A/N: WARNING!!! Chapter contains mild violence and language. *I'm a sissy,
so I'm warning the other sissies out there first. Don't want it weighing on
my conscience.*
CHAPTER 3
"Remind me WHY I signed up for this?" Skinner asked Tom as they ducked behind a large leather couch, hiding from the bullets that the iron- clad bad guys were intent on filling them with.
"Shut up, Skinner." Tom reloaded his Winchester as quickly as he could when part of the ornate wooden bookcase opposite them splintered, hit by a bullet fired from one of M's last remaining automatic guns. Tom took aim, then peeked over the couch and fired blindly, ducking back just in time to miss another speeding bullet by a very comfortable inch.
Beside him, the invisible man was rubbing the cream off his face as fast as he could with the discarded coast and gloves. "See ya, Sawyer." With that, Tom felt a slight breeze as Skinner left the relative safety of the couch, which was quickly becoming Swiss cheese.
Tom had no idea where the others were; all he knew was that they were in an Oslo library (leaving Jekyll in the Nautilus) - where, sources had told them, a meeting was going to take place between the madman and an unknown person - when suddenly shots had begun to rain on them like a London summer. Unfortunately, these enemies were armed with the late M's weapons; at least, replicas. Someone had either done his homework, or dug up M's old plans. Either way, it wasn't good. He saw, from the sides of the couch, a book float in midair - Skinner - and whack an automatic-weapon holder repeatedly on the head until he collapsed. It would've been hilarious if it wasn't for the circumstances.
He peeked over the couch again and fired.
--------------------------------------------
Mina was taking care of the marksmen on the higher levels of the library, ripping out their throats and having a meal. Hundreds of bats flew above the fighters below, screeching and attacking those unlucky enough to be on the higher levels. The bloodlust she could hold back no longer, evident in the savage way she ripped out throats. Blood dripped from the gaps between the rails and onto the lower floor of the magnificent library. A feral growl was heard from somewhere above, causing some of the marksmen to look up nervously.
--------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, Nemo was fighting like...well, Nemo. His limbs were a fury of punches and kicks, and the armored opponents were struck down one by one. He used anything he could get his hands on: chair and table legs, books, leather bindings, lamps, and the like. He was like a whirlwind, ripping through the library, very much the same way he did in Dorian Gray's library a long time ago.
--------------------------------------------
Skinner was enjoying himself, grabbing guns by their nozzles and kicking their owners in the shins.
"Sorry, mate," he grinned, taking a gun from its unconscious bearer and hurling it at his friend before he could open fire. The butt of the gun hit the marksmen full in the face, and he fell to the floor, dazed. Skinner stepped on him as he ran over to the other side of the library, intent on getting out of the way of the tongues of flames that nearly nicked him.
--------------------------------------------
Tom swore. An ironclad flame-thrower was somewhere around; he could smell the acrid smoke and hear Skinner's yelp of surprise. He scowled and looked over the couch to see the flame-thrower making its way to the couch. No good. If it got Tom's cover, you get a Tom Sawyer a la fried crisp.
He ran for some inflammable cover when the flame-thrower man was shot down from behind, much to his surprise. As the seven-foot tall man fell, Tom saw who had saved his life: a marksman whom Mina hadn't reached, standing at the railing directly opposite, holding an elephant gun that looked vaguely familiar.
Tom didn't have any more time than that, because he hit his head on a bookcase and blacked out.
--------------------------------------------
Although the members of the League fought brutally, the battle would not have been won without the mysterious sniper, who took out about half of the seemingly-never-ending gunmen.
As the last of their enemies fell, Skinner ran over to where Tom lay, having loss consciousness minutes before. He knelt down and slapped the Secret Service agent repeatedly with such force that it left red marks.
The sounds resounded through the empty library. Mina appeared in a fluttered of hundreds of wings, and Nemo checked to see all the baddies were dead. The mysterious sniper came down from the higher levels; Mina hadn't gotten to him in her feeding frenzy. When he pulled away the scarf that had covered most of his face, Mina stifled a cry of surprise; the man she saw was dead. Or was supposed to be, anyway.
Allan Quatermain!
Skinner turned around at her cry and nearly fell over Tom. "Mr. Q?!"
Even Nemo seemed surprised. "Mr. Quatermain!"
The supposedly-late Allan Quatermain nodded at his friends and stepped over the damaged books to help Skinner in reviving Tom. He was careful not to step on Skinner. "Skinner, get some clothes on so I can see you," his accented voice came. "Bring some brandy, if there is any." He slapped Tom. "Come on, boy, wake up..."
Skinner complied immediately. He took up his coat and gloves, then dug around in his pockets. He produced a gleaming sliver hip flask filled with Scotch.
"Will Scotch do?" the floating coat asked Allan as he handed the flask to him. Allan nodded and poured some into Tom's mouth. Tom reacted immediately: the Scotch flew up into the air in a stream of amber, and the young American sat up groggily, rubbing the back of his head.
"Oh. OW." He grimaced. Then he saw Allan and blinked. "I must've hit my head harder than I thought."
"Nup, mate, you didn't," Skinner interjected. "I see him too. Unless I hit my head too. Funny, I don't remember." "Eyes open, boy," Allan chided Tom. "Can't take care of you all the time."
"Allan Quatermain..." Nemo whispered. "Is it really you?"
"Who do you expect?" Allan shot back. "Your Aunt Polly?"
Nemo lifted a brow and Tom and Skinner stared. "But you're supposed to be dead!"
"I know." A smiled lifted the thin lips of the hunter. "But Africa wouldn't let me die. A witch doctor brought me back."
Skinner looked at Mina. Mina looked at Tom. Tom looked at Nemo. Nemo looked at Allan, saying: "We need to bring you back to the Nautilus."
CHAPTER 3
"Remind me WHY I signed up for this?" Skinner asked Tom as they ducked behind a large leather couch, hiding from the bullets that the iron- clad bad guys were intent on filling them with.
"Shut up, Skinner." Tom reloaded his Winchester as quickly as he could when part of the ornate wooden bookcase opposite them splintered, hit by a bullet fired from one of M's last remaining automatic guns. Tom took aim, then peeked over the couch and fired blindly, ducking back just in time to miss another speeding bullet by a very comfortable inch.
Beside him, the invisible man was rubbing the cream off his face as fast as he could with the discarded coast and gloves. "See ya, Sawyer." With that, Tom felt a slight breeze as Skinner left the relative safety of the couch, which was quickly becoming Swiss cheese.
Tom had no idea where the others were; all he knew was that they were in an Oslo library (leaving Jekyll in the Nautilus) - where, sources had told them, a meeting was going to take place between the madman and an unknown person - when suddenly shots had begun to rain on them like a London summer. Unfortunately, these enemies were armed with the late M's weapons; at least, replicas. Someone had either done his homework, or dug up M's old plans. Either way, it wasn't good. He saw, from the sides of the couch, a book float in midair - Skinner - and whack an automatic-weapon holder repeatedly on the head until he collapsed. It would've been hilarious if it wasn't for the circumstances.
He peeked over the couch again and fired.
--------------------------------------------
Mina was taking care of the marksmen on the higher levels of the library, ripping out their throats and having a meal. Hundreds of bats flew above the fighters below, screeching and attacking those unlucky enough to be on the higher levels. The bloodlust she could hold back no longer, evident in the savage way she ripped out throats. Blood dripped from the gaps between the rails and onto the lower floor of the magnificent library. A feral growl was heard from somewhere above, causing some of the marksmen to look up nervously.
--------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, Nemo was fighting like...well, Nemo. His limbs were a fury of punches and kicks, and the armored opponents were struck down one by one. He used anything he could get his hands on: chair and table legs, books, leather bindings, lamps, and the like. He was like a whirlwind, ripping through the library, very much the same way he did in Dorian Gray's library a long time ago.
--------------------------------------------
Skinner was enjoying himself, grabbing guns by their nozzles and kicking their owners in the shins.
"Sorry, mate," he grinned, taking a gun from its unconscious bearer and hurling it at his friend before he could open fire. The butt of the gun hit the marksmen full in the face, and he fell to the floor, dazed. Skinner stepped on him as he ran over to the other side of the library, intent on getting out of the way of the tongues of flames that nearly nicked him.
--------------------------------------------
Tom swore. An ironclad flame-thrower was somewhere around; he could smell the acrid smoke and hear Skinner's yelp of surprise. He scowled and looked over the couch to see the flame-thrower making its way to the couch. No good. If it got Tom's cover, you get a Tom Sawyer a la fried crisp.
He ran for some inflammable cover when the flame-thrower man was shot down from behind, much to his surprise. As the seven-foot tall man fell, Tom saw who had saved his life: a marksman whom Mina hadn't reached, standing at the railing directly opposite, holding an elephant gun that looked vaguely familiar.
Tom didn't have any more time than that, because he hit his head on a bookcase and blacked out.
--------------------------------------------
Although the members of the League fought brutally, the battle would not have been won without the mysterious sniper, who took out about half of the seemingly-never-ending gunmen.
As the last of their enemies fell, Skinner ran over to where Tom lay, having loss consciousness minutes before. He knelt down and slapped the Secret Service agent repeatedly with such force that it left red marks.
The sounds resounded through the empty library. Mina appeared in a fluttered of hundreds of wings, and Nemo checked to see all the baddies were dead. The mysterious sniper came down from the higher levels; Mina hadn't gotten to him in her feeding frenzy. When he pulled away the scarf that had covered most of his face, Mina stifled a cry of surprise; the man she saw was dead. Or was supposed to be, anyway.
Allan Quatermain!
Skinner turned around at her cry and nearly fell over Tom. "Mr. Q?!"
Even Nemo seemed surprised. "Mr. Quatermain!"
The supposedly-late Allan Quatermain nodded at his friends and stepped over the damaged books to help Skinner in reviving Tom. He was careful not to step on Skinner. "Skinner, get some clothes on so I can see you," his accented voice came. "Bring some brandy, if there is any." He slapped Tom. "Come on, boy, wake up..."
Skinner complied immediately. He took up his coat and gloves, then dug around in his pockets. He produced a gleaming sliver hip flask filled with Scotch.
"Will Scotch do?" the floating coat asked Allan as he handed the flask to him. Allan nodded and poured some into Tom's mouth. Tom reacted immediately: the Scotch flew up into the air in a stream of amber, and the young American sat up groggily, rubbing the back of his head.
"Oh. OW." He grimaced. Then he saw Allan and blinked. "I must've hit my head harder than I thought."
"Nup, mate, you didn't," Skinner interjected. "I see him too. Unless I hit my head too. Funny, I don't remember." "Eyes open, boy," Allan chided Tom. "Can't take care of you all the time."
"Allan Quatermain..." Nemo whispered. "Is it really you?"
"Who do you expect?" Allan shot back. "Your Aunt Polly?"
Nemo lifted a brow and Tom and Skinner stared. "But you're supposed to be dead!"
"I know." A smiled lifted the thin lips of the hunter. "But Africa wouldn't let me die. A witch doctor brought me back."
Skinner looked at Mina. Mina looked at Tom. Tom looked at Nemo. Nemo looked at Allan, saying: "We need to bring you back to the Nautilus."