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The sun set once more over the island of Manhattan. Over at the clock tower, the gargoyles shed their stony cocoons, stretching their wings and muscles. By now they had settled into their own routines: Goliath would head for the library, while Hudson could often be found watching TV with Bronx at his side. As for the others, they would go into the city, usually to see a movie and grab a bite on the way.
Tonight though, things would be a little different.
‘Whaddaya mean you’re not coming?’ Lexington demanded.
‘Sorry guys. There’s something else I have to do.’ Broadway explained.
Brooklyn smirked. ‘Something you wanna share with the rest of the class, Broadway?’
‘You wish.’ He retorted. ‘Look, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.’
They watched him disappear into the clock tower, clearly in something of a hurry.
Lexington turned to Brooklyn. ‘What do you think that was about?’
Brooklyn shrugged. ‘You know Broadway – always thinking with his stomach.’
Broadway made his way down, down, down into the very depths of the tower, deeper than any of them usually bothered to venture. He came to a halt near the bottom, swooping over into a side alcove. Razor-sharp claws searched for purchase along the stone brick walls, eventually finding it in the corner. One of the bricks moved under his touch; some gentle prying caused it to come free in his hand. More bricks followed, widening the gap in the wall until it was large enough for him to reach inside. His hand found its target, and he retrieved a sandwich wrapped in brown paper.
He had discovered these loose bricks some time ago, and since none of the others seemed to know about it he had claimed the free space for himself, packing it full of pretty much every scrap of food he had managed to stop himself from eating. This was his secret stash, hidden safely away from Brooklyn and Lexington’s greedy hands and reserved for his instead. Just looking at the hoard was making his mouth water. Surely just one teensy-weensy bite wouldn’t hurt…
No. At the last moment he came to his senses and started sliding the bricks back into place. He had gotten what he had came for, and that was enough. Besides, he was already running late. Broadway tucked the package under his arm and dove through an open window, taking off into the night.
The address they had agreed to meet at had been 122 and an eighth on Bleecker Street. Well, there was 121, 122, 123…
Wait a minute.
His wings carried him down into an alley between the two buildings. After making sure the coast was clear he stepped out onto the street, trying to make sense of the directions.
‘Where the heck is one-twenty-two and an eighth?’ Broadway wondered aloud.
‘You’re standing on it, dude.’ Answered a voice from behind.
Broadway whipped around to face the voice’s owner as he emerged from the shadows.
They had encountered more than their fair share of oddballs since the spell on them had been broken, but the figure standing before him may have topped them all. His new friend appeared to be a giant turtle wearing an orange ninja mask, only he was walking on two legs and talked like a human. A pair of nunchaku hung from his belt, showing that he meant business. The turtle’s name was Michelangelo, or Mikey for short.
‘How can I be standing on it?’ Broadway demanded.
Mikey gestured to the ground. Broadway looked down and realised that he was standing on a sewer grate.
‘Right. Somehow I keep forgetting.’ He commented.
The turtle shrugged. ‘Not exactly the Ritz, but it has its charms. Better than being cooped up in some clock tower, anyway.’
‘Touché. You got the goods?’
‘I’m ready to go when you are, dude.’ Mikey replied. Clutched in his three-fingered hands was a thin white box. The faint-but-enticing scent of cheese and garlic hit Broadway’s nostrils, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to make a grab for it there and then.
‘Fresh?’ He asked.
Mikey nodded. ‘Straight from Bill’s Pizza Palace. Still hot. It’s the good stuff.’
The gargoyle’s eyes narrowed. ‘No taste tests?’
‘Hey, you’re not exactly starving to death yourself, pal.’ Mikey retorted. ‘And no.’
‘And no hot fudge or jelly beans or any other junk?’
‘I have refrained from crafting one of my usual culinary masterpieces, yes. What about you?’
Broadway held up the bag. ‘Footlong with meatballs and cheese on Italian bread, just like you asked.’
Mikey grinned. ‘Gnarly.’
‘So, you ready?’
‘Yeah, of course. Just… gimme a minute.’ Suddenly the turtle seemed very emotional. ‘I’m sorry, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.’
Broadway rolled his eyes. ‘It’s just a pizza.’
‘Oh, sure, that’s what they all say!’ Mikey snapped. He took a few deep breaths, then composed himself. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’
They approached each other, offerings held out in front of them. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, but Broadway could’ve sworn that he saw a tear run down Mikey’s cheek.
The moment the box was within reach Broadway lunged for it. He felt the sandwich bag leave his grip, but he couldn’t have cared less; first he had to inspect the merchandise. He opened the box and was met with a wave of warmth. It was a twelve-inch pepperoni pizza, hot and fresh and cheesy and perfect. One of the slices seemed to have been removed and hastily replaced, but otherwise it was practically picturesque.
Broadway couldn’t contain himself any longer. It had been more than a day since his previous meal, and right now that pizza looked like the most beautiful thing in the world. Michelangelo was thinking something similar, not that Broadway cared.
The two meals lasted less than a minute. The crumpled packaging lay discarded in the gutter.
‘Man, that hit the spot.’ Broadway sighed, patting his stomach. ‘What about you?’
When he looked over at Michelangelo, the turtle was hastily licking leftover sauce from his fingers. ‘Well, it was okay, I guess.’ He muttered.
‘Yeah, sure. Well, I guess I’d better be heading back. They’ll be worried about me.’ Turning around, Broadway spread his mighty wings and braced himself to take off.
‘Hey, wait a minute!’
Broadway lowered his wings, turned back. ‘What?’
Mikey looked sheepish. ‘It’s just that… are you sure you don’t wanna maybe… stick around for a while? I’m sure the others would love to meet you.’ He added, gesturing to the sewer grate. ‘It’d be nice for them to know that there are others like us.’
For once, Broadway thought long and hard. He remembered Xanatos, the Pack, allies who they had turned to almost out of desperation, a need to find an anchor in a strange new world, and how that trust had been thrown back in their faces. Even if the turtles were kindred spirits, who could say that they would trust him as Mikey did? And what about the other gargoyles? What would happen when those two forces came together?
Eventually he replied: ‘I’m not sure. To tell you the truth, we’re still a little new to this.’
‘Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us.’
Broadway smiled. ‘I’ll think about it.’
With that Broadway took off, flying away into the night.