All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder.

The characters of Raymond Gamin, Anyx Moxnyx, Anders Larson, Colin Mercer, Dr. Mitch Jaxon, Louis, Devereaux, Cliff "Big Boss" Lee, Malcolm Malakai, Enoch "the Nordic" Anderson, and Bruce are my own creations. Concepts are borrowed from Royal Crown Revue and Diana Gabaldon's book "Dragonfly in Amber."

Teaser: A drunkard turns out to have a much more mysterious past than anybody originally thought.

Timeline: This fic is set one week after "Seeds of Change."
 

The bus ground to a halt at the stop. The driver turned his wide body to face backwards. "Everybody out! Last stop!" he called in his gruff voice.

With a subdued grumble, the passengers all gathered up their belongings and disembarked. The driver watched them all shuffle off, then shut the door. His foot was on the gas pedal and his hand was on the stick when he glanced up in his mirror.

"Hey buddy!" the driver hollered. "Last stop!"

The one remaining passenger looked up blearily and nodded as he stood up. He stumbled forward and caught himself on the rail beside the stairs. The man gave a small groan as he staggered down the stairs. The driver shook his head.

"Hey buddy! Lay off the sauce, will ya? Ya smell like ya took a bath in it!" The driver shut the door and the bus rumbled off.

The man looked around. He wore a faded green duster, tattered on the bottom, worn-out combat boots he'd picked up from a military surplus store, and baggy cargo pants with holes at the knees and a very worn patch around his rear. A lightweight long-sleeved shirt, brown in color, hung on his gaunt frame. He wore leather gloves, the fingers of which he'd worn out long ago, so coarse wool fingers compensated for it. He smacked his pants, causing a bit of dust to sift out. He dragged out a faded old green fisherman's cap and stuck it on his head as he staggered toward the nearest bar.
 

"What's the word, Larson?" Anders Larson glanced up as a grinning Cajun man sat himself down at his booth in the bar. "I saw you when I came in. You been nursing that ale all night."

"Just thinking, Lou," Anders said with his Oxford accent. "About old times."

"Oh, those again, huh? Hey, Lee! Get me a Heinekin, will ya?" Louis turned back to Anders and grinned. "What sort of old times you thinking about?"

Anders shrugged, swigging his ale briefly. "This 'n' that," he said. "Mostly about my friend Raymond Gamin."

Louis blinked. "Gamin? What sort of name is that?"

Anders shrugged. "I don't know. He joked it was because he never really lived in any one place for very long."

Louis took his beer from the barman and nodded, winking. "Sure."

Anders rolled his eyes. "I'm serious, Lou. This was before I got the job with Colin Mercer. Raymond just stayed in Britain, though he moved from place to place. I've never heard from him since."

"You should look him up!" Louis said. "I mean, hell, you know where he lives over there, right?"

"Yes, though not with any certainty," Anders said.

"So call him up anyway! He's your friend, he should be happy to hear from you!"

"I will," Anders said as he mulled it over. "First thing tomorrow." He finished his ale and placed his chin on his hand. "I just hope he hasn't moved away."
 

The man in the tattered duster was thrown bodily out of the bar. The barkeep shook a fist at him. "Come back when you can pay, you dirty bastard!"

The man in the duster picked himself up, checking his jaw to see if it was broken, then staggered off down the street.

"Go'damn (hic) bastard," the duster man said with a drunken British accent. "I no' drunk (hic)."

There was a scream from a dark alley ahead. The duster man blinked, some of his intoxication washing away as his mind became clearer. "Get away from me!" a woman was screaming.

"Shut your face," somebody growled. The duster man bent and picked up a broken mop from the Dumpster outside the bar as he approached the alley.

"Somebody help me!" the woman screamed again.

"Hey, shut your face!" the mugger said. He brandished a switchblade as he grabbed at the woman's purse.

"Shut YOUR face!" the duster man said, swinging the broken mop. It smashed into the man's head, causing him to spin around. The mugger blinked painfully, then tried to stab his assailant. The duster man swung the mop again, knocking the blade away. The mugger grunted and tackled him. The woman screamed again and dashed away, screaming.

The mugger sat on the duster man and proceeded to work him over with two gloved fists. "You gotta learn to mind your own business, asshole!" the mugger snarled as he beat the duster man mercilessly. "You shouldn't oughta hit people with mo-o-ops!" This last word turned into a frightened yell as he was lifted bodily off the duster man.

The duster man's vision, already bleary from several pints of beer, was now further blurred by the mugger's blows, but he could distinctly see a winged form with glowing eyes land to see to him. A faint smile traced the duster man's lips.

"Oh, imagine tha'," he said, slurred. "Gargoyles." He passed out.

Graeme blinked and looked at Lexington. "What do you make of that?" he asked.

"I don't know," the older gargoyle said. "But the guy sounded British or something."

"Think he'll be okay?" Graeme asked of the duster man as he approached the mugger, who had fainted.

"I think he's homeless," Lex said. "Look at his clothes." He poked a talon through one of the holes in the duster man's pants.

Graeme tied up the mugger and left him where the police would find him. "We'd better take him to Talon and the Mutates, then."

"Yeah," Lexington agreed.
 

"Who's this then?" Talon asked as Graeme set the man in the tattered duster down.

"Some guy who tried to stop a mugger. He saved the woman and her purse, but the mugger didn't take too kindly to being beaned on the head with a broken mop," Lexington said.

Talon stepped forward to look the duster man over, then sniffed. "Whew! This guy's been hitting the bottle, hasn't he? He smells like he's been bathing in it."

"You, Maggie, Sharon, and Claw can take care of that, right?" Graeme asked. "Teach him the proper aspects of bathing and hygiene?"

"Naturally," Talon said with a grin. "Maybe get him some decent clothes too."
 

Anders Larson strode off of the elevator and nodded a cordial hello to the secretary as he went into his office. Closing the door, he set down his briefcase and seated himself at his desk. Whistling an old tune he'd learned in his youth, Larson picked up the phone and dialed a number he'd looked up before leaving home.

There was a click, then the telltale beeping of a ringing phone. After several seconds, a female voice answered, "Bennington residence. Lady of the house speaking."

Anders blinked. "Oh, um, I think I have the wrong number." He repeated it.

"No, this is it," the woman replied. "May I ask who's calling?"

Anders stammered. "My name's Anders Larson. I'm trying to get in touch with a Raymond Gamin? Does he still live there?"

"Oh, Mr. Gamin?" Mrs. Bennington said. "I remember him. No, he moved away several years ago. I take it you're his friend Andy, then?"

"That's what he called me, yes," Anders said. "Tell me, Mrs. Bennington, did Raymond leave a number where he could be reached?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Mrs. Bennington said. "Sorry, lad, but there's been no word from him for quite a while." There was a sigh. "Too bad too. I liked the boy."

Anders nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Bennington." He moved to hang up.

"Shall I call you if I hear anything?" the woman asked.

"Please do," Anders said, then hung up. Anders leaned back in his chair and sighed.

As vice-president of Starlyte Incorporated, one of the fastest-rising companies in the field of cybertechnics, Anders Larson was constantly busy. Colin Mercer, the president of Starlyte, was busier than he, of course, with all of his wheelings and dealings. Mercer was an expert in the art of intrigue, and that was what had propelled him to fortune.

Anders checked his schedule. There was a meeting with representatives from Xanatos Enterprises. Something about purchasing new technology from Starlyte. Anders smirked. Something Dr. Jaxon cooked up, probably. He pulled a sheet of paper to him and jotted down his to-do list for the day.
 

The man in the tattered duster blinked groggily and sat up, then immediately thought better of it and laid back down again. Twin jackhammers were going off in his head. "I am never drinkin’ tha' much again," the duster man muttered.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice said. It was a woman's voice. The duster man looked up. The woman had fur. He blinked and rubbed his eyes to try to clear them. She chuckled. "You're not dreaming. I'm part cat." She smiled. "My name's Maggie."

"People call me Ray," The duster man tried sitting up again. He clutched his head in his hands. He tried standing, but did it slowly, so his hung-over body could cope.

"All right then, Ray," Maggie said. "Welcome to the Labyrinth."

Ray blinked. "Labyrinth? What am I? Some kind of rat in a maze?"

"No," Maggie said. "That's just what we call this place. It's a haven, for unprivileged people such as yourself."

"'Unprivileged,' eh?" Ray said. "Is tha' wha' they call us these days?"

Maggie laughed. "You have a good sense of humor."

The duster man shrugged. "In my situation, ye sort o' `ave to be." He groaned as another wave of pounding swept through his head. "I need a drink. Coffee," he added as he saw Maggie's look. "I don' need any more liquor a’ th’ now."

Maggie the Cat led Ray into the main part of the Labyrinth. Ray looked around with considerable interest at the assembled 'unprivileged' types that were here. A man-tiger was serving bowls of steaming soup, and a panther-man was handing out coffee. Ray found himself unconsciously licking his lips. Damn, he was hungry. His stomach thought so too, and made its thoughts clear.

Maggie laughed. "Help yourself, Ray."

The man in the tattered duster did so with gusto, grabbing a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee and finishing them in no time flat. A rat-faced man wearing a beat-up fedora looked at him and grinned. "You hungry, buddy?"

"To put it mildly," Ray said as he looked over at the soup pot.

"Me name's Jared," the fedora man said. "Jared Smith."

"People call me Ray," the duster man said. "Ray Gamin."

Jared nodded, grinning a gap-toothed grin. "That's cool. What're you in town for?"

There was a shrug from Ray. "Just `opped a bus. I don' `ave a reason really." He looked at Jared. "`Ow `bout yuirself?"

Jared shrugged as he gnawed on a hard roll. "Came to town to try to get a start on the stage." He swallowed and grimaced. "Silly me."

Ray swallowed a snort. "I don' see what all th' mutterin's abou'. I did some actin' in my time." Ray grinned. "They never knew I was actin'."

Jared peered at him. "What? Some kind of scam?"

Now Ray appeared flustered. "No. No' exactly." He waved it aside. "I'm gonna get some more o' tha' soup. Ye wan' some, Jared?"

"No thanks," the other homeless man said. "I already ate five bowls today," he added with a suppressed belch.

There was a laugh. "Righto. Well, I guess I'll be seein' ye aroun' here, then, whilst I try to find some place to live `ere in New York. See ye later, Jared."

"Sure, see ya later, Ray," Jared said as Ray got up to go get some more soup.

The man in the tattered duster glanced back at Jared for a moment, then looked at the Mutates, and the spattering of gargoyles off to one side with detached interest.

"Never expected t' see one o' those again. No' in this lifetime," Ray said to himself. The tiger-man serving the soup looked at him strangely. Ray caught the look, then smiled. "Nothin'. Just mutterin' to m'self. Lemme `ave some more o' tha' soup, please."
 

Colin Mercer was an impeccably well-maintained man. His dark hair, which was just starting to show gray despite the fact that he was approaching the end of middle age, was combed and cut precisely. His navy blue suit and red tie were straight, neat, and pressed. His shoes had just the right amount of shine to them without blinding those who looked at them. His fingernails were carefully trimmed, as was his thin moustache and Vandyke beard. He held his briefcase in one hand as the door to his office opened.

Anders Larson and Dr. Mitch Jaxon entered. Anders was wearing a gray flannel suit with a gold tie. His sandy brown hair was slicked back in his current style, and he held his own briefcase. Dr. Jaxon looked very uncomfortable in his own suit. Colin smiled a bit. "Are we all ready?" he asked with his precise Oxford accent.

"Indeed, Colin," Anders said. "Although Mitch is a bit nervous."

"I feel like a goon in this suit," Dr. Jaxon said. "I don't like meetings." He shuddered. "Too...formal."

"Get used to it, Mitch," Anders said. "If all goes well, we'll be doing a lot more of them with Mr. Xanatos."

"Yes, speaking of which, we mustn't keep him waiting," Colin said.

The trio ventured out of Colin's office and went down to step into the limousine that took them to the Eyrie Building. They used the trip to go over their business strategy again. Colin made it very clear he wanted to get as much money as Xanatos Enterprises was willing to pay for Starlyte's new cybertechnics. Dr. Jaxon was just willing to get his hands on some of Xanacorp's famous technology. Anders, as he always did, played the stabilizing element to the situation, favoring compromise.

Fifteen minutes after they concluded their brief discussion, the limo pulled to a stop outside the Eyrie Building. The three men climbed out and stepped into the building. A wooden-looking man with a stone fist looked at them. "Mr. Mercer, Mr. Larson, and Dr. Jaxon, I presume?" the blond-haired man said. Receiving nods, he nodded. "I am Owen Burnett, personal aide to Mr. Xanatos. He is expecting you. Please follow me."

The elevator ride was silent, though Anders looked at Burnett's stone hand with curiosity. The majordomo looked back blandly. "Unfortunate result of an experiment conducted by my employer," he explained in his dull monotone.

"Really?" Anders said, nodding.

"I cannot say anymore," Burnett said as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. The stiff aide led them to the appropriate conference room, and introduced them. "Mr. Xanatos, allow me to introduce Mr. Colin Mercer, president of Starlyte Incorporated, Mr. Anders Larson, vice-president, and Dr. Mitch Jaxon, Head of Starlyte R&D. Gentlemen, Mr. David Xanatos and his wife Fox."

"Good day, Mr. Xanatos," Colin said as he seated himself opposite the multibillionaire. "Forgive me if I seem direct, but let us get down to business."

"No problem at all, Mr. Mercer, or may I call you Colin?" David asked, smiling.

"You may," Colin said, "if I may call you David."

Once the informalities were established, Colin removed his proposal from his briefcase and slid it across the table to David. Dr. Jaxon tapped his pencil on the table nervously. There was silence, otherwise, and soon everyone was looking at him. Dr. Jaxon blinked, then smiled sheepishly and put the pencil back in his pocket.

The deal dickered back and forth for five hours. David was unwilling to pay as much as Colin wanted. Colin was unwilling to settle for anything less. Dr. Jaxon was willing to accept a technological trade. But Xanacorp was not willing to do so.

Finally, Anders spoke up. "I think we need a break. We've been in here for almost five hours now," he said. "What say we continue this in an hour?"

"A suggestion I have been waiting for, Anders," David said, rubbing his eyes. "I could use a breather myself."

Burnett looked at his watch. "Perhaps we should continue the meeting tomorrow, sir. You have other engagements." He glanced out at the ceiling. David understood the gesture.

"Yes, perhaps we should," David said. "I'm sorry, Colin, but I have other matters I must attend to. Can you return tomorrow to finish the negotiations?"

Colin blinked exactly once, then said, "Although I am somewhat insulted by being snubbed this, I can return tomorrow. But we WILL finish tomorrow."

"Of course," David Xanatos said graciously. "I don't want to waste any more time on this than you fellows do. Owen will show you out." The bearded multibillionaire stood and walked out through a side door. Burnett turned to them.

"Follow me, gentlemen," he said drably as he walked back toward the elevators. The trip down in the elevator was just as silent as the first. Anders found himself looking at the stone fist again.

"Forgive me, Mr. Burnett, but I can't help but wonder about that experiment you were talking about," Anders said. "What sort of experiment was it?"

"I'm really not at liberty to say, Mr. Larson," Burnett replied.

Anders blinked a few times, but shrugged and put it aside. Company loyalty, he supposed, or perhaps personal loyalty to David Xanatos. Whichever, Anders understood it perfectly.

The elevator dinged and opened at the ground level. Colin turned to Burnett. "Tell Mr. Xanatos that I should like to meet with him at two o'clock in the afternoon," the Starlyte president said.

"Of course," Burnett said as the elevator doors shut.

"What a peculiar character," Anders murmured.

"I'll second that," Dr. Jaxon said. "That guy is just plain WEIRD."
 

Owen joined David with Elisa at the top of the castle as the sun approached its setting point. David turned to Owen. "What do you think about them, Owen? Those men from Starlyte? That man Mercer rubs me the wrong way. Maybe he’s some kind of Unseelie that we missed?"

"He is utterly mundane, Mr. Xanatos, as is Dr. Jaxon, though he has some faint flickerings of magic. But Mr. Larson puzzles me."

"Oh? Why is that, Owen?" David asked.

"His aura reflects powerful magic, but he is neither fey nor sorcerer. But it is very powerful magic," Owen said.

"What are you two talking about?" Elisa asked.

"I was just in a meeting with three men from Starlyte Incorporated," David said. "I was just curious as to what Owen might have picked up about them."

The conversation was broken up as the gargoyles awoke. Goliath stepped down and greeted Elisa while Broadway and Angela went off to talk together. Brooklyn and Lexington came over to the group.

There was a loud squeal of tires from down near street level, followed by a wicked-sounding crash. Without waiting for a reply, the gargoyles went to investigate.
 

It happened so quickly that Anders didn't even have time to react.

The limousine was turning the corner to head back to Starlyte Inc. Main, but then a compact but densely-built car had slammed into the back portion of the limo, spinning it around until it collided with a lamppost. The limo had then proceeded to wrap itself around the post.

When everything had stopped moving, Anders found himself lying on the floor of the limo. His suit was torn, and his hair out of place, but he was otherwise fine. He pushed himself up and looked at his colleagues.

Colin's arm was broken, he could see that. The Starlyte president's suit was an absolute mess, and his hair was singed and even burned in some places. The broken arm didn't seem to bother Colin as much as the damage to his appearance did.

Dr. Jaxon, on the other hand, was unconscious, and his leg was badly mangled. His suit, like theirs', had taken a beating as well, but the blood pouring from his twisted leg worried Anders.

"Mitch!" Anders cried, moving to his aid. "Mitch!" He placed a hand on Dr. Jaxon's chest, and was relieved to find him still breathing and his heart still beating. "Hold on, Mitch. Help's on the way."

There was a great metal tearing as the ceiling was ripped away. Anders tried to see what was happening, but he was still dazed from the crash, so he couldn't quite discern anything definite. All he was certain about was that someone grabbed him and pulled him out of the wrecked limo. Anders sat up woozy as Colin and Dr. Jaxon were placed on the ground next to him. There was a leather flapping sound, and a gust of air, but Anders couldn't place what it was.

Fatigue mixed with his daze, and Anders passed out.
 

Below, in the Labyrinth, there was chaos.

Ray Gamin had been sleeping in one corner when he suddenly started screaming in pain. When Maggie came to his aid, she found the homeless man with two broken legs and a sprained arm. Her mind whirling with surprise, she turned to Talon. "We have to get Dr. Goldblum!" she cried.

Talon nodded. "I understand." He swooped out of the Labyrinth and headed straight for the medical center of the Xanatos-Renard Foundation, the only place where he could go to get assistance.

In the meantime, Maggie looked at Jared Smith, who had been sleeping nearby. "What happened to him?" she asked.

"I don't know!" Jared replied. "One minute he was sleeping, the next he was screaming!"

"What could have happened to him for his legs to have broken like this?" Maggie wondered to herself.
 

"You don't understand how lucky you are, Mr. Larson," the physician told him. "Considering where you were in the car, you should have broken your legs. As it is, I think your doctor friend is going to lose that leg."

"Lucky me again," Anders said to himself.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Larson?" the M.D. asked.

"Nothing. Just that this isn't the first time I've skirted disaster," Anders said. "I've been a quite a few accidents in my time, but I've always avoided injury. Not that I go looking for trouble or anything, but it just seems to find me out."

"A living embodiment of Murphy's Law, imagine that," the doctor chuckled.

"How about Colin?" Anders asked.

The doctor shrugged as he helped Anders up from the examination table. "He'll need to have his arm in a cast for a few weeks, but other than that, he'll be fine."

Anders thanked the doctor and strode out of the room, frowning at the remnants of his suit. He sighed and went outside to go summon a taxi. But as the taxi pulled up, a jacketed man dashed up. "Anders! You scared the bejeezus out of me, man!" It was Louis.

"Lou?" Anders said. "What are you doing here?"

"I'd heard on the news that you were in a car accident," Louis replied. "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"I got lucky. The doctor says I should have broken my legs," Anders said. "Mitch and Colin weren't so lucky." He briefly described their misfortunes.

"Yeouch," Louis said. "You goin' home now, I take it?"

"I've got to rest up from tonight. Knowing Colin, he'll still go back to Xanacorp tomorrow for the meeting." Anders shook his head. "As business-smart as the man might be, I sometimes have doubts about his common sense."

"Some people only learn things the hard way," Louis shrugged. "I say give him a night's rest. When he wakes up tomorrow, he'll be so groggy he'll push the meeting back."

"It's our only chance!" Anders laughed. "I'll see you later, Lou."

"Righty-o, buddy!" Louis grinned as he jogged off. Anders climbed into the taxi and had it drive him back to his apartment building.
 

The man who stepped off the Amtrak train was large enough to attract some attention, but his size and his dark clothing made him intimidating enough that most people tried not to look at him. A large hat hid his pale blond hair and shadowed his face. He clutched a very large duffel bag over one shoulder.

He turned to regard the people walking down the platform as he withdrew a safe deposit box key from his pocket. He put it away. Taking another look around the platform, he stalked off into the crowded streets of New York City.

He paid little attention to the people who stepped out of his way as he went down the streets, but he did look up as he approached the nearest bank. He turned around and glanced at the street, looking around as he had at the platform, then swept inside, removing a key from his pocket.

He scanned the rows of safe deposit boxes before spotting number 217. Striding up to it, he inserted the key and removed the three boxes within. He opened the smallest one, containing a cellular phone. He tapped the button that had been painted yellow. He raised it to his ear. In German, he said, "It is Enoch. I have arrived in New York."

"Good," came a voice in German. "Look at the rest of the parcels, you will receive further instructions from them."

"Understood." Enoch hung up and put the cell phone away. He stuffed the smallest parcel in his coat and set his duffel bag down long enough to put the remaining parcel inside. Hefting his bag up again, Enoch closed the safe deposit box and left the bank.
 

Cliff "Big Boss" Lee was a large man. He stood well over seven-six and every inch of that body was packed with muscle. He spent two hours everyday working out, maintaining his low weight and strength. The cynics who saw him insisted he had achieved his size through steroids. Whenever Lee got the chance, he punched a few teeth out of their heads.

Lee was out in front of his small nightclub, Club Redrum, when he spotted the Germanic person walking out of the bank. Lee watched him walk by for a moment, then nodded to himself. He finished unlocking the door and stepped inside. He relocked the door and picked up the phone, dialing an unlisted number.

"Dev," the man on the other end replied.

"It's Cliff," Lee said.

"Hey, Big Boss Lee! What's the frequency?"

"I just spotted Anderson."

All of the humor went out of Dev's voice. "Where?"

"He just left the bank not far from my club," Lee said. "He was carrying a large bag. Think he's in town to do a little person-hunting?"

"I wouldn't be surprised, Big Boss," Dev said. "Thanks for the notice. I'll have my men working on it."

"I expect a little compensation from this, Dev," Lee said.

"Right, right, no problem," Dev said. "It'll be in your usual account."

Lee nodded. "Thanks, Dev. Talk to you later."

"You're open at the regular time, right?"

"You know it!"

Lee hung up, then wiped down the bar. He checked his solid Louisville Slugger under the bar, then the SPAS-12 he had saved for the real rowdies. Satisfied that everything was set and that the taps were full, Lee went about turning on the jukebox. He felt like some Royal Crown Revue right now.
 

Dr. Goldblum shook his head. "He's getting better, though I couldn't tell you why." They were in the Labyrinth, Maggie and Talon were watching stoically. "By all rights, he should have lost his legs, but the bones are knitting and he's healing up. I don't understand it."

"Thank you for all that you've done, Doctor," Maggie said. "We'll see to it that he's cared for."

Dr. Goldblum smiled. "All part of the service, Maggie. Glad I could help out."

Claw led Dr. Goldblum out of the Labyrinth. Talon looked up at Maggie. "What did you say the man's name was?"

"Gamin," Maggie said. "Ray Gamin."

"Gamin, hmm," Talon said to himself.

"What do you think?" Maggie asked as she looked at Ray's sleeping form. He periodically twitched with phantom pains, but for the most part his sleep was peaceful.

"The only way I could see anyone healing this quickly is through magic," Talon said.

"Hmm," Maggie said to herself. "Should we contact Owen?"

"Maybe in a bit," Talon said. "But tell Sharon to keep her eyes on him. There's something a little unusual about him."
 

Enoch Anderson stood waiting on the corner of two streets, his dark jacket hiding the weapons he carried underneath. Just down the road, a man gave a clandestine glance toward him.

A small, densely-built car swung around the corner and parked. The door on the driver's side opened, and a bald Asiatic man leaned out. He nodded at the seat beside the door. Enoch gave one of his all-encompassing glances, then ducked inside.

Enoch's watcher raised a phone to his ear. "Small black car, make and model unknown. License number MDK-02. Proceeding north on Fifty Third Street."

"Acknowledged," came Dev's all-business voice.

Within the car, Enoch looked at the Asiatic. "So, Bruce, how are things with Malcolm, huh?" Bruce said nothing, merely looked at him as he fiddled with his wispy Fu Manchu moustache. Enoch blinked. "Ah, yes, that's right. Someone cut out your tongue. This is going to be a quiet trip."

Bruce merely nodded.

Several cars back a brown sedan followed them. The shadow from the corner was in the passenger's seat. The black car's driver looked back at Bruce. "We've got a tail."

Bruce looked forward, blinked once to acknowledge, then nodded. The driver, understanding the unspoken command, swung the car left at the next corner. The sedan tried to follow, but Bruce's driver had turned directly before a long stream of steady traffic.

The shadow stomped his fist on the dashboard. "We lost him! Moving west!"

"I've picked him up," Dev said. "Proceed to Rendezvous Alpha-Two."

"Acknowledged," the shadow said.

Enoch and Bruce drove into a small garage and moved down two levels. There, they climbed into a dark-windowed Buick and proceeded up with outgoing traffic, Dev's sedan moving right past them. Enoch chuckled to himself. "I had forgotten how fun it was to elude the Bureau."

Bruce nodded once.
 

As the side door to the office opened, Malcolm Malakai turned to face the pair that entered. Malakai was a rather nondescript man, aside from the scar that curled down through his right eye. That eye was a milky white, but his remaining eye was the color of glittering obsidian. His hair was a sandy brown, combed neatly, but still just a tad unruly. He looked out his window at the streets of New York, hands folded behind him, his gray flannel suit hanging neatly on his lean form.

He turned his head to regard Enoch and Bruce as they entered. Bruce gestured at Enoch bluntly, then stood to the side as the Germanic mercenary strode in. "Guten tag, Herr Malakai. It is good to see you again."

"Mr. Anderson," Malakai said in his clipped voice. "How was your business in Europe?"

"It went as well as can be expected," Enoch shrugged. "Interpol stepped in and broke most of the group up shortly after I left."

"All the better that you left now," Malakai said. "I have need of your unique services, Mr. Anderson."

Enoch thought to himself how much like The Matrix's Agent Smith Malakai sounded, but he said nothing, merely nodded. "Naturally. Who is it you wish for me to hunt?"

Malakai flicked his eye to Bruce, who nodded and produced a grainy picture. "This man is who I wish for you to hunt. I want him alive. But, if all else fails, killing him will suffice."

Enoch looked over the picture, mentally photographing the man in the picture. "Rather grubby-looking, isn't he?" Enoch remarked.

"My sources tell me you might find him either frequenting the bars or at the Xanatos-Renard Foundation. He always wears that duster," Malakai said.

"That will make it much easier for me to find him," Enoch said. "What is his name?"

"Raymond Gamin," Malakai said.
 

Afterword:
Well, this concludes Part One of "Fallen Fey." Part Two will have the real battles begin. More will be revealed about the nature of Raymond Gamin and Malcolm Malakai in the continuation, and identities will be revealed (like who 'Dev' really is and what factor Cliff Lee plays in his role). -Jay Winger-