Volume #15: "Faces of the City"

The alien scavengers searching around the wreckage were ill prepared for the shotgun blast that shook them away from their quarry. Dazed, they followed the trail of smoke to the blast's source ... an older, black man holding a police-issue riot gun.

"I said get back! You don't hear too good for Martians, do ya?!"

The aliens looked at each other, then stood back up.

=You will perish this day, human.=

He cocked the shotgun again. "Try it. I dare ya."

A Rokkan lunged, only to be met by another blast, this one point-blank in the face. The alien rolled backward, now newly headless. The other two looked at the third's killer, eyes glowing blue.

=You'll pay for that, pitiful ...=

The Rokkan was interrupted by a fist to the face. The human turned to see his savior, but didn't know how to react.

It was a gargoyle. Not like any of the ones he had seen so many years ago ... while he was on the force. This one looked kind of like he came from out of town. He put his amazement aside for the moment, seeing two others swoop in to assist, and finally drive the Rokkans away.

"And I thought Lex said these guys were tough!"

"Don't let an easy victory fool you, young one. They may be running back for more reinforcements."

The human cocked his gun, trying to get their attention. The three gargoyles looked at him, warily.

"Not that I don't appreciate the assist ... which I do ... but exactly who the hell are you?" The three gargoyles approached him, entering the light. One was really tall and seemed to be the youngest. One was almost his own height, but much older.

The third one looked vaguely like a dog.

The tall one regained the human's attention, extending his hand. "Greetings, human. I am Mustang, of Clan Detroit."

The human set down his shotgun, clasping his hand. "Never thought I'd be glad to see more of you guys. Name's Morgan, NYPD 23rd Precinct retired."

The gargoyles looked at each other. "More of us? Where would they be?"

"Over at the Aerie Building. Can't miss it, it's the tallest building in Manhattan."

The tall one turned to the elder. "What do you think, Dodge?"

"He seems trustworthy enough." Noticing the doggoyle had sidled up to Morgan for affection, Dodge nodded. "Buick seems to like him. That's good enough for me."

Mustang nodded, turning back to Morgan. "Please, lead the way."

"All right. We just need to pick up a friend of mine first ..."

The encampment stood near the center of the park, where joggers had once roamed, ran, and been mugged at. Now, however, it stood as a bastion of humanity's last defense.

Troops in police-style uniforms came in and out of the tent all through the day and night, getting new assignments and much-needed food and sleep shifts. They all knew that they were the last line of defense. If they should fall, the result would be too horrifying for any of them to even dream about.

And at the nerve-center of this operation sat one woman, one whose tireless sense of honor and justice had earned her the title of general among her troops, as she continued to bring in intelligence and send patrols out. Though she never seemed to tire, everyone knew that it was the threat to humanity ... her humanity ... that kept her awake.

That woman was General Maria Chavez.

Another scout party on this night came back into the tent to make their report before the General.

"Status." Matter-of-factly, she asked.

The party's commander came forward and saluted. "Ma'am, we suffered heavy casualties in conflict with the Rokkans near Times Square. Currently eight dead, twelve injured out of my company." The commander turned to the other three people with him. "Us three are the only ones left."

"And the gargoyles?"

"Didn't see but a few. Looked like a scouting party, there were a few that I didn't recognize from your descriptions. They had Quarrymen with them."

That was a twist, she thought sardonically to herself. "How long since you slept, captain?"

"Eighteen hours, ma'am."

"Take your survivors and get a meal and some sleep. We'll assign you another party."

The commander nodded, turning and dispersing the other two with him to the recoup area of the tent. Chavez sat back in her chair, rubbing her temples in a futile attempt to stem the oncoming migraine.

"Captain?"

She looked up, seeing a friendly, familiar face. "Morgan! How've you been, old man?"

"Retired, resting, fighting for my life, getting flown around. You know, the usual." He came forward, allowing Mustang, Dodge and Buick to enter. "These folks are dying to know where they can find our friendly neighborhood gargoyle clan."

Chavez stood up. "Great. More fighters. We could use them." She approached the three Detroit gargoyles, shaking hands with them. "General Maria Chavez, human Earth resistance."

"I am Mustang, this is Dodge and Buick." He took a casual look over at Chavez's desk and saw snapshots of fighting gargoyles that had been presented to her. One blue web-winged gargoyle especially caught his attention.

Chavez noticed his distractedness. "Anything I can help you with, Mustang?"

"I see you have already met my rookery sister."

Chavez turned and looked at the photo. Picking it up, she pointed at the blue gargess. "You know this one?"

"Her name is Pontiac. She was with us in Detroit before her mate convinced her to come here with him." Mustang pointed at the photo again, this time at the olive-skinned gargoyle flying closely by Pontiac. "That's him. Lexington."

"Lexington?" She looked at the photo again, seeing Pontiac and Lexington gliding together, then turned back to Mustang. "Lexington is her mate?!"

Mustang nodded, in all seriousness. Morgan stepped forward.

"If we could get back to the point of our visit ... I was wondering if the General of the Earth Resistance would be interested in meeting her gargoyle backup."

Chavez smiled. "Tempting ... I think I'll take you up on that, Morgan. Lead the way." She looped her arm through Dodge's, allowing him to lead her out of the tent. As they left, however, she had to ask one more time.

"Lexington?!"

The place looked less like a police station than a hospital triage ward. Injured and dying people lined every wall, covered every desk. Medics frantically skittered around everyone, trying to prevent every problem from becoming major. Unfortunately, most times they were unsuccessful.

In the midst of all the chaos, Detective Steve Bluestone sat where his desk should have been (having been replaced long ago by a gurney holding a dying Asian woman), trying to coordinate his defenses and what was left of his life. A shout across the crowded room brought him away from what he was doing.

"BLUESTONE! OVER HERE!"

Steve turned around, recognizing the smiling face of Morgan. However, he didn't recognize the older woman or the three gargoyles with him.

"Morgan! I thought you retired!"

"Me? Never! I'm a lifer, remember?"

Morgan embraced the young detective warmly, releasing him just in time to see Chavez and the three Detroit gargoyles enter the office. Now being more used to the sight of gargoyles, Steve relaxed a bit more.

"Let me guess ... you're here to find the clan, right? I can take you to them."

Dodge nodded. "So we're all together. Good. Let's go, Mustang."

The younger humanoid gargoyle nodded, then turned to Steve. "Could you take Buick with you? He'll need to know where to go."

"'He'll need to know?' Why? Don't you guys carry him with you?"

Mustang chuckled. "Not really, but he wasn't too happy when we left his Skylark behind."

Steve looked at the gargoyle questioningly, putting aside his doubts for the moment as he followed the rest of the group out the door.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

Steve Bluestone sat in an unfamiliar place: the passenger seat of his '79 Cadillac. He turned to look at his human companions in the back seat.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Bluestone," Chavez suggested. "Mustang said he was an excellent driver."

All eyes turned to Buick ... behind the wheel, driving the huge car like a professional. The spedometer kept a constant speed of near 95 mph, zipping through the devastated streets of the city toward the Aeire building. A street sign came up that Steve soon reconized.

"Buick, turn left!"

Buick growled, yipped once, then banked the car into an 80 mph left turn, throwing the human passengers against the right side of the car. Steve let out a nervous sound that almost seemed like a whimper.

The Cadillac screeched to a halt before the front doors of the Xanacorp world headquarters, nearly standing up on its nose as the wheels locked with the brakes.

Immediately, Steve leaped out of the passenger door, laying kisses on the sidewalk and screaming "THANK GOD!!!"

"Stow it, Detective!" Morgan looked up toward the sky, searching for their companions. "Where are they ...?"

Chavez also scanned the skies, suddenly spotting three gargoyle silhouettes. "There they are! Who's that with them?"

The three gargoyles descended into the light, as the first two to land were Mustang and Dodge. The third, though, made Chavez smile widely and laugh in recogniztion.

"I thought you'd be here!" Chavez ran around the side of the car, hugging Rosanna. "Your mother would never have missed the chance."

"Captain, nice to see you." Chavez let go of Rosanna, allowing her to shake Morgan's hand. "Morgan, as always, a pleasure. Mustang and Dodge told me everything that's going on."

She then noticed the doggoyle leaping out the driver's side window. She laughed. "And this must be Buick. How was his ..."

"Don't ... ask."

Feeling Steve probably didn't want to say anything else, Rosanna turned back to the new arrivals. "I'm sorry that Pontiac and Lexington aren't here to welcome you, as well, but they're out on a scouting mission with Sara Jasper and Griff."

"Jasper's here?" Chavez's face showed her slight distaste.

"Don't worry about her, Captain. She's different now."

Chavez was about to add in a "we'll see" when a brilliant flash erupted just in front of the Cadillac. Rosanna narrowed her eyes: she had seen this before.

"It's about time he showed up!"

The light finally dimmed, and where once stood a fiery ball of light, there was only two gargoyle silhouettes, one male and one female. The silhouettes slowly approached the light, until those parties present could clearly see who it was.

Finally it became painfully obvious: the flash was from the Phoenix Gate.

These two gargoyles were Brooklyn and Sata.