The Multiverser of the League Chapter 1: The New League's Formation, a league of extraordinary gentlemen fanfic

I've been getting into the comics of Alan Moore recently and came across the masterpiece that is The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. I'd seen the film adaptation before and I wasn't a big fan of it, but upon reading the graphic novel on which it was based, I suddenly became ROYALLY PISSED OFF! Seriously, they took a mature, interesting story which focuses on the literary ancestors of modern superheroes as part of their own superhero team and turned it into a generic action movie with so many plot holes there was barely anything there at all.

That's why I decided to send Dexter Verser into the world of the comic.

As an Englishman, I was very pleased with the discovery that we have our own version of the Justice League of America, and even more pleased to discover it was so full of classic characters. And since the series as a whole now spans the better part of a century, I thought it would be the perfect comic to do a Multiverser story for.

For those of you who are unaware, I'll give you this warning now: Multiversers are OP as hell and can easily come across as Gary Stus/Mary Sues. They're immortal, omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent. If this idea doesn't strike your fancy, leave the story now! You have been warned.

The world of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen being what it is, I'm definitely going to be including characters and plots from other fictional sources as we go along, and for the first time ever, I don't need to have them brought into this world by an outside source. Don't get me wrong, that's still going to happen, too, but nowhere near as frequently as it does in the other Multiverser stories. I enjoy writing that out, but it's just not needed here.

Welcome to The Multiverser of the League!

Let's begin.

DISCLAIMER: I IN NO WAY OWN THE LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY GENTLEMEN OR ANY OF THE OTHER FRANCHISES I UTILISE IN THIS STORY! I ONLY OWN DEXTER VERSER, BLUE HEART, AND ANY OTHER OCs THAT SHOW UP THAT AREN'T OTHER MULTIVERSERS OR THEIR OCs! THEIR OCs BELONG TO THEM!

Voice Cast (how I envision characters being voiced)

Dexter Verser = Susan Dalian (think her voice for Haku from Naruto but with a more English accent)

Mina Murray = Winona Ryder (pretty much just because she played Mina in the 1992 Dracula film)

Campion Bond = Ralph Fiennes

Captain Nemo = Irrfan Khan

Allan Quatermain = Sean Connery

Henry Jekyll/Edward Hyde = James Nesbitt

Blue Heart = Rebecca Riedy

Hawley Griffin/The Invisible Man = Claude Rains

BGMs

London Town – Miracle of Sound

Drink Up Me Hearties Yo Ho – Hans Zimmer

The Master Suite – Murray Gold

Introduction (Titles) – Danny Elfman (from the Edward Scissorhands soundtrack)

Arc One: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

Chapter One: The New League's Formation

Third Person POV

Dover. May 1898

Campion Bond waited by the guard railing patiently. It was a lovely day, but he was not in the mindset to enjoy it – not when business as serious as this was to be talked about. Bond took out his cigarette case and took one out.

Bond was a very large man, and not in the "muscular" way, more in a "this man's job involves a lot of sitting down" way. His dark hair had once been a mullet, but the strong winds that had been blowing periodically throughout the day had blown it into some unrecognisable do. His beady black eyes looked constantly suspicious. He had a small moustache-beard combo which seemed rather elegant despite only extending to the first of his several chins. His eyelashes were strangely pronounced and his eyebrows were neatly groomed. He had a small mole on his left cheek. He wore a fancy suit and long-coat, presumably to emphasise the importance of his job.

Bond's coat blew in the wind as he struggled against said wind to insert his cigarette into the holder he used to smoke. He got it in and lit it up and was happier for it.

The sound of approaching high heels caught his attention, but he did not turn around.

"Mr Bond," said Mina Murray. She was cordial and business-like as usual. "Good day to you, sir."

Bond turned around to face her. "Oh, please, Miss Murray, do call me Campion … and perhaps in return, I might refer to you as 'Wilhelmina'? Simply remarkable, the view here, isn't it?"

Mina was a beautiful woman and only a fool would deny it. She had a severe, serious face that only added to the feeling of elegance that surrounded her. Her short brown hair was styled into curls. Her light blue dress matched her pretty eyes. The dress also had areas of dark blue and came with a hat that had a long blue feather sticking out of it. She wore a long red scarf tightly around her neck and it blew in the wind. The dress was impractical, as was common for the time period, and looked as though it would be incredibly difficult to move in in the event of a combat situation.

"Remarkable," Mina agreed. "And 'Miss Murray' will be quite sufficient."

"As you wish," said Bond dryly. He took a drag of his cigarette. "It must have rather hurt your former husband's feelings, mustn't it? Reverting to your maiden name like that? I dare say the poor chap's mortified."

"Thankfully, my former husband's feelings are no longer my concern. Nor are they yours. I take it the captain will be here soon?"

"One would imagine so, but then as the sole turn in our menagerie that you've so far recruited, you know more of him than I. He suffers from an inflammation of the brain, I'm told?"

"He has his eccentricities, but at least he is courteous. Do you consider me a part of your 'menagerie'?"

Bond gave a slimy smile. "Dear lady, what am I to say? Your history has placed you far beyond the social pale. Divorce is one thing, but that other business … ravished by a foreigner and all that. Quite against your will, of course, but then people do talk, don't they?"

"Yes. I'm afraid they do."

Mina felt more than a bit miffed at Bond's mention of her ordeal with the vampire known as Count Dracula. The whole incident had left permanent scars on both her memories and her neck, which she so painstakingly used her scarf to cover up. The fact that people, as Bond had quite correctly stated, spread rumours that she had a sexual relationship with the vile vampire disgusted her to no end. She had essentially lost all patience with other people these days.

"Still, chin up, eh?" said Bond. "As we see, England has a place for you, in the employ of my superior."

"Oh, yes," said Mina. "The gentleman who's known by his initial, like a seaside landlord: Mr M. We both know very well it's Mycroft Holmes we're speaking of. Why not simply admit it?"

"This'll certainly be hilarious in hindsight," said a new, gender-neutral voice.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr Verser," said Bond. "I was beginning to fear you wouldn't show up."

"If you know me by reputation, I doubt the thought so much as entered your mind."

"Indeed. It's good to have you here."

"I'm sorry, but who is this?" asked Mina. "Mr Bond, you never told me we were being joined by somebody."

"It would have been far too difficult to explain if you hadn't met him first, Miss Murray. Now that he's here, however, I can introduce you. This is Dexter Verser."

Dexter Verser was the most feminine man Mina had ever seen. His face was soft-looking, and his skin was smooth and pale. His hair was mid-length and black with bright blue streaks in it. He had bright blue eyes with irises that were a strange shape (what future generations would come to know as "power symbols"). His clothes were tight on him, showing off his slim, feminine but athletic body, with a thin waist and wide hips. He wore a wide-brimmed black Stetson on his head and had a piece of black cloth with white patterns on it hung loosely around his neck. On his upper body, he wore a black leather trench coat with a dark brown hooded shirt beneath and a dark red vest beneath that, the coat and shirt both being left open to reveal the vest beneath. On his incredibly pronounced legs was a pair of tight black trousers which emphasised his round, firm, thick ass and his manhood, which Mina didn't have to imagine at all due to the tightness of his clothes, and a pair of brown shoes.

"At your service," Dexter said, giving a little bow to Mina.

Mina curtseyed. "Mina Murray," she said. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Mr Verser here has been in our 'menageries' in the past," explained Bond.

"How many of them?" asked Mina.

"A large enough amount that any further explanations can wait until the two of you are done recruiting the others. Now, your task is to find this chap in Cairo, or whatever's left of him. Tell him how much his country needs him …"

"… For a menagerie. Of course. Don't worry, Mr Bond. I won't let you down."

"I shouldn't think you will. Mr Verser has never failed us yet, even if he's had … strained relations with the British government in the past." Bond's demeanour turned sour.

Dexter shrugged. "I'm no mindless, following sheep, Mr Bond. If I see something I don't like happening, I'll do what I can to change it. My homeland, much as I love it, is not exempt from that."

"We live in troubled times, Mr Verser, where fretful dreams settle upon the Empire's brow. If England's to survive them, then it is vital that you work with us. The both of you, be about it vigorously and without delay, for the shadows of the century grow long …" There was a rather large amount of movement in the water a little way away from the pier. "… And your chariot approaches."

Mina eyed Dexter curiously. He was an odd man, she decided.

(Play "London Town" by Miracle of Sound)

Opening Instrumentals

We are treated to a view of London docks. There is no wind or rain, thus the sea still other than the usual waves.

… But there is one area that is being disturbed …

The Nautilus emerges from beneath the waves, its mass causing quite a stir in the streets.

The camera pans down to the streets, where the workers are all gawking at the huge ship, their skin and clothes black with dirt.

Slaves in seas of soot we drown

Come on down to London town

The Nautilus opens up and out steps Dexter Verser.

Susan Dalian

The cogs they creak and pistons pound

Come on down to London town

Following Dexter out of the ship is Captain Nemo. He glares around at his surroundings bitterly, scowling.

Irrfan Khan

Power cloaked in progress

Smoke in Eden's eyes

The camera cuts to London Bridge where, awaiting the two gentlemen, Mina Murray stands, making sure to keep as far away from passers-by as possible. Her red scarf is blown to the side in a sudden gust of wind.

Winona Ryder

A million choking chimneys burn

And blacken out the sky

We are suddenly in Paris, in a small flat. Dr Henry Jekyll has his hands clutched against his face tightly, his face cringing. In the mirror he is facing, Mr Edward Hyde grins out at him maliciously.

James Nesbitt

So grab your mates and join us

Where the rats rejoice

Standing over a dead police officer, Hawley Griffin wears the dead man's clothes and smokes a cigarette he no doubt took from the man's pocket. He is completely invisible but pays no attention to the horrified looks of the people he passes.

Claude Rains

The brazen brass of the working class

Are here to find their voice

In an extravagant office, Professor James Moriarty, otherwise known as "M," sits in a chair behind a desk, looking down at blueprints for an airship. Standing dutifully beside his boss, Campion Bond awaits instruction.

With Andrew Scott as Moriarty

and

Ralph Fiennes as Campion Bond

Revolution holds us bound

Come on down to London town

Break your back for class and crown

Come on down to London town

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen stands atop the Nautilus, Hyde being superimposed over Jekyll, and all of them stare out at the camera. Blue Heart is shown superimposed of Dexter.

Steam train running on a reckless rail

Speeding right into the rising gale

Guest Starring: Rebecca Riedy

The screen fades to black. A pair of golden eyes appear in the blackness and linger for a moment.

and

Crispin Freeman

The screen fades to black completely and fancy white text takes up the screen.

The Multiverser of the League

Shovel harder 'cause we're on your tail

London's bloody cry

(End "London Town" by Miracle of Sound)

Dexter Verser's POV

Cairo, June 1898

The opium den was far from the most glamorous place I had ever seen, but that was to be expected. There were men all over the place who were festering in their own bodily fluids. The place smelled worse than I had expected, but that's not saying much considering that I was expecting it to smell piss, shit, and all kinds of drugs, anyway.

Miss Murray had changed into something more appropriate for the atmosphere on the voyage over. She was now wearing a more simple dress and hat of dark greys and browns. Her scarf stayed, however.

"Min aldhy yuqim huna?" our guide asked in Arabic, meaning Who's staying here? Neither of us answered, so he tried again. "Min 'ant taseaa huna?" Whom are you seeking here?

"Shukraan lak ealaa musaeadatik," Miss Murray said to him in perfect Arabic. Thank you for your help.

"Ymknna 'an najid tariqatana alkhasat min huna," I added. We can find our own way from here.

The two of us walked into the opium den, abandoning our guide. The man we were looking for was not hard to find, him being the only white person other than us in the whole building.

Allan Quatermain looked about as out of it as I'd ever seen anybody. He looked far older than he was, even though he was already of an advanced age. His hair was dirty, white, and bushy, as was his beard. "Dirty" is a very appropriate word for his appearance overall, actually. What he wore essentially amounted to rags.

"Mr Quatermain?" said Miss Murray.

Quatermain managed to shift his bloodshot brown eyes open to look the two of us over lazily.

"My name is Wilhelmina Murray, and this is Mr Dexter Verser. Your country has need of you again, sir."

Quatermain slowly closed his eyes. "Go away," he said in a drawl.

"I'm sorry, Mr Quatermain, but I'm afraid we need you," I said calmly.

Miss Murray, on the other hand, seemed incredibly irritated and disappointed. "Sir, I had heard better of you," she said sharply. "Is there nothing left of what you were?"

Quatermain did not respond to either of us.

"I see," said Miss Murray. "Then may the good Lord help the Empire, sir, if there are no men finer than yourself to guard her?"

(Play "Drink Up Me Hearties Yo Ho" by Hans Zimmer)

Miss Murray was rather suddenly grabbed from behind by the man who had previously been our guide. He was joined by a fat man – both of them had looks of the most perverse nature on their faces.

"Sir? What are you doing?" Miss Murray asked in a panic. "Alnuzul!" she shouted at them in Arabic. Get off!

I walked forward, grabbed the fat man who had accompanied our former guide by his throat, lifted him up, and threw him all the way to the opposite side of the room, where he crashed into the wall and knocked several bricks loose, which then proceeded to land on him when he hit the floor. The opium den went completely silent. I looked at Miss Murray and the man grabbing her – both of them looked shocked and slightly afraid.

"'Iidha kunt la targhab fi almawti, 'awad 'an 'aqtarih 'uwnuhanidinagh liha," I said. If you don't wish to die, I would suggest unhanding her.

The man gave no arguments. He released Miss Murray and ran out of there as fast as he could manage.

"What kind of man are you?" Miss Murray asked in shock. She brought a hand up to the scarf around her neck. Knowing her history with Dracula, I decided she probably saw my feat of strength and thought I might be a vampire.

"I'm complicated," I said … only to inwardly cringe when I realised that I had just directly quoted Dorian Gray from the abominable film version of the story I was currently taking part in. I looked down at Quatermain, who was looking up at me as if he didn't quite believe what he'd seen – considering his drug-addled state, I think he may have thought it a simple hallucination. "Now, Mr Quatermain, you have two options. One: you get off your ass – I'll help you stand if you're too weak – and come back to England with us willingly. Two: I pick your ass up and drag you. It's your decision, really, but you're coming with us either way. Wouldn't you rather do so with at least a bit of dignity?"

"I'll …" Quatermain swallowed, taking a few shaky breaths. "I'll walk."

"Good man."

Quatermain struggled to stand up. I tried to help him a few times, as did Miss Murray, but he shrugged us both off. The man still had his pride, drug addict or not.

"Th-The way out's through that curtain," Quatermain said, pointing a shaky finger at a nearby curtain. He picked up a dirty brown fedora and placed it on his head just before we got moving. As we got into the bustling streets of Cairo, Quatermain got more talkative and significantly angrier. "Well, that's torn everything! For God's sake, you two, I'm a sick man. Why are you doing this to me …?"

"Murray," Miss Murray introduced herself again. "Wilhelmina Murray."

"Dexter Verser," I said. I just assumed it was the drugs that made him forget our names so quickly.

"Please be quiet, sir," Miss Murray said to Quatermain. "We have to get you to the docks."

"Docks?" Quatermain asked incredulously. "I thought you said you have connections at the Embassy?"

"I confess I may have embroidered the truth a little in that regard. However, we have a friend waiting at the waterfront."

"You're mad! I'll never make it. Even if I do, where shall I get my opium?"

"If I have my way, Mr Quatermain, you'll be off those drugs for good," I said. "It's sad to see an adventurer such as yourself fall so far. Even if you don't want to get off the drugs, though, I think you'll find that you won't need them for the next few weeks at the very least."

"I don't care," said Quatermain. By this point, we had reached the end of the docks. "I just want to go to sleep."

"No!" said Miss Murray. "You're Allan Quatermain and your country needs you! I need you … most especially because I can't see our friend the captain anywhere!"

"Apparently Nemo loves dramatic disappearances," I said.

"I don't understand!" cried Miss Murray. "He gave us his word as a gentleman that he would meet us here. S-Sir, I fear that you are right and we are all doomed."

The Arabs charging us from where we had left the opium den seemed to support her statement.

"God's teeth," Quatermain breathed out in amazement. "Miss Murray …? Mr Verser …? Forgive me, but is it the opium … or can you see that, as well?"

Quatermain's attention had been drawn by something that was very out of place in the year 1898: a submarine.

But not just any submarine.

The Nautilus.

It's probably the most uniquely designed submarine I've ever seen. It was the shape and size of a massive whale, and the front looked like one, too, being grey and metallic, but with a blowhole on top that was spraying out a torrent of water as it emerged from the ocean. The back end was shaped like a squid's head, which played into the design very well – the ship looked like a giant squid swallowing up the back end of a whale and wrapping its tentacles around its front. The eyes of the squid acted as windows. Appropriate, I think, considering Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, Captain Nemo's first appearance in literature, featured a giant squid.

There was a hissing sound as steam gathered in an upright rectangle on the part of the Nautilus directly in front of us. The sound of gears and cogs turning emanated from that same area. In a few moments, the rectangle surrounded by the steam slid downwards, revealing it to be a mechanical door. A metal platform slid out and stopped just above the dock. Out of this door stepped Captain Nemo himself, followed by a large harpoon gun.

He was a man of Indian descent with a tall blue turban and matching blue, fancy-looking clothes with golden squid tentacles decorating the sleeves and a swords scabbard at his side. He looked almost like Indian royalty as opposed to the pirate that he really was. His magnificent and dark beard was well-groomed and had a little grey in it.

(End "Drink Up Me Hearties Yo Ho" by Hans Zimmer)

"Memesahib Murray, Dexter," Captain Nemo greeted us. "Good afternoon. Please come aboard. If I must have a woman on my ship, it is preferable that she is alive, I think."

"But Captain, the mob …" Miss Murray tried to speak.

"A Mohammedan rabble," Nemo brushed her off. "Please leave them to me." He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought you could have dealt with this problem with ease, old friend."

"Well, you know me, Nemo," I said. "I don't like to make a mess. But you, I recall, don't have that problem."

"Indeed."

I walked into the Nautilus with Miss Murray and Quatermain, leaving Nemo to his business.

"How do you know him, again?" Miss Murray asked me as we walked through the metallic insides of the ship.

"Well … do you remember how Mr Bond said that the British government and I haven't always been on the same page, so to speak?" Miss Murray nodded. "One of the big ones was the time I aided India in their attempts to free themselves from British oppression. We managed to get a peace treaty out of it, as you've probably heard, but one of the stipulations of the treaty that the British came up with was the exile of some of the more … violent rebels. Nemo was one of those."

I intentionally left out that Nemo was actually the Indian prince who started the rebellion, to begin with.

"That's not a surprise," said Miss Murray dryly. She eyed my face. "You seem rather young to have been part of the Indian rebellion."

"I look rather young to have been at a lot of the events I've been part of."

"… You really are complicated, aren't you?"

"That I am, Miss Murray, that I am."

We reached a room at the end of the hallway with a relatively comfortable-looking sofa. Miss Murray and I helped Quatermain onto it, where he laid down, shaking slightly.

"There," Nemo said as he caught up with us at a brisk pace. "And how is the great colonial explorer that your Empire sent you here to salvage?"

"Rather a mess, I'm afraid …" said Miss Murray. "And I think you'll find it's our Empire, Captain."

"No," spat Nemo in disgust. "The Indian mutineers may have surrendered, but I did not. If I work with the British, it is because I no longer feel even Indian. The sea, now, is my only nation."

"Then we are both made strangers in our homelands. Exiles, like our new acquaintance here."

"I'm not exactly from anywhere in this world, either," I said. "Believe me – I know what it's like to see things that are familiar but never feel truly at home. We're all outcasts one way or another."

"P-Please," Quatermain said weakly. "I feel so sick. Need my medicine …"

"You are aboard my ship, sir," said Nemo, "and my remedies are bitter."

"Who said that?" asked Quatermain. His eyes had practically rolled into the back of his head by this point. He would have been hard to look at for most people. "Everything is slipping in and out of focus … I see you only dimly, sir. If you are real and not some opium djinn sent to torment me, tell me who you are!"

"No one," said Nemo, and he left the room.

I spent the next few minutes wondering, due to the fact that nemo is Italian for no one, whether or not Nemo's words count as a pun.

The bridge of the Nautilus was very basic, showing how Nemo had very little regard for decoration past what was necessary. There were a few paintings on the wall which aren't worth describing, just some landscape stuff. There was a small table in the middle of the room with a teapot and some mugs resting on it. Miss Murray was sitting at that table, sipping tea. I had a cup of tea in my hand as I leaned against a wall. The steering wheel of the Nautilus was by far the most unique aspect of this room – it was a carving of the Hindu god Siva, god of destruction and of the dance.

Quatermain was locked in his own room just to the side of us. There was nothing in there he could hurt himself with, the only object in there being his bed. There weren't even any lights. We trusted that he wouldn't be able to harm himself by throwing himself against the metal walls because of his weakened state making him unable to build up sufficient strength to do so. He was stark naked, showing three long, jagged scars on his chest – I think he briefly mentioned having got them from an encounter with a lion.

We had him shut in there so he could ride out his opium withdrawal without harming anything or anyone on the ship.

Miss Murray hummed. "Mr Quatermain looks somewhat less frantic than he did yesterday, don't you think?" she asked.

"He could scarcely be worse," said Nemo. "He was raving about diamond mines again during the night. He called for someone called 'Umslopogaas.'"

"He's referring to King Solomon's Mines and his dead companion," I told them. "I've read up on Quatermain before. He's been on a lot of adventures in his time, so some of it was bound to leave a mark."

"To think I grew up reading of his exploits …" said Miss Murray. She glanced at Nemo, "… just as I read of yours. Quatermain, however, was always the Empire's favourite son. You were its nightmare."

"The winning side writes the history books, Miss Murray," said Nemo bitterly. "But what of you? What of your history? Why would your British secret service place a music teacher in the company of men as dangerous as Quatermain, myself, or especially Dexter? You are not qualified …"

"She's a lot more qualified than you think, Nemo," I said. Miss Murray looked at me with wide eyes. "Oh, yes, I've read about your little situation, Miss Murray. It was a terrible ordeal and you have my sympathies. Not many could have come out of that with as high a head as you did."

"I wasn't aware that my exploits have been written down," said Miss Murray defensively.

"You wrote some of it yourself. Diary entries and news articles relevant to the events have all been compiled into one book. They paint quite a picture, too."

"I see …" Miss Murray seemingly chose not to think about it. She looked at Nemo. "How soon shall we arrive in France?"

"We have another day and night before we dock in Paris," said Nemo. "Mr Quatermain, I trust, will have successfully subdued his demons by that time."

"One hopes so," said Miss Murray. "Because if what my contact Monsieur Dupin tells me in his letters is correct … well, it would seem that Paris has sufficient demons of its own."

Paris, late June 1898

Paris in the middle of the night was, in the words of Obi-Wan Kenobi, "a wretched hive of scum and villainy," as were most cities during the nights of the later 19th Century. Drug dealers, prostitutes, potential muggers, there was no kind of scumbag who wasn't out and about when it came to the nightlife. The lights on in all the buildings contrasted against the black-blue of the night sky and gave the city an eerie, orangey tint to it. It'd make for a hell of a painting, I reflected.

"Mr Quatermain?" said Miss Murray as we stood at the arranged meeting point. "Are you unwell?"

Quatermain was dressed up in a long-coat and a casual suit yet was still shaking as though he was cold. "Of course not!" he fervently denied. "I'm … I'm just a little restless, that's all. You can hardly blame me! Pressganged into something I don't understand by my own country, and now this French dotard we're about to meet is late … Why couldn't your buccaneer friend be here instead of me?"

"From the state we found you in in Cairo, I'd have thought you'd be used to sitting around doing nothing by now," I said. "Have some patience, Quatermain, it'll do you bloody good."

"Patience!" Quatermain barked out. "You people have kept me imprisoned on that ship like an animal! I've all but run out of fucking patience!"

"All right, then, I'll rephrase: shut the fuck up and stop whining, or I'll shut you the fuck up."

Quatermain grumbled something under his breath but said no more.

"In answer to your question, Mr Quatermain," said Miss Murray, "the French authorities believe the captain dead since the 'Mysterious Island' affair fifteen years ago. It's better he remains aboard the ship …"

"It's better he remains dead!" said Quatermain. "Do you know who you're dealing with? That's Captain Nemo. Nemo the madman. Nemo the science-pirate …"

"Preferable, surely, to Quatermain the opium-sot?" said Miss Murray. "I have, you may believe me, met with many deplorable specimens of humanity, but you …"

"Madame, that's enough!" snapped Quatermain. "I pray God that all Englishwomen are not now of your manly ilk …"

"Quatermain, when we found you, you looked like a rat shit that's been dragged through a puddle of cat spunk," I said. "Now you just look like a walking rat shit in a fancy coat. Now, I'm sure Miss Murray and I will be able to ignore that quite frankly medieval attitude of yours so long as you shut the fuck up and stop whining just because a woman has bigger balls than you. All right?"

Quatermain's mouth hung open – he was gob-smacked.

Miss Murray was looking at me with some degree of what might have been approval. I'm not sure, exactly. It certainly looked positive, though.

"Ahh … Les Anglaises," said a new individual. The English. "Always the friends."

Detective Auguste Dupin was a man in his 80s with sharp blue eyes, high, thin, pointed cheekbones, and a well-groomed grey-white beard. Beneath his brown bowler hat, it was easy to tell that the top of his head was bald. He wore a dark brown overcoat and, beneath, a three-piece suit which had brown as its primary colour. As he walked near us, he tapped his cane against the ground with each step. Once he had reached us, he stood the cane up in front of him with both hands over it.

I won't lie, having the protagonist of Edgar Allen Poe's Murders in the Rue Morgue, The Mystery of Marie Roget, and The Purloined Letter, and inspiration behind Sherlock Holmes himself, stood in front of me was quite the experience.

This is the day that I learned that, despite how outrageously old I am, it's still perfectly possible to have an inner fanboy.

Quatermain hummed curiously at Dupin's appearance. "I beg your pardon?" he said.

"So you should," said Dupin. "You are very loud and disagreeable, monsieur. I am Auguste Dupin."

"The chevalier Dupin?" asked Miss Murray. "It is an honour, sir. I am Miss Murray. We've corresponded."

"Certainment," said Dupin. "You are the catspaws of Monsieur Bond, non? You call Dupin from his retirement when you need his help."

"We need the help of the best," I said. "And, to our understanding, you're the best France has to offer. I'm sorry if it's inconvenient, but I've heard a lot about you and it's all very impressive." This was me both trying to appeal to his ego and get my fanboying out in the open as calmly as possible.

"As I understood it, it was also that our interests coincided with your own," Miss Murray added.

Dupin hummed. "Well, that may be," he admitted. "An old case of mine, closed long ago, seems to have sprung open again. Your Monsieur Bond expressed an interest." He took one hand off his cane and started walking. "Come. Follow me. I'll take you to the street itself."

"Street?" Miss Murray asked in confusion as we started walking with him. "What street would that be, sir? I had believed that I was here to find a missing Englishman, a doctor …"

"What you believe, mademoiselle, is your affair. I only know what I have deduced."

"Do share," I said.

"That the murders have begun again," Dupin said gravely. "It started more than fifty years ago, here in the Quartier St. Roch. A woman and her daughter were destroyed with horrible ferocity." He stopped suddenly and stood next to the sign of the street we were about to enter – a street I had previously read about in a book starring Dupin himself: Rue Morgue. "This street here. Between the Rue Richelieu and the Rue St. Roch, in 1841. This is where it happened." He pointed at the sign with his cane as though to emphasise his point. "The older woman, Madame L'Espanye, had been almost decapitated with a razor, then hurled from that window." He pointed over at a high window on a nearby building with his cane. "Her daughter, Camille L'Espanye, had first been throttled, then thrust feet-first up a chimney. A mystery, non?"

"I-It is indeed," said Miss Murray uncomfortably. "Did you reveal the man responsible?"

"It was no man, mademoiselle," said Dupin. "It was an ape, an orangutan escaped from the sailor that had owned it. Such was my deduction. And yet …"

"It's happened again," I said.

"Oui, monsieur," Dupin confirmed. "Two months ago, a local prostitute named Anna Coupeau was discovered with her neck snapped. Other murders followed, each displaying the same praetor-human strength. All the victims were prostitutes."

"How like London's still-uncaptured Whitechapel Fiend from ten years ago," Miss Murray observed. "Perhaps the missing doctor we're seeking is …?"

"No," Dupin denied immediately. "Again, this is no man. An ape-like figure was reported fleeing the murder scenes."

"So much for no monkey business," I quipped. The strange looks aimed at me by all three of my travelling companions reminded me that the phrase "monkey business" probably didn't exist yet. "Never mind, just ignore me."

"… Your role in the earlier cases led you to this one?" Miss Murray asked Dupin.

"Partly," said Dupin. "Also, I … I knew Anna Coupeau. 'Nana,' they called her. She'd led a hard life. She did not deserve such treatment."

"No woman does," said Miss Murray.

"I don't know about that," I said. "I've met almost as many evil women in my time as I have evil men. While I don't really approve of murder, I can see why people might think they're, well … let's say 'execution bait' and leave it at that, eh?"

"Do you ever shut up?" Quatermain asked me.

"Not if I can help it."

"It seems there's nothing for it," said Miss Murray. "I must set myself as bait. Monsieur Dupin? How might I pass myself off as a demimondaine?"

"There," said Miss Murray after she had changed. "How do I look?"

She had changed out of her fancy blue dress and into a hot pink thing with no straps or sleeves that only came up high enough to cover her nipples, leaving the rest of her cleavage exposed. It also came with a pair of black gloves with white frilly ends that came up to halfway up the top half of her arms. It also came with a very wide-brimmed grey hat.

I still don't understand why women's fashion in the 19th Century always included hats.

"If I didn't consider myself just a bit too classy to pay for sex, I'd certainly be tempted to approach you in the streets," I said in hopes that it would be taken as a compliment.

She seemed satisfied that she looked the part, though she didn't give any verbal response to my comment.

"That scarf, though," said Dupin. "It's too much. You should take it off."

"Absolutely not," Miss Murray said defensively. "Now, I shall loiter near the gas-fixture directly opposite. You gentlemen may observe from either end of the street, blocking our quarry's escape."

"But we don't even know who we're looking for!" Quatermain argued.

"An ape-like figure, didn't the chevalier say?" Miss Murray reminded him. "Even you should have no trouble spotting him."

"She is right," said Dupin. "Go take up your position on that corner, while I occupy my own. Watch carefully, now."

"I, on the other hand, have an entirely different vantage point in mind," I said, walking over to a nearby building.

"Where would that be?" asked Dupin.

"A bird's eye view."

With that, I utilised my wall-crawling abilities that came from taking on the role of Peter Parker/Spider-Man in another universe and scaled up the wall rapidly. I didn't have to look down to know that the other three were gawking up at me as I did this. Once I had reached the roof of the building, I turned around and sat down with my legs dangling over the edge. I then pulled a Thermos full of steaming hot tea out of my coat pocket (incorporating Time Lord technology into one's clothes is a very useful practice) and sat there sipping at it as I looked down upon Miss Murray's spot on the street below.

Quatermain and Dupin went to opposite ends of the street, Dupin looking the opposite way for anybody who might be approaching, and Quatermain watching Miss Murray.

Quatermain soon grew bored of watching Miss Murray and walked into a nearby pharmacy.

Drug-addled idiot, I thought, then felt a tad hypocritical. While I wasn't one to take hardcore drugs, I wasn't opposed to smoking a little bit of weed every now and again. That, and the rampant smoking addiction I had picked up when I took in Roland Deschain as a mental room-mate meant that I had my fair share of vices, even if they weren't quite as severe as Quatermain's own.

It wasn't long after Quatermain had gone into the pharmacy that I saw Miss Murray being approached by the man we had come to France looking for: Dr Henry Jekyll. He was wearing a suit that I really hoped wasn't expensive because his transformation into Edward Hyde was going to completely ruin it in a few minutes. Jekyll was a thin, severe-looking man with a vaguely square face that might have once been handsome but now was pale and sickly. He had a small crop of black hair on the top of his head that was swept to the right side.

I didn't pay any attention to the conversation Miss Murray had with Jekyll, knowing that I just had to follow them to wherever Jekyll was staying and then take on Hyde.

As the two of them started walking, I started moving across the rooftops of Paris, utilising parkour skills that had been perfected over too many years of practice to count. Occasionally, I saw Miss Murray glancing around, her eyes sometimes roaming up to the rooftops. Whenever our eyes met, I sent her a little nod to let her know that I was still with them and that I wouldn't let any harm come to her. She probably wasn't particularly scared, though, considering how thin and weak Jekyll looked.

The hotel Jekyll led Miss Murray too looked inexpensive but well-maintained. I waited until he had taken her inside, then jumped down from the building I was stood on, landing in a crouch with little more than a light tap sound as I landed. I waited for a few moments, then entered the hotel.

The inside matched the outside in that it looked inexpensive and seedy, but the people running it at the very least put some effort into making it look presentable.

I had little time to admire the decor, however, as it wasn't long before I heard Miss Murray release a scream of shock and horror. The moment I heard it, I leapt into action, running up the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reached the floor Miss Murray had screamed from. I heard Quatermain and Dupin entering the building, but paid them little mind. Miss Murray was on the floor outside of one of the rooms. The left side of her face was bleeding a bit, like she had been struck, and a small portion of her dress had been ripped.

The exposed skin was putting some strain on the more lustful aspects of my being, I'll admit.

I looked into the room, which was open. It was pitch black in there, but I could see just fine. I heard Quatermain and Dupin coming up the stairs behind us.

"I say!" Quatermain exclaimed in shock. "What happened?"

I leaned down toward Miss Murray and rubbed the cut on her face lightly – she flinched a bit, but otherwise, it didn't seem much damage had been done.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Y-Yes," she said. "I thought I could handle him, and then …"

"It's fine." I stood up, walked forward, and glared into the room. "Mr Hyde! Get your ass out here!"

(Play "The Master Suite" by Murray Gold)

I was in a slightly worse mood than I normally would have been. Hitting someone who was much weaker than you with no provocation was something you didn't want to do when I was around, not if you didn't want an ass-kicking.

A sudden whack to my chest sent me skidding back slightly, but only slightly. I've taken far worse hits than that. I saw that the thing that had hit me was an oversized cane being held by the oversized hand of Mr Edward Hyde. Jekyll's formula had certainly taken him back a step or two on the evolutionary scale. Hyde looked like a massive red ape with glistening, sharpened teeth, and beady black dots for pupils while the entire rest of his eyes were a sickly yellow. The suit that had fit so well on Jekyll was now ripped open and ruined, exposing Hyde's muscular chest.

"What is it?" he asked. His voice sounded incredibly menacing and angry. "What d'you want with your old pal Eddie Hyde?"

"After what you did to Miss Murray, I really want to punch you out," I said. "Would you like to get started?"

Hyde released an inhuman roar, and then …

BLAM!

The gunshot came from Dupin's pepper-box revolver. The pepper-box revolver has never been a gun well-suited toward accuracy, mostly thanks to the fact that one trigger pull could unload anywhere from one to all of the loaded chambers, so it wasn't particularly surprising when it missed Hyde's head almost entirely. The key word here being "almost." It did, in fact, succeed in ripping apart Hyde's left ear, which the beast very nearly didn't acknowledge.

He was silent for a moment as the remains of his ear fell away.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT!" Hyde bellowed.

"You couldn't have just let me handle it, could you?" I asked Dupin as Hyde made to charge forward.

I charged forward and met Hyde in the middle, delivering a solid punch to his chest. He skidded backwards and into the flat he had initially emerged from. He looked at me with wide eyes, having clearly not expected this.

Then he wore a feral grin.

I think the prospect of having an actual fight excited him.

He tried to charge again, but I wanted to get this other with quickly. This time, when I charged, I instead shoulder-barged him, pushing him across the room and to a large window through which moonlight was pouring. I brought myself to a stop there and the sudden loss of momentum had Hyde reeling, struggling to keep himself on his feet. I then brought my leg up and delivered a hard kick to Hyde's chest, sending him flying backwards and out the window.

(End "The Master Suite" by Murray Gold)

CRACK!

That was the sound of Hyde impacting and cracking the pavement beneath the building.

I looked out of the window and down at Hyde and saw that he was still moving. Knowing that he would be less than agreeable if he was still conscious, I jumped down after him, landing softly on his chest.

"Sorry, Dr Jekyll, you're gonna have a cracking headache when you wake up," I said.

Then I delivered a hard punch directly to Hyde's face. His head snapped backwards and impacted the pavement, cracking it even more. I had successfully knocked him out.

"Mon Dieu," gasped Dupin, who was looking down at Hyde and me from the window I had just jumped through. My God. "What a horror. Have you killed it?"

"Nope," I said. "The good doctor's gonna wake up in a few hours with a pounding headache, but that's about it. Do you lot want to get down here, or would you rather squat in his flat for a bit? I'm sure Quatermain would like some privacy when he drinks his laudanum."

"H-How did you—?"

"I have very good eyes, Quatermain."

"Laudanum?" Miss Murray said in disgust and disappointment. "We shall have words about this later, Mr Quatermain."

I stopped paying attention to their voices as they left the flat and started walking down the stairs. I kept my eyes on Hyde the entire time I waited for the others to arrive, not knowing whether my punch would keep him out for as long as I thought it would. I'm normally very confident in my abilities, but Hyde was a resilient bastard, so I didn't think I could risk being too confident.

"How much damage has this brute sustained?" Miss Murray asked me when they came out of the building.

"Not much," I said. "I punched him in the head really hard, so there may well be some damage to the skull, but not much else. We do need Dr Jekyll alive, right?"

"Dr Jekyll?" asked Quatermain in confusion. "But didn't you call him Mr Hyde before?"

"It's a very long story," I said. "The short version is that Dr Jekyll occasionally transforms into this thing. It used to only happen when he drank a formula he invented, but I'm not sure now … Did he drink anything before he changed?" I asked Miss Murray.

"I don't think so," she said. "Monsieur Dupin, we need to get it to the waterfront."

"I know people here," said Dupin. "I'll find us a cart."

"No need for that," I said. I grabbed the back of Hyde's torn short and started walking, pulling Hyde's hulk-like body along the ground behind me with ease. It took a few moments to fully realise that I wasn't being followed by the others. I glanced back to see that they were all looking at me with varying expressions of disbelief and confusion. This amused me – an amusement I'm sure was dancing in my eyes even as my face remained passive. "You lot want to get a fucking move on, or should I tell Nemo we're leaving without you?"

"… What the hell are you?" Quatermain asked in wonder. He took a brief, concerned glance at the bottle in his hand.

"I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere~" I sang out. "Who ya gonna call~? Your best friend Dexter~" They all just stared awkwardly. I coughed into my hand. "Sorry, but I've always wanted an excuse to sing that. For now, let's just say that I'm a lot older and a lot stronger than I look. You'll probably find out more once we've got the whole team assembled. I prefer not to waste time, though."

"Je suis trop vieux pour cette merde," Dupin muttered under his breath. I'm too old for this shit.

"Et encore nulle part près aussi vieux que moi," I said to him. And still nowhere near as old as me. I glanced back and looked at Quatermain seriously. "Oh, and Quatermain: you ever endanger anyone's life to feed your drug habit again, I'll show you a real reason to need a medicinal painkiller. Understand?"

The man nodded weakly.

It was such a shame to see such a great adventurer brought to a low like this. I would have to fix that. The thing about using the Nautilus to travel was that it took time, time that I could spend interacting with the League members. Maybe I could even help some of them.

Except for Griffin. FUCK Griffin.

Once we had reached the docks again, the Nautilus was there waiting for us with Nemo stood atop it. I suppose Nemo decided that pulling a disappearing act to add to the dramatic tension had made things less than convenient for us in Egypt. As badass as the Nautilus is, I couldn't help missing Iona. Not just because I'm married to her, but because she's my ship. There's a reason they say the captain always goes down with the ship and now I knew why – the attachment a man feels to his own ship is truly something to behold. The fact that Iona is sentient probably only added to the feeling.

"My God," Dupin said in wonder as he took his first (and probably only) look at the Nautilus as it sat docked. "That is the Nautilus, non? I never thought that I might live to see it."

"You recognised it quickly, sir," Miss Murray noted. "Your knowledge is indeed compendious."

"What I don't know, I can deduce," said Dupin. "That turbanned gentleman, for instance, that is Captain Nemo, yes? And 'Murray' is merely your maiden name, correct?"

"I … I am divorced, and have resumed my maiden name. There were certain events …"

"Last year, in England. Yes. I know. I read a lot. Goodbye, mademoiselle." He gently took her gloved right hand and kissed it. "You're very brave. I hope we meet again."

"If we find ourselves in Paris again, we'll be sure to look you up," I told him. I admit I was a little overeager to get back on the Nautilus so that I could commence with my own personal brand of psychiatry. In all my years of life, few things have consistently brought me pleasure. Tea is one, sex is another, but the main one is being able to help people with their mental traumas. There's a reason they call me the Aspect of the Psyche. "For now, however, I'm afraid we must depart. Can I just say, though, for the record, Detective Dupin, that I'm a huge fan of your work. I've read about a few of your cases. It's astounding stuff, really. I'm sure Sherlock Holmes himself would be pleased to meet you."

"Oh … well, merci, Mr Verser," said Dupin. He looked a bit taken aback by my sudden barrage of fanboyism.

Well, I was about to leave, so excuse me for wanting to get it all out of my system.

We all stepped aboard the Nautilus, leaving Dupin to stare in wonder as the ship submerged beneath the waves.

I thought it would be best to start trying to get on good terms with Quatermain. Jekyll was still recovering from his most recent transformation and Nemo wasn't really in need of help, he was just bitter and angry, and quite rightfully so, too. Miss Murray would be the easiest, I think, as we were already on at the very least cordial terms, if not friendly ones. It seemed logical to me that I should start with the bigger problem.

When I found Quatermain, he was just sort of loitering around the ship. He was now dressed in a white jumper and a baggy pair of jeans. He still didn't look great, mind you, but at least he didn't look like he was dying anymore.

"Hello, Quatermain," I greeted him.

He looked at me with a hint of nervousness. "Er, hello, Mr Verser," he said.

"Dexter, please. Or Dex. Whichever you prefer, really. Mr Verser is reserved for people I either don't like or are really fucking stingy about formality."

Quatermain started looking confused. "I was under the impression you don't like me."

"I don't like your drug habits," I corrected. "I haven't really got an opinion on you yet. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to a bit of the old whacky backy every now and again, but certainly not while I'm on the job. It's more something I do when I'm alone and I need to relax, you know?"

"Whacky backy …?"

"Marijuana, cannabis, weed, shit that one smokes to get high."

"Oh."

"Certainly nothing as strong or harmful as opium." I sighed. "Look, Quatermain, we're going to be working together pretty soon. I want us to be friends, or at the very least not at each other's throats. Even more than that, I want to help you."

"Help me?" Quatermain started to look genuinely angry now. "What on Earth makes you think I need any help from you?"

"You weren't sitting around, shaking and underweight in a drug den because you've got your whole life figured out, mate. What happened to you, Quatermain? How did you go from the man who found King Solomon's Mines to a drug addict in Cairo?"

"Why do you want to know!?"

"I'm trying to help y—"

"Help me!? All right, then, sonny, let's get something straight: I don't give a damn how strong or old you are, my business is my business and none of yours! Stay the hell out of things you don't understand!"

He stalked off to somewhere else on the ship.

It wasn't an ideal conversation, but the first one rarely was. I've seen this more times than I can count. People will rarely admit they have any kind of problem, and anyone who suggests that they do is greeted by nothing but anger and dismissal. Cliché as it may be, it's true that the first step to solving one's problem is admitting one has a problem. Quatermain likely hadn't had anybody talk to him about his opium addiction at all, ever since he started taking the stuff, so it was left to me to get him to take a good, hard look at himself.

Then I could start helping him properly.

I came across Miss Murray on the bridge. I was surprised to find that she was alone, thinking that Nemo probably would have been in there, too. The fact that Miss Murray was in there alone provided me with a unique opportunity, however.

She turned her head in my direction as I walked in. "Mr Verser," she greeted cordially.

"Miss Murray," I greeted in return. "Odd to see you on the bridge alone. Where's Nemo?"

"Dr Jekyll was rather upset to find that he's missing an ear. Captain Nemo is sewing up the wound for him … He certainly wasn't happy about it, though." She pierced me with an accusing look. "You seemed to know of his transformation – Hyde, didn't you call it? How did you know of it? All Mr Bond told me was that we were searching for a wayward doctor who might be hiding in France."

"The same way I know about all the people here: reading. You'd be surprised how many true events have been documented in books. I think the only reason you haven't read it, Miss Murray, is that you seem to have stuck to reading about the world-changing individuals such as Quatermain and Nemo. Dr Jekyll's story, however, is documented in a book entitled The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Christ, there's probably a book about me at this point that I'm just unaware of."

"I suppose that answers one question. Why did you not mention it?"

"Honestly? I was under the impression Mr Bond had told you. I mean, why wouldn't he? It seems like a really stupid thing to do, sending you in without giving you all the information."

Miss Murray sighed. "Well, isn't that spectacular? A pirate, a drug addict, and a changeling … Clearly, Mr Bond thinks very highly of me to put me in such company." The sarcasm in her tone was unmistakable.

"It's not all bad," I tried to comfort. "Nemo may have some … unsavoury practices, but he's a hell of a captain and a hell of a warrior. Drug-addled as Quatermain may be, there's a reason he's famous for his adventuring. And if that's not comforting, well …" I shrugged. "There's always me. I'm not that bad, am I?"

"… I suppose not," she said. "But you are a mystery. Yet you seem to know an awful lot about me and my … misadventure. Seems awful rude, doesn't it? Keeping secrets from a lady when you seem to know all of her own."

I chuckled a bit. "You're probably right," I said. "But … my philosophy has always been that the past doesn't matter. What matters is here and now, and this is me. I know about you, but I don't base my expectations based on what happened between you and the fucking vampire. And neither should you. The scarf is to hide the fang marks, right?" She instinctively brought her hand up to the red scarf around her throat. "I think – and forgive me if I'm being presumptuous or inappropriate – that it's like a mask for you, something you hide your past behind because you don't want people to define you by it. People see the scars and all they see is a woman who's been attacked, and possibly even dirtied, by a monster. But do you want to know what I see?"

"… Yes." Her voice came out weaker than I had ever heard it, showing a vulnerability I had not yet seen in her. The words I was speaking were hitting home.

"I see a woman who survived. You were targeted by a monster, it attacked you, and you survived. And I can guarantee that, if you were to remove that scarf, I would see those scars as nothing but proof of your strength. You are a strong person, Miss Murray. Only an idiot wouldn't see it. Now, you looked like you'd rather be alone, so I'll be taking my leave now."

I made to leave the bridge, and then …

"Mina," she said. "Please … call me Mina."

I turned back to her briefly. "All right, Mina," I said. "Please, call me Dexter."

Then I left.

When we docked back in England, the warm yet still somehow moist weather gave me a feeling of nostalgia. It's genuinely astounding how few reasons I've had to return to England in all the years since I died and was granted my powers. Docking in Dover again still left a bad taste in my mouth, however, as I knew that meant we would be recruiting the only member of the League I can honestly say I despise.

I had already decided on killing him when his contributions to the plot came to an end.

"Miss Murray, Mr Verser," said Campion Bond as we got off the Nautilus, "welcome back to dear old Blighty. I see you succeeded in locating poor old Allan Quatermain and our alarming little doctor friend. My employer, Mr M, is more than pleased. You really have done awfully well."

"In six weeks, Mr Bond, I have been almost killed on two occasions," said Mina.

"A bit of an exaggeration," I muttered.

Mina passed a small, half-hearted glare at me. Then he looked back at Bond. "If this affords delight to your monogrammatic superior, Mr Mycroft Holmes, then I am, you may be sure, immensely comforted."

You only wish M was Mycroft, I thought. The fact that I had to play along and pretend that I was being played by Moriarty like the rest of the team was annoyed the absolute fuck out of me. I was still thinking about what to do with him once we had retrieved the anti-gravity mineral that he wants us to get. Bond was easy – he was just a pawn, so a humiliation and a public outing of his traitorous deeds would be more than enough. But Moriarty … he was a different story.

"A waspish tongue, Miss Murray, is to my mind but one of the many unattractive features of the modern suffragette," said Bond.

"I can't wait to get to the twenty-first century …" I said to myself.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it."

Bond cleared his throat and looked to the man he was with. "Inspector Donovan? If you and your men will attend to their companions, Miss Murray, Mr Verser, and I have matters to discuss."

"Right you are, sir," said Donovan, offering a salute. He and the officers with him walked past us and toward Nemo, Quatermain, and Jekyll.

"Don't be concerned," Bond said to us. "Your friends will be in safe hands with Inspector Donovan. Splendid chap. Solved the Hetty Duncan murder single-handedly, don't you know? Oh, by the way, let's not have any more loose speculation as to Mr M's identity. It isn't your concern."

"Even when I'm risking my life for him?" asked Mina.

"These are dangerous times for everyone, Miss Murray. Since the great detective's death seven years ago, the Empire's enemies have seized their opportunity. Don't you read the papers? Robur, master of the air, has issued vague threats from his hidden stronghold. Prime Minister Plantaganet Palliser is responding in the house today. Then, of course, the astronomer Lavell has noticed bursts of incandescent gas from Mars … Oh, and you may read the Reverend Septimus Harding's attack upon the so-called miracles at Miss Coote's school in Edmonton."

"Having been confined within a submarine, I've read very little," said Mina. "What 'miracles' would these be?"

The 'miracle' of invisible rape, I thought in growing anger. Griffin, you son of a bitch, you'll get yours eventually. Whether I let Hyde fuck you to death or I kill you myself, your invisible ass is going to be six feet under the second the plot doesn't require your presence anymore.

Luckily, I'm very good at concealing my emotions … mostly because I'm not very good at expressing them, but still, it was still a good thing in this context. Me appearing so angry so suddenly would raise a few questions.

"That of the immaculate conception," said Bond. "Of impregnation by the Holy Spirit … and on this occasion, it would seem the Holy Spirit has outdone Itself. These are three schoolgirls at Miss Coote's somewhat disreputable academy who, though virgins, find themselves in, shall we say, a somewhat delicate condition."

"How does this concern us?" asked Mina.

"He wants us to look into it," I said. "Don't you, Mr Bond?"

"Quite," said Bond. "I suspect that it concerns the next man that we need you to recruit for our parade of curiosities. I have his dossier for you here." He pulled a file out of his coat. "A former student at the University of London, supposedly deceased last year. His name was Hawley Griffin. He …" Bond looked at Mina, who was looking, disturbed, at a nearby building. "Miss Murray? Are you listening?"

The sign on the building she was looking at read:

PROSPECT

WHITBY

Whitby, I recall, is where most of the action takes place in Dracula. Mina probably had some very bad memories of the place.

Hoping I would not come across as too presumptuous or familiar in doing so, I placed a hand lightly on Mina's shoulder in an attempt at comfort. She whipped her head around and looked as though she was about to start trying to shake me off, but when she saw it was me (I think she may have thought the hand belonged to Bond), she calmed down. It was nice to know that I was already at least some source of comfort.

"Forgive me, sir," Mina said to Bond. "I was distracted for a moment by my memories. The name of that establishment across the street …"

"I've heard it's an outstanding inn," said Bond in confusion. "What is it that disturbs you about …? Ah, of course. Nasty associations, eh? No matter. Let's rejoin your crewmates. And be assured that whatever you and your comrades find in Edmonton could not compare with what was found in … in that other place. Not really. Come. Our way is back down here."

We started walking back the way we came.

"So, we're going after the Invisible Man, are we?" I asked Bond suddenly.

Bond sputtered over his words for a few moments. "Y-You've heard the tale?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. I've also heard that Griffin is a madman. I've encountered some odd people in my past ventures into these little groups, but M is the first to include an invisible lunatic in the team. Things must be dire."

"All will be explained," Bond said curtly.

"I'm sure it will."

I noticed that Mina was eyeing me with a raised eyebrow, so I mouthed "I'll explain on the ship." She seemed to accept that and we kept walking in silence.

Mina, Nemo, Quatermain, and I sat around the bridge of the Nautilus to discuss our latest quarry.

"Well?" asked Nemo. "Do we have any idea what sort of horror this Bond chap is getting us to capture this time?"

"Dexter assured me he'd tell us when we got back to the ship," said Mina. She looked at me. "What did you call this man? The Invisible Man?"

"Indeed," I said. "Hawley Griffin was a brilliant but mad scientist once upon a time. He worked his ass off for years trying to come up with a formula to attain invisibility. Well, actually, he may have been trying to achieve something else, but invisibility is what he got. He caused quite a fuss down in Sussex about a year ago, went around terrorising the locals and that, before apparently being killed by a mob. But there's a problem."

"The body of the man they killed was an albino," said Mina, reading the file. "But Griffin is no albino. Correct?"

"Yes. It's assumed that the albino man was a test subject that Griffin used as a decoy while he made his escape. If what Bond suspects is true, then … well, these 'miracles' are a hell of a lot less divine than they've being made out to be."

"The three of us will go tomorrow and investigate," said Mina.

"What about Jekyll?" asked Nemo.

"Jekyll's being taken from us for some tests," said Mina. "It's hoped that sedatives might ease his strange condition …"

"… Or control it. Mr Bond is no philanthropist, I fear … I fear he collects monsters."

"How are we to investigate?" asked Quatermain.

"You and I are going to pose as husband and wife," said Mina. "While Captain Nemo poses as our manservant. We are to go to the school under the guise of inspecting the place to possibly send our daughter. Dexter here will make himself out to be our daughter … though I'm still not quite sure how. Do not get me wrong, Dexter, but despite your … unique appearance, I'm certain the girls will see through you after spending enough time in your presence."

"No need to worry about that," I said. "I think you'll find that this little trick of mine will make me very convincing."

As I transformed, the others widened their eyes and I'm genuinely surprised none of them thought they were going insane.

"There's something very wrong with you," Quatermain said once my transformation was complete.

Third Person POV

Edmonton, North London, 3 July 1898

Miss Rosa Coote's Correctional Academy for Wayward Gentlewomen certainly wasn't making any efforts to hide what it was, which is somewhat commendable, though it does call to mind the question of who in their right mind would send their daughter to a school like this. The white area around the door to the building was in the shape of a giant hand with five little windows that resemble fingernails, and the part of the roof which this connects to looks like, there is no other word for it, a gigantic peach-coloured ass. The rest of the building looked semi-normal, but the entrance told you exactly what was going to happen to any girl who went in: a good spanking.

This fact didn't bother Blue Heart at all. In fact, the only negativity she felt was regarding the fact that she wouldn't be able to stay and be a part of that particular practice.

Blue Heart, while normally appearing to be in her mid-twenties, had edited her appearance a bit for the occasion, and now she looked to be around seventeen or so. Her long, dark blue hair still held its divine waviness, and her eyes were still the same red – she would have to explain the power symbols in her eyes as some sort of condition. Her skin was creamy and smooth. The tight black Victorian dress she had to wear to fit in didn't have the usual desired effect of such dresses, which was to keep her womanly beauty covered up. Her large, G-cup breasts were pushing so hard against the material of the dress that she swore it was about to burst off, and her plump ass made the back of the dress stick out.

She was as beautiful and appealing as always.

It was just too bad that the dress was so damn uncomfortable.

"Mina, how the hell do you wear these things?" she asked as they rode toward the school in the horse-pulled carriage. "I feel like a giant silk-worm's cocooned me in preparation to eat me later."

"Don't exaggerate," said Mina. "I understand that you're not used to it, but it can't be that bad."

"I just wish I could wrap my head around this," said Quatermain. He looked at Blue Heart. "You are just … just … impossible."

"You'll likely get used to that," said Nemo. "While this is the first time Dexter has done something quite so … transformative, he's done enough impossible things since I've known him that I've grown used to such occurrences."

The carriage soon pulled to a stop and they got out.

They were promptly greeted by Miss Coote. Blue Heart became confused about just how Miss Coote remained standing with how disproportionate her body was. She wore a purple dress which hugged her body tightly. Her breasts were so massive it was ridiculous, and her waist was so thin that she probably should have snapped in half years ago. She was reminiscent of a less-attractive Jessica Rabbit, except not a cartoon. Her skin was white – not pale, white. Every single facial feature was narrow and sharp – her eyes, her nose, her chin, even her smile – and she had pitch black hair that she kept tied in a tight bun. She had a small mole just above her right cheek and she wore blood red lipstick. She also had a choker around her thin neck.

The second they were out of the carriage, Miss Coote grabbed Mina by the waist with one hand and under the chin with the other. "Ah!" she said. "You will be Mrs Murray … and what a firm, womanly figure you present! I am Rosa Belinda Coote."

"Charmed," Mina said a little weakly, clearly taken aback by the woman's manner. "This is my, uh, husband, Mr Murray, and our … our daughter Alisha … and this is our manservant."

"Oh, so this is the daughter you plan to lodge here." Miss Coote moved over to Blue Heart and got as uncomfortably close to her as she did to Mina. She grabbed her by the chin and tilted her face from side to side whilst also rubbing her other hand along the side of her body. "Hmm … A gorgeous face, a spectacularly womanly body, smooth skin … You have a very beautiful daughter, Mr and Mrs Murray. She would fit in very well here. So, you wish to inspect the place? Quite understandable, though I assure you I've maintained the same exacting standards as my predecessor, Miss Flaybum."

She started to lead them through the school.

"I … I'm sure you have …" said Mina. "Although there has, of course, been mention lately of the school …"

"Ah! You mean our three immaculate conceptions! Isn't it thrilling? It attracts so much attention here, we're obliged to decorate!"

Miss Coote gestured grandly at a new-looking statue of a lady centaur who didn't have a scrap of clothing on her. The white stone was carved with great care. The breasts on the statue were incredibly large. It was also holding a sword, so at least there seemed to be some effort into making it more than just stone porn.

Quatermain and Nemo, both of whom were keeping as far behind as possible, started talking in hushed tones.

"This is insufferable!" Nemo hissed. "To play the manservant, like some low-caste *punkah-wallah …"

"You think I like playing that harpy's husband any better?" Quatermain asked him.

Neither of the men could see it, but Blue Heart heard that comment and frowned.

"We must suffer it as best we can and think of England," Quatermain finished.

Blue Heart smirked at the small innuendo in those words.

"It must disrupt your routine, having the decorators here?" said Mina.

"Oh, we don't let it!" said Miss Coote. "You see, here at Coote's we rather pride ourselves upon our discipline. Strictness and discipline, Miss Murray …" she stopped by the door to a classroom, "… that's the key to everything!"

Inside the classroom were a teacher and two students. One of the students was entirely naked on her bottom half and bent over a table. The teacher was repeatedly smacking her ass with a cane – her ass looked red-raw. The other student was holding the girl's arms to the table so that she couldn't just get up.

"Take that, Olive Chancellor, you willful girl!" said the teacher as she delivered another hard smack. "And that! We'll soon thrash your independent American ways out of you!"

"Ahhh!" the girl, Olive, cried out. "Mercy, Miss Carr! I am dying! Aah!"

Blue Heart's face went red. Cruel as the punishment may have been, she couldn't help but feel just a bit aroused by the sight.

"Um …" said Mina as they passed by the classroom. "Wasn't that teacher being awfully harsh?"

"Oh, that's Katy … our Miss Carr," said Miss Coote. "She's a great believer in 'the school of pain.' Frankly, sometimes we don't know what she's going to do next!"

Sounds like a bit of a psycho to me, thought Blue Heart.

"I see," said Mina. "And these supposed visitations from the Holy Spirit? Are they equally unpredictable?"

"Well, you'd have to ask one of our little mothers …" They walked around a corner and came across a blonde student who was quite visibly (ironically) pregnant. "… Like Miss Randall of Riverboro, Maine, over there." She led them over to the girl, who looked positively delighted with life. "Miss Randall, meet Mrs Murray. She's here to make sure this school is suitable for her daughter. Your experience has aroused her interest."

"It was the durnedest thing, ma'am," said Miss Randall. "The Holy Spirit just sorta entered into me. If it's a girl, I'm namin' it Becky, like me." She looked at Blue Heart. "If you're real lucky, the Holy Spirit might visit you, too."

Blue Heart shuddered at the thought of Griffin coming anywhere near her with such intentions.

They moved on.

"You see?" Miss Coote asked. "Perfectly serene about the whole affair … even if she was a little hysterical at the time. Come. Since you asked to stop over at the school, I'll show you the guest rooms." She glanced back at Blue Heart and smiled widely. "Except for you, my dear. You'll be bunking with the other girls for the night. If you're going to attend here, you might as well get to know them early on."

Oh, joy, Blue Heart thought to herself. But aloud she said: "I'd quite like that, madam."

"Excellent."

Blue Heart didn't particularly like being in the senior dormitory room. The school had really done a number on all these girls. They were just so … so placid. In any other school, there likely would have been hushed whispers and giggling; not that the idea of such disruptions to sleep had any particular attraction to it, it was simply that this uniform quiet was slightly unsettling.

She wasn't here to sleep, anyway. She had the Invisible Cunt to trap.

That in mind, Blue Heart switched her eyes to infrared vision so that she could see everyone's heat signatures. It looked very normal at first, but …

There he is, Blue Heart thought, narrowing her eyes on a heat signature from a distinctly masculine body. What was worse was the fact that he was quite clearly naked … and coming straight toward her. Oh, just fucking TRY it!

The second he was within touching distance, she grabbed his arm and flipped him over onto the floor.

"Ah!" came the startled yell of surprise from Hawley Griffin. "What in the hell!?"

"You'll be down there soon enough, I promise," Blue Heart said coldly. She raised her foot. "For now … sleep."

She brought her foot down on his head as hard as she could without killing him. He gave one brief yell of pain and fell unconscious.

Blue Heart noticed that she was being stared at by all the other girls. "Sorry, ladies, I was just taking out some rubbish," she said. She grabbed Griffin by one of his legs and started to drag him out of the room. "I'm not so sorry to say that I won't be joining you for the rest of the night, or ever again for that matter. I appreciate a good spanking as much as the next woman, but good God, girls, show some assertion. This place is run like a bloody brothel."

She left the room and walked down the hallway. Halfway down, she took a can of paint from where one of the decorators had left it and splashed it all over Griffin's unconscious form, rendering him visible to the naked eye. Then she carried on dragging him.

Blue Heart stopped by a door and knocked.

Mina opened it a few moments later.

"Evening, 'mother,'" Blue Heart said playfully. "I've found the man we came for."

Mina looked down at Griffin's paint-covered form and her eyes widened a fraction. "So it would seem," she said.

"I think that if we rush off now, we should be able to avoid talking to the headmistress again."

Mina now looked downright eager. "Right, well, we'd better get a move on, then."

Dexter Verser's POV

The British Museum, Bloomsbury, London, 5 July 1898

Having a secret area in a place as constantly tourist-filled as the British Museum has always struck me as being a rather stupid idea. But, I do have to admit, seeing some of the things on display in this area was pretty amazing, even by Multiverser standards. There was a display about the goddess Ayesha (one which Quatermain was paying a lot of attention to, which is understandable given that he encountered her in the book She and Allan), the skull of a Yahoo, a Brobdingnagian, and some stuffed Lilliputians (all of which are from Gulliver's Travels). There was more, but they were too numerous to describe.

"Well?" asked Bond. "How do you like your new headquarters here in the Secret Annexe, Miss Murray?"

"It seems comfortable enough," said Mina. "Mr Bond, when is Henry Jekyll to be returned to us? And what of the fiend Dexter caught in Edmonton?"

"Why, they're both here already. We have them safe in observation chambers, fitted with a two-way looking glass. You can see them if you wish …" He walked us over to a long window. "Here, for example, is your Edmonton discovery." Griffin was in the room we were looking into. He looked like just a floating dressing gown with lounge pants and slippers. There was a cup of tea in his lap and a cigarette in his invisible hand. "His name is Hawley Griffin, as Mr Verser has no doubt told you. He made himself invisible last year. He'd also secretly made a halfwit albino man invisible first, as a guinea pig. It was the albino man who was subsequently kicked to death by an enraged West Sussex mob, mistaken for Griffin."

We carried on walking.

"Griffin, meanwhile, fled to Edmonton and made himself very comfortable in Miss Coote's school. Inspector Donovan questioned him earlier. He thinks Griffin will cooperate with us in return for a pardon and a possible cure for his condition."

"What of Jekyll?" asked Nemo. "He did not seem an evil man …"

We stopped outside another window. Inside, Inspector Donovan was sitting on one side of an interrogation table, and on the other side sat Hyde, who was chained up with restraints connecting his neck and his hands.

"Oh, Dr Henry Jekyll is a highly moral individual, you may be sure," said Bond. "Mr Edward Hyde, on the other hand, is very different."

"Sir, I'm going to ask you again," Donovan said to Hyde. "If we were able to affect a cure for your condition …"

"A cure?" roared Hyde. "You'll cure me, will you, like a wart on Jekyll's arse? Why, you self-important little turd! Unfasten these confounded straps. I'll snap your neck in two!"

"That would hardly be wise of me, would it, sir?" said Donovan. "Now, with regard to a possible royal pardon …"

"Donovan's doing his best, but this fellow's a tough nut to crack," said Bond. "An extraordinary case altogether … Jekyll first devised a potion that would release his darker self … Edward Hyde … back in 1886. When Hyde's crimes necessitated Jekyll's disappearance, he faked a suicide and fled to Paris. In the decade since then, Jekyll's metabolism's altered. He no longer needs the potion to become Hyde. Any stress will do it."

I couldn't help but briefly reflect on the irony. Stan Lee has stated in the past that he got the idea for The Hulk from the story of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, so the League's version of Hyde working for Jekyll almost exactly like The Hulk does for Bruce Banner has a certain irony to it.

"Then how can he be of use to us?" asked Nemo.

"Jekyll is a genius and Hyde has muscle," I said. "Fair enough, Hyde'll be a bit difficult, but I think as long as we give him a target, he'll be more of a battering ram than a time bomb."

"That does make some sense, I suppose," Nemo conceded. "But Mr Bond, you haven't told us why it was decided to bring such ill-suited individuals together in the first place. What is our purpose?"

"An excellent question, Captain," said Bond, "and one which I was just about to address. Please follow me through here …" He brought us through a door and into a long meeting room with portraits on the wall that I was quite familiar with. "… Where I would like to introduce you to Professor Selwyn Cavor. The professor is in charge of England's proposed lunar expedition. Professor, these are the operatives I spoke of …"

"Will they get my Cavorite back?" asked the slightly overweight old man. "If they don't, we'll have to delay the project!"

"Wait a moment," said Quatermain, wide-eyed. "Did you just say 'lunar expedition'?"

"Absolutely," said Bond. "All hush-hush, of course. It's planned for 1900, to mark the dawn of the twentieth century."

"We'll never make that launch date now!" exclaimed Professor Cavor. "My Cavorite … the anti-gravity material that I'd invented … has been stolen! I could make more, but not by the proposed end-of-the-century celebrations …"

"That's true," said Bond. "However, what troubles my employer Mr M is the fact that parties unknown now possess the Cavorite."

Quatermain gave a start. "Y-You mean that England's enemies might now be able to create … I don't know … flying machines of some sort?"

"That is precisely what I mean," said Bond. "The idea that some rival nation … say, for instance, Germany – might soon be capable of subjecting England to an aerial bombardment with explosives is unthinkable. Imagine, then, our great distress when a notorious German air-pirate named Captain Mors was first suggested as a suspect."

"How are you in this photograph!?" Mina asked suddenly, sounding especially startled. "Dexter … how can you possibly be in this photograph …?"

(Play "Introduction (Titles" by Danny Elfman (from the Edward Scissorhands soundtrack))

She was staring at one of the many photographs lining the walls.

A photograph that was taken in 1787, a hundred and eleven years ago.

The first man in the photo was Lemuel Gulliver of Gulliver's Travels. He was an incredibly old man in a waistcoat, shorts that came to just past his knees, a shirt beneath the waistcoat, and a wide-brimmed hat, while holding a cane. The colour was impossible to identify because of the lack of coloured photography … or, indeed, any high-quality photography.

The next in the image were the married couple Sir Percy and Lady Marguerite Blakeney – the Scarlet Pimpernel and his wife. They looked like a typical high-class couple in the photo.

Next was the ominous-looking Christopher Syn, otherwise known as Dr Syn or, when his split personality came into effect, Captain Clegg. He was masked from head to toe in black with two revolvers in either hand, his arms crossed over his chest.

Then there was Frances "Fanny" Hill. Her blonde hair was obvious even in the low-quality picture. Her dress did nothing to hide her quite frankly massive tits and she clearly had an unclothed leg quite intentionally showing through the slit in her dress.

Last was Natty Bumppo. He seemed to be dressed in typical hunters' garb and had an enormous rifle at his side.

And, between Syn and Fanny, there was me, looking exactly as I do now.

It's really no wonder that Mina had a fright when she looked at the photo.

(End "Introduction (Titles)" by Danny Elfman (from the Edward Scissorhands soundtrack))

"We've already established that this isn't my first time in one of these teams, didn't we?" I asked. "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen has always been called upon by the Crown when England is threatened. I've simply been there since the beginning."

"How is this possible?" asked Quatermain. He, too, was now looking, transfixed, at the photograph.

"I actually died when I was about eighteen," I said. I had decided that telling the truth – but not the whole truth – would be good enough until I grew comfortable enough to share my Multiverser nature. "Someone offered me a chance to come back, immortal and powerful, and I took him up on it. I've been trying to do good with my immortal life ever since."

"So … exactly how old are you?" Nemo asked.

"I'm not sure. I lost count years ago."

Plus, existing in multiple dimensions at once tends to fuck with your perception of time a bit, I added privately.

"Mr Verser has been a loyal member of the League since its inception," said Bond. "He is the first person on the contact list for any situation that may require assembling the League … or, at least, he would be if we knew how to get into contact with him. It's normally him who contacts us, like he has some sort of sixth sense about the whole thing. Anyway, I think it best that I let you know what you've all been gathered to do. The man who is now in possession of the Cavorite, and thus the key to gravity itself, is someone far, far worse than Captain Mors."

"Worse than Mors?" asked Nemo, genuinely taken aback. "Is that conceivable?"

"Oh, yes," Bond said gravely. "The man I speak of is a warlord from the Orient, but recently arrived in England. Little is known of him. It's rumoured he grew up during the Opium Wars, and thereafter abhors the British with a vengeance. We know that with brutal efficiency, he has established himself as the absolute crime king of London's east end. Known only as 'The Doctor,' he's regarded as Satan himself by such few as have survived encountering him. He has the Cavorite. Your group's job is to track him to his lair …"

"Well, then," I said. "The League is set."

First of all, I would like to apologise if any of the Arabic and French was inaccurate, but after finding out just what the Arabic writing in the comic even said, I decided to enter in the English into Google Translate and try to type out the characters actually speaking the language. I decided to stick to that idea with the French stuff. So, yeah, if it's wrong, I do apologise.

*"Punkah-wallah" has no definite translation that I'm aware of. It's basically one of those servants who constantly has to fan their master.

Nothing too spectacular in the first chapter other than showing off Dexter's general OPness and giving a detail or two about the fact that Dexter has been in this world for a LONG damn time. If you want more examples of what Dexter can do or just want to see more of the character, check out my other two Multiverser stories, Hyperdimension Multiverser and Vampire the Masquerade: Multiverser (shameless plugs for the win!).

It's been good to write this. I shall see you all next time.