" "You're dreaming. But even dreams can have meaning." Ophelia spun around. Standing there was Princess Katherine. Her eyes were black as well, but she made no move to attack or alarm her. "Princess?" she asked. "In a way. Illusionist, listen to me. YOU CAN'T DIE." the princess stressed, looking concerned. Ophelia gasped. Die? "I'm dying?" she asked. Katherine nodded. "You were shot. It's serious. In fact, you've been clinically dead for at least a minute. You aren't dead yet, but you're on the brink." Ophelia suddenly felt numb all over. "Oh, God." "But it's not over. To finally defeat Silhouette and the Forbidding which controls her, all seven of you have to be alive and unsubverted." "All seven of us? Princess, there's but six." Katherine shook her head. "There are seven. Carbonear of Newfoundland is coming into the role she must play...that of the Savior. But if you die, here and now, in Lexington's arms in the Eyrie Building, then all that has happened will be for nothing, and everyone will be as you see them here." Ophelia stared at the Princess, realizing that it wasn't really the Princess at all. "What are you?" she asked. The Princess shrugged. "A specter...just a personification of a part of your mind, Illusionist. But also a bit of the prophecy. When Ariel granted the powers to you, he also infused you with a wee bit of the prophecy's magic, as well. I'm here to save you...so in a way you're saving yourself...but I'm also with a message." "Message?" Katherine nodded. "Illusionist, if you go back...if you decide to live, then you must ensure that the Savior and the Truthfinder work together. I never got a chance to place that in the prophecy. Alone, neither can succeed. Together, they can save the Leader." Katherine pointed at the shadow-crowned Brooklyn. "He is the center of a tangled web of lies. Only with the Truthfinder's help can the Savior break through those lies and expose him to the truth. And only you can make sure that they know that." Ophelia sighed. "All you're doing is confusing me. So okay...this is all a figment of my imagination?" Katherine nodded, urgently. "Yes, yes! Illusionist, you're dying. Even as we speak, your life ebbs away! You have to bring yourself back. It won't be easy, but you must. It will take all of your will." Ophelia thought for a second. "All right. How do I leave here?" "You have to concentrate, to bring yourself back from the edge of death. And, despite the damage which has been done to your body, damage which nothing can heal save sunrise or other magic, you must give this information to the Savior and the Truthfinder. And beware the Protector. He may think that he's escaped his fate, but he hasn't. Tell him to remember the silhouette in the mirror." Ophelia paled. "I'll...I'll try." She began to concentrate, deeper and harder than she'd ever done before. Suddenly, she felt a compressing sensation. She looked around, and gasped as the castle of Avalon vanished from around her. It faded to blackness, and was gone. Ophelia suddenly felt a dull, throbbing pain in her stomach. She hadn't felt any pain whatsoever in her 'dream', which meant that she was now most probably fully awake and aware. Instinctively, she knew she was going to live. She had almost died. Not quite, but almost. She opened her eyes. Lexington was cradling her, rocking her gently. His eyes were closed, and he was weeping. He was endlessly repeating "I'm sorry", almost like a mantra. "Sorry for what?" Ophelia asked, her voice little more than a whisper. *************************************************************************** ********** She's dead, he thought as soon as she had stopped breathing. Oh my God, she's dead. "No." Lexington whispered. He reached for her neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none. "NO!" he screamed. His voice broke, and he began to cry. He grabbed her face, and began to caress her cheek. "Please, Ophelia. Please don't die." A sudden flashback, to several nights ago...a week ago today. Brooklyn had just been killed, trying to bluff his way out of a threat, trying to save his clan. Then, Brooklyn's death had been purposeful. He'd been trying to rescue his friends. Ophelia's death was pointless. She had been shot down, simply because she was there. And Lexington had been there to try to help her, but had proved useless in the end. She had died, despite his promise to protect her, to keep her safe. It's my fault. he thought. God help me, it's my fault. I killed her. ME. He held her closer, as if he could bring her back to life again simply with his presence. But it was no use...she was cold, so cold. He wept, then, more sorrowful than for anything else in his brief life. Here was a girl he'd loved, and who, because of him, would never again awake to the moonlight of Avalon, to a quiet night, or to a friend who loved her. "I'm sorry." he whispered, beginning to rock her. "Please forgive me. I failed you, when I should have protected you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." Suddenly, her eyes opened. Lexington at first thought it was a trick of the light, but then realized it was no trick. She had really opened her eyes. "Sorry for what?" she asked, weakly. She tried to focus her eyes on him, but couldn't quite do it. Lexington cried out for joy. He held her closer, not knowing what to say at all. "You're alive..." he whispered finally, after what seemed like a long time. "Oh, God, Ophelia, I thought I'd lost you." Ophelia smiled, and coughed. Her voice was rasping, but she was speaking coherently, at least. "It was strange. I had a dream that...that I was on Avalon. The Princess came, and told me that I couldn't die because I had a message to give to the rest of you." Lexington looked at her quizzically. "She brought you back to life?" Ophelia shook her head. "No. I don't think I was quite dead. That's what she said, anyway. But she gave me a message, and it's really important." "What was it?" Ophelia frowned, puzzled. "I...I can't remember." Lexington didn't say anything...only held her close. Rocking her still, he looked at the wound. It was still ugly...her abdomen was badly damaged, he could tell. But Lexington instinctively knew, right then and there, that she would live. If she could pull through that, she could pull through anything. She would make it. "I thought I'd lost you." Lexington said again, a tear falling. "I thought I'd never see you again." Ophelia smiled, weakly. *************************************************************************** ********** The trio came down the stairs, panting. They kept nervously glancing back, expecting to see the shadows come screaming down the stairwell at them, blocking them off and overwhelming them. But none came. They arrived on the floor below, sidestepping Bronx, who was still lying down, unconscious on the floor. Broadway looked around, and saw Lexington and Ophelia. Lexington was cradling her gently, rocking slowly back and forth. "Lexington!" he yelled. The Traveller looked up, and smiled. Then, it died. "Where's Brooklyn?" he asked. Hawthorne sighed bitterly. "He was subverted, Lex. Like the prophecy said he would be. Silhouette's out of the picture. She doesn't lead the Servants anymore. Brooklyn does." Angela stepped forward. "But he told us how to bring him back. Lexington, we need to go to Atlanta to get Carbonear. She's in the prophecy, too. That's why she couldn't be subverted." "Carbonear?" Lexington raised an eyebrow. "Her power is that she can bring Brooklyn back from what he's become." Hawthorne stated. "She's the Savior." Ophelia gasped. "I remember now!" "Remember what?" Ophelia shuddered. "The message. I remember that message." Lexington looked to the others. "She stopped breathing a few minutes ago, but she came back. It was wierd, but she said that she had a message, but that she couldn't remember." "I do now." Ophelia croaked. "The Truthfinder and the Savior have to work together to bring back the Leader. That was it." Angela frowned. "I have to help Carbonear?" Lexington raised an eyebrow. "We have to go and get her, don't we." Broadway and Hawthorne nodded. Lexington sighed. "Well, we shouldn't bring Ophelia. She might not make it through if we move her around too much." "I can stay here with her..." Hawthorne began, but suddenly, there was an all too familiar rustling sound. Brooklyn, the Forbidding, and many other Servants of Twilight...many, many more than had been up in Xanatos' office...were there. Most of the ones in the front were familiar faces...Demona, MacBeth, Xanatos, Hudson, Maria Chavez, Matt Bluestone, Talon, Bonavista, Fox, Woodstock...essentially every person they knew. Only Goliath, Elisa, Bronx and Arthur Pendragon were absent, simply because they were still unconscious on the floor. But the most horrifying sight in Lexington and Ophelia's eyes was that of Brooklyn, standing in the forefront. Lexington thought back to Ophelia's last words before she had gone unconscious. I dreamt that Brooklyn wasn't one of us anymore. She's got that right, Lexington thought dispassionately. Brooklyn leered sadistically. "Well, the gang's all here." he greeted. He stepped forward, his black eyes glinting. "Don't worry, beloved. Nobody's going anywhere just yet." *************************************************************************** ********** The Colson Building, Manhattan Fang landed, in a crumpled heap, on the building closest to the Eyrie. His wings screamed in agony, and then retreated to a dull, numbing pain. As he stood up, his right leg flared, and he collapsed to his knees. He had almost forgotten that it was broken. Fang looked at the nearest facade of the skyscraper. A large portion of the windows were broken, possibly from the massive outrush of air that had accompanied the fogs motion throughout the Upper East Side. Papers occasionally flew serenely out of the gaping holes of glass, joining the large amounts of trash which had been buffeted throughout the streets. He rolled over, and sighed. Now that he was here, what could he do? Not much with a broken leg. But Brooklyn and the others probably needed help, if they were here. And if this was where the fog had gone, then this was where they probably would be. "I'll just rest a few minutes before I go over." Fang said aloud. He looked upwards, towards Castle Wyvern, sitting dramatically on the top of the skyscraper. How odd it seemed in contrast to the rest of the darkened skyline. There was a sudden rush of air. Fang heard a musical chime, almost like bells. He spun around, and saw a bright, multicolored light. As he watched, it solididfied into two gargoyles, and a short, gaudily dressed little man with pointed ears. "What..." he stammered, confused. One gargoyle, who looked exactly like Brooklyn except for the color, the hair and the clothes, cleared his throat. "Uh, where's we to?" Fang raised an eyebrow. What an odd accent... "Pardon?" The other gargoyle, a gorgeous deep blue female, looked appraisingly at Fang, and then at the city around her. "Is this New York City, bye?" she asked him. Fang put a hand to his head. "Yes..." "I always pictured it'd be a bit...you know, well lit." the male sniffed, looking around. "Hush, you." the female hissed. She walked forward towards Fang, offering a hand to him to help him up. Fang shook his head. "My leg's broken." Fang sighed glumly. "Who are you?" The little man ahemmed. "My name is Ariel. These are Carbonear and Whitbourne, and we're here for the battle. Have we missed it?" "Battle?" Fang asked confusedly. Then, it dawned on him. He was talking about Brooklyn and the others facing off against those...things. "I..I don't know. Something was going on on Long Island, but then I kind of got lost. Then, the fog all started flowing here, to this building. Maybe it's going on here." Fang gave a grandiose wave, and pointed at the Eyrie Building. Ariel's eyes widened, as did Carbonear and Whitbourne's. "Is that the Eyrie Building?" Carbonear asked. "That's like the tallest building in the world!" "It's also where the first battle between Silhouette and the Leader, the Protector, the Truthfinder and the Traveller took place. If the last stand is here, then it's because of the irony. Typical Silhouette." Ariel muttered. Then, he turned to Fang. "What do you mean, the fog flowed here?" "Well, there was a black fog, but it all disappeared about half an hour ago. It came right to this building, and vanished." Carbonear looked at Ariel. "What's that mean?" "It means that something incredibly wierd is going on." Ariel sighed. "And it also means that the battle may have already started." Whitbourne's eyes trailed up to the top of the building. "Up there." Ariel nodded dejectedly. He turned to Fang. "Thank you for your help. You should probably go somewhere and stay out of sight." Fang nodded. Grimly, he began to crawl towards the edge of the building. Suddenly, he stopped. "No." he stated. "What?" Ariel asked. "I said no. I think I should try to help." Fang explained. Ariel groaned, and looked at Whitbourne. "I've already got one extra charge..." Whitbourne frowned. "Perhaps he might be able to help us out, Are." "Don't call me that." Ariel snapped. "Didn't you say your leg was broken?" Fang nodded. Ariel threw up his hands. "How do you expect to help us out with a broken leg?" Ariel snapped. Fang growled. "I don't know! I'll think of something! It's just...I tried to help back on Long Island, and I failed. Maybe this time I can actually be of some use." He was surprised at the new feeling of selflessness, but he had to admit, it suited him. Ariel looked heavenward. "Well, you're noble. Not very bright, but noble." He gestured. "I might as well fix your leg. There's no point hiding, since we're about to go and face Silhouette anyway." "Fix my leg?" Fang asked. Ariel stared at him intently "Creature who would aid our quest/Ariel grants thee this request/Heal thy limb, which battle did rend/And help this blackest evil to mend!" he stated. Fang gasped in pain as the fractured bones in his leg suddenly shifted and set. They knitted together, healing perfectly. Fang stood up, shifting his weight, and finally standing on only his right leg. There was no pain at all. His leg was totally healed. "How did you do that?" Fang asked. Ariel shrugged. "It's a gift." he replied. Whitbourne walked over to him. "So, what's your name, my son?" "Uh, Fang. You're Whitbourne, right?" Fang asked, still marvelling at the healing job of his leg. He didn't even look at Whitbourne, but instead stared disbelievingly at Ariel. "Call him Witless, bye. Everyone else do." Carbonear smiled. Fang looked at him. "Witless?" Whitbourne shot Carbonear a glance. "You shag off, Carb." Suddenly, there was a blast of sound. The four travellers looked up, and watched in amazement and horror as what sounded like an explosion rocked the upper floors of the Eyrie Building. There was a shattering of glass, and a storm of window fragments suddenly cascaded upon the street below. But instead of flames exploding out into the chilly November air, a cloud of shadows seemed to appear from nowhere, flowing into the Eyrie Building. It was almost an implosion, with a cloud of shadowy magic. The shadows were exactly like the shadow forms of the Servants of Twilight. For a brief instant, the sky darknened as the massive dark cloud vanished. Down below, the cloud seemed to settle around the base of the skyscraper. Then, it was gone. "What the Jesus was that?" Whitbourne asked, shielding his eyes in case any more glass fell. Ariel scowled. "I think that's who we're looking for." Carbonear gulped. "I'se suddenly having second thoughts about this whole business." Fang never wavered his gaze from the top of the Eyrie. There was no further sounds, and the building resumed its former complacency. "You and me both." he sighed. Ariel gestured, and the four companions suddenly vanished in a soundless burst of light. *************************************************************************** ********** The Eyrie Building Brooklyn moved forward, shooting an appraising glance at Lexington and Ophelia. "Like the new look?" he asked Lexington, pointing to his eyes. "Believe me, it's just the beginning." Lexington recolied, trying to keep Ophelia away from Brooklyn. Brooklyn chuckled, and closed his eyes. "Here we go again." he laughed. "This time, everybody's here. But not everyone's leaving." The gargoyles were all suddenly tossed out of the way...all except Angela. As the others were flung backwards by the force of Brooklyn's will, Angela was wrapped in a tendril of darkness and drawn forward. Brooklyn smiled, wryly, and caressed her cheek. "You hurt us all very badly, Truthfinder. If I'd been subverted any earlier than I was, you would have killed me. But you didn't. By all rights, I should kill you." Angela struggled. Broadway groggily looked up, and his eyes flared. "But I'm not stupid, Angela." Brooklyn laughed. "I'm not going to let your precious Broadway get the chance to use his little tricks on me." Brooklyn suddenly gestured. Broadway cried out in pain, and his hands went to his eyes. Hawthorne gasped. "Broadway!" Broadway's hands dropped down. His eyes were milky white, filled with cataracts. He was blind. "I can't see!" he screamed. "I can't see!" Lexington turned incredulously at Brooklyn. "You're a monster!" he cried. Brooklyn scowled. He blasted a bolt of shadow at Lexington, who was tossed like a rag doll back towards the window. Broadway began to grope around blindly, struggling to find someone. Hawthorne grabbed him, and tried to calm him down. "Brooklyn! Please, listen to us! You have to come back to us!" she screamed desparately. Brooklyn rolled his eyes. "Oh, will you give it up? All your pleading means nothing to me. I'm not coming back. Why should I give up the best thing that's ever happened to me in my life?" He waved his hands. "Maybe a few more people will help me convince you. Like, say, a couple of hundred Servants of Twilight, huh?" There was a huge crashing noise. Suddenly, the windows imploded, sending glass shards spraying throughout the room. A massive black cloud began to flow into the room, becoming scores of subverted people. The cloud stopped advancing inward, but the room was now filled with Servants of Twilight. Lexington gasped in horror. Hawthorne screamed. Brooklyn laughed. "If you want to ask them to come back, you're more than welcome to try. But I doubt they'll listen. You see..." Just then, there was a flash of light. As it faded away, four figures phased into existance. Carbonear stared at Brooklyn. "Oh, my God..." she whispered hoarsely. Fang glanced around. "Man, I missed out on a lot." "YOU!!!!" Brooklyn screeched, pointing at Ariel. "Ariel!" Angela gasped. "Carbonear? Whitbourne?" Hawthorne asked. "Fang?" Lexington puzzled, confusedly. "Hello, again, Leader." Ariel smiled. He pointed to Carbonear. "Meet the ace up my sleeve." *************************************************************************** ********** She groggily came around, slowly rising from the floor. Silhouette stumbled, and glanced around. The room was abandoned. Trashed, but abandoned. The glass windows were shattered, and chips of stone littered the floor. At first, she thought she had been unconscious for a day, that the gargoyles had turned to stone and had been smashed. That made her feel better, but on closer inspection, she realized that wasn't the case. The stone was gouged from the walls and ceiling, not the remains of gargoyles. Gargoyles. Silhouette frowned, and remembered the Leader. The Leader had taken her place. She no longer controlled the Servants. Brooklyn did. What had the Forbidding said? It was effecting a transferral? A transferral of it's blessing from her to Brooklyn. "That bastard!" Silhouette hissed. "He's taken away what should be mine!" For some inconceivable reason, and in contradiction of what was in the prophecy, the Forbidding had decided to oust her, and replace her with that half-wit gargoyle. But she wasn't angry at the Forbidding. She was furious with Brooklyn. But she would be damned if she would let that...that usurper get away with it. Grinning, Silhouette blasted the mahogany desk, which exploded into nothing more than a pile of wooden splinters. The computer sitting upended on the top of the desk blew up, with an audible pop as the wires sparked and fused. "You're dead, Brooklyn." Silhouette growled, blasting the wall again. "You are so dead." She vanished in a flash of shadow. *************************************************************************** ********** Brooklyn stared in shock at Carbonear. Carbonear, in turn, regarded him with an unhappy expression. "What happened to ye?" she asked sadly, a tear rolling down. "Good God, what happened to ye?" The Forbidding flowed forward. "Hello, Savior. Ariel, it's nice to finally meet you." Ariel frowned. "Who the hell are you?" The Forbidding pointed at Brooklyn. "I'm helping him out." "Where's Silhouette?' Ariel asked. Brooklyn regained his composure. "She's been usurped." he stated. "I've taken her place." Whitbourne gaped stupidly at him. "Brooklyn, my son, does ye have any idea what ye's after saying?" "Believe me, I know quite well." Brooklyn frowned. "This is a pleasant surprise, Ariel. All you've done is made it easier for me to subvert the Savior." "You can't subvert me." Carbonear frowned, suddenly not so sure. Brooklyn smirked. "Whatever makes you happy. I thought the same thing, but look how wrong I was." He tensed, preparing to spread the sickness, but Fang blasted him with an electric bolt. He went flying backwards. The front rank of Servants retaliated, buffeting Fang with approximately twenty bolts of shadowfire. Fang screamed and went back painfully into the wall. He turned to Broadway. "What happened to hi...oh, my Lord." Broadway turned to the sound of his voice, his cataract filled eyes expressing pain and loss. Ariel turned around, and saw the blinded Broadway. "If it's not one thing...". He frowned, preparing to restore Broadway's sight. Brooklyn leapt up, and blasted him. Ariel took it squarely in the back, propelled backwards into the wall. Brooklyn stepped up, infuriated. With one gesture, Carbonear and Whitbourne were wrapped in shadows as well, and were drawn to stand next to Angela. Whitbourne began to hyperventilate, his eyes widening in fright. Carbonear continued to stare at the subverted Leader. Brooklyn noticed, and smiled. "What's the matter, Carb? Don't like me like this? Don't worry. Soon you won't know any better." Carbonear shook her head. "You'se wrong, bye." she stated desparately. Hawthorne stood up, glancing concernedly at Broadway, and walked forward. She regarded Brooklyn cynically. "The women who loved me." Brooklyn remarked dryly. "Loved you as you were. Not as the puppet you are now." Hawthorne frowned. "You can subvert us if you want. Then, we won't think you're being controlled anymore. But that's all you'll gain. You'll live forever thinking you're in control, but never really controlling." Brooklyn became infuriated once more. He raised a hand, and blasted a massive shadow bolt at the floor, creating a huge hole, open to the arboretum below. "Oh, Jesus, oh Jesus, oh Jesus." Whitbourne moaned, closing his eyes. He suddenly wished that he'd stayed in Atlanta after all. "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU!" Brooklyn roared. He blasted more shadows, carving gaping wounds in the walls and ceilings. "I AM IN CONTROL!!!" "If that's true, bye, then why's ye trying so hard to convince yourself?" Carbonear asked, taking up the thread. She had guessed what was going on...she could only hope she was right. Brooklyn stopped for a second, and seemed to consider it. "You're trying to convince THEM." The Forbidding whispered softly. "I'm trying to convince YOU." Brooklyn retorted, shooting Carbonear a childish look, akin to screaming 'Told ya so! Told ya so! Fooled ya!' Carbonear glanced at the Forbidding. "What is that thing?" she asked. "We aren't entirely sure." Hawthorne admitted. Brooklyn growled. "It's all over." he stated ominously, preparing to subvert them. "Wait a second." somebody stated, as they billowed up from the floor in a column of shadow. The voice echoed throughout the room, and everyone was silent as they realized who it was. Everyone turned to stare at the newcomer. Ariel and the gargoyles (except for Broadway, who blindly turned his head) all gasped. Brooklyn crossed his arms. "Welcome back." he stated. "What do you want?" "My position back, you son of a bitch." Silhouette stated. "I want to rule the Servants again, and I want you dead again. And I'm going to make it happen." Then all hell broke loose. *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** ****************************** Chapter Three The Monsters Within Brooklyn howled, and blasted Silhouette with all of his might. The Servants all shot her as well, driving her back into a wall. The wall smashed with the force before Silhouette could be crushed, but she still came out of it very badly. Brooklyn laughed gleefully, and directed all of his attention at Silhouette. The spell which bound Angela, Carbonear and Whitbourne dissipated, and the three were free again. The unsubverted all regrouped, and tried to shield themselves from the blasts. Angela gasped in horror when she saw Broadway. "My love..." she whispered as she saw Broadway's filmed over eyes. Broadway shuddered. "I can't see." he stated again. "Oh, God, Angela, I'm blind..." Fang's eyes widened, and he looked at Ariel. "If you could fix my leg, then couldn't you fix his eyes?" Ariel frowned. "I suppose. And I could probably mend the damage to the Illusionist as well. But it all depends on how they were injured." "I don't know how I was blinded." Broadway whimpered. "One minute, I saw Brooklyn wave at me, and the next, there was only blackness." "Magic." Ariel frowned. He began to swear under his breath. "Ophelia was shot." Hawthorne stated. Ariel sighed, and glanced back to the battle taking place between Silhouette and Brooklyn. It was quite obvious that the gargoyle was winning, if only because of the Servants who were aiding him. A stray blast hit the wall above them, and chips of stone rained down on the unsubverted. Ariel sighed. "If I keep using my powers like this, I'm going to keel over." he stated grimly. "I can only take so much in a night." He closed his eyes. "Protector, Illusionist, casualities of war/Thy wounds are grave, but fret no more/For the healing to begin, the bodies must be strong/So heal these two, let their lives move on!" Ariel chanted. Broadway and Ophelia's eyes began to flare green. As the others watched, the cataracts in Broadway's eyes shrunk, and vanished. Ophelia's stomach wound began to close over, healing with intense magic. Within seconds, the two were fully healed. Broadway raised his hands, staring at his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could see. He looked at Angela, who gasped, and hugged him crushingly. Ophelia, meanwhile, hesitantly stood up. Her stomach was healed, and all visible signs of her gunshot wound were gone. Lexington's face cracked in an enormous grin, and he tentatively took her hand. Ophelia smiled, and rubbed his head impishly. "Thank you." Ophelia and Broadway said together. Ariel sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Listen to me. I found the other piece of the prophecy. It's fairly obvious that what was supposed to happen to the Leader already has, but it said things about the Protector and the Ringbearer as well..." "We know." Hawthorne scowled, glancing nervously at the Servants. "Why aren't they attacking us?" Lexington wondered, catching Hawthorne's stare. "They're just standing there watching Brooklyn and Silhouette duke it out!" "Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth. We need to regroup, and figure out a way so Angela and Carbonear can bring Brooklyn back." Ophelia muttered, inspecting her stomach. "Angela and me?" Carbonear asked. She had been staring sadly at Brooklyn, wondering how she was supposed to save him. Angela nodded. "Ophelia told us that she'd gotten a message...that I have to help you to bring Brooklyn back." "How did you know?" Ariel asked, staring at her. "Who told you that Carbonear was supposed to help?" Lexington tilted his head towards Brooklyn, who was laughing crazily as Silhouette was caught between two blasts of shadows. Silhouette cried out, and fell to the ground. Whitbourne laughed nervously. "Uh, byes, not that I means to hurry ye's up or nothin, but doesn't it strike anyone else that we should be getting somewhere safer?" Carbonear looked at him. "There's nowhere that's safe. Besides, now's the time to end this." She turned to Angela. "So, you has to help me save him, right?" Angela nodded. "It makes sense. To save him, we have to get it through to him that he's being lied to. For you to bring him back, we have to get through the lies. Who better to do that than the Truthfinder?" Carbonear nodded. "But the second we gets out there, he'll just cut us down. We needs the rest of ye to hold the Servants off." Fang's mouth dropped open. "Are you stupid? There's at least three hundred of those things! How do you expect nine of us to beat them?' "But we do have Ariel, Ophelia and Broadway with us. Ariel has his magic, and Ophelia can cast illusions. And Broadway..." Lexington began, but his face fell. He turned, to stare at Broadway. The Protector nodded. "I beat the prophecy, Lex. I think it's safe." Angela frowned, and moved a little closer to him. "Broadway...are you sure?" She remembered back to his melancholia after the mirror maze in Seattle. If he used his power, and something did go wrong, it might destroy him. Broadway frowned, and clasped her hand. "It'll be all right, my love. I promise." Angela sighed, accepting it. "Be careful." They all stood up. Carbonear and Angela moved a little closer together, and whispered a silent prayer. Then the nine heroes calmly walked out into the battle zone. *************************************************************************** ********** Brooklyn laughed merrily as Silhouette was blasted about. She screamed in agony, and tried to shoot back. But Hudson and Maggie, two of the massive amount of Servants in the room, held her back, keeping her magic at bay. Brooklyn held up his hands, triumphantly. The firing stopped, and Silhouette was driven to her knees. The Forbidding stared impassively, watching as the proceedings unfolded. Brooklyn cleared his throat. "So you came back. That was the dumbest possible move you could have made, Silhouette." Silhouette stared defiantly up at her replacement. "You arrogant little bastard." she hissed. "Ho, ho!" Brooklyn laughed. "ME arrogant? Tell me, did you ever hear yourself during this whole affair? Every time the two of us met, I was tempted to kill you just because you were so obnoxious." He leaned closer. "Face it, Sil, it's over. You lose. I rule your Servants of Twilight now, and you're nothing." Silhouette spat in his face. Brooklyn growled dangerously, and he blasted her again. She writhed in agony, and looked up at him. Suddenly, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. "You think you're brilliant, don't you." she mumbled. "Compared to what? YOU?" Brooklyn retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The Forbidding chose me to lead the Servants, Silhouette. It's sent you back to what you were before...a useless, two-bit pawn." Silhouette glared at him. "Oh, you're dead." She wrenched her way up from the floor. But instead of blasting Brooklyn, she directed her shadow bolt over his shoulder... ...and it struck Broadway, who had been creeping up behind him. Brooklyn spun around, and snarled. "You again? Why can't you just stay out of this?" He began to blast wildly at the nine unsubverted, who were forced to dive for cover. Brooklyn laughed as they scrambled behind a crag of fallen stone. He blasted it apart, and chunks of brickwork went sailing through the air. The gargoyles ran for dear life. "Servants!" Brooklyn hollered. "Finish them off!" The Servants of Twilight began to menacingly advance on the travellers. Brooklyn spun around to face Silhouette. "This isn't over." Silhouette growled, and blasted him. Brooklyn took the bolt in the head, and metamorphosed into shadow. Silhouette did the same. The pair then went swirling away, vanishing outside the shattered windows. The Forbidding sighed, and followed. *************************************************************************** ********** The force of the blasts was incredible. Huge beams of shadow went screaming through the air above them, and the mere force of the air moving with them was nearly enough to keel Carbonear over. But that was beside the point. Somehow, she and Angela had to get to Brooklyn, and bring him back from the darkness he'd been confined to. So it was with horror that she watched Silhouette, Brooklyn and the Forbidding vanish. "No!" she howled. Angela looked over. "Merde." she swore, repeating one of Brooklyn's favorite expletives. "Where did they go to?" Carbonear shouted, trying to raise her voice amid the thunderous blasts. Ariel shook his head. "I have no idea. But I think it's safe to say that they didn't go far. Brooklyn probably wants to kill her, and then come right back here." "That's no help if they have to get to him to bring him back!" Ophelia shouted. Broadway thought for a second, narrowly dodging a stray blast. His shoulder still smarted from the blast Silhouette had directed at him. "Maybe they went upstairs. Up to the castle." "Are you sure?" Lexington yelled, struggling to be heard. "Even if they are there, it's a big chance." Angela nodded. "We have to go up. If we save Brooklyn, we might have a better chance to win." She turned to Carbonear. "Ready?" Carbonear nodded. "I'm going too." Hawthorne announced. Everyone stared at her incredulously. "YOU?" Ariel slapped his forehead. Hawthorne's eyes flared. 'I want to see him safe, all right? I love him, damnit, and I want to be there for him if...WHEN we bring him back. Is that a problem, Ariel?" Ariel backed down. "N...no..." Carbonear cleared her throat. "Uh, well, Ophelia could cast an illusion to get us upstairs unseen. It would last us long enough for us to get to the stairs, at least." Ophelia nodded. She concentrated, and Carbonear, Angela and Hawthorne faded from sight. "Let's go." Hawthorne spoke, unseen. The trio got up, and sprinted for the stairwell. Broadway watched them go. "Okay...so what do we do?" Whitbourne peeked out, and squinted. "I thinks...I thinks we should divert those buddies out there, so Carb, Angela and Hawthorne can get upstairs before the black-eyes figures out they's gone." "That's a good suggestion...but it's fifty-to-one odds." Lexington grimaced. A huge boom rang overhead as a massive blast struck the wall, almost as if to lend credence to Lexington's warning. A huge crater impacted, and chips of stone rained downwards. "If we could do something like that back at them, then we could hurt them. But I don't think my little blasts will help." Fang sighed. Ariel brightened. "That's it!" "What's it?" Broadway asked. Ariel stood up, still behind the fallen crags of stone. "Blasts of shadow, power and death/Which would drain this troupe of life and breath/Do thou now as I interject/And to thy original senders reflect!" he intoned. A blast of shadow suddenly struck a seemingly invisible barrier and was reflected backwards at the Servants. There were muffled screams of pain as it struck them. Another blast came flying at them, but was sent back as well. "You're a genius!" Lexington crowed. Ophelia peered around. "Look! They're stopping!" Sure enough, the blitz slowed, and stopped. About thirty Servants of Twilight were unconscious on the floor. The rest were warily glancing at the gargoyles, and at the spot where the blasts had bounced back. Broadway stood up, and away from the barrier. His eyes flared, and the Servants recoiled in fear. "Remember what happens if you use that power, lad." Hudson called. Broadway frowned, not entirely surprised to see him among the ranks of the Servants of Twilight. The others all got up as well, eyes alight. Ariel levitated off of the floor, for dramatic effect. "No." Broadway retorted. "I beat the prophecy, Hudson. I almost killed Elisa, but I didn't. I'm in the clear. And we're going to see this thing through." Their expressions stoic, the six unsubverted stepped forward into a straight line. Hudson's brow creased, and his expression became pensive. 'If that's the way you want it." Several Servants fired another blast, which again reflected and struck them. They cried out, and fell. "You'll have to do better than that." Lexington remarked dryly. "All right, then, we will." came a voice. Tybalt stepped forward from the back ranks of the Servants. Quite suddenly, he and about twenty others changed into shadows. They flowed forward, and began to surround them. Ophelia growled, and plunged her arm into the cloud. There was a cry of pain, and Talon materialized on the floor, clutching his stomach in pain. The other shadows stopped, and surrounded them. "Wait a second." Tybalt frowned. "There's some of you missing. Where are they?" Whitbourne gulped. "Why, whatever does ye mean, my son?" he asked innocently, trying to hide his obvious fear. "Don't play dumb with us, gargoyle." MacBeth, another of the subverted who had come forward, growled. "The Ringbearer, the Truthfinder and the Savior aren't here. Where are they?" Nobody answered. MacBeth spun around. "Three of them aren't here! Find them!" About one hundred and fifty Servants vanished, determined to search the castle for them. The remaining subverted began advancing darkly on the captives. Maggie strode up mockingly to Fang. "Tried to be a hero, did you?" she chided. She placed her palm flat against his temple. Fang snarled, and punched her away. She went flying into a group of oncoming Servants. The surrounding ones snarled, but then Broadway and Lexington let loose furious roars. They began driving into their opponents, lashing out wildly. The others took the cue, and began to fight as well. Lexington leapt up, and dove into a group of Servants, slashing wildly. He raked a familiar looking Servant of Twilight in the face, drawing blood. The Servant cried out, and fell to the floor. Lexington put his hands on his hips, satisfied, but then someone crashed into him, and he fell to the floor. Fang ran towards Maggie and Claw, who were coming after him again. He caught them in a flying tackle, and drove them down. "Get off of me!" Claw snarled. Fang's eyes widened in surprise to hear him talk. That distraction was exactly what Maggie needed. She jumped up, and dispatched Fang with a flying kick to the stomach. Fang cried out, and went flying back. Ariel rose up, into the air, and began to fire blasts of energy at the Servants. His spell still affected the shadow blasts, so every time a Servant fired at him, it bounced back. Ariel laughed merrily, and began acrobatics, firing behind his back and between his legs. Whitbourne wasn't having quite as grand of a time. He was busily trying to dodge the blows of Demona, who was snarling wildly. "Why's ye attacking me? I doesn't even know ye!" he protested. Demona laughed. "Your eyes are all the provokation I need." She swung at him, and Whitbourne brought his elbow down on her neck. She screeched, and punched him in the gut. Whitbourne doubled over. But as he did, he saw a familiar face in the crowd. Getting up from the floor, from where Lexington had driven him, was Brendan LaPorte. He was nursing a bloody nose, and staring in disgust at Lexington. Whitbourne didn't see that. He only saw the Servant of Newfoundland, who had forced him and Woodstock to betray the others. And he was quite suddenly enraged. Whitbourne's eyes flared, and he drove forward, bowling Demona over. He strode over, and grabbed Brendan by the collar. "Who..." Brendan asked confusedly. Whitbourne's mouth dropped. "Ye doesn't remember me? Think, my son. I'm the one you used in your sick twisted game." Brendan's eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, you! You're one of those mental defective Newfoundland gargoyles I enlisted! I remember you know!" Whitbourne snarled. All of the earlier fear he'd been feeling was suddenly clouded over in his rage for this man, for this one man who had set him against his friends and stolen Bonavista and Woodstock from the good. With a satisflying crunch, he punched Brendan in the eye. "You listen to me, my son." Whitbourne hissed, furious. "I don't know where ye lives to, but its obvious they didn't teach ye one thing." "And what's that?' "You NEVER...NEVER...messes with a Newfoundlander, my son. You gots that?" Whitbourne growled. He didn't even notice as Brendan furrowed his brow, beginning the subversion attempt. But it didn't matter. Whitbourne hauled back to Newfoundland, and hit him in the bridge of the nose. Brendan cried out, and went limp in Whitbourne's grasp. The gargoyle sighed, and let him fall. "For Clan Newfie." Whitbourne whispered, smiling happily. Ophelia, meanwhile, was in a defensive stance, crouching as Wolf tried to kill her. The werewolf grinned, and stepped forward. Ophelia growled, and tripped him with her tail. He fell to the ground, stunned. But somebody else...Maria Chavez, Ophelia realized...suddenly materialized in front of her. Maria drove back, and hit Ophelia in the stomach. Ophelia cried out as her organs flared in pain. She was driven to her knees. Obviously, her gunshot wound hadn't been quite fully healed. Broadway was busily dodging the advances of Tybalt. The red gargoyle had drawn a dagger, and was snarling wildly as he drove it forward, hoping to impale him. "So what do you think, Protector?" Tybalt panted. "Should I kill you, or just put your eyes out so you can at least hear your friends die?" "I'll take Plan C." Broadway growled, knocking the dagger from his hand. "Kicking the jalapena out of you." Broadway rammed him in the chest with his shoulder, and watched as he went spinning to the floor. All in all, they were doing well. *************************************************************************** ********** Woodstock, meanwhile, watched as Tybalt's dagger was thrown from his hand. He saw it spiral down and clatter on the floor. He raced forward, and snatched it up before anyone else had a chance to. Brandishing his prize, the Newfoundlander entered the battle zone, looking for someone to kill. He found Lexington. The small, olive-green gargoyle was getting up, beating on a hapless Servant. Woodstock smiled, and plunged the weapon into Lexington's shoulder. Lexington screamed, and whirled around. The blood began to pour from the open wound, oozing down his arm. Woodstock wrenched the dagger free, and hit the small one in the head with the butt of the hilt. Apparently, he'd done it harder than he'd realized, because Lexington's eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell to the floor. Woostock turned, and smiled at the Servant, who grinned and sauntered off. Woodstock raised the dagger, and prepared to plunge it into the gargoyle's defenseless chest. VERY unfortuantely for him, Broadway was but ten feet away. *************************************************************************** ********** Broadway rubbed his hands, and was just about to head off to help Ophelia when he heard Lexington scream. He whirled around, but a Servant jumped him. Broadway twisted him off. He looked, and saw Lexington on the floor. Woodstock was about to kill him. Something snapped in his mind. Unlike before, however, Broadway welcomed it, knowing that he had escaped his doom. His mind clouded with righteous fire, and the energy exploded from his eyes in a massive blast. It danced about, striking each and every Servant of Twilight in the room. They screamed, and fell to the floor. Those closest were blown backwards, smacking themselves on pices of stone and knocking them out. In seconds, Broadway, Whitbourne, Ariel and Fang were the only ones standing in the room. Broadway's attenetion focused on the half-conscious Woodstock, who was weakly crawling away, his dagger forgotten in the aftermath of the blast. Taking great strides, Broadway walked up to Woodstock and picked him up. The Newfoundlander whimpered in fright. "Don't hurt me..." he gasped. Broadway laughed. "That's the least of your worries, Woody." he said, patronizingly. *************************************************************************** ********** Ophelia got up, clutching her stomach. The white light had died down. All of the Servants were down, either unconscious or madly scrambling to get away from Broadway. The Protector was laughing, holding up Woodstock. Frowning, Ophelia began to remember that something in her dream had something to do with Broadway. Beware the Protector. He may think that he's escaped his fate, but he hasn't. Ophelia's eyes widened in horror as she realized what was happening. Broadway hadn't beaten the prophecy. Meaning he was still going to kill somebody. Woodstock. "Oh, no." she whispered. "BROADWAY!!!!" Broadway turned around, his eyes flaring. "What is it?" he asked testily. She got up, and slowly walked forward. "Broadway, come back down! You could kill him!" "Kill him?" Whitbourne asked, suddenly snapping up from his stares at the fallen Servants. His eyes stopped flaring, and he began to approach the others, his face filled with cautious fear. Ariel and Fang began to advance as well. "I beat the prophecy, Ophelia." Broadway growled. "I can't kill him." "What about the silhouette in the mirror?" Ophelia stated. She had no idea what that meant, but hoped it had a cryptic meaning for Broadway. Apparently, it didn't, because Broadway turned back to Woodstock. He grinned, and fired a blast of light at him. Woodstock screamed in agony, but Broadway held fast to his shirt, keeping him there. "Protector..." Ariel said cautiously, "Remember the prophecy..." "The prophecy! Hah!" Broadway mocked. "I beat it, Ariel. I'm not going to kill him. But he just tried to kill Lexington. All I'm going to do is teach him a lesson." Broadway turned back, and fired at Woodstock again. The reddish gargoyle twisted in agony, trying to escape. Whitbourne jumped on top of Broadway, and Woodstock fell to the ground. Broadway roared, and writhed wildly, forcing the Newoundlander off of his back. Whitbourne went crashing into Ariel, and the two flew back. Broadway snarled. "Stop it!" he screamed. "Don't ever do that again!" He blasted all four of his friends, driving them all back. They landed on the floor, lying still. Broadway's mouth twisted into an appraising grin. He turned back, and picked up Woodstock again, who had been trying to crawl away. "Oh, no, you don't." Broadway muttered. He picked up Woodstock, and thrust his face down towrads Lexington's still form. "What did you do to him?" Broadway demanded, knowing perfectly well. "I...I stabbed him..." "So you tried to kill him." Woodstock swallowed. "Y...yes..." Broadway roared, and threw him across the room. He cried out, and smacked the wall heavily. There was a sickening splintering sound as his ribs cracked, and Woodstock was suddenly short of breath. Before his prey could even think to vanish, Broadway was over there, picking him up again. Every time something touched his chest, Woodstock whimpered in pain. "You tried to kill him?" Broadway repeated. In fear, Woodstock took a swing at Broadway, and hit him in the face. Broadway roared, and fired blasts at Woodstock. The last vestiges of control snapped, and he augmented the force. Woodstock screamed, in absolute torment now. Broadway laughed, and blasted again. And again. And again. *************************************************************************** ********** His body was nothing but pain, now. The blasts were pure concussive force, slamming into his body. It felt as if a sledgehammer was driving into him, leaving incredible damage in its wake. Bruises sprung up all over his body. One of the splinters of bone in his chest was driven forward, and his right lung was punctured. Several of his organs ruptured, and he began to bleed internally. Woodstock suddenly realized that he was about to die. And as the realization came to him, he felt the subversion disappear. He weakly opened one eye, but he could make nothing out other than the fact he wasn't in the bell tower, the last place he remembered being. But Woodstock didn't care. It didn't matter now. He didn't know or care who was killing him, but only hoped that somehow, the person would realize that what he was doing was wrong. As the blasts continued to rain down on him, he suddenly found the pain becoming bearable. In a matter of seconds, it had disappeared. A white light began to fill his vision, and he felt nothing but inner peace. The sounds of the room became distant and far away. He could hear somebody laughing, but nothing else. Then, even that was gone. Grimly, he remembered back to that day eleven years ago, when Jason Doyle, the man who had discovered the four gargoyles in the belfry of the church, had died in hospital. He'd been drunk driving after one of June Tibbo's parties, and had slammed into a transfer truck. He, Witless, Bonnie and Carb had gone to the accident site after everything had been cleared out, and grieved. Will they grieve for me? Woodstock wondered. I hope not. I'm going to a better place... Suddenly, the remaining images faded. There was only a white light, but then June Tibbo's house appeared in the brightness. Witless and Carb were there, waving him on. There was going to be a party, my son, and Marsha said she'd save a dance for ye! Carb said, and her voice seemed musical. As he peered into the windows, he saw that Brooklyn and the others were at the party too. So was Jason, and Loveless, who was getting beer poured over his head by Bonnie. As he approached the house, he realized that nothing would ever go wrong here. In life, he'd been one of the abandoned Clan Newfie, who never really seemed to belong with them. He'd come across as too rough, too crass. Perhaps, in death, he'd do better. He wouldn't be such a jerk with new people, like he'd been with the gargoyles from New York. He made one final wish, that the Manhattanites realized that he hadn't hated them, that that was just the way he was. But then, it didn't matter. The light swallowed Woodstock, and he was gone. *************************************************************************** ********** Broadway continued to blast him, revelling in his screams. But then, Woodstock stopped screaming, and simply took what came to him. He stopped firing, confused. He let Woodstock fall. The red gargoyle plummeted to the ground, striking limply. Oddly enough, that brought Broadway back. His eyes dimmed, and he knelt down. Woodstock's eyes were slightly open. In the harsh light of the moon outside, Broadway noticed that they weren't black anymore. "What have I done?" he asked himself, numbly. He knelt down, and placed a hand on Woodstock's shoulder. "Woodstock?" Broadway asked, shaking him gently. "I'm sorry, Woodstock. I lost control. But you'll be fine." "...better place..." Woodstock stated weakly. His eyes closed, and he rolled over limply on his side. "Woodstock? Woody?" Broadway frowned, shaking harder. Then, he noticed that Woodstock wasn't breathing. Felling a growing horror in the pit of his stomach, Broadway felt for a pulse. There was none. Broadway began to hyperventilate. "Oh, God." he whispered. "Oh, no. Oh, God. Please, no." Broadway fell backwards, and sat. Tears began to flow unchecked down his cheeks. I couldn't have killed him. I couldn't have. I beat the prophecy, damnit! What about the silhouette in the mirror? Broadway paled. Hudson had shown him who he was to kill, in the mirror maze. That's what he had forgotten after the Elisa incident. The silhouette in the mirror had been that of a gargoyle. Broadway, horrified, began to stare at Woodstock's body. He made a weak, strangled sound. Whitbourne walked over, rubbing his head, his eyes closed. "What the frigg did ye do, my son?" he asked Broadway pointedly. "I'se still feeling that." Then, he followed Broadway's sorrowful gaze downward, towards the silent, still form of Woodstock. "Oh, my..." Whitbourne exhaled. He fell down, and touched his friend's face. "What happened?" Whitbourne asked, confused. "He's dead." Broadway whispered. "He's dead, Whitbourne, and I killed him." Whitbourne looked down at Woodstock. "D...dead?" he asked smally. Broadway nodded. Fang, Ophelia and Ariel walked over, regarding the sorrowful sight. "Oh, God." Ophelia closed her eyes. She turned her head away. "I killed him! I'm sorry! God, I'm so sorry!" Broadway cried, collapsing into tears. Whitbourne tapped gently on Woodstock's shoulder. "He's not dead." he stated, refusing to believe. "C'mon, Woody. Wake up, now." Woodstock stared up at him with cold, sightless eyes. Whitbourne's eyes filled up with tears. "He can't be dead. Twasn't his time..." Ariel put his hand on his shoulder. "Whitbourne...I think..." Whitbourne swallowed, and closed his eyes. "I suppose you're right." he sighed, brokenly. "Broadway, my son, I thinks he's dead." And suddenly, Whitbourne collapsed onto Woodstock's body, and began to weep for his friend. His shoulders shook in wrenching sobs, and the sounds of his grief stricken wails filled the room. Broadway stared dully at the scene, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry." he stated, but he instinctively knew that that would never be enough. *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** ****************************** Chapter Four Brooklyn Sees The Light The three shadowy forms appeared on the roof of the castle, and the battle began anew. Brooklyn dodged the first bolts, and fired back several of his own. Silhouette screamed as they hit her. "You're a has-been, Sil." Brooklyn snarled. "You had your chance, and you blew it. Now, the power's been passed on to me." Silhouette cried out in rage, and blasted back. The shadows struck Brooklyn in the side of the face, and he went spiraling backwards. "I killed you before, Brooklyn." she growled. "Don't think I won't do it again." "Killed me?" Brooklyn stated mockingly. "Even then, you couldn't keep me down. I'm a survivor, Sil. Nothing you can do keeps me down for good." He roared, and slammed into her stomach with his fist as hard as he could. She doubled over in pain, clutching at her stomach and breathing in short, hollow barks. Brooklyn smiled cruelly. "You were just a pawn all long. A means for the Forbidding to get out and find capable leadership. ME." Silhouette looked up. "He'd be hard pressed to find it in you." Brooklyn stood up erect, and pointed to the Forbidding. "Ask it why it picked me. It's right there." The Forbidding, which had been standing quietly nearby, cleared its throat. "He's right." it stated. "You were but the means for my escape. I kept the power with you as long as it was necessary, and then retracted it." Silhouette stared in shock at the fog, and then at Brooklyn. She groaned, and collapsed. "You were using me all along." she remarked. The Forbidding nodded. Brooklyn crossed his arms, and stood aside with a satisfied smile. "I might consider letting you share in my future, Silhouette." Brooklyn grinned. "Not as my queen...I have another gargoyle in mind for that. But you can learn to serve me as a Servant of Twilight, too." Silhouette growled. Live as one of Brooklyn's Servants? "I'd rather die." she spat. Brooklyn shrugged. "Hey. I'm flexible." He raised his hands, and took another shot at her. It hit her in the head, and she writhed in pain. Soon, she was still. Alive, but unconscious. Brooklyn looked to the Forbidding. "Well, that's that." *************************************************************************** ********** Not long after they reached the staircase, the illusion was lost. Hawthorne, Angela and Carbonear were visible again, racing upwards. When they got to the top floor, Angela led them towards the stairs to the roof. Carbonear looked worried. "I don't know if I has any idea how to save him." she admitted. Hawthorne looked over to her. "Don't worry. The six of us have been winging it most of the way." They ascended the stairs hurridly, but quietly. As they emerged on the top of the tower, they were only confronted by the November breeze. "Where are they?" Angela asked, raising an eyebrow. Hawthorne cautiously peered over the side of the tower. "They're directly below us." she stated. "Still fighting." Carbonear and Angela peeked over as well, and winced as Brooklyn blasted Silhouette for the final time. Silhouette fell to the ground, and was still. "Well, that's that." Brooklyn stated succinctly. Carbonear looked to Angela. "Let's do it." she swallowed. "I'se as ready as I'se ever gonna be." She leapt up onto the parapet, and dove off into the air, spreading her wings. Angela and Hawthorne followed. *************************************************************************** ********** Brooklyn cracked his knuckles. "Now that she's gone, we should go check in on the Ringbearer and the others. They should be either dead or subverted by now." He clenched one hand into a fist. "When we find the Ringbearer, though, she's mine." "Do you plan on killing her?" The Forbidding asked. Brooklyn frowned, and struck a pensive expression. "No. I want her subverted. She'll be my queen." There was a swooping sound behin them. Brooklyn spun around to see Hawthorne, Carbonear and Angela land. "Well, speak of the devil, talk about timing." Brooklyn smirked. "Hello, ladies. What can I do for you?" "Spare the snideness, Brooklyn." Angela growled. Carbonear noticed her stance out of the corner of her eye, and imitated it. "We's not here to fight, bye. We's here to save." "Save?" Brooklyn laughed, crossing his arms. "Save me from what? Myself? I'll say it one last time. I chose this." "No, you didn't." Hawthorne stepped forward. "You sacrificed your freedom to save me. But we're here to bring you home." Brooklyn was about to reply when the Forbidding swirled forward. "No, I don't think so. Brooklyn made his decision, and the least you can do is accept its permanence." Hawthorne continued her advance, almost until her nose was touching the Forbidding. "Can't he answer for himself?" she asked. "Of course. But..." "Then let him." Carbonear frowned, nudging Angela. The two marched up to stand beside Hawthorne. "I don't think that's wise." the Forbidding replied. "You see, I know about your little powers, Savior. How am I to know you won't use it to snatch him unfairly from the team he's chosen to work with?" "He didn't choose! Silhouette was strangling me, and he accepted subversion to save me! He didn't want it any more than he wanted me to die!" Hawthorne yelled. The Forbidding laughed. "Let him be the judge of that." A shadow swirled around the foggy mass of the Forbidding, and reformed into Brooklyn's lean form. The gargoyle stepped forward, facing Hawthorne. "Deep down, I wanted this, beloved." Brooklyn whispered ominously. "All along, this is what I truly wanted. The only thing missing is you by my side." Hawthorne's mouth twisted in pain. "No! You don't understand!" "Don't I?" Brooklyn asked quietly. "Hawth, I knew what I was getting into when I made the choice. I did it to save your life, because I still loved you. I always will." Hawthorne wrung her hands, and looked at Brooklyn's face. His expression was hopeful and loving. One hand was extended, waiting for Hawthorne to grasp it. "Please?" he asked. He held out the hand even more. Hawthorne stared stupidly at it. Angela growled, but Brooklyn waved, and she and Carbonear were suddenly paralyzed. Hawthorne registered that fact dimly, but turned her attention back to Brooklyn. A tear was running down his cheek. "I still love you." he mumbled. Almost hypnotically, Hawthorne began to shift her weight forward, in preparation to take his hand. But suddenly, she shook free of it. She reached into her pocket, and withdrew the Ring. Shrieking, she plunged the arc of metal into the Forbidding. She pushed out her will into the Ring, trying to force it to destroy the Forbidding. The Ring flared, and began to glow. The Forbidding screamed, and Brooklyn clutched his stomach in pain. Hawthorne watched in grim satisfaction as the Ring continued its steady glow. Angela and Carbonear began moving again. Hawthorne withdrew the Ring, and Brooklyn fell to the ground. The three ran over to him. He was alive. "We have to do it now. While they're down." Angela hissed. Carbonear sighed. "I...I thinks I knows how to use my power. You needs to help me, though." Angela nodded. Carbonear began to concentrate, and her eyes began to glow green. *************************************************************************** ********** There was an intense rushing of air, and Carbonear suddenly felt herself almost detached from her body. She tried to open her eyes, but couldn't. But she had an awareness of what was going on. Suddenly, she felt something else brush up against her mind...or, more accurately, she elt her mind brush up against something else. Brooklyn's eyes snapped open. [OH, JESUS.] Carbonear swore. [CHRIST ALMIGHTY, I'SE INSIDE HIS FRIGGING HEAD!] She felt a stirring of consciousness, and an awakening. Who...Brooklyn thought, feeling the presence of another awareness in his mind. Without really understanding how, Carbonear projected some thoughts back. [IT'S CARBONEAR. BELIEVE ME, I'SE JUST AS CONFUSED AS YE.] she replied, mentally, amazed. She was actually INSIDE Brooklyn's thoughts! "Savior!" Brooklyn said aloud. Angela and Hawthorne gave him quizzical looks. With dismay, Carbonear realized that the corrupted Brooklyn was still in control. [EASE UP, BYE. TIME TO DO SOME SOUL-SEARCHING.] Carbonear quipped. Brooklyn hissed. "Carbonear, I don't know how you did it, but get out of my head. I mean it." [CAN'T DO THAT, BROOKS. YOU GOTS TO SEE THE TRUTH.] She marvelled at what she was doing. Here she was, actually sending her very thoughts clearly into someone else's head! But she didn't take very long to marvel. With a grim sigh, instinctively knowing what to do, she got down to work. *************************************************************************** ********** "Carbonear's inside his head?" Hawthorne asked, confusedly. She stared at Brooklyn. The Leader was frowning, looking around for Carbonear. His eyes came upon her body, standing motionless nearby, and he paled. "How are you doing this?" he asked. "...Ariel? That little instigator's always one step ahead. I was hoping that he hadn't granted you your power yet...How many times do I have to tell you? I don't want you to save me. You're wasting your time..." Angela raised an eyebrow as Brooklyn seemingly had a conversation with himself. If the situation wasn't so grave, it might have been comical. Suddenly, she felt a blast strike her back, and she flew forward, skidding across the courtyard. She lo