Story #7
Description: In the middle of a campaign of religious bombings in New York City, Brooklyn and Carbonear's relationship continues to grow stronger...but will tragedy strike?

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, I have decided that in this, and in every future story, I am ignoring the existance of any episodes after "Hunter's Moon, Part Three", for the most part.  Not because I don't like them, because I LOVE them, but because they and my universe conflict so badly that letting anything besides the first two seasons exist would make my stories unintelligible in terms of my plotline.  Finally, this story contains mature subject matter (language, violence and intended sexual reference), so read at your own volition.  However, reader discretion is advised.
This story is dark.  I won't deny it, nor will I apologize for it.  No doubt I'm gonna be criticized for it, as some of the scenes in this aren't pretty.  But the sad truth is that things like this happen.  The sad truth is that life isn't always pretty.  Then again, it isn't always sorrowful.  Religion is a two sided thing...for most people, it's a powerful testament to the good in everyone.  For others, it's the perfect excuse to hurt people.  And for those of you who think this story is too graphic or too disturbing, that things like this don't happen in real life, then all I can say is that you probably haven't been watching the nightly news.
The Rockaway, Ramona, Sasha, Gomez, and Frank are all the intellectual property of the esteemed Christi Smith Hayden.  Ya bust, me girl!

HISTORIAN'S NOTE:  This story begins one and a half months after "The Savant, Part III", and three months after "Take These Broken Wings".

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        For Mary, my girlfriend, best friend, inspiration and savior all in one.  A Maritimer went a' courting and found the most beautiful person in the world.  I love you very much.

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        I just want to hold you closer than I've ever held anyone before,
        You say you've been twice a wife, and you're through with life,
        Ah, but honey, what the hell's it for?
        After twenty-three years, you'd think I could find a way to let you know somehow,
        That I want to see your smiling face forty-five years from now,
        Oh, yes, I want to see your smiling face forty-five years from now.

        Stan Rogers, "Forty-Five Years"

 
        What if God was one of us?
        Just a slob like one of us?
        Just a stranger on the bus, tryin' to make his way home,
        Like a holy rollin' stone,
        Back up to heaven all alone,
        Nobody callin' on the phone, 'cept for the Pope maybe in Rome.

        Joan Osborne, "One of Us"
 

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BROOKLYN:  "Now the two of us begin."
"Take These Broken Wings"

GOLIATH: (voice-over)  "Previously, on 'Gargoyles'..."

WHITBOURNE, CARBONEAR AND BONAVISTA:  "For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, now and forever, amen."
(Show Broadway, Whitbourne, Bonavista and Carbonear making the sign of the cross, "Take These Broken Wings")
"Take These Broken Wings"

BROOKLYN:  "I...I've fallen in love with you, Carb."
(Show Brooklyn giving Hawthorne's pendant to Carbonear, "Take These Broken Wings")
BROOKLYN:  "No spells.  Nothing's making me say it.  I love you."
"Take These Broken Wings"
 

CARBONEAR:  "Don't ever change, okay?"
"Take These Broken Wings"

BROOKLYN:  "I've never been more happy in all of my life, Witless.  We joke around and have a lot of fun, but when we're alone, we're never happier either.  She told me that when I want to be, I can be the most romantic person in the world."
(Show Carbonear and Brooklyn at the movies, "Heart of a Saturday Night")
(Show Brooklyn and Carbonear kissing, "Nobody Nowhere")
"Convergence"

LAINE:  "I wonder if all people from upstate New York are that strange.  The way he kept muttering to himself about God and decadence..."
(Show Matt flipping through the Regnum Dei report, "Nobody Nowhere")
"Convergence"
 

GOLIATH:  "Welcome to our clan, Delilah."
DELILAH:  "That's my Christmas present for Whit.  I'm moving in with him."
(Show Whitbourne and Delilah kissing, "Lady Delilah's Lover")
"The Music of the Night"

MATT:  "Cornelia Anne Stallman...will you marry me?"
(Show Matt proposing to Cornelia, "Take These Broken Wings")
"Take These Broken Wings"

LEXINGTON:  "Even though it's been a month now, it feels like we've only been in love since yesterday."
OPHELIA:  "We still have a long time ahead of us."
"The Music of the Night"

KENNEDY: "No, you didn't come on too strong.  Bonnie, we're great friends, and that's the only impression you gave me as what you wanted."
(Show Bonavista and Kennedy laughing, "Take These Broken Wings")
"The Music of the Night"

BROOKLYN:  "And remember when I was so depressed?  How I was scared that if I ever loved someone again, I'd lose them, just like I lost Hawthorne?"
(Show Brooklyn and Carbonear in front of Hawthorne's statue, "Take These Broken Wings")
BROOKLYN:  "Part of me's just afraid.  You know, that if I say I love you, that I'll lose you, just like I lost her."
"Heart of a Saturday Night"

BROOKLYN:  "I kept my promise, Hawth.  I found someone who loves me, and who I love deeply, with all of my heart.  I'm going to spend my life with her."
"Take These Broken Wings"

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Prologue

                Blessed Are The Poor In Spirit...

National Broadcasting Corporation Headquarters
February 15, 1998
10:09 a.m., Eastern Standard Time

        It was going to be a slow news day.
        Travis Marshall could feel it in his bones...the old newshound instincts were dead in the water.  Tonight's edition of the NBC Nightly News would be yet another ratings flop...how could it be otherwise?   When the average headline for the day was the Dow Jones dropping another ten points, you couldn't expect the average American viewer to care.  People seemed to want flashy news...another Princess Diana, another Oklahoma City, another...God forbid...O.J. Simpson.
        He swivelled in his desk, and looked over the lineup for the night's news.  He had been put up to an anchor position last year, sometime after his coverage of a scandal in the CIA, and he had learned that all being an anchor meant was constant, relentless boredom.
        Oh, there were a few exceptions.  On one of last week's programs, they had aired a segment on "The Decline of Religion in America".  That had gotten some response.  NBC had gotten everything from a polite letter asking for a followup from the National Council of Anglican Ministers to several letters of hate mail from the Bible Belt.  Add to that a mysterious explosion at an abortion clinic on the Upper West Side, and you got one large suspicion that if anything was going to pull ratings up, it would be religion.
        He walked out of his office, and grabbed a coffee.  As he walked back, he spotted the executive producer of the show stalking to someone at the far side of the room.
        "Hey, Richard!"  Travis called.  Richard Dingwall looked up, as did the other man, who Travis then recognized as Frank Pulianni, the news editor.  They waved him over.
        "Hello, Travis."  Richard greeted him.  "I was just talking to..."
        At that moment, there was suddenly a loud booming noise from down below them.  The building started to shake, hard enough to break several windows.  A secretary's coffee cup went crashing to the floor.  The building stopped moving, and the three men looked around confusedly.
        "What the hell.."  Richard began.  Smoke suddenly began pouring under the door from the stairwell.
        "Oh, shit."  Travis yelled.  "Fire!"
        "The phones are dead!"  somebody yelled, who had obviously just tried to call the fire department.
        Everyone in the room began racing towards the other stairwell, panicking to escape the building.  I wonder if this'll be newsworthy, Travis thought.  That query was quickly followed by another.  What the hell happened? he asked himself.
        When he got outside and walked around to the front of the building, seeing a gaping hole in the wall of the NBC Building and rubble strewn about all over the street, he suddenly realized that maybe this wasn't going to be such a slow news day after all.
 

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        An hour later, Elisa Maza and Matt Bluestone, both of whom had been called out of bed, were picking through the ruins of the first two floors of the NBC Building, along with several other officers.
        "Jesus."  Matt Bluestone whistled, seeing the extent of the damage.
        "Yes, Matt.  This is definitely a Jesus if I ever saw one."  Elisa sighed.  She looked around and watched as the forensics people began to sift through the rubble.  One person had been killed in the blast, and dozens had been injured.
        "Quite the start to a day."  Matt frowned, picking up a piece of concrete.
        "This is getting freaky.  Two bombings in a week.  This is all the city needs, a serial bomber."  Elisa muttered.
        "You're jumping the gun a bit, aren't you?"  Matt blinked.  "I mean, there's no indication the bombings are connected.  There's a bit of a difference between an uptown abortion clinic and a huge broadcasting corporation."  He looked upward.  "I wonder what Seinfeld has to say about this."
        People roamed about, picking through the blasted desks and streams of rubble.  A camera flash off Elisa's left caught her attention, and she found herself staring at Billy Ledwell, Chief of Forensics for the 23rd precinct.
        "Find anything, Billy?"   Elisa asked.
        "Yeah.  We found Pat Buchanan in the back of the building claiming responsibility."  Ledwell rolled his eyes.   "Cut me a break.  I just got here."
        "This all had the looks of a Gingrich attack to me."  Matt looked away.  Elisa groaned loudly, and frowned.
        "Well, to be fair, one of the tech boys found a trace amounts of chemicals."  Ledwell continued.   "It's starting to look like this was an amateur job."
        "If you can call this amateur."  Elisa sighed.  She yawned.  "I got woken up for this."

        "Look, Elisa, let's head back to the office.  They don't need us here."  Matt sighed.  "We're just getting in the way."
        "You're probably ri..."  Elisa began, but suddenly one of the rookies started making a commotion.
        "Detective Maza!"  he shouted.  She looked over, and saw a young man holding up a piece of paper with a pair of tweezers.
        "What have you got, Ben?"  Elisa walked over.  Ben Paynter, the detective in question, shrugged.
        "I dunno."  he stated.  "But I think we'd better take this back with us."
        Elisa looked at him, and then looked at the paper.
 
        "How great are your works, O Lord!  How very deep are your thoughts!
        A senseless man knows not, nor does a fool understand this.
        Though the wicked flourish like grass and all evildoers thrive,
        They are destined for eternal destruction
        While you, O Lord, are most high forever."
        Psalms 92: 6-9

        "A Bible verse?"  she whispered.  Paynter shrugged.
        "I'm gonna take this back to the office."  Elisa muttered.  She called Ledwell over.  The forensics chief looked at the paper, made a peculiar face, and then put the paper carefully into a plastic bag.
        "What do you make of it?"  Paynter asked.
        "I have no idea."  Elisa muttered.

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Castle Wyvern
6:03 p.m., EST

        "Holy frigg!"  Broadway whistled, reading the newspaper.  He set it down on the kitchen table, took a drink of orange juice, and started to read the story.
        "What?"  Bonavista asked, spearing a bit of egg on his fork.
        "NBC got bombed."  Broadway explained.  "One person killed, thirty-seven injured."
        The clan was eating breakfast.  They hadn't heard of the explosion before this, so it was news to everyone.  The entire clan looked around in shock.
        "Isn't that the second bombing this week?"  Angela asked.
        "Uh huh.  They got an abortion clinic last Saturday."  Brooklyn stated.  "Nobody killed in that one, though."
        "That's terrible."  Delilah shook her head, delicately buttering her toast.  "About the person being killed today, I mean."
        Goliath, who was quietly finishing his own breakfast, cleared his throat.  "Perhaps we should take a look into this."
        "Do we have to?"  Whitbourne groaned.  He was still cooking over at the kitchen stove, flipping pieces of bacon and putting down toast.  "I means, frigg, we's just gettin' off them stepped up patrols cause of them jewel thieves last month."
        "The ones who locked their keys in the getaway car.  How stupid can you get?"  Broadway groaned.  "It says here that the bombing at NBC shared similar characteristics with the bombing at the WomanCare clinic, but that police aren't divulging any more information."
        "Nice reading."  Hudson commented.
        "Thanks."  Broadway replied absently.   "Elisa got interviewed."
        "May I see that, please?"  Goliath asked.  Broadway handed him the paper.  Goliath read the snippet, and his mouth twisted into a studious curve.  "If she comes over tonight, I'll ask her about it."
        "She probably won't be able to be after tellin' ye about an ongoin' investigation, my son."  Bonavista stated with his mouth full.
        "I didn't have to see that, Bonnie."  Ophelia scowled, smacking him. Bonavista shot her  a mildly hurt look.
        Carbonear finished off her eggs, and set her plate aside.  "Well, I'se sure they'll be somethin' on all this on the news."  she smiled.  "Witless, thanks for a wicked breakfast."
        "Don't mention it.  Hey, nobody tell Xanatos that I put out the pilot light, OK?"  Whitbourne frowned, banging the stove.
        Brooklyn rolled his eyes.  "Thanks, Witless."  he stated.
        "You comin'?"  Carbonear asked him.  He nodded, and the two walked out of the room together.
        "I'd imagine that bombin'll be after givin' em all somethin' to talk about."  Carbonear stated.

        "Yeah."  Brooklyn nodded.  "Well, supposedly we all need something new to be doing.  Life's been pretty settled since we got Lex back."
        Carbonear smiled, and took Brooklyn's hand.  "I dunno."  she whispered.  "I kinda like they way things has been goin'."
        Brooklyn grinned, ran his hands through her hair, and kissed her.  "If you mean things like that, then yeah."  he agreed.
        Since Christmas, life at the castle had been very sedentary.  Brooklyn was still struggling to learn how to play the fiddle that Carbonear had gotten for him, but other than that, Brooklyn and Carbonear's lives had settled into a rather contented state.  That suited Brooklyn just fine.
        While last night had been rough...it had been the first anniversary of his attempted suicide...he was finding himself less fixated on that event.  The pain over Hawthorne's death was now a dim distant memory, and while he still missed her, it didn't hurt.  He instead focused on his growing, blossoming relationship with Carbonear.  Over the past month, he and Carbonear had done something together every night...be it watch a movie, play a game of pool, or just go for a midnight glide over the docks.  They spent a lot of time together, and with every passing minute that Brooklyn spent with her, he fell more in love with her.

        To think I waited a year for this, he thought, lightly tickling her hand.
        "So Matt's wedding is in four days, too."  Brooklyn noted.  "Figure out what you're gonna wear yet?"
        "The dress ye got me for Christmas, my son.  What else?"  Carbonear grinned.  "How about ye?  Ye can't go wearin' your Rockaway track suit."
        "Oh, Xanatos got a whole bunch of tuxedos and the store he bought them at is doing alterations."  Brooklyn jokingly scowled.  "They're all his old ones, but he had to get a few resized for Goliath and Broadway and Hudson and Lex."
        "Truth be told, Brook, the thought of ye in a tuxedo..."  Carbonear grinned, playing with his hair.  "There's something awful attractive about that."
        Brooklyn grinned awkwardly, and suddenly began staring at his feet.  Carbonear laughed, and kissed him again.
        "Awful kissy tonight, aren't you?"  Brooklyn noted.
        "I'm expecting a few in return."  Carbonear winked, and she coyly walked away from him.  She glanced over her shoulder, and smiled.
        "Well, no fair running off."  Brooklyn protested, and he walked up behind her.  She spun around, and the two gargoyles gave each other a long, lingering French kiss, which was ended only after they opened their eyes.
        "So what do you want to do tonight?"  Brooklyn asked.
        "Witless and Delilah are playin' Trivial Pursuit after with Lex and Ophelia."  Carbonear stated.  "Wanna play with them?"
        "Why not?"  Brooklyn shrugged.  "But...well, I was thinking of something the two of us could do after that."
        Carbonear looked out the window, at the snow covered parapets outside. "Any patrols tonight?"
        "Yeah, but it's just a small one."
        "Well, we'll see how cold it is, and if she ain't too chilly we could go out and build a snowman or something."
        "Sounds awful juvenile."  Brooklyn grinned.  "I dunno, Carb, the temptation to throw a snowball might be too great."
        "Do so at your own peril, buddy."  Carbonear warned, and then they both burst out laughing.

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        Back in the kitchen, everything had been cleaned up.  All of the gargoyles had gone, except for Whitbourne, who was cleaning up the mess he had made in the kitchen.
        "Friggin' eggs."  he scowled, picking up a few scattered eggshells.  "This place is a goddamn pigsty."
        "And you have no one to blame but yourself."  Delilah stated, walking into the kitchen and over towards him.  Whitbourne turned around, smiled, and went back to scrubbing eggs off the countertop.
        "Here to gloat, is ye?"  Whitbourne asked.
        "No.  Here to help."  Delilah corrected.  "I figure that since I'm living here now, I might as well help keep it clean."
        She started loading dishes into the dishwasher.  Whitbourne stopped what he was doing to admire her for a minute.  Since she had moved to the castle over Christmas, things at the castle seemed much more brighter for him.  After all, he could spend practically every waking moment with her.  That, in and of itself, was a wonderful gift.   And while the other gargoyles, excited that the clan had grown or that a very good friend had moved in, had reasons to be happy, Whitbourne was finding it increasingly harder not to spend his whole night in an ecstatic sort of haze.
        He suddenly leaned over, gave her a hug, running his hands through her hair and inhaling her scent.  Delilah stiffened, and then melted into his arms, turning around and kissing him.
        "Er...I don't suppose you'd let me through there, would you?"  Xanatos asked, seemingly coming out of nowhere.  Whitbourne and Delilah turned, and blushed.  Xanatos smirked, and got a glass of water from the tap.
        "We was just cleanin' up the kitchen, Mr. Xanatos..."  Whitbourne began.
        "Thanks."  he replied.   "You don't have to, though.  I have a cleaning staff."
        "We like helping."  Delilah smiled.  "Sort of a thank-you for your hospitality."
        "Well, it's very much appreciated."  Xanatos nodded.
        Whitbourne nodded, and then winced.  "Oh...uh, Mr. Xanatos...ye might want to be after gettin' someone to check out that pilot light..."
 
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Williston Park, Long Island
6:51 p.m., EST

        The room was lit solely with candles.  On the wall hung several pictures of Jesus Christ, most notably one prominent painting of Him in the garden of Gethsemane.  He was praying, while in the background, the Roman soldiers were fast approaching, come to take Him away.  However, the picture of Jesus did not look at all kind...the face of the Savior looked almost contemptuous.  Almost malevolent.
        Kneeling on the floor of the room in front of that picture, were five men.  They were chanting to themselves, repeatedly making the sign of the cross.  Once they had finished, they stood up.

        "Was it successful, Brother Michael?"  one of the men asked.
        "Yes, Brother Clarence."  Brother Michael replied.  He was a short, balding man, who was constantly pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose.  "Those who dared mock our faith have been dealt a lesson.  Much like the demons who dared kill the unborn children and call it 'choice'."
        "Good."  the man at the front of the room stated vehemently.  On the whole, he was quite unremarkable...much like Brother Michael, he was balding, and had small glasses, though he was taller.  However, he was also in the throes of religious ecstasy at the moment, and that made him seem quite altogether different.  His lips were moist with spit, and his eyes were wide.  "Soon the entire city will have heard the message of Regnum Dei, not just those who presume to defile the innocent with their venomous lies and hideous murders."
        "I've written the letter to the police, as you asked, Brother Charles."  another man stated.
        "Excellent."  Brother Charles whispered.  "They'll soon know that we're not terrorists as they will undoubtably claim.  We won't hide behind anonymity.  We'll instead  let the police...and through them, the city...know who we are, and what we are doing."
        "Purging this city of the unrighteous."  Brother Michael declared, sounding almost as excited as Brother Charles.
        Brother Charles himself turned to a desk, on which was single piece of paper.  It was a list...a very long list.  The first name was "Abortionists".  It was crossed out, but with a dark red line.  The second name was "The Media".  Brother Charles' lip curled into a hateful sneer, and he reached for a pin.  He pricked himself on the finger, and drew his fingertip across the paper.  His blood crossed off "The Media", leaving a dark red swath overtop of it.
        "We shall wait to deliver another message."  Brother Charles stated.
        "Who's next?"  Brother Clarence asked.
        "Patience."  Brother Charles smiled.  "All in good time."

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23rd Precinct House
7:00 p.m.

        "I can't make it over tonight, Goliath."  Elisa spoke into the phone.  "I'm in the middle of investigating that bombing today...yeah, yeah, they pulled me into overtime a couple of hours after it happened.  I'll try and make it over tomorrow...tell everyone I said hi.  I love you.  G'night."  She hung up the phone, and stared at it, smiling.  With a large sigh, she turned back to her desk, where a photocopy of the note at the crime scene was awaiting her reading pleasure.
        Matt Bluestone was in the chair next to her, reading over the reports on the bombing.  "Forensics says it was a pipe bomb.  Packed with enough volatile material to do major damage.  They think that whoever made it had more than a passing knowledge of chemistry."
        "So we know that the guy knows his chemistry, and that he's also a religious nut."  Elisa muttered.  She picked up the photocopy, and then another piece of paper on her desk.  It was another photocopied note, this one found at the smoking ruins of the WomanCare abortion clinic.

        "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
         Before you were born I dedicated you,
        A prophet to the nations I appointed you."
        Jeremiah 1:5

        The note had been faxed over by Detective Franklin Cusack of the 19th Precinct, who had investigated the bombing.  As far as Elisa could tell, the handwriting was identical.
        "What do you think?'  Matt asked.  "Do you think we have a bona fide serial bomber?"
        "It's starting to look that way."  Elisa stated.  "The religious penchant kind of tips it off, too.  We're dealing with a nut who likes to blow things up and quote Bible scripture, and who likes to hang around the scene of the bombing."
        "Cause the notes were found in the rubble but they weren't burned or damaged or anything.  Whoever this guy is, he hangs around and sticks these notes in."
        "Detective Maza, Detective Bluestone, could I see you in my office for a minute?"  Captain Maria Chavez called from her office.  Elisa and Matt looked at each other, and walked in.
        As they got in, Maria shut the door.  "Yes, captain?"  Elisa asked.
        "Any thoughts on the bombing?"  Chavez asked, swallowing an Asprin.
        "It looks like both NBC and WomanCare were bombed by the same person.   Someone who's familiar with chemistry and who may be involved in a religious cult."  Elisa stated.  "Of course, that's just a guess we were throwing around..."
        "Hmm."  Chavez muttered.  "I've just gotten a call from Captain MacDermott from the 19th Precinct.  He thinks that officers from both precincts...his and ours...should corroberate on this investiagtion.  Working independantly, but sharing information.  I've decided that I want you two to be in charge of the 23rd's contribution.  Matt, I know you have a wedding coming up..."
        Both Chavez and Elisa looked at Matt, and smiled.  Matt blushed, but said nothing.
        "...so you can work on this, but you'll be given time off for your wedding.  And in the meantime...I've also gotten a call from the FBI."
        "The FBI?"  Matt blinked.
        "They've asked us if we want any assistance in the investigation.  If it was just the abortion clinic, I'd have turned it down, but judging from the fact that our bomber is going after more prominent targets, and the fact that he may be a serial bomber, I've decided to accept.  Two agents will be up here assisting you, one of whom was involved in the investigation of the bombing in Oklahoma City.  Agents..."  she looked at a piece of paper.  "Agents Darcy Lockyer and Andrea Scully."
        "Agent Scully?"  Elisa blinked.
        "She's supposedly used to being teased about it."  Chavez smirked.  "They're flying in from Washington tomorrow morning.  If you two don't mind, I'd like to switch you over to the day shift for the duration of this investigation.  You'll still be working together, and it's more to fit into the time frame that the agents will be working on."
        Matt and Elisa looked at each other, and shrugged.  "I guess so."  Elisa nodded.
        "Thanks very much."  Chavez nodded.  "I really appreciate it.  And Elisa...um, well, I haven't got a chance to talk to Hudson lately, but if your friends wouldn't mind keeping an eye out for suspicious goings on during the night, I'd really appreciate it."
        "I'll run it by them."  Elisa smiled.
        "You do that."  Chavez stated.  "You can punch out early tonight, you two...stick around till ten or so and then go home and get some sleep.  Lockyer and Scully will be arriving about noon."
        "All right."  Matt nodded.  The two detectives left.
        "We're in the big leagues now."  Matt commented dryly.   "Man.  I've been working so long on night shift I've forgotten what daytime's like."
        "Uh huh.   Well after we finish up here, I'm gonna go over to the castle, I guess.  Pop in on Goliath if he's not on patrol."  Elisa muttered.   "Come on.  Let's get back to work."

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Castle Wyvern
9:12 p.m., EST

        The dice rolled.  "One, two, three."  Lexington counted, moving his game piece onto the pink space.
        "Oh, entertainment."  Brooklyn grinned, drawing a card from the Trivial Pursuit box.  "Think hard, Lex.  'What Canadian-born actress became America's sweetheart?' "
        Lexington stared at Brooklyn, and Whitbourne, Carbonear, Delilah and Ophelia all began to laugh.  "Even I knows that one, Lex."  Whitbourne laughed.
        "Shut up.  I know this."  Lexington snapped.  "She was in that soap ad..."
        "That's no good.  You gotta give a name."  Brooklyn smirked.
        "Aw, damn!"  Lexington groaned.  "I don't know!"
        "Mary Pickford."  Brooklyn grinned.   "Give me those dice."
        They were playing Trivial Pursuit in the den.  Lexington, who had recovered fully from his autism several months ago, grudgingly handed Brooklyn the dice.  The odor of cigarette smoke filled the air; Whitbourne had indulged and had lit up.
        "We should head down to the Rockaway tomorrow night."  Carbonear stated.  "I hear they's a pretty good band playin'."
        "Maybe."  Ophelia shrugged.  She had been to the Rockaway a couple of times since Christmas, apparently over the fiasco that had been Hallowe'en.  "I mean, if everyone else is going..."
        "We're on patrol tomorrow night."  Brooklyn remarked.  "If Bonnie, Broadway, Goliath, Angela and Hudson are all on it tonight, we have to go on it tomorrow.  So we'll have to plan around that.  But yeah, I'm up for it."
        "What band's playin' that ye wants to go see?"  Whitbourne asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.  Delilah watched him, and made a small sigh.
        "Wide Mouth Mason."  Carbonear replied.  She took the dice and rolled them, moving her game piece.
        "We have that CD."  Lexington recalled.  "Yeah, they aren't that bad."
        "All right, so it's a date."  Brooklyn grinned.  He drew another card.  "You got History, Carb.  'What was the nickname of convict Robert F. Stroud'?"
        "The Birdman of Alcatraz."  Carbonear replied, not missing a beat.
        And so the game went on.   Lexington came back from behind to take the win, and he gloated fairly well as the game was put away.
        "I told you.  I'm the trivia master."  he bragged.  "Ain't nobody that can beat me."
        "You just watch, my son."  Whitbourne frowned, about ready to peg a game piece at him.  He turned to the girls. "How's about ye's go to the games room?  We can do somethin' else in there after we gets this stuff put away."
        "Sure thing."  Carbonear exclaimed.  The three girls turned and left the room.
        "I suppose that's one way to impress your mate, Lex, beat everyone at a board game."  Brooklyn smiled.  Lexington handed him the dice, and grinned.
        "I don't have to worry about impressing her."  he stated.  "Since last November, it's just like...I don't know, it's like no matter what I do, it's good enough for her all of a sudden.    That suits me fine."
        "Well, ye deserve that."  Whitbourne nodded.  "I s'pose if it was me that was after becomin' autistic, Delilah and I'd feel the same way once it was over.  I hope she'd feel the same way."
        "She's nuts about you, Witless.  Of course she would."  Brooklyn laughed.
        "Look at ye talkin'."  Whitbourne chuckled.  "Ye still got Carbonear friggin' goin' on about ye every night.  She's addicted to ye."
        "I'm addicted to her, too."  Brooklyn stated in a bit of a softer voice.  "I mean...we were talking a bit tonight, and...frigg, Whitbourne, every time I look at her...her eyes, her hair, her smile...it's corny, I know, but it's like I fall in love with her all over again every time I look at her."
        Lexington and Whitbourne looked at each other, and grinned.  "Nothin' wrong with that, Brooklyn."  Lexington said.
        "I know."  Brooklyn smiled.  "And you two are pretty lucky too."
        He blinked, and looked to the door.  "Considering they're waiting for us, I guess we had better go meet them."
        "We'd be a bunch of goddamn hypocrites if we was goin' on about how much we loved 'em and we stood 'em up, wouldn't we?"  Whitbourne agreed.  The three gargoyles packed away the board game, and left the room.

*********************************************************************************************

        "What do you want to do for the rest of the night?"  Delilah asked, looking around the games room.  She now knew her way around the castle like the back of her hand, much like the others...the fact that she had had ten people to give her a tour helped greatly in that respect.  She looked over at the pool table.
        "Nah.  I doesn't feel like playin' pool t'night."   Carbonear stated, responding to her unspoken question.
        "So what do you want to do?"  Ophelia asked.
        Carbonear shrugged.  "Whatever Brooklyn wants to do, I guess."
        "Can't you think for yourself?"  Delilah teased.  Carbonear mimicked her, and grinned.
        "Course I can.  But why should I do all the work?"  she laughed.  She sat down on the chair, and flipped on the TV.  The news was on, giving details of today's bombing at NBC.  She frowned; she didn't know why, but she had a gut feeling that today's bombing would soon become intimately involved in the gargoyles' lives.
        "That's horrible, isn't it?"  Ophelia asked, looking at the TV.  "It still amazes me why people do things like that."
        "The world ain't all bad."  Carbonear looked up.  "Just cause bad stuff happens every now and then, it ain't no reason to think that the world's an awful place."
        "I don't think it is."  Ophelia clarified.   "I think that there's some sad things that go on in it, though..."
        Carbonear looked at the TV screen, which was now giving details on the latest massacre in Algeria.  "Yeah, well it's like that all over the world, me girl."  she stated.  "I guess all we can really do is keep lookin' for the positive."
        "Like Christmas was."  Delilah added in, walking over.  "I still remember watching on the news how that group of bikers raised two thousand dollars and donated it to the United Way for Christmas."
        "Ye's are gettin' awful philosophical, aren't ye's?"  Whitbourne stated, walking in.  Brooklyn and Lexington were following.
        "Yeah, here comes trouble."  Carbonear rolled her eyes.  "C'mon sit down, Brook.  I gots your seat all warmed up for ye."
        "Don't mind if I do, pretty lady."  Brooklyn grinned, leaping up over the back of the couch and sitting down.   "What do you want to watch?"
        "Anyone want to play pool?"  Lexington asked.  Ophelia, Whitbourne and Delilah all walked over towards the pool table.
        "How cold is it outside?"  Whitbourne asked.  "I wants to laugh at Bonnie when he comes back with icicles in his hair."
        Brooklyn flipped to the Weather Network.  "It's twenty-seven degrees out, twenty-four with the wind chill."  he reported.  "Don't laugh, Witless, we're out on patrol tomorrow night."  He looked at Carbonear, and flipped the TV back to the movie channel before grabbing a blanket.
        Whitbourne made a typically caustic remark, but neither gargoyle heard it.  Brooklyn smiled, and leaned back against the arm of the couch.  He looked invitingly at Carbonear.  She smiled, and leaned down against him.
        "Better'n any pillow, this."  she smiled.
        "I aim to please."  Brooklyn replied.  He threw the blanket overtop of both of them, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, running one hand through her cottony-white locks of hair.  She made a contented little sigh...the one that always made Brooklyn's heart skip a beat...and nestled against him.  Brooklyn's eyes half closed, and the two young lovers lay there, dreamily snoozing, resting blissfully in each others arms.

        "I said ye'd better be hopin' I doesn't find no snowballs, Uncle Brook."  Whitbourne repeated, but Delilah shushed him, putting one finger to his lips.
        "I don't think he's listening."  she smiled, looking over to where Brooklyn and Carbonear lay on the couch.
        "That's sweet."  Ophelia whispered.   Lexington and Whitbourne looked at each other, and grinned.

********************************************************************************************

        An hour and a half later, the patrolling gargoyles returned.  Broadway came in looking miserable, covered in what looked like garbage.  Hudson and Bonavista were killing themselves laughing at the very sight of him.
        "What happened?"  Lexington asked as he, Delilah, Whitbourne and Ophelia met them at the door.  Bronx gave a little woof, sniffed him, and walked away.
        "I don't want to talk about it."  Broadway snapped.  He spun around furiously, to where Bonavista and Hudson were roaring laughter.
        "Go on, lad.  Tell 'em...tell..."  Hudson gasped, and then brayed laughter again.
        "Oh, piss off."  Broadway swore, and he stomped away to go have a shower.
        "What happened?"  Delilah asked.
        Angela smiled.  "We were on patrol, on a rooftop, and he fell off the roof and landed in a dumpster."
        "Just slipped on a patch of ice and down he went."  Bonavista hooted.  "Too surprised to even open his wings or anythin'.   Just plop into a pile of garbage.  It was the funniest thing I seen all night."
        "It was just a little two storey building, so he never got hurt."  Angela smiled.  "I'd better go see how he is.  You clowns hurt his feelings."
        "We couldn't of hurt much more; he didn't have any dignity left to injure."  Bonavista laughed, and he and Hudson burst out roaring yet again.
        Goliath shook his head, chuckling.  He walked away, down the hall, towards the library.  He passed by the games room, and peeked in upon seeing the TV on.  He stepped inside, and found Brooklyn and Carbonear lying on the couch together.  They were both fast asleep....Brooklyn was snoring lightly, and Carbonear was resting comfortably in his arms.  Goliath smiled, and shut off the TV for them, leaving them as they were.
        He walked into the library, finding Xanatos and Fox sitting up reading.
        "Good evening."  he stated, walking in.
        "Hello, Goliath."  Xanatos greeted.  Fox looked up, smiled, and went back to her book.  Goliath walked towards the bookshelves, perused the selections, and finally chose one.  "The Selected Works of Fredrich Nietzsche" the cover read, and he opened it up, intrigued.  Settling down on a stool, he began to read.
        After what seemed like hours, he was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.  He looked up.  "Elisa!" he cried happily.   "I thought you had said you were busy all night?"
        "Captain Chavez is switching Matt and I over to day shift for a while."  she reported.  "She let me off early...and since I felt awful for standing you up..."
        She smiled, and walked over to him.  Goliath set his book aside, and kissed her.
        "Why are you and Matt on day shift?" he asked.
        "We're investigating the bombing.  Captain Chavez got two FBI agents out to help us out, and since they aren't nocturnal, we have to go days.  I'll still be able to come over, though.  Oh, and Captain Chavez wanted me to ask you guys if you'd give us a hand lookin' for suspicious goings on at night."  She sighed.  "It's starting to look like we may have a serial bomber."
        He stared at her.  "How can you tell?"
        "The bombing at NBC and at the abortion clinic are connected.  They were both similar explosions and there were notes left at both scenes.  Quotes from the Bible."
        Goliath frowned.  "One would think that the Bible wouldn't be a tool used by a serial bomber."
        "You'd be surprised what religion can do in the wrong hands.  It's started wars and killed a lot of people.  Religion can be a drug to certain people."  she sighed.  "Poor Matt.  Getting stuck on this four days before his wedding."  She smiled.    "I hear you're getting all decked out for that one."
        Goliath rolled his eyes.  "Tuxedos.  I don't care if they're getting altered for gargoyles or not, I'm still going to be uncomfortable..."
        "I think you'll look awfully attractive in a tuxedo."  Elisa grinned.  Goliath stopped in midsentence, and a slow blush overcame his face.
        She laughed, and gave him a kiss  on the cheek.  "I'd better go home...I've been working all day and I want to get some sleep.  I'll be over tomorrow."
        "I'll be waiting."  Goliath smiled.
        She smiled again.  He took her hand, kissed it.  "Good night, my sweet Elisa."  he stated.
        "You too."  she whispered back.

*********************************************************************************************

Castle Wyvern
February 16, 1998
7:25 a.m., EST

        The rest of the night went by uneventfully.  Broadway eventually got over his shame, and by the time the gargoyles were congregating on the parapets to meet the day, he was actually laughing about it.   His misadventure and the pool game were the two greatest topics of conversation...Lexington and Delilah had taken on Whitbourne and Ophelia, and had won handily.  While Lexington bragged about his winning streak ("Look, guys, I'm sorry, but I can't help it if I'm the best," he claimed.  It took Ophelia, who whispered something into his ear that made him smile widely, to shut him up.) the rest of the clan hopped on to their perches, a few shivering with the cold.  It would be a very chilly day.
        Whitbourne frowned, and lit up another cigarette.  He took a drag, still shivering.  Delilah looked at him, and sighed.
        "What's that look fer?"  he asked.
        "Nothing."  Delilah stated.  "I just wish you wouldn't do that."
        "What's that?  Smokin'?"  Whitbourne frowned, looking at his cigarette.    "They's addictive, you know..."
        "I understand that, it's just..."
        Whitbourne looked at his cigarette, up at her, and back to the cigarette.   "Fine."  he stated, dropping it on the ground and stamping it out.  "I quit."
        Bonavista, who was standing nearby, gave a derisive little snort and looked the other way.  "Like we hasn't ever heard that tune before..." he muttered.
        Delilah stared at him in a state of shock.  "Just like that?"
        "Uh huh.  Just like that.  Just for ye."  he stated.  He took out his package of cigarettes, and tossed them over to Bonavista.  "If Carbonear can be after quittin' smokin' for Brooklyn, I can do it for ye, me girl."
        "Tomorrow night when ye's havin' a nicky fit, ye ain't gettin' these back, Witless."  Bonavista advised him.  Whitbourne stuck his tongue out at him, and faced the east.
        The sun rose, and the gargoyles turned to stone.  The sky continued to lighten, the day crisp and clear.

********************************************************************************************
********************************************************************************************
********************************************************************************************

Chapter One

                Moments Like This

Columbia University
10:27 a.m., EST

        Kennedy Woodworth and Laine McKinnon were just barely on time.  Her car hadn't been able to start this morning; last night's cold snap had taken it's toll on the oil, so the two intrepid students just barely made it in on time for class.  They grabbed their seats in the lecture hall, each taking out their books.
        "If this doesn't top it off, I don't know what does."  Kennedy muttered sourly.   "Can't get the car started, and then have to come in and listen to The Weirdo babble on about reaction kinetics."
        "Speak of the devil, here comes The Weirdo now."  Laine smiled.
        "The way this guy goes on about God, I wouldn't think calling him a devil'd quite suit him."  Kennedy blinked, watching as Dr. Charles Bell, Professor of Physical Chemistry, walked down and sat down at his desk.  He made the sign of the cross...he always seemed to do that before he took out his notes...and then looked at the class.
        "All right, let's get started."  Bell stated.  "As you all are no doubt aware, spring break is coming up.  I just want to remind you that there is a major test worth 20% of your final mark the week after we get back.  I suggest you use the time wisely."
        "Speaking of using your time wisely, you goin' out tonight?"  Laine asked quietly.  Kennedy nodded, deciding not to so much look at The Weirdo.  There was something about him that really gave her the creeps.  One time she had had to go up to his office for a little extra help, and she had swore to never do it again.  He had been up there muttering to himself, praying the Rosary, and while Kennedy personally didn't find anything wrong with religion, there was just something about the way he was praying.  It seemed a bit too zealous.
        "Bonnie called last night.  They're goin' over to the Rockaway, so I think I'll meet them there."  she stated.  She started taking notes, but her attention wasn't really on chemistry this morning.  "Plus tomorrow night I'm goin' over to the castle to study for this, cause Tuesday nights the guys in the apartment next to me all get together to watch the hockey game.  It's too noisy."
        The troubles that Bonavista and Kennedy had been having in November had long since been forgotten.  While part of her had been surprised that Bonavista might have thought he was hitting on her, she was still glad that the mess had been cleared up and they were friends again.
        She sat there, half in a dazed state, occasionally shuddering as Dr. Bell mumbled to himself.

******************************************************************************************

John F. Kennedy International Airport
12:02 p.m., EST

        "Delta Airlines flight 742, Washington D.C. to New York City, now arriving at gate 42."  the P.A. blared.  Elisa and Matt stood up, ready to greet the two federal agents  as they stepped off the plane.  The steady stream of business travellers flowed out of the gate for a few minutes, until two people...a tall, rather handsome blond man and a woman with brown hair stepped out of the gate.  They looked over towards the two detectives, talked to each other for a second, and then walked over.
        "Hi."  Elisa greeted.  "Welcome to New York."
        "Pleasure to be here."  the man smiled.  "You'll have to excuse me.  The stewardess spilled coffee on my pants on the flight."
        "He'll say that, but really he's just clumsy."  the woman grinned.  She extended her hand, which Elisa shook.  "Agent Andrea Scully, and this is my partner, Darcy Lockyer.  Before we get started, I would just like to tell you not to bother with any X-Files jokes, as I have heard them all before anyway, so we'd just be wasting our time."
        "So much for an interesting one liner to start things off."  Matt grinned.  "I'm Matt Bluestone and this is MY partner, Elisa Maza."

        "Hi."   Lockyer grinned, setting his suitcase down.  "Pity this isn't a pleasure trip, but I guess we'd better get down to business, huh?"
        "I'd personally be more inclined to do that over a coffee."  Scully stated, reaching for her purse.  "Why don't we go sit down?"
        Elisa and Matt looked at each other, and shrugged.  The two FBI agents were extremely likeable, and they both found themselves thinking that maybe the enforced partnership might not be so bad after all.

********************************************************************************************

        "Didn't you used to be FBI?" Lockyer asked, stirring in a bit of sugar into his coffee.  The four of them were sitting in the airport concourse lounge, getting a little more acquainted.
        "Uh huh."  Matt nodded.  "I got drummed out for defying protocol a bit too often."
        "That's not what the record says."  Scully blinked.
        "I know.  I did have a few friends in the higher echelons of the bureau, and they decided not to list that I basically got canned."  Matt sighed.  "But that's all right...I'm pretty happy with where I am now."
        "So tell us a little bit about yourself, Detective Maza."  Scully switched the conversation.
        "Professional or personal?"  Elisa smiled.
        "Whatever you'd like."  Scully chuckled.
        "I've been with the NYPD now for almost nine years."  she stated.  "Dad was a cop, mother was a legal clerk, I was born on New Year's Eve, I played basketball in high school, and I can't make coffee to save my life."  she stated.  "Not really that much else to tell, unless you'd like me to go home and get the baby pictures..."
        Scully laughed.  "This assignment might not be so bad."  she grinned.  "Other than the reason for it, which we really should get down to."  She looked at her watch.
        "How much do you know?"  Elisa asked, pulling out a file from her kitbag.
        "Probably not much more than you do."  Lockyer shrugged.  "Two bombings in one week; one an abortion clinic, the other a media network.  No connections."
        "There is one."  Elisa  corrected, opening the file.  She took out the photocopies of the notes.  "These were found at the scenes.  This one at WomanCare, this one at NBC. Neither of them showed any signs of scorching or damage, so we can assume these were placed in the wreckage after the blast.  No fingerprints that weren't too smudged to identify, but the handwriting is nearly identical."
        "Hmm."  Scully frowned, taking a look.  "They look pretty much the same, all right.  Sounds like you've got a religious bomber."
        "If it's at all possible, we'd like to go to the bombing sites and have a look around."  Lockyer asked.
        "They've mostly been cleaned up."  Matt stated.  "But yeah, that'd be all right."
        "I guess that about does it for the pleasantries, huh."  Scully sighed.
        "It's always the way."  Elisa agreed.  She grinned.  "Come on.  My car's outside."

****************************************************************************************

Mildred's Place
12:30  p.m., EST

        The small diner wasn't perhaps ever going to win a Golden Fork award, but in the eyes of it's patrons, Mildred's Place had the best damn sandwiches money could buy.  This might not have been entirely true, but the food there was admittedly good.
        It wasn't the food that interested the two men sitting at the far corner, though.  They picked away at their lunches, not paying much attention to the rest of the world.
        "Everything's set."  the small man in the glasses stated.  "Brother Charles said that the next target was going to be a brothel in Brooklyn."
        The other man, who was decidedly taller, stouter and balding, shuddered.   "The whores of Babylon."  he whispered, his expression dripping with hatred.  "But Brother Michael...you know that the police will be stepping up their search for us."
        "Brother Peter, that's always been a risk.  But we're doing God's work; He won't let them stop us.  Not when we're purging the city of the heathens and the damned."  He smiled.  "We have more than enough material to send a powerful message to the city this time.  What about that police woman you saw investigating the scene at the last one?  Did you deliver her message?"
        Brother Peter nodded.  "Excellent."  Brother Michael smiled.  "I'm sure Brother Charles will be most pleased."

******************************************************************************************

23rd Precinct Office
2:11 p.m., EST

        "Forensics says that it's very similar.  Both bombs used ammonium nitrate, in combination with a few other chemicals."  Matt stated, flipping through forensics' report and handing it to the two agents."
        "I can see that."  Lockyer frowned.
        "I think we should look at the original copies of those notes."  Scully said.   "See what we can determine from them."

        "I doubt you'll get that much.  We tried a fingerprint analysis, and it was all smudged.  Nothing identifiable."  Elisa stated.  "I'm gonna go get some coffee.  Excuse me."
        She got up, and headed over to her desk, looking rather fatigued.  They had just returned from visiting the two crime scenes, which had been pretty tiring.  Regardless of how much she personally liked the two FBI agents, their idea of investigation involved an awful lot of critical thinking, and that was enough to make anyone tired.
        As she passed by her desk, she noticed the envelope simply marked "Detective" on her desk.  Frowning, she picked it up and opened it.  Inside was a single sheet of paper.

        Detective,

                Quarite prime Regnum Dei.

        "What?" she blinked.  "Who left this here?"
        "Some guy left that on your desk a couple of hours ago."  Officer Morgan called over.  "Why?"
        "It's nothing, John.  Uh...what did he look like?"
        Morgan thought for a second.  "Never really got a good look."  he mused.  "He was short and kind of bald, that's all I remember."
        She looked at the note, and walked back over to the desk.
        "What's that?"  Matt asked.
        "Something I found on my desk."  she blinked.  She showed them the note.
        "What does it mean?"  Scully blinked.
        "Regnum Dei..."  Matt blinked.  "Something about that..."
        He blinked, and went over to his desk.  He started rooting through reports, and hauled out one.  "A couple of months ago, there was a bit of hate literature surfacing around."  he stated.  "The pamphlets were printed by a group calling themselves Regnum Dei.  It's Latin for 'The Kingdom of God'.  All the literature focused venomous attacks on groups that were seen as enemies of Christianity."
        "Do you think maybe they've switched from hate literature to bombings?"  Lockyer frowned.
        "Maybe."  Elisa replied.  "But more importantly, somebody left that on my desk, and the odds are that if Regnum Dei is the group doing the bombings, it was either someone who knows who exactly they are or someone who's involved in it.  I want to know who left that there."
        The group looked at each other, and they all simultaneously got up from their chairs.

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The Rockaway Nightclub
8:42 p.m., EST

        The joint was jumpin', as always.  It wasn't as crowded as usual...supposedly, there was a bit of flu going around the area, but there wasn't any shortage of customers.  The band on stage was wailin', the drinks were pouring like water and of course, the gargoyles were having a wicked time.
        Kennedy and Bonavista were sitting down, having a drink, laughing it up.  Broadway, Angela, Whitbourne, and Delilah were out on the floor dancing, while Lexington and Ophelia were playing darts in the games room.  Brooklyn and Carbonear were sitting down at the table, too, generally having a good time.
        "Can I get you anything?'  Brooklyn asked, fishing into the pocket of his track suit for his money.   "I'm gonna head up and get a beer or something."
        "Yeah, get us one too, my son."  Carbonear smiled.  "I'll save ye a dance for when ye gets back."
        Brooklyn grinned, and went over to the bar.  Frank Ester, the bartender, was very busy getting drinks set up to go, and there was a bit of a lineup.  Brooklyn settled in to wait, contenting himself with watching the band on stage.

        "I'm up in the kitchen singin', while mama's out in the backyard,
         Daddy's downstairs diggin' a grave,
         Oh, I'm up to my neck, oh my lord, mama's workin' too hard,
         Daddy isn't getting paid..."
 
        "Help you, kind sir?"  Frank smiled, turning to him.  Brooklyn spun around, and laid his money on the counter.
        "Two Molson's."  he ordered.  "So what are you up to, Frank?  Working hard?"
        "Hardly working."  Frank replied, pouring the drinks.  "This place is never as busy during the winter, but I guess things are doin' all right.  How 'bout you?  How's that woman of yours?"
        "She's fine, Frank."  Brooklyn grinned.  "She's over there at the table, waitin' for me.  One of these is for her."
        "Well, I suggest you get over there and give her a little company.  That's a sin, leavin' a pretty girl like that all by her lonesome."  Frank chuckled.  He set the drinks on the counter.  "See ya."
        "Bye, Frank."  Brooklyn chuckled.  He took the drinks and walked back over to his table.  Setting one down in front of Carbonear, he took his seat.
        "Thanks!"  she grinned, taking a drink.  "What an excellent waiter ye'd make, my son."
        "I hear the tips are pretty good."  Brooklyn mused, and he laughed.  "I seem to recall you promising you'd save me a dance."
        "So I did."  Carbonear recalled.  "But I don't remember me sayin' it'd be tonight..."
        Brooklyn began to mockingly pout.  Carbonear laughed, and got up.  He followed, and the two gargoyles began to dance.
        "We have to be back at the castle for eleven for patrol."  Brooklyn reminded her.
        "Yeah."  she sighed.  "Well, I doubt that the muggers and all them'll be busy tonight.  We probably won't be out too long, right?"
        She gave him a pleading look, and he laughed.  "Don't think that just cause you're dating the second in command of the clan, you get to influence the decisions."
        "I doesn't think, I knows."  Carbonear raised an eye ridge.  "Why is it that every time I mentions that it's cold out, ye makes sure that I gets patrol on the less windy side of the city?"
        "Just because."  Brooklyn covered, and Carbonear threw her head back and laughed.
        "You're hardly corruptable, now, are ye."  she teased.
        "It's you.  You're just so hard to please."  Brooklyn retorted.  He looked around.   "I just had a really crazy idea."
        "What's that?"
        "After we finish our drinks, do you want to go away for a bit?  I was thinkin' down to the harbourfront."
        "It'll be cold."  she warned.
        "I'm not that much of a baby.  The others know they have to be back, too, so we don't have to supervise them.  I'll just tell them where we're off to."  He paused.  "Besides, it'll give us a chance to be alone for a bit."
        "Well, you've made a pretty convincing case."  Carbonear admitted.  "You won me over, Brooklyn.  Let's do 'er."
        "Okay."  he smiled.  They went to finish their drinks, and then Brooklyn went over to tell Broadway where they were going.  He reminded everyone on patrol that night to be back by eleven, and then he returned.
        "Ready to go?"  he asked.
        "I should say so, my son."  Carbonear smiled.

********************************************************************************************

        Even though Whitbourne and Delilah were both having a wicked time...both thought that the band was pretty good, and the very fact that they were dancing together was enough to make them have fun...Delilah wasn't above noticing that he looked a bit tense.  By the time he looked over at one of the tables, staring longingly at the cigarette one person was smoking, she had figured out why.
        "Whit, are you all right?"  she asked.
        "Yeah."  he muttered.  "It's just that I kinda wishes I could have a smoke.  I'se all right, though."
        "I never told you you had to quit."  she reminded him.  "Just because I don't like you smoking doesn't mean that I'll be mad at you if you do."
        "I knows, me girl.  But ye was right 'bout it...it's a filthy, disgusting habit, and I'se better off not doin' it."  Whitbourne stated.  He smiled and kissed her.   " 'Sides, I can't imagine ye liked the taste of smoke when ye was after kissin' me."
        She  looked at him concernedly.  "Don't worry, Dee, I'll be fine."  Whitbourne reassured her.  "You just watch, I'll beat this."

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Bambi's Massage Parlor
9:02 p.m., EST

        "That's deplorable."  Brother Clarence whispered, watching as a man entered the building.  All the shades were drawn, but the silhouettes indicated that something racy was going on inside the room.
        "They're hellbound.  What more would you expect?"  Brother Charles stated.  He picked up a dark, shadowy object, and a few explosive charges.  "Quickly.  Let's purge this sin."
        The five men carefully crept out of the bushes, and got to work.  It only took five minutes to set up the bomb, and another three to get the timer set.  As it counted down from five minutes, the five men raced back into the bushes, far away from where the blast would be.  They joined hands once safely out of sight.
        "Our Father..." Brother Charles began, "who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name..."
        The timer clicked down to two minutes.
        "...thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory..."  They were all chanting now.
        One minute.
        "...Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world..."
        Twenty seconds.
        "We offer this up unto thee, oh Lord..."
        Three, two, one.
        There was suddenly a tremendous explosion, and the massage parlour blew apart with a glow of holy, purging flame.
        Once the explosion had subsided, Brother Peter, wearing gloves, raced out and placed a single piece of paper in the rubble.

        "Do you not see that your bodies are members of Christ? Would you have me take           Christ's members and make them the members of a prostitute? God forbid! Can you not    see that the man who is joined to a prostitute becomes one body with her? Scripture             says 'the two will become flesh'. "
        1 Corinthians 6:15-16

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Castle Wyvern
9:20 p.m., EST

        "It's really weird."  Elisa muttered.  "I mean, all the people there, and nobody got a good look at him.  Not one enough to sketch a composite, anyway.  Plus if this guy is the one who's bombing these places, the idea that he singled me out isn't all that attractive, either."
        After the incident with the note, she, Matt, Scully and Lockyer had searched the entire building, and asked every single person about the man who had put the note on her desk.  No leads had been turned up, and he had obviously left the building a very long time ago.  After that, the entire group had read the Regnum Dei report, focusing their investigation on that for now.  Now that the day was over, though, she had come up to Castle Wyvern to share her day with Goliath.
        Goliath sighed, and held her close.  "I want you to promise me that you'll be very careful."  he stated, looking her in the eyes.  "There's..."
        Suddenly, there was a beep.  Elisa blinked, and took out her pager.  "It's Matt."  she frowned.   "Where's the nearest phone?"
        "In the library."  Goliath frowned.  He and Elisa headed out of the room, and towards the library.  Elisa picked up the phone and dialed Matt's number.
        "Hello, Matt?  You just paged me...WHAT?  Oh my God...was anybody hurt?...oh, Lord.  My God.  Matt, I'll be right down."  She hung up the phone, and closed her eyes.
        "There was just another explosion."  she stated.  "They think it might have been a bomb."
        "Was anybody hurt?"
        "Five people were killed."  She opened her eyes.  "It was a massage parlour.  It sounds like the sort of target a religious group might attack.  I think I'd better get down there."
        "I'll go with you."  Goliath stated.

*********************************************************************************************
 

The Harbourfront
9:31 p.m., EST

        Carbonear had been right...it was colder.  Brooklyn was grateful he had been wearing the track suit; it may not have been the best shield in the world from the windchill, but it was good enough.  There wasn't all that much of a wind tonight, so it wasn't as bad as it might otherwise have been.
        The ice in the harbour was sparse...Carbonear fondly thought back to her childhood in St. John's, where sometimes the ice in the ports had been thick enough to drive on.  She supposed it was just as well it wasn't cold enough for that, though...beautiful as it might have been, it wouldn't have been condusive to a prolonged time outside, which was just what Carbonear and Brooklyn wanted.
        "It's a lot quieter than the Rockaway, at least."  Brooklyn noted, shivering a little in the chilled February air.  His breath puffed out in little clouds of frost as he spoke.
        "That's just fine with me, my son."  Carbonear smiled.  The two gargoyles were on the same jetty as they had been almost a year ago, on their date.  Carbonear looked at one particuar spot with interest...it had been there that Brooklyn had given his first real indication that perhaps someday he might love her...
        She blinked, and looked at him.  He was standing there, looking out at the water.   Two days ago...Valentine's Day...had been the first anniversary of his suicide attempt.  They hadn't celebrated.  That night, Brooklyn had been a little quieter and more somber than usual, but nobody else brought it up.  It was a very sensitive issue...even though practically every member of the clan stayed their distance from the bathroom in which Brooklyn had tried to take his life, it was never brought up in conversation anymore.
        Just thinking about it made her shiver.  She slipped her hand into his, and gave it a squeeze.
        "Look at it."  Brooklyn whispered, looking out over the horizon.  Towards the east was, of course, Long Island, and off to the south was Staten Island...but in between was the endless expanse of the  Atlantic Ocean.  Even now, blackened by night, it was still awe-inspiring.
        "Still holdin' ye enthralled after all these years."  Carbonear smiled.
        He looked at her, smiled, and started to softly caress her face.  Carbonear closed her eyes, and their lips brushed together. The kiss lasted for what seemed like forever, and it was broken only by the sound of a bit of ice cracking out on the harbour.
        "I don't care how cold it is.  I want to stay here all night with you."   Brooklyn murmured.
        "I wish we could."  Carbonear stated, looking up into his eyes.  "God, how I wish we could."
        They sat down on the edge of the jetty, brushing away a bit of the snow on the wooden guardrail.  Carbonear rested her head on his shoulder, and he almost protectively draped his wing around her.
        "Maybe this ain't the best time to be askin' ye this, what with how it's so close to...you know...but does ye still think about Hawthorne on nights like this, when ye's with me?"  Carbonear asked in a small voice.
        "A little, yeah."  Brooklyn admitted.  "But...well, I dunno.  I'll always love her, but I guess the way I love her has changed.  It's more of a respect kind of love now.  But yeah, I think about her.  Especially on Valentine's Day...I thought about her a lot then."
        He looked at her.  "But I think about you all the time too, you know..."
        She smiled.  "That feelin' can safely be called mutual, Brooklyn."
        He sighed contentedly.  "Even though the physical side of our relationship is a bit slow, I'm okay with that."
        "Slow?"
        "Well, not that I want it to move any faster.   The way things are going now is just absolutely perfect, Carb."  He blushed.  "I actually get kinda nervous thinking about things like...you know, like sex..."
        She chuckled.  "That's actually kind of refreshing.  The way Witless and Bonnie always talked about sex when we was kids kind of sickened me.  How does ye mean shy?"
        "Well..."  he took on a mildly pained look.  "What I mean is...I mean...okay, listen.   I mean that as far as you and I have gone is as far as I've ever gone.  Sometimes I get nervous about that too."
        Carbonear's face fell.  "I wish I could say the same.  Brooklyn, I ain't a virgin."
        "I know.  Whitbourne told me about you and him back when you were younger."

        Her eyes bolted open wide.  "What?"
        "He wasn't bragging or anything...it was actually the night Lexington started becoming autistic.  We were making breakfast and it kind of slipped out of him."
        "Oh."  Carbonear blinked.  "That don't bother ye, does it?"
        "What?"  Brooklyn laughed.  "Why would that bother me?  You know that I love you, Carb, and that isn't gonna change just because of something you did before we even met."
        She actually looked a bit relieved.
        "It kinda bothers me though in that...well, in that you're more experienced in that sort of thing than I am, so when it does happen between us..."
        Carbonear looked at him, mildly amazed.
        "...then I'll be kind of worried that I won't be...you know...as...good."  His voice got progressively softer.
        "Ye's worried about pleasin' me."  Carbonear stated.  Brooklyn hesistated, and shyly nodded yes.
        "Brooklyn...well, first of all, it won't take much to match Witless.  He didn't happen to mention that it took him twenty friggin' minutes to get it up when he was with me, did he?"
        Brooklyn started to laugh, and shook his head.  Carbonear laughed with him, and then looked deep into his hazel brown eyes.  "Brook...when it does happen between us, it'll be special in it's own right.  Ye can't compare things as intimate as that, or else it wouldn't be after bein' as special as it is."
        He smiled, and ran his hands through her hair again.  "I was just a little worried."
        "Well, don't be, my son.  Besides, I'm not in love with you just because of your physical attributes."  She touched his chest, right over his heart.   "It's what's in there that I fell in love with, Brooklyn, and it's what's in there that I'll always be after lovin'.  If we ever do go farther than the makin' out we does right now, then that would be grand, but that ain't the be-all and the end-all of what we's got."
        "Would you be ready to?"  Brooklyn asked.  "If we did..."
        She smiled, and nodded.  "I am, yeah.  But all it'd be would be a physical expression of the love we's got for each other.  Not something that I'd compare to something I've done before.  What about you?  Is ye ready?"
        "I don't know."  Brooklyn frowned.  "I'd like to think I am...I mean, I've loved you now for almost four months, and I know you're the one I'm spending my life with...that is all right with you, right?"
        He grinned, and Carbonear chuckled.  "I dunno...I'd better check first."  she joked.
        Brooklyn shook his head, still grinning.  "I really don't know."
        "Well, whenever we's ready, we's ready."  Carbonear stated.  "Does that set your mind at ease?"
        "Yeah."  Brooklyn admitted.  He held her close.  "Just a friendly reminder," he began, "that I love you with all my heart, milady."  He drew her in for a kiss, revelling in her gentle, soft beauty.  She kissed back, and soon the two lovers were sitting there, tails, wings and arms intertwined, with the rest of the world a million miles away.

*******************************************************************************************

Bambi's Massage Parlour
10:01 p.m., EST

        With a swoop of wings, Goliath veered down towards the wreckage of the massage parlor.  There were police everywhere, as well as fire trucks and ambulances.  He shuddered at the site of a yellow sheet draped over a form on a stretcher...from the fact that the ambulance attendants were in no hurry to stabilize the person's condition or rush them to a hospital, Goliath pretty much figured out that the person beneath that sheet had been killed in the explosion.
        "There's Matt and the others."  Elisa pointed out.
        "Do you want me to land out of sight?"  Goliath asked, looking at her from where she was being carried in his arms.
        "Yeah.  I never told Scully and Lockyer about you guys yet, and this isn't the way I want to break it to them.  Stay in the shadows for now."  Goliath nodded, and landed near the darker part of the lot.  Elisa thanked him, got out of his arms, and hurried towards the scene.
        "What happened?"  she asked, running over to where Matt Bluestone, Andrea Scully and Darcy Lockyer were.
        Lockyer blinked.  "Where did you come from?"  he asked.
        "I'm parked on the other side."  she lied.  Matt shot her a glance, but she ignored it.
        Scully sighed.  "We just got called ourselves.  They guess there was a bomb planted here...traces of fertilizer, fragments of the pipe bomb itself, and another note."  She handed Elisa the note, enclosed in a plastic baggie.  Elisa read it, and sighed.
        "Yeah, that's our man all right."  she groaned.  "Any witnesses?"
        "Nobody saw anything."  Matt stated, looking at his watch.  "Cornelia's gonna be worried sick."
        "Cornelia?"  Scully asked.  "Who's that?"
        "My fiance.  We're getting married on Thursday."
        "Oh."  Scully stated.  "Well, this doesn't quite seem like the atmosphere to offer congratulations, so forgive me if I wait till later."  She sighed, and began to head off into the rubble.  Lockyer went to join her.
        "Goliath here?"  Matt asked as soon as the agents had gone.  Elisa nodded, and pointed towards the shadows.  The two detectives headed towards the spot where the gargoyle stood.
        "It was the bomber."  Elisa stated.  She showed him the note.  "We've been finding these kinds of notes in the rubble of the other explosions, so that kind of gives it away."
        Goliath read the note, and frowned.  He grunted, and handed it back to her.  "I don't know how we can really help you with this.  We'll do our best, however."
        "Well, that's..."  Elisa began, but then  Scully walked around the corner, and gasped.  She pulled her gun the second she saw Goliath.
        "Freeze!  FBI!" she yelled.  Lockyer came around, pulling his gun as well.  Goliath crossed his arms and looked heavenward in irate annoyance.
        "Put your guns down.  He's a friend."  Elisa groaned.  Scully and Lockyer looked at her, amazed.

        "She's right."  Goliath stated quietly.  He offered his hand.  "My name is Goliath."
        The two FBI agents looked at each other.  Lockyer slowly lowered his gun, and shook the gargoyle's hand.  "Darcy Lockyer.  Uh, this is my partner, Andrea Scully."
        "Um...nice to meet you."  Scully smiled, slowly offereing her own hand.
        It took a few minutes, but the two agents gradually began to feel more at ease with the huge gargoyle.  It turned out that neither agent had a problem with gargoyles generally; their reaction had been spurred on by surprise, stress from the bombing, and the fact that they had never met a gargoyle face to face before.  Goliath made it very clear that he didn't intend to hurt them, that he, Elisa and Matt were friends, and that he was trying to help out with the investigation.  Once the understandable awkwardness was out of the way, everything was fine.
        "The lab boys found a few fragments of the bomb."  Scully reported.  "Nothing concrete yet, but it looks a lot like the other bombs.   With that plus the note, I think we can safely say it was all the same guy."
        "The local precinct head's going to fax us the reports on it tomorrow morning."  Lockyer frowned.  He yawned.
        "We've all had a long day."  Elisa sighed.  "Let's go home.  We'll start pieceing this all together again tomorrow."
        Unanimous nods.  Scully and Lockyer shot a few glances at Goliath.  "Uh...good night."  Scully stammered, unsure of what to say.
        Goliath nodded, faintly amused.  "Good night, Ms. Scully."  The two agents headed back towards their rental car, talking amongst themselves.
        "See you tomorrow, Elisa."  Matt stated.  "G'night, Goliath."  He walked back to his own  car, heading to his apartment to be with Cornelia.
        "The clan will be going on patrol shortly."  Goliath said.  "I'll instruct them to keep an eye out for anything that might be connected to...to this."  He pointed at the ruins of the massage parlour.  The ambulances and paramedics had left, leaving only the police.
        "This is starting to get out of hand."  Elisa sighed.  "Six people dead.  Who knows what's going to be next?"
        "We'll catch whoever's responsible."  Goliath asserted.
        "I hope so, Goliath."  Elisa stated, picking up a piece of concrete that had once been part of the building's foundation.  "I really, really hope so."

*********************************************************************************************
*********************************************************************************************
*********************************************************************************************

Chapter Two

                It Could Happen To You

Canal Street
11:37 p.m., EST

        An hour later, the patrols had begun.  Once the younger gargoyles had returned from the Rockaway (or the harbour, in Carbonear and Brooklyn's cases) they had immediately been conscripted into patrol.  They were told of the newest development in the serial bomber, and had been told to keep an eye out for suspicious goings on.
        Brooklyn and Lexington were patrolling the entire southern section of Manhattan.  It was getting colder...Whitbourne had donned heavier clothes before leaving on his patrol, and both Brooklyn and Lexington were wishing they had at least left their Rockaway clothes on.

        "This bombing stuff is startin' to get out of hand."  Lexington frowned, as they glided over Canal Street.  "Two in two days..."
        "I know."  Brooklyn concurred.  "I mean, it's nice that for once the madmen in the city aren't after us, but still...six people killed..."
        "Sad, isn't it."  Lexington sighed.  "I don't see how we can prevent any of it, though..."
        "Maybe we'll catch the guy."  Brooklyn thought.  "Of course, the only way to do that is if there's another bombing."
        There were a few minutes of silence after that.  They headed northward, doing quick sweeps over known trouble areas just in case there were other goings-on besides religious bombings.
        "So where did you and Carb skip off to?"  Lexington asked suddenly, deciding to change the subject.
        "Down to the harbour."  Brooklyn replied absently.
        "Must have been cold."
        "It was."  Brooklyn smiled.  Lexington raised an eye ridge.
        "You've got that smile on you."  he noted casually.  Brooklyn looked at him quizzically.  "You know, the smile you've always got when you and Carb do something special together.  So what were you up to down there?"
        "Just talking."  Brooklyn stated.  "That's all."
        "Well, that's fine.  Sometimes me and Ophelia just sit and talk."  Lexington replied.  "I dunno...ever since the thing with J.D. I'm a lot more patient.  It's like I appreciate life a bit more."
        "I'm not surprised."  Brooklyn stated. "For a while we were convinced that you were gonna be like that for the rest of your life."
        "What about you, though?  It's probably none of my business, but how are you and Carb getting along?"  Lexington asked.  Brooklyn smiled, recalling what Broadway had told him about Lexington's nosiness last June.
        "We're doing just fine, Lex."  Brooklyn mumbled, his smile becoming a little bit dreamy.   "Tonight we were talking about...you know, the physical side of things...and even though we haven't come as far as Goliath and Elisa or Whitbourne and Delilah..."
        "You're pullin' a Broadway.  I don't think he and Angela have moved ahead any."
        "Well, he was telling me the other week that he was starting to feel a little bit more comfortable with getting intimate with her."  Brooklyn stated.  "Maybe.  But I'm not as insecure as Broadway.   I'm a little nervous, but I think if things go along that far, I think I'll be able to."
        "You're a lucky man, Brooklyn."  Lexington smiled.  "Ophelia and I are going slow, too, but I'm fine with that.  I waited a year for her to admit she loved me, so the least I can do is wait until we're both ready for...you know."
        "Uh huh."  Brooklyn smiled.

********************************************************************************************

Wall Street
11:42 p.m.

        "So, like I was after tellin' him, whenever he's ready is whenever we would."  Carbonear sighed contentedly.  "No pressure.  I mean, frigg, I wants to and all, but if it takes him a while, then I could be after livin' with that.  I knows for a fact he loves me, so there ain't no worries there.  Physical intimacy is somethin' I really looks forward to, but..."
        Delilah nodded.  She and Carbonear were having a discussion over patrol very similar to the one Brooklyn and Lexington were having, although they had no way of knowing that. All was quiet on the Wall Street front as well...the streets were fairly quiet and there was no sign of anything suspicious happening.
        "Well, I'm not saying you have to right away, Carb...but making love to somebody you know loves you is just..."
        She sighed.   "Whitbourne and I are very intimate.  Whenever we do make love, it's made all the more stronger by the fact we know how much we love each other."
        "I knows."  Carbonear smiled.  "There's no doubt in my mind that it'll be special when Brooklyn and I goes at 'er, and I know we're both just about ready to make that step..."
        "Maybe you should."  Delilah grinned.  "In the midst of all the craziness going on in the city right now, it might be nice to have something as special as love going on."
        "Maybe."  Carbonear thought.  "How would I go about it, though?  I can't be after just out of the blue askin' him, me girl."
        Delilah's grin became almost nasty.  "Seduce him."  she whispered.
        Carbonear felt her cheeks flame, but there was getting to be a certain delicious attraction.
        "I've seen some of the more personal clothes you have, Carb, and Whitbourne told me once that Brooklyn told him he kind of fantasizes about those."  Delilah stated in a low voice.  "There's your advantage right there."
        "Delilah, I doesn't know..."  Carbonear stated, but her eyes were giving her away.  She supposed that it would be painfully obvious that the idea of seducing her lover was getting to be very attractive.  A smaller, more reckless part of her mind wanted to anyway, but even the part of her that admired Brooklyn for his personality and his emotions was beginning to take what she herself had told him that night into play.
        It'd be a physical expression of the love we's got for each other.
        She thought to herself for a few minutes.  "Maybe."  she said aloud.  Delilah nodded, smiling knowingly to herself.

*********************************************************************************************

Castle Wyvern
February 17, 1997
6:52 a.m., EST

        Towards the morning, once patrols had ended,  Carbonear found herself in Hawthorne's room.
        It wasn't Hawthorne's room alone, anymore...on a pedastal in the back, behind her statue, stood the Grimoire of Gaulois.  Elisa had convinced Matthias Vanderaa, the curator of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, that it would be safer in the Eyrie Building, and Xanatos further placated the man by covering the costs of the repairs for the museum during Demona's robbery attempt.  But even though the book was kept there, with a security camera perpetually trained upon it, it nowhere near matched the reverence given to the statue in the center of the room.
        As she always did, Hawthorne stood there, forever holding up Oberon's Ring and eternally smiling her enigmatic smile.  Carbonear, who had never been in here alone, was stunned by the respect her very presence commanded.
        "Hello." she stated awkwardly, looking up at the statue.  "There's somethin' I needs to tell ye."
        She cleared her throat, and even though she was alone in the room and the security cameras picked up only video, she found herself feeling somewhat embarrassed.
        "Hawthorne, I know how much you meant to Brooklyn, and even though he loves me, the very fact that I wears your old pendant still implies that he cares for ye.  Maybe not the same way, but he still loves ye in his own way.  And so...frigg, I feels silly doin' this, Hawth, but I figures that if I wants to go farther with Brooklyn...if I wants to make love to him...then I fell I owes it to ye to let ye know."
        Of course there was no response, but Carbonear suddenly had a feeling of contentment.  She took that as Hawthorne's way of saying that it was all right.
        "You're sure?"  she whispered, sounding a lot younger than she really was.  "I mean...frigg, Hawth, you just wait.  I ain't gonna take this lightly, and if we do do this, then I'se never gonna wrong him or hurt him or anything..."
        "Carb?"  came a voice, and Carbonear jumped in fright.  She spun around, and saw Brooklyn standing at the door.
        "My Jesus, bye!"  she hissed.   "Ye scared me half to death!"
        "Sorry."  Brooklyn smiled, and he walked up to her.  "I saw the door open and I heard your voice, so I was just wondering what you were doing."
        Carbonear smiled guiltily.  "I just...well, I...I don't really know." she admitted.   "I just felt like I had to work something out with her."
        "Oh."  Brooklyn smiled.  He looked up at Hawthorne's statue.  Carbonear noticed that his eyes looked slightly pained when he did so...she knew he still missed her...but all the same, he was looking at her in a different light.  He took Carbonear's hand, and looked at her.
        "We'd better go, Carb."  he stated softly.  "It's just about dawn."
        "Of course."  Carbonear replied.  They both looked at Hawthorne's statue for a moment more, and turned and walked away.  As he shut the door, he impulsively drew her into his arms and gave her a soft, tender kiss.

        "I love you, Carb."  he stated.
        She looked deep into his eyes, and an involuntary smile played upon her face.  "I love you too, Brooklyn."
        They walked down the hall, wordless, holding each other's hands.  If anyone had had any doubts as to the love the two gargoyles had for one another, they would have immediately dismissed them upon seeing Brooklyn and Carbonear head down that hall.
 

*******************************************************************************************
 

        That day, the Manhattan chapter of the National Gay and Lesbian Alliance blew up.
        The day, a crisp, clear February morning, dawned like any other.  The office opened at 8:00.  People came and went throughout the morning, some serious, some laughing.  The president of the local chapter, a very pleasant, outgoing man named Trevor MacAlpin, was sitting down in his office, writing an article to a local magazine concerning a new federal bill entrenching the fact that discrimimation based on sexual orientation was wrong in the U.S. Constitution.  Outside, people milled all over the place.  Cars drove by on the busy street, many of them not giving the building a second glance.
        At 2:14 p.m., on the seventeenth of February, in the year of Our Lord nineteen-hundred and ninety-eight, there was an explosion in the alley just next to the building.  It was the most powerful explosion yet.  The building was heavily damaged.  Pieces of brick and glass flew out into the street.  The shockwave shattered every window within a three block radius.
        Seventeen people were killed; twenty-four more were taken to hospital in critical condition.
        Amidst the ruins was found this note.

        "You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; such a thing is an abomination."
        Leviticus 18:22

*****************************************************************************************

23rd Precinct House
2:24 p.m., EST

        Since the bombing of the massage parlour, the FBI had taken action.  Now every precinct in the city had two FBI liaisons, and the Bureau was subtly dropping hints that they would take an even more active role in the investigation.
        Elisa Maza, Matt Bluestone, Andrea Scully and Darcy Lockyer were getting down to business as the phone rang.  Matt went to pick it up.  Today was to be his last day on the job...the following day was the wedding rehearsal.  In the midst of the trauma, he and Cornelia had seriously considered delaying the wedding, but they decided not to.
        While he was on the phone, the three other people in the troupe were discussing a few developments.
        "Forensics has developed a  list of all the substances in the bombs."  Elisa stated, laying a list on the desk.  "Pretty volatile stuff.  Whoever is making these really knows their chemistry."
        "I also sent a copy of the notes to the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington."  Scully reported.  "They're gonna try and get a better fingerpri..."
        "WHAT?" Matt hollered,  looking incredibly pale.  "Jesus H. Christ..."
        They all stared at him quizically.  He thanked whoever it was, got off the phone, and stumbled over towards the desk.
        "There was another bombing."  Matt stated, with his eyes closed.  "The local headquarters of the Gay and Lesbian Alliance.  Seventeen people were killed..."
        Scully looked horrified.  "No...oh, no..." she whispered.  Her fist clenched, and she started to swear.
        "Andrea..."  Lockyer stated softly.
        "Goddamnit!" she screamed, and she stood up.
        "I'm going to the crime scene." she stated coldly.  "I don't care how long it takes, but this bastard's going down."  She stalked off, pausing just long enough to get the address from a phone book.
        "What was..."  Elisa began.

        Lockyer swallowed.  "Andrea's a lesbian."  he stated.  "Any crimes directed towards homosexuals, she takes personally.  One of her friends back in Washington was killed in a gay-bashing, so..."
        "Oh, my God."  Elisa whispered.
        "We'd better go get her." Lockyer sighed.  "She's bound to be pretty upset."

******************************************************************************************

Williston Park, Long Island
6:00 p.m., EST

        Brother Charles, Brother Michael, Brother Clarence, Brother George and Brother Peter sat together in what they referred to as "The Holy Place", praying.  They made the sign of the cross, and then they unanimously looked towards Brother Charles for guidance.
        "Three messages in three days."  he stated.  "These people have gotten their message by now.  This contemporary Sodom will soon be forced to listen to our holy words."
        "Is it so wise to have these messages so soon together, Brother Charles?"  Brother George asked.
        "Yes, my disciple."  Brother Charles whispered.  The fervor was taking over his expression again.  "If we were to space the messages out, then the hellbound sinners of this city would surely not heed them.  Only by not relinquishing their attention can we hope to repent them to the Good News Regnum Dei preaches."
        He crossed off yet another name on the list with his blood.  "And the next message will be our most potent yet."
        "Their children."  Brother Michael hissed in anticipation.
        "Yes!  We've destroyed many sinners, but the message that will strike the most resonant chord will be when we sacrifice the children of the heathens of this city.  Their defilement is so complete that their children are rife with it.  By purging that, we purge another part of the evil which grips this city."
        He looked at the list.   "We'll wait.  But soon..."

******************************************************************************************

Castle Wyvern
7:00 p.m., EST

        The news had broken worldwide.  Every station was reporting on the bombing at the National Gay and Lesbian Alliance.  The world was reacting with outrage.  Someone had leaked that notes containing Biblical quotes were being left at each scene, causing unrest against many religious figures in the city.  A press release was sent from the Vatican, saying that while in no way did the Roman Catholic church advocate homosexuality, they vigorously condemned the attack.  Spokespeople for other Christian sects made similar statements.
        Castle Wyvern was quiet.  The gargoyles were sitting in the den, listening as Elisa recounted her tale of the invesigation...and of Agent Scully's outburst.
        "It was horrible."  she sighed, looking very downcast.  "She looked so angry...so lost.  It was like she'd come home one day to find her family dead.  That's how it seemed to me."
        "She has our deepest sympathies, lass."  Hudson said in a somber tone.
        "So what are we going to do about this?"  Ophelia asked.  "This...Regnum Dei person is hurting people.  Killing people."
        "We can't really do all that much."  Brooklyn stated sadly.  "Three of the four attacks have been in broad daylight."
        "We has to be able to do somethin'."  Bonavista growled.
        "All we can really do is try to watch for suspicious goings on."  Goliath sighed.  "As Brooklyn pointed out, three of the bombings have occured while we slept.  This may not be a matter we can actively prevent.  We shall still try, though.   In half an hour, we'll leave on a patrol to try and help.  Until then..." he shrugged.
        The gargoyles began to mill around, talking nervously.  Whitbourne was looking rather irritable, and he sounded pretty testy.
        Kennedy Woodworth was up in the castle, too.  Apparently, Tuesday nights were a rather noisy time at the Greenwich Apartment Complex (Elisa attested to that) so she had come up here to study.  She was sitting on the floor, drinking a pop and going over her Chemistry notes.
        "This is getting pretty frustrating."  Elisa sighed softly, looking to Goliath.  "All we can do is clean up after this guy makes his attacks.  No clue on who he is, no advance warning, nothing."
        "Elisa, you're doing your best."  Goliath stated softly.  "You can only do so much."
        "I know, but..."  she sighed.  "I feel so helpless."
        "We'll help you as much as we can."  Goliath swore.
        "I kinda wish I could help you, Elisa."  Kennedy called over, looking up.
        "That's okay, Kennedy."  Elisa smiled, walking over to her.  "I appreciate your co..."
        She stopped dead in her tracks, looking as if somebody had kicked her in the stomach.  Her eyes were fixed on Kennedy's chemistry notes...and the handwriting in the margin of the scribbler page.
        "Elisa?"  Goliath asked, walking over.
        "Can I see this?"  Elisa asked, taking Kennedy's notes.  Kennedy looked on in confusion.
        "Who wrote these notes in the margin?"  Elisa asked.
        "My chemistry professor.  Professor Charles Bell.  He wrote them in when I went up to his office for extra help."  Kennedy replied.  "Why?"
        She looked at Goliath.  "Goliath...that's the same handwriting that's on the notes."

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Williston Park, Long Island
February 18, 1998
1:04 a.m., EST

        It had taken several hours to get everything all ready.  Elisa had taken Kennedy's chemistry notes with her down to the office and checked them against the notes found at the crime scenes.  They were almost an identical match.
        By that time, Scully and Lockyer had made it down to the office.  Matt was truant, but they had decided to leave him be.  He and Cornelia had a very busy day ahead of them tomorrow.  His part in the investigation was pretty much over, and even Elisa would be taking that afternoon off to attend his wedding.
        That wasn't the concern now, though.
        Based on the evidence, Elisa obtained a search warrant and permission to bring Charles Bell in for questioning.  Several officers, along with Andrea Scully and Darcy Lockyer went with her.  Scully rode in the same car as Elisa.
        They pulled up to Bell's house.  It was neatly trimmed and well kept, not at all the sort of place one might expect a madman to live.
        Elisa and Scully walked up to the front door.  Elisa got out the search warrant and the order to bring Bell in.  She looked upwards...Goliath and Hudson were up above.  She'd called from the station once they had an address for Bell, and she's asked them to be there just in case something went wrong.
        Elisa knocked on the door.  There was no answer, so Scully rang the doorbell.
        "I'd like to apologize one more time for the way I acted at the scene today."  Scully sighed.  "I'm sorry, it's just...you know, I don't like to see people like me victimized."
        "It's okay."  Elisa nodded.  "I understand how you feel."
        "Still..."  Scully stated.  By then, Darcy Lockyer and a few other officers had shown up.
        The door opened, and a small looking man with glasses and a receding hairline, dressed in a housecoat and looking very tired, answered it.  "Yes?"
        "Charles Roger Bell?"  Elisa asked.  The man nodded.
        "My name is Elisa Maza, NYPD."  Elisa continued, showing her badge.  "We'd like you to come with us, please."
        Bell looked confused.  "Why?"  he asked.  "Is there a problem?"
        "We'd just like you to come into the city with us to the police station and answer a few questions, sir."  Scully stated.  The officers entered the house, and proceeded to look around.
        "I'd like to call my lawyer, please."  Bell frowned.
        "Sure."  Elisa stated.  "Agent Scully, if you would be so kind as to escort Mr. Bell to the phone..."
        Scully nodded, and she started walking with Bell towards the kitchen.  Elisa stepped inside, and looked around.  It looked like a perfectly normal house, except for the fact that there were crucifixes upon every wall.
        "Detective Maza."  somebody called.  She followed the voice, passing by Bell, who was on the phone with his lawyer.  The man who had called, a rookie officer, was in a room which had several pictures of