The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

Timestream Dreams

Prologue

Disclaimer:  I don't own any of the League characters in this story.  I do own the OCs in the story, Francis de Lauriet, his wife Leeanna, his daughter Alice, and his two lackeys Reflex and Muscle.  V is someone…but that's all I'm saying.  Someone.  Also, a note:  This IS movieverse.  In fact, it takes place at the same time as the movie, so you will hear about the events of the movie in this story.  Just not directly, that's all.  As far as the elements of the comic book that are in this story, they are here simply because I like the concept, don't expect me to bend to any purists who tell me, "You have Campion here, so you have to be using the League line-up from the comic!"  You will be duly ignored.  Now, on with the show.

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The warm wind blew across the dusty plain, the three men standing at the mouth of a cave, partially caved in at the entrance.  The first man was of average height, with dark hair that fell to about the middle of his neck.  It was combed back neatly, just as his dark beard was trimmed somewhat closer to the face than normal, though the mustache that bled in was allowed a bit more leeway.  Dark eyes, a brown that was nearly black, searched the path the trio had traveled, trying to pick out anything that moved.  If there were even a sign of a human body, the thin, pale man that was dressed like the Lord of some European estate would call the operation off for today.  Finally, after tense minutes that seemed like hours, the man turned and looked to the giant comrade that stood just in front of the rocks at the mouth.

This man was enormous, with bulging muscles that barely fit into the servants' clothes he was more or less shoved into.  He had short black hair and looked to be an incredibly fit man in his middle years.  He was a giant of a man, towering at nearly 6'5" tall, and seemed to be made of muscle.  A large, somewhat sloping brow bled into a large, flat nose.  Emotionless, sunken brown eyes stared unblinking at the rocks, while his benefactor scanned the horizon to see if anyone was watching or following.  It took a few minutes, but the bearded man turned and nodded.  "Muscle, make us a door."  Muscle grinned slightly and nodded.

"Right away, Mr. Lauriet."  The accent was apparently American, though Muscle had no idea whether he was or not.  His employer, Francis de Lauriet, had found Muscle on a well-traveled road in Paris, not four years ago.  Muscle had no memories of any time before then.  He hadn't even known the date when he'd been found.  All he knew was that he was an incredibly fit, strong individual, and that Mr. Lauriet had taken incredible care of him.  Now he was returning the favor with his loyal service.  In this instance, he was to clear a path through the rocks that had been used to purposely block off the mouth of this cave.  Apparently, there was something valuable stored within the cave, something that Mr. Lauriet wanted.  There was one thing Mr. Lauriet had bred into his employees.

What Mr. Lauriet wanted, Mr. Lauriet got.

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Muscle glanced to the third man, Christopher "Reflex" Armand before nodding once more.  Reflex was a lithe man, sinewy muscle always tensed, ready to blow at any given moment.  A cigarette was nestled in the corner of his mouth, his long coat blowing in the hot Hill Valley wind.  He was not used to such dry weather, and he blew out a disgusted sigh through his nose.  He had a thin nose and a hard face, as if he'd seen much trouble in his life.  His brown eyes had a piercing quality, and even his employer wasn't immune.  His mouth was normally the thing that pierced, though…one's patience, specifically.  "Hey, think we could hurry this up at all?  It's too hot out here."

"Shut up, Reflex," Muscle groaned as he hefted a large rock and threw it to the side.  It went much farther than most normal people could throw it, revealing that Muscle was, in fact, more than the normal human.  "Almost there, Mr. Lauriet."

"Well, it's about time," Reflex groaned, only to receive a sharp look from his employer.  "Sorry, Mr. L."

"Good.  Is there a path clear enough to get through," Francis asked, stepping closer to Muscle to get a better look.  He pushed back the left side of his golden-trimmed coat to reveal a thin sword strapped on over his finely sewn pants.  Heavy boots thunked against the ground as the dusty, sandy plains gave way to rock.  His unbuttoned collar revealed that, though he was in more control of himself, he agreed with Reflex about the heat.

"Think so, Mr. Lauriet.  Just let me move this last rock, here, and…there!"  Muscle shoved through the narrow path he'd made, followed by Francis, and Reflex behind him, knives twirling in his hands.  Francis exuded an aura of arrogant confidence, and his hand never flinched towards his sword.  Reflex hated that about his boss, how he always seemed to be in control of himself, to never feel paranoid, or even cautious, about anything.  It was as if he just inherently knew when was the time for weapons and when was not.

"Are you sure this is the place," Reflex asked, looking around in the dank, relatively dark cave.

"This is where Moriarty said we would find the time machine," Francis replied, sounding irritated that his underling would question him.

"Sorry, Mr. L," Reflex repeated, picking up on his employer's somewhat less-than-subtle tone.  "You're right.  I just wonder why he was so mysterious about it."

"We always knew Moriarty had his own agendas and plots," Francis returned.  "Just be glad we were able to steer him away from his plan involving the Cavorite."

"Oh, that would've been great," Reflex replied sarcastically, smirking and taking a drag on his cigarette immediately afterwards.

"For once, Reflex, I agree with you," Francis replied, and then he grimaced and added, "Put that thing out.  You know I detest that habit of yours.  It's a wonder I let you do it at all."

"Mr. L…"

"Yes, yes," Francis replied, exasperated.  "It keeps your nerves calm.  Fine, just be certain you won't be taking a puff on it when you should be putting up a fight."

"I always do, Mr. L," Reflex stated proudly.

"Don't get cocky, Reflex," Francis chided, and then turned his attention to Muscle.  "Have you found anything?"

"I think you might want to look at this, Mr. Lauriet."

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"I think you might want to look at this, Mr. Lauriet."  Muscle was amazed at what he was seeing.  In some ways, it resembled a box with four wheels, but at the same time, it didn't.  It was garish, and appeared to be fairly weathered.  It also didn't have a square top, instead having four doors on the side and posts that came up from those at a slant, almost like a trapezoid viewed in three dimensions.  The colors were gray, and blue running up the middle of the posts.  This was the alleged time machine, the DeLorean, called an automobile.  The other two men began to step forward, but a shot rang out and ricocheted off the left wall of the cave, stopping them in their tracks.

"I don't think so," came the voice of an elderly man.  He stepped into the light of the cave, revealing straggly white hair that was pushed down to his upper back by a cowboy hat.  His tan coat draped to just below his knees, his blacksmith's apron still on under the coat.  His ice blue eyes were staring down the sights of an impressive rifle, leveled directly at Francis's head.  "Just back up and nobody will get hurt."

"Doctor Emmett Brown, I presume," Francis stated, turning to look at the man.  Reflex tensed up, but Francis held up a hand and shook his head.  Reflex glanced to his boss for a moment and then relaxed, though his knives were now held at the ready instead of twirling.  "I am Francis de Lauriet.  I come from a faraway country-"

"I don't much care where you come from," Emmett returned, rifle never wavering.  "I just want you out of this cave."

"Is there something sensitive here, Doctor Brown," Francis asked, a smug smirk crawling up his lips.  Muscle hadn't moved, not wanting to anger Doctor Brown, but his brow was creased in concern for his employer.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't know the answer already," Emmett returned.  "Now, we're going to walk out of this cave and I'm going to give you some free blacksmithing to make you forget all about the long road you took to get here."

"The road has already been forgotten, Doctor Brown."  Francis didn't appear concerned at all.  "It is the time machine that resides within…that is what cannot be forgotten."

"Don't make me shoot you," Emmett sighed.  "I hate having to shoot people."

"Have you ever shot anyone," Francis asked, his tone reeking of patronizing arrogance.

"First time for everything," Emmett stated, his tone harder than it had previously been.

"Then shoot, Doctor Brown," Francis replied, grinning.  "But, my advice:  Do make it a good shot."  A tense moment passed as Emmett stared down the sights of his rifle at Francis's head.

"What's your name," Emmett asked.

"Francis de Lauriet," the European man returned.  "Not that it will do you any good."  Emmett sighed and pulled the trigger, and the bullet tore through Francis's head.  The man dropped, as if dead, and Emmett then turned his rifle to Reflex.  "Doctor Brown," Francis called, getting up and letting Emmett watch as the last of the wound healed, "I think you're forgetting something."

"Impossible," Emmett gasped, stumbling backwards in shock.  "I shot you!"

"What a good shot it was, too," Francis stated mockingly, scooping a bit of the drying blood up with his fingers.  "If I were human, I would be dead."  Emmett raised his rifle, intending to shoot again, but this time Francis signaled to Reflex.  Reflex whipped his hand forward, sending his knife sailing towards Doctor Brown.  The elderly man was forced to hop backwards to avoid Reflex's knife winding up sticking into his head.  "We'll be leaving now, Doctor Brown," Francis stated, climbing into the DeLorean, Muscle taking the driver's seat and Reflex climbing into the back.  "Don't try to stop us.  You don't have the capabilities to do so."  Emmett was forced to watch as his greatest, and perhaps most dangerous, invention was simply driven out of the cave.  A long time seemed to pass, and finally, Emmett began making his way out of the cave.

"Damnit."

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A week later, Emmett was furious.  He'd sent a letter to the American government, explaining the situation and requesting their aid in the matter in the form of one or two of their best Special Agents.  He held the reply in his shaking hands, Clara regarding him with a concerned look.  "What is it, Emmett?"

"Listen to this:  'Dear Doctor Brown,

                               We regret to inform you that we simply cannot help you in this matter.  First of all, your claims of having built a time traveling machine, and of being from the future, are, to be blunt…ridiculous.  No such situation could be true, and in fact, I would suggest seeking professional counseling, as I know that seems to be something that a man of science would do.  Secondly, even if we did give enough credence to your claim to send the Agents you have requested, we do not have those two to send.  Special Agent Sawyer is on assignment overseas, and Special Agent Finn died in the line of duty not too long ago.  Should you wish to continue investigation of this rather tawdry claim, you may, but you will not have our help in the matter.'"  By the end of it, Emmett was biting off his words and nearly biting off his tongue in the process.  "They're treating me like a lunatic," Emmett growled, throwing up his hands in defeat.

"Well, Emmett, ya have to admit, it does sound pretty ridiculous," Clara said reassuringly.  "Ah mean, Ah know ya aren't lyin', but they sure don't."

"Yeah, yeah," Emmett groaned, tossing the letter onto his worktable.  "You're right, as usual."  It took a moment, but an idea seemed to be blooming in his head, and Clara took notice.

"What is it, honey?  You've got that look in your eyes when you're inventin' something."

"Well…if Agent Sawyer is overseas, why can't I take my business there too?"

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It took a few weeks for Emmett to be convinced that the British government was ignoring him, but at last he was forced to admit that it was true.  He would have no aid in the situation, and would be forced to go after the thieves himself.  He was packing when Clara came into their bedroom with a smile on her face.  "Emmett…ya have a visitor."

"Tell 'em to go away, Clara," Emmett responded despondently.  "I don't want to see anyone."

"I thought ya'd say that," she purred.  "He's a bit of a big man…with a British accent."  Emmett's eyes widened a moment, and then he grabbed his rifle and strode out to meet his visitor.

The tubby, well-dressed gentleman was sitting at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers slightly.  He had black hair that was kept neatly short and wore a tuxedo that appeared to be worn baggy to help hide his bulk.  He was having limited success.  When he noticed Doctor Brown he stood and extended his hand.  "Doctor Brown.  I'm Campion Bond, from Her Majesty's Secret Service.  We received your letter late, or I would have been here sooner."

"It's alright," Emmett replied, shaking the extended hand a bit uneasily.  "I just hope you can do more than my own government could."

"Well," Bond replied, grinning slightly, "that depends on what you mean by doing something."

"Helping me track down these thieves, of course," Emmett responded.

"Well…directly, we can do nothing."  Emmett started to protest, but Campion silenced him with a raise of his hand.  "However…if we were to gather a team, a team that was in some way under the employ of the British empire but was, in fact, viewed as independent…they could do something."  He removed a golden pocket watch from his front coat pocket, looked at it, and dropped it back into its pocket.  "We'll have to be going now, though.  He can't wait forever."  Bond turned and headed out, forcing Emmett to either follow or remain where he was.  Emmett, of course, followed.  "He is at the docks," Bond stated.  "He's been briefed on the situation."

"How do you know you can trust him," Emmett asked.

"There have been times in the past when the British Empire has needed a few…tricky situations resolved.  He has provided the transportation for that, and in return, we have, ah…looked the other way in terms of his piracy."

"Piracy," Emmett gasped, turning the corner and stopping in his tracks.  They had made it to the docks, and tied there was a large ship, magnificent in appearance, with large, billowy sails and polished wood construction.

"Doctor Emmett Brown…meet the Black Pearl, and her captain…Captain Jack Sparrow."