Gargoyles X TMNT: Shadows of New York

Foreigners

"Fans, at this time, we ask you all to please rise. Three weeks ago, Americans' hearts were filled with sorrow. Tonight, America is standing tall. We salute all the heroes who have spent tireless days and nights keeping America's hopes and pride alive. Our hearts, prayers, and thoughts go out to the families and friends of the victims of these tragedies. Please, remain standing as we pause for a moment of silence."

Throughout the Giants Stadium, the thick silence was broken only by a very small scattered number of dwindling cheers. That night, in the distance across the Hudson River, the Empire State Building glowed in stripes of red, white, and blue. Fans on both sides of the stadium wore their teams' colors. But outnumbering them by far were the ones decked in the same patriotic hues and carrying tiny pennants in their echoing stripes as they bowed their heads. Some quietly wept. Others lowered their gaze to their shoes, or to the hole in the skyline that they knew would never be filled again. Rather than the common rivalry amongst fans of the sport, that night they were united by one thing; national grief.

For three members of the audience in particular, this brief moment of quietude was particularly striking. They sat, hunched in the shadows above the stadium, in the dark shadows of the billboards surrounding the peak of the blaring, brightly lit valley. The moment of silence passed, and the game began with the national anthem.

"Man," The broadest gargoyle wolfed down a hot dog easily half the size of his arm in one gulp, earfin pricked up as he listened to a man's intense and stirring voice belting the national anthem. "I knew that the towers falling down hurt these people badly. But aren't they supposed to be enemies?"

"Not tonight, they're not." The clever one looked up from his book of complicated football rules. "I guess that sort of thing tends to pull people together behind a common good."

"I guess." Repeated the white-haired one. He stooped with his wings up-raised and tail outstretched for balance as he leaned over the billboard for what he was pretty sure was a famous phone company. "The man singing down there sure has a strong voice. What sort of magic is he using to make it carry so far?"

"Maybe he's a bard." The broad one polished off another hot dog. "You know, like the speakers and poets with the druids in the Green Isle. I've heard they're incredible singers." There was a roar from the crowd as a clot of white and green shapes moved and curled against one another across the field, like a flock of birds forming colorful clouds against the green canvas. The eldest passed his binoculars to the smallest among them so he could take a look.

"What did the referee say?" The eldest asked.

"Penalty in favor of the 49ers. I think that means they get a free kick?" The green one flipped his book open again, scanning the pages for a reference to the rule. He passed the binoculars to the blue one, flicking through the pages with one prehensile foot as he clung to the billboard with his other three claws.

"Man." The broad one squinted into the frames of the binoculars. "This game sure is complicated. I wonder why they have to stop every time they take someone down?"

"Mostly to make sure that when the ball touches the ground or when the player gets taken down, they can mark it accurately. That, and in case anybody's hurt." The clever one replies.

And so the match continued for them, hiding behind the Verizon billboard as they watched the opposing swarms of green and white meet, and clash, following the ball like tiny iron shavings to a lodestone. Tackle after tackle, throw after throw, run after run, it seemed like each spurt of action only lasted a few seconds. The red one found himself getting a little... bored. He rested his beak on his knuckles, eyes beginning to droop.

Being so far away sure made the game less interesting to watch. Seeing it on TV was almost better. But still, without his younger brother's clarification and the help of his small book, it would have been even duller. Out of the three of them, the younger brother had always had the best eyesight. It was amazing what details he could see from even this distance. The way he described it, it was almost as if he were a few feet away, rather than almost a quarter mile.