Clear green eyes swept down the London alley swiftly. The usual dank and dirty backstreet littered with trashcans and loose cobbles remained still and silent. It was dark and gloomy as the moon couldn't stretch down the alley due to the looming buildings next to it. The eyes blinked slowly in exasperation, why was it that killers, thieves and all other do-badders hid down here? Did they think that no-one would suspect them to hide here? A scraggy cat yowled further along and scittered down the alley, keeping close to the wall. Nothing else moved.
Flicking his blonde bangs out of his eyes Tom Sawyer dismissed the alleyway as empty. There was, after all, probably another few hundred for the criminal to hide down. Hefting his valued rifle onto his shoulder Agent Tom Sawyer carried on his mission to the next alley to check if anything was there.
On the rooftop above the American sat a figure. He crouched down low so that his black trenchcoat dipped in the mid afternoon rain in London. His face was covered by a black cowboy hat that was angled forward. He watched the youngest league member thoughtfully. Earlier on he had stolen a few diamonds from the bank, not subtly either. He had walked straight up to the vault, shooting everyone behind him with his curious gray handled Winchester. He hadn't stolen too much, just enough so the London police thought he was dangerous enough to call up the League.
The League had answered immediatley, they arrived on the scene in way of a big entrance. The half-vampiress Mina Harker walked through the bank doors first, flanked by the young spy with his marvellous rifle. Behind them walked the regal Indian, the Captain of that wonderful machine Nautilus. Next to him was the doctor Jekyll and his counterpart somewhere inside.
The four walked into the room and stopped in the centre, they were obviously practiced at the whole looking professional gig. The door opened a final time and a floating trench coat and trilby walked in, the invisible man. Sawyer gave the man a nod and set to questioning the chief inspector. The rest searched the room for clues.
The man had disguised himself as one of the police officers and watched everything from a front seat view, his eyes kept returning to the Agent in the centre though.
"What weapon would you say the intruder carried?" Sawyer asked, as if everything was procedure. The Chief looked thoughtful then pointed to the rifle on Sawyer's shoulder.
"Like that, yeh, it was the same as the one on your shoulder. Was a bit more grey in colour though." Sawyer didn't reply. The man had chuckled at that point, he knew only the American secret service supplied modified Winchesters. For he had once been part of that service. Hearing what he had wanted, the man had walked out the building and almost made it until the cursed Vampire had recognised his scent as the one of the "intruder."
Things turned hectic, he tore off in the direction of London's underworld, darting through the alleys as the League raced to catch him. He felt the Vampire bats behind him and ducked swiftly into the nearest doorway, blending himself into the wall as the bats flew past. He turned and darted down another alley as he heard the roar, unmistakebly that monster Hyde.
He knew the beast would be able to follow his scent so with some quick thinking he buried himself in a nearby trashcan, trying to still his racing heartbeat as the monster grunted past. Once he was sure that Hyde couldn't hear him he let out a splurg of disgust - the reek of the rubbish was enough to make him retch. The monster might not be able to track his smell now, but with this layer of filth covering him, anyone else would smell him from a mile away.
Pulling himself up out of the trash can, the American cast away his police jacket. The two main worries were out of his way for the time being, both having lost his scent. No doubt they would find him again, just after he had finished what he came out here to do.
The man had retreated to the rooftops, retrieving his precious rifle and redressing in his coybow get up before he went in search for his target. He heard him before he saw him, talking with another member of the League. The cowboy followed the Cockney accent and the more familiar South American drawl and sure enough, saw his target. The two men were having a conversation. Using unnatural agility the cowboy vaulted across the expanse between two buildings, not once making a sound. He listened closely to the conversation.
"I don' get it! Why would a secret service Agent rob a bank?" Sawyer said in frustration. The floating jacket lifted his arm in reasoning.
"Perhaps he was short on cash? That's why most people take to robbin banks." Sawyer shook his head,
"So why did he stay behind afterwards? Disguise himself as an officer?" The man chuckled lightly, the Agent wasn't stupid.
"Dunno, praps he felt like doing a Tom Sawyer, impersonating someone else, he'll be offering us a gun next." The invisible man gave a chuckle of his own. Sawyer growled.
"This is different Skinner! I was trying to help you." The jacket now lifted his hands in a surrender motion.
"Never said you wasn't Tom, No disrespect meant. But, don't you think we should go find the bugger and get the answers ourselves?" Skinner suggested. The agent nodded his head,
"You're right, You go left. Meet back at the Nautilus in an hour if you haven't found anything." The hat nodded and they walked off in separate directions. The cowboy smiled then followed his target.
Which led him here. Crouched on top of a dilapidated building, watching Sawyer investigate each alley, certain each one held the criminal. The cowboy grew bored of this waiting. He sensed that the beast and the vampiress were too far away to hear any scuffle, or screams. It was time. Standing tall, the cowboy walked off the roof.
Agent Tom Sawyer sighed, he had half an hour left to return to the Nautilus and already had no luck in finding evidence of the criminal's existence. He knew he should have chosen the way Skinner had gone, maybe then he would have had some action…
Tom's ears pricked up as he heard a billowing sound, then he turned up his nose in disgust – something stunk! He turned around slowly and saw a tall man standing where there was nothing earlier. The man wore a black trench coat that swept around his boots, hiding his black shirt and pants underneath. A dark cowboy hat perched on his head, covering his face and hiding black curly hair. He stood in a cocky stance, much like Sawyer did - when he was feeling triumphant at something. An American Winchester was balanced on the shoulder of the man, the handle a dark grey instead of the light brown of Sawyers own.
Tom studied the man carefully, recognising the outfit to be a mutated form of the Secret Service Uniform. Tom didn't follow the code properly either though, choosing to wear his clothes slack rather than the regulated stiff dress code. This man in front must work for the Secret Service. Since he had not made any move Tom decided to speak first.
"Why did you steal from the bank?" There was no cliché "who are you" questions, Tom didn't care who the man was, just his motives. The man laughed, a deep grizzle that made the hairs stand up on the back of Tom's neck.
"Why do you care Agent Sawyer? You are not losing anything from the theft." Sawyer growled, he hoisted the rifle off his shoulder and pointed at the man, finger pressing gently on the trigger.
"You didn't answer my question." It did not worry him that the man knew his name, the League were practically famous.
"And you did not answer mine." The American replied, he too took the gun off his shoulder and pointed it at the other.
"Fine. I care because what you did was wrong. You shot innocent people, that is not something a Secret Service Agent would do." The man lifted his head, revealing his mouth, it was curved up in a smile.
"I see you recognise my weapon, probably my clothes as well. Yet I am not a Secret Service Agent – Not anymore. I see you do not recognise who I am. Otherwise you would not eagerly point your weapon at me."
"How should I know who you are. I just care about what you did tonight!" Tom spat.
"You never change, do you Tom? But I can't help but wonder, where is your partner? Surely you wouldn't have let your good pal Huckleberry Finn die?" At Tom's silence the man continued. "Ah, I see that you did. Maybe you did change, the Agent Sawyer I heard about would have never let his friend die."
"Shut up!" Tom yelled. "Who are you anyway!" He was riled up, he felt enough guilt for Huck's death, this man was no-one to speak like that, whoever he was. The man chuckled, a low sound which sounded almost like a growl.
"I'm just an Agent, here to do my mission from my new employer, and before you ask me. My mission is a little search and capture one." Tom kept silent again, he wasn't sure he liked where this was headed. After a minute when the man didn't say anymore he took it as his cue to ask the question, to which he already knew the answer. Tom swallowed.
"So, why did you come and find me?" The Winchester pointed at him waved a little, indicating the answer.
"Because Tom Sawyer. My new employer wants rogue Agents under his rule,"
"I'm not a rogue Agen-" Tom couldn't finish his statement as the man suddenly leapt forward. Tom pulled the trigger of his Winchester by reflex, shooting the man. He stopped mid-flight and fell to the ground. Tom nudged the body with the toe of his boot. The man didn't move. Grimacing, Tom stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. His call to the others that could hear him, they would have probably heard the gun shot first anyway.
Tom listened to the wind, no replying whistle sounded, no pounding of Hyde's feet or flutter of Mina's bats. He was out of range.
"Nemo really should think of something to call than this." Tom groaned, looking again at the downed man. Only, he wasn't downed. He wasn't there at all!
Whirling around Tom stared for where the man could have gone, instincts set on high gear and senses pricked for anything. A hand came down upon the back of Tom's neck and his nerves set alight with agony. He cried out and fell to the floor, unconscious.
The man returned the favour, nudging Tom's unmoving body with his own toe. Not too gently either. He chuckled and bent down to pick the body up, hearing Tom's laboured breathing and grabbing his gun he hefted the League member onto his shoulder. With Tom firmly set the man performed an impossible leap to the building above, not noticing as one of Tom's colts fell out the holster and to the floor below.
A few minutes later after the cowboy had escaped with Tom a lone whistle echoed through the night and a roar charged down the alleys.
I Hope to continue this as soon as possible, LXG is just so brilliant, especially Shane West as Tom Sawyer!
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