Night Anchor

Night had settled over the brick canyon below when a faint rhythmic chime drew my attention to the gargoyle's granite shoulder. A forgotten copper chain loop dangled over the sheer drop, swinging with each draft against the stone face. I stepped along the narrow masonry flange, boots gripping the coarse mortar. Lowering my stance to counter the updraft, I gripped the cold metal links with both gauntlets and drew them taut. A heavy iron split-pin lay trapped in the rain channel nearby. I threaded the pin through the final link and wedged it deep into a recessed stone joint. The rattle died. Gotham breathes below. Silence is back in order.