Title: Visions of Light and Darkness
Author: Hellcat The Wicked
Disclaimer: Not mine, go away.
Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance/Angst/Humor (So General, I guess)
Summary: The battle for good and evil has begun. Count Gregory seeks the Healer and Destroyer of Light and Darkness, while Jules seeks to understand his ever-growing powers to see into the future. Whilst on this journey, both come to grips with the fact that Light does not always precede the virtuous, nor Shadow the corrupt. "Everything you think you know is wrong. Everything you thought was true is a lie."
Notes On The Text
To start, there are some things that ought to be stated. The most important of these things is that unlike many of the other stories I've written and read, this will not be driven by the romantic plot. Yes, there will be a lot of romance here, but the point of the story is not to have our hero fall in love with our heroine, with some action/adventure on the side. I can't stand stories like that, and I can't stand the fact that I've written stories like that.
The second thing I ought to explain is that I've borrowed ideas from shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Charmed to create the characters Aurora, Twilight, Jasper/Watcher and Star. There will be terms that may have been employed originally in the shows, but they will not be used in the same context.
Finally, please don't sugar-coat my reviews. If you liked it, fine, but if you didn't that's okay too. I want to hear what you didn't like and what you think I could do to make it better. Feel free to use terms like "Mary Sue" if that's what you think is happening, but I want to know why you think she's a Mary Sue. That being said, feel free to click the Prologue button. Also, any conflicts that might arise involving the series storyline are accidental. I would very much appreciate any idiosyncrasies brought to my attention, in the form of a review.
Prologue
The Mission
BOOM!
"Verne! Passepartout!" exclaimed Phileas Fogg. The tall, raven-haired gentleman stomped into the makeshift laboratory and crossed his arms. Smoke billowed out of the doorway, charring Phileas' fine, silk shirt and smearing his freshly-scrubbed face with soot. It was safe to say that the Englishman was not pleased.
"I am thinking that we were putting in too much sulfur." commented Passepartout, face blackened from the small explosion.
"Yes," replied the younger man, offering the valet a handkerchief. "perhaps next time we should monitor the temperature a bit better."
"What are you two doing in here?" demanded Phileas, snatching the handkerchief from Jules before Passepartout could receive it. The oddly-accented servant exchanged glances with the young writer and set to work cleaning up the mess they'd made. This left Jules to explain to his mentor what it was he'd been up to.
"You see, Fogg," he began, pulling a lightly-crisped paper from under his many notes. "I suddenly had an idea for a new sort of propulsion system. Passepartout was good enough to help me begin work on it."
"I see." said Fogg, raising an eyebrow. "And the explosion?"
"Ah…yes…" Jules rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and made a wide gesture with his free hand. "We had trouble with some of the combustibles." Sighing, Phileas handed his young friend the handkerchief and looked around at his poor, singed dirigible.
The Aurora had been docked in Paris for a short period of time, so that it might be refueled and repaired, particularly after their most recent run-in with the League of Darkness. It had been a rather difficult assignment for everyone, involving the discovery of an ancient artifact said to have the power of Astral-Projection. The entire ordeal had ended with the artifact's destruction and significant damage to the Aurora.
"Right…" said Phileas, arching an eyebrow at his friend. "well, just clean this place up and try to be more careful next time."
The Englishman could never stay angry at the two, particularly his young protégé, for he knew all too well what became of them when they were not allowed to continue with their experiments. He recalled quite accurately the way the young writer got stir-crazy and irritable, and the way his valet grew stiff and rigid to his schedule. Though he openly complained about the way Passepartout was late with minuscule things such as afternoon tea, the dependability of such matters was a small comfort.
He would never admit it, but there were times that he was glad for those few minutes past the hour when Passepartout would appear, apologizing for his lateness and rushing to tend to his master. He also remembered all too well what it had been like to be in his valet's proverbial shoes, and knew that fussing over three or four minutes was rather silly.
"Honestly, Phileas," said a new voice. It was his cousin, Rebecca Fogg. Her arms were crossed and her face full of amusement. "it isn't as though you've never made messes before."
"I realize that, Rebecca. That is why I am not angry." said Phileas.
"In any case," said the scarlet-tressed woman. "I have just received a telegraph from London."
"Another mission?" asked Jules, looking excited.
"Yes. One that will take us back to America."
"America? What on earth could be so important we have to go all the way back to the States?" demanded Phileas.
"It did not say; only that I am to go to Salem; Massachusetts to meet up with an informant to the British Secret Service."
"That is sounding to me like some-sing a lesser agent could handle." commented Passepartout.
"It does," Rebecca concurred. "but if that's what they want me to do then that's what I'm going to do."
"When do we leave?" asked Jules. Rebecca frowned at the young Frenchman and glanced absently at Phileas. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and adjusted his tie, obviously catching something the young writer did not.
"It's going to be just us this time, Jules." said Phileas.
"It's not that we don't want you to come, it's just that…"
"Rebecca's superiors are of the belief that civilians should not be involved in affairs such as this."
"You do not work for the British Secret Service." Pointed out the young Frenchman.
"That is different, Jules." said Rebecca, crossing her arms. "Phileas worked for the Secret Service once, and was one of their top agents. His expertise is of great importance to the mission."
"And Passepartout?" demanded Jules. "What could the Secret Service possibly want with a valet?"
"Someone needs to pilot The Aurora." said Phileas. Jules scowled at his friends, all of whom were looking greatly uncomfortable, and sighed. He then bid them all a fond farewell and headed back to his garret to brood over being left behind.
"Jules, it's for the best." called Rebecca, as he walked out the door. "We shall all see you when we return."
"Good evening." was all the writer could bring himself to reply with. "And good luck."
End of Prologue
Please review now.
Author: Hellcat The Wicked
Disclaimer: Not mine, go away.
Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance/Angst/Humor (So General, I guess)
Summary: The battle for good and evil has begun. Count Gregory seeks the Healer and Destroyer of Light and Darkness, while Jules seeks to understand his ever-growing powers to see into the future. Whilst on this journey, both come to grips with the fact that Light does not always precede the virtuous, nor Shadow the corrupt. "Everything you think you know is wrong. Everything you thought was true is a lie."
Notes On The Text
To start, there are some things that ought to be stated. The most important of these things is that unlike many of the other stories I've written and read, this will not be driven by the romantic plot. Yes, there will be a lot of romance here, but the point of the story is not to have our hero fall in love with our heroine, with some action/adventure on the side. I can't stand stories like that, and I can't stand the fact that I've written stories like that.
The second thing I ought to explain is that I've borrowed ideas from shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Charmed to create the characters Aurora, Twilight, Jasper/Watcher and Star. There will be terms that may have been employed originally in the shows, but they will not be used in the same context.
Finally, please don't sugar-coat my reviews. If you liked it, fine, but if you didn't that's okay too. I want to hear what you didn't like and what you think I could do to make it better. Feel free to use terms like "Mary Sue" if that's what you think is happening, but I want to know why you think she's a Mary Sue. That being said, feel free to click the Prologue button. Also, any conflicts that might arise involving the series storyline are accidental. I would very much appreciate any idiosyncrasies brought to my attention, in the form of a review.
Prologue
The Mission
BOOM!
"Verne! Passepartout!" exclaimed Phileas Fogg. The tall, raven-haired gentleman stomped into the makeshift laboratory and crossed his arms. Smoke billowed out of the doorway, charring Phileas' fine, silk shirt and smearing his freshly-scrubbed face with soot. It was safe to say that the Englishman was not pleased.
"I am thinking that we were putting in too much sulfur." commented Passepartout, face blackened from the small explosion.
"Yes," replied the younger man, offering the valet a handkerchief. "perhaps next time we should monitor the temperature a bit better."
"What are you two doing in here?" demanded Phileas, snatching the handkerchief from Jules before Passepartout could receive it. The oddly-accented servant exchanged glances with the young writer and set to work cleaning up the mess they'd made. This left Jules to explain to his mentor what it was he'd been up to.
"You see, Fogg," he began, pulling a lightly-crisped paper from under his many notes. "I suddenly had an idea for a new sort of propulsion system. Passepartout was good enough to help me begin work on it."
"I see." said Fogg, raising an eyebrow. "And the explosion?"
"Ah…yes…" Jules rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and made a wide gesture with his free hand. "We had trouble with some of the combustibles." Sighing, Phileas handed his young friend the handkerchief and looked around at his poor, singed dirigible.
The Aurora had been docked in Paris for a short period of time, so that it might be refueled and repaired, particularly after their most recent run-in with the League of Darkness. It had been a rather difficult assignment for everyone, involving the discovery of an ancient artifact said to have the power of Astral-Projection. The entire ordeal had ended with the artifact's destruction and significant damage to the Aurora.
"Right…" said Phileas, arching an eyebrow at his friend. "well, just clean this place up and try to be more careful next time."
The Englishman could never stay angry at the two, particularly his young protégé, for he knew all too well what became of them when they were not allowed to continue with their experiments. He recalled quite accurately the way the young writer got stir-crazy and irritable, and the way his valet grew stiff and rigid to his schedule. Though he openly complained about the way Passepartout was late with minuscule things such as afternoon tea, the dependability of such matters was a small comfort.
He would never admit it, but there were times that he was glad for those few minutes past the hour when Passepartout would appear, apologizing for his lateness and rushing to tend to his master. He also remembered all too well what it had been like to be in his valet's proverbial shoes, and knew that fussing over three or four minutes was rather silly.
"Honestly, Phileas," said a new voice. It was his cousin, Rebecca Fogg. Her arms were crossed and her face full of amusement. "it isn't as though you've never made messes before."
"I realize that, Rebecca. That is why I am not angry." said Phileas.
"In any case," said the scarlet-tressed woman. "I have just received a telegraph from London."
"Another mission?" asked Jules, looking excited.
"Yes. One that will take us back to America."
"America? What on earth could be so important we have to go all the way back to the States?" demanded Phileas.
"It did not say; only that I am to go to Salem; Massachusetts to meet up with an informant to the British Secret Service."
"That is sounding to me like some-sing a lesser agent could handle." commented Passepartout.
"It does," Rebecca concurred. "but if that's what they want me to do then that's what I'm going to do."
"When do we leave?" asked Jules. Rebecca frowned at the young Frenchman and glanced absently at Phileas. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and adjusted his tie, obviously catching something the young writer did not.
"It's going to be just us this time, Jules." said Phileas.
"It's not that we don't want you to come, it's just that…"
"Rebecca's superiors are of the belief that civilians should not be involved in affairs such as this."
"You do not work for the British Secret Service." Pointed out the young Frenchman.
"That is different, Jules." said Rebecca, crossing her arms. "Phileas worked for the Secret Service once, and was one of their top agents. His expertise is of great importance to the mission."
"And Passepartout?" demanded Jules. "What could the Secret Service possibly want with a valet?"
"Someone needs to pilot The Aurora." said Phileas. Jules scowled at his friends, all of whom were looking greatly uncomfortable, and sighed. He then bid them all a fond farewell and headed back to his garret to brood over being left behind.
"Jules, it's for the best." called Rebecca, as he walked out the door. "We shall all see you when we return."
"Good evening." was all the writer could bring himself to reply with. "And good luck."
End of Prologue
Please review now.