Chapter Text
Discliamer: Gargoyles belongs to Disney and Buena Vista Television. It is not mine.
The unmarked manila envelope lay on top of his coffee table in his small eighth floor apartment only partially buried underneath the glossy covers of magazines that he subscribed to but only read about a quarter of them.
Only a few evenings ago he had received a phone cal; nothing out of the ordinary about that, but the party on the other end of the line was someone that Detective Matt Bluestone had not expected to hear from ever again. Begging off his nightly patrol with his partner, Elisa Maza, Matt had laying aside his skepticism and most of his reluctance to accept what he had been told in the midst of that late night phone conversation, had shown up at the agreed upon rendezvous point.
Even now, with that envelope's contents still unread and the hard evidence lying flat and tinny against the silver and red tie of his suit, a part of him still was unwilling to accept the reality. He was IN.
This was not just a status symbol, although to certain members which would remain nameless for now, it probably was.
To Matt it was a quiet accomplishment. Oh, sure to most, the existence of this particular club was a matter of centuries of speculation and even more, if one wished to go there. The Illuminati existed, of that there was no doubt, all of his research and dogged determination that had made him such a good cop and now a good police detective had left him in little doubt about that. As he had told his partner Elisa Maza only three nights ago, there were conspiracy theories and then there were conspiracies, and there was more than a distinct difference between the two.
Like things that went bump in the night. Given his audience of one, she might be more inclined to go along with that line of reasoning, after all, she had her own secrets to keep. How could he hold onto to any anger at her for keeping the secrets of the existence of real life clan of gargoyles living in Manhattan to herself for so long?
Matt thought back to how that had come about, and felt a twinge of guilt at his nerve endings. He had done many things in his life that he regretted, and one of them was sitting up the big Gargoyle, Goliath for the fall at the bequest of his best friend from his days in the FBI, Mace Malone.
Goliath had not been happy at the revelation that he had been set up, but seeing the big guy in action, now that was something else, and if he lived to be a hundred years old Matt would never forget that moment onwards: fighting their way out of the deadly trap that had been set up for the gargoyle, and their narrow escape from said trap. Matt believed; of that there was no question.
** Elisa came out of the police precinct taking the steps two at a time, her black hair blown around her face in the brisk evening breeze. He had already brought the red and white car around from where they had parked and got out to open the door for her, and then got in on the passenger side.
"Any word?" he asked as she got in, nodded and looking both ways in the busy streets, pulled out into the midst of traffic.
"Nothing. No one is taking any bets, but it is expected that Xanatos will be out of jail in anything from three to six weeks."
She sighed. "I know he's rich, so rich that he could probably half of Manhattan and the Jersey shore if he put his mind to it.
"How do we know that he could do just that?" Matt asked with a wry twist to his mouth, mostly to keep her talking because he respected her commentary and crazier theories, maybe that was made them just a good team.
"Still, it's not fair that if he does the crime he should do the time, just like everyone else."
"Yeah, but, that's the problem with our justice department, today, rich bastards got the money and the influence to pull the strings from all sides."
She laughed and turned her head to give him an appraising look.
"You're in a mood. Is there anything you want to talk about?"
"You always could see right through me," Matt replied with a sigh as he reached up and combed his fingers through his wavy red hair.
"Maybe its something, maybe it's nothing, except about a week ago I received a strange envelope in the mail.
"Maybe it's fan mail, or it could be a death threat. Matt, you could be making a whole lot out of nothing. In this line of work, is it really that strange?" she asked.
"Not really," he shrugged. Except for the fact that everyone thinks I'm crazy."
"Matt, I'm willing to entertain just about any of your wilder theories from the existence of life on other planets to Big Brother is watching us,."
Elisa smiled to take the sting out of her tone. "If you don't mind my saying so."
Matt continued, "You look tired."
"It's these damn double shifts," Elisa sighed, "but you were saying?" she prompted.
"I believe I told you about the Illuminati, right?"
"Yes, let me think a bit, wasn't that like a secret society that has been pulling the strings behind almost every ruler, politician from the time of the Crusades?
"Probably even longer than that, but the scholarship from before that time is," Matt shrugged and through up his hands in a dramatic gesture, "is well, sketchy at best. But it depends on which source you consult."
"Of course," she replied."They control everything, from politics to high-finance.
"I am, for crying out loud, their symbol is even right on the back of the damn dollar bill."
Matt," Elisa said with a cautious tone in her voice.
"Okay, Okay, I know I am getting more than a little ahead of myself,. But what I am trying to get at is that I believe that the Illuminati is up to something. Something big."
"Let me get this straight, a secret society that's been around for centuries, is only now up to something big?" Elisa asked, mock-raising one black eyebrow up a fraction of an inch.
Matt sighed and nodded.
"I know how it sounds. But if a secret society cannot remain secret for very long if everyone knew about it?"
"And this envelope you got which you believe has something to do with this conspiracy theory?" Elisa continued to drive weaving in out of traffic as they talked, only partially concentrating on the conversation.
She had heard more than a few of Matt's wilder theories off and on since they had become partners and as much as she liked and admired Detective Bluestone, sometimes they did become more than a little trying and murky at times.
Realizing that she had best pay attention to her driving and the road, Elisa suddenly said. "Don't let me fall asleep at the wheel."
She yanked on the wheel and slid into the neighboring lane to avoid hitting a semi that had skidded on a patch of ice on the street.
"Are you okay?" Matt asked worried about Elisa's mental state, wondering if he should suggest that they pull over and switch places.
"Maybe you should let me drive," he added. "Good idea." She agreed and pulled out of traffic and onto a side street, and then up to the curb before bringing the car to a halt. She opened the door and got out, and then walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle.
Interlude
Elsewhere, from the glass enclosed room of that served both as a processing facility and place where the inmates could converse with those on the outside, David Xanatos waited. He had been waiting a long time, but then he was a patient man; and at last his patience was rewarded. A man wearing a long nondescript trench coat arrived and waiting for a nod, picked up the receiver on his side of the glass window. "Did you deliver the envelope as I requested?"
"Yeah." the other replied.
"I don't like your attitude.It is entirely too, well, nonchalant for the matters underway."
"Bully for ye, lad," the man in the trench coat replied. "I've been at this far longer than you have, and I believe that earns me a little leeway in proper deportment, wouldn't you agree?"
"No, I would not."
Without his consciously realizing it a hint of a threatening tone had crept into his voice. He did not analyze it in any special detail but if he had pressed to, Xanatos would have had to call it jealousy.
The man on the other end of the line was higher up in the hierarchy of their club than he was, and despite all of his native charm, skill, wealth, money, power and influence, his own ranking was still lower than that of the poor slob he had enlisted to perform the tasks under discussion. That would change, and quickly once the district attorney judge overseeing his case ruled to commute his sentence and he was released from jail.
In the meantime he had to rely on others. It rankled, but one simply had to make the best of a bad situation. "Do you believe that he will take the bait?"
"He will. I know him, you see. I know how he thinks and I know he will."
"Excellent," Xanatos replied, his tone now more mollified and even. "Proceed as planned."
"You got it boss," the man in the trench coat replied.
"You're the one footing the expenses.
"Please, don't remind me." And with that Xanatos ended the conversation and plunked the phone back into its cradle mounted to the wall and nodding to the guard on duty that he was ready to return to his cell.
Flashback
In the aftermath of the haze and smoke of ring of fire that was Phoenix Gate�s fading magic, one David Xanatos of Bar Harbor, Maine and his new bride, Fox, emerged onto the dark stretch of highway that led surrounded on all sides by a thick swatch of forest. Above, the moon was at a half sickle, clouds scudding along like a herd of fat grayish white sheep.
The timing could not have been more perfect for in the distance he could distinctly hear the staccato beat of hoof beats quickly approaching. He stole a quick glance at Fox and the two others of their party that had been transported along with them when the magic of the Gate activated: Demona and Goliath. The remaining member of the wedding party, his father, was still staring around in bemused wonder at their surroundings. His father's confusion and skepticism would have to wait; there was too much at stake to risk blowing it now. Finally what he had been waiting arrived.
A courier, and if his dress and mount were a good indication, not just any old courier, but a Norman on one of those heavy grey animals that in a matter of a few decades knights in the Middle Ages would use to joust with heavily padded lances; but that was still in the future, what mattered was the present moment. The courier traveled along at a good clip, heavily hooded against the brisk evening breeze and what was even more important to Xanatos'way of thinking, was the patchwork quartered embroidered royal seal on the left sleeve of his tunic.
Just then the small group all heard a scuffle and the sound of tearing branches and booted feet trampling through the thick ground cover of the forest broke the stillness of the night. The man sawed on the reins and leaned almost too far to one side, nearly toppling from his saddle as a flurry of arrows whizzed through the air and nearly took him point blank in the chest. Nodding to Fox, that was their cue, and they went into action, Xanatos hit several of the brigands. In the back of his mind he thought, 'Might as well get into character as well as into the lingo of the time period. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, right?'
Chopping at them with the flat of his hand, and upon contact their hands snapped back. Weaving and dodging he avoided several return blows and then out of the corner of his eye, he saw another smaller, meaner looking brigand attempting to sneak up on him with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.
He altered his stance, balancing on one leg and quick as a striking snake kicked out at the brigand and quickly knocked him out of the contest. After it was all over, Fox smiled, showing all of her sharp teeth and the gleam in her eyes was not merely a reflection of the glimmer of moonlight on the ground.
"Thank you, David." She paused and then added. "I am having a simply marvelous time."
The Norman courier got up, dizzily shaking his head as he recovered his wind and his voice to speak.
"I thank Ye, kind strangers, though verily thou art strangers to these parts. I have little to offer in return for saving my life, except my thanks and a gold sovereign coin."
The man held out a thick golden coin and Xanatos with a practiced courtly bow accepted the coin and turned it over and over in his palm before he pocketed and reaching out one hand helped the Norman courier to his feet.
The corurier looked around askance at the group but was too polite to inquire further into their business. "Come hither to Castle Wyvern, it lies yonder, and there you will find both food, drink and a warm fire.":
"Sounds good to me," Xanatos replied.
"David, was all of this," his father gestured around at their surroundings and then turned back once more to regard his son with mingled air and wonder. "Really necessary?"
"There are reasons for everything I do, Pop," his son replied. "You will see, after this is all over, that I really am a self-made man."
Present Day The party was in full swing, one of those high-society wheeling and dealing affairs which required both black-ties, and tight security measures. With his Fox on his arm, David Xanatos made an entrance, chatting up both potential business opportunities and potential rivals; it never hurt to be careful, after all.
The full twenty piece band had struck up a medley of songs from the era of the big-bands and making his excuses to the couple of bankers, he ledFox onto the dancer floor, joined slowly by other couples. Feeling a presence at his side, he looked up to see a short, stocky man wearing a three piece tan suit and a pin on his own tie that matched the one on his own. The significance of that meeting was not lost on either of the men, and making his excuses to Fox, he stepped away to join the shorter man in alcove off of the main ballroom floor. "21," the shorter man announced.
"86", Xanatos replied.
"If you don't mind my saying so," the man identified only by the number twenty one, added
"Don't you think it might be a little dangerous to wear that symbol so openly?"
"I rather enjoy flirting with danger from time to time, if you must know." "
Oh, trust me, we do know, which is one of the main reasons that the council held out so long about whether or not to sanction your membership, Mr. Xanatos."
"This meeting was not of my choosing, but the message must be conveyed. It is time. Be ready, for whatever may come next."
"Message received and acknowledged." Xanatos nodded and reached out to shake the other man's hand.
"Enjoy the rest of evening," the other added and left as quickly as he had arrived. Conclusion
"Figures it would have something to do with the Gargoyles," Matt sighed as he sat back in his chair and let the glossy 8 x 10 photographs slip out of his grasp and fall to the floor.
He closed his eyes and reached up to rub his temples with his hands. "Just how am I going t break this to Elisa, but I can't in good conscience hide this from her."
"Maybe that first brush was a test and maybe Mace really did pull the proverbial wool over my eyes, but this, this is the last straw." Matt muttered under his breath and thrust his body forward in one swift movement and picked up the scattered photographs. In the back of his mind he could not help thinking as much of a personal insult
Mace's supposed betrayal of his friendship and trust was, the Manhattan clan of gargoyles did not deserve any of what was about to befall them. They had done more to protect the citizens of this city than anyone knew or cared to give them credit for, and now the Illuminati, a bunch of power-hungry, crazy bastards, and even young upstarts if his suspicions about David Xanatos were correct, were gunning for them.
It really was not fair, and then and there, with his guts twisting up inside of him and his blood pressure most likely spiking upwards, Matt Bluestone made a decision: no matter what else happened in the coming days or weeks, or however long it took, he had chosen which side he was on,; firmly in the camp of Elisa Maza and Manhattan Gargoyles. It may not have been the wisest course he could have chosen, but he was committed to it now, and as he resumed his seat in his chair,
Matt realized with some surprise that he could live with it.