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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.]

"Dusk to Dawn"

----Chapter 1----

Max E. Roper Interstate Park

Lincoln, Nebraska

December 1st, 2027

5:00 P.M.

A young man with flaming red hair, and a pair of red, curved tattoos beneath his eyes, wearing a rumpled, navy blue business suit, watched the sun sink beneath the horizon, fidgeting with impatience. Figuring that his traveling companions ought to waking up any minute now, he fished the keys out of his pocket, and walked backed to the van. 'Truth be told, it wasn't so bad out here,' he thought, but he wanted to get back on the road and drop them off already. The sooner they were at the base, the sooner that he could get back to Tseng's squad.

Grinning slightly, he opened the door, already formulating what he was going to say to them, but was nearly blown back off his feet by the volume of four loud roars echoing out of the confined, soundproofed cabin. Wincing, he tried again to climb in, once the sounds had ceased.

His eyes widened as he saw the layer of brittle stone shards lying on the floor of his van, and he groaned and said, "Nonono, this ain't gonna work, folks," then reached into the center console and pulled out a heavy-duty shopvac, handing it to the nearest one, Elayne. "I ain't cleaning that up. I want this shit gone before we get rolling, yo?"

Elayne smiled at him and said, over the din of the shopvac as she began to work, "Hey, sorry about the mess, man. Just part of the territory, y'know?"

Reno grimaced again as he pushed a few stray shards off his seat, tossing them in the back, then sat down and leaned his head against the headrest, glancing at the Gargoyle woman. He'd grown to like her a little, certainly more so than the others. Trent had been too moody last night to be much fun, not surprisingly, since he'd had the shit kicked out of him. Branson and 'Seph had taken the back row of seats, and mostly kept to themselves, whispering quietly back and forth the whole night. Elayne was the only one that had really taken the time to try to get to know him, even though she'd been hurting, too.

He grinned as he watched Elayne lean over the console, her ass sticking straight up in the air as she sucked up the fragments she could reach, her tail swaying to a beat that only she could hear. If she'd been human, well, they'd have gotten a hotel room last night, he didn't doubt that. 'Too bad,' he thought, 'but I guess I like my own species more. 'sides, she'd probably break me if I tried anything. Better her than the Beast back there, tho'.'

With a casual flick of the wrist, she tossed the shopvac over to Trent, who scooped it out of the air with a sweeping gesture, then hopped back into the passenger seat, asking Reno, "So, Hank, get any sleep while we were out? Trent or I could take the wheel, if you want some shut-eye."

His eyes narrowed as his voice fell a little, and he replied, "Don't call me Hank. And, yeah, I got a snooze in. Doncha worry 'bout me none, yo?"

He shouted back without looking, "Pick up the pace! We gotta get moving if we're gonna get to your new digs tonight! We're gonna have to take it nice and slow through the N.A.N., so we gotta get to it."

The vacuum passed back to Persephone, and she began to work, telling Branson quietly, "Don't worry, I'll get this. You had a rough enough night last night."

With a faint smile, he laid back against the seat. It seemed to him that her experiences hadn't changed who she was, fundamentally. He wouldn't have been surprised or disappointed if they had, given what she'd told him of her visions. He would have been sad, but understanding, if she had ended up as damaged as Trent after witnessing the coming of the Shadows.

Shaking himself from his maudlin contemplations, he watched her work. She knelt on the floor, but still only had a little clearance to the roof, her outsized body simply not made for the close confines of the van.

His heart ached, and he'd have preferred nothing more right now than to fly away with her. After the trauma of the last few days, he could only guess that she could use some comfort, and he knew that he certainly could. She had said nothing of it, though, beyond telling him of her fear that he had died in the battle... and that kiss, of course.

He smiled ruefully as he remembered the feel of her lips against his, the strength of her embrace, the softness of her breasts pressing into him...

Knowing her background, though, he wanted her to take the next step, rather than accidentally make her feel that he was 'pushing himself on her'. It felt odd to his sensibilities, for his instincts told him that they should have pleasured one another, celebrating the fact that they had both survived their trials, yet he felt that he would have hurt her if he had done so. His mind whirled as he tried to solve the conflict between his upbringing and his conscience.

Besides, regardless of what they might want to do, he was still the leader of the clan, for better or for worse, and he was the one that they looked to for guidance. He could hardly abandon them in this time of need, no matter what his heart asked... no, demanded of him.

'Seph finished collecting the last of the shards, then handed the much heavier vacuum up to the front of the van before turning to squeeze herself back into the much-too-small seat she'd taken. She'd had to go to the bench in the back, because the two middle seats were almost like child's car seats to her. With the prodigious width of her hips, she would not even been able to clear the arms unless she folded them up, first.

This really didn't bother her too much, though. She'd wanted to talk in relative private with Branson, anyway, and it allowed Trent and Elayne to stay closer together. 'Elayne certainly seems to have hit it off with Reno,' she mused, pleased that the man was willing to trust them so much. Granted, he was under orders from the President, which counted for an awful lot, but she feared that it would not have been enough for many Humans.

Seeing that his vehicle was in proper order, Reno slid his display goggles down over his pale, almost luminously blue eyes, activating his GPS tracking program as he kicked on the Ram's engine, pulling out of the park's lot. Technically speaking, he figured he should have found a campground, but with the government plates he'd put on in Cedar Rapids, no one was going to mess with them.

He pulled onto I-180, then merged into I-80, his map telling him that it was the most direct route to his destination. After he had fixed himself into traffic, he spoke up, telling his passengers, "Okay, folks, here's the real deal. We're gonna be heading through Denver on our way. We'll be hitting the N.A.N. border here right soon, and that's where things are gonna get goddamn tricky."

'Seph spoke up from the back, her expression puzzled. "Call me an idiot, but... what's the N.A.N.? Colorado get renamed or something?"

Branson laid a hand on her leg and sighed, saying, "I'll get this, Reno. It's my fault, 'Seph, I didn't even think about it when I was giving you that run-down. About twelve years ago, a man calling himself David Howling Coyote... to be honest, I don't even know what he did. But, he freaked out the crew of a military base out in New Mexico."

He grinned at her as he spoke, a faintly mirthful tone entering his voice, "This sounds more like your area of expertise, but rumor has it that bullets just went right through him, like he wasn't even there. He managed, with some more of his 'ghostdancers', as he called them, and the help of a few Mutates he'd recruited, to stage a rebellion."

Reno piped up, adding his own view to the story, "He's lucky that the Congress was feeling guilty for how they'd been treating the Injuns. If we'd gone full out on him... well, I don't think he could Ghostdance a LAW, that's for damn sure. We lost half the country to that asshole before the Treaty of Denver got through."

Branson frowned at the brash young man, then replied, "Be that as it may, it was a deal the U.S. government found equitable, and if you'd pushed it, there would have been a war. As it is, you ended up with the Native American Nations staying reasonably friendly."

Reno had to concede the point, saying, "Well, I guess. It makes the crossing a lot easier, that's for damn sure."

Persephone thought about this for a moment, then recognized something that didn't seem to add up. "Okay, so if there's some rebel state squatting on the West Coast... where, exactly, are we going? Don't the N.A.N. control the bases in their territory?"

Reno grinned below his goggles and said, "You got the Prez to thank for that, yo? She did some sweet-talking with their leadership, and managed to get them to surplus one of 'em on the cheap. Irritating, having to buy back our own place, but whatever."

Trent shook his head as he cradled his damaged sword, then asked, "Yeah, but where is it? Yeh never said, Reno."

His grin widening, Reno responded as he cut into another lane, "C'mon, folks. You're supposed to be so amazing an' all, figure it out. Where better to hide unknown things that fly 'round in the middle of the night, yo?"

Branson frowned, wrinkling his forehead, and Trent glanced at the young man, trying to think of what he knew of the military. Elayne and 'Seph instantly figured it out, speaking at the same time, grins on their faces. "Area 51!"

Reno laughed and nodded, giving them a thumbs up as he said, "Give the girls a prize. Just call me Peter Pan, 'cuz y'all are on the road to Neverland. The Injuns weren't using it for nothin', so they let us have it for the Patrol. All we gotta do is let them use it if they need it for something, and put up with them providin' half the damned Guard force."

---

A few feet away, in the left-hand lane, a '67 Mustang convertible cruised down the road, its engine purring as it rolled along, barely even making an effort, despite the fact that its driver was speeding. Riggs turned to his leader and said, "Look, I know ye're on a wee bit of a maddy about last night, and rightly so. But, aren't ye takin' things a bit too seriously?"

The Hunter lay in the passenger seat, his eyes closed as the wind blew his hair around. "My ancestors fought with honor. I fought with honor. They're dead, I won't be fighting anytime right soon, and those monsters still stride God's green earth. I'm thinking that it's getting to be about time to take it to their level, ye follow?"

Riggs shifted uncomfortably in his seat, worried about the zeal he heard in his friend's voice. "Is it worth losin' yeself into the bargain, lad? I know what yer mither would tell ye, but given as she's not here ta say it, I'll be doin' it. Finlay, lad, yer family has stayed true to their beliefs all these years. It's not fer ye to be puttin' them aside. Leastaways not fer anythin' short of the Demon herself."

Finlay Canmore, or Julius Cameron as he was known to the world, felt at the burn on his chest, the skin still tender and livid beneath his silk shirt. "Riggs, I know what ye're saying, and it pains me to even consider breaking with our age-old traditions. Ye're not the one what got zapped like a Hot Pocket, though. I don't think I can take that witch, Riggs, not in a straight-up fight."

Riggs felt his heart sink, but refused to let his dismay show as he tried to cheer his companion, snorting in apparent disgust, "Bollocks, Finlay. Ye had her, 'til she whipped out her magery on ye. Ye'll jigger up somethin' to keep that from happenin' again, I'm bettin'. Snap yeself out of this black mood, lad. Jest a little bit of a setback, eh?"

Finlay slammed his fist on the armrest, punctuating his response. "Ye can't fight witchcraft without more witchcraft, and I'll be damned 'afore I lowered myself to that particular depth, even if I could. Nay, Riggs, it'll have to be this way, and there's aught to be done for it 'cept to do it. Besides, it's not as if there'll be any people harmed this way."

Riggs sighed heavily as he ducked around a motorcycle, sliding back into the fast lane, and said, "Aye, there is that. Raisin' anither bunch of sellswords would be a job o' work, and that's the truth. I'm jest not so sure that ye're right about this. Ye figure it wrong, lad, and ye'll be killin' yer own kind. Not even the Gargoyles do that. Ye'll be condemnin' yerself to the deepest pit of Hell, ye will."

Remaining silent for a moment, Finlay pondered that for a moment, then spoke softly, as though to himself, "That's a risk I'm willing to take. Ye want out, Alastair, I'll not be stopping ye, though I'll not deny that my efforts will be diminished be your absence. All I know is that this has got to be done. Maybe She's not the Demon, but it'll still put the fear of God into the rest of Her mongrel kin."

Riggs shook his head, figuring that his friend's mind was already made up. He glanced at the black van to his right, saw that it wanted to pull into his lane to get on the I-76. They slid around each other, swapping positions so that he could stay on the I-80. Pointing at it, he said, "Finlay, is it jest me, or is that thing ridin' awful low? Wonder what they got it loaded down with, eh?"

Finlay opened his eyes to look at it, taking in its make, the tinted windows, and the federal plate on its rear bumper and said, "Probably nothing we need to be worrying about. Like as not, they're just hauling records around or some such. Wake me when we get to Cheyenne, will ye? I'm thinking that I need to be getting some shut-eye."

---

Elayne glanced in the mirror, then spun in her seat, shouting, "Check three! Get a good look at that Mustang, wow! I've never seen one of 'em actually on the road before. Those things are wicked cool, neh?"

Branson brought his head up from 'Seph's shoulder to look at the vehicle, smiling a little ruefully. In his years, he'd learned many useful skills, but driving was not one of them. Still, he could admire the car's smooth lines, the way it cut through the air.

After a few moments, the convertible slid out of their view, and Elayne leaned back into her seat with a sigh, still smiling. "I wonder whose car that was. Didja see that guy in the passenger seat? He looked like a movie star or something, I swear I've seen him around somewhere."

Trent set his sword down and unbuckled himself, kneeling behind the center console to talk with Elayne and Reno. He knew that he was working himself into a black mood, his mind stubbornly returning to the last night. He kept reliving that hammer-strike. He had tried not to show it, but if he hadn't twisted and rolled with the blow, it would have killed him, he was certain of it. Of course, you couldn't tell it to look at him now, except for the hole in his shirt and coat, but it still rankled his pride.

Trent also found himself reconsidering his decision. On one hand, he certainly felt the need to redress the debt that they owed to the President and her men, that went without saying. At the same time, though he knew that he had barely survived his last stint in the military. Physically, he was fine, something that really couldn't be said for many of his mates, but could his mind take those stresses again, without snapping altogether?

Elayne laid a dark-skinned hand on his shoulder as she turned back to look at him, a knowing expression on her face, "C'mon, fuzzface, cheer up. You're worried about the Patrol, right?"

He nodded solemnly, his pale blue eyes catching the freeway lights. She moved her hand up to his face, cradling his elongated lower jaw, as she replied, "Don't sweat it, Trent. One thing's different now. I'm here for you. You and me, we're a team, right?"

Leaning his muzzle against her slightly roughened hand, his lips curled into a tight smile as he said, "I know, love. I don't know what I'd be without yeh, but I'm none too keen to find out. Besides, someone's got to keep an eye on 'Seph, eh?"

She glanced back, seeing the two of them leaning together, eyes closed as they whispered to each other, and chuckled, saying quietly, "Yeah, like that's a hard task, huh? Tell ya what, bro, here's the plan. You and me, we have got to get that girl to loosen up. Hell, I want a crack at her."

Trent grinned at her, the shadows under his eyes lifting as he saw the mixture of impatience and amusement on her face, and on a sudden whim, he leaned forward and pulled her into a passionate, slightly rough kiss.

Reno sighed and hunched over the wheel a little more. His briefing had talked about the differences between Human and Gargoyle culture, but jeez! It was all he could do to stay in his lane as images of Elayne and 'Seph writhed in his mind, their naked bod... 'Hold on, there, cowboy!' he thought to himself, driving the vision out of his mind.

He tried his usual means of calming himself, wondering what his usual partner, Rude, would do in this situation. Probably stare at Elayne until she shut up, but that was a luxury he could ill afford right now.

He was startled to see Elayne looking at him, her eyes wide with concern. She was saying, " - rth to Reno! Hellllo? Anyone in there?"

Keeping the car under control despite his shock, he nodded and said, "Yah, just thinkin' about some stuff, yo? We're cool, don't shit yourself. I'm gonna stop when we get into Denver, stretch my legs a lil', catch some air."

Persephone cradled Branson to her side, her massively muscled arm wrapped around his chest protectively as she told him about her visions. Right now, she was telling him about her vision of the future, having already told him of the specter of the past. She'd only painted that one in broad strokes, though, neglecting to mention exactly how Alfrior had nursed Siegfried back to health.

If Branson had noticed the omission, he failed to speak up about it, apparently content to let her spin her tales. He seemed engrossed by her description of the Battle of Luna's Shadow, as she had begun to call it. She noted that he seemed to be a little awestruck by Scorch's bravery and dedication in the battle.

Elayne saw a sign indicated that they were entering Denver city limits and the edge of N.A.N. territory, but they were waved through the checkpoints without even a cursory inspection, though the cars ahead of them were picked over thoroughly. With a shrug, she asked, "Y'know, you're acting awfully quiet, Reno. What's on your mind?"

The youthful man frowned, his eyes shielded by his goggles, but the flesh around them tightened as he narrowed his eyes, replying, "Just gettin' closer than I'd like to my old stompin' grounds. I ran away from home, y'know, to get away from the bitch that popped me out, and my bastard of a father wasn't anythin' too special, either."

Elayne shuddered in her seat, reminded all too much of the reason she left home, and said, "Hey, I'm really sorry to hear that, man. It's not that far anymore, you'll be able to get outta here soon enough, right?"

He nodded, scanning for a gas station as he replied, "Yeah, I guess. It's probably nothin', but I always get the crawls when I come around this way. Hair on the back of my neck, yo? Ya know the feelin', I bet."

Both Trent and Elayne nodded, Trent saying, "To me, that sounds like a soldier's sense of danger. If yeh get that around here, you're right to be worried. Hope we don't run into mummy-dearest, yeah?"

Elayne leaned over and laid a hand on Reno's shoulder, causing him to stiffen in his seat, and asked with concern, "Your whole family wasn't that bad, right? There had to have been somebody who loved you. It'd be too sad to even think about, otherwise."

Reno slid out from under her hand as he pulled into a 7-11, burning speed rapidly enough that his brakes squealed, and told her, "Well, my older brother wasn't too bad. He took me under his wing, but when he dusted outta town, well... I guess I figured it was time for me to get the fuck outta there, yo?"

Sighing softly, Elayne moved her hand back to curl her arm around Trent's neck as Reno hopped out of the van, closing the door with a slam. "Fate is one cruel gal, huh, Trent? He seems like he's trying to be a nice guy, neh? Why'd he have to be hurt like that?"

Trent shook his head sadly, sympathizing with the youth. From what he knew of the Secret Service, Reno must have moved quick after he left home, establishing himself in the police somewhere. Trent figured Reno couldn't be more than 25, so he must have been absolutely brilliant to make his mark this quickly.

'Seph smiled down at Branson, feeling the way his body nestled against her side. She'd wanted to make sure that he knew as many of the details of her visions as possible, since she hadn't been able to recover her data before they left, and so for all she knew, her notes were destroyed. For that matter, it was entirely possible that her tomes had been destroyed, too.

She'd learned one thing, though in her month with Chicago Clan. Regardless of what might or might not be left of their Castle, what was truly important was that her Clanmates stood with her. 'Home is where the heart is' had turned out to be true, after all.

Branson had listened intently to the whole sad tale without judging or brushing her off, his leaf-like eyes watching her closely as she had gestured to sketch out the Battle. She hadn't realized how technically apt he was, either. Perhaps he wasn't the technician that Elayne was, but he had asked some rather pointed questions about details of the science of the robots and ships they had used.

For his part, Branson had told her of the trivialities that occurred during her trance, trying to restore some measure of normality to this distinctly disturbing set of circumstances. He neglected to mention the woodcarving he had been working on, though, which he still had in his pocket, waiting for just the right moment to give it to her.

He didn't just tell her of business banalities and domestic concerns, however. He also told her, quietly, but quite honestly, of what he had felt during her trance. He held nothing back, and by the time he had finished his tale, she had tears running freely down her face.

She had known that Branson had felt for her, but she hadn't realized the depths of his caring. Somehow, he'd managed to shield his rawest feelings from her, her... empathic sense only detecting his concern for her as a sister. Now that her had bared his soul to her, she understood how he was being torn apart by desire, but also respect and concern.

With a rueful smile, 'Seph admitted to herself that she had been denying her own feelings for the handsome male. Realization struck her suddenly as she began to understand the harm she had done to both of them by denying him.

Her hand reached down under Branson's butt, and he looked at her, his eyes wide, a curious expression on his face. With a smile, she lifted him effortlessly, laying back along the bench seat, pulling him up her body to bring his face level with hers. Her voice heavy with mixed emotion, she whispered to him, "Branson... open your heart to me. You don't have to hold back any longer."

He closed his eyes, mouthing the words, 'Thank you,' before leaning into her, wrapping his arms around the stone-hard, yet warm and silken, muscles of her neck, pressing the lips of his beak against hers. She relaxed and placed a hand behind his head, pressing him against her body.

Elayne glanced in the mirror, then turned silently, tapping Trent on the shoulder and pointing at the embracing Gargoyles. She over to his ear and whispered, "Maybe they won't need our help, huh?"

Trent just grinned at her, his expression mirthful, and soundlessly cheered the two of them. Near as he was concerned, those two needed each other, and he was pleased to see them acknowledge the fact.

'Seph heard the sound of a door opening, but dismissed it, reveling in the feeling of Branson's passionate embrace. The door closed again, and she heard Elayne say thanks, before hearing a sharp inhalation. She tensed as she heard Reno shout, "Hey! No makin' out in the back of my fuckin' car! Break it up!"

Branson began to pull from her, but Persephone stiffened her arm, blocking his progress, and stared at the youth, rage burning in the earthen depths of her eyes as she began to rise, slowly unfurling her wings. She snarled, her voice resonant with anger, "Listen here, bub. Any other time, I'd be willing to work with you. But, not now. Not here."

Reno stalked towards her, meeting her gaze with nary a flinch, and shoved a tray towards her, growling, "If I ain't gettin' any, you two sure as hell ain't," then bellowed with his full volume, "NOW, SIT YER ASS DOWN ON THAT SEAT AND DRINK YER GAWDDAMN SLURPEE!"

Branson nearly jumped out of her arms, sliding onto the bench next to her as she took the tray, falling back into the seat with a stunned look on her face, never having expected such anger from the young man.

----Chapter II----

Air Force Test Center, Detachment 3

Lincoln County, Nevada

December 2nd, 2027

2:34 A.M.

The escort buggies guided Reno towards a long, low building just west of the base's main runway, one in front, one behind. While most of the base had been mothballed for fifteen years, security was still just as tight as it once was.

'Seph smiled, thinking about the phone call they had received on the way here, cheered to know that Logan had found the other half of his self. Perhaps this world needed to brace itself for another time of darkness, but there were still pinpoints of light sparking into being. With a soft sigh, she hugged Branson tightly to her side, not wanting to provoke Reno's wrath again, as they pulled up alongside the headquarters building.

One of the Guard troopers got out of her buggy, then tapped on Reno's window. He rolled it down, and the Guardswoman informed him, "This is the DP HQ building. Garage is down thataway, if you and your wards would step out of the vehicle, we'll take care of it for you."

Reno gave her a thumbs up and an easy grin, then turned back to tell the Gargoyles, "You heard the woman. Let's roll out!"

Doors popped open as Reno, Trent, and Elayne launched themselves from the van. Elayne oohed and aahed over the chance to finally see the legendary Area 51 in person, asking the Guardswoman, "So, where do you guys keep the aliens? I wanna go see 'em!"

The Guardswoman smiled indulgently and told her, "I'm afraid I can neither confirm nor deny those rumors, ma'am. "

'Seph chuckled from inside the vehicle, then turned to Branson, placing a kiss on the spot where his beak emerged from his cheek, smiling at him. She gestured towards the nearest door and asked, "Shall we, my love?"

He had started to rise with her gesture, but froze as she spoke those simple, honest words. His eyes began to glow softly in the darkness of the van's cabin, his face lit up by a beatific smile. She understood! He dropped to one knee in front of her and took her hand, his voice trembling as he asked, "You are saying those words of your own free will, right? You aren't just trying to make me happy? Which you've done very well, I might add."

She shook her head, laying her other hand on top of his, as she told him, "No, Branson. I do want to make you happy, but only because I've released how dear you've become to me. Between your story today and the battle last night, I've realized that I need you... as much as I think you need me."

Reno poked his head into the van to see what was taking those two so long, and when he saw that they were getting all sappy again, he considered breaking it up like he had the last time. But, judging by the way Branson's eyes were glowing, and the look on 'Seph's face, he figured that he'd probably be in for an ass-whooping of Biblical proportions if he tried it.

Branson nodded, then stood, telling her as he turned for the door, never noticing that Reno had watched them, "I do need you. I've spent the last month feeling like my soul'd been yanked out. Had you been anyone but who you are, I'd have made my feelings clear long before, but I wanted to be mindful of your nature, too."

'Seph rose into a low crouch, not wanting to bash her horns into the van's ceiling, and followed him out the side hatch, telling him, "I know. This must have been terrible for you. It means so much to me that you've held out this long. It shows me how much you must respect me. I vow, from this night forward, that you will never need to hide your feelings for me, your desire, ever again."

Ignoring Reno's glare, Branson grinned widely and placed an arm around 'Seph's waist, a distinct spring in his step. In response, 'Seph wrapped her tail around his waist, and the two of them began to walk together, somehow managing to retain a good deal of their usual grace as the followed the young man.

When they reached the single door of the HQ building, they saw that Trent and Elayne were waiting for them, knowing smiles on their faces... Reno ducked in ahead of them, moving at a jog, and with a sigh, 'Seph released Branson, opening the door for him, saying, "After you, Bran."

He nodded, then entered, and the others followed in behind him. 'Seph entered last, noting with approval that the door was tall enough for her to enter without stooping or feeling claustrophobic.

Within was a reception room that wouldn't have looked out of place in any well-appointed corporate office. The walls and ceiling were a light beige, the carpet an earthen brown, with pictures of various futuristic looking aircraft tacked to the walls. 'Seph noticed with amusement that the infamous "Aurora" spy-plane was nowhere to be seen.

To her surprise, there were six unfamiliar figures waiting for them, and four of them, at least, were Gargoyles!

Sitting on the cherry-wood desk in the rear of the entryway were two females, and 'Seph figured that they were mother and daughter, judging by the close similarity in features, despite the fact that the daughter had a short beak, much like Branson's.

The older female had a deep, emerald-like skin tone, a mane of black hair cascading from her scalp, tied back in a topknot. She wore a short-sleeved happi coat, revealing the white, silken sleeves of her undershirt, baring her long, shapely legs. Her arms and chest were concealed by the loose garment, but she seemed to have an exceptionally slender build. A pair of short horns rose from her brows about two inches, and another pair swept upwards from her scalp. A pair of scabbards was thrust into the sash of her gown, one much shorter than the other, but both were deeply curved. She raised a hand in greeting to them.

The younger female had deep red skin, the color of a ripe cherry, and had a similar build to her mother, though the long, loose tunic that she wore was cut low in front, revealing a noticeably fuller bust. Her hair was loose, cascading in curls down her back, as dark as night itself. She wore a single sword-sheath at her hip, in the Western style. Her head tilted at an angle, she looked at the newcomers with curiosity.

Standing directly in front of the door was an impressively tall, olive-skinned male, though he still stood half a foot shorter than 'Seph. He stood with his arms crossed, a pair of sunglasses concealing his eyes, and he wore what looked like a standard Army B.D.U., modified for his tail and wings, but his arms were thick and muscular. His jet-black hair was bushy, but cut to shoulder length, and seemed slightly coifed, as though accustomed to resting within a helmet. A cigar hung from his prominent beak, a long lever-action rifle rested on his back, and 'Seph couldn't shake the feeling that he was related to the other two, though the resemblance wasn't as close. Perhaps he took after his father?

The fourth Gargoyle, another male, though much smaller than the other, stood to one side, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants on account of the unusual structure of his wings, connected to him all the way down his sides. He was bald, though he didn't appear that old, and his eyes were wide with wonderment at the newcomers, a broad grin on his lantern-jawed face. His skin was a khaki tone, and 'Seph suspected that he would be nearly invisible in the right terrain.

Another... figure stood near the uniformed Gargoyle. He seemed to be one of them, anyway. His skin was a rich burgundy tone that 'Seph found quite striking, what she could see of it, anyway. The majority of his small, lithe body was covered in black-anodized metal plates and segments, including much of his skull and scalp, both arms, and his left leg, and his wings seemed to be totally synthetic, a silvery mylar-like fabric draped between black spines. One of his eyes was also artificial, glowing a soft cathode white, but when 'Seph looked closely, she could see faint specks of green and red dancing within its surface.

The final figure was impossible to identify, its body covered in a heavy, azure robe with a wide, enveloping hood, several shades lighter than 'Seph's skin. The figure stood only an inch or two shorter than the soldier, but it was impossible to tell any further details.

The soldier watched them closely, not with hostility, just curiosity. 'Seph had the strange feeling that he was watching Branson more closely than the rest of her clan. The robed figure, however, stepped closer, raising its arms to reveal slender, dexterous hands covered in a pair of leather gloves.

As it approached Branson, it reached up and threw back its hood, revealing a comely, beaked face, sheathed in brick red skin, that 'Seph instantly recognized as the other side of the soldier's lineage. A pair of long, narrow horns corralled the wild spray of his pure white hair, just as unruly as hers. Her eyes, however, were drawn to the silvery tattoos on his face - they looked like Scorch's! The pattern was different, but the technique seemed identical.

His eyes twinkled with apparent happiness, and he dashed across the last few feet, wrapping his arms around Branson, thumping him softly on the back. Branson began to laugh, and wrapped a wing around the older Gargoyle. The ruddy-skinned male asked, "How you doing, you old scoundrel? It's so good to see you!"

Branson grinned at him and replied, "Oh, same old, same old. Got my Castle shot out from under me again, you know how it goes."

The male released Branson, shaking his head and clicking his tongue in apparent disappointment, then moved over to clasp Elayne's arm, asking, "And, how about you, Elayne? You still hanging around with this loser?" pointing a thumb back at Branson.

Branson stuck out his tongue at them as Elayne scruffled the male's white mane, smiling as she said, "Hey, somebody's got to keep an eye on this lamer, neh? You know how he can be."

Branson's face flushed, though his voice was filled with a good-natured bravado as he replied, "Hey, I resemble that remark!"

Trent stepped up, next to Elayne, and smiled at the good-natured male, commenting, "And, who keeps an eye on yeh, love? Give credit where it's due, yeah?"

Elayne leaned into him, looking up into his eyes, and the ruddy male chuckled as he turned to the final newcomer. He looked 'Seph up and down, his eyes widening as he asked, "Hellllo, what have we here? Welcome, I'm Brooklyn, commander of the Dawn Patrol. And, who might you be?"

'Seph extended her hand to him, charmed by his easy-going nature, though she got the impression that there was more to him than he showed. She felt a darkness in him, much like she did from Trent. He reached to grasp her forearm, and she returned the gesture, feeling a surprising strength in his slim build. "My name is Persephone."

He shifted his grip, then raised her arm, brushing the back of her hand with his lips. "Welcome to our home-away-from-home, Persephone."

Branson moved in between them, a lopsided grin forming on his beak as he fell into the role of the jealous rogue, telling his friend, "All right, all right, you old smoothie. Go easy, will you?"

'Seph noticed the older Gargoyle woman shaking her head slowly, her lips turned up in a hint of a smile. Brooklyn released her hand and took a step back, turning to spread his arm in a wide gesture, introducing each of the others in turn. "Branson, Elayne, you already know my crew, of course."

His hand brushed the soldier's shoulder as he said, "Meet my son, Nashville. He's grown a little since you were around, huh?"

Elayne smiled at him, looking him over, and said, "Hey, you turned out pretty good, kid! You got your dad's looks!"

The two males beamed at her, then Brooklyn swept his hand in the direction of the small, khaki-colored male, and declared, "C'mon on up here, bro. Lexington and I go way back, eh, Lex?"

Lex walked over with a graceful, feline gait, waving to the newcomers as he moved. His voice was high, as expected, but had a soft, lyric quality. "Hi, guys. How've you been, Branson? Keepin' him honest, Elayne?"

'Seph noticed Reno leaning against the room's back wall, his goggles pushed up to his forehead. He seemed to be watching them closely, but intentionally keeping his distance.

Brooklyn motioned to the cyborg Gargoyle, who stepped forward, bowing to Branson and company. 'Seph's sensitive ears could just make out a low hum of hydraulics as he moved. His pace was steady, but jerky somehow, which she assumed was due to his artificial leg. Before either he or Brooklyn could speak, 'Seph held up a hand in salute and said, "Hail, Sir Lancelot."

Brooklyn raised an eyebrow, but the cyborg nodded, then spoke in an inflectionless, synthesized-sounding voice. "That would be the name once given to this body. However, we are now called Elgee. We are pleased to finally meet with you and your kin in person."

As Elgee stepped back, watching the newcomers carefully, Brooklyn's hand swept towards the two females, and he beckoned them to come forward. The younger of the two hopped to her talons, and ran up with a light, hopping step, barely seeming to touch the ground. The older one slid to the ground more cautiously, walking with the stately grace of a queen.

Brooklyn placed his hands on the younger female's shoulders, an expression of pride on his face. The older female stood beside him, placing her arm around his slender waist. He spoke with undisguised pleasure, "And, saving the best for last, meet my daughter, Tachi, and my beloved mate, Katana."

They separated for a moment, Katana moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with her daughter, and they both bowed to the newcomers. Each held her hands at her sternum, palms together, as they did so, moving in unison.

Nashville rolled his eyes at the two of them as Katana spoke, her voice carrying a distinct Japanese accent, surprisingly deep for one so slim. "Konbanwa. I am honored to make your acquaintance, Persephone, Trent. Bran-kun, it is good to see you again. And, Ella-chan, you look positively radiant tonight."

Tachi interrupted, reaching up to pat at her mother's topknot, and spoke in a throaty voice, bringing to mind Brooklyn's tonal quality, "Aw, loosen up a little, mom. The bow, sure, that's one thing, but Americans get antsy when you go all formal on them."

Katana smiled at her daughter, her expression suggesting that this might be exactly her intention, but Nashville stiffened, bellowing before she could speak, his voice nearly as deep as 'Seph's, and echoing with a confident, commanding tone, "Incoming! Reno, look out!"

A blur of motion, easily waist high, streaked in through an open door, the thunderous sounds of heavy footfalls sounding through the room. Reno braced himself as it lifted into the air, growling, and slammed into him, knocking the youth to the floor.

'Seph placed a hand on the hilt of her sword as she dashed over to him, but relaxed as she watched the... creature's actions. It leaned down and licked at Reno's face, covering him in slime, then sat up, its front paws planted on his pecs, with a pleased expression. 'Seph realized that she could 'hear' a faint, masculine voice saying the word, ~Mine.~ It reminded her of when Kee spoke to her from the Astral.

Reno began to struggle for breath, and the creature shifted slightly, moving more of its weight onto his hips. It seemed vaguely feline in nature, though with a monstrously heavy build, but its face looked more canine in nature, broad and flat, with curled brow-ridges rising from above its eyes. It seemed to be covered in soft, yellow fur, with a mane of curled hair running down its back, glimmering like spun gold.

Reno started shoving it the creature, trying to push it off him, but it stayed where it had planted itself, unyielding to the youth's protests. Nashville stomped his foot, the heavy, sheath-like boot clunking against the floor, and said, "FU MANCHU! Get offa him, now! Go lay down!"

Fu locked his green, almost lambent, eyes on Nashville's, and planted one front paw on Reno's shoulder, his whole demeanor showing confidence and a sense of ownership. Again, 'Seph had the strange feeling that she could hear the creature speaking, though its mouth did not move. ~I found it, and it's mine now.~

Nashville stomped over, irritation showing on his face, wrapped one arm under Fu's neck, the other under his waist, and lifted, groaning quietly. He muttered to the creature, "Oof, you need to go on a diet, boy. Now, look at me. Look at me when I talk to you, Fu! You've been bad, kiddo."

'Seph grinned and watched the soldier proceed to tear into the... Fu Dog?, then dead-panned, roughening her voice a little, "Ah piddy da Fu."

Branson covered his face with his hands, shaking his head as he tried not to break into laughter, and Elayne did begin chuckling as she helped Reno to his feet. After Reno had stood, and braced himself, Nashville set the unruly beast down. He sniffed at Nashville and Reno, then turned gracefully, and walked out of the room with the bearing of a member of the nobility.

'Seph watched him leave, feeling a slight emptiness in her mind after he left the room, though it didn't seem to have anything to do with whether she could see him or not. Figuring that she wasn't going to be thought insane amongst this group, she asked, "When Fu was sitting on Reno, did anyone else hear his voice? He was saying stuff like, "Mine." "

She heard a chorus of no's and saw a forest of shaking heads. Somehow, she wasn't overly surprised. Stepping over towards Brooklyn, she asked quietly, "Could I speak with you for a moment, in private?"

He nodded, placing a hand on her arm, and said, "Sure thing. Hey, Nash, we'll be in the conference room if you need us. C'mon, Persephone, I'll give you the grand tour."

Branson raised an eyebrow as he watched the suave male walk off with 'Seph, feeling a faint pang of jealousy, but quashed it. If he couldn't trust her to make her own decisions, then he had failed as a leader and teacher. 'Besides,' he figured, 'I hear Brook used to be the consummate ladies' man, but Katana helped settle him down. She'll be fine.'

He turned back to Katana, asking her to repeat what she had just said, then smiled at her compliment. She seemed to have become only more motherly than he remembered, and he felt right at home with her disarming personality. He knew that she was far more than just a pretty face, though. She could live up to her name quite well.

Elayne, meanwhile, was discussing old times with her friend, Lexington. They'd more or less fallen out of contact over the years, but someone watching them would guess that they had talked just last week, as easily as they joked and reminisced with each other.

Of course, Elayne was quite curious as to what sort of gear the Dawn Patrol used, and was eagerly awaiting her chance to pour over it. Lex grinned to her, then asked her to come with him to what he referred to as 'the chapel'. Knowing his odd, eccentric sense of humor, she assumed that it was the base's armory, and following along gratefully.

Trent and Nashville were sizing each other up, watching each other's eyes closely. Tachi stood near her brother's side, her body tensed, a worried expression on her face. Finally, Nashville relaxed, his eyebrow raised in a curious manner, and saluted Trent, saying, "I don't know who you are, or where you served, old man... But, I've only ever seen a stare like that once before."

Trent nodded, saluting him in return before speaking, his voice heavy with foul remembrances, "22nd SAS Regiment, D Squad. I was in the War, lad. I've stared Death straight in the eye and walked away, yeah? You're not so bad yourself, though. Your father musta trained yeh well."

Nashville smiled tightly, his expression unreadable, and said, "I wasn't in the MidEast theater, no, but... I started fighting when I was just a pup, old-timer. You don't want to take me lightly, Trent."

Trent shook his head, holding up his hands, as he replied, "Never said I did, yeah? We'll just have to see how yeh do. Yeh got potential, though."

Reno leaned against the wall again, his eyes scanning the room to make sure that mutt didn't try to gank him again. He hid a yawn behind his hand, feeling his energy draining away. It had been one thing, when he'd been on the road, but now that the only danger seemed to be the Clan's poochie, he just couldn't seem to keep himself awake any longer.

He never felt his eyes close, never noticed as he slipped slowly into blessed unconsciousness. Despite that, he remained propped against the wall, his joints stiffened with long practice. He never heard the soft footfalls and quiet whirring approach, never noticed anything until he felt a faint pressure on his arm.

His eyes shot open, and he looked around in a panic for a moment, before he saw the black, metallic, articulated hand resting on his arm. Elgee spoke quietly to him, their voice modulated, calm, controlled. "Pardon my asking, sir, but you seem to require rest. If you would, sir, please accompany me to the barracks. As we are currently under-strength, you may have your choice of accommodations for the night."

Despite the fact that the little chromer made his skin crawl, Reno knew that he wasn't going to be of much use unless he could get some sleep, so he decided to follow the cyborg.

Brooklyn gave 'Seph a brief tour of the facilities along the way to their destination. Surprisingly, the interior of the base seemed more akin to an office building, or maybe a standard DMV facility, rather than what she had expected from what had once been the most heavily kept secret in the country.

She said as much to Brooklyn, and he chuckled, telling her, "Y'know, that sounds familiar somehow," then grinned at her, saying, "So, tell me a little about yourself, Persephone. If I remember anything about my old buddy, I'd say Branson's pretty taken with you."

'Seph smiled disarmingly, her beautiful face seeming almost to glow with happiness. Brooklyn's heart skipped a beat, but he told himself, 'C'mon, Brook, keep it together.'

Her voice softened a little, taking on a slight smoky tone, she told him, "I know. I... remind him a great deal of someone he cared for. And, please, call me 'Seph."

He waved his hand towards a heavy metal door, telling her, "Well, here we are, 'Seph. Safest room in the place, solid armor plate all the way 'round."

The room was dominated by a massive, heavy, ebony table, which glimmered like a gemstone under the soft overhead lights. At least two dozen comfortable-looking armchairs were placed around its lozenge-shaped length. He gestured for her to take a seat, then told her, "Make yourself comfortable. Now, ask away. I'll tell you anything you want."

She pointed towards his face and said, "I'd like to know a little about your tattoos, Brooklyn."

He frowned, then began to remove his robe, tossing it onto the surface of the table. She gasped when she looked over his shoulders, realizing that his wings weren't caped or folded against his back - they weren't there! He did a half-turn, revealing the smooth stubs of his two wing-bones, as well as the fact that his 'tattoos' ran all along his body.

She noted that he didn't wear the B.D.U. that his son did. His garb seemed much simpler to her, consisting merely of a dull, dark brown, metallic chest plate, crossed by a strap holding a blue shoulder pad to his left arm. Two steel-toned bracers covered his forearms, segmented and covered in arcane controls, and a belt of the same metal as his bracers sat on his slender waist, holding up a light blue loincloth.

'Seph's eyes were drawn to a small length of shining, silvery metal dangling from his belt, a large thumb button and several smaller buttons dotting its surface. She thought that it looked familiar, but assumed that there was simply no way that it could be what she was thinking...

Running a hand through his pale mane, he told her, "Yeah, you're gonna want to put your feet up. This might take awhile."

----Chapter III----

'Seph interrupted, her voice heavy with sorrow, "I think I know this, Brooklyn. Tell you what. Let me tell you what I think, and let me know if I'm right or wrong."

He shrugged, then slid into the chair across from her. He found himself curious as to the story she would tell, since he figured that there was no possible way that she'd actually get it right.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then said, "Those are nanotech implants, right? I don't know how you got them, I won't even try to guess, there, but... they look to me like they're the same style used in 2198, by the Seven Races Armed Forces. Am I on the right track? Were you there when the Shadows came?"

Brooklyn held up a hand, trying to get a word in edgewise. His head was bowed, shadowing his eyes, but his expression seemed pained to her, with surprise and astonishment mixed in, as well. His voice became more gravelly than before as he spoke, "Yeah, that's what they are. I... I was there, yeah," he inhaled slowly before continuing, obviously trying to keep his composure, "I kinda helped out a little against the Space-Spawn. Did the little that I could. I nearly lost everything, for my trouble."

He looked up to 'Seph's face, and she began to tremble under the intensity of his gaze, his grey, steely eyes pounding into her. He asked quietly, carefully, "Now, what I'd really like to know is how you know about that, Persephone. There's no way that was a guess. It's just not possible."

Without even knowing exactly how she did it, she shoved his echoed pain and remorse into the far corner of her mind, somehow walling it away from her consciousness. She swallowed, her mouth feeling dry, then said, "I've seen it, Brooklyn. I can, well, Dream of the future, a little. Before we were attacked, I put myself into a trance. I saw my great-great granddaughter fight in the Battle of Luna's Shadow."

'Seph's voice caught in her throat as she asked, urgently, "Brooklyn... do you know what happened to the Thunder Child?"

Brooklyn shook his head, sympathizing with her concern. "No, I don't. They made it to the edge of our sensors safely, I know that, but beyond that... I just don't know."

He slammed his fist on the table, causing the heavy, wooden piece of furniture to rock with the force of the blow, and stood, his palms laid flat against it as anger filtered into his voice. "We were a little too busy to watch out for cowards who couldn't be bothered to stick around! While your little girl was goin' for a joy-ride, we were spending our lives to get the invaders off our planet!"

'Seph shot to her feet, her tail curled to one side, ready to strike, with a hand laid on her sword's hilt. She roared, her eyes beginning to glow with her fury, "I'll have you know, Colonel, that Scorch struggled to stay behind, because she wanted nothing more than to blow those bastards out of space! She was kidnapped by her command staff. And, I'll also have you know, Commodore Norrington also tried to stay, but was overridden by his ship's AI, under orders from 7RAF Command itself!"

She slammed her fist on the table to emphasize the point, caving in its dense surface, and screamed at him, "I'll ask you to keep that in mind the next time you want to question my line's honor!"

'Seph collapsed into her chair, her anger fading as quickly as it had flared, leaving behind nothing behind but sorrow. The chair creaked alarmingly under her bulk, but held. Brooklyn's stunned expression left her with no doubts that he simply had not known. She felt terrible about railing at him that way, but she simply hadn't been able to contain her rage any longer.

Brooklyn took the full force of her fury, letting it break across him, realizing that this must be as touchy of a subject for her as it was for him. His voice soft, as he tried to calm her, he said, "I'm sorry, 'Seph. I just didn't know. I wasn't in the 7RAF, and that sounds like it woulda been kept pretty hush-hush. Takes a load off my mind, though. When I left, we weren't doing so hot. We could have used the extra guns, but it's good to know that there was a reason for them to leave."

He returned to his seat, more gracefully than 'Seph had, and explained, "It's like this. After the Battle, the Space-Spawn started attacking Earth directly. They wanted to break our morale, keep us down. They wanted to make sure we couldn't ever hurt them... no matter how much we wanted to."

'Seph frowned, running her claws across the crater she had left in the tabletop, then asked listlessly, a wave of black depression crashing over her, "What'd we ever do to them, anyway? I thought the random alien marauders went out of style with Independence Day."

Brooklyn chuckled, drumming softly on his beak with the claws of one hand, and told her, "That's just it. We didn't pin it down, least while I was there, but we figured it was, well, just dumb luck, really. The Space-Spawn and their allies had been locked in combat with another bloc for... I dunno how long. Earth was gonna be a resupply base for them."

Laughing sarcastically, 'Seph asked, "Yeah, because of our vast stocks of dilithium, right? Or, were they looking for new recuits?"

Brooklyn gestured widely, as though to encompass the entire planet in his grasp, then told her, "Funny thing is, yeah, they did want some recruits, but mainly, they just wanted us to stay right where we were. See, here's the deal. The 'Spawns don't use tech, not the way we do. They... well, they use biotech... and Magic."

'Seph's head shot straight up, her spine becoming as rigid as granite. "M-magic? That would explain so much. The shields the Shadows used, the way they countered our spellstrikes... they must have wanted to tap into our biospheres... tell me, Brooklyn, do their ships store mana aboard, like as an oil?"

Brooklyn smiled, his expression taking on a certain cruel twist, his face seemingly all too accustomed to the expression, and said, "Ohh, yeah. I never got to do it myself, but we found that their ships blew up real good if we could torch one of their storage glands. Whatever the stuff was, it was really volatile."

'Seph placed her left hand atop her breasts, commenting cheerfully, "Guess I'll have to be more careful of these babies," then spoke in a commanding tone, gesturing with her right hand, "Addo lux lucis ut caligo locus!"

The metal threading its way through her leggings, and the twin torcs she wore on her biceps, began to glow softly, a very faint green light spilling from their surfaces. Above her outstretched right hand, a pinprick of intense red light formed, washing the room in its crimson glow.

Brooklyn's eyes bugged out, his hand stilling its drumbeat, and he sputtered for a moment before saying, "Where did you learn that, girl? Wait a mo'... PERSEPHONE?"

'Seph closed her hand in a fist, dismissing the light spell, and nodded, saying, "Uh-huh. I took that name after my trance. I think... I think you've met my students, Brooklyn. It's my quest; to bring together some sort of mystic defensive corps before the... what did you call them, Star-Spawn?, come. I haven't been doing a very good job, though..."

Brooklyn, still shell-shocked, corrected absently, "Space-Spawn," before murmuring, "Jalapeña... Your Shadowdancers were our best shots against the 'Spawn and their gropos. Heh, the way that I see time is all messed up, but let me tell you... you have to do this, there's just no other choice."

'Seph merely nodded, lacing her hands together on the tabletop, and said, "I know. I had my doubts at first, and I still don't see myself as much of a teacher, but I know in my heart that this has to be. Um, what's a gropos, anyway?"

Brooklyn shook his head, his mane spraying in all directions from the gesture and said, "Aw, man. Sorry, I kinda get my slang mixed up sometimes. Katana gets on my case when I start up in Mandarin, heh. That was a term that showed up for the 'Spawn's ground pounders. Ground pounders, gropos, you see? Think it came from an old TV show, but I'm not sure."

'Seph closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on her relationship to the world around her, and realized that it was starting to get rather late. Opening her eyes, she smiled and Brooklyn and said, "I'm sorry for keeping you from your duties for so long. One last question, though. I told you how I know of the future... how did you catch you glimpse of it?"

He leaned back, propping a bare talon on the table, and laced his hands behind head, chuckling as he said, "It's nothing, really, don't sweat it. And, let's just say... it was a little more than a glimpse. Try forty years. I kept getting yanked around the timeline by this accursed artifact, the Phoenix Gate. Every time I thought I'd gotten comfortable somewhere, it'd reappear and abduct me."

He shrugged his shoulders, turning slightly to reveal the stubs of his wings, his voice hollow, as though Brooklyn had faced a terrible loss, which 'Seph figured he had, as he said, "That's how I lost my wings. Scorched clean off when I was just a moment late. Still... without it, I'd never have met my Katana, or any of the other companions in the Dance... Must have been freaky for my Clanmates, though. One minute, I'm gone in a ball of flame, five minutes later, I'm back, with a mate and kids, and older than our Clan's leader. It took them a little getting used to, I'll leave it at that."

'Seph smiled, having had her own experience along those lines, and told him, "I think I know exactly what you mean. I've never met you before, Brook, but... If I may? You faced terrible loss and pain in your journey, your Dance. At least once, it was almost enough to break your will, your sorrow just a hair from overcoming you... but you persevered. It forged you into someone stronger, more capable... the person you were meant to be?"

Brooklyn watched her carefully, his eyes narrowed. His posture became one of wariness, but his voice betrayed curiosity. "That's about the size of it... you sound like you know what you're talking about. Something you want to be telling me, maybe?"

'Seph began to explain her own story, emphasizing the similarities she noted between the two. Brooklyn listened, fascinated by her tale, commenting, "So, you used to be a guy, huh? You carry yourself well. I'd thought that there was something about you, but that wasn't what I'd figured."

After finishing her explanation, 'Seph rose to her feet, extending her hand across the table towards him, saying, "Your journeys and mine have been quite different, but if we were both drawn to the invasion of the Space-Spawn, that only emphasizes their danger to me. I would be honored to work with your Clan. I feel that we can change the future, keep them from winning the battle, and I hope that your aid will allow us to do so.."

Brooklyn stood as well, clasping her hand in both of his, and said, shaking his head, "I'm not so sure about changing the future... I mean, I've been there. You keep the invasion from happening, what's that gonna do to me?"

'Seph shook her head, her voice going soft with worry as she told him, "I can't say. Frankly, Brooklyn, I can't afford to worry about it," slamming her fist on the table again, though not hard enough to leave another crater, then finishing, "because I will not allow the future that I saw to come to pass!"

Brooklyn watched her carefully, relying on his long years of experience to read her. Not that she was making any secret of her passion, certainly. He wondered if she had the will to carry through with her agenda. She was certainly fiery enough, but how long could that last?

Meeting her gaze, he began to wonder. Maybe she could. She was certainly more than just a pretty face, and there was... something about her. He nodded his head to her, saying, "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead, huh? Why not. Things will be more interesting with you and the rest of the Clan around, I'm sure of that. Welcome to the Patrol, Persephone."

They released each other's hands, then 'Seph drew herself up to her fullest height. Her expression filled with pride, she saluted Brooklyn, telling him, "Thank you, sir. You won't regret this, I hope. And, I promise that I will not let my quest interfere with the Patrol's goals. I only hope that the two will coincide."

After Brooklyn described the organization of the Patrol, as well as a few of the missions his platoon had performed since its inception, 'Seph took her leave, wanting to find the others of her Clan before dawn came. With all of the warehouses, hangars, and administrative buildings there were on base, it turned out to be trivially easy to find concealed places to roost. Despite that, each person in the Patrol had been assigned quarters for their own use. After all, even with the communal nature of Gargoyle society, there were still times when one might want to be alone.

Trent and Elayne were nowhere to be found. She found one of the soldiers in her fireteam, an ex-SAS sniper by the name of Harold Graham in the barracks building that had been given over to Branson's unit, 3rd Platoon. He was a tall, even dapper man, with faint hints of grey at his temples. He informed her, "The Majors said that they were going to survey the area before they hit the hay."

With a tight smile, he added, "I daresay the desert wasn't the only view that they were looking to survey, if you get me."

'Seph nodded, pleased for her two Clanmates, then asked Harry if he knew where she could find Branson. He directed her to a room that had its sign partially removed, to indicate that it was being reassigned, but had once been as a repair bay.

He headed off as she reached the door, whistling jauntily, and she waited until he turned the corner before entering. Some effort had been made to make it seem more homelike, with several easy chairs and an exceptionally large bed brought in for his use. It seems that he had asked for several of the reinforced workbenches to be left, however, figuring that their tools would prove useful for his hobby.

At the moment, her... leader was bowed over one of the benches, a faint, irregular scraping noise emerging from something that he held before him. She padded along stealthfully, not wanting to disturb him, and peered over his shoulder. He was running a slender knife, its blade nearly two-dimensionally thin, along a piece of nearly blood-red wood, shaving off thin layers and burrs carefully, his face locked in concentration.

She waited until he had paused to examine his carving, then tapped his shoulder. He jumped an inch or two, spinning to see whom it was, his face flushed. "Ack! Didn't hear you come in, 'Seph," he explained as his heart tried to decelerate, attempting to push the carving under an overhang without her noticing.

'Seph smiled at him, and he felt his blood start to race again, though for an entirely different reason, and she told him calmly, "I didn't want to disturb you in your work, Branson. I merely wished to see how you were settling in," then sighed softly, adding, "Brooklyn and I had a very... interesting discussion. He and I are not so different, it seems."

Branson wrapped his arm around her waist, seeing her eyes mist over, then commented, "I know a some of his story, but not all the details. I'll have to ask him sometime. I'm pleased that he took to you, though. He's quite the leader, and his judgment is solid."

'Seph nodded, then tried to cheer herself up. She began stroking Branson's flowing, blonde hair softly, almost absently, as she gestured towards the table. "What were you working on, Bran?" she asked.

Branson flushed a little deeper, but replied, his voice subdued, "It's for you, hun. Just about finished, really, just needs a few finishing touches. I'd wanted to wait until it was completely done before showing it to you, but..."

He pulled it back out into open view, and 'Seph examined it closely, then gasped as she realized that she was looking at a small duplicate, as long as her hand, of the sword she wore at her hip, carved of a single block of teak! Her smile widening, she pulled Branson closer to her and said, "Ohhh, it's gorgeous! But, why?"

He nuzzled against her, and spoke, his voice wavering just slightly, "I did a little looking around on your sword... A warrior was supposed to carry three blades into battle, by custom."

He tapped the sword at her hip with a claw, clacking softly against the wood of its sheath, saying, "One represents the warrior," then knelt, tapping at the knife-sized one that was tied to her left calf, saying, "another represents their family." He then rose, clasping the slightly rough-hewn wood, pressing it into her hand as he looked into her eyes, a few tears welling up in his own as he finished, "and the last... the last represents their mate."

'Seph stared at the wooden blade, its ruddy grain seeming almost to glow softly against the cerulean flesh of her palm, her eyes wide with astonishment. After a moment of contemplation, she wrapped her fingers around it tightly, then furled her wings around Branson, crouching enough to bring her eyes level with his.

Her eyes welled up with happiness, then she wrapped her arms around his neck, touching the wooden dagger with the fingers of both hands, as she stared into Branson's face. He seemed worried, even a little apprehensive, but beneath all that, she felt his love, an emotion that felt as wide to her as the sky itself, as deep as the rock beneath their feet. It amazed her that he could even conceal it, and he'd managed to hide it from her altogether until last night.

His gaze danced across her angular face, simply the most beautiful that he had ever had the pleasure to see, as he waited for her reaction, for her to say something... even if it was no. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, a throbbing behind his forehead, as her eyes searched his soul.

Finally, her face seemed to brighten as she smiled, nodding slightly. "Branson... I will wear this proudly," then released the blade long enough to take his right hand. Raising it, she pressed it into the tops of her breasts, at the origin of her ample cleavage, adding, "Right here. My only regret is that I have nothing to give you in return."

Breathing heavily, his khaki shorts starting to stretch as he breathed in the scent that rested in her skin, he said, "You could give me... your company, Persephone. End your unnatural chastity, darling. I need you so much that it hurts," he dragged his hand from her breasts, grasping hers and laying it over his heart, "right here. 'Seph, please."

'Seph swallowed, feeling her heartbeat speeding to what seemed like an unsafe degree, but nodded, telling him, "I know, Branson... and I will. I meant what I told you, earlier. I've never felt so much at home as I have with you, Bran, and I want to be yours... forever."

Branson shouted wordlessly and triumphantly, and clutched 'Seph's waist, actually lifting her off the floor a few inches in his excitement. 'Seph laughed, stretching out her wings to touch the low ceiling, and clasped Branson's neck again. Laughing with her, his beak opened widely in a grin of purest happiness, he held her there for a few moments, then brought her back to the ground, his face flushed with the exertion.

'Seph eyed his shorts and said, "I think you're going to tear something, Bran. Why don't you slip into bed, handsome...?"

Branson nodded, then capered over towards the bed, unlacing his tunic as skipped over to it. His shorts proved to be harder to remove, strained as they were, but after a moment's struggle, he hurled them to the side, then fell backwards onto the bed to watch 'Seph.

She walked over slowly, emphasizing the natural sway of her hips and bosom, and unbuttoned her shirt as she approached, one button per step, appreciating the way that Branson's eyes widened as her breasts fell further and further into view. The belt was the next to go, after she'd tossed the thin over shirt away. She set it down more carefully, smiling at Branson as she stroked her blade gently, chuckling as his breath caught for a moment.

Finally, she began to slide her short leggings down, revealing her womanhood to him. Not that he hadn't seen her body before, even after Jessica had vacated it, but this time, she played with him a little, revealing the soft, white down between her legs one teasing hair at a time, it seemed.

'Seph felt a certain apprehension in her mind, but chose to push it aside. She had given her word, after all, and she truly did want to be with someone whom she felt loved her completely. She hurled the leggings aside casually, then stepped onto the bed lightly, its springs creaking under her weight, then looked up to Branson as she knelt, saying softly, "You're going to have to show me what to do, my love."

Branson lifted himself up quickly, his upper shaft slapping against his stomach gently, already engorged from her teasing strip show. He wrapped himself around her upper body, burying his face between her soft, pillowy breasts, and whispered huskily, "We could just cuddle for a little while..."

'Seph smiled, bringing her head down to rest her chin on his crown, and started rubbing his shoulders with one of her broad hands, feeling tension melt from the sinewy tissues beneath her touch. Her smile changed from one of love to one of mischief, and she reached down with her other hand down to cup his heavy balls, squeezing them as gently as she knew how.

His back stiffened at her touch, his eyes going wide as she ran the tip of one chisel-like claw down the sensitive skin of his sack, and he gasped out, "Not... gonna need to... teach much!"

'Seph chuckled, palming his balls, noting with some surprise that they nestled into her hands perfectly, emphasizing just how large they were to her, and started stroking the thick, veined skin, inhaling the musk that started pouring from his skin.

He raised his hands from her flanks up towards her breasts, his questing fingers sinking into their surface as he began to kneed, pressing them against his face. 'Seph moaned aloud, arching her back in response.

Smiling, Branson brought his beak out from her cleavage, then plunged his lips towards her nipple, clamping down upon the stiffening flesh, and began to run his tongue along its surface. She writhed against him, rubbing his shafts into her abs. After a moment, he let go, asking quietly, "Any reason you're keeping your milk to yourself?"

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant. She certainly wanted to give herself to him, however he desir... She felt a strange sensation as her breasts dropped, sagging slightly, their skin flushing a faint purple. Branson smiled, then lowered his head again, tugging at the stone-hard nub, tasting the rich, sweet liquid on his tongue. 'Seph gritted her teeth to keep from crying out again, then lifted her hands from his full, roiling testes to cup at her other breast, tugging it towards her mouth.

They stayed like that for long minutes, joined together by the common bonds of their passion and her rich bounty. She had been feeling awfully full lately, particularly after her three-day trance. In the past, she'd been taking care of her lactation herself, but now, she felt that she would allow Branson to, the feeling of his lips upon her nipple one of the most pleasant she had ever sensed.

Branson shifted his hips along her waist, tremendously enjoying the feeling of her enveloping embrace. His thin, watery precum was pouring copiously from both of his broad, blunted cockheads, spattering softly onto both of their hips. He told her, his voice pleasantly ragged, "Darling, please... It feels great to have your arms wrapped around me, to be sure... but, I want to be within you, Persephone."

'Seph released her breast, allowing it to fall heavily to her chest, brushing against Branson's cheek with its smooth, warm skin, and told him, "I would like that as well, Branson. I want you to make me yours," her breath husky with passion.

He planted a kiss on the silken, azure skin of her breast, then one on her lips as he pulled loose from her embrace. She laid back on the soft mattress, spreading her wings beneath her, spreading her meaty thighs to allow him access, as her hand began to drift towards her breast, tweaking her nipple gently.

Branson's heart skipped a beat, as it always had when Jessica had given herself to him this way, but put that thought from his mind as he leaned forward, rubbing the tip of his lower shaft against her nether lips. They gaped open as 'Seph gasped, spilling a trickle of her nectar onto his maleness and onto the bed below. He told her, "I'll only use one of my dicks. You're not used to this, and I don't want you to hurt yourself as you're taking me."

'Seph waggled a finger playfully at him and said, "Okay... but, just this once. Now, quit teasing me, Bran. Show me how much you love me."

Branson nodded his head in reply, then gripped her by the waist, rubbing his thumbs across her skin as he brought his hips forward, driving his shaft into her waiting depths, the tight, slick flesh parting and yielding to him easily. She cried out, moaning loudly as she writhed around his hard maleness, feeling her cervix dilate at the merest touch of his head, allowing him into her innermost hollow.

She reached down with both hands, releasing her breast to grasp as his exposed shaft, clutching it tightly. He groaned as he felt her touch, the pleasure of having both of his cocks touched by the warmth of her body flooding his mind, then pulled out of her womanhood slowly, her inner muscles tugging at the turgid flesh greedily.

He began to vocalize, his rich voice harmonizing with her moans in a wordless melody in a nearly operatic tone. His hands squeezed her waist lovingly as he started thrusting into her, her moans pitching higher with each thrust. A mixture of their fluids spilled from her cleft, soaking the cushion beneath them, the flow from his upper cock coating her belly in an oily, slick layer as her hands roved over it, making it buck within her grasp.

The small quantity of milk that they had not drained from her bosom rolled down the skin of her breasts, pooling in the deep chasms between her abs to mix with his pre, his flow becoming ever greater. Most of the fluid flooding from his lower cock poured out of her, drenching the mattress ever more, but some pooled within her womb as her cervix tightened around his shaft, caressing him as she tried to bring him to his climax, having already cum several times herself, soaking his skin with the spray of her warmth.

Branson felt his immense balls tighten and spasm, drawing towards his hips in preparation, bracing themselves to flood her womb with his seed. Her womanhood grasped his shaft with a steely, velvet-covered grip, bringing him ever closer. When he knew he could take no more, he threw his head back and roared with the full passion within him, hilting himself within her body as his cocks leapt and jostled.

'Seph joined in his loving cry as she felt the first spasmodic releases land heavily inside of her, his upper cock spraying powerfully against the undersides of her drained breasts, covering them in a white sheet of sticky fluid. His thunderous climax seemed to last an eternity, his balls doing their level best to empty themselves into and onto her body.

She felt the pressure rise within her as his cum pushed out the skin of her womb, the most intensely erotic feeling she had ever sensed. Her canal clamped tightly around his shaft, pulling it a hair deeper within her, leaving Branson light-headed from the intensity of her grip on both of his shafts.

As his orgasm drew to its close, her inner muscles milking a few more weak spurts from him, he tried to pull free of her, his withdrawal blocked by her intense grip. He rasped out, "Darlin', let go of me. I'm spent. Shards and shells, 'Seph, maybe you need a little polish, but you got nothing to worry about."

'Seph frowned at him, though her eyes glittered attractively, and told him quietly, "But, you feel so wonderful, my love..."

Branson beamed proudly at her, his sage-colored skin flushed to a pale brown from his exertion, but he told her, "I'm happy to hear that, darling. You feel pretty damn good yourself, y'know, but I think you're gonna hurt something very important to me if you keep up. You're just as strong on the inside, 'Seph."

She sighed, not really wanting to let him leave her, but relented, releasing her grasp just enough to allow him to slide his softening member loose, then tightened up again, not letting more than a trickle of his seed escape her. She sighed again, laying a hand on her well-filled womb, feeling the heat of his spunk within her, whispering, "I'll have to content myself with your generous gift, then."

Branson surprised her by climbing onto her swollen belly, his hips sinking into the yielding flesh, forcing it to swell into an embrace around his softened shafts. He grinned at her pleasured cry, then leaned forward to rest his chest on her diminished breasts, their swells still quite sufficient to cushion his body.

He leaned in to kiss her, whispering, "I love you, Persephone," and she replied, just as softly, "I know," as she nestled her arms beneath his wings, drawing him tighter to her body.

----The End----