A/N: Let the chaos begin... THANKS to EVERYONE who reviewed. That's right, I mean YOU! (Calm down, Clez, you're scaring everyone!) Get this, it's one o'clock in the morning (!) here, and I'm hyped... don't know why. Anywho, I'm putting it down to my reviewers, my lovely, sweet kind reviewers who keep comin' back. Oh excellent, the song the title comes from has JUST come on my Media Player *cackles maniacally*...
Charles heard the door slam open, and chuckled lightly under his breath at the expression on Anise Delacroix's beautiful young face. She was livid. He smiled at her in what he hoped was a charming manner, and sat himself in his favourite armchair by the fire, a lit cigarette in his hand.
Jacques Beauvais stood next to his chair, dressed in a smarter fashion than was normal for the man. He had just ordered his patrols back. Who cared about Kazuo anyway? He could tell whomever he wanted whatever he liked... it would make little difference.
That was one thing Charles had always felt... he didn't care who knew what... as long as they were powerless to prevent the actions they disagreed with. This was where the League currently sat, at a loss for what to do to save their little American friend. They would never get inside the grounds, not if Charles could help it.
Jacques' men were too strong and too many. They had built up quite a force over the last couple of years, all starting with Anise. She was first sired, and it had spread like wildfire from there, the cogs in Charles' head turning. Oh, the secrets he knew. The things he could conceive with all of his knowledge. Only one more piece to add, and he had, what he liked to call, a full collection.
Chuckling quietly to himself, he heard Anise say, "How dare you... how can you expect me to do this?"
Jacques grumbled quietly, and rubbed his eyes casually, losing interest rather quickly in the debate that was just starting.
"Oh, my dear girl, it is because of your affection that you were picked for the task," Charles divulged lightly, knocking the ash from his cigarette into an ashtray on the arm of his seat. "Don't you understand that? If you hadn't fallen for the damn boy, Jacques would have been perfectly happy to do it instead."
"Then he can do it if he so wishes," Anise hissed, hovering near the still-swinging double doors.
"Oh, no," Jacques sighed distastefully, grimacing, "I have the feeling he would taste the same as other Americans I have sampled. Very... well, it's not very pleasant, thank you, and I wish to enjoy this evening."
Anise growled. It was louder than he had heard from the girl in a long time, and he stood, glowering at her, the light from the fire reflecting off his features. He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray forcefully, and crossed the room to her.
"What did I tell you about resistance, Anise?" Charles asked her in a low, threatening tone, "What did I say would happen to you?"
She stared up at him, and replied, "You said I would be punished."
"And you will be, if you defy me one more time." He locked her gaze with his, and added, "You will do as you are told, and you will not say another word against it. Understood?"
She said nothing.
Charles cleared his throat expectantly, raising his eyebrows at her, and repeated, "Understood?"
Jacques was watching with interest now, the inkling of a smirk on his face.
"I understand," Anise mumbled. She lowered her gaze, submitting to him.
Charles had always found this odd. Anise, and in fact any of the others, could very easily tear him limb from limb if they so desired, but there was something submissive and pathetic about them that made them cooperative. Perhaps they were afraid of him. Who knew? He cared not as long as they obeyed him.
Sighing, he turned back and made his way to the fireplace again, speaking this time to Jacques, "It is time. Get the boy."
With a somewhat evil grin, Jacques bowed his head slightly in agreement, and was gone.
He was in the process of trying to loosen the chains from the walls when he heard the door on the other side of the room open loudly. It startled him slightly, but he hid the surprise, and he turned slowly to see Beauvais standing in the light of the doorway staring at him with the hint of a smile.
Tom stared at him, and felt his heart beat a little faster when he saw what Jacques held in his large hands: rope.
Well at least I'll get the chains off, he thought, even as Jacques approached, key at the ready. He unlocked the cell, leaving it open. That was when Tom saw two of the three men from before standing just outside the door. He didn't have a hope of getting out that way. He could always jump out the window... if there had been a window in the room, that is.
Cursing inside his head, he let Jacques come right up in front of him. He was curious as to how much a punch would hurt him. Instead of giving in to his curiousity, he asked, "What do you want?"
Jacques did not answer, simply struck him hard around the face, sending him down to the floor, dazed. He closed his eyes tightly against the dizziness that came with the blow, and took a deep breath. Tom felt the other man unlocking the manacles.
Jacques picked Tom roughly off the floor, and slammed him against the wall, yanking his arms behind his back and binding his wrists tightly and quickly. Pulling him away from the wall, he tied a gag across his mouth, and then led him from the cage.
Tom didn't see any point in struggling... not yet anyway. Maybe the other two would disappear soon, go their own ways, and then Tom could try whatever he thought would work... if anything. It was only when he realised they weren't going to Evans' room that Tom understood what was going on.
He remembered what Anise had told him, what she had said was to happen to him. He started struggling at once, trying to pull against Jacques, who quickly took a tight grip of his wounded shoulder and squeezed ruthlessly.
Tom bit down hard on the gag and closed his eyes, noticing that Jacques did not stop squeezing his arm straight away. He was enjoying seeing him in pain. After a while, he loosened his grip, and grabbed him by his hair, turning his head to face him.
"Do it again, and I'll make another wound... this one more painful and much more permanent," Jacques growled at him. Tom saw the faintest flash of feral yellow in his eyes, and decided that heeding his warning was probably a good idea.
Where the hell was the League? They had to have noticed he was gone by now. Surely they must have. Why were they taking so long? They hadn't abandoned him to his fate had they? They were smart enough to figure out where he was... weren't they?
His shoulder throbbing and stinging now, his right arm slightly numb with the pain, Tom allowed himself to be half-dragged to a room. The doors were closed, but Tom could pick out the definite sounds of a group of people from inside. He knew what was going on, but the pain in his shoulder had reached his skull now, and he felt dizzy again.
Tom wavered slightly as Jacques signalled to the other two men to open the doors, and when they did so, he forced himself to look inside. His green eyes picked out at least two to three dozen people, crowded around the room, looking eager and anxious for something.
All of their heads turned at once to take in the sight at the doorway. He knew then what they had been waiting for. He wished he wasn't awake to see this, and seriously considered giving in to the lingering blackness that wanted to consume him right then and there.
Something held him back from that though, and Jacques pushed him forward. The man still had a tight grip on him, at the back of his shirt now, and when they reached the centre of the room, he forced Tom down roughly to his knees.
Tom wished everyone would stop staring at him. It was more than unnerving, considering more than one were growling hungrily, and several sets of eyes were yellow. His breathing quickened a little, and as he looked around, many of them were smiling. At him.
They had started to form a large circle around him and Jacques now. The two men that had accompanied them here were lost in the crowd. Opposite Tom, they parted slightly for two figures to enter.
Evans, with a large blade, and Anise... her eyes were downcast. She wouldn't look at him, and he didn't blame her. He blamed her for just about everything else, but he wouldn't have been able to look at her either if their roles were reversed. He'd liked to think he wouldn't have gone through with any of this if the roles were reversed... but he tried not to think about it at all. Now wasn't the best time. He needed to think of a way out of here.
He needed one fast.
She swept up to the gates and quickly vaulted herself over them, coming across her first two opponents at once, and they were armed. They raised their guns at her, but she was too fast for them. She lashed out with lightning speed, striking one in the chest, and one in the face.
With a sickening thud, the first of the two fell dead to the ground without even uttering a cry. She had pierced his heart. With the dagger she had used against this werewolf, she lashed out again at the other, using her otherworldly strength to decapitate the second. He died instantly.
Satisfied with her progress, she signalled through the gate to Skinner, whom she could smell. He in turn signalled to one of Nemo's men, who would pass it down the line to Hyde at the far edge of the grounds. He was planning to make a nice, loud, messy distraction for the others.
He did just that moments after, when the swift message it was time reached him, and the bricks from the furthest side of the wall exploded inward in a shower that pummelled a few scouts to the ground in shock. The massive form of Hyde bundled through the hole after that, some of the wall still crumbling around him, and he swung out his massive, muscled arms at them, knocking them flying in every direction as they came for him.
That was when the men started vaulting over the walls, some with more ease than others. Skinner clambered over the gate that Mina had realised she could not unlock, and landed with a crash in the bushes on the other side.
"Ow," he mumbled irritably, but hushed his complaining at Mina's icy stare. She could see figures approaching, and she soon realised the odd smell out here. These weren't werewolves... no, these were men. Humans, all of them.
No matter. They were still on the wrong side, and were expendable in her eyes. They had to be dealt with. Giving in to her innermost urges, realising her hunger could be satisfied, she leapt at the first man, concealing her daggers back in her long leather coat, sinking her fangs into his exposed throat, hearing him choke and die.
She drank quickly, knowing time was of the essence. She heard Skinner rush past her, on his way to the mansion. She would need to cover him, and soon went on her way to the next victim.
Edward revelled in the carnage, laughing maniacally in his booming voice as one after the other the men soared through the air, landing with sickening snaps on the ground and in the bushes nearby. Very few of them rose again.
They tried to strike out at him with fists and blades, some even drew guns, but Nemo was quickly there to dispatch of such pests.
Edward was much too distracted in the fun of killing the minions of Evans to worry about bothering Nemo. The Indian was helping him anyway, so for the moment, he would let him be. With Henry whimpering away inside his head telling him to leave everyone else alone, Edward decided against mutilation at this point in time.
Maybe later, he decided with a grim smile, punching another man into the ground.