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. All original characters are the property of Spacebabie

by: Spacebabie

"I want You to Love Me" Lyrics are by Cheap Trick

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Gang Related

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The sheen of the bright red convertible parked closest to Riker’s civilian entrance caused the tall guard’s eyes to burn. He blinked away the tears before slipping on his sunglasses, scented grape from the pack of bubble gum he kept in the same pocket as the glasses. The aroma was tantalizing and the guard could not ignore the temptation. He removed a wad of shredded gum from his pocket and shoved it into his mouth, barely leaving room for his tongue.

"Want some?" He mumbled as he pulled the package from his pocket.

"No thanks," the other guard answered while swatting away a tiny petal as it fluttered close to him, riding on the cool and refreshing May breeze. He was an almost complete opposite of the larger man. He was as tall but where the other man was tan and made of solid muscle he was pale and appeared to be made of skin, bones, and gristle.

"Allergies?" The tougher man asked, raising his thick eyebrows. The other man nodded. The area’s around his eyes were puffy and his nostrils had turned a pinker shade than the petals that were blowing past. "Why don’t you try some of that allergy medicine form the store, or try that Allegra stuff."

"Too many side effects, and the stuff they sell at the store makes me drowsy."

The gum chewer thought about making a joke, but the jiggling of the doors pushed that thought form his mind. He stood rigid as a group of men exited. Two of them were refreshed officers, comfortable from spending time inside the building and relaxing under the air conditioner currents. One of the civilians was a tall African American wearing a tasteful suit and a pair of thick glasses. He stood silent, like the guards, while the other two men were talking.

"I hope I don’t have to see you around here again," The rosy-cheeked, fat man said. His bushy, golden-orange mustache collected the saliva that bounced off his thick lips. His tan suit appeared second hand compared to the suits the other men wore.

"I’m hoping for the same," The younger man said as he shook the fat man’s hand. Dark,thick hair with a streak of white was styled in a cut that was long enough to brush his shoulders. "Right now I’m just looking forward to a weekend with my son."

"You haven’t shown me any recent pictures, Tony."

Anthony Dracon shrugged. "I promise I’ll send you some this time."

"I don’t know which promise I want you to keep more," the other man waved around a plump finger.

"I’ll try to keep both," Tony said as he and Glasses walked away. "I’ll contact you soon, Mr. Halifax."

"Why do make small talk with your parole officer?" Glasses asked as they neared the middle of the parking lot.

Tony’s suave smile had never left his face. "It’s all about business. If you are polite to your customers you get excellent results, if you are polite to your waiter there is a higher chance they won’t spit on your entree and if you are polite to your parole officer there is a higher chance he or she will help you get out of the slammer faster." Tony turned to Halifax and the guards and waved to them.

"Joey is coming around with the car," Glasses said.

"Already picked up Stevie?"

"Yeah," Glasses rubbed the back of his head. He was unsure of how to inform his boss of the other passenger they picked up. "There is something else you should know."

"Here they are," Tony’s smile widened as a dark blue sedan pulled up. He hadn’t seen his son in months. His ex-wife, Cheryl, rarely brought him over to Rikers to allow him to visit him. He didn’t want to think about that, not when he was going to spend time with the person who matters to him the most. "What else should I know?" The power window to the back seat rolled down and instead of an eager seven year old boy Tony was staring at a thin woman in her late twenties. Tony wanted to be civil for Stevie’s case, but he knew he was going to have to walk on eggshells. "Hello, Cheryl." He worked his mouth to keep up his smile.

"That is the other thing," Glasses leaned over and mumbled into Tony’s ear.

"Tony," the word’s leaving his ex’s mouth was cold enough to freeze the warm air around them. Her penciled eyebrows were lowered disapprovingly over her hazel eyes Her pursed mouth, coated in a tacky shade of pink lipstick, were on the verge of snapping an insult. Her high cheekbones was covered in too much blush of the same shade of pink.

"Hi honey," Tony said, enjoying how it made his ex wife’s eyes narrow even more. "Glasses get in the front with Joey."

"Want me to open the door for you?" Glasses asked. His eyes were locked on Cheryl, knowing Tony was trying to do everything to keep form lashing out at her.

Dracon shook his head. "I can handle myself." He jogged around the to the other side and slide inside.

"Daddy!" The seven year old seated between Cheryl and Tony squealed. The child had most of Tony’s features including the classic Dracon nose and smile.From his mother he had the same bright hazel eyes and sable brown hair.

"Hey little man," Tony greeted. "Ready for a fun weekend?"

"Yeah," his hands rested on his shorts covered lap. A smiling cartoon sponge like creature was in the middle of his light blue shirt.

"What do you want to do first? Do you want to go to Coney Island, or we can go to Medieval Times in new Jersey. Would you like to see some knights fight each other."

"I want to go to Coney Island."

"Don’t you have to call your parole officer sometime this weekend?" Cheryl asked. Her face had yet to change.

"I don’t have too until Monday," Tony smiled. "Halifax just wants a nice picture of Stevie in return." He snapped his fingers. "Glasses call Jimbo and tell him to buy one of those disposable cameras."

"All about that politeness thing?" Glasses asked.

"Exactly," Tony sat back, his eyes on his son. "Always remember to be polite, Stevie. Things are much easier when you are nice to people."

"Yes sir," Stevie nodded.

Dracon smirked at the sight of Cheryl scowling at him. "Before we go how about we drop your mother off. She doesn’t like roller coasters." He never stopped staring at Cheryl. Her lips became even more pursed, creating a face that could curdle milk.

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The late afternoon breezes whipped through Tony’s hair while the fading sunlight warmed the back of his neck. The music of park was a delight to his ears, but not nearly enjoyable as the sound of his son’slaughter. He felt himself getting hungry and knew Stevie was feeling the same, but he wanted to go on one more ride before they eat. They had to ride the scrambler before dinner or else wait a half hour for the food to settle.

His hand rested on Stevie’s shoulder while they stood in line for a hot dog.Whenever Tony visits Coney Island he would always eats at Nathan’s.

"What do you want on your hot dog?" Tony gave his son a lite tap on the shoulder.

"Ketchup," Stevie answered while reaching up to grab his father’s hand. His other arm held onto a stuffed dinosaur won from the games.

"Is that all?" Dracon chuckled. "What about with chili or onions or sour kraut?"

"Ketchup and cheese, with some mashed pickles."

"A relish man? I guess you are not ready to have the works."

"A hot dog with everything?" A man asked from behind. The deep voice with a rich European was more than familiar to Dracon’s ears. "I would like to try something like that."

"I know that voice," Tony’s eyes narrowed as he turned around. His suspicion was affirmed when he saw the more physically fit man standing behind three other men. "Brode."

"You do remember me," Brode smiled. He was not dressed in a crisp expensive suit but not in a sloppy casual fashion. He had chosen dove gray pants and a pale blue button down shirt. He stood out from his men who had chosen to dress in jeans, shorts and cotton shirts. His dark hair was still styled the same, slicked back with enough gel for his hair to shine and a single, thin lock hanging down his forehead.

Tony pulled his son closer towards him. "What do you want?" His threatening tone of voice caused the three men in between him to scowl. He was pretty sure they were his gang members.

"I want to have a hot dog," Brode held out his arms. "Isn’t that why we are all here?"

"I mean why are you back here in New York?"

"Daddy?" Stevie looked up at his father. "Who is this man?"

"Don’t talk to him," Tony stared down at him. "Don’t talk to strangers."

"I am here for business," Brode said. "You told me you had a son when we were in prison together." He smiled at Stevie.

"If you so much as lay a finger on him I’ll-"

"Uh-uh-uh," Brode wagged his finger. "You don’t want your son to hear such language to come form his father’s mouth. Don’t worry. I do not wish to move in on your turf. You run the city your way, and I’ll run my business."

"Business?" Tony blinked, his stern face almost melted away in surprise, but was quickly regained. "You actually have enough money to run a business now?"

"A little trip to Egypt did me some wonders in the budget." He gave the right pocket on his pants a light pat.

Tony tried to study the Czechlosvakian, wondering if he spoke the truth or was trying to get to him. He wanted to ask a follow up question, but couldn’t think of one. It didn’t matter, not when the people behind the counter were asking for his order. He was going take his son outside to one of the benches to eat their dinner. A bench far away from Nathan’s, hoping the other gangster wouldn’t cross paths with him again.

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"There has got to be more ingredients than just sugar," Stringbean said as he pulled a pink clump from his bag of cotton candy. The gang spent a few more hours after dinner at the amusement park before driving back to Manhattan. "How do you possibly spin sugar?"

"My guess is the machine reaches a certain temperature," the member known as Stab said. The gangster was seated in the passenger seat, playing with few cheap rubber toys he bought with tickets he won from the ski ball machine.

"It can’t be the heat," the scrawny man sucked the sugary mess from his fingers. "They make these toys now where kids can make their own."

"They may have used chemicals," Brode suggested. The Czech gangster leaned back in his seat next to Stringbean.

"That’s what I think." Stringbean reached into the bag and pulled out another piece from the bag. "Want some?"

"I’m still paying for ordering a hot dog with everything," Brode gave his stomach a gentle pat.

"Speaking of hot-dogs why didn’t you want us to rough up Dracon?" The blond man shoved the cotton candy into his mouth. "Was it because of the kid?"

"It wasn’t just his son," Brode replied. "I was serious when I said I was not moving on Tony’s turf. He can continue to run his gang business and I will run my own business. A real one, like Xanatos enterprises, or PrometheoTech. I have a ship, the money and my own building. Tomorrow we begin hiring the chemists."

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Tony lived for the days when he could see his son and now that he was free he could spend more weekends with him. The past weekend rounded out with a trip to Medieval Times on Saturday and a day in Central Park on Sunday. The worst part was that late afternoon when He had to drop Stevie at his mother’s home. The second worst part occurred when Tony returned to his apartment. He had only been home for five minutes when the phone rang.

"Anthony?" the shrill voice of his ex pierced his ears.

He tried to ignore the pain developing in the pit of his stomach. "Yes, may I ask who’s speaking?"

"You know damn well who it is," Cheryl screeched.

"Stevie isn’t around?" He asked while twisting his wrist, signaling to his men to turn the volume of the TV down. "You don’t want to say those words in front of him."

"He’s in bed, but I’m pretty sure he heard it from one of your gangsters."

"They watch their language around him."

"So you did have them over when he was there. How many times do I have to ask you to not have those thugs around when Stephano visits you?"

"They are harmless."

"They are a bad influence. I don’t ask much form you Tony, but do you honor the simple little requests? No you don’t."

"I’m not going tell my men to stay away from me when Stevie is over."

"If you want to see your son again you will."

The words she had sad set him back. There was no way she could keep him from him like that. "That’s a violation of our custody and you know it."

"What are you going do? Take me to court? I’m sure they would agree to give you more visitation if they knew you continue to hang around thugs."

"They work for me," Tony barked. Glasses stood up for his place on the couch and approached his boss. "They are my employees."

"They are still thugs and what do you mean by employees? You don’t run a business. You are just a mob boss. Honestly can’t you ever get a real job?"

"I’m sorry," he knew where this was going.

"I don’t know if I want our son over your place if you can’t even be bothered to look for a job. What does he tell his friends at school what his father does? How does he explain how he gets to go to all the places you take him? How am I going to explain to him when he’s ready to know that he was concieved during a conjugal visitation when you were in jail?"

"Yes dear," he held out the phone away from his ear. Glasses took it and placed it against his ear. "Thanks." Tony rubbed his forehead and entered the kitchen. He was feeling fine before she called, but after a few minutes of listening to her sharp words he felt a stabbing pain in the center of his forhead. He selected a small glass from the cabinets and filled it with water. Cheryl will most likely continue her tirade for a few more minutes. He had time to take a couple of aspirin with his water.

‘Winding down,’ Glasses mouthed while he kept his hand over the receiver.

"Thanks," Tony whispered again before taking the phone back form him. "You are absolutely right dear. I will see you on Friday."

"Next Friday," she corrected.

"A week from Friday then," he hung up on her. "And I used to think the way she could talk for miles was cute." He rubbed his forehead again.

"You want us to order some food?" Glasses asked.

"Whatever you want," Dracon approached the enteric to his apartment. "I need some fresh air."

"Do you want us to come with you?" Jimbo asked.

"Nah, I have a lot on my mind. I need some time alone."

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Tony hadn’t walked around the neighborhood in a few years. He doubted if much of it had changed and didn’t really care if any of it did. He wasn’t paying attention to much of his surroundings, not with all that was going on in his mind. There was Cheryl and her last phone call. He could ask his men to stay away while Stevie was over, but what was he going to do if he increased his visitation to every weekend? Dracon wanted his men to be able to see him whenever he wanted but being with his son was more important. He also wanted to think about what do to do with Stevie next weekend. He could take him to see that new X-men movie, or that new cgi movie about the fish that was going to be opening around Stevie’s next visit. They could also go to a museum. That would shut Cheryl up. Her son would be getting some culture. She couldn’t argue about that.

It wasn’t just his ex-wife that was weighing down on his mind. He also was thinking of Thomas Brode. The last time he saw his old prison room mate was in December of 1998. After his arrest for the kidnapping of Chavez’s daughter he was placed inbto a different cell, a cell with a stick figure of a man who kept to himself and read Grisham novels. He heard through the prisoner that Brode was leaving New York and had no idea if he was ever going see him again. Now he is back and Tony had no idea what that foreigner was up to.

"Hey buddy, you look lost." Tony came back to reality in time to face a couple of men in their late teens and early twenties. One was pudgy with long messy hair and dressed nearly entirely in green. The other was tall and bald and was dressed in jeans, white T-shirt and black leather vest.

"I live in this neighborhood," Tony replied. He did not want to talk with a couple of small time punks.

"You sure about that?" the bald punk asked. "I don’t remember seeing you around. Did you just move here?"

"I’ve been away for awhile," Tony tried to turn around, but the pudgy punk was standing in front of him.

"Where you been?" the one in green asked. Tony expected him to stink of beer and tobacco, and possibly cannabis. He didn’t expect his breath to have the odor of an expensive cigar.

"Prison," Tony tried to elbow past him. He wondered if that would actually scare them or impress them. It had neither effect.

"I think you confused us with some people," an unreconizable voice was heard from behind him. A third punk had joined the two. He was dressed nicer with khaki pants, a pale blue shirt and a darker blue dress jacket. He would have looked even better if he shaved the stubble from his chin, put on a tie and removed the light green goggles from the top of his head. The plastic head gear weighed down on his bright orange hair that would have otherwise stuck straight up "The type of people that might actually care."

"You don’t even know who I am," Tony stated while trying to slip away from them.

"We do know who you are," Goggles said. "You are Tony Dracon, the heir to the Dracon family Mafia. Some of us do take time to watch the news and read the papers." He paused to glare at his associates. "Those who take time to follow orders and try to dress better."

"We hadn’t had time go shopping," baldy said.

Tony slowly walked past them. "I see you are having some issues to work out."

"Hey," the man in green lunged forward and grabbed Dracon by the arm. "Not so fast."

"What the hell do you want?" Tony growled while trying to slip out of Green’s grasp. He stiffened when he felt the sharp point of a knife touch his back.

"I wouldn’t try to fight back now," Goggles said as he stood in front of him. "We want your territory, Tony. Some would say prison makes one hard. I say it makes you soft. You are out of touch with how things are run today, Dracon."

"You want to tell me I’m out of touch?" Dracon did not allow his fear to get the best of him.

"We are telling you we are going to take over."

"And I’m telling you to go home." Dracon’s eyes widened briefly at Brode’s voice. Nobody had noticed when the black limousine pulled up until the doors opened and a handful of men stepped out. The dark-haired man in the black jacket approached Goggles. "You think you can threaten an innocent man out in the middle of the sidewalk?"

"Brode," Dragon grunted. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The Czech held up a finger. "I’m not talking to you, yet."

"First of all I don’t know who the hell you are," Goggles poked Brode in the chest. "Second off all I don’t know who you think you are to just waltz up and talk to us like that, thirdly this man is not innocent and fourthly this is New York city. No one notices anything."

Brode brushed his center lock back. "I think you may be wrong on a few things. I am a concerned citizen who did notice what you were doing and from what I understand this man is out on parole. He is not guilty of anything and does not deserve your treatment."

"And you are coming to his rescue, Eurotrash?" Goggles chuckled. "You may not notice this, but there are three of us and only one of you and both my associates have knives."

Brode smiled back. "You are mistaken yet again." He clapped his hands and the other doors to the limo opened. Three other men stepped out. Brode caught the surprised expressions on both the bald gangster and the chubby one. "As you see there are four of me and only three of you and one of my men is packing heat. Do you want to guess which one?"

The gangster with the goggles narrowed his eyes but stepped away. "You’ve made your point Mr. Eastern Europe." He turned to Tony. "This isn’t the last Dracon."

Tony waited until the men had ran off before he darted his eyes toward Brode. "Do you want something?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Brode shrugged. "And I want to talk with you."

"That is not all you want," Tony began to walk away from them.

"I don’t want to hurt you."

"I know you won’t shoot me. It’s not your style."

"Instead of walking I can give you a ride."

Dracon paused. "I live only a few blocks from here."

"A short trip then. I can give you an invitation." Brode’s men had returned to the car. He held the door to the back open. "Please join me. I can squeeze seven people back here. There is plenty of room."

Tony knew it was against his better judgment but the heat from the setting sun was uncomfortable as was the sweat tricking down the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the heat or what had just happened. "Is it air conditioned?"

"It’s extremely cool."

Tony had began questioning his decision the second he slid into the seat and the door closed. The car’s AC was more than welcoming but the icy stare from the gang member in the back made him freeze. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I am still honoring the truce," Brode glared at his men. "Even if some people don’t like it."

"Sorry," the scrawny man with the baseball cap relaxed in his seat.

"Good," Tony replied. "How did you know where to find me?"

"You have told me you usually live in this neighbor hood when you are not in jail." Brode replied. "Gregor, take the car around the opposite."

"Did you come to see me?" Tony asked.

"I am about to start my business," Brode raised his hand. "I have a few slight problems. I cannot relate to the people I am hiring. I would have asked Stringbean to do it, but he tends to get flustered."

"Sorry," the blond man muttered.

"You know this city much better than me. I could use your help."

"You want me to work for you?" Dracon blinked and sat up.

The other mob boss shook his head. "Not for me, with me. We would be partners. We can talk about it over a meal tomorrow."

"I have to call my parole officer," Tony grumbled in the same tone as a child having to ask his mother for permission to go outside.

"Tuesday then?"

"Sure," he sat up. "This is my block."

Brode raised his hand. "Gregor stop. How about we meet at Giovanni’s around six?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." Tony slipped out of the car and raced over to his apartment. He should discuss the invite over with his men before going.

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The sweet an invigorating aroma of coffee beans being ground up and the warm beverage brewing in several pots permeated through out Barney’s. The small round tables inside the cafe part was filled with people drinking steaming and iced cups of coffee while enjoying baked goods and or reading the news paper. Small groups of friends held discussions arranging from the weather, to politics to what they thought of the movies they had just saw.

People milled around the store part, looking for small bags of ground coffee and coffee beans to take home. Some customers examined the different kinds of teas or even complimenting on buying a new coffee pot or storage case. Not a single one thought of the employees only doors, or why there were two of them.

One door lead to the store room and office where managers went over paper work and the stock people took inventory of the shelves.

The second room was even more private. It lead to a small desk with a young woman in her late teens filing her nails and another door behind her. The young employee would take a random break from working on her manicure to type up her notes on her Imac. Occasionaly she would glance up at the cafe employee who had accidentaly taken a wrong turn. None of them questioned her when she directed them to the right room and when someone did ask why there where two she explained the office behind her belonged to the boss.

She was correct in a way. Bryan "Briggs" Briggston did own that one particular franchise, but he didn’t really care how it was run. He just wanted it to resemble a real coffee shop to keep people from finding out what he was really up to. Briggs had almost bought a fast food joint as cover but was glad he went with Barney’s, and his olfactory bulbs were just as pleased. If he ad to smell greasy fast food day in and out he would eventually get sick. Instead he was able to enjoy the scent of coffee day and night.

Another benefit of owning a coffee house was the free drinks. He took another sip from his iced kahlua before he propped his loafers on his desk inbetween the small inflatable cactus and the bronze bust of Dean Martin, his favorite place to set his dark purple fedora on

"Mr Briggston?" His secratary entered his office and carefully pulled the door closed behind her. The glare she had on her face was replaced with a fake smile."The boys are here." Similary to her expression her voice switched around from dripping with sour annoyance to syrupy sweet. She held her hands outs in front of her with a fingers spread.

"Tell them to come in," Briggs replied while removing the plum colored fedora from the top of the bust.

"No problem," she grabbed the knob with her palm, barely using her fingers as if she was afraid any slight movement would chip her nails.

The door was barely closed when three young men in their early twenties strode through. The unshaven male in the nicer and more expensive clothes entered first followed by his fat and bald associates.

Goggles glared at the door behind him before turning towards his boss. "Does she ever do any actual work?" He pointed at the door with his thumb.

"Yvette?" Briggs raised his eyebrows in reconition at who he was addressing. "She gets everyting typed in time."

"I think you should hire somebody else." The annoyance had yet to leave his voice.

Briggs opened the top shelf of his desk. "Would any of you care for a few treats? He pulled out a box of cigars, each individually wrapped in clear plastic followed by a second box full of several miniature bottles of hard liquor.

"Hey thanks," The pudgy man said as he selected a cigar. His bald co hort took a bottle of Disaronno while Goggles declined the offer.

"I enjoy seeing you happy," Briggs boomed. "How did it go with Dracon? Was he still in the same neighborhood?"

"We met with him," Goggles confessed. "And we kinda of messed him up."

Briggs raised his right eyebrow. "Kind of? Did you deliver the message?"

"We told him to back off and we are moving in on his turf," Goggles flipped up his collar.

"What did he say?" The older man raised his left eyebrow.

"Not much and before we really had a chance to show him whose boss some other guy showed."

"He had a limo and three goons with him," Baldy added before taking a small nip from his bottle.

"Anything else that happened?"

Goggles could not believe how calm his boss was taking the news. "The guy who saved Dracon was pretty tough looking himself and he sounded Euopean. Like he is from one of those countries in East Europe."

"Did he look like he was interested in Dracon’s territory?"

"I’m not sure. He was doing this whole concerned citizen bullshit though."

"What we know from is that he might be part of a different branch of the Mafia or not. We will worry about him later, after we take care of Dracon."

"We’ll find out more of him sir," Goggles nodded. "After we take care of Dracon."

"See that you do, and one ofther thing." His eyes were immediatly drawn to their clothes. "I have seen you are already trying to look more presentable. You still need more work in the wardrobe department."

"Yes sir," Goggles nodded as he lead the other two out. Both punks paused to stare at their clothes before they followed.

Briggs pulled out a small leather booklet and began flippingt hrough the pages. "I need to remember to get a intercom." He mumbled while searching for the cell phone number he ndded. He jambed a plump finger on top of the page and picked up his phone. "Hello Davis. How are you feeling this afternoon? Most of them have started to clear up? That is good."

_________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t just his men who agreed with him to go to the restaurant and meet with Brode, Halifax was more than supportive about the idea. He even wanted Tony to actually take up Brode’s offer and become business partners, as long as the business was legit.

Entering the restaurant Tony did not know how many of Brode’s men would be there. He did not want to bring the whole gang, but did not want to be alone either. He asked Glasses to go in with him.

"Good evening and welcome to Giovanni’s," the seating host smiled as soon as Dracon and Glasses had entered. "Is it just the two of you this evening?"

"Actually we are meeting with some people here," Tony greeted. "He may be here already. A Thomas Brode?"

"He said he was expecting you," The host said as he lead the two of them through the sea of tables. He paused when he caught sight of Detective Bluestone. The red hair drew him to the cop like ants to a dropped popsickle stick. He didn’t say anything but did stare at the ground.

"Hello Tony," Brode winked at the both of them. Like Dracon he had only invited one man to be with him. It was the skinny blond man who usually wore a baseball cap. "Please have seat with us." He pointed at the two empty chairs.

"Thanks for the invite," Tony sad as he sat down across from the Czech gangster.

"I hear this place makes a great chicken parmesan," Glasses said as he sat down.

"I wouldn’t know," Brode shrugged. "I only heard of this place from some of the people we interviewed. I hope you don’t mind, but we had already ordered calamari for an appetizer."

"You know what that is," Glasses smiled mischievously.

"Its fried squid," Stringbean replied while studying the menu. "I already explained to him."

Brode nodded at the black man. "You are Glasses? It’s been a while since I last saw you."

"That’s me," Glasses said as he took one of the complimentary breadsticks. "Who is this guy. I don’t remember seeing him before."

Brode gave the blond man a gentle pat on the back. "His name is Stringbean. We hired him shortly after we were released from Rikers. We call him Stringbean because he is too skinny. That is why I invited him. He needs to eat."

"Don’t worry Thomas," the scrawny man was glancing at the dessert section. "I’m going to eat some of the appetizer, my minestrone, my meal and have a dessert."

"That is a start," Brode gave him another pat on the back. "I think you can start with one of these." He handed him a breadstick.

"What is this business you have started?" Tony asked.

"You have seen these anti bacterial sprays?" Brode raised his eyebrows. "You have also seen the commercials for fragrances and this mist that actual removes bad odors? I am creating a spray that combines all three. It will kill bacteria, destroy odor and have a nice fragrance."

"That is what your company is selling?" Tony asked before turning to the waiter. "I’m not ready for a mixed drink yet. Give me a Pepsi for now please."

"I’ll have a light beer," Glasses requested.

Thomas waited until after the waiter had set the plate of fried calamari down in the center of the table. "That will be our first product. I have asked chemists if it’s possible and they said it was. We will be creating other products and will be hiring more people."

"You want me to be your recruiter?"

"I want you to be in charge of hiring plus much more. You were born and raised in this city. Am I correct?"

"Yeah. What about Stringbean here?"

"I grew up in Baltimore," the scrawny man replied before polishing off the last of his breadstick.

Brode nodded at his gang member while loading his small plate with calamari. "I need someone with more connections to the city."

"We would be partners?" Tony asked

"On equal ground. I hope you will at least think about it."

___________________________________________________________________________

Matt watched as Dominique quickly stirred in several packets of sugar into her small cup of espresso. He knew the time was close for them both but she wanted dessert before they left for home. Let her enjoy the sweet pleasures in life. She deserved it after all she had been through and there was nothing wrong about gliding home.

"It is a pity we could not come out here for Mother’s day," Matt said sadly. He wanted to take his wife to someplace nice, but neither she nor he could be away from the castle when their second egg was close to hatching. Now that their daughter, Holly, had broken free form her shell they were were able to have dinner out

"We are here now," Dominique said as she sank her fork into her tiramisu. Part of her wanted to hurry so she can return home to her infant. Holly's hatching was still fresh on her mind. She enjoyed helping both her husband and Dr. Jones clean off the bits of shell sticking to her daughter’s body and explaining to the humans why both Holly and Deidre, Jerry and Gloria’s daughter, had sharp golden claws. Unlike gargoyle hatchlings, who natraully had sharp claws, weregoyles had developed egg claws to help them hatch out of their shells.

Her husband shook his head. "I want to do something special for you."

"You do special things for me each day and you gave me this gift." She stared at her pearl braclet.

"I still want to do more. Maybe we can take up Mars’s offer and borrow her beach house" At the night after the hatching he called all his relatives, including his cousins. Mars had told him about a small beach house she and Cazador own in North Carolina. As a gift she had given him permission to use it whenever she wasn’t in it.

"It would be nice to go on a small trip." Dominique took another bite of her dessert.

He took another forkfull of his canoli. He always tried to eat fast, wondering if they should have ordered their desert to go.

His steel blue eyes wandered around the room, wondering how crowded it was. He paused at a table with four men. Three of them seem familiar. He knew he had seen the man with slick dark hair before and the tall black man with glasses was more than familiar as was the man with dark wavy hair with a streak of white down the center.

"My love?" Demona asked when she noticed her mate seemed distressed. "Is there something wrong?"

"Just slightly," Matt sighed as he rose from his chair.

The waiter had just finished placing Dracon’s and Glasses’s drinks on the table when Detective Bluestone arrived. The members of the mafia both stared up questionably.

"Detective Bluestone," Dracon greeted, trying to use his most pleasant tone of voice. "I thought I saw you from across the room."

Matt saw through his politness."Why do I have a funny feeling you are plotting something."

"I don’t know what you are talking about, detective." Tony folded his arms behind his head. "Mr. Brode and I were just talking business."

"Brode," Matt mumbled the name as he stared at the dark-haired. "Thomas Brode. I haven’t seen you in a while."

"Detective Bluestone," Brode smiled in recognition. "You were one of the cops who tried to arrest me."

"I believe we succeeded," Matt retorted.

"Ah yes you did. How is your partner? Is she still doing the disguises?"

"That is none of your business, and weren’t you two enemies?"

"We called a truce before we parted ways," Brode folded his fingers together.

"You want me to take care of him, Tony?" Glasses pointed a thumb at Bluestone.

"Should I help him?" Stringbean asked as he dipped a piece of calamari into the marinara sauce.

"Don’t sweat it," Dracon held up his hands. "Listen, Bluestone. We don’t want any trouble for you. You don’t want us calling and reporting police harassment."

"I’m off duty," Matt folded his arms.

"Which means you don’t really have any buisness here, now do you? I didn’t think so. All we want to do is order our salads and soups and continue the rest of our meal in peace."

"I’ll be watching you," Matt growled.

Brode watched as the detective made his way back to his table. He blinked at the sight of the woman he was with. "Is that Dominique Destine?"

"She obviously has no taste."

"I wouldn’t agree," Brode picked up the last piece of calamari. "He’s no fool and from what I remembered very dedicated to his job."

"Dedicated?" Tony blinked. "If you want someone with good enough brass to get the job done and refusal to quit then you want Elisa Maza."

"Committed and clever," Brode nodded. "Very good at disguising herself."

"Not that good," Dracon said. "I recognized her instantly under that wig. There is no disguising those warm brown eyes that light up whenever she gets angry and those lush lips that turn into a perfect pout."

"You are not going to dig up that past," Glasses sounded worried.

"Hell no," Dracon chuckled. "She prefers her men to be huge with wings and tail. I can’t go back to what happened back when."

"You used to go out?" Brode asked.

"When we were in highschool. It’s ancient history." Dracon decided to change the subject. "So you have place to set up operations in?"

"Yes we do," Brode selected a bread stick. "Would you like to see it?"

"I will if you give me the address," Dracon sprinkled a handful of parmesean cheese form the shaker into his ministrone before he took his first taste.

__________________________________________________________________________

The blue sedan rolled slowly down the street, giving everyone inside enough time to read the addresses. Tony didn’t want to miss the building Brode told him about. He had a feeling it would be much bigger than the four and five story buildings they continued to pass by.

"Keep a look out for 227," Tony instructed as he stared out of the window.

"Were looking, Tony." Pal Joey said. "This is an actual business or a front for something?"

"I’ll let you know when I know." His eyes were more focused one the numbers had reached the 200’s.

"Here we are," Joey said as they approached a wide five story building. "Doesn’t look much like a business building."

"They are just starting out," Tony explained. "Jimbo pull up in front of the entrance."

The man with gray haire nodded as he slowed the car down to a stop in front of the entrance. "Here you go Tony."

"Find a better place to park and join me inside." Dracon slammed the door shut.

__________________________________________________________________________

Dracon expected someone to be waiting for him behind the desk in the lobby, but not the skinny man Brode had nicknamed Stringbean. He was poured over a computer, eyes glued to the screen and fingers dancing over the keys. From where Tony stood he could see the scrawny man was dressed in a clean dress shirt and still wore his baseball cap backwards.

"I’m not going to get a grand welcome," Dracon pretended to sound hurt.

Stringbean blinked several times before he pushed his office chair back and sat up. "Oh, Mr. Dracon."

"You are the welcome wagon?" From behind him Tony could hear the leather shoes of his men striking against the hard-floor tiles.

"They have this guy behind the counter," Glasses chuckled as he pointed at Stringbean.

"Isn’t he supposed to be offering us coffee by now?" Jimbo added. Pal Joey was too busy laughing to add his own two cents and Lil Mutt was laughing silently.

Stringbean narrowed his eyes at them. "This is only temporary until we find the right person, or persons."

Jimbo did not know when to let go. "Where is my coffee?"

"We haven’t got a coffee pot out here yet," Stringbean snapped. "I’d like to see you type thirty words a minute."

"Thirty words a minute?" Tony gasped. "I knew I smelled smoke coming from your fingers."

"Thanks," Stringbean readjusted his cap. "I can let Brode know you are here."

"That is not needed," Thomas Brode said as he entered from one of the doors. "I knew Tony would be here at the time he said he was."

"Hello Thomas," Tony held out a hand anticipating the other man to take and shake it. "How is that miracle spray coming?"

"It is almost complete," Brode shook quickly and smiled. "We just need to develop the fragrances. We are not familiar with the popular scents these days. We want fragrances that are popular for the home, but nothing like what they have as bubble bath."

"Haven’t figured out the last part out?" Tony asked before turning to his men. "You guys got any ideas?"

The eyes of his gang members widened with confusment as they scratched their heads.

"Can’t go wrong with lemon," Glasses suggested.

Pal Joey stared at the ceiling and rubbed his fingers together. "I heard country potpourri is good."

"Jasmine," Jimbo blurted out before quickly shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Jasmine?" Dracon asked.

The tall silver-haired gangster shrugged. "I saw the name in that aisle in the grocery store that sold fragrance sprays."

Tony shrugged and turned to Brode. "I hope those are some ideas. Although I would change lemon to a citrus blend."

"You see, I do need your help," Brode said while approaching one of the elevators, he singled for Dracon and his gang to follow him. "Brocon can benefit form your help."

"Brocon?" Tony paused. "The name of this company is Brocon?"

The Czech man pressed the button pointing up. "Our company. Its a merging of our names. I created several different variants and according to Stringbean Brocon sounded the most like a business."

"Drode doesn’t sound too good," Tony entered the elevator first, followed by his men and Brode. "I do have one question though. The boys and I have been discussing it for a while." He held out his arms as far as the small confined space would allow him. "Is this a real business, or is this a front?"

"A front?" Brode raised his eyebrows. "Oh no, no, no. This is a real business. I would give you a tour but there is not much. The basement will be our mailroom. The first floor will be the lobby, the employee coffee rooms, payroll and the employee cafeteria. The second floor will contain the labs. The third will be personnel and accounting, the fourth is marketing and engineering and the fifth will be our offices and executive lounges." The elevator came to a stop on the fifth floor and the doors slid back. "Would you like to see your office?"

"My office?" Tony blinked. "Sure, I want to see it."

"Follow me," Brode lead him through the wide office halls with floor covered in thick sliver carpet. "Everything has been furnished. All the floors except the second and basement has carpeting and there are desks and cubicles." He paused outside an unmarked door. "Here we are." He held the door open for Dracon.

Tony whistled the second he stepped inside. The carpeting in his office was a bluish gray. The walls were covered with a wooden paneling that seemed to be made out of the same type of material as the large desk in the middle of the room. Tony ran his fingers over the surface before he sat down in the large blue chair and felt himself sink.

"Do you like?" Brode asked

"This is cushy," Tony spun around in his seat till he faced the large window in the back of his office. "What is that door in the back for?" He pointed at the door near the window.

"Your private bathroom."

Dracon slid out of the chair pushed the door open. Brode was right. "This place could use a few personal touches."

"The artwork, plants and curtains are up to you. If you agree to be my partner. I have a feeling if we work together we can go very far."

"It does sound tempting," he rubbed his chin. He imagined driving to a place that may not have much of parking lot, but what it did have would be reserved for the executives. Riding the elevator to the top floor and entering a large office with his name set on a brass nameplate on the door. "I only have one question. Can I get venetian blinds instead of curtains?"

Brode’s smile was the only answer he needed.

___________________________________________________________________________

The last stop of the day for Dracon was at Your Name Here. There were not going to hire any advertising spots in the yellow pages or on the radio but they were going to set up a meeting for future business.

"Joey, I want you to stay into the car and wait for us," Tony instructed as he and the others exited the vehicle.

"Why do I have to stay with the car?" He kept the tone of his voice cold and sophisticated as possible. He did not want to turn it into a the pathetic whine of a spoiled brat. "Is it just because I’m driving it?"

"That’s the main reason," Tony ran a wide toothed comb through his hair. "I don’t want to walk along way to find the car and I don’t trust this neighborhood too much."

"I still think Lil Mutt should be the one," Joey slid low into his seat. "At least I can talk." He pretended he did not see the one finger salute Lil Mutt gave him.

"No more arguments, and keep your phone on."

Joey slammed the heel of his hand against the top of the dashboard. "Shit."

Joey drove a few block down, trying to find a decent spot and wondering if he should go with a parking lot. It only cost him a few dollars, but it was better than driving all over the city. The broek air conditioner was begining to annoy him. He may not know the neighborhood, but he wasn't going to suffere from heatstroke either.

"I'm at the nearest lot," he grumbled into his cell phone after Glasses answered. "Just to let you know how long it will take to come get you when you're done." He turned it off before he heard a response and turned on the radio, changing the dial over till it was set on his favorite station in time for the all eighties hour to start.

"All right. Cheap Trick." He turned up the volume and set the seat back before he sang along. "I want you to love me.I need you to need me. I’d love you to love me.I’m beggin’ you to beg me. "

He stopped singing when he heard the light knock outside his window. "Just a second." He shouted while turning the volume down. He shrank back when an arm burst through the space between the window and the top of the car and unlocked the door. "Who the fuck?"

The only answer he received was the door being pulled open and two men pulling him out. "Shut up," the bald thug barked after he was forced to the floor. Both of them were dressed in the same white shirt jackets and crisp button down shirts. The bald one’s light blue shirt matched his blue jeans and the fat one’s salmon hued top contrasted nicely with his light gray dress slacks.

"What the hell?" Joey stared up to see a young man dressed in a sharp Armani suit. His bright orange hair was slicked back with pomade and a pair of light green goggles was placed on top.

"You work for Dracon don’t you?" The man with goggles said as he removed a cigarette from his pack of Camels and placed it into his mouth. "I got a message for your boss."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Joey slowly rose to his feet. He heard two switchblades behind him and paused. His legs were bent halfway and his arms were hanging, palms pointed forward.

Goggles watched as he shook, knowing it wasn’t because of fear, but of the awkward position he was in. "Let him stand up." He brought the flame of his lighter to the end of his cigarette. "I got a message for your boss."

"What message is that?" Joey asked as he slowly rose.

"Tell him to give up and back off. We are going to be taking over."

Despite the situation he was in Joey laughed. "You have got to be kidding me."

"We are not kidding," Goggles took a drag from his cigarette. "We are going to be taking over Dracon’s turf." He leaned over and blew the smoke into Joey’s face. "You better tell your boss to just let us have it, unless he wants to meet the consequences."

Joey only paused from laughing to cough. "You kids are a bunch of jokes. Do you think we are going to listen to a bunch of college drop outs who have been watching marathons of the Sopranos?"

"Should we rough him up Gosford?" One the punks behind Joey asked.

"Gosford?" Joey blinked before doubling over again. "What type of mob boss are you? Holy shit, it’s the WASP Mafia."

"You may laugh all you want," Gosford said calmly. "We are perfectly serious."

"A couple of tips kid. One is you are going to need a hell of a lot more men to follow your orders, two if you want to plan on taking over Dracon’s territory you don’t order him to back off, you start gradually and make a name for yourself. Three, nobody is going to take you seriously if you wear those ridicules raver goggles."

Gosford’s small green eyes narrowed as he removed the cigarette from his mouth. He snatched Joey by the wrist. "Don’t you ever insult the goggles." He spoke slowly and softly while squeezing onto Joey’s wrist as tight as he could. "I am not the leader. We all work for Briggs."

"Well you can tell Briggs he is going all about it wrong."

Gosford took a quick drag of his cigarette. "I’ll be sure to give him the news. I know he would appreciate the tips."

"Good," Joey smoothed down his jacket flaps. "Are you going to leave?"

"Are you going to give your boss the message?"

"Fuck no," Joey reached for the handle of the car only to have the blade of one of the knives to strike him on top of the back of his hand. He winced, not from the pain, but from the suddeness and image of the blade in his flesh. The sharp pain came seconds later as his blood oozed from the injury.

"Now boys we need to remember our manners," Gosford said. "I said you can use your knives if he spat on us, not if he used potty talk. Use your fists."

The punk with long brown hair removed the knife from Joey’s hand and grabbed him by the wrist. Joey tried to wrench away from him but the other punk grabbed him by his other arm. With his free hand the bald punk launched his fist forward, striking Joey on the chin.

_________________________________________________________________________

"So it’s a deal then?" Tony asked as he held out his hand in front of him. The woman with brown bob dressed in a blue power suit-dress accpted his gesture.

"We can’t make any official deal until you give us a request," Mrs. Keen said as she shook Dracon’s hand. "But we will keep your file on the record."

"Thank you. You will probably have our first request within a month or so." Tony exited Keen’s office. His men were waiting in the lobby. "Lets go."

"We have it all set up?" Glasses asked. Jimbo grabbed another handful of complimentary mints from the secretary’s candy dish before he followed the others.

"Signed, sealed and delivered. We are on their file." He removed his phone from his pocket. "Have Joey bring the car around before we call Thomas."

Glasses brought the phone to his ear. "You can bring the car around." His eyebrows lowered when he heard nothing. "Are you still pissed because Tony made you wait outside?"

"He’s not pissed," the voice on the other end was not Pal Joey’s. "He’s a bit too unconscious to talk."

"This isn’t Joey," Glasses whispered.

Dracon lowered his brows and took the phone from his hand."Who is this?"

"Why Mr. Dracon, don’t you remember me. My two associates and I stopped to talk to you while you were taking a walk last Sunday."

Dracon gritted his teeth. "What have you done to Joey?"

"Not much, aside from my associates roughing him up a bit."

"Where are you?"

"At the parking lot."

Dracon picked up his pace, motioning his men to follow him. "You damn well better not be there and Joey better still be alive."

"He’s still breathing and what would happen if we are still here?"

"You don’t know how many of my men are with me."

"Touche Mr. Dracon. Just remember my warning. Back off. We want you to back off, because we are going to take over."

"Take over what? If you want what I used to do then you can have it." He turned the phone off when he broke out into a full run.

_________________________________________________________________________

There was no sign of the punks when Tony and the gang arrived at the lot. There was a small crowd of people around his car and two people were circling around a man lying on the ground." Joey," Tony cried out and raced toward his lackey, elbowing past the crowd.

Joey wasn’t moving and if he was awake Tony wouldn’t want him to move. Violet purple blotches covered his face accenting the swollen jaw. His lips had fattened to twice their thicknes and was caked with drying blood. More blood surrounded the end of his broken nose. His arms were flayed about his body, bending in strange angles. One hand was covered with fabric torn from his sleeve.

"I think he’s going to need stitches for that hand." One of the two men who were assessing Joey said as he stood up. "I already called 9-1-1."

Tony barely heard him. as he sat down next to Joey. "I shouldn’t have made him wait." He whispered, wanting to hold onto him ,but knew it might cause him more pain.

___________________________________________________________________________

Dracon was the only one allowed to ride in the ambulance with Joey to Manhattan General. He instructed Glasses and the others to follow him in the car, even though he knew the cops were probably going to need to fingerprint the vehicle.

"Gosford," Joey mumbled in the ambulance. His jaw and chin were swollen, but not broken. "Gosford was his name."

"Try not to talk too much," the female paramedic said. "You need to stay still."

Dracon had sat up when he heard Joey speak. "Who is Gosford?"

"Armani....goggles," Joey mumbled.

"He’s coming out of it," the male paramedic said.

"That is good but he still needs his rest," the woman told him. She glanced at Dracon. "Try not to get him to talk."

"I understand," Tony said as he sank back in his bench. He did not say another word until they arrived at the hospital and Joey was carried out. He followed them in as they were met with doctors. He followed them until he was stopped by one of the doctors.

"You can’t go in there with him," the doctor with the name of Young on his badge had addressed him.

"I know," Tony said as he watched Joey being wheeled into the ER. "Is there a place I can sit and wait for him?"

"This way," Young grabbed him by the wrist and lead him away.

__________________________________________________________________________

It was probably the last call in that day for both Elisa and her partner. Considering the fact the only other call in they had ended up with a small shoot out she was thankful she did not have to work on any more paperwork. Matt had to fill out several forms for firing his gun, but she didn’t release any bullets. She counted herself lucky for the fact it kept her out of paperwork, but she was always thankful she never lost a gun.

Elisa did pause when she realized who she was going to talk with. She could not believe it was Dracon and what was even more amazing was the fact Dracon was the victim this time.

"I have a feeling we would probably get more information from the witness at the lot," Matt said as she pulled into Manhattan general. "There were a few who witnessed the beating."

"Someone is attacking Dracon," Elisa mumbled. She had to repeat it to believe it. "It’s not the first time someone tried to hurt him." She found a reasonable place and pulled her farlane into it.

"It’s not Brode either," Matt undid his seat belt and slid out.

"Somebody new and that is even worse than Brode and Dracon working together."

"How so?" How os he closed the door while staring in the window.

"We already have records of Brode and Dracon. We don’t have anything on this new group."

Matt glanced at his watch. "Got about four more hours till sunset. I’m going to talk with Tony’s men. See if they have any information."

"I’ll speak with Dracon."

She found Tony in the waiting room, staring at the half full cup of cheap coffee from the machine in his hands. The way he had his eyes narrowed and forehead wrinkled she knew he was in deep thought.

"Tony," he did not respond, didn’t even move. "Tony Dracon."

His eyebrows raised slightly, as if he didn’t really notice her. It wasn’t until he got a good look at her when he sat up to full attention. "Maza. You must have switched perfume. I usually can smell you from a mile away."

She knew he was trying to play coy to disguise his true emotions. "You don’t have to try. I know your worried about Joey."

"He got jumped by a bunch of kids," He shook his head. "This is not right. These weren’t gangsters, Maza. They were gangsta’s The type who wear the heavey gold chains and talk in slang they hear on rap records."

"You know who they are?"

"I’ve met them a few blocks from my apartment," He pointed at the space next to him. "You can sit."

"Thanks. Are you sure they were the same who attacked Joey?"

"He mumbled a few words. About one of them wearing goggles. That kid with the chip on the shoulder. He was wearing goggles."

"Can you describe him?"

"For starter’s he’s a caucasion male in between his late teens and early twenties. I can’t give his exact height in numbers but he was taller than you, but shorter than me. Somewhere in the middle. He had orangr hair cut short, close to my actual length." He grabbed onto his hair. "but it was spiked up. I could smell the crap he put into his hair. He has beady green eyes and some peach fuzz on his face. It’ was not grungy cause parts of his face was smooth. I think he was just starting to grow something."

"What about the two men he was with."

"I didn’t get a real good look of them. One was about my height, a bit overweight with long brown hair. He had a grungy unshaven face. The other guy was taller than me with his head clean shaven."

"Will you be willing to come down to the precinct?" The question caused his eyes to widen nervously. "To work with a composite artist. Relax Tony."

"I would if only you will treat me like we did before we went down our career paths. I don’t want you to act like you are in love with me. Just treat me with the same amount of respect."

"I’ll treat you with the same amount of respect as all the people I question."

"I’m still wondering if we went out because you wanted to piss of your parents."

"Now is not a good time to talk about it," Elisa rose from her seat. "You should have tried to be a comedian."

"Things changed," Dracon shrugged. "Things continue to change. If those punks want my old raqueterring job they are more welcome to it."

"Your turning your back on the Dracon legacy?"

"Like you are the one to talk about family legacy."

She shook her head. "I’m only the second Maza after my father to become a cop and if his high school friend was never murdered he may not have been a cop."

"Not turning my back on it," Tony shook his head. "I’m changing it. I don’t want Stevie to go through what I went. I don’t want him to risk his life for the business. Our business will be more about cleaning up the mess and killing the bacteria."

"What?" Elisa blinked. She wondered if Dracon wasn’t hit on the head.

A digital version of the entertainer rang out from Tony’s pocket "It’s what Brocon will be selling. Excuse me." He removed his phone form his pocket. "Dracon. I’m at the hospital, Thomas. I’m being interviewed about what happened to Joey. Thanks for the offer, but I will be at the 23rd precinct."

"Brocon?" She gave him a crooked smile.

"It’s a good name of a buisness and I have always said I’m a buisnessman."

"I’ll see if Matt is finished and I’ll meet you in the parking lot," Elisa stood up to leave, only leaving a friendly pat on his shoulder before she left.

__________________________________________________________________________

Dracon thought Brode was going to drive him back to his apartment, but when they took the opposite direction away from the 23rd precinct building he became suspicious. He had finished giving the information to the composition artist when his business partner had arrived. Unlike him Brode appeared to have been unfazed by the building.

"Where are you taking me?" Tony asked, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.

"I’m taking you to my home," Brode spoke as they neared a group of apartments. "I don’t feel you would be safe sleeping at your place."

"We could at least swing buy my place and pick up some clothes."

"You can ask one of your men to bring you a suit for tomorrow."

"He shouldn’t have given them access," Tony slowly shook his head. "Joey should have kept the door locked and ignored them. He wouldn’t be in the hospital."

"Are you blaming him?" Brode turned off the ignition. "We are here." The had parked across from the apartment building Brode was pointing at. It was ten stories tall with defined sill like ledges. The corners of the door had flora like designs carved into the wood.

"It’s a nice place," Dracon complimented.

"It is also safe," Brode smiled. "You live in bad part of town and you attract bad people."

"My neighborhood isn’t so bad," Tony shrugged. "And I thought it was the people that made a neighborhood bad."

"You are correct but when one termite shows up several follow." He typed in the proper code number for the building.

"Interesting analogy," Dracon said as he followed Brode inside.

"What would you like to eat?"

Tony shrugged. "It doesn’t matter. We could try that Mexican place a few blocks down or order something in."

"That is not real food. I’m asking you if you have any preferences in meat or vegetables."

"Why?"

Brode stared at him in a mix of disbelief and pity. "How long has it been since you actually had a home cooked meal?"

The home cooked meal turned out to be beef stew. Tony watched from where he was seated at Brode’s modest kitchen table. His business partner had bought the beef already pre cut into cubes but he did the rest of the work himself. He placed the meat in a skillet along with few spices, creating a savory aroma in the kitchen. While Brode chopped up the onion, carrots, potatoes and mushrooms he called Glasses and ordered him to bring him a change of clothes and his toothbrush from his apartment. Dracon decided to help Brode by washing the skillet, cutting board and knives for him.

Glasses stopped by around the time Brode was ladling the stew into their bowls. "Here are your things." He handed him a small bag. "Are your sure you are going to be comfortable here?"

"Not until Maza gets those punks." Tony set the bag on the nearest chair.

"If the police gets Gosford, or if someone else gets to them first." Glasses large grinned at the last part and held it. Tony knew that look. He had seen it before when Glasses had an idea brewing but had to keep it concealed. He usualy reserved it for when they were in the presnece of the cops

"What are you getting at?"

"Ever since we left the hospital we’ve been rooting around," he shoved his glasses further up his nose. "We dug up some clues of our own. We think we have a lead on where this Gosford guy might be."

"You are not going to do anything drastic are you?"

"We are not going to declare war on them if that is what you mean. We just going to tell them if you shove us then we will shove back. It’s an revenge thing."

"I need to stay here," Tony glanced over towards the kitchen where Brode was holding onto one of their bowls. "At least until you do what you feel you have to do."

"Don’t worry, Tony." Glasses gave him a thumbs up. "We won’t say anything about this discussion if we get caught. You won’t be going back to jail, but we will rat those kids out."

"Thanks. Call me back when you are done." He closed the door after Glasses had left and returned to the dining area. "Looks good."

"I am sorry about the bread not being home baked," Brode tore of a chunk from the crusty loaf half wrapped in wax paper and placed it on the small plate next to one of the bowls. "And I do not know what you prefer to drink."

"Anything will be good right now," Tony said. "Water, beer, soda."

"I have some German beer," Brode tore off another piece set it next to the other bowl. "Please take a seat and I will get it."

"It looks and smells wonderful," Tony slipped into one of the chair sand stirred around the stew in front of him.

"I could not help overhearing. Glasses knows where the men who beat your friend are?"

"They think so."

"And you don’t want to get involved?" He set a glass bottle full of amber liquid in front of him. "You have faith in this Maza woman?"

"I can’t deny the fact she is good. You should know. She pretended to be in your gang."

" Brode removed the cap from his bottle. "I can see why someone like you would go out with a woman like her. Considering your backgrounds It was a casual relationship?"

"We were head over heels involve with each other. We danced, went to the movies had romantic dinners, everything."

"Everything?" Brode raised his eyebrows. "Did you sleep with her?"

Tony’s cheeks flushed a bright pink. He tried to answer but felt a deep tickle in his throat causing him to cough. "Wrong pipe."

"Sorry if that was too personal."

"Not too personal, just surprising. " he tore a smaller chunk from his bread and dipped it into the broth. "Maybe someday I’ll let you know the truth."

"You are worried about your friend?"

"I know he is going to make it. Joey is tough and I know Gosford is going to get his. Right now I have a lot on my mind. A lot to deal with."

"I hope my stew and a good night’s rest will help you relax."

"Well the first part is working." He wiped his mouth with his napkin before taking another drink from his beer.

_________________________________________________________________________

The throbbing beat of the club music pulsated out of Club Cairo and through the locked doors of the blue sedan. It was not loud enough to cause the seats to shake but just enough to be an annoyance to Glasses. The black man relaxed his fingers briefly from the wheel. "How long can those guys stay in there? I’d be deaf by now."

"Why do we have to be here?" Gregor asked from the passenger side. "Our bosses are partners and we will be working together, but I still do not know why we are here."

"When Tony and Brode joined forces we joined forces," Jimbo said from behind Glasses. "At least that is what I think."

"Should we be calling them by their first names now?" Stringbean was the fourth occupant in the car. Stab was ordered to stay at his place while Lil Mutt was at the hospital with Joey.

"Whatever you want kid." He returned his hands to the wheel, wondering how much longer till their query would exit. He did not have to wait long. "There they are, and get a load of Mr. Playboy." He pointed at Gosford as he left the club with a buxom female on each arm. Both girls wore next to nothing. Gosford slipped out of the arms of the women as his two lackeys exited the club."And cue in Crocket and Tubbs." After Gosford placed a kiss on each of their hands he pulled out a piece of paper and wrote on it. "Go on. Give them your digits. You won’t be calling them anytime soon." He watched as he ripped the paper into half and gave each woman a scrap. They handed him their numbers written on a cocktail napkin.

"How does a guy like that get two women?" Sringbean complained

"Probably bragged about how he was a big shot."

"Shit," Stringbean ran his fingers through his hair before replacing his cap. "He brags and I got a sixth sense, but that’s still nothing."

"Quiet back there," Glasses barked. He slowly pulled the car out of the space as soon as Gosford turned the corner. He drove slowly, almost crawling as he inched past the other cars and nearly stopped when he saw Gosford slipping behind the wheel of a bright red convertible.

"How the hell did he get a car like that?" Stringbean complained.

"Most likely it belongs to his father," Gregor replied before popping out a strawberry flavored PEZ from his Tweety Bird dispenser.

"Keep it cool you guys," Glasses warned as waited for the convertible to pull out and enter the main road before he followed.

___________________________________________________________________________

Gosford led them to an a semi abandoned building. The upper stories were mostly boarded up save for a few windows and the bowling alley on the first floor was still pretty much operational. The sign hanging from the door was a closed sign not a sing from the health department coddling it.

Glasses pulled around towards the back, parking a few feet away from the building. "I have a question for you guys."

"What?" Gregor asked while slipping his dispenser into his pocket. Glasses just responded with his "Knowing and not telling." smile and stepped out of the car. Gregor raised an eyebrows as both Stringbean and Jimbo followed. If he was going to have to leave the car to get the answer then so be it.

Glasses walked around to the back of the sedan and opened the trunk. "Here is the question." He removed an empty glass bottle and a canister of kerosene. "If a bowling alley blows up can you still hear the sound of a pin dropping?"

"You are going to blow it up?" Gregor asked while slowly stepping backwards. "I do not think Mr. Brode will be happy if Stingbean and I are arrested."

"We are not going to get arrested if we do not get caught," Glasses emptied the canister into the bottle and shoved a scrap of cloth inside.

"Oh Molotov," Stringbean gasped as he backed up to Gregor.

"Relax," Glasses assured them. "Jimbo you got a light."

"Here," the buff silver-haired man tossed him a red Bic.

"Thanks." Glasses caught it with one hand. He quickly brought the golden flame to the end of the cloth and raced toward the bowling alley. He was only a few feet behind when he threw it through one of the glass windows and quickly retreated back towards the car.

The explosion from the alley was not large but it was loud enough for Glasses to cover his ears and powerful enough to shatter the glass in the windows. Jimbo and Brode’s men shielded their faces from the bright orange glare.

"That takes care of that," Glasses chuckled as he strutted back to the sedan. He paused when he heard the gunshot from behind and froze at the sight of the windshield and back window shattering. He was not aware of the pain until after the glass fragments started to rain down. Glasses stared down at his chest where blood was pouring out of the hole and staining his shirt. The plastic lighter fell to the ground first followed by his knees and body.

"Glasses!" Jimbo cried out while racing to the fallen man. He checked his comrade’s neck, feeling for the pulse while staring up. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the punk with bright orange hair and light green goggles pushed down over his eyes walking towards them. "You were supposed to be inside."

"Just because we drive here doesn’t mean we meet here," Gosford swaggered toward him. "we used to live here, but we just moved. Only came back to make sure we did not leave anything behind." He raised the still smoking gun, ready to fire another bullet.

___________________________________________________________________________

Broadway glanced at the streets below him as he glided along with Cecilia and Matt. The only sign of any illegal activity was when one person jay walked, not worth gliding down and scaring. He turned around to check the other gargoyles on patrol with him. Cecilia seemed to be as bored as he was and Matt was yawning.

"I think we should take a break?" He asked, unsure if his desicion was a good idea or not.

"I guess," Cecilia greed and began her descent towards the closest building. She stretched her wings, hearing the wing joints pop and snap before she folded them over her chest.

"Looks like your wings are almost as stiff as mine," Matt rustled his bronze wings.

"Kind of a boring night," Broadway mumbled.

"Still more exciting than paperwork," Matt yawned.

"We should go back. You look tired."

"I can spend some time with Holly," Matt smiled at the thought of his daughter. There was nothing moere than he wanted than to sit in the nursery’s rocking chair, holding her as she slowly fell to sleep. She had most of her mother’s features including the same shape of wings as her, but she was also had the same deep gold shade as he. Her wings were a rich bronze hue and had a red lining.

The small explosion from nearby jarred Matt from his thoughts. "We’ll return home later." He spread his wings and allowed the air currents to carry him towards the bowling alley.

"He’s going to need our help," Cecilia caught a thermal followed by Broadway.

Broadway gained in speed the second he heard the gun fire from the direction the explosion was heard. He felt a short pain stab him in the heart at the second the man fell down for a brief second before his eyes went white. The human with the gun stepped forward. The weapon still smoking in his hand.

The aqua hued gargoyle landed behind him without a roar. He was sure the gunman must have heard the sound of him landed and was prepared. He lashed his tail out, the end curling around his ankle and pulled forward.

"The hell?" The gun man cried out as he fell backward on the ground. The hard surface collided with his back. He cringed while slowly opening his eyelids. A large bluish green creature was looming over him. Its lips were pulled back, exposing his fangs. "You guys again."

Broadway did not answer. He grabbed him by his shirt, removing a dozen chest hairs and growled. " Look at how young you are. You should beworking on your future instead of throwing it away. You think this is a game. Pretending to be in a gang is not a game." He held up his gun and without looking crushed it in his hand, feeling the warm metal

"No matter what you do, fatso, I’m going to get away tonight." He watched as the bald man slowly snuck up behind the gargoyle.

"Fatso?" Broadway asked before crying out in pain as baldy struck down slicing across the back of Broadway’s wing, cutting towards the shoulder. His grip loosened on the gunman, dropping him before he turned around to face the man who cut him.

Broadway’s eyes were still illuminated as he growled. He refused to answer this punk, and he didn’t have to. A third man was thrown on top of him. Broadway blinked at the sight of the plumper man landing on top of the bald one before staring up. "Thanks Cecilia."

"You don’t need to mention it, brother." Cecilia landed next to him. The bald punk was still holding onto his knife, even with his comrade on top of him. The gray gargoyle stepped on top of his wrist, crushing down with all her weight until he let go. The spade shape tip of her tail brushed the blade away before she removed her foot.

Matt landed next to the group near the sedan. His eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the gun in the hands of the man with scraggly beige colored hair. Growling he pounced on the man and wrestled the weapon out of his hands before squeezing into a crumpled metal lump.

Matt turned to the scrawny man with him but he was holding onto a cellphone and not a gun. He mouthed the emergency number and pointed at the fallen man. The golden gargoyle ignored him and approached the wounded man. "Glasses?"

"The bastards got him," Jimbo cringed as he leaned over Dracon’s second. "Like they got Joey."

"These are the same ones," Matt asked. He briefly glanced at the third man who just stared at him with wide unblinking eyes.

"We followed them. We thought this was there home base." Jimbo felt for Glasses pulse again, ready to give him CPR if he needed to.

"Were you the one who caused the explosion or was it them?"

"It was us, Bluestone. We just wanted revenge for what they did to Joey. They are trying to take over the Dracon territory."

"I thought Tony was going to give up on that."

"He is. Maybe the four of us shouldn’t have come out, but you don’t mess with the Dracon gang and not expect to get burned," Jimbo stared up at the detective. He had no idea he was talking to a gargoyle. He thought he was speaking with Detective Bluestone but as he studied the gargoyles features he realized he was talking to him. "Bluestone?"

Matt nodded. "It’s a long story."

"Rumors were true," Jimbo turned back to Glasses.

"We are going to stay until the police and paramedics arrive," Matt said as he folded his wings and kneeled down next to him.

__________________________________________________________________________

The sound of knocking at the door aroused Tony from his slumber. He bolted upright on Brode’s couch, sending blankets tumbling over the side. "Where am I?" He mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Anthony Dracon?" A voice on the other side of the door asked. "This is Detective Gamble and Kross. We were told we can find you here."

"Did you find the guys who attacked Pal Joey?"

"Yeah we did," the woman’s voice was solemn. "but we have some bad news for you."

"Bad news?" Tony reached over for his shirt. He heard the click of the doorknob from Brode’s room slowly opening. Good. He did not feel comfortable letting in cops in someone else’s home.

The four of them gathered around Brode’s kitchen table. The Czech man had offered to brew a pot of coffee but the cops did not want to stay too long.

"We caught two of the men responsible," Cross began. "None of them was the one named Gosford, but they matched your descriptions."

"Good," Dracon muttered.

"We also had to arrest your friend Jimbo and two others who work for you, Mr. Brode." He turned to stare at Thomas.

"Which ones?" Brode raised his eyebrows.

"They call themselves Gregor and Stringbean," Gamble aid. "They decided to try to take the law into their own hands by following the one you call Gosford and his cohorts to an abandoned building. Dracon’s associate, Glasses, threw a home made molotov cocktail into the building setting it on fire."

Dracon nodded. His eyebrows furrowed at the detective’s words and tried to digest what was said. "You said you arrested Jimbo, but not Glasses?"

Kross sighed. "Glasses was shot through the back. It missed the spine and heart but it punctured a lung and caused it to collapse."

"He’s in the hospital?"

Kross sighed again. "The paramedics tried to save his life, but he was pronounced dead on arrival."

The detective tried to sound sympathetic, but the words was still a stab wound to Dracon’s chest. Dracon shook his head. He could feel the portests form in his mind, not believeing whath e had jsut heard, but his toungue was frozen to the bottom of his mouth. He couldn’t speak.

"I’m sorry."

"No," Dracon gripped onto the edge of the table, his fingers pressed hard into the wood, threatening to dig into it. "He can’t be."

"Tony," Brode approached him and placed his hand on top of his.

"Not Glasses," He closed his eyes, trying to force back the tears. "Shouldn’t have gone. Should have let Maza taken care of it."

"Tony, let it out."

Dracon latched his face onto his desk and cradled his head. Maybe he could let Brode see him shed a few tears, but not anyone else, especially not the cops.

________________________________________________________________________

"What is this?" Mrs. Keen said once she was handed the yellow piece of paper. She unfolded the picture and stared at the drawing. A small silver robot with a body shaped like an upside down triangle was rolling with a single large wheeled foot. Thin stick figure like limbs with noticble joints clutched onto a mop and a grill shaped mouth was turned up into a smile. "Is he going to be your mascot?" She pushed her cat framed glasses up higher on her long nose.

"That is who we want for our mascot, yes." Brode nodded. He was accompanied by Tony Dracon, Stab, Lil Mutt and Pal Joey. The bruises on Joey’s face had turned to a brownish-yellow shade, but his arm was still in a sling.

"You want us to start working on your add campaigns now?" She raised her thin over plucked eyebrows. "You are aware this is the start of Memorial day weekend."

"We had a funeral to prepare for," Brode answered while gently patting Tony on the back.

"I’m sorry. We can start working on the adds this Monday."

"You may start, but wait until June to publish the adds. We had just begun to produce the product and have only started to fill out warehouse we are using for storage."

"No problem. we just need a few things. Mostly we need to know what this cleaner-"

"It’s not a cleaner," Stab spoke up. "It’s a bacterial killer, odor remover and fragrance mist."

"We need to know those things, plus every other detail, including the different fragrances. We also need to know one minor thing."

"And that is?" Brode asked.

She held up the drawing and smiled."What’s the name of this cute little guy?"

"Jack Glass," Tony spoke up. "We are naming him Jack Glass." He folded his hands together and sighed. The name will be forever honoring the men he and Brod hade lost.