1 - A Voice From The Other World... - Chapter IV
#4 of Shadowdancer
Shadowdancer
By Dracon
[Notice: The characters and events within are inspired by the "Gargoyles" TV Series and as such credit goes to the creators of said series. If any characters appear in the story from said series, those characters belong to their creators.
Should anyone wish to use the characters or events within in their own works, permission is hereby granted to do so. I just ask that you let me know if you are going to do so and provide credit in your work.
Underage viewers should not read this series, and all readers do so at their own risk.]
"A Voice From The Other World..."
----Chapter IV----
Time passed, and the city went about its daily life, its people never looked up, never saw their slumbering guardians. A fire broke out in the suburbs, consumed a home. Accidents and violence sent several people to the hospital. The police, diligent but overworked, chased after drug rings and thieves in a valiant struggle for justice.
Yet, there was also hope. Three children were born in the city, a man's life was saved by a risky, experimental surgery, and a mother found out that her son had been accepted to Yale.
All in all, a fairly normal day in the big city, yet it was a world that Jamie would never see again. Her mind was sluggish in its stone sleep, and hovered between dreams and stream-of-consciousness, but this thought resonated within her brain.
Her new form was wondrous, and her new companions intrigued her, but the realization that she would never again feel sunlight upon her face, and likely would never be able to walk down the street without causing a riot makes her wonder if it was all really worth it?
Before that night, she had little intention of trying to return to her home, but between this feeling of loss and the sight of Branson's melancholia, she found herself thinking that perhaps her place wasn't here, perhaps it was where she came from, and even if that wasn't where she belonged, she still began to feel that she had an obligation to try and return Jessica to this world.
Abruptly, she felt her thoughts start to accelerate, and she realized from last night's experience that sunset must have been almost upon her. Braced for the oncoming spasmodic release from stone sleep, she broke through the outer layer of lithodermis, eyes glowing red for an instant as she fully awakened.
She looked out upon the city, hypnotized by the glittering lights of nocturnal urban activity. In her old life, she had rarely taken the time to simply watch the city lights. She had always been so busy, hustling from one task to another, and never took the time to simply take in the world around her.
She meditated on this, enjoyed this moment of perfect beauty she had unexpectedly discovered before she faced the night. She felt an urge to spread her wings and fly amongst the city's towers, but three things held her back: She didn't even know if her wings were functional, testing them by taking a flying leap off the building didn't make sense to her, and she felt a certain obligation to check on Branson, first.
She turned and strode to the other side of the roof, where Branson roosted through the day, sitting in the classic 'Thinker' pose. He seemed calmer now than he did last night, more in control of himself. "Branson, may I join you?"
He jumped a little, and turned to look at her, seeming a little distracted. "Yeah, sure. Have a seat."
Since it has been doing well for her so far, Jamie tried the direct approach. "How are you feeling? Any better than last night?"
He shrugged, spreading his arms expansively. "I guess. You know, I almost thought about jumping off here last night?"
Jamie gasped, but he continued. "Don't worry, I wasn't gonna do anything rash with the three of you to take care of, and it probably wouldn't have hurt me too badly anyway. And I know for a fact that Jessica wouldn't want me to do anything rash, but..."
His voice trailed off, and he looked out into space again. Jamie gave him a moment, and then tried again. "Branson, you know I'm going to try and get her back, right?"
He nodded, a strained smile on his face. "I know you will. I'm a good judge of character, and I trusted you from first sight."
Jamie beamed at the compliment. "I'll probably need your help, but... I don't belong here, Branson. I thought maybe that I could make a home here, but I thought about it during the night, and this just isn't my place."
Branson frowned, placed a hand on her shoulder. "I hope it's nothing we've done?"
She shook her head quickly. "No, it's not that. It's just... everything is so different here. And when it's not, that makes it all the more strange."
He pondered that for a moment, commenting, "I guess I can understand that. I'd imagine that I'd have similar doubts if I found myself as a human one day."
Seeing that Branson seemed more relaxed, Jamie took her leave, and remembered her appointment with Trent. She walked slowly through the house, worked to try and commit everything to memory.
A map was helpful, but it could only do so much. She didn't know how long she'd be here, and thought it was possible that it was a wasted effort... and yet, even if she were swept back to her world this instant, she would like to keep her memories of this place as vivid as possible.
She returned to her room, entered the closet. She decided to explore a little and kill some time, and examined the dresser. Well, less of a dresser, more of an armoire, really.
When she opened the large top-most compartment, she was amazed to see the contents. Inside were incense burners, small wooden bowls, bags of various types of earth and sands, and other miscellaneous items.
It took a moment for them to register in her mind, but she dimly recalled hearing of similar things used in magic in her world. But... that never worked... did it?
A pegboard was inlaid on the back surface, and several out-of-place seeming objects rest on it. One was a knife, similar to the sword that Elayne gave her, but with a much shorter blade. She noticed a gap where the Keris sword seemed like it would fit, and made a note to put it there next time she had it.
There was also an oddly shaped firearm, which looked somehow alien, with a plastic-like exterior. She picked it up, and noted the shortened stock, allowing her to hold it in one hand and cradle it against her bicep, and saw a familiar symbol imprinted into the grip.
The Xanatos X! She vaguely recalled reading that Xanatos Enterprises was involved in high-tech weapons development, specifically experimenting with weapon-grade particle beam accelerators.
Could that be what this was? The configuration didn't seem like anything she'd seen in any of the numerous action movies she'd watched in the past, and it did have a distinctly strange feel. Very odd, she figured she would have to ask Elayne about it.
There was also a bizarrely anachronistic looking helmet, which looked like something from the Vietnam War. But there was also a series of unusual-looking electronic equipment attached to it, including a transparent crystal eyepiece.
Putting it on, she noted that there were grooves cut into it for her horns, evidently another custom job by Elayne. It fit quite well, much more comfortable than it seemed. She decided against fiddling with the equipment, though, figured that she would get a primer on it later.
It occurred to her that it was reminiscent of the Aliens helmets... finally, some common connection between herself and Jessica?
In the drawers of the armoire, there were numerous pieces of jewelry, of all manner of descriptions, many of them very ornate. Jamie shivered when she thought of how many thousands, or tens of thousands, of dollars this collection must represent.
It wouldn't have surprised her to find out that some or all of them were magical in nature. Thinking about it, she found it interesting that she had come to accept that idea so easily.
Realizing she had spent far too much examining Jessica's effects, she quickly stripped off her shirt and leggings, and tossed them onto the handles of armoire.
She went to pull off the bra, but when she reached back for the zipper, she was shocked when she felt bare skin. Turning to the mirror, she saw that the patterning on the bra had merged with her back like it did around her breasts.
This posed an odd problem, and she attempted to feel along her back, trying to figure out how to remove it. She concentrated on the problem, and was stunned when she felt a faint presence in her mind.
~What do you desire of me, mistress?~
Jamie gaped, and sputtered. "Who's... who's there?"
~The garment you wear. What do you desire of me?~
Shrugging, she decided to go with the flow. "What are you, and how do you work?"
A few seconds passed, then it 'spoke' again. ~First query: Condenser Bra, designed to precipitate magical energy into physical solution for use in enchantment. You created me. Second query: Induction of lactation in wearer through psuedonatural processes, precipitating small quantities of mana into the milk of the wearer, providing a metastable storage form."
Jamie considered this for a moment. It certainly answered her earlier question, yet it provoked another, far more startling, question. "Are you... alive?"
The voice sounded firm, definite. ~Negative. Personality profile provided by a bound spirit, released after imprint established itself.~ It took on a slightly more natural tone. ~I am no more alive than a pocket calculator. The enchantment inlayed in my alloy surfaces provides the semblance of thought in the way that the programming of a computer provides the semblance of thought.~
The possibilities astounded her. A computer, of sorts, made from magical energies? That could provide an amazing degree of functionality. She asked her final question. "How do I remove you?"
~Simply focus the command word removal in your mind and I will release." She did so, and felt that arousing feeling of someone stroking her bosom again, and in a moment, it had returned to its inert, fabric-based form. She unzipped it and set it down with more care than the other clothes out of... respect for its capabilities.
Having lived with it for a day and a half now, the lack of support for her copious breasts surprised her once more. The weight was not uncomfortable, per-say, but was a distinctly unusual sensation.
She searched through the clothes rack, and looked for something to support her bosom. She found a floral patterned halter, cheerful and yet not tacky, that seemed solid enough to be supportive, and put it on along with a pair of skin-tight jogging shorts. She walked over to the mirror, and examined herself again.
She wondered briefly if it was perverse of her to be turned on so much by her own body, whether it was some lingering trait of her human mind or something embedded in her new, composite personality.
She heads out, retracing her steps with a skill she'd never possessed in her old life. Noticing that she had beaten Trent up to the roof, she decided to do some stretching exercises.
Figuring that if sword fighting is anything at all like track running, she could get some rather unpleasant cramping or even muscle tearing. And, when she considered how much muscle mass was packed onto her frame, she figured that could be crippling.
She was busy performing some shoulder exercises when a strong grip grabbed her arm, not blocking it, but providing resistance. Jamie grinned, and pushed harder, figuring her strength could easily overcome Trent's grip.
Surprisingly, though, she couldn't budge her arm against his grasp. He chuckled, squeezed harder for a moment, and then released. "Not bad, Jamie. You're as strong as Jessica was, as I'd guessed. But you've got to be more subtle."
She turned, looked Trent in the eyes. "How did you hold me back?" She looked at his arms, commenting, "That shouldn't even be physically possible."
He laughed, shook his head. "It's called subtlety, my dear. Look at your arm. I didn't try to stop the muscle, you're right there. But by gripping where I did, I could use leverage to block your movement."
He moved in, as if to point out another weak point, but instead, he flipped her over his head without even seeming to strain against her weight. She landed with a deafening thud, reeling from the force.
She started to rise, but halted, watching Trent warily. "What was that for, man?"
He shrugged. "Told yeh, subtlety. 'Know thine enemy. But in knowing him do not forget above all to know thyself,' and all that rubbish. Before I can teach you to fight, you've got to know how you're made, yeah?"
He walked over and offered her his hand. Taking it cautiously, she rose to her feet, and rubbed her butt. "I get what you're saying, but couldn't you have, I don't know, told me that, first?"
He took on a manic grin, and rubbed his hands together. "Could have, but that wouldn't have been as much fun. The look on your face... fantastic!" At that, he laughed aloud, and despite herself, Jamie joined in as well.
When she caught her breath, she asked him, "I'm curious. Yesterday, you were willing to dismiss me as bad joke... why the change?"
Trent pointed at his watch, commenting, "Time, I guess. Branson's a bit of a prankster, and I figured you were his accomplice. But I don't think you two'd keep it up that long." He spread his arms, smiling. "Besides, I'm always grumpy before I have my 'morning' coffee, yeah?"
Jamie chuckled, "So even though you don't need food or water, you've got a caffeine addiction?"
He smiled widely, nodding, "Yup. Ironic, innit?"
He gestured with his hand as though pointing to a blackboard, saying, "Right, then. First point, anatomy. I'll get you some sketches later, but for now, let's show you the good bits, yeah?"
He pointed to her feet. "Note the feet, the stance. Different from a human's, put that to good use. You can get some nasty leverage on a kick, you know, and your stride's longer, too."
He then pointed to her tail. "That's the secret, the tail. Kind of like a third leg, gives you great balance. Makes a good club, too, when you need it. No one expects it, that's the truth."
He started to point to her chest, but stopped in mid-gesture. "You mind, eh, moving them out of the way?"
Jamie gave him the look. "What'd you just ask?"
He shrugged, moved closer. "Your knockers. In the way of my demonstration, and I daresay you'd rather move 'em yourself than have me do it."
He looked into her eyes, a schoolboy grin on his face, which looked distinctly odd on a muzzle, but still quite disarming. "Or would you rather I do it? Makes no difference to me."
With a laugh, she hefted her bosom, allowing him to place his hands along her waist. If this were Branson, her face would probably be hot enough to cook with now, but Trent seemed so focused, intent on making his point, and with a certain innocent charm, that she found herself laughing it off.
He quickly placed his hands along the bottom of her ribcage, and started to press inward, raising them in a smooth motion. "You feel that? Different from your other muscles, yeah? That's called the glacis, it's like a built-in breastplate. A second layer of muscle over the chest, they drive your wings, and make your chest tougher to boot."
He let go, motioned for her to release her breasts, then grasped her hands and placed them on the same spot on his chest. The motion brought the two of them very close together, with the inevitable result of their difference in height being that his face was pressed directly into her cleavage.
This, then, resulted in his voice sounding rather muffled. "Kind of cramped in here, yeah? Well, I wanted you to feel what I meant; all gargoyles have it." She could feel the sliding of the muscle layers against each other as he shifted his wings, an excellent object lesson. He let go of her hands, stepped back and gave her some room again.
She almost thought that he had somehow failed to notice how close he had been to her, and where his head had been, until he flashed another grin and said, "Nice headrests, by the by. Mind if I come by again?"
Starting to get used to his playful banter, she laughed and pointed toward his impressive maleness. "Only if you return the favor."
With a chuckle, he made a spinning motion with his hand. "All the way 'round, that's a girl. Have you tried your wings yet?"
She shook her head, saying, "No... I've been afraid to, really."
He nodded, "Good idea. Tricky thing, flight. We can't fly, anyway, if you want to be picky. Not enough lift or thrust, I gather. But we can glide well enough, and it's pretty close if you can find a good thermal system."
Jamie spread her wings, looked intently at them.
Trent shook his head, saying, "Not yet. Got too much else to do. But you'll get the hang of it."
He held his chin in his hand, muttered aloud, "What else, what else... Well, not really important in a fight, but nifty anyway. You've noticed the, uh," he made a low, inhuman growl, sounding little like his normal voice, "that we do, right?"
Jamie gaped at the ease with which he switched from one 'voice' to the other. "How did you do that?"
He shrugged, pointing at his throat. "False vocal cords, sort of like a cat's. Only instead of a purr, it acts like an organic subwoofer."
He paused for a moment, then says, "Well, I guess that about wraps up the anatomy lesson. Mostly it's the same as for humans, as you can probably tell better than me. Now for weapon skills. Now, you're prob'bly expecting some grandiose speech about how 'you must respect your blade, it is a representation of your soul, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."
He snorted, looked disgusted. "That's a load of wash, believe me. A sword or a gun is no different from a screwdriver; they're just tools for certain jobs. Now, Branson says us Gargoyles are supposed to 'guardians of humanity', and that we must fight in the course of our duty. I figure that if we get in a tussle, we've prob'bly messed up along the way."
He looked at her, solemnly. "No one should ever be forced to end the life of another. I take it that's something you've never had on your conscience?"
Jamie shook her head, thankful that this was the case.
Trent continued to speak, saying, "Good. I hope you never have to, either."
His voice trailed off, and Jamie saw an intense sorrow loom in his eyes. She quickly guessed that he had not only killed, he probably had done so many times. He seemed lost in his own memories, filled with guilt.
To try and bring him out of it, Jamie asked, "Well... can't I just try to knock them out? Disable, not destroy?"
He turned his head, eye-to-eye, and ice seemed to cloud over his face. "No. No, that's not the way either. Good way to get yourself offed, for one, and it's not the simple."
Some primordial instinct arose in Jamie's mind, and adrenaline began to flood her system. Something about the way he was looking at her...
Time seemed to stretch like taffy. She saw him reach for his back, a glint of silver, a flicker of movement, timed to the staccato of her own heartbeat. An inhuman look crossed his face, her hands up in front of her face, a glint of silver, a pair of throaty roars, then darkness.
Discontinuity.