2 - Hunter/Hunted
#11 of Shadowdancer
Shadowdancer
By Dracon
[Notice: The characters and events within are inspired by the "Gargoyles" TV Series and as such credit goes to the creators of said series. If any characters appear in the story from said series, those characters belong to their creators.
Should anyone wish to use the characters or events within in their own works, permission is hereby granted to do so. I just ask that you let me know if you are going to do so and provide credit in your work.
Underage viewers should not read this series, and all readers do so at their own risk.]
"Hunter/Hunted"
----Chapter I----
Givens Castle
10244 S. Longwood Dr, Chicago, Illinois
November 5th, 2027
5:46 P.M.
Shattered stone rained down upon the terrace as a triumphant roar split the air. The newly awakened gargoyle looked around herself, and noticed that the sun had set several minutes ago. She stretched her arms and wings towards the sky, trying to fully wake up. She looked at her arm and flexed it, marveling as the tremendous muscles shifted and flowed.
With a chuckle, she realized that she must have 'slept in' for a few minutes.
She glanced around again, and saw that Elayne and Branson were nowhere to be found, but that Trent was only now breaking out of his rocky shell. He waved in her direction with a desultory gesture, a disgruntled expression on his face.
Normally, Jamie would have been annoyed at this treatment, but she had begun to grow accustomed to Trent's early evening lethargy.
She followed him down to the family room, remaining silent in deference to his surly mood. To her relief, Branson and Elayne were talking cheerfully. Branson laid sprawled out on the stage, seeming completely at ease with his place in the world, though Jamie suspected that was only an act. Elayne sat with her back resting against the stage, looking upwards towards Branson.
Leaving Trent to his coffee, she strolled over to the stage. Despite having lived in this body for several days now, it still amazed her at how lightly she was able to walk. Elayne seemed to be the only one with a scale, and she refused to let Jamie use it, as it was calibrated for very small weights. Thus, Jamie was uncertain of exactly how much she weighed, but she believed it was in the vicinity of five or six hundred pounds, yet she could still move almost as quietly as a human.
Seeing her approach, Branson propped himself up into a sitting position and waved to her. "Evenin', Jamie! Elayne and I were just talking about your, uh, news from last night. Since it looks like you're going to be around for awhile, we were thinking you ought to learn a bit more about your new home."
Elayne nodded and motioned for Jamie to have a seat. "Yeah. Branson was the one who brought it up, but I'm gonna help him work up a training program for you. Shouldn't take too long, I think."
Jamie seated herself on the floor, her shapely legs crossed over each other. "So what's this training going to entail?"
Branson gestured expansively. "Well, we've got a lot to cover. I can give you some tips for brawling, let you get in some target practice with your carbine. But you need to know more than how to fight, so Elayne's going to put together a crash course on modern history for you. I bet you don't even know who the President is."
Smiling, Jamie responded, "If you tell me it's a Bush, I swear I'm going to cry."
He grinned back at her, shaking his head. "No need for that, hun. We haven't had one in the Office since '08. Anyway, that illustrates my point."
He stood up and clapped his hands before him for emphasis. "So! Here's my plan. Elayne says it won't take her more than an hour or two to get the program ready. When you're ready, I'll start teaching you what I know about brawling, and then..."
He cupped his hands to his beak, and shouted, "Hey, TRENT! Over here!"
Trent uncurled himself from around the coffee mug, grumbling as he wandered toward the stage. "Yeaa? What do you want?"
Branson smiled at Trent, commenting, "Good evening, Trent! You look mighty chipper today."
Trent responded with a low growl.
Chuckling, Branson said, "Okay, I don't know how much you heard. I'm gonna see what I can teach Jamie about hand-to-hand, and Elayne's gonna work on a program for me. Now, we haven't had much activity for the last few days, so when she's done, I want you and Elayne to fly a patrol over the area, make sure that no lowlifes have taken over since the last time we headed out."
"Prob'bly a good idea, slavedriver. We should prob'bly check out that werewolf sighting while we're at it, yeah?" Trent replied, looking eager to be out of the house for a while.
Branson agreed, "Yeah, that's a good idea. Check with Nathaniel, and the Beverly Boys, too. It's probably nothing, either it was a hoax or the Mutate's moved on by now, but it can't hurt."
Elayne excused herself, saying that she would never get the program done just sitting there. Trent also excused himself, wanting to fortify himself with another cuppa before he headed out to check on the security.
Branson turned to Jamie. "Okay, Jamie. You'll probably want to get changed before we start. I'll give you a 'suit when we get down to the simulator, that's how it tracks your movement. So you probably don't want anything too heavy, the 'suit's pretty tight.
She nodded, then asked, "So is this simulator on the map? I don't feel like getting lost today."
He agreed, gesturing downward. "Yeah, yeah, it's on your map. Basement, near Elayne's shop. Oh, and don't bring your carbine. No need to blow holes in my simulator, Jess..."
He paused, and swallowed hard. Jamie could see tension lines form around his eyes as he fought for control. "...Jessica wrote up a simulation of the gun. So just bring yourself."
He turned and started to leave before Jamie could respond, but she hadn't really wanted to push him, anyway. It must be terribly hard on him right now, dealing with the fact that Jessica had abandoned him to go 'fight the good fight'.
It was hard enough on Jamie, knowing that her girlfriend Vicki was in much the same situation, and Branson and Jessica had been even closer. She shook her head, determined to stop herself from feeling too much sorrow, since there wasn't much to be done about it.
After changing into the leggings, condenser bra, and light blouse that had caught her eye when she originally arrived, Jamie jogged down to the basement to locate this 'simulator room'. It amazed her how fluidly her body compensated for its own shifting mass, even accounting for the virtually dead weight of her outrageous bosom.
She located the simulator with ease. Branson was waiting for her, wearing nothing but a pair of Speedos cut from a Hawaiian print fabric. "You made good time, very good time."
He picked up a bundle of silvery fabric and tossed it to her. "Here, put this on. Trent might be crazy enough to fight you, but I plan to teach you a little differently."
She motioned for him to look away and stripped out of the shirt, tossing it in the locker outside the door, then slid on the suit. Branson hadn't been kidding when he had said it was tight!
It was constructed much like a thin diving suit, though with a modified back to allow attachments for her wings and tail. Once she had slithered into it, she examined herself in the burnished steel of the walls. She certainly had the form to wear it well, her lush curves hugged tightly by the skintight fabric. She noticed that she could see the outlines of her petite nipples through the fabric, and hoped that Branson wouldn't notice their hardness.
Then she turned around and saw Branson. The suit also flattered his lithe, slender figure, the wiry, corded muscles in his arms and legs showing against the fabric. His maleness was emphasized, too, hardly covering it better than his bare skin would. Hoping he wouldn't notice, she eyed him over, marveling at the thickness of his manhood.
He cleared his throat, smiling at her. "Hey, Jamie. Up here, okay? It's not that I mind the attention, but..."
She tore her gaze away, a fiery heat rising on her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Branson, it's just that..."
He walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. Perfectly natural reaction in your position, given that you haven't had a lifetime of practice in fighting down your emotions. I consider it a compliment, personally."
He gave her a moment to collect herself, then asked if she was ready to begin. When she agreed, he called out a program code to the computer, ordering it to load up the first in a series of training simulations he had designed.
The room itself was essentially a large hollow cube of burnished steel, with small glassy lenses arranged in a grid pattern along its walls, ceiling, and floors. Branson explained that they were designed to project patterns onto the opposite surface, providing the illusion of a wider area. The nearby objects were displayed on a set of goggles that each person was to wear, and the computer would track the person's movements by reading tiny sensors scattered about the suit.
The lights dimmed for a moment, and when her eyes adjusted, she appeared to be standing in a poorly lit alleyway. Branson was nowhere to be seen, though she thought she heard the faint sounds of keys clicking. She heard footsteps and spun, just in time to see a large man stride around the corner.
His mountainous frame was sheathed in thick layers of muscle and fat, he appeared to be missing several of his teeth, and it appeared as though he hadn't bathed in a week. At the very least.
He winked at her and spoke, his voice slurred slightly. "Hey, wut's a pritty girl like ya doin' all 'lone out here?"
She shuddered, and turned to walk away, when he threw himself at her, grabbing her around the waist. She grabbed his wrists, expecting to dislodge him easily and likely leave them broken, but to her surprise, she could only barely knock him free.
Unwilling to give him another chance to grab her, she lashed out with a ferocious kick, which impacted against his blubbery belly and propelled him back several feet from the force.
He stood, clutching his stomach, and asked, "Wat wuzzat for? I jus' wanned to giv ya sum companunship!"
She smiled grimly, a sight that would have made any real man tremble, and held her hands in front of her, waiting for him to try and charge her again. "I'm not that kind of woman, bub. And even if I was, I could do better than you."
With a roar, he ran towards her, but she was ready this time. She waited until he had closed to striking range, and lashed out with both fists, pummeling his face repeatedly and driving him back.
It surprised her that he could even remain standing against the force of her blows, until she realized that Branson must have adjusted the program to account for her immense strength.
She finished up with a whip-like strike from her elbow, shattering his nose in a spray of blood and bone. He cried out, and began to stumble backwards, flailing his arms around to try and fend her off.
With a startling burst of speed, he ran off down the corner, shouting at the top of his lungs. Jamie thought of pursuing him, but decided against it.
She received another shock as the world froze around her and turned to a shadowy grey.
Branson's voice rang out from all around her. "Not bad, hun! You figured out my trickery with his toughness parameters quickly enough, I was sure that'd throw you for a loop. Now, I shouldn't be telling you this, but I decided to go a little easy on you. Bubba over there is running for help, so you might want to be getting out of that alleyway. I'd recommend going upwards."
Jamie, unsure of where Branson was standing, spoke to the room directly in front of her. "What do you mean upwards? You want me to just fly out of here?"
He laughed and said, "If only it were that easy! Nah, watch the spotlight."
A spot of color appeared on the ground before her, then traveled upwards along the wall, highlighting a window in the nearby building, about two stories up. Branson's voice called out once more, "Your talons and arms are exceedingly strong, Jamie. You can easily drive your claws into masonry or stone, and haul yourself upwards using them for grips. I'll leave the simulation paused for a few minutes, give you a chance to practice."
With a shrug, she walked over to the wall, leaving behind a pair of glowing footmarks where she had stood. Examining her hands, she stiffened her claws as much as she could, then drove her hand forward like a striking cobra, driving it deeply into the masonry.
She tried to wiggle her hand, but it seemed to be held fast. She reached well over her head, driving her other hand into the wall and hoisted herself up. She misjudged how close she would have to cling to the wall, and the suit pressed in on her firm breasts to simulate the pressure, making her gasp.
Attempting to ignore the feeling, she began to haul herself up the wall, hand-over-hand. She began to figure out the optimum distance she could cover with one 'stride'. When she reached the marked windowsill, Branson spoke once more. "Nicely done, Jamie. That's a good way to get some altitude so you can begin your glide. Try to keep it to a minimum if you can, though. We've got a bad enough reputation without leaving too many holes in public property. Alright, get back down, and I'll bring the sim back up to speed."
When she stood on the footprints once more, the simulation returned to full color and began to move again. A faint breeze blew an abandoned newspaper across the alleyway. It almost succeeded in drawing her attention away from the corner, but she remembered Branson's advice.
Jamie threw herself towards the wall, climbing hand-over-hand along its surface with surprising ease. Her speed proved to be justified, as she began hearing several sets of footsteps just before she reached the sheltered window.
She watched the new adversaries, trying to size them up before she engaged. 'Bubba' was back, looking no worse for wear, as well as what appeared to be three of his best buddies. One was the classic street punk, a chain wrapped around his arm and his hair cut into a Mohawk. Another one was a scrawny Filipino guy, who seemed possessed of a manic energy, barely able to control himself. The final opponent looked to be an elegant man who had fallen upon hard times. He watched the alley with a trained eye, looking for anything out of place.
She figured that the two punks wouldn't be too much of an issue, but she didn't like the looks of the slicker. She also had the feeling that the little guy would be troublesome to her. Planting her feet firmly against the windowsill, she leapt off and dove at the stylish man, hoping to crush him under her weight.
She landed on his back with a shattering crack, knocking him down with a crunch, and leapt off. She lashed out with her tail, striking Bubba in the face, and landed in a crouch. A feral smile showed on her face as she examined her opponents.
Bubba had been knocked on his ass, clutching at his nose again. Slicker was moaning, trying to rise, but unable to do so. Punker unwound the chain from around his wrist and began spinning it around with a wicked keening sound. The little one was stepping around, trying to get behind her back.
She sized up the situation in an instant, and realized that the expected move would be for her to take out the littler opponent. She smiled, then came forward in a roll, under the punk's swinging chain, and rose with an hard jab to his stomach. When he reeled from the blow, he couldn't keep the chain spinning as quickly, and she took the opportunity to catch it around her arm, pulling it away from him.
She sidestepped from the reeling punk, wrapping the chain around her fist to give it a little more oomph. With her top-heavy build, she seemed to get better use from her legs, the angle necessary to clear her bosom with her arms robbing her of some of her reach, but she didn't like the idea of wrapping around it around her talon, figuring that it would utterly destroy her balance.
Suddenly, stars shone in her vision as Slicker lashed out with a set of brass knuckles, apparently not content to lie on the ground. She staggered, but kept her balance by swinging her tail around.
She realized that she was now facing four to one odds. Desperately, she leapt towards the little guy, bowling him over, and pummeled him repeatedly with her chained fist in an attempt to take one of them down. To her surprise, he vanished after a moment, as though he had never existed. It drove home the fact that this was a simulation, something she had lost track of in the heat of the moment.
She reared up, spreading her wings widely, and snarled at the remaining thugs, causing them to stray back, a programmed fear reaction taking over their AI for a moment. She took the opening, and charged forward, launching a sucker punch at Bubba's face, then leveled a kick at the punk's shoulder, knocking him into the slicker.
She rushed towards Bubba, hoping to finish him off. But before she can take him out, the punk jumped onto her back, grabbing at her oversized breasts to distract her, groaning from the feeling of her softness against his hands. Despite realizing that this was only a program, the sensations the suit produced made her gasp, and a blush began to rise on her cheeks, but she refused to let it divert her.
A bestial roar erupted from her throat as she drove her foot down into Bubba's chest. A sickening crack and a spray of blood spewed toward her in the moment before the system removed the actor.
Revolted at what she had done, she stood unguarded for a moment, just long enough for the slicker to strike at her waist with a 2-by-4. She staggered from the blow, the simulation momentarily too intense for her to handle.
She shook her head to clear it, then slammed it back against the punk's forehead and dove back, driving him against a wall. She finished off with an elbow jab, loosening his grasp enough for her to pull him off her back. She grabbed him by the jacket, lifting him over her head, and hurled him towards the slicker, knocking both of them to the ground.
They both vanished in a bit of digital trickery, granting her a moment to catch her breath. But the simulation did not end, and she heard more footsteps rushing towards her. She sighed and turned to face the next wave...
He ended up throwing what seemed like the entire criminal population of Chicago, past, present, and future, at her. Even though the simulator system had regulators in place to prevent the user from being harmed too badly, she still felt beaten, bruised, and bloodied by the time Branson shut down the system.
The lights dimmed again, then brightened after a moment, showing the burnished steel walls once more. One of the panels opened, and Branson stepped out of the cramped control closet. "So, how's it feel to have bested your foes in hand-to-hand combat? You put up one hell of a show, lemme tell you."
Drained from the massive amounts of adrenaline coursing through her system, Jamie slumped to the floor. "How do you think I feel? I feel like I just went through all of boot camp in one go."
Branson laughed, then said, "Okay, maybe I did go a little rough on you, but you handled it admirably. Tell you what, you stay here. I'll be back in a couple, I'm gonna get you some dextrose. You'll be fine."
Jamie leaned her head back against the wall and tried to catch her second wind. After a few minutes, Branson returned, looking cheerful. He tossed her a bottle of 7-Up and a couple of candy bars. "Eat up, you could use the energy. Looks like Elayne and Trent already headed out. "
He held up a disc case. "And, here's that program I asked for. Looks like you get to catch your breath for a while. First you worked your body to its limit, now we get to work on your mind."
Jamie busted open the candy bar, but hesitated before consuming it. "Hey, Branson, quick question for you."
He stopped before opening the door to the control closet. "Yeah, anything. What's up?"
She grinned at him and asked, "What's this going to do to my girlish figure?"
They both started to laugh as Branson worked on the simulator system, reassured that she was feeling more like her usual self.
Chicago Airspace
Over Highway 12
8:12 P.M.
Two darkened silhouettes floated over the city, watching their protectorate with vigilant eyes. Certainly, they saw a few problems, but knowing that they can't be everywhere at once, they did not descend to provide aid.
Elayne swooped near enough to speak with Trent. "Hey, bro, you see anything down there? Think it's safe enough to go give Nate a visit?"
Trent nodded, and said, "Go for it. I'm not seeing a whole lot down here, seems pretty quiet tonight."
Elayne reached into a pocket of her coveralls, under the gel-plate armor she'd donned, and pulled out a slim cell phone. Hundreds of feet over the city, she always got great reception.
Dialing, she waited for the other side to pick up. "Yeah, Nate! It's Elayne, you busy tonight? Wicked! Meet at the usual place, alright? Cool, see you in 15, 20 tops. We'll catch the "L". Great, see ya there."
Putting the phone away securely, she looked to Trent. "We gotta be at the Rookery in 20 minutes. Let's catch the Orange Line, cut some time off the run."
Trent nodded, and the two of them swooped down, burning altitude for speed. By the time they'd made it over the Midway station, one of the trains was just starting to pull away. They flared their wings to drop some speed and landed with muffled thumps on top of the train, gripping tightly to avoid being blown off.
Elayne turned to look at Trent, her crimson hair blowing in the hurricane-force winds produced by the train's passage. She shouted at him, "Y'know, when's the last time we got to head out, just the two of us? What was it, like a month ago?"
Trent thought for a moment, and yelled back, "Yeah, something like that. What do yeh say we go get some take-out after we get done out here, celebrate a little?"
Elayne grinned at him, "Sounds like a date! I get to pick the place this time. No more debacles like that Peking Palace place, alright?"
----Chapter II----
Givens Castle
8:37 P.M.
Jamie rose from the floor, feeling invigorated from her rest. Branson called out from the control closet, "Hey, Jamie, feeling any better? Think you're up to a history lesson yet?"
She shouted back, "Yeah, I'm up for it. Kick it on whenever you're ready!"
Branson had brought in a padded chair, rather than making Jamie sit on the floor for the whole presentation, but had needed to do a little bit of adjustment work to merge it into the program.
Noting that Jamie was comfortably seated, Branson yelled out, "Buckle your seat-belt, Dorothy, 'cuz Kansas is goin' bye-bye!" The lights dimmed as the program loaded up. When the lights restored their brightness, she appeared to be in a dark cave. A fire appeared to be blazing cheerfully on a ledge behind her, and projected flickering shadows along the wall in front of her.
Branson's voice rang out from the ledge, and she could see his silhouette projected in front of her. "Far back in dank, ancient mists of time, Gargoyles arose as the first truly intelligent form of life on this world."
Jamie smiled as she watched him manipulate little winged figures on poles, giving the impression of a clan of Gargoyles flying around.
He continued, "Not too long later, Homo Erectus arrived on the scene. I consider this the beginning of the human race, since that was the first time a truly dominant form of humanity appeared. For a time, our race and theirs lived in a tentative peace."
More hands began to maneuver shaggy, stocky figures along the base of the of the scene. Branson swooped down with a few of his puppets, mingling them among the race of men.
"Finally, the Third Race arrived much later, both of this land and somehow apart from it. Calling themselves the Children of Mab, they were born of the nascent magic permeating the world. They believed themselves to be above the 'lesser races', they attempted to set themselves up as gods." Scorn filled Branson's voice as he spoke this.
Unlike the other two races, no easily identifiable figures were positioned in the scene, but she could make out a few taller, more slender figures moving amongst the humans, waving their arms in an exultant manner.
"This was not to last, however. Humanity attempted to throw off their 'gods', who became weakened by a civil war amongst the Fair Folk. Humanity emerged more powerful from the ordeal, but the peace that had marked the earlier eras would never be seen again. Men drew up their own religions, decrying outsiders, and they became fearful of other races." Branson's voice became sorrowful as he spoke of this.
The lights dimmed once more, and revealed a medieval-style grand hall. Jamie looked around and realized that her chair appeared to be a queen's throne, set atop a high dais, allowing her to survey her virtual subjects.
She noticed that he had even set the system 'paint' her into finely woven silk gown, dyed a rich, royal purple, though her knowledge of history suggested that it would have been considered scandalously low-cut in reality. Not that too many people would have complained about the view...
Branson stepped into the room from a side chamber, wearing the jerkin and leggings of a bard. He spoke, pushing his voice into a more resounding tone. It didn't sound as natural for him as when Trent did it, but she appreciated the effect. "By thy leave, Your Highness, my troupe and I shalt provide thine entertainment this fine night."
Smiling, she nodded at him, and he began to sing of the days of King Arthur Pendragon. Jamie had heard much of the story before, in her past life, but was surprised to hear Branson speak of him as an ally to the Gargoyles.
He also sang of the Fair Folk, describing the insurrection in detail. He made a special note of how King Oberon ended up their leader, and how they were now known as "Oberon's Children".
The lights dimmed again, and rather than brightening, the far wall began to display images. It showed an ornate castle perched upon a stony projection. The sun began high in the sky, but rapidly descended as a rich, rumbling voice spoke. "One thousand years ago, superstition and the sword ruled. It was a time of darkness. It was a world of fear." As the voice spoke, she saw an army of coarse, blond men charging towards the castle, and a terrible battle unfolded before her eyes. As he spoke the final line, the sun fell beneath the horizon.
"It was the age... of Gargoyles!" She saw movement on the castle's battlements, stone figures shifting and coming alive.
They began to fight back against the invaders, alongside the human defenders of the castle. "Stone by day... warriors by night." The combined might of the human and gargoyle defenders were too much for invaders, forcing them back. Several of the gargoyles flew after them in hot pursuit.
Their leader split off to track the leader of the invaders, who had the princess in tow, aided by the castle's own Captain. While he tracked them, the castle's mage laid a curse on the others, believing the princess dead by their actions, turning them into statues. "Betrayed by the humans we had sworn to protect..."
The leader of the gargoyles had his few remaining clansmen placed atop the castle's battlements, then asked to be cursed with the rest of them. Time passed, and Jamie saw the castle torn from its ancient grounds, stone by stone, carried to the top of an enormous skyscraper. "Now, here in Manhattan... the spell is broken, and we live again!"
She watched as the ancient guardians shed their stone skin for the first time in a millennium and swoop down over the city of Men. "We are defenders of the night... we... are... GARGOYLES!"
The lights became muted one more, revealing a strangely normal-looking living room. She seemed to be seated in a recliner, a large television in front of her. It appeared to be tuned to a news broadcast, and Jamie had to chuckle when she saw Branson sitting as its anchorman, garbed in an impeccably tailored suit.
"In other news, today marks the fifty-second anniversary of the founding of Xanatos Enterprises, now one of the largest privately-owned corporations in the world. Started with modest funding in David Xanatos' garage, it now controls significant portions of the military-industrial complex, with a hand in the consumer electronics, computer research, and entertainment industries."
Branson continued, speaking in a dry voice as though reading off a script. "The company almost folded, shortly after the turn of the century, when its New York headquarters, the Eyrie building, was utterly destroyed in the terrorist attack on New York in 2001."
A shaky video showing a silvery jetliner outlined against the pale blue sky filled the screen, moments before the plane plunged into the steel-and-glass structure like a missile, exploding in an apocalyptic fireball. A second plane hit from another side, and the structure began to sway and heave under its now unbalanced weight. Smoke billowed out from twin holes punched through its structure, as shards of metal and molten glass flew in all directions.
Jamie watched in horror as the drama unfolded, so similar, and yet so utterly wrong compared to her memories of the past. Branson continued his monologue, dismay evident in his voice. "The terrorist faction behind the attack issued a video claiming responsibility for the attack, claiming to have struck a blow against the United States by destroying its greatest monument to capitalism and free trade. David Xanatos nearly drove the company into bankruptcy by funding much of the U.S. war effort personally, providing a great deal of equipment and logistics support."
The background imagery shifted to eerily familiar scenes of ground combat in the Middle East, with Branson's voice overlaid on the video. "The U.S.-led Coalition spent many long years chasing after the terrorist faction, rumbling across the Middle East, leaving devastation in their wake."
"The war culminated in a showdown between the U.S. and its allies and Iran, with all the forces they were able to raise. Before Iran could be disarmed, it used the fledgling nuclear arsenal it had amassed. Using the doctrine of scorched earth, they annihilated several regions of the Middle East in 2015. These regions will remain uninhabitable for millennia, standing as monuments to the folly of Men." Satellite images of the craters dominated the screen, glass-like holes blasted into the desert with atomic fury.
The images faded, leaving Branson's composed face on the screen. "In the aftermath of the Third World War, the United States began to follow a more insular agenda, the backlash against its leaders nearly strong enough to remove America from the world's stage."
"Many of its people felt that this was a strange new world, having been exposed in 1996 to the other two Races. Men had long suspected that there were other beings sharing the world with them, but after King Oberon's attack on the Eyrie Building..." Images of a gigantic being with pointed ears and pale blue skin raging against the monumental tower filled the screen.
"...and the attack on the 23rd Precinct Clock Tower a few short weeks later revealed the presence of Fey and Gargoyles to an unprepared Humanity beyond a shadow of a doubt." An explosion filled the screen as a Walleye missile blew the large clock face inward, launched from an ominous looking helicopter on the other side of the screen.
His face reappeared on the screen, next to the visage of a solemn-looking feline head. "Humanity also had to grapple with the results of foul experiments by Dr. Anton Sevarius, which produced a hybrid people called the Mutates. These poor souls were the result of combining human and animal DNA. Suddenly faced with these bizarre new forms of life, Humanity did what it did best, in response."
He looked into the 'camera' and directly into Jamie's eyes. "It hated."
Video from a political rally appeared to the side of Branson's head. "This "Human-First" movement affected the politics of post-War America, including our most recent presidential election."
The video filled the frame and its audio filtered in. A stentorian voice announced, "And it is with great pleasure that I announce the victory of the first American to bear the title "Madam President", Senator... Elisa... Maza!"
A furious cheer arose from the assembled crowd as an elegant looking woman ascended to the podium. Her face showed the thin lines of age, but did not disguise the fact that she was a beautiful woman. Her figure was still toned, as she had not given up her dedication to maintaining her body, and her raven-colored hair showed only the faintest hints of grey, which gave her an air of wisdom.
She spoke, her voice tightly controlled, but showed pleasure at her new position. "People of the United States of America, I am honored to be chosen as your new President. You have spoken out, called for a new style of leadership. I intend to restore this great nation to its former days of glory. It is time to move beyond the aftermath of the War, it is time that we cease to hide ourselves away from the world, and it is time that we take our rightful place as the greatest of the Three Races!"
The lights dimmed once more, and the steel walls of the simulator shimmered into view. Branson rose from his kneeling position in front of Jamie, and held his hand out to her. When he spoke, his voice sounded slightly hoarse. "Well, feel enlightened at all, Jamie?"
She nodded and took his hand. "You've given me a whole lot to think about... but I think I understand this world a little more now. Nice acting job, by the way."
He smiled at her. "Thanks. I probably could have made this a little more concise if I'd really wanted, but I wanted to have some fun, too. Well, I'm gonna go get something to drink, my throat is absolutely parched. Once I get back, I'll load up the gunnery program, and we'll see how well you do with that."
Rookery Building
209 S La Salle St, Chicago, Illinois
8:43 P.M.
Seeing the Rookery Building about a block away, Elayne checked her watch and frowned. "Nuts! We're late, Trent. I hope Nate's still hanging around."
He frowned, scanning the rooftop. "Well, looks like someone's on the roof. He'll come through for us, yeah?"
The two bled off altitude and came in for a soft landing. A slender man stood in atop the roof, a brown raincoat shielding him from the howling wind.
Trent cupped his hands over his muzzle, and shouted over the wind. "Nathaniel, sorry to keep yeh waiting! The traffic was murder out there!"
Nathaniel turned at the sound of his voice, moonlight glinting off his eyeglasses, as he spoke in a monotonous voice. "'Bout time you two showed up, I was getting ready to call it a night. You got any leads for me?"
Nathaniel Lloyd was not an imposing man, but he held a certain power over Chicago Clan, and they knew it. He seemed decidedly average, glasses obscuring his hazel eyes, set within a narrow face, topped by a thatch of muddy brown hair, now tousled by the wind. His build was wiry, and he had the long, lean look of a greyhound.
Elayne shook her head. "Afraid not, Nate. We're going to have to call in one of those favors you owe us. Branson wants you to track someone down for us."
Nathaniel groaned, "Not another pro bono, girl. You know what I went through the last time you asked me for a 'favor'?"
Trent grinned at him, "As I recall, didn't you end up hanging by one hand from a flagpole, 20 stories in the air, by the end of that lead?"
Nathaniel nodded, rubbing his wrist with remembered pain. "Yeah, that's the one. I've got to be certain nothing like that will happen this time, at least. My editor would hate to see me spill my guts, after all." He turned a little pale. "Literally or metaphorically."
Trent tried to reassure his friend. "Don't worry, chum, all we need is a little information this time. We'd like you to tell us about that "werewolf" sighting you reported on a week ago, yeah?"
Nate snorted. "Oh, is that all you want? Looks like I'm going to be dangling a flagpole again before the night's out. Sorry, bro, what you saw is what I got, essentially. Best I can do is give you the last location I've gotten from my sources. And you know I ain't gonna tell you who they are, so don't ask."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Why am I doing this? Oh, very well. The critter was seen in Mansfield Park, over in Morton's Grove. You'll have some fun out that way. Air's gonna be pretty dead over the Park. If I understand it right, you'll be able to get there easily enough, but once you land, taking off's going to be a challenge. So be careful. Branson would have my skin if anything happened to you two."
Elayne hugged him, placing a kiss on his forehead. "You're the greatest, Nate. How about if we tell you the story when we get back?"
Nate grinned back at her. "That'd do me just fine. You know..." He leaned in, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, "...sometime when Big Ugly's not around, you still owe me that... heh heh, private interview."
Elayne smiled, ignoring the dirty look Trent gave her. "We'll just have to see, won't we?"
Nathaniel waved the two of them off. "Go on, shoo, shoo. You've got a monster to catch, and I've got news to report. Good luck on your hunt, you hear? I ain't letting you die 'til I get my story!"
After the two gargoyles ascend to the air, Trent swooped over close to Elayne. "Private interview, love? You really shouldn't encourage him, you know."
Elayne smiled at her mate. "You worry too much, Trent. It's just a little bit of fun. Maybe he's a little bit of a slime, but you know he's harmless."
The two gargoyles cut through the inky night sky like razors, plying their way toward the Park. Elayne swerved to fly closer to Trent. "So, uh, didja read your letter yet?"
Trent nodded, sadly. "Yeah... yeah, I did. She did a terrible thing, didn't she? I wouldn't want that kind of weight on my shoulders, that's for sure. Y'know, this doesn't surprise me that much. I mean, you know how she always was. I always figured she'd get herself killed in some damn fool idealistic crusade, and this is the next best thing, yeah?"
Elayne agreed, sorrow evident in her voice. "Yes... I know what you mean. I dunno, though, I always envisioned her giving herself to save the clan... though, I guess that's what she felt she was doing, if you look at it right."
Trent sighed, lost in thought for a moment, but then spoke again. "So, what do yeh make of Jamie?"
Elayne thought for a moment, then said, "She seems to be a good person. She's certainly been working hard, trying to get up to speed, and I gotta give her credit for that. This can't be easy for her, y'know."
Trent smiled grimly. "Tell me about it. She still needs polish, but she's getting downright deadly with that blade of hers. I do hope Branson's working on getting her to defend herself, though. She's going to get herself killed if she doesn't learn that, yeah?"
The city sprawled beneath their wings like a map, and they almost missed their mark. Trent felt himself tense up as he flew over rows of nigh-identical houses. They simply looked far too much the same for his taste, and he imagined that their well-kempt yards must contain some dark secret.
Elayne turned to look at Trent. "'sup, Trent? You look like you saw something you don't like."
He shook his head. "No, I just don't like suburbs. Never did, never will. How can people live like this, anyway?"
He pointed ahead toward the park. "Over there! Come in low, let's see what we can see without having to go on foot."
They split up, each covering half of the park and its surroundings. It seemed still enough, and there certainly wasn't enough cover to hide much of anything within the park proper. But many houses lie immediately adjacent to it, and they began to search the alleyways, a much more time-consuming process.
Elayne was about to call off the search when she heard Trent shout for her. She banked and flew off towards him, pulling a grenade from her belt in preparation. He saw her tense posture and yelled for her to stand down. "I think I found our wolf! Follow me down!"
They bled altitude, coming in low over the houses. Trent pointed at an alleyway, and gestured for her to land at the far end. "Easy, love, easy. We don't want to scare him!"
The two gargoyles landed on either side of the slim path and moved in stealthfully, with a practiced ease. Trent heard a low moan and advanced more quickly, motioning for Elayne to stay back.
A strange, winged figure lay in a pool of blood as he tried to hide behind a couple of trashcans. He breathed heavily, and was obviously in terrible pain. He tried to make himself appear even smaller when he heard footsteps coming, afraid of anyone seeing him.
Trent crouched to appear less imposing, and called out softly. "Hey there. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm here to help. We've been looking for you all night."
The dark figure sobbed softly, and began to gibber. "That's what they said, what they said before they took me, took me to their lab, changed me, changed me... Stay back! I won't go back, you won't make me!"
Trent took a quick look at the wolf. The Mutate process induced drastic changes in the human body, making it hard to judge, but Trent thought he might only be an adolescent, 15 or 16, tops. The boy showed a goodly degree of muscle. If he'd had to guess, Trent would have said he had been a football player before he changed. The kid looked like he would have been pretty handsome, once.
Trent hung his head, feeling an intense pity for the Mutate. "I have no intention of giving you over to them. I just want to help you." He tried his most charming smile on the figure. "Trust me, yeah?"
The injured canid looked at him with a suspicious gaze, appraising him. "You're not like the others that came after me... did they... make you, too?"
Trent shook his head, exhaling heavily. "No, no, no. I'm a little different. But you can be certain that I'm not with the company, anyway. I'll tell you more, but this really isn't the place, yeah?"
The Mutate began to rise, but cried out as he put his weight on his left leg. Trent quickly placed an arm under his shoulder, trying to brace him. "Elayne! Get in here, our chum needs a hand!"
Elayne ran over and threw an under the Mutate's other shoulder, but the canid looked at her and shied away, trying to hide behind Trent, screaming "What the fuck is that, man?!?"
She looked into Trent's eyes and sighed. "This is getting to be a long night."
----Chapter III----
Givens Castle
9:14 P.M.
"Alright, hun, I'm loading up the familiarization protocols first. Hold the Rod in front of you, and give the system a couple seconds to catch up." Branson was once again running the show from the control closet.
Jamie stood in the center of the room holding a slender white rod that Branson had explained as a controller for the system, allowing it to simulate weapons of varying sizes.
The lights dimmed for a split second, but the only thing that changed was Jamie's controller. It looked exactly like the strange carbine Jamie had in her closet. She waved it around a little bit, getting a feel for the simulated weight and balance. She knew it was an image wrapped around a controller, but it certainly felt real enough.
Branson stepped out of the control room. "Okay, the program, such as it is, is paused right now. You hold in your hand a simulated X-26 man-portable particle accelerator. This one's pretty much a custom job that Alex had put together for you."
He motioned for her to hand him the 'weapon'. "Here's the deal. The 'barrel' is a sort of railgun. The weapon generates a packet of positive alpha particles, then the barrel accelerates them to a high speed. By 'high speed', I mean 'a goodly chunk of light-speed'. If a big enough packet is generated, you can blow a goodly hole in many materials, if they're not too dense."
He flipped it around, showing her the selector switch. "On a firearm, this would determine how many rounds you fire at a go. But on this puppy, there's just two settings. "Electrical" and "Rock'n'roll." I hope you'll be wanting to use Electrical most of the time. The alpha particles have a positive charge, remember?"
He pointed to the lower portion of the barrel. "This is essentially a big discharge unit. It builds up a negative charge that travels along a corridor of positively charged air, created by the alpha particles, to the target. It's kind of like a really big tazer. Now, "Kinetic" is a whole different story. It cuts out the discharge unit, and just fires a big glob of alpha particles. It's a little less accurate, but at close range, it's as good as a bullet, maybe better."
He presented the carbine to Jamie, holding the barrel away from either of them. "That's all pretty academic, though. What you need to know is that this is an extremely dangerous device, and that it works like any gun as a general rule."
She took the gun from his hands, holding it to her bosom. "I've never fired a gun, Branson. You'll have to start from scratch with me."
He nodded, and headed for the control closet. "Yeah, I'd planned on that. It's not so hard, really." His voice took on a wistful tone. "Too easy, when you get down to it. This world might be a better place... but you already know that, I suspect. Anyway! Loading up the simulator. Get ready."
A target shooting range appeared in a wash of darkness, an apparent concrete floor beneath Jamie's talons, a long aisle laid out in front of her. She stepped forward into the booth and pressed the button on the table within. A grey plastic block dropped into a slot to her left. Branson's voice came from a speaker above her. "You'll see that the capacitor pack is tapered; slam the narrow end into the base of the carbine, and listen for a click. Once that's done, press the button again and a target will drop down. Figure out the rest."
She loaded the carbine in one fluid movement, slipped the strap around her neck, and pressed it to her shoulder. It took some effort for her to find a position that allowed her to brace it without mashing her breasts together uncomfortably.
Feeling a little cocky, she slammed the button, and a paper silhouette of an armored man dropped down from the ceiling.
Branson spoke once more. "Okay, take a moment to figure out the sights. Take all the time you need to line up the shot. Keep your breathing steady."
Morton's Grove
9:22 P.M.
Elayne scanned the alley around them, watching for anything out of place. "C'mon, c'mon... Got to find some way up. Too bad the kid passed out, maybe he knew the area. Any ideas, Trent?"
Trent shook his head. "We need to head west. There's that cliff, maybe we could catch some air, there. Let's move out!"
Elayne helped Trent carry the unconscious Mutate, but questioned his decision. "We'll be awfully exposed, though, won't we? Not that I'm seeing much of a better option, but still..."
They made their way more slowly than they would have liked, in deference to the wounded canid's leg. Trent had tied a compress above it to try and stop the bleeding, bandaging it as best he could. The wound seemed clean, but Trent was certain that the bullet remained logged within it, and removing it was beyond his meager facilities here.
As they neared the far side of the next suburban block, the Mutate began to stir. He looked into Trent's face, pale yellow eyes blinking open. "Wh...what happened?"
Trent smiled down at his charge. "Welcome back. Just stay still, don't want you to jar that leg of yours. We're trying to get you to safety."
The canid nodded, "Thank you. You're trying to become airborne, right? I think I can fly alright if you can get me up."
Elayne pointed ahead to the clearing in front of them. "Moment of truth. Not going to be much cover from here on out. We need to hurry... this might sting a little, kid."
They accelerated, covering the intervening terrain with a ground-eating trot. The wolf winced with each jarring footstep, his eyes screwed shut from the concentration required to keep from crying out.
Chicago Airspace
9:32 P.M.
"...the specimen is nearing Chick Evans Golf Course. This experiment has gone on long enough. Your unit is cleared to terminate the experiment, following standard decontamination procedures." A thin voice, faintly accented with an oriental intonation, came from the helicopter's speakers.
"Roger that, Dr. Yutani. The specimen should be back in your lab within three hours. I think my men and I can handle one wounded Mutate." A huskier voice, filled with confidence, replied.
"Good luck, Mr. Keeler. I anticipate your next report. Yutani out." The video screen clicked off as the transmission ended.
Keeler spun his seat around to address the men riding behind him in the hold. "Well, boys, you heard the boss. It's time to earn our paychecks, and I intend to split the bonus five ways, you hear? We'll do this one by the book, should be a snap. Gear up! We'll be going in hot, contact in five!"
Givens Castle
9:35 P.M.
"...Okay, Jamie. Think you've blown away enough targets for one night?" Branson called out from the control closet.
"Sure, Branson. How do you think I'm doing? It seems easy enough so far, but..." Jamie sounded unsure of herself, still leery of the carbine's action.
Branson chuckled and replied, "Well, you can only do so much with target practice, but you seem to be getting the hang of it. I'll toss something a little more interesting your way, how about that? Prepare for system shutdown."
When the room returned to its base state, Branson stepped out of the control room. "I'm gonna show you a little trick first, though. I'm no good at it, but Jessica used it a lot. Okay, hold your carbine at arm's length, like a pistol. Good... now, pull it closer, rest the stock against your bicep."
Jamie pressed the carbine's stock against her right arm, and it felt somehow right. She locked her elbow and began to swing it around with her wrist and shoulder, feeling it track smoothly with her movements.
Branson grinned at her, watching her jockey the weapon around. "Not bad. Seems like a good fit, huh? Now, you won't want to use that stance if you need to fire beyond... oh, 50 yards, maybe. You can't use the sights, so you'll have to eyeball the shots, and there's no way you're sniping with that. But close in, it helps, and you can use your sword in your left hand."
He slapped her shoulder, smiling. "Well, figure out how you want to shoot. I'll leave it up to you. I'll get the next step of your training loaded. Ready up!"
Morton's Grove
9:36 P.M.
They were almost to the cliff's edge, ready to launch off, when Trent slowed. "Fantastic. Elayne, you hear that? Sounds like a chopper, incoming."
Elayne slowed as well, and listened in. "Yeah, I hear that. Let's get down. Probably just a civilian craft, but if we fly now, they'll call ATC, right?"
They set the wolf down, and Trent pulled a green sheet out of a coat pocket. "Hold this down. Maybe they won't see us."
Elayne nudged the canid's arm. "How's your leg feeling, kid?"
The wolf smiled at her. "Tolerable. It'll be better once we're in the air. Call me Malcolm, alright? I don't want to sound ungrateful, but... you mind telling me just who you two are?"
Elayne began to explain, but Trent shushed her. "Is it just me, or is that chopper not shoving off?
Malcolm started to reply, as the chopper began to descend. Trent flung the sheet free, yelling, "LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!"
Chicago Airspace
Over Morton's Grove
9:36 P.M.
"Reading multiple signatures on Infra. Bringing her down hot, I want you boys out of here the instant we hit the ground. Be careful! There's something weird about two of the signatures." A chorus of affirmations sounded in the hold as Keeler wrestled the helicopter down at an unsafe speed.
Givens Castle
9:37 P.M.
An office building seemed to shimmer into existence around Jamie, the overhead lights dimmed to save on electricity, indicating to her that this scenario was supposed to be late at night.
A cell phone rang in her pocket. She picked up, placed it to her ear, and heard Branson's voice. "This program's simple enough. There's a disc you need to acquire, somewhere on this floor. There will be guards attempting to stop you. I'll give you a score based on how well you do. Try to move fast, try not to get hurt, and try not to kill anyone if you don't absolutely have to. Simulation begins in 3 seconds."
She dropped it back into her pocket, leaving the connection open. Raising the carbine to her shoulder for accuracy, she looked around. An elevator, its doors open, was behind her, presumably how she was supposed to have gotten onto this floor. A cube farm lay in front of her, providing a good deal of cover. The building didn't seem to be on alert, but she watched warily.
She proceeded cautiously, though quickly, through the farm, watching for movement. She saw several workers with their heads bowed down over their computers, burning the midnight oil for the good of the Company. They seemed not to notice her passage.
She found a terminal worked into the wall, accessed it to bring up a schematic of the office. It seemed to be a simple enough layout, and she memorized the important parts quickly. Something seemed amiss, though, and she focused on the environment around her, just in time to hear the click of a phone being put back into its cradle.
She glanced back at the terminal, noticing a conference room just down the hall. Assuming that one of the workers had called in security, she ducked into the conference room and dove under the table, weapon aimed at the door.
Her instincts proved correct as she heard heavy, booted footsteps pass by the conference room. She waited for a several seconds, until she heard them spread out. She sneaked out of the room, proceeding down the corridor quietly. She headed toward the lab she'd seen on the map, figuring that the disc would be there.
She heard a shout behind her and broke into a run. She heard a bullet whiz past her head, burying itself in the wall. She thought she might be able to outrun the guards, but bullets were an entirely different story. She dropped to a crouch and sighted down the barrel.
She saw a flicker of movement, a matte-black projection coming around the wall, and rolled to the side as one of the soldiers fired off a burst at her.
Chick Evans Golf Course
9:38 P.M.
Trent and Elayne yanked Malcolm to his feet, eliciting a cry of pain from the wolf, as the helicopter swooped down behind them. Elayne shouted, "Malcolm, head to the south, St. Paul Woods! We'll try to cover you!"
The wolf nodded, throwing himself off the cliff. He spread his wings and began to glide towards the woods. Elayne pulled a shotgun from her back, and Trent drew his sword.
Men began to emerge from the helicopter as it hovered a few inches above the ground, four of them, garbed in black bodysuits with silvery armor plates. They hit the ground running, and began to fire at the two gargoyles. The moment the four of them had left, the chopper began to rise, chasing after the Mutate...
Elayne started to turn towards the chopper, but Trent said, "No! It'll tear you apart. We need to take care of these thugs before we do anything else, and Malcolm will just have to fend for himself until we're done."
Trent ran forward, weaving and rolling, as Elayne started snapping off shots above his head. She knew that her slugs wouldn't do much against their armor, but they might distract them from Trent.
Trent's eyes glowed a furious white as he charged the soldiers. He knew this was a foolish chance, that there was every possibility he would take too hard of a hit to carry on before he could even close, but that was a risk he had to take.
Elayne fired off her last shot, and advanced as she began to reload, knowing she'd have to get close or lucky to do much good against the armored men.
Trent judged that he was about 4 meters away from the soldiers, and took a mighty leap towards them, landing among them. He began to weave amongst them, using the soldiers as shields against each other, his blade lashing out whenever he saw an opening.
Shots rang out once more as Elayne took closer aim, firing at weak points in their armor. Blood spurted as Trent slashed at one soldier's stomach, opening a deadly wound, dropping the man. Trent stomped on the man's gun as he spun to fight the next grunt, crushing it beneath his talon.
Malcolm tore through the air like a rocket, the helicopter in hot pursuit. He felt betrayed by his so-called rescuers, abandoning him as they had to the machine. Heading for the woods seemed like good advice, though, since it would be much harder for the helicopter to follow him in there. His only hope was to stay too erratic of a target for the chopper's chaingun to track him.
Trent kicked one of the two remaining soldiers in the sternum, knocking him back, as Elayne moved into the melee. She'd released her firearm, allowing it to dangle by the strap, and grabbed at the large wrench she carried at her side, and started swinging at the other soldier, driving him away from Trent.
The heavy steel instrument was a practical tool, but also made for an effective bludgeon, and she possessed the strength to crush through the soldier's armor with it.
A scream ripped the air as Trent drove his blade into the soldier's chest, ending his life in an instant.
Elayne bludgeoned the other grunt, slamming him in the helmet and driving him to the ground. She scanned around, making sure all the soldiers were down, and examined their bodysuits closely. "Hey, Trent! I think these grunts are Gen-U-Tech!"
Trent nodded, cleaning his blade on one of the soldiers' suit. "That'd explain why they were after Malcolm. Come on, we've got to give the lad a hand!"
They leapt from the cliff, beating hard with their wings to gain a little extra speed, using all of their strength to try and catch the speeding chopper. They kept their weapons readied, knowing they would need to strike quickly and decisively when they got within range.
Malcolm wove through the air as heavy-caliber rounds whooshed past him. He could feel that the tourniquet on his leg had loosened, and the wetness told him that it was only a matter of time before he lost the strength to continue his flight. He scanned the woods below him for a safe place to hide.
He dove, trying to reach the ground as quickly as possible, but he realized his mistake only a moment before intense pain shot through his chest...
Givens Castle
9:42 P.M.
Jamie had found the disc, but was pinned down by a seemingly never-ending supply of guards. She had taken a fairly defensible position within the lab, but she couldn't make much headway against their numbers without exposing herself.
Her eyes went wide as she saw a grenade flying towards her. There was no time to move before it impacted, and she braced herself. Instead of exploding into shrapnel, though, it rang out with an intense, multi-frequency burst of sound, and an almost tangible shockwave of white light.
She realized instantly that she could neither see nor hear, the flashbang's concussive wave having overloaded her senses. A few moments later, intense pain wracked her body as the soldiers began stabbing her with tazers, driving her into unconsciousness.
She woke up a moment later, but the simulator had reverted to its default appearance. Branson stepped out of the control closet and helped her up. "I'm sorry that I had to do that to you, I really am. You okay? Tricky business, simulating a proper shock."
She clasped his hand, rising from the floor slowly, her thick muscles protesting with a treacherous stiffness. "You mind telling me what that was all about?" She groaned as her right leg started to cramp. "I feel like I just got run over..."
He knelt and began to massage her leg. "You've just learned about two of our more irritating weaknesses. Our senses and nerves are more sensitive than a human's. Our sight is sharper, our hearing more keen... our sense of touch more precise...."
He smiled up at her as he said this last. "But there's a price for all this. You felt it when that stun grenade went off next to you. You received too much stimuli for your senses to handle, and they... crashed. Electricity is also our bane. Our nerves conduct it easily. That's where these particle guns came from, honestly."
Branson frowned as he continued knead her leg, trying to work the cramp out. "David Xanatos wasn't always our ally. He tried to hunt down our kin for some time... but that's a story for another time. Point is, he developed these guns as a means of delivering an electrical shock at long range, knowing it would incapacitate us more easily than a gunshot."
He released her leg. "There you go, feeling any better?"
She put her weight on it, winced slightly, but felt that it was tolerable. "Yeah... I'll be fine. Thanks for the massage, though, that felt really good. You've got a light touch, Branson. So how'd Xanatos end up as our friend, then, if he tried to hunt us?"
Branson smiled. "He had a son, Alex. Manhattan Clan helped him fend off King Oberon, who wanted the child for his own purposes. Ever since then, he felt that he owed us a debt. He made sure Alex visited the Clans and got to know them, too. David hopes that his son will be an ambassador between our two races."
She nodded, thoughtfully. "Well, he seems like a nice enough guy. I wonder what the King of the Fair Folk would want with him, though..."
Branson shook his head. "I have no idea, honestly. There's got to be a reason, though. After, what, 1500 years, at least? You don't survive as top dog that long by being stupid. Well, enough lessons for the night. I think you've had it, heh. You done good, though. I'm proud of you, Jamie. I'd tell you to go get some sleep, but that's kind of a moot point. Maybe go get yourself a snack. I'm gonna close up shop here, then head to the roof to watch for Elayne and Trent."
Chicago Airspace
Over St. Paul Woods
9:43 P.M.
Trent saw the young wolf take the hit from the chopper's main gun and screamed in outrage. Willing himself to fall faster, he dove at the chopper, sword held out before him like a lance. "ELAYNE! GET THE LAD!"
He smiled grimly, determination showing on his face, and a snarl emerged from his muzzle. "This tosser's mine."
He landed on the chopper's tail, just ahead of the rear rotor. The howling wind nearly blew him off, but he dug in with his claws and started advancing toward the cockpit.
Keller felt the shock of impact. "What the hell..." More impacts, and the sound of metal tearing, filled the cockpit. Keller went white as he realized that the other subjects must have overcome his men.
He slammed the radio, activating a mayday signal. "This is Keller! Subject terminated, but the chopper is..."
A loud crunch sounded, and the chopper wobbled in its path. "...compromised. I'm bailing, requesting immediate evac!"
Elayne tucked her wings in close, angling toward the Mutate like an arrow. She didn't like the look of his descent, the way he seemed totally limp. She was simply too far away to intercept him, though, and lost him as he entered the trees.
She concentrated, listening for the inevitable sounds of impact. She had a fair idea of where he would come down, assuming he didn't impale himself on a tree first.
Keller pulled the hatch open, checking the straps on his parachute before he jumped. He heard more sounds of metal tearing, and decided that now would be a good time to leave.
Trent knew this type of helicopter passably well, and had busied himself with tearing out its fuel and hydraulic lines. In his fury, he failed to notice the pilot's evacuation. As far as he was concerned, his purpose at his particular moment in time was to rip this chopper apart piece by piece. Then he heard the aircraft's engines sputter and die, and decided that this would be an excellent time to leave.
Elayne spotted a hole in the wooded canopy that seemed roughly human-sized. She folded her wings and dove through it, dismayed to see blood spattered on the leaves. Peering through the hole, she saw the wolf's battered body, supported by the crook of three sturdy branches.
Spreading her wings to bleed off speed, she landed next to him. He was still breathing, but his abdomen was mostly... gone, removed by several large caliber rounds. She was no medic, but she knew that even a gargoyle would be hard pressed to heal a wound like that. She laid a hand on the youth's forehead, feeling how unbearably cool the flesh was. "Malcolm... Malcolm, can you hear me?"
His eyes fluttered open, their surfaces bloodshot. "You... came for... me." His voice was made ragged by the pain and the damage.
Tears welled in her eyes. "Yeah... yeah, I came for you. I won't lie to you, kid. I don't think you're going to make it."
He nodded, coughing wetly. "I know. But at least... I'll be free. You gave me that. Thank you, Elayne."
His eyes closed, and she could hear his breathing become more erratic. She watched in horror as his breaths stopped, and he went still. Unable to do anything more, she picked up his unmoving body and began to drop to the forest floor. Landing with a loud thud, she set the body down and began to rip at the mossy surface with her claws.
Trent jumped off the chopper as it began to fall, spreading his wings to keep from following it. Seeing no sign of Elayne, but noticing the ominous hole in the canopy, he plunged down it, noticing the drying blood.
Depressed, he heard a tearing sound at the base of the shaft, and began to drain speed, fearing the worst.
A cry tore itself from his throat as he saw Elayne place the wolf's body into the hole she had dug in the ground. He landed softly, and fell to his knees. "Elayne, what happened to him?"
She shook her head, tears trailing down her face. "We were too late. He'd gotten hit by a burst from the chopper's guns. Two, maybe three shots. I couldn't do anything to help."
Trent rose and threw his arms around her, clutching her closely.
Givens Castle
10:17 P.M.
Jamie stood on the roof, arms clasped behind her back, her long white hair blowing around in the breeze. "Shouldn't they be back by now?"
Branson frowned, scanning the skies with a pair of binoculars. "I'd have thought so... maybe they decided to go out for dinner or something. Things have been a little tense here as of late, so I really can't blame them."
He grinned at her. "After the way I've been smacking you around, I bet you wish I'd sent you off with them, right? Get a nice, pleasant tour of the city, heh."
He saw her begin to frown, looking over his shoulder, and spun around. A faint, humanoid image had appeared behind him, and was slowly solidifying itself into the form of an upright bear.
He spread his arms widely. "Kee! It's been awhile, hasn't it? What can I do for you?"
Kee shook his head gravely. "It seems we only meet in times of sorrow, Lord Branson. I come bearing grave news."
With that, he began to describe what he had seen when as he watched Trent and Elayne...
----The End----