GARGOYLES: Re-Awakening

Suspicion: 2

Demona was seated at a table in front of the cafe. The late morning sun was shining on her bare arms and she was enjoying it. She was thinking back to the first time she ever felt the sun on her skin. She hadn't liked it then. It was too intense. To a Gargoyle, the first of her kind to ever have felt the sun, the warmth was simply overwhelming. She thought for a moment of the being who had given her this gift—her brow furrowed. Curse would be a more appropriate word. Puck's curse.

But that was all a long time ago. Demona had learned much since that day, especially about humans. In her Gargoyle form, she only interacted with humans at night. Night, she discovered, was different than day. Humans did different things during the day. They behaved differently, had different moods, different goals. The daytime offered a whole host of opportunities that were not so readily available at night.

She had also learned about money. She understood that for many humans, money was as powerful as any spell and as with magic, the more you used, the more dramatic the effect. Today Demona was going to hand over a very large sum, so large that it would ensure she would not be betrayed to Xanatos by her accomplice. Not because the human would feel honor-bound by the size of the fee, of course—Demona had decided long ago that honor was always temporary in humans, never constant—but rather because the size of the fee would free the human up to retire to a life of leisure. He would resign from Xanatos Enterprises that afternoon and disappear into a life of meaningless amusement. Demona's eyes narrowed. She felt disgusted.

As if on cue, a skinny, nerdy looking man suddenly plopped into the chair in front of her.

"Hey good-lookin'!" He exclaimed.

Demona, briefly startled and completely revolted, recoiled into the back of her chair.

"You know, babe, I was thinkin', You're obviously a rich woman. Maybe we should team up totally. You know, we could be a pair. With your looks and my skills, we could make our own company and bury Xanatos and Cyberbiotics. Why mess around with their systems? We'll just make our own way in the world—aaaahh!"

As he was finishing Demona had suddenly reached across the table, grabbed his wrist, and twisted. The pain had caused him to nearly flinch out of his chair. Fortunately for him a waiter half turned to look in their direction, causing Demona to immediately release him. For a moment, they sat awkwardly, he rubbing his wrist and she feigning a smile until the attention was off of them. When the coast was clear, she addressed him.

"Hear this now, worm. You have one task for which you will be handsomely rewarded with money. That is the extent of our acquaintance. After today, you will never see me again, unless—"

"Unless what?" The man jumped in, squeakily, clearly frightened and still nursing his wrist.

"Unless you prove yourself duplicitous, in which case I will find you and you will suffer a fate beyond that which your puny mind can comprehend."

"Duplicitous?" He replied, meekly, seeming genuinely hurt by the accusation. "I'm just a software engineer. I'm not a con-man."

Demona composed herself. This human was pathetic. If she pushed him too hard he might fall apart and that would be a disaster. It had taken her weeks to find a person with the right mixture of characteristics to carry out this plan. She had needed someone who was good enough with computer programing to design what she needed and high enough within the company to be capable of delivering it, but at the same time lack-luster enough to be stuck in a dead-end life and therefore open to temptation. That was no easy mix to find. However, if Demona had learned one thing over a thousand years, it was that there was always someone who could be played.

"Mr. Zimmerman," she began, then softened her toned even further, "Stanley. Forgive my roughness. It is merely the importance of this task. This program must be successfully delivered. As you know, this," Demona slid a USB stick across the table, "is the first of two payments, enough to take you anywhere you would like to go on this earth. The second payment, which will give you power beyond anything you have yet experienced, will come to you after it is confirmed that your work was a success."

"Oh it will be," Stanley said. "I can guarantee you that."

"Good. Because should that not be the case, I can not be held responsible for what will befall you." Demona's eyes pierced the air between them. Then they softened again. "And I would hate to see anything unfortunate in your future."

Stanley shifted and pulled at his collar.

"I'll install it this weekend. No one will be there and I've developed a brilliant worm to deliver it from my computer, through the intranet, into a series of terminals and finally into the destination pathway!" Stanley had become ever more animated as he went along until he noticed Demona's stone-like posture.

"It...it'll work," he finished.

"Good," Demona said. "Then you and I will both be satisfied."

With that, she rose and walked away without a further glance. Stanley pouted for a moment, but then remembered the USB she had given him and a smile came across his face.

"Waitress!" He exclaimed. "Bring me a piece of cheesecake. No, bring me the whole thing!"