Gargoyle: Origins

This is the first story in the Gargoyle Series, as well as being the first in the Mechanical Monsters story arc. In this edition, Davis is approached by a mysterious man, who claims to be a government agent. This sets in motion several events, eventually leading to a showdown with Gargoyle's first villain: Iron Porcupine. In an epic final battle, you'll find out wether or not stone really is stronger than steel. You'll have to read it and see!

Chapter 1
Davis DeGraff was a strongly-built man. He had muscular arms and a thick chest, but still had a calm and peaceful demeanor. He had dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a thin beard that covered his chin. People said that he resembled a lumberjack, and that all he'd need was an axe and he'd get the job.

The dashboard rattled as he drove, and the engine sounded just like you'd expect an old truck to sound. The vehicle was rust-brown, and was about as old as Davis himself. The radio had stopped working years ago, leaving him to drive to work in utter silence. He could've easily afforded a better truck, but he knew that he would never get one. The truck was all that he had left of his father.

He made a living at the only factory in Porvanir. It was called Scott Machines, and was owned by a man named Alexander "Stonewall" Scott. The man behind the creatively named company had earned his nickname due to his reputation of having an unbreakable will. If he wanted something, he got it. This was one of the things that made him a good boss. He wasn't what you'd call a kind person, but he did his job we'll.

Scott Machines was one of the biggest factories in the world, making everything from toasters to televisions. Their slogan was "providing necessities," even though most of their wares were far from necessary. The company was the only one of its kind, providing custom machines as well as day-to-day appliances. People could order specially made machines, like a television with a microwave built into the back, and Scott Machines would build it and ship it. For a price, of course. This system made it one of the most profitable businesses in the US, maybe even the world.

Davis, despite having never been to college, was one of the smartest guys at Scott Machines. He had an innate ability for how machines worked, and could practically build any device you could imagine. The only reason he didn't have a top level job was because Mr. Scott hated him. He considered Davis a threat to his position, and for good reasons. Davis could probably build anything that Scott could, challenging his title of best metalworker in the company. Scott usually handled the most complicated orders that the people requested, leaving the usual jobs of a CEO to his advisors and such.

Davis pulled into the driveway of the factory, resting his car in the shadow of the tower. Scott Machines was over a hundred stories high, making it one of the tallest buildings in Porvanir. The first third of the building was semi-hollow, consisting of the enormous factory floor. It had landings and conveyor belts spread throughout the massive chamber, making a maze of pathways. The floor was where most of the appliances were made, like simple toasters or your average refridgerator. The custom orders were instead to the offices that made up the rest of the building, where workers like Davis would come up with ways to build the frequently bizarre inventions. These builders needed alot of creativity and skill to do what they do, and it was a very hard job to get. Davis was lucky that Mr. Scott even allowed him to have a job of that magnitude.

Davis stepped out of the truck, humming a song that had been stuck in his head. It probably got knocked out when the rock him, though.

The pebble came from a few cars down the parking lot, and Davis turned to find the person responsible. He saw three men heading his way, and they were people that Davis had the unfortunate pleasure of knowing.

Their names were Wade, John and Eric, but most people called them by their nicknames. Only John had any standing in Scott Machines, handling the frequent military requests for weapons and bombs. Wade and Eric were just assembly line workers.

John Stutler, like I said, handled the weapon requests from the military. He was good at making bombs, but better at making enemies. People called him Gunner, referencing both his job and his temper. He was notorious for the gun that he carried, even though he had never actually threatened anyone with it. Davis assumed that it was just a matter of time before it happened, though.

Wade Finch, frequently called Slasher, got his nickname from a time he had gotten into a fight and pulled a knife on the guy. He was one of the fastest fighters Davis knew, and was able to knock you to the ground before you ever see him coming.

Eric Goddard was the leader of the trio, and went by the name of Crasher. He was ridiculously fit, with muscles as thick as most people's heads. His most frightening feature were the tattoos he had, on both of his arms as well as his chest. They depicted his bones as cages, with skeletons sitting inside. They were quite intimidating, adding more to his frightening physique. He had a tendency to pick fights, but few people dared to take him on. He was one of Davis's least favorite people, and you're about to see why.

"Hey there," said the man. He was obviously from New Jersey, possessing a thick accent.

"Hey, Eric," replied Davis. He tried to stay away from the trio as much as he could, but Crashed had always had it out for him.

"Don't you wanna stay and chat," replied Crasher, grinning menacingly and eying Davis like a lion would eye its prey.

"I think that all four of us have jobs to do," replied Davis calmly. He was strong, but not nearly as strong as this guy.

"Right you are," continued Crasher, leaning up against Davis's truck. "So how about we get this over with so that you can get right on that."

Slasher and Gunner grabbed Davis by the arms and pinned him against his truck. Crasher calmly walked in front of him and put his hands in his pockets.

"You and I have unfinished business."

"What are you talking about?"

Crasher stopped smiling and transitioned into a blank stare. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You told Scott somethin' that we both know wasn't true."

"I only told Scott that I saw you kick that ladder out from under the..."

"Well maybe I should get Slasher to cut your eyes out so that you don't see things like that anymore."

Davis just sighed. "Do you really want to do this today, Eric? I'll go to my office, you go to your workstation, and we won't have to bother with each other."

"I like my idea a little better."

Davis had thought that Crasher was bluffing about all of this, but now it was clear that he wasn't. Slasher pulled out his pocketknife, unfolding it with a murderous grin. He slowly brought the dagger to Davis's face, inching closer and closer to its target.

Davis saw his chance and swung his leg, knocking Slasher's out from under him. The knife clattered to the ground, and the other two men went into attack mode.

Gunner pulled the pistol from its holster, aiming it at Davis's head. The look on his face told Davis that he was willing to pull the trigger, but that didn't keep Davis from trying to defend himself.

Davis swung his arm up and knocked Gunner's hand to the side. Before he could get his aim back, Gunner took an elbow to the face and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Davis saw Slasher reaching for his knife from across the pavement, but Davis kicked it away before he could reach it. It skid across the parking lot, ending up far from Slasher's reach. By doing this, however, he left himself open to an attack from the trio's leader.

Crasher brought his arm down on Davis's back, almost knocking him to the ground. Davis managed to stay on his feet, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to handle many more blows like that. He quickly spun around to face Crasher, reading himself for another hit.

This time, Crasher attempted to bring his knee to Davis's stomach. He managed to get out of the way, leaving Crasher to miss his mark and stumble forwards.

While he attempted to regain balance, Davis grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the side of the truck. It had more dents than Davis could count, so he figured that it wouldn't matter in the long run.

Crasher fell to the ground, and Davis thought that he had won. He didn't realize that his enemy had landed right next to Gunner's pistol, but he didn't notice this until it was too late.

Crasher rose from the ground, aiming the gun at Davis's face. He had a wild look in his eyes, and Davis knew that he wasn't going to hesitate pulling the trigger.

"Do you believe in God, Davis?" asked Crasher, panting from the fight. "I hope not, because I want you to burn."

Before he could pull the trigger and end Davis's life, there was a loud sound. Crasher fell to the pavement in an unconscious heap, and revealed the man who had been standing behind him.

The man had black, oily hair, and was wearing stained clothes from years of working with machines. He was holding a metal pipe in his hand, bent from where it had struck Crasher in the back of his head. This Jan's name was Roy Johnson, and he also happened to be the closest thing Davis had to a brother.

"Nice hit," laughed Davis as he picked up the gun from Crashed's unconscious hand. He took out the bullets and put them in his pocket, throwing the empty gun to the ground. "They won't be needing these anymore, will they."

"What about that dude?" asked Roy, motioning to Slasher. He had gotten up and was running away towards the factory, leaving his knife behind.

"He won't be a problem," replied Davis. "He's nothing without Crasher and Gunner to back him up."

"You better hope so," laughed Roy, "cause that dude seems like the kind to ambush you in a dark alley or something."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I don't have to drive through any alleys."

The two men laughed and began to walk towards the building. They had known each other for years, and were practically brothers. The only thing that said otherwise was their DNA.

As Davis headed into Scott Machines, he had no clue that his life was about to be forever changed. In answer to Crasher's question, yes. Davis did believe in God. And he had plans for Davis that would change the world.

Across the parking lot, a man picked up Slasher's knife and inspected it in his fingers. He had silver hair that matched the color of his suit, slicked back with so much gel that it looked metallic. He had sunglasses over his eyes and a cigar in his mouth. As he watched Davis and Roy enter Scott machines, he pulled a phone out of his pocket and dialed the all-too familiar number.

As soon as the other side picked up, he began to speak. "Sir," he said, "I think I just found my target."

Chapter 2
Davis and Roy entered the building through the lobby, making their way to the Factory Floor. The heat hit them as soon as the opened the door, emanating off of the furnaces that melted down the metal needed for construction.

Davis and Roy passed hundreds of workers on their way up the stairs, going by floor after floor of iron-mesh flooring and conveyor belts. Most of the factory processes could've been automated, but Mr. Scott believed in providing jobs for the people of Porvanir. This was one of the many things that made him look like a stand-up guy, when he was actually a dirty, lying snake. Davis was one of the few workers that saw Scott for what he was, instead of the angel that he made himself out to be.

As they reached floor thirty-seven (the final level of the Factory Floor) the two guys went their separate ways. While Davis worked in the custom-orders department, Roy was just a conveyor belt worker. He was smart with electronics, but he never really got the chance to show his skills. With so many workers, it was very hard to move up the ranks of Scott Machines. The only reason that Davis had such a good position was the fact that his father had known Mr. Scott personally before he had passed away. He had made Scott promise to give Davis a good position, and that was exactly what he had done.

Davis continued to climb the stairs, passing by floor after floor of the custom-orders department. Most of the elevators in the building didn't work, no matter how many times people would come in to fix them. They would function for a few hours, then something would go wrong and they would shut down again. Eventually, people just gave up and accepted the fact that they would never work right.

Davis arrived at his office and began to look through his orders for the day. The first one he worked on was a microwave with a built-in-radio, which only took him about half an hour. He did most of his jobs by starting with an basic frame for the appliance (in this case, a microwave) and filling in the insides so that it could perform the task required. It wasn't as hard as you might think, especially for someone of Davis's skill level.

Davis had built five or so orders when there was a knock on the door. He allowed them in, and a young man of about eighteen entered the room. His name was Luke Abernathy, and he worked as Mr. Scott's intern. He was a pretty quiet kid, and didn't have much going up upstairs, if you know what I mean.

"What's up, Luke?" asked Davis. "Have you found your father yet?"

"Was that supposed to be a Star Wars joke?" asked Luke hesitantly, fiddling with his pockets.

Davis sighed. "Yeah. Yeah it was. So what are you doing down here?"

"Mr. Scott wants to see you?"

"Is it urgent? I'm in the middle of an order for a Bathtub with wifi."

"Mr. Scott told me to bring you up right away."

Davis groaned and set down his tools, following the young intern out of the room. The two guys began to ascend the stairs once again, making their way to the top floor. Normal people would probably pass out if they tried to make it to Mr. Scott's office, but the factory workers were used to the climbing. Years of using the stairs make for some very strong thighs.

After about ten minutes, they reached the hundredth floor and entered Scott's office.

The entire top floor was one big office, inhabited by only one man. Alexander "Stonewall" Scott himself. He was a thin man with short white hair, which was more than most people of his age had. He had half-moon glasses that sat on the tip of his crooked nose, right above his mouth that had been twisted into a permanent sneer.

Luke shut the door behind Davis, leaving him all alone with Mr. Scott. He eyed Davis silently, but with a lack of emotion that Davis question his purpose for summoning him.

"Is there a problem, sir?" asked Davis, trying to look like he wasn't nervous.

"You tell me," said Scott, pushing a button on his desk. A panel on the wall slid open, and a chair rolled out across a small track. It stopped right in front of Mr. Scott's desk, as he beckoned for Davis to come sit down. His office was filled with hundreds of small quirks like this, all designed by Alexander himself.

The man was a technological genius, capable of building things most people opulent even dream of. The most complicated orders went straight to him, and he could usually fill them in less than a day's time. He practically lived in his office, having Luke cater to his every need.

As Davis sat down, his boss bean to speak. "I've been told that there was a fight in the parking lot this morning."

"Yes sir. Crasher and his buddies attacked me."

"Is that so..." sneered Scott, adjusting the pencil cup on his desk. "Is this something you plan on repeating?"

"Are you asking if I plan on getting into more fights?"

"I'm asking if this issue is going to continue," Scott replied coldly. "I can't have employees battling each other on the factory grounds. It gives Scott Machines a bad reputation, and that is something I absolutely cannot have. If I need to fire you to keep that from happening, I'm not afraid to do so."

"In all fairness, sir, Eric and his friends started this whole ordeal. They attacked me, not the other way around. I acted in self-defense."

Mr. Scott sighed. "You remind me of your father in so many ways. He helped me mold this company into the business it is today, and I will be forever thankful for that. Nevertheless, he was a reckless man that acted on impulse. Much like you, he would react with his heart instead of his brain. In his case, it was a blessing. He cared for the common man, and worked hard to help them in any way that he could. In your case, however, your heart only gets you into trouble. If you weren't the son of Robert DeGraff, I would fire you in an instant. But I made your father a promise, and I intend to keep it. I will not, however, stand for anything like this again. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir," replied Davis. "I'll try my best to keep my head down and stay out of trouble." He knew to keep his response short and simple, knowing that Mr. Scott was easily annoyed.

"Excellent. You can go back to your work now, Mr. DeGraff."

Davis got up and exited the room, accidentally hitting Luke with the door on the way out. Davis apologized and helped him up, and then returned to his office thirty floors below. He got back to work on his wifi bathtub, completely unaware that the next time there was a knock at his door, his life would change.

"Head on in," said Davis in a loud voice. The door opened, and in walked a man that Davis had never seen before. He was tall and thin, and wore a sleek, black suit. He had a briefcase in his hands, leading Davis to believe that he was a businessman of sorts. The man was a ginger, and had a narrow face with a small nose. His mouth was thin, and he wore an expression of solemn happiness.

"Are you Davis DeGraff?" asked the red-haired man with an intelligent grin.

"Yes," replied Davis hesitantly. "Who might you be?"

"I'm here to place an order."

"I see. You'll want to fill out one of the forms in the lobby and..."

"If I fill out a form, there's a very high chance that my order will end up in the hands of some random worker. That's something I can't have. I was told that you were the best in the business, and that you could build machines like nobody else could. Am I correct?"

"If you're looking for the best," replied Davis, "you'll want to see Mr. Scott on the top floor. He runs the complicated requests."

"Can I trust him?"

Davis was silent for a few seconds. "That depends on what you're trusting him with."

"That response just proves that I can't trust him. That is why I came to you."

"What kind of order are you interested in?"

"I'm afraid that I can't tell you."

Davis laughed. "I can't fill your request if I don't know what it is that I'm supposed to build."

"The nature of my job requires that you keep this in total secrecy. If a single soul found out about this, it could be a disaster. That's why I'm not going to tell you unless you accept. That way, if you decline, I can walk out of here like nothing ever happened."

"You're not making any sense."

The man sighed and set down his briefcase. "The people I work for are very powerful people. They will not hesitate to find someone else if you decline this job."

"Is that supposed to reassure me?'

"What I'm trying to say is that we came to you first. It is imperative that our request is handled with care, and you're one of the best metalworkers in the world."

"Look, man, I'm just..."

"You sell yourself short, Davis. You have no idea what you're capable of. You have the capacity to do great things, and this is one of them. If you take this job, it's safe to say that it will change your life."

Davis felt like he was at a crossroads. He felt like the man was trustworthy, yet he didn't even know his name. He just had that aura around him that you feel like you could believe what he was saying. Still, it was dangerous to accept his request without even knowing what it is. He was about to take a leap of faith, not caring about the dangers that were possible.

"I'll do it. But before doing anything, you will tell me what I'm building."

The man nodded and began to open his briefcase. Inside was a single sheet of paper, which Davis recognized to be a blueprint. This set off a warning in his head.

"If you have a blueprint," said Davis, "then why do you need me to build it?"

The man was silent as he slid the paper over to Davis. "I can't tell you that either," he said. "I just need you to trust me."

"I don't even know your name! How can you expect me to trust you?"

"Because trusting me will lead to the life you've always wanted," he replied. "We've been watching you, Davis. We know more about you than you do. We know that you've always dreamed of helping people. That's why you decided to work at Scott Machines. Your entire job revolves around filling people's requests. Yet, this was never enough. If you build this, I swear that you'll be able to help people in a way that matters."

Davis sighed. Everything that the man said was true. He had always wanted to contribute to society, but he couldn't do that with his current job. He couldn't help but believe the man. the worst case scenario was that he would build whatever it was and not get paid. Other than that, there wasn't much harm that could come about filling a request.

"So do I have your trust?" asked the man.

Davis didn't say anything, but he gave him a small nod. The man grinned and began to walk out of the room, not even waiting for Davis to look at the blueprints.

"How should I get a hold of you once I finish building it?" asked Davis.

"I'll be staying at the Fieldcrest Hotel, room 815.'

"Can you at least tell me your name before you leave?"

The man smiled. "Just call me Beta."

He stepped out of the room, leaving Davis alone to observe the blueprints. He picked up the sheet of paper and began to look it over, shocked at what he saw. It was like nothing that he had ever done before. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he would be able to complete it. As far as Davis was concerned, the technology involved didn't even exist yet. Still, everything on the blueprint was carefully explained to the point that even a child could build it. This led Davis to question of why they chose him. There must be something that they weren't telling him.

The design was for a pair of mechanical wings.

Chapter 3
It took Davis awhile to take in what had just happened. Not only was the request from the president, but it was to accomplish something that nobody had ever done before! Human flight.

The wings were designed like a dragon's. They came with a harness, much like a parachute does. The design was intriguing, but looked somewhat makeshift. Even though the concept amazed him, the overall design looked like a backpack with wings. He would have to make some adjustments.

But there was one thing that Davis hadn't noticed at first. Down in the corner of the paper was a smaller blueprint, something that resembled a headband. It was labeled "brain to wings device."

Unlike the wings themselves, this device included instructions. Apparently, the headband synced the wings to your mind, so you could fly hands free. It used a weird form of Bluetooth, and it instructed Davis in exactly how to make it. Davis began to think. It wouldn't be too hard to get the supplies considering that he worked in a factory. Each floor of the tower had a room strictly for spare parts, just on case a worker needed them. The only problem was that the metal was only supposed to be used for company business, not for personal creations. Despite all of this,Davis had no choice. It was either Scott's metal or no metal.

Davis got to work right away. He made his way to the metal room, trying to draw as little attention as possible. He quickly collected the needed parts, and then went right back to his office.

But right as he set the pieces on the table, he hit a snag. He had no idea how to build this thing. After much deliberation, he decided to get some help from his good buddy, Roy.

When he approached Roy on the factory floor, he handled all the news surprisingly well.

"Are you out of your freakin' mind?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Dude, this is the U.S. government we're talking about! Do you know what they do to people that make promises they can't keep?"

"I'm pretty sure that the government doesn't work that way."

"Still, you're playing a dangerous game."

"I know that, and that's exactly why I'm coming to you for help."

Roy had to think about it, and Davis could understand why. This was a big responsibility if Roy accepted. If Davis were to get caught, both would probably get fired.

"Fine. But only this once."

Davis smiled. "Thanks pal."

"Whatever."

With Roy helping, the construction went by fast. They finished the harness in a couple of minutes, but had to take about an hour for the wings themselves. They had trouble finding a metal that was both light and strong at the same time, in order to make the fibers that kept the wings aloft. Other than that, it was pretty easy.

Davis gave Roy (who was the more educated of the two) the responsibility of building the Bluetooth device, which was basically composed of a metal headband. Inside the headband were small devices, which were supposedly found in cell phones. Put one in the headband and one in the wings, and bam! Instant control. The finished product was even better than Davis had hoped. The harness was sturdy yet comfortable, and was painted silver. Attached to the harness were the wings themselves, complete with Bluetooth device and all. The wings, like the harness and headset, were painted silver.

Davis felt a sense of accomplishment. In less than two hours, he had built something that nobody else had ever done before. Now, all he had to do was present the wings to that Beta dude.

"So," said Roy awkwardly. "What now?"

"Now we give it to Beta."

"That government dude?"

"Yeah. The paperwork said to meet him in the Greenfield Hotel. He's in room 207."

Before Roy could respond, he heard a knocking on the door. Both men started to panic, frantically swiping all of the unused metal into the trash can. Davis hit a button on the back of harness, retracting the wings into the sides. Now it looked like nothing more than a silver backpack.

"Come in!"

The door opened to reveal Mr. Scott's intern, Luke. He walked into the room cautiously, like he was nervous about something.

"What's up?" asked Roy with a smile, leaning nonchalantly on Davis's desk.

"Mr. Scott sent me. He said to ask you about a man in a business suit or something."

Davis's heart was pounding. "What do you mean?"

"He was wondering what the guy was doing in your office. Someone saw him walking in."

"Oh! That guy!" Davis had think up an alibi, and fast. "He was just a deliveryman. I ordered a new backpack, and he was just delivering it."

"A deliveryman wearing a suit? Why would he do that?"

Davis shrugged. "How would I know? Maybe there's a party today and he didn't have time to change." Honestly, it was a really stupid alibi, but Luke seemed to fall for it. He wasn't exactly the sharpest pencil in the box.

"Sounds legit. So can I see the backpack?"

"Sure," said Davis, nervously handing the backpack to the intern. He fit his arms through the loops and held the straps like a school kid.

"Fits nice! Where'd you order it from?"

"Uh, online. I forgot the site name."

"Oh. Okay. It all checks out, so I guess you're good."

"Thanks man," replied Davis as Luke handed him the backpack.

Luke exited, with Roy and Davis close behind. With backpack in hand and blueprints in pocket, they left the tower. After all, their shifts were over.

"I'll drive," said Roy as they approached the truck.

"Not in my truck," laughed Davis, stepping into the driver's seat.

The two of them headed straight for Greenfield Hotel, winding through the crowded streets of Porvanir. It was easily the largest city in the world, taking up around a sixth of the state of Texas. It was truly massive, also being the only city that was visible from space.

They pulled up to the hotel, not wasting any time trying to find the room. The lobby receptionist looked kind of shocked, considering that Roy and Davis were still in their work-torn uniforms.

The hotel was pretty fancy, obviously a good place for Beta to stay. It just helped to reaffirm Beta's importance. Not just anybody could afford the Greenfield.

"Here we are," said Davis, approaching the door to Beta's hotel room. "Room 207."

They knocked in the door, and were instantly answered by the "deliveryman." Beta smiled, anxiously eyeing Davis's backpack. He beckoned the two men inside, locking the door behind them.

The room was pretty plain. There was one bed, a desk, and a green chair in the corner, where Beta was currently sitting, engrossed in a book.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Beta, looking up from his book. "The backpack, I mean."

"Indeed it is," smiled Davis. He slid the backpack off of his shoulders, passing it to Beta. The man quickly found the activation button, extending the wings. His eyes were in awe, his hands stroking the shining metal.

"These are fantastic."

"It wasn't too hard, actually," piped Roy. "Shouldn't be too hard to mass-produce, if that's what you're gonna use it for."

Beta laughed sheepishly. "That's what I need to talk to up you about."

"What do you mean?" asked Davis, obviously confused. "Aren't you using this for the military?"

"Not exactly. However, it is still for national defense."

"Just spill it," commanded Roy. "What's all of this about."

"The wings aren't for me, Davis," said Beta with a grin. "They're for you."

Jesse Beilue sat in his cell with nothing but the clothes he was wearing. All he could do was sit and wait. Waiting for what, he didn't know. He was just waiting. He was smart enough not to expect bail, considering he had killed everyone that knew him on a personal level. Thirty-seven people total, all in a course of under here minutes. It was genius, really. Invite everyone to a party and then take them all down. Yet, one escaped. And that one person called the cops.

Jesse didn't care though. He was just waiting for the right time to escape. It wouldn't be too hard, considering his gifts.

Oh yeah, that's another reason he's in prison. He was literally insane. As a child, there was an accident involving some illegal drugs. Not the heroine type, but the experimental kind. His father, who had passed away when Jesse was a child, worked for a company known as Kingdom Incorporated. They design a special types of drugs, the kind you see in fictional movies. You know, those weird pills that can give you fire breath and stuff like that. It was the same concept.

As a child, Jesse had gotten a hold of some experimental Kingdom drugs. Thinking that they were candy (because kids compare everything to candy) he had swallowed a silver pill. The next thing he knew, he was writhing in agony on the floor. He sat there as every hair on his body turned into metal, everywhere from the hair on his head to the bristles on his arms. As he grew older, he discovered the true effects of the pill. He could solidify his hairs, covering his body in razor-sharp spikes. He could launch hairs out of his palms like needles, killing a target from fifty feet away.

But as I said, the drug was experimental. His brain began to decay, sending him into the darkest depths of insanity. He became a killer, viciously murdering anyone who got in his way. By the age of ten, he had killed seven people. At twenty-five, he performed his massacre of thirty-seven.

And now he was in prison. The guards and inmates had no idea of his gifts, and he didn't tell them. He was waiting patiently for a chance to show them. But as it turns out, he didn't need to.

For that day, sitting in his cell, he was confronted by a man. A man with bail, shockingly. He never caught the man's name, just a request. If he set Jesse free, Jesse would have to kill someone for him. The man gave an apartment number, with instructions to kill the man that lived there.

The man opened Jesse's cell, leading the murderer through the winding halls of Porvanir Prison. Jesse winced as they exited the building, the sun nearly blinding him.

He took a deep breath as his employer got into his car and drove away. Finally, the Iron Porcupine was back in business.

Chapter 4
"What are you talking about?" asked Davis. "Why in the world would I need a pair of mechanical wings?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Beta was hiding something. Davis could see it in his eyes.

"I'm a metalworker. Wings wouldn't help me."

"Let me ask you something, Davis. Have you ever heard of the Gargoyles?"

"Yeah. The stone things in Notre Dame or whatever. What about them?"

"People used to believe that they were the defenders of their cities. winged Guardians. These wings are part of a government program. Project Gargoyle, to be exact. After years of research, we have finally put the program into action. The wings are only part one."

"Then what's part two?" asked Davis curiously.

"You are," said Beta ominously Davis rolled his eyes. "Enough with the theatrics! Just tell me what you want."

"I want you to become a gargoyle."

"What?" Roy seemed more shocked at this than Davis was. But it only seemed that way. Davis was truly shocked, but he hid it better.

"Not a literal Gargoyle, but a metaphorical one. Just think about it, Davis. America is beginning to dissolve in the depths of corporate greed and corrupt government. People are starting to lose hope. I mean, come on! Look at China. They could take us over any time of the day, and we wouldn't be able to do anything about it! That's why we need you, Davis. We need a hero. A symbol of hope for the American people. We need a Gargoyle."

"But why me? What makes you think that I could be a symbol of hope?"

"We've been watching you, Davis. You're a good man with a good heart. Plus, you can hold your own in a fight. We need someone like that."

"Who exactly will I be fighting?"

"Anyone that we need you to."

"So you're pretty much trying to get me to be a Super Hero."

"I guess you could say that."

Davis was silent. He was processing everything that Beta had said, and still could barely believe it. Davis? A superhero? He could barely keep a job, let alone keep a Country. Plus, he wouldn't be able to save the world with nothing but a pair of wings.

When he pointed this out, Beta responded by pulling a grey pill out of his pocket. "I agree with you. The wings aren't enough. But like I said, I want you to be a Gargoyle. And what are Gargoyles made of?"

"Stone," said Davis hesitantly. He could see where this was going.

"Exactly. With this pill, you'll be the same way.

"Really. You're telling me that that pill will turn me to stone."

"It's not literally stone, but it will look and feel exactly like it. You're skin will be just as hard, but you'll still be able to move freely."

"How do I turn back?"

"All you need to so is take a bite of broccoli, and then you'll be good."

"Really? You're serious? Broccoli?"

"Yup. You'll never believe how we found out about it."

"I don't believe this," said Roy, shaking his head. "Your gonna turn Davis into a Gargoyle and the use Broccoli to get him back?"

"If he accepts, yes. If not, I'll have to wipe both of your memories." Davis had no idea how to respond. If he said no, he'd go back to his normal life at Scott Machines. If he accepted, he'd be taking on a whole new load of responsibilities.

"You have twenty-four hours to respond. I'll be waiting right here when you have made your decision."

Davis nodded. "I'll think about it."

Roy and Davis left the room, at which point Roy decided to confess his opinions.

"Dude, you should do it."

"You sounded pretty against it, earlier."

"That was before I knew you'd be a freakin' superhero! This could change your life, man."

"I can see that."

The two guys got back into Davis's truck, making their way back to their respective homes. Davis dropped Roy off at his apartment before heading to his own, forgetting at he still had the grey pill in his pocket. All he would have to do was swallow the pill, and his skin would be stone. The bed be able to take a bite of broccoli and turn back, but then what? How would he turn back into Gargoyle mode? Would he have to take another pill?

As he walked back into his house, these questions were all flooding his mind. What he needed was a good nap. It was getting late, so now was the perfect time to get some rest.

He took his backpack off and set it on his coffee table, slowly making his way towards his closet. As he unbuttoned his work shirt, he heard a clatter from the kitchen. This kind of freaked him out, considering that he was home alone. He snuck over to his kitchen, looking for the source of the clatter. The apartment was silent as a grave, with Davis hearing nothing but his own footsteps.

The apartment was dark, so Davis could barely see what was in front of him. As he entered the kitchen, he still couldn't tell what had made the noise. Slowly, he reached to flip the light switch.

Not even a second after flipping the lights on, he felt a sharp pain in his hand. He looked down to see minuscule needles sticking out of his flesh, each one drawing blood. The needles had pinned his hand to the wall, making him incapable of movement.

He turned his head, gasping at the man that stood before him. He was a frail guy, almost as skinny as Mr. Scott. His eyes were cold, and his shirt was torn in several places. But his most striking feature was his hair, a sleek silver color. It was combed back, and looked like it had been drenched in gel. In truth, the hair was actually metal rods sticking out of the man's scalp.

"You're lucky I aimed for your hand," said the man with a menacing grin. "Had I wanted to aim for your face, I could've killed you."

Davis was in shock. After the whole Gargoyle thing, he thought that his day couldn't get any weirder. But no, there was a man standing in his kitchen with metal hair. "So why didn't you?" Davis asked, his hand still pinned to the wall.

"I like to my victim's face before they... You know." The man began to slowly walk towards his prey, rolling back the sleeve of his right arm.

Davis just stared at the man. "Who are you?"

"You may of heard of me," said the man. "Did you hear about that massacre that happened about a month ago? The weird guy with the metal hair? In prison they all called me Iron Porcupine. At first, I was embarrassed. But after killing three of my inmates, the name began to grow on me. I hid my identity when they relocated me to Porvanir. I didn't want them to know what I was capable of."

"So why are you here?" asked Davis, struggling against the pain as he tried to release his hand.

"To kill you," replied Porcupine, as he had called himself. He said it as if we're no big deal, like murder was something he did everyday. "But it wasn't really my decision. I guess you could say that I was hired."

"By who?" At first, Porcupine didn't respond. "Come on, I'm about to die. It's not gonna hurt you to tell me."

"I honestly don't know who it was. I never caught his name. He was an older fellow, grey hair. Kind of frail."

Davis only knew one man that fit this description. Mr. Scott. But he had no time to take this in. Porcupine was slowly walking across the kitchen, extending a single hair from the back of his hand. It came out like an assassin's blade, and he was poised to strike.

Davis had to think fast. He didn't own any guns, and even if he did he wouldn't be able to get to them. All he had was his metalworking tools around his belt, the phone in his pocket, and...

The pill! The one with the Gargoyle stuff! As the Porcupine grew closer, Davis reached into his pocket and drew out the pill. Before Porcupine could respond to Davis's abrupt motion, he had already swallowed it. The Porcupine could only watch as his prey's skin began to darken, turning a dark shade of grey. Davis smiled, thankful that the transformation was painless.

Now, he removed his hand from the wall with ease. He pulled the needles out of his hands, not even noticing the pain anymore. His skin was as hard as stone, yet he could move with ease. It was a weird feeling, but Davis liked it.

Porcupine began to freak out. He plunged his dagger-like hair into Davis's chest, but it shattered instead. He grabbed his hand in pain, screaming words that are too foul to include in this story.

Seeing his opening, Davis ran at the intruder with all of his might. He knocked Porcupine against a wall, inches away from the window. Porcupine went into attack mode, turning every hair in his body into a razor. He kicked Davis in the chest, sending him across the room. He launched needle after needle, each one bouncing off of Davis like they were nothing. Even though they couldn't pierce his skin, he could still feel the pain.

Davis retaliated with a knee to porcupine's gut. This was he wrong move, as several hairs shattered into Davis's leg. Both men groaned in pain, but Porcupine didn't hesitate to fight back. He swung his arm like a whip, the hairs on his arm successfully slicing through Davis's armor. He screamed in pain as his chest began to bleed, surprising him. At least now he knew that he wasn't totally invincible. Davis saw Porcupine standing near his window and took his chance. He rushed his attacker, sending them both through the glass. They fell three stories towards the ground, with Porcupine landing on the bottom. Gargoyle rolled off of him, standing up amidst the pool of broken glass.

Porcupine was winded, but still conscious. Now in the middle of a street, the two continued to battle. They exchanged attacks, with Davis punching and kicking while Porcupine launched needles and stabbed him with daggers.

"How are you still alive?" asked Porcupine as Davis got struck by one of his needles.

"I guess stone really is stronger than steel," retorted Davis, kicking his enemy in the side. Porcupine fell in the street, barely missing a car. This gave Davis an idea on how to beat the guy.

"Is that the best you got?" asked the man with utter insanity. There was a wild look in his eyes, his mouth twisted into a menacing grin.

Porcupine ran at Davis one last time, assassin daggers extended on both hands. Davis braced himself for the attack, digging his feet into the ground. When the two collided, Davis proved stronger. Porcupine fell to the pavement again, still conscious. Davis picked his attacker up by the ankles and began to swing him like a discus. He saw headlights out of the corner of his eyes, and threw Porcupine with all of his might. Jesse Beilue flew through the air, slamming into the windshield of the car with a thud. He was launched up into the air, and came down with a sickening thud.

Davis took a deep breath. The car's windshield was cracked, but it kept on going. The driver looked shocked, but obviously didn't care enough to stick around. As the car drove off, Davis approached the man in the road. Porcupine was still conscious, but was on the brink of passing out. Every bone in his body was broken, so Davis knew that he had won the battle.

"Who are you?" wheezed Porcupine.

Davis thought. Who was he? He couldn't tell the man his name, or he could wind up getting fired or sent to prison. He didn't want his name to be spread throughout Porvanir as the man with stone skin.

Finally, after several seconds of silence, Davis responded.

"I am the Gargoyle."

Chapter 5
Davis awoke the next morning with every muscle in his body feeling sore. After he had defeated Porcupine, he had rushed back inside to find some broccoli. He didn't want the cops seeing his "condition." There was only one piece left in his kitchen, so he reminded himself to go to the store and pick some up later.

He had called 911, and they had picked up the Porcupine immediately. After Davis's description of the attacker, the police had decided to move him to Porvanir's high security facility known as the Shadow. After Porcupine had been taken away, Davis did his best to clean up the mess. Davis had told the police that he had merely witnessed the battle, and that he didn't know the identity of the "stone man." The police bought it, so Davis's secret was safe for the time-being.

Almost immediately, he had called Roy and told him about what had happened. He told him everything, from the battle with Porcupine to the discovery that Mr. Scott had organized the whole thing.

"We need to do something about that," Roy had said. "We need to go the police, dude."

"If we do that, they'll know I was more than just a bystander. I have to go to Mr. Scott directly."

Roy agreed, and Davis hung up his phone. The next day at work, Davis entered the factory floor to find Roy working at his usual position. The two men worked for a few hours, checking each microwave to make sure that the buttons all worked. Ah yes, the joys of being a factory worker. As his shift neared its end, Davis began to think about what he was going to say to Scott. Eventually, he decided to just go outright and tell him what he was thinking. That Scott was a murderer and that justice was coming.

As he neared the stairs, Davis was ecstatic to see that the elevators had finally been fixed. He ascended the top floor, beginning to get nervous. Alexander "Stonewall" Scott was an e trembly powerful man, and was not to be underestimated.

The doors opened into Mr. Scott's office. Davis approached him, currently sitting at his desk and fiddling with some sort of a metal boot. When he saw Davis, he was obviously surprised. Davis couldn't help but smile. The old man hadn't expected him to show up to work that day.

"Davis!" proclaimed Mr. Scott in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Why so surprised?" asked Davis.

Scott quickly calmed down. "Nothing. I thought that today was your day off."

"So it had nothing to do with your little assassination attempt?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," replied Davis with a grin. "You sent Porcupine to kill me." Scott looked genuinely surprised, but Davis wasn't buying it. "I don't know what delusions you are facing, but I assure you. I would never hire an assassin to murder one of my workers."

"So why did you?"

Scott laughed from disbelief. "I had nothing to do with whatever you're talking about! I've been working on these new designs for the past week. I've barely stepped out of my office."

"Sure you haven't. I know that you talked to Porcupine while he was locked up. He told me himself."

"Did he specifically name me?"

Davis frowned. He knew that he couldn't win this argument. After all, he had no proof that Mr. Scott had done anything. If he was going to win this war, he needed more evidence.

"No," relied Davis. "I guess I was mistaken."

Mr. Scott nodded. "I'd say so. And Davis, if you really were attacked, you have the right to press charges. You know that I'm always here if you need to someone to represent you in court." Once again, Scott was trying to come across as the good boss. Davis wasn't falling for it.

Davis left the room, heading back down to his office. He saw Luke on the way down, eyeing him nervously. Davis was starting to get suspicious of the teenage intern. He was too stupid to be stupid.

Davis let the thought go as he entered his office. Standing right in front of him was Beta, suit and all. He was holding his briefcase as usual, but he was actually smiling this time.

"I heard about your little 'encounter' last night," he said. "Is it true that you just witnessed the attack?"

"Not exactly," Davis replied. "Porcupine attacked me in my apartment. I had to take the pill to fight him off."

Beta's eyes grew wide. "You took the pill? Then I'm sorry to inform you that the Gargoyle Syndrome is already in your blood."

"You mean, forever?"

"I'm afraid so. Unless you eat broccoli on a regular basis, you'll be a Gargoyle all day, every day."

"But what if I eat broccoli and then need to... You know.. Transform."

"Don't worry about that," responded Beta. "You can trigger it manually. Just concentrate on going Gargoyle, and you'll transform instantly."

"It's that easy?"

"Absolutely. And now for the real reason I'm here. Your twenty-four hours are almost up, so I need an answer."

Davis had to ponder this. He had already thought long and hard, and had eventually decided that he was going to decline. But now that he knew that the Gargoyle Syndrome was already in his blood-stream, he was having second thoughts. Finally, he made his official decision.

"I guess you could say that you've found your Gargoyle."

Justin Joy was walking through the halls of his casino. He entered the vault and set down the bags of money, locking the vault behind him. Another night, another million dollars in cash won. Justin loved his job. Then again, most Casino managers do.

He earned millions every day, but not just through gambling. He was a thief in his spare time. He had a group of buddies that called themselves the Jackpot Crew and they happened to be the most successful thieves in Porvanir. And after seven years of robberies, they had never been caught once.

As Justin entered his private gambling room (all the money was his, so he could just gamble for the fun of it) he was met by a man named Rodney Cooke. He was pretty much Justin's second-in-command, known as the Rodent by the other members of the Jackpot Crew.

"What is it Rodney?" asked Justin, heading straight to his pool table. "I'm kind of busy."

"I heard something in the news that you might like to hear."

Justin took a shot, knocking seven balls into the holes. Seven, his favorite number. "What is it?"

"Porcupine failed, sir. A 'man made out of stone' defeated him."

"Hmm. I guess we'll need to take another approach."

"What are you thinking?"

Justin struck again, this time knocking four balls into the holes. "I'm thinking that now is a good time for our friend the Gargoyle to visit the casino."

Preview of the Next Story
Gargoyle: the Jackpot Crew

Gargoyle embarks on his first real mission, following Beta to an ongoing robbery at the Jackpot Hotel and Casino. But these thieves are more than they seem. Led by the villainous Stratagem, the Jackpot Crew is a force to be reckoned with. Gargoyle will battle various members of the Crew, eventually leading to an epic battle on top of an active Construction Site. Who will prevail? Gargoyle or Stratagem? You'll have to read it and see!