Epilogue- Brooklyn's Restoration

After Goliath was remade into a bigger, stronger leader, Brooklyn was never going to be far behind. Enjoy!

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Brooklyn had never quite felt worthy of being Goliath's successor, and when the already massive gargoyle was reshaped into an absolute mountain of muscle, Brooklyn worried he would forever be cast in Goliath's shadow— but then, the same process that had so thoroughly transformed Goliath sank into him, rebuilding the brick-red gargoyle from the ground up. Night by night he grew larger and more powerful, invisible hands sculpting him into something more in the sunlit hours. Now, he could barely recognize himself, in all the best ways possible. It was getting hard to tell his tapestry of back muscle from the brick walls of New York City; even then, he marveled as he leaned against the clock tower wall, his sprawling landmass of a back alone spilled out over the sides of his perch.

His buttress-sized lats mashed against his arms, anvil-sized triceps grinding back against them, and Brooklyn let out a low growl, basking in the sheer, rock-solid heft of his gargantuan body. His boulder-like biceps, larger than his head, could protect him better than any piece of armor or spell- all he had to do was raise his arm and flex, and bullets, weapons, even magical energies scattered against the iron he had forged in his gigantic body. He could crack pavement with one powerful stomp, and the way his tire-thick thighs and pillar-like legs forced him into a lumbering swagger had contributed to a growing, gratifying thought; Brooklyn owned New York's streets. Nothing could touch him, and he was going to start protecting Manhattan his way.

That thought made his enormous canyon of a chest swell with pride, casting the swollen, brick-like abs in shadow. He dared a toothy grin— all this power, all this strength, meant he was finally free to run the clan his way. Goliath was off on bigger things, and with both of them in the Clock Tower or perched on Wyvern Castle's turrets, there was a real danger of them buckling the foundation— Manhattan wasn't big enough for the both of them, they were too big for Manhattan, and Goliath graciously gave Brooklyn the title of Clan Leader. He could be the leader he had always dreamt of being and, as he contemplated his strength once more, flexing his gigantic arm, he couldn't wait to get started.