Author's Note: This is almost over, guys! This is the penultimate chapter! I can't believe I'm nearly finished *frown* And I was having so much fun! I hope you've been enjoying it as much as I have. Oh yes, and for those of you who don't yet know, I've created a freewebs site dedicated to just this fic all on its own. If you go to Clez Corner, and go to my LXG site, then add 2 to the end of the URL, you can find it, lol, and then you'll be directed to the Shadow Games website (hopefully). It's just the basic text from here, with some of my personal screen caps and favourite pictures from the net. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think. And remember… only one chapter left!
Scene: That pivotal shot…
Shout Outs:
Sethoz: What is it with me and the way I write fire? I can scare the bejeezus out of just about anyone with that… not really a blessing, but not really a curse, 'eh? Have to say, when I read the way you included that Landon quote, I burst out laughing. It was so cleverly and seamlessly done… you genius! Thanks for the praise on the description… you might be able to tell I like description… perhaps a little too much. Ahem. Haha, now you won't be able to watch the film without Tom's thoughts from this fic bursting into your mind and making you laugh! Your sister will give you the strangest looks… before I leave you; I have one final thing to declare… Smurf on acid!!!! Aheh…
Chisara Notell: You like fire…? Excuse me whilst I shudder *shudders* Sorry, I just hate it… with all my being. Some people know why, but I shall not go into detail. Needless to say, 'twas not nice. But anyway, thank you kindly for the review! And I guessed right on your favourite bit? *ticks off another point* Excellent… Mwahahaha! No worries about the alert email… that's a habit now, lol.
Leigh S. Durron: Ah, it seems quite a few of you were waiting for that last chapter. Glad it satisfied. It was a little tricky to write. I couldn't really use the book to help; cuz the fight is different in that, lol. *pokes book… gently* Ah details… I love 'em.
kingleby: I'm glad you don't think he's an idiot, because I don't think that either. Skinner was very brave and noble in that part of the movie, and I love him for that. I thank you for your kind words, and hope you enjoy the last two chapters!
Silent Bob 546: And who told you Skinner was bad? *holds up frying pan* I know how to use this… who was it? I'll make 'em see stars and tweety birds! *puts down pan* Okay, I'm calm now. I get told I'm really sarcastic sometimes… by my sister, who doesn't seem to realise that I am only sarcastic to her when she is annoying me. Lol. Trigger Happy on a shirt for Tom would be so funny! God, if I could write comedy, I would write one with him wearing a shirt like that! Hehehehe.
Niani: *picks up pan again* If they don't make a sequel, I'm going to introduce them to this… *puts it down* But then again, if I pummel them all, they can't make one. Hmm, tricky situation. I'm sure they will… I meant they made Spiderman2, didn't they? And Blade 2, and Scooby 2, and… okay, there are too many to list, but you see my point. Write the letters! Lol.
Naitriab: Tom Sawyer wasn't actually in it that much… Quatermain was pretty central, cuz he's Connery, and lots of Sawyer was cut, which was a shame cuz it's so well acted on the DVD as well. But being the protégé, I can kind of see validity to your point. Most of the characters were overshadowed by Connery unfortunately. I mean, look at poor Skinner, he disappeared in the middle (no pun intended)! I'm glad you've enjoyed it, and hope you continue to as well. Thanks!
angelic katty: I could leave it there because… I'm mean? Works for me! Young lady? Something tells me I'm might be older than you… just a feeling. Not sure what feeling… hmm. Meh. Glad you liked the chapter!
RogueSparrow: *pokes Reed* Stupid man… oh well, not long left for him, Bwahaha! *hands you tissues* C'mon, Sparrow, stay with me, you can beat this cold. Thanks for saying I rock! Still think you're being too kind though, lol.
Ellina: *is tackled* Oof! Hehe. Hello there! I'm glad you flick between characters, but Jekyll is a fine character to admire. Very noble that one. Aw, wow, very nice of you to say that about my writing… I know Sethoz will be pleased as well. Very nice of you indeed… thanks for that! Ooh! A plushie, all for me! *cuddles plushie* Thankies!
Psychozzy: Hehe, yeah, unfortunately they cut the "I'm Reed" line, which kinda sucks. Might have been nice to have that pointed out definitely. But like I said, it is in the novelisation. Thought I'd let you all know, in case you didn't already, cuz if you listen carefully, you can pick it out in his voice. Oh god yes "DAVID AND GOLIATH!" is my favourite part of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. It was late at night, and I burst out laughing and woke up my sister, lol! I couldn't think of anything else to call the armoured man, so goliath seemed to fit. Plus that's what I called it in my script. Thanks for the review!
Graymoon74: I agree with you about the burning. Jeez, that would be agonising. Glad you're enjoying it, and… I don't want it to end either! Hurry up and make a new film so I can fictionalise that one! Lol!
Beck2: Aww, bless him, he can just be a little bit careless *hugs new plushie*. I'll be sad to see it go as well, but then I suppose I will have more time for my other works… well that didn't comfort me at all. Ah well. Thanks.
LotRseer3350: He cuts him on the hand… after… wait, no need to tell you where cuz I just described it *slaps forehead* duh! Clez has brain… Clez just no like using brain… hehe. Ooh, an update? Yes please. Thanks for the review.
Eeep… so much shout outs! Sorry about that… on with the show!
With one last glance down at Skinner, Tom was forced to walk away, the knife still pressing threateningly against his neck. He knew better than to struggle or do anything else that might cause him to get his throat slit… it would be rather counterproductive.
Reed walked directly behind him, giving him a 'helpful' – and rather irritating – shove in the back every few seconds to perhaps remind him of his presence. Tom wanted to lash out at the other man, to try and free himself, but the proximity of the knife to his throat reminded him that he should refrain.
He was trying to kill me a minute ago… why not now? Why the change of tactic?
Tom couldn't understand why the man was now avoiding killing him when he had ample oppurtunity. All he had to do was reposition the knife, and… Tom quickly realised he should be thinking about something else. Like the bombs Skinner had planted…
They should have gone off by now… what's taking so long? He was hoping to use the oppurtunity – so long as he wasn't killed in the blast – to try and escape from Reed. He knew it carried a risk, but he had to try. Whatever Reed was planning, it couldn't be innocent. Tom wished he knew the intention, but he realised quickly that asking was going to get him nowhere favourable.
That was when he felt the shudder in the building, and then the resonating boom that echoed all around them in the corridor. The shaking reached them, just as the second bomb detonated, followed not long after by the third. The walls trembled as if in fright, and the structure around them creaked and heaved, chunks of stone dislodged and crashing down to the ground.
Unstable for only a moment, Tom took the oppurtunity, and rammed his elbow back into Reed, who was seemingly stunned by the bombs. The wind was knocked out of him audibly, and Tom moved to wriggle out from beneath the knife, even as Reed gripped Tom's left arm tightly, and rammed him against the wall partially, knife brushing against his throat again.
Reed's voice rasped down his ear, as he hissed, "Not smart, Yank." He wrenched Tom's arm upwards, and the American winced, setting his jaw afterwards, angry and slightly dejected. "I wouldn't try that again if I were you. Come on…" He yanked Tom away from the wall, the knife forever at his neck, firmly in place should he try anything. Now he had his arm gripped in addition, to keep him in line, and Tom had no choice but to obey, walking along in front of him, not fond of the idea of having his throat cut. The thought made him grimace.
At least I tried… there's that optimism again. Where do I get it all from?
It wasn't long before they came upon a short corridor, and Reed walked Tom down it, still gripping him tightly and threateningly. The corridor was almost void of light, and when they were walking down it, Tom thought he heard a voice as they neared the end.
"Do you ever get tired of being wrong?"
Moriarty… dammit, why didn't I realise what he was doing before? Tom understood now, even as Reed pushed him into the light, making him squint with the abruptness of the transition from shadow. He could see Quatermain pointing a gun on Moriarty, the hammer cocked, body tensed and ready, alert. Moriarty was turned in their direction, even as Reed forced Tom to stop, and gripped his wrist tighter, a silent signal for him to keep quiet and not say a word to alert the hunter.
Don't turn around, Quatermain… just don't turn around… just shoot the bastard, shoot him.
"Me," Moriarty persisted, holding his arms out to his sides slightly, cocky accent beginning to grate on the American's nerves, "the League… Skinner. Wrong." He held his golden Phantom's mask in one hand, and his 'box of tricks' in the other. Clearly, he had been moving to flee before Reed and Tom had entered the room.
"Wrong about your little American friend as well."
Tom saw the way Quatermain tensed even further, alarmed by the statement, and he closed his eyes, cursing Moriarty. Son of a… he knew that would work. Please don't turn around… please… But he already knew Quatermain would.
"Do you really think he's ready for action?" He looked up at the two silent arrivals, and Tom could have sworn there was a glint of triumph in Moriarty's eyes. "I think you've trained him about as well as you trained your son," Moriarty persisted, donning an almost thoughtful expression, knitting his brow and slowly raising the golden mask in front of Quatermain's face… a mirror. Quatermain stared into it, and Tom felt his heart increase in pace, knowing the hunter could probably see the reflection of the hostage situation behind him.
There was a brief moment where nothing happened, and Tom actually thought that Quatermain was going to take the oppurtunity to destroy Moriarty… something that might have ended with one very dead American on the other hand… and Tom wasn't sure how to feel about that.
But suddenly, Quatermain spun on his heel, aiming so quickly and letting off a precise shot that Tom forgot the skill of the other man, even as he felt the jerk in Reed's body. The knife relaxed from around his throat, and the American Agent ducked instinctively, bowing his body down, even as Reed slumped to the floor, shot in the head, the blade clattering down at his feet, useless.
… I don't believe it…
A gasp of a noise from behind him made him whirl, his hair in his face again, and a swell of horror settled in his being as he saw Quatermain grasping awkwardly for a large knife, lodged between his shoulder blades, the hilt slightly twisted. Moriarty had stabbed him, and was fleeing for an impressive crack in the wall.
With a growl, Tom ran to the edge of the slight balcony, and threw himself from it, landing with a roll, and running to the hole, even as Moriarty flung himself through it and out into the snowy air beyond. Tom poked his head through the hole, leaning out enough to see the man was wearing a sort of extra cloak, giving him buoyancy and lift, enabling him to glide like a bat down to the ground.
Without hesitation, Tom turned again, running back to where he had caught a glimpse of the elephant gun, and grabbing it up in his hands, hefting the weight without even taking note of it. He came up beside Quatermain, trying to tell himself all the while that the other man was fine, and that he could just shrug off the injury like before.
Don't be an idiot… look at him. He's hurt bad this time.
Quatermain pulled his spectacles from his pocket, the lenses shattered beyond repair, useless. The two locked gazes, tensely.
"Get 'im," Quatermain grumbled after a moment, and Tom gave a single nod, rushing back to the crack and leaning against the cold stone for support, to help him heft the rifle to his shoulder and balance.
Tom sighted down the barrel of the heavy gun, and saw the retreating form of Moriarty, feeling the sinking sensation in his stomach at a realisation that hit him, even as snow started to settle on his hair. He turned his head back to Quatermain, who was now rather unsteady on his feet, though Tom tried not to notice. "It's too far," he said, matter-of-factly.
Quatermain shook his head a little, probably as much as he could manage given the terrible injury in his back. "Take your time," he managed to say in encouragement. "You're ready."
So it was that Tom took the man's words to heart, and glanced back out through the sighting position in the wall, pulling back on the hammer with his thumb, cocking the rifle. He hefted it to his shoulder again, and sighted once more down the barrel, lining up and carefully assessing his shot.
Just in the background of his awareness, he thought he heard Quatermain's voice; "Take… your…" The last word failed to pass from the man, even as – unbeknownst to the American – he slumped down against some boxes and old broken furniture.
C'mon… you can do this. There's Moriarty… you've got the gun, and Quatermain believes in you. Just take your time with it… feel the shot… don't rush it. You can do this. He tried not to tell himself that if he missed, the world might go to war.
An eternity seemed to trickle past, with Moriarty running as fast as his legs would carry him over the snowfields, with Tom up in the vantage point in the cracked and leaning tower, the elephant gun held in his hands, the steadiest it had ever been, his green eyes never wavering.
He stared down the barrel, breathing slipping into a shallow rhythm as his concentration took over, and the shape of the gun seemed to become almost like an extension of his own body, something no longer alien, even as his finger crept along the trigger, feeling the cool metal.
Letting out an exhalation, Tom squeezed the trigger, feeling the bullet explode out of the barrel with a deafening crack like thunder. His eyes stayed on the back of the retreating man, until he saw Moriarty jolt and slump forward into the snow, his 'box of tricks' and mask skittering away, the former tumbling into an icy pool, sinking into the oblivion.
Tom felt the slight grin slip onto his face when he realised he had succeeded… he had actually done it!
I did it… he's dead… I killed him. Well, Huck… bet you never saw that coming.
Tom turned from his vantage point, bringing the gun down from his shoulder as he declared victoriously, "I got 'im!"
And then he stopped short, when he saw Quatermain slumped, wheezing and struggling for breath as he stared at Tom, almost smiling proudly. Tom felt the lump in his throat. Quatermain was dying…
"May this new century," he began, fighting to form each word and speak it clearly, "be yours, son… as the old one… was mine."
Even as Tom started forward, perhaps to help the hunter, Quatermain's body slumped completely to the side, and his head lolled as his last breath slipped out of him. His chest ceased to rise and fall, and he fell still.
Tom stopped, frozen in the spot by the realisation that his mentor and friend was dead… killed, saving him. Just like Huck…
No thoughts formed in his usually active mind as he stared at the body, snow falling gently and gracefully, almost peacefully, around his form. He lowered the butt of the elephant gun to the ground carefully, held in his right hand, left finding his pocket out of habit. Tom hung his head in respect, and felt the sadness grip him firmly.
He barely seemed to notice the footsteps approaching, and how long he stood there, simply staring down at the floor in a melancholy fashion, but when a hand landed on his arm, he looked up into the crystal blue eyes of Mina Harker. She was gazing at him inquisitively, but sadly, and then threw a glance over her shoulder to the other new occupants of the room.
Tom didn't speak; no words seemed to want to obey. Jekyll and Nemo were also in the room, and a handful of the latter's crew. Jekyll was wearing a thick coat now, his shirt and jacket ruined from the transformation into Hyde and back again.
The doctor moved slowly over to the body of Quatermain; as if he already knew the man was dead, and checked for a pulse, letting out a heavy, long sigh. Nemo came over, and the two exchanged quiet words.
Mina looked Tom in the eye again, and said one word, "M?"
Tom met her gaze, firmly, barely with any emotion at all, until he shifted his grip on Matilda, Quatermain's gun. "He's dead. I shot 'im."
The lazy, casual and dejected way in which he said it made the others realise that celebration was not in order. On top of the fact their leader had fallen in the battle, spirits were low, and Tom frowned. They had won… but paid dearly for it.
Without saying another word, Tom handed the gun to a sailor, and walked over to help Nemo and Jekyll with the transportation of Quatermain's body, ignoring the blood all over his wounded hand. He would deal with that later.
All the way back to the Nautilus, Tom was silent and withdrawn. He didn't even inquire what was to happen with Moriarty's body, and he would tell them all that he and Quatermain had learned later, when he had slept, perhaps… if he could even manage to sleep. He and Jekyll carried the hunter's body – wrapped carefully in cloth to protect it – between them on a kind of stretcher, covered once again in the thick, long coats and thermal boots. Tom had refused the offering of covering for his head and eyes, not bothered by it in the slightest. The blizzard from earlier was all but gone, and only a light layer of snow still fell from the white clouds above.
No matter how much he tried to remind himself of the victory, he couldn't feel it…
