A/N: I am so sorry this took so long. Had a bit of the dreaded writer's block, and wanted to scream. But never fear! Chapter four is here! And I have an answer for anyone sitting there in their computer chair thinking, Hmm, why do people always kidnap poor Tom Sawyer? Well, my friends, I have what I like to call a logical explanation for this. Look at the League; you've got your split-personality monster-man, your invisible man, your vampire and then your martial arts expert. Who would you pick on... other than the young secret agent who carries a couple of guns? I know my answer...
Naitriab: Oh, that's the plan... let's hope :)
Sethoz: ... love you too, buddy...
MJ: Dark? Try 'amazingly so'... well, you'll have to wait and see. Glad you liked the end of 'Belonging'.
LotRseer3350: Please don't have a panic attack! Bear with me? :(
Fayra: Welcome! Nice to see you, and glad I can keep you intrigued. Chapter 3 was the most difficult to write, so I'm happy it's the best in your opinion. As for Quatermain... well... just wait and see ;)
* * *
The three of them stood in the control centre of the Nautilus, waiting for Nemo's word of how long it was now until they reached America. They watched the stern man make his calculations and talk to his First Mate, Patel. The two parted, and Nemo faced his companions.
"We will be at our destination in twelve hours. Not long now," he told them. Mina nodded, and looked to Jekyll and Skinner, who was visible in his coat, trilby, pince-nez and white greasepaint. They nodded also, and departed the bridge, thanking the Captain for his news.
"Not long now then, eh?" Skinner said, with a tilt of his head to look at his associates as they strode along beside him down the corridor. It was nearing lunch, and they had all silently and collectively decided, it seemed, to wait there for the Captain and the meal.
"Only a few more hours until we arrive," Jekyll agreed, hands behind his back as always, hair styled flat and neat on his head. "What are our plans after we collect Agent Sawyer?"
"I do not know," Mina voiced, and gave the lightest of shrugs beneath her blouse and red necktie. "I suspect the Captain will ask us what we wish to do next. Perhaps Tom will not be ready to leave just yet."
Skinner chuckled. "I don't see why not though. He's always itchin' to go somewhere other than where he is."
Jekyll nodded silently in his agreement, but Mina glanced across the doctor's front to observe the man. "We shall have to wait and see what he says, won't we?"
"Indeed we shall, dear Mina," Skinner teased with a cocky grin, and Mina rolled her eyes, leading the way into the dining hall.
* * *
Tom looked down on Quatermain and M, the knife of Sanderson Reed still pressed to his throat threateningly. One of his arms was held behind his back, and he knew better than to struggle. He saw the look of utter triumph on M's smug face, moments before Allan Quatermain whirled, Webley revolver in his hand, and let off a shot.
Sanderson Reed jolted with the impact behind him, and Tom ducked down and away, looking up moments later once the knife had clattered to the floor to see Allan with a blade lodged in his back. M was making his escape through a crack in the wall. M jumped.
Tom launched himself off the upper level, landing, and running over to the crack in the wall, looking through it to see M gliding to the snow down below. Tom turned and retrieved the elephant gun, Matilda, going to Quatermain, who revealed his shattered glasses from inside his pocket.
"Get 'im," Quatermain rasped, and Tom ran to the crack again, gun in his hand.
Flash!
"I got him!" Tom said triumphantly, turning back and halting at once as he saw Allan struggling for breath, slumped on some old furniture. He was watching Tom, and he nodded. When he spoke, his voice was forced, very weak, as he said, "May this new century be yours, son... as the old one, was mine."
Tom started forward as Allan slumped entirely, going very still. He stopped; realising there was nothing he could do. Allan Quatermain was dead...
"Stop!" Tom pleaded, trying to wrench his head out of the double-handed grasp Gregory Wright had on him. He looked into Wright's dark eyes, and saw the smile in them.
Perspiring heavily, Tom panted, desperately fighting for air as Wright let go of him. His head lolled forward, too heavy to keep up, and he closed his eyes. He couldn't take much more of this, he knew.
"My, my," Wright began with humour in his tone, standing beside Juliana, "we do have ourselves a guilt-ridden American Agent, don't we?"
Just go away... Tom begged internally, too weak to voice his thoughts. Just leave me alone...
* * *
Amelia Kendrick travelled briskly, her heels carrying her the distance through the building to the secure room where she had left the American and two of her associates. She had given them long enough. They had to have made some progress by now, surely.
If not, then she was going to be seriously disappointed in their abilities. Both of them she had known for a time now, and had no reason to doubt them. They were both very capable people, Juliana and Gregory, though she held no love for the latter. He was a vile man, one who reminded her of her late husband, and she took no joy in that whatsoever.
She reached the large metal door, and opened it carefully in case Gregory or Juliana was behind it. Luckily, both were a little further into the room, standing side by side. Amelia came up beside Juliana, the tallest of the women, and said, "Well?"
Juliana, as always, was silent, and simply stared at the clearly exhausted figure of Tom Sawyer as he hung from his restraints before them, breathing heavily and perspiring. Amelia raised an eyebrow curiously, and waited for Gregory to explain.
"Well, it would seem we have ourselves quite the jigsaw puzzle here, dear Amelia," Gregory began, and he sighed in a delicate manner, wiping his hands on a handkerchief, "but I feel that we are very close. In fact, I am so confident, you need not leave the room before we are finished." He paused, even as Sawyer looked up at him, and said, "Juliana?"
Sawyer screamed loudly, closing his eyes once again immediately, and Amelia waited. She tried to shut out the noise, but it wasn't long until Sawyer stopped, too weak to cry out any longer. She knew he had been abused and deprived... even if not for long, but it still seemed to have had some effect the young man.
Gregory, to pass the time whilst Juliana gave the American that last little push, cleaned the blade of his stiletto with the same handkerchief, humming lightly to himself in a distracted manner, eyes never leaving his task.
Before long, Juliana blinked slowly, and sighed, glancing once to Amelia as a sign. Amelia looked to the auburn-haired woman and cocked her head lightly. She saw the hint of triumph in Juliana's pretty eyes, and smiled, glancing to Gregory. She raised an eyebrow once again.
Rolling his eyes, Gregory moved himself forward, and took Sawyer by the hair, pulling his head back and up. He was awake, by all meanings of the word, but seemed less than aware. Gregory flashed the stiletto in the light, and there was no flinch. Sawyer just looked at the other man with pained eyes and panted lightly.
Narrowing his eyes, Gregory shifted his grip so that he kept Sawyer's head up by holding him by his bottom jaw now, and fell very quiet, which -to Amelia- was a blessing. The man was much too full of himself for her tastes.
A moment of utter stillness passed in the room; where the dropping of a pin could be heard as clear as a gunshot, before Gregory released Sawyer's head, letting it loll again, turning back on his two female companions, eyes set firmly on Amelia.
"All yours, my dear."
"Gregory, if you persist in calling me that," Amelia began as she moved forward, "I will make you regret the day you first entered this world."
"Oh, and what a shame that will be," Gregory mocked, and joined Juliana again, stiletto twirling skilfully in his hand, skin mottled with scars from previous incidents he would not explain. Amelia cared very little.
Amelia stood before Sawyer now, her long skirts hiding her booted feet completely from view, touching the ground around her. She stared intently at the young American, and closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out with every spare fraction of her mind to do as she desired.
"Look at me," she projected clearly, extending the barriers of her consciousness to brush against his, their minds starting to link and merge. She waited.
Slowly, but surely, Tom Sawyer raised his head, and their eyes met.
Amelia smiled. Reaching up, she released his hands from the manacles restraining them, and heard more than saw him fall to his knees. Idly, she looked down at him as one would on a lower being such as a stray dog or a rat.
"Stand."
Though it clearly pained him somewhat, Sawyer managed to push himself with great effort to his feet, wobbling slightly, eyes meeting hers again and locking there this time.
Amelia stared right back, using everything she had to push and invade his mind deeper and deeper, until she had thoroughly taken over. He fought her, probably without knowing it, his own consciousness being submerged whilst he stood staring blankly at this woman he barely knew. She kept him held in the gaze until she was finished, until she could feel no resistance in his mind, and allowed herself a smile of triumph.
Keeping her concentration on Sawyer to maximum, she spoke to her companions, "Well done... time for a test, I think."