Gargoyles Fan Fiction ❯ Of The Night ❯ Caged ( Chapter 3 )

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Of The Night

Three

Saying the night had been interesting for Lydia was putting it incredibly mildly. She knew from how Brooklyn had spoken before that there were more gargoyles, though she had no idea what the number was until she met them. Then seeing them for herself, talking to them, and starting to understand them – it was a huge learning experience for her. The only one of the gargoyles who seemed less intelligent than her was Broadway, but she knew from a look that it’d be stupid to point it out.

Being regaled by tales of their exploits had been the highlight of her evening for most of the night, being more than entertaining and impressive. Although she’d spent most of the time with Brooklyn, away from the others, she grew to know them all fairly well by the end of the night. She even got to meet Goliath again shortly before dawn, as he glided back to the castle.

And he’d shown up with Elisa, which was a huge downer on Lydia’s night. She recognized the other woman instantly, having evaded her more than once in the past two years. To top it off, Elisa not only recognized her as well, but also mentioned that Lydia had an outstanding warrant for her arrest. That meant she’d have to pointedly avoid Elisa in the future.

The only reason why she was positive she wasn’t arrested then and there was that Brooklyn had already offered to take her back to her apartment moments before. Though it took a while for him to convince her it was perfectly safe, she was already on his back when Elisa said all these things. Rather than let the arrest take place, she’d urged Brooklyn to go or take off; whichever he chose to call it.

During the glide, he’d tried to ask her about the warrant Elisa mentioned, but Lydia was far too engrossed in the moment to reply in anything less than gibberish. Eventually he gave up to finish the flight.

The entire trip only took a few minutes, if that, yet it still felt absolutely incredible to her. She had never before been in any type of situation where she could feel the wind that clearly and from so far up. In fact, at the beginning it’d been extremely hard to keep from screaming, much like her first time on a roller coaster had felt.

Brooklyn also decided about halfway through to pull some tricks, probably just to give her a thrill. It certainly worked, too. Lydia was close to screaming for the second time, but it was like a pleasurable kind of fear she’d felt. At last, at the end, when they reached her apartment roof, she was pumped with excitement, and surprised to find that her knees gave out the same moment she touched ground.

Brooklyn laughed as he pulled her back up, but she was laughing, too. She could never have fully described what she went through, short though it was. Nonetheless, she found herself trying to, regardless of whether or not he was catching anything she said. The full rambles included the words: wind, night, rush, flying and angel repeatedly. At the end, even she didn’t know exactly what she’d said, but he definitely looked amused.

Then he departed, after telling her she could come by Wyvern castle anytime she wanted; nobody would turn her away as long as she never threatened anyone who lived there. She took that part seriously, though she doubted she’d be returning there anytime soon, knowing that Elisa wanted her arrested. On the other hand, she might be judging the woman too harshly – police officers upheld the law, which meant, of course, that those who had warrants for arrest were to be taken in.

She thought this over as she climbed into her window and got ready for bed. Having spent almost her entire night at the castle included a meal later on in the evening, which meant she wasn’t hungry now. And once she was ready for bed, and having successfully concluded that Elisa wasn’t unreasonable nor a person to be feared, she was more than tired enough to sleep.

* * *

One of Lydia’s special skills that she found particularly valuable was her awareness. For as long as she could remember, she always knew when someone else was around. Anyone who tried to sneak into her room while she slept failed; she knew when the door opened. Which is why, when someone from outside her apartment tried to stealthily slide open her window, it woke her up.

She always kept two weapons under her bed, in easy reach of her hand. One was a bat, the other a knife with a five-inch blade, which she practiced throwing. Instinctively, as she realized someone was trying to sneak into her apartment, her hand sought and found the handle of the bat.

She kept her breathing even, waiting and listening, until she was sure whoever it was had come close. Then, with all the speed she could muster, she swung the bat and spun to see the assailant in one. The sight of who it was both surprised her and made the eventual bruises worthwhile.

It was one of the men who had attacked her on the roof two nights ago. Though he recoiled, trying to protect himself, it didn’t stop the bat from colliding with him. He fell back with a yelp and a very clear crack, instilling a hope in her that she’d broken his arm. It was too bad for her that there seemed to be a plan in motion this night.

Injured but mobile, he reached her door and unlocked it. Apparently somebody outside was waiting earnestly for that moment, for the door was kicked in – further harming man number one. The other three assailants were there, crowded in her doorway, and the leader now with a firearm of some sort. So she did the first thing she could think of: she threw the bat at them.

The gun went off, but it was pointed at the ceiling, missing her entirely. She didn’t stick around to wait and see if a second man had a gun as well; she bolted for the window, knowing it was open. She knew very well that she had a lead, and that the lead was enough to evade all four men, but she still felt like laughing at herself.

She was wearing pajamas; a small top and shorts pair made of silk, and had no slip on shoes that were on the way. Worst of all, it was early October, definitely getting colder with each day. She was in no state to go romping about outside.

Nonetheless, it was either that, or suffer god-knew-what at the hands of four men obviously intent on killing her. She managed to get out of the window fully before hearing a second shot ricochet off the metal railings. And here she thought hitting the railing only happened in movies, as special effects.

It was entirely too easy to her, climbing up the fire escape. She’d spent several years developing a springboard way of continuing motion, something like how a cheetah ran smoothly. She didn’t even need to take the stairs up; it was one fluid motion to climb up three stories and onto the roof. And being barefoot only made it easier to maintain a grip.

It wasn’t until she hopped the wall onto the roof that she realized it was at least three hours until dusk, judging from the angle of the sun. She’d been entertaining a fleeting hope that it was nighttime and that Brooklyn would manage a second miraculous rescue, but after seeing that sunlight, it was dashed fairly hard.

But that didn’t mean the castle was off-limits. She realized then that she could count just about any building as a safe haven, even as she only had Castle Wyvern in mind at the moment.

Hearing clanging as men got onto the fire escape kicked her back into motion, ignoring their vulgar shouts of what they were going to do with her once they caught her. She took a run towards a very specific route she’d developed a few months back, and had practiced many times before. Though granted, in the practices she was always wearing shoes and much better protective clothing.

The first jump went flawlessly all the same, making her smile. She probably even made it before the first man reached the roof, but she wasn’t going to take that chance. She kept up her run, glad she’d tried so hard to teach herself how to turn a landing into a continuous run.

Now seeming far away, she could hear the men cursing. A second later, however, and it sounded like someone spotted her, which was proven as soon as she heard a third gunshot. It struck somewhere behind her, and given the track record, she had to assume these men were not trained marksmen. She took a second leap just as she heard a body landing hard behind her.

She grabbed hold of a horizontal pole, which swung predictably to help cover the distance to the third rooftop. From there, she could already see the other side: a fire escape and a dumpster, always kept shut. It was a five-part to pull off the next stunt, from off the roof, to the fire escape, to the opposite wall, to the dumpster and finally to the sidewalk. And with the pole swung to her side, she imagined those men would be much more strained to find a way down.

A forth shot was fired, then a fifth and sixth, the shots getting better from the sound of where they struck. She hoped all they had was a single six-shooter pistol.

Off the roof she went, then down to the ground as planned. She was breathing too hard, she noted; she wouldn’t be able to keep this up for too much longer. She flagged a cab. As she climbed in, she saw the driver eye her in a slightly uncomfortable way, deciding then to get right back out.

“Thanks for that,” she said snidely to him, slamming the door. Rather than break into another run, she took a stroll, staring down anybody who stared back at her.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Following the sound of that voice led Lydia to spot Elisa. “Pajamas,” she answered. “Oh, hey, are you bulletproof?”

Elisa narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Some guys broke into my apartment, so I took off. So far I’ve discovered there’s four and at least one has a gun,” she explained, still a bit out of breath.

Elisa gestured her closer, taking off her red jacket. “Alright, come over here. Wear this,” she offered, holding out the jacket.

Lydia took it more than a bit gratefully, taking in its lingering warmth. She sighed. “Thanks, Elisa. I wasn’t expecting you to help me out without mentioning that warrant.”

“Safety first,” Elisa reasoned. She led Lydia to her car. Once they were both in, she started talking. “Okay, start at the beginning. Who’s chasing you?”

* * *

Around an hour later found Lydia in a holding cell of the precinct, now wearing some clothes kept in the building storage and a pair of oversized boots that made it funny to walk. She had been fully indicted, had her prints and pictures taken, and been told exactly what she’d pay for three counts of trespassing and seven counts of evading police.

Directly to her left, in the cell next door, as it were, stood three grown men. That was three-quarters of the group who attacked her in her apartment, the last man apparently having gotten away somehow. She found it amusing how those men wanted to kill her so badly, but couldn’t reach her.

“. . .”

A little out of earshot was Elisa, whom Lydia had been keeping an eye on. She was puzzled about the elder woman, to say the least; “for her own protection” she’d been indicted and thrown in a cell. She considered this a step back from being safe, especially with the last of the quartet still loose somewhere.

“. . .composite sketch,” she heard someone say.

She wanted to groan. She shouldn’t be here, her mind kept saying. She wouldn’t say she was claustrophobic, yet at the same time, she hated to be pinned down. A holding cell was a terrible place for her to be; it frustrated her to an insane amount.

“Blow me already!” she snapped, having reached her limit. She jumped up, with everyone in earshot looking at her. “How long am I gonna be in here, huh?! Till the rest of you cripples die of old age?!” She turned to the three now-laughing men in the cell adjoining hers. “And you guys can suck my --”

“Lydia!” Elisa interrupted, overriding the end of Lydia’s rant. She came over, giving a disapproving look. “Was that completely necessary?”

“Yes, mom,” Lydia replied sarcastically.

Elisa sighed, looking far from amused. “You’re not in any danger, Lydia.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t notice man number four missing from my neighboring cell.”

“We confiscated his gun, so he’s unarmed,” Elisa countered.

“Oh, well, let’s jump for joy, then,” Lydia returned smartly. “Because as everyone knows, criminals are unable of having more than one gun at a time.”

Elisa’s next sound was more like a huff. “Are you quite finished?”

“I haven’t even gotten started, hun,” Lydia cooed, grasping the bars. “But since you’re such a nice lady I figure I shouldn’t insult you entirely too much.”

“Wanna ‘insult’ me, baby?” one of the men jeered. “I’m up for it!”

“Lemme have some kind of a blunt object,” Lydia said pointedly to Elisa, lowering her voice. “I betcha I could get them to tell me where their boss went.”

“How do you the escaped one is the boss?” Elisa asked.

“Isn’t that how it always goes? Besides, if the boss is caught, he’s not the boss anymore, is he?” She smirked. “I promise not to kill ‘em.”

“Lydia, I’m not giving you a blunt object,” Elisa told her. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have other things to do.”

“Impasse!” Lydia snapped, snatching Elisa’s sleeve as she turned to leave. When the older woman returned a glare, she went on. “So when am I gonna be let out, d’ya think?”

Elisa’s gaze softened. “We don’t want to keep a minor overnight, even an emancipated one. But it hinges on someone paying bail.”

Lydia sighed harshly, letting go of the other woman’s sleeve. “I’m gonna be here for a while, then.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I have nobody,” Lydia answered easily, shrugging.

Elisa looked surprised. “Not even a family?”

“I was adopted,” Lydia agreed, “but I was also removed the same day I emancipated myself.”

“So. . .you have no one?”

Lydia smiled, though it was strained. “Except for our mutual friends, yeah.”

Elisa’s eyes widened a little as she got the gist. “Well, in that case, you’re going to be here for a while,” she said, reluctantly.

“Or you could, y’know. . .leave behind a key or something,” Lydia offered. “I’m pretty sure I’m clever enough to find a way to get out on my own.”

Elisa was smiling fondly as she walked off, shaking her head.

Lydia pouted. Lucky for her that she knew her own size – these bars were just far enough that she would likely be able to squeeze between them. The downside was how tight of a squeeze it would be.

Next door, the men laughed and jeered more, gesturing her. Her face fell. Another factor was those three bastards. It was highly unlikely that they would stay quiet, if she found a good moment to slip out. No, they wouldn’t stay silent; they would hoot and holler so loud that there was no way she’d be able to escape unnoticed.

She hated cages.