A/N: Okay, this one is made up of loads of little POVs. I can tell you that this is coming to a close now, despite all the unbelievable tension. The next chapter will most probably focus solely on a certain psychic and vampire confrontation, if you catch my drift? *grin* I think the reason this is drawing to a close so quickly is because the idea has reached the point I want it to be at (thank god), and I have another idea (believe it or not!) that seems intent on hogging all my focus. *growl* Hehe... when you see the idea, you'll get why I just laughed, maybe. But, gah! Enough of that. On with the show/tension/angst/drama! You get the point...
RogueSparrow: Hehe. Good quotation there. I like it. Ah yes... the abrupt end. Sorry about that. Couldn't be helped. When your mind stops working, there's little you can do about it *frown*
drowchild: *helps you to egg on Tom from the sidelines, and then remembers who's writing this* Oops, suppose I should get back to work, shouldn't I? *nervous laugh*
Beck2: Not a problem. At least you came back. Hyde is a little bit miffed methinks, and I should know. I'm kind of in control of the guy... beast... him, you know what I mean.
Rayne: Wow, thanks! Best action scenes? That's quite a compliment! I'm a big Mina fan myself, hence her big inclusion in my stories *cough*. She's such a cool character. And the last thing I want is to take her, or anyone else, out of character... I hate that. Thank you again.
Silent Bob 546: Yay! You hate them! Wahoo! You're the first person to say you hate all four of them, and I'm glad. I tried to make them as obnoxious and despicable as possible, and I guess I succeeded in your eyes. That makes me feel very happy.
Capt. Cow: *watches you react to your sugar overdose* Hehehehe. Funny stuff... thanks for your enthusiasm.
Sethoz: *cowers under the Dorian glare* Eeep. That cliff-hanger was much more tame than any of the others! I thought you would appreciate that :P Hehe. *re-reads your review, and sees the word poke* *whimpers*
LotRseer3350: Poor Elizabeth? *joins you in the evil laughter* Although, to be fair, it was her father's fault she's so twisted and sadistic. Oh well... I suppose it's my fault really. *sees she's diverted blame onto herself* Oops... Yes, anyway, she's getting her comeuppance for the whole stabbing thing. Bwahaha! As for Ishmael's accent... yipe... I can't remember! It's some sort of British accent... someone here in England, but I can't place it. And you're not dumb :P
Edward completed his hasty climb of the stairs, and turned to the right, seeing one of the two figures from before, the man, who only succeeding in heightening Hyde's anger by having the nerve to glare at him. The man held a dagger of some sort in his hand, and made to lunge at Edward, but he clearly hadn't anticipated the larger being's rage.
One mighty arm swept forward, knocking the man backwards in a heap. But the smaller man was soon back on his feet, and he threw the knife down the corridor at Edward.
Edward leaned to one side to avoid the blade as it flew past him, but the edge grazed his arm, drawing a growl from the depths of his throat. His dark eyes turned on the man, and he bellowed furiously.
"Try not to make too much mess, Edward," came the voice of Jekyll from deep down inside, and Hyde took a looming step towards the man.
Of course, Edward paid no heed to Henry's little request, and took another step towards the man who had tried to attack him with something so pathetic as a knife. He would pay for that.
She knew he –whatever he was- was here somewhere. She could hear his light, delicate movements every few seconds, though her eyes could not place him. She had felt him when they had collided, and for a moment, she had managed to brush his mind and make him suffer. But then she had lost him almost as quickly, and was still trying in vain to locate him once more.
Juliana was starting to lose patience, and her eyes darted about to try and find some clue as to where her intended victim was. Whoever and whatever he was, he certainly knew how to keep himself concealed.
She would have him soon though... he would make some sort of mistake, and then she would be upon him. Juliana planned to punish him greatly for even being here in the first place... he had no right. Who was he to intrude?
He was nothing, and she planned on showing him just how inconsequential he really was.
Skinner ducked and weaved, using all of the alcoves and corridors at his disposal. This place was a bloody maze! How could anyone seriously intend to conduct business or even live here without getting lost at least once a day? The answer to that very question was lost on Skinner as he jogged on the balls of his feet as lightly as possible, putting more and more distance between himself and the advancing woman. Her mysterious eyes kept searching for him, and for some reason, that only served to -though he felt quite safe as long as she didn't find him- unnerve him greatly. He thought she might have some secret way of finding him, though he knew that was impossible. She couldn't see him, and therein was her weakness.
So long as he took full advantage of it –something Skinner happened to very good at indeed- he might just be able to keep his skull from being torn apart from the inside. He was quite keen on keeping his head intact. He was in no rush for the woman to get her eyes on him and make that anything other than what he wanted.
Elizabeth was so intent on the gun itself and keeping it under her telekinetic control that she barely even registered Tom Sawyer was still in the room with her. All of her focus was on her task, and her mind was stretching as far as it could go. She knew she was fighting something... but what?
Flashbacks of her father coming towards her haunted her mind, and she was distracted sporadically, her concentration slipping. She could feel a tug on the weapon she had hovering over the ground, but tried not to think about it, instead keeping her mind set firmly on taking back what she now felt belonged to her.
The gun... she remembered whose it was now, and her attention started to slip from the rifle, to who was fighting her for it, physically gripping the weapon.
Using all of her strength and ability, she fired it one more time.
Gregory picked himself off the floor, thoroughly bruised and battered, but too proud and arrogant to stay down. After years of winning, he decided quickly that losing did not suit him at all. He wasn't willing to lost to a freak-of-nature such as the one coming towards him.
He stood, unbalanced, and managed to duck under the blow that came for him. On his way down, he grabbed the beast's arm, and opened up its memories, reaching in with his own mind whilst keeping hold of the arm.
This was not a monster... this was a man? It made no sense. The images flashed with little order, making Gregory's head pound mercilessly, and beast and man screamed as one, both hurt and confused.
The monster thrashed his arm to the side, slamming Gregory into the wall with enough force to shatter bone. Gregory could not –despite the aforementioned pride and arrogance- bite back the yell that escaped him then, even as he collapsed to the ground, feeling the way his right shoulder sat out of place. It throbbed madly, and when he tried to move it, he failed. He only succeeded in bringing more pain, blinding him to anything else in his world, other than the rage building up inside of him.
No... he did not like losing one bit.
He could feel her slipping, a fraction more with every strenuous second that passed, his hands straining to keep their grip though it made his shoulder burn wildly with an agony that coursed relentlessly up and down his right arm, spreading to his chest. He knew she was weakening... after all, her last shot had gone wide, and he'd had time to duck.
His breathing came in forced gasps, and he gave a yell of frustration.
That was exactly when the gun snapped free of her control, as if his outburst had startled her. It was so sudden he almost dropped the Winchester, but instead, he glowered at Elizabeth, spun the rifle in his left hand, rose it to his shoulder -ignoring the screaming protests of his body-, loaded another round, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
The explosion of the shot resonated around the room with a booming crack that went through Tom Sawyer's entire body before he actually met Elizabeth's gaze. She stared at him for a long time, eyes unwavering. The ice blue pupils stared right into him, and chilled him to the bone then, before she gave a shiver, visibly. Her fingers twitched, and she held a feminine hand to her stomach.
It was remarkable the shot from such a powerful gun had not blown her backwards into the door. She had been steeling her body for the impact, perhaps. Tom did not dwell on it, only let his arms drop, and he fell to one knee, exhausted and suffering. He gasped for air that refused to come to him freely, and his pain took over his emotions.
Elizabeth gave a small wheeze, and then closed her eyes -almost peacefully- before slumping to the floor, the wound in her stomach bleeding and staining the delicate fabric of her dress. She stopped breathing.
Tom let the Winchester out of his grasp, and placed his left hand palm-down on the cold ground, trying to steady himself.
"Skinner?" he managed weakly, green eyes scanning the dark corners. He listened for any sounds: a footstep; an intake or exhalation of breath; the rustling of the chains hanging from the pipe as someone passed them. None came.
He was alone.
Giving in to the unbelievable agony, he collapsed to his side, and closed his eyes.
Edward watched the man try to rise to his feet again, failing and seemingly giving up after the third agonising attempt. Edward panted from the exertion he had used, and watched the man with a twinge of an unfamiliar sensation inside of him.
"That's sympathy, Edward... not something you're used to, I'd imagine."
Edward grunted, and walked toward the man, not entirely sure what he planned to do when he reached him. Once looming over him, he reached down for him, intending to take him back to the Nautilus where Jekyll could tend to him, and then he could be incarcerated for his crimes.
As he picked the man up, he only just caught the flash of metal in the light, but was too slow to avoid it as it came plunging down towards him.
Gregory Wright had finally lost his final scrap of what he had thought was sanity, and plunged the knife down at the beast's vast chest with a cry of pure rage and madness. The torso of the monster twisted slightly, and the aim went wide, but it still penetrated.
With an insane laugh, Gregory heard the monster give a wail of agony, before glaring him in the face. Man and monster locked eyes then, and Gregory could only smile, though he knew that little stunt had surely killed what little chance he had had for mercy.
Mercy is a weakness, was all he could think, and he cocked his head at the animal, the pain lost on Gregory now, though he did not know why. It had bled out of him, and all that was left was the sheer glory of having wounding his enemy in return, though it must have only been a small, trivial injury to such a hulking mass of flesh and sinew.
He felt the beast's grip tighten about his arm where he had gripped him, and felt a snap as one of his bones shattered under the sheer pressure. He barely felt it, only stared the creature in the face almost blankly now.
"Hyde, don't! He can be imprisoned for what he's done! Don't give in to your urges, please!"
"Be quiet, Henry," Edward growled, and saw the flicker of confusion in the man's dark eyes as he held him in a vice grip that had already crumbled the bones in his left arm as he held him aloft like a mouse, helpless and devoid of hope for escape.
This man did not deserve mercy or sympathy. He was the kind of man who expected nothing less than what he 'bestowed' on his victims... cruelty and malice. Perhaps he saw it as a fitting way to die.
"Very well," he growled to the man, and saw something in the eyes again. Was it gratitude... or sheer lunacy?
They were over the banister now, and with a roar, Edward Hyde lifted the man high into the air, reached back with him in his grasp, and then hurled him through the air over the foyer below.
"No!"
Jekyll's cry fell on deaf ears... it was too late.
The last thing Gregory Wright felt was his own body soaring over the banister, high above the bare foyer, all thoughts of survival lost to him, his mind a complete void, a blank canvass. He welcomed death with open arms.
Though he was not sure why, it seemed a fitting way to end his existence. He had fought with all he could muster against the monstrous beast, and had lost. At least he hadn't fallen victim to that brat and his silly guns. That would have been embarrassing.
Before anything else even remotely resembling a coherent thought could flash through his warped mind, Gregory smashed into the wall on the entrance face of the house, and then the ground came rushing up to meet him.
Gregory Wright remembered nothing more.