Inside Out

"Fine," Doug replied to that. "Your team may bring guns. However, they are not to use them unless things get desperate or Kurtz and his people draw theirs."

"Understood," Clarke said. He and Frank Martin had met Doug at the hotel and they rode in Frank's Rolls into Soho. The cabbie took a long scenic route, allowing Doug to get both familiar with the neighborhood and psyched up for what lay ahead. Clarke and Doug went over strategy during the journey, reviewing what they knew of their allies and their foes.

Now they stood together outside the open doors of the warehouse that was the first floor of the tenement Doug wanted to take from Kurtz. Bare crates and shelves occupied the concrete floor inside the building. The streets were empty but for Doug and his allies thanks to the late hour. The goods stored in the warehouse and the tenants who lived in the apartments above it had all been vacated in anticipation of the battle ahead. Doug wondered how quickly they would all come back should his side lose tonight. Never mind, he said to himself. We're not going to lose.

"You remember the martial arts classes we took together?" asked Wouter Staal, a lean brown-haired Dutchman who had served as Clarke's field coordinator. He was now an accountant, and one of the team who had previous acquaintance with Doug. "Is that why you chose sticks?"

"Yes," Doug answered. He looked over his new employees, who were a mix of diverse humans. The only physical features they had in common were their mid-twenties age range and similar athletic builds. "What do you think, Yoshi?"

Yoshihiro Aoi, the wiry Japanese whom Doug had hired as head chef of the club, considered his aluminum baseball bat. "It's a good thing we're all trained in stick-fighting."

"The enemy will be experienced in it, too," said Jodi Lee Nichols, a dark-haired and freckled Australian waitress who had served Clarke as an infiltrator. She tapped a mop handle in her palm. "Sticks are common weapons the world over."

"Kurtz's thugs are all veterans of London's back alleys," Frank added. "They know how to fight."

"There's also two hundred of them and only thirty of us," Doug replied. "But I think we can handle it. Any of us is worth five of them, right, Clarke?"

"Amen," the giant agreed. "Ooh-rah!" Several of his team joined in the traditional U.S. Marine yell while others shouted U.S. Army, British SAS, or other equivalents.

"You know, you don't have to stay with us, Frank," Doug said as the cheer died down. "You won't be working for me after this is over."

"I expect your club to give my taxi a great amount of business," Frank replied. He held up his lug wrench. "I think I'll secure that expectation now. Besides, I'm your transporter. I'm responsible for you until you're set up."

"Okay, then. Thank you." Doug clapped Frank on the shoulder and then turned to a small mustached Hispanic man waving at him. "Yeah, Mike?"

"I spoke to some of this building's former tenants shortly before we gathered," replied Mike Hernandez, who was another of Doug's old friends. Under Clarke, he had been a radioman and combat engineer. Now he was a disc jockey. "They want to back us up. Kurtz was a terrible landlord and employer to them. They think you might be better and have offered to support you in return for their old homes. There's not many of them, and very few have combat training."

"I see," Doug said. He paused, considering, and then nodded. "Please go tell them to stand by in the surrounding area. I'll launch a red or white flare if I need them tonight and formally interview them all for jobs in my club tomorrow."

"Okay, I'll do that." Mike walked off.

Doug looked towards a statue in the square his building adjoined. It was an odd construction of stone. In the center was a British Royal Air Force Spitfire fighter plane. On each of its wings stood a creature that looked like a strange combination of man and beast. Both had great sweeping wings, long tails, and fearsome expressions. The figure on the left wing was a griffin-like humanoid with a Mohawk who wore a leather jacket. He had an eagle's head and a lion's claws. On the right wing a behemoth barbarian monster even bigger than Clarke stood. He wore a loincloth and a long mullet of hair.

"The Guardians of London" proclaimed a sign in front of the statue. "In Commemoration of Their Contribution to the Battle of Britain, 1940-1941".

Most humans regard the creatures depicted by this monument as urban legends, Doug thought with a smile. Few know or are ready to face the fact that they actually exist. I remember when that reporter John Carter tried to convince the world of their reality on television in New York seven years ago. He got laughed out of a job.

Despite our disbelief, though, these beings, gargoyles, are real. I got to know them in Austin. All throughout human history, they have evolved alongside and protected us. They have aided honorable men and women in the London Blitz and other famous conflicts. Their race is dying out now, but the legacy they are leaving will live forever. It includes the Friendship, which they and humans founded. Like many individuals among their race, it has no official name. Gargoyles have always been there to protect humans when most needed. I do not know if gargoyles will show up to aid us tonight, but I hope that their spirits are watching over us.

He became aware of nine robed and hooded figures stepping out of the shadows around the statue. Power and mystery were evident in their every move. Keira strode to their forefront, casting back her hood and smiling at Doug. "I hope you didn't think that I would desert you."

"I prayed you would not," Doug said, smiling back. "I fear I can't give you insurance, though. This is no action film."

"That's okay. It may be good practice for my next one."

Doug laughed and extended the long riot baton he held towards Keira. "Do you know how to use one of these?"

"Yes," Keira said, regarding the weapon. "But if I take that, won't I leave you unarmed?"

"Of course not." Doug tapped two black cylinders sheathed in his belt. "I'll still have these, and my intellect."

"I'm sure that will be enough," Keira said with a raised eyebrow. She took the baton.

"Deputy Ramsay," the tallest of the other hooded figures said, stepping forward. He lowered his hood to reveal long black hair and a strange green-skinned beaked visage that looked like some bizarre combination of feline and reptile. He then dropped his cloak and unfurled his wings.

"I am Edwin, second in command of Clan London," the gargoyle introduced himself. "Guadalupe, leader of Clan Austin, speaks well of you in e-mail."

"It is an honor to be among your kind again," Doug said. He looked around at Clarke's team and saw that none of them appeared the least bit startled, though many looked proud. They've all worked with gargoyles before, Doug realized. I guess they're as happy to see them here now as I am. He clasped forearms with Edwin. "Well met."

The other seven gargoyles who had come with Edwin doffed their robes, revealing leather and chain mail armor. There was a golden-furred griffin identical to the one depicted by the monument, a gray-maned male lion, and a white female unicorn. Next to these were a brown-furred female with porcine features and long golden hair and a white-furred male with the head of a stag. There was also a green-scaled female dragon gargoyle and a red-feathered male who looked like a humanoid cardinal bird.

"Griff, Leo and Una," Edwin introduced them. "Constance, Staghart, Diana and Christopher."

The gargoyles walked forward and clasped forearms with the humans. They gave one another nods of respect, recognizing fellow warriors. "Thank you all for coming," Doug said to the gargoyles. "The enemy's arrival is imminent. I need you to take up position on the nearby rooftops. Be ready to spring a surprise attack."

"A surprise attack?" Keira asked. "Are you not a man of honor?"

"I am, but my opponent isn't." Doug showed Edwin his revolver. "I have three flares in here. One is red and will call up human reserves. Another is green. I'll use it to summon you guys."

"Why not let us pick the proper moment to spring our attack?" said Christopher. "We're very able observers of battle."

"Yes," Edwin agreed. He formed a magical ball of green fire in his right claw. "We also have resources you don't."

"Fine," Doug said, smiling. "However, if you see the green flare, or the white one that summons all my reserves at once, I will expect you to respond immediately."

The gargoyles nodded and deployed, climbing up nearby walls with their claws and leaping into the air. Extending their wings, they glided to rooftops and hid themselves. Keira, Frank, and the other humans gathered around Doug. All were readying their weapons. Clarke spoke with his lookouts over a radio headset. "Kurtz's convoy is approaching," he told Doug. "It will be here any minute now."

"Right," Doug replied. "Let's confirm everything. Tess, do you have enough medical supplies?"

"I think so," a petite brunette woman in a doctor's coat answered. "My assistants and I will be ready to use them."

"Clarke, did your explosives guys check the building for traps?"

"Asher, Mike, and I searched it top to bottom. What we found, we disarmed."

"Keira, can we be sure the police will not interfere in this?"

"Father has told me they won't, unless they get too many calls about it. He did ask a few of them to be ready to come and arrest Kurtz and his men after their defeat, though, as per your request. I doubt the charges will stick long."

"Doesn't matter. All I want is for Kurtz to know I am someone to be respected."

"I wouldn't worry about that," said Frank.

"Mike, are the reserves ready?"

"Yes," said the deejay, who had returned a few minutes ago.

"Anyone have any questions?"

There were none.

The group passed the next few minutes in silence, waiting. They watched as a long line of run-down cars and trucks entered the square and parked around it. Doug felt fear shake his insides. Kurtz's forces outnumbered his own nearly three to one, and they were a gang of London's worst criminals. Punks and skinheads, hoodlums and prizefighters, thugs of the most awful descriptions he could imagine. All brandished boards, chains, and other makeshift clubs as they exited their vehicles. Most were men, though a few were women. Their clothes and hair were dirty, and sneers and laughter were on every face. Igor and a short thin crow-faced man dressed like a dandy led the gang members. Adjusting his long black frock coat and monocle, the latter man stood on his cane and addressed Doug.

"Greetings to you, Mr. Ramsay. As you may have guessed, I am the man who has challenged you, Lord Jim Kurtz."

"You're about what I expected," Doug said. He stepped forward with hand extended. "May I present my army?"

"And may I present mine," Kurtz replied with a sardonic grin. His thugs chuckled and several tapped their weapons in their open palms. "Shall we begin?"

"Unless you'd care to surrender," Doug answered, "or to settle this just between us. A mass battle really isn't necessary. I think it would be fairer to us both if we handled each other one on one."

"I don't fight fair," Kurtz snapped. He struck his cane hard on the sidewalk and addressed his brutes. "Exterminate them!"

The gang members surged forward, violence in their eyes. Doug lunged at Kurtz, thinking to cut down the head of the enemy, but Igor intercepted him. Doug dodged the Cossack's truncheon and drew the cylinders sheathed in his belt. He flicked his wrists, expanding the cylinders into a pair of twenty-one inch steel batons.

Igor laughed and came at Doug again, swinging his truncheon. Two dreadlocked Rasta thugs with pipes were at his side. Doug blocked and countered their blows, his eyes on his opponents' hands. "Defense!" he shouted at his employees.

Clarke and his team spread out and kept Kurtz's gang from surrounding Doug. Screams and battle cries split the air. Wave after wave of thugs surged forward and were beat back. Only half the gang was immediately engaged in the fight, the rest cheering in the background or jumping in to replace fallen comrades. Jodi Lee faced off with a spike-haired female punk in leather who wielded a whip while Yoshi clashed bats with a French thug who had on a mime outfit and face-paint. Frank and Keira stood back to back, swinging at whoever tried to come at them. Clarke and Wouter each beat down a pair of bruisers and then moved to guard Doug's flanks.

The Dutchman disarmed one of the pipe thugs with his Bo staff. "Like old times, eh, buddy?"

Doug nodded in agreement as he battled the other pipe thug. "I didn't miss it."

"This one's mine," Clarke declared, pointing his metal pole at Igor. He spun the pole in a wide arc, knocking both pipe thugs down and out.

"You're welcome to him." Doug ducked another truncheon blow and stepped out of the smiling Igor's way.

"Come on, Clarke," the Cossack said to his rival. "You really think you can take me a second time?"

Clarke punched him in the mouth, knocking him to the ground. "You still have a glass jaw."

"Damn you!" Igor cursed, scrambling to get up. Five other gang members jumped toward Clarke before his rival could move in.

Doug ran to Clarke's aid and knocked out two of the punks with baton blows to their heads and stomachs. The third, a black youngster with green hair, turned from Clarke and pulled out a switchblade. Doug dodged away as the knife slashed in his direction. Clarke crashed his two remaining aggressors' heads together, sending them reeling. He then moved to face Igor, who had recovered and gotten back to his feet. The two circled each other, exchanging punches and weapon swings. Igor carefully guarded his bleeding face.

Keira and Frank knocked back the skinheads facing them. Then two filthy hoodlums who looked like minor characters from Keira's 'Pirates' movie charged them. A short bald bruiser with a thick beard thrust a large knife at Frank, who blocked it and responded with a wrench blow to his opponent's midsection. Keira hit the man's tall rawboned companion in the head with her baton. The pirate's wooden eye popped out of its socket and rolled across the ground. He snarled an oath and swung his club at Keira, who leapt aside in a ballet pirouette and then struck him again.

Other combats ensued around the square, brutal and chaotic. Kurtz stood on the sidelines, ordering his goons forward and hurrying away from anyone who challenged him. Wouter and a Polish janitor named Asher beat down a pair of skinheads who wore neo-Nazi regalia and jackboots. Mike the deejay hit a tattooed thug with his blackjack and ducked an attempted garrote from another with a chain. Yoshi helped Mike pummel that pair and the face-painted Frenchman unconscious, but then a Chinese punk with several piercings knocked him down. Mike defeated that goon in the next instant with a smash of his weapon. Nearby, Jodi Lee knocked down the punk dominatrix but then got smacked on the back of the head by a husky goon wielding a board studded with nails.

Tess and another medic member of Clarke's team rushed in and grabbed the Aussie as she fainted. They carried her out of the melee while their friends held the enemy back. They then rushed back into the battle and carried out the gasping Yoshi. Once his injuries were treated, Yoshi rejoined the battle. With no medical staff of their own, the wounded gang members moaned as they lay on the street.

Doug blocked a switchblade thrust and looked at the green-haired punk facing him. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

The youth grinned, showing prominent canines. "I don't think so."

"Never mind," Doug said with a shrug. He feigned a pair of baton swings and kicked the green-haired punk in the groin when he got distracted. The enemy gasped and collapsed to the concrete with a moan.

Doug stood over him and shook his head. Then he saw three more thugs advancing. He dodged their blows and moved towards Keira and Frank, seeking safety in numbers. Combats continued all around.

"Did you expect this many?" Keira was asking the cabbie.

"Not quite," Frank admitted, slamming his wrench into the bruiser pirate's face.

"Don't worry!" Doug advised. "Just fight!" He wielded his dual batons to block swings from the rawboned pirate and two others. "Keira, can you reach my holster?"

Her eyes on their enemies, the actress backed into Doug and grabbed for his revolver. As her hand closed on it, a series of roars sounded from overhead. Edwin and the other London gargoyles leapt into the fray from the rooftops, claws extended and eyes glowing red and white. Several of Kurtz's thugs screamed in terror upon catching sight of the new arrivals. The crime boss cursed at these men as they broke ranks and fled. "The monsters are nothing to fear, damn it!" Kurtz tried to call them back in vain.

"Sleep," Una commanded two preppie-garbed goons, flinging magical sand in their eyes. The pair yawned and collapsed unconscious. Edwin meanwhile scattered a group of Goth gang members with a fireball while the other gargoyles engaged opponents with claws and fists. With renewed courage, Doug and his allies fought at their side. The most intense part of the battle was Clarke and Igor, who were both pounding on each other and shaking from punches they had taken. For every blow one or the other blocked or avoided, two more hit hard.

Tess, who was bandaging Jodi Lee's head, yelled something at Clarke. The giant looked away from Igor and narrowly avoided a hit from the husky thug who had assaulted Tess's patient. He jumped to the side, throwing his pole at Igor in the same motion, and then used a roundhouse kick to slam the ambusher to the street. A follow-up stomp kick to the head knocked the enemy out.

"This is between Igor and me!" Clarke yelled, waving his arm. "No one else interfere!" Several Goth, skinhead, and preppie gang members at once backed off from him.

"You're going down, svoloch zarasa," Igor swore in Russian. Clarke's thrown pole had hit him in the face, preventing him from taking advantage of the ambusher's surprise attack. Now the Cossack spat out a tooth and advanced on Clarke.

"You first," Clarke answered, socking him in the jaw again. Igor did not fall down this time. Instead, he dropped his weapon, then lunged forward and ensnared Clarke in his powerful arms. The giant gritted his teeth as Igor laughed and squeezed.

Doug saw what was happening and spun away from his opponents. He threw the baton in his right hand at Igor. The screeching stick's tip hit the Cossack in the back of the neck. Igor grimaced and released Clarke, who immediately slammed his forehead into the Cossack's jaw.

"Next time," Igor mumbled, collapsing.

"Dos vadanya," Clarke said with a chuckle, easing his rival's unconscious body to the ground. He then retrieved his weapon and advanced on the nearest shocked group of thugs, who broke and ran at once. Clarke grinned after them and then went to help out his nearest team member in distress.

"Watch out!" Keira screamed at Doug. She knocked aside two female thugs moving to attack the distracted Doug with her riot baton and then engaged a third, the same punk who had been fighting Jodi Lee earlier. Keira dodged this opponent's whip and then slammed her baton into the enemy's knees. The dominatrix fell over and fainted as her chin impacted with the pavement. Frank had meanwhile knocked out both pirates and was now facing a Viking thug with a long blond beard.

"I got this one!" the porcine gargoyle Constance shouted, tackling the Viking. They roared at and pummeled each other as they fell to the ground. Constance knocked the Viking out with a chin blow, then leapt to her feet and faced four more gang members. Christopher and Diana ran to help her, roaring their fury and scratching with their claws and beaks.