"Gargoyle, is that you…?" Sir PM's face turned a whiter shade of pale as he approached his old friend on a moonlit night. He had decided to check out the reason for all the noise emanating from inside Victoria Terminus. It had been disturbing his shuteye for a while now. But, for the life of him, he couldn't figure what had changed since their last chat, barely a week ago.

"It's me only, Sir PM. It was an overnight transformation. One day I was fine, and by the next morning before I knew it, I had my nose chiselled into something that you'd see on the face of a platypus. Yes, there were cracks around my spine and jaw line but I didn't ask for this. See, I knew something wasn't right for some time. There were these men who had taken over the building; they had climbed up the scaffolding as part of some 'mega project'. As I went under the knife, I noticed that a few others around me were also undergoing similar procedures," he stuttered, struggling to speak at this usual pace. 'Poor Gargoyle. He must be in post-operative shock,' Sir PM thought to himself.