A/N: Ok, so here doth be my second chapter. (Like my Shakespeare talk?) Again, constructive criticism welcome, but please don't be mean!
Skinner thrust his gloved hands into his coat pockets. He couldn't believe what he was hearing… Sanderson Reed was alive – how was anybody's guess – and he had access to M's weapons, and something far, far worse. Invisibility. Sanderson Reed was invisible, just like Skinner. "So much for keeping the franchise," he commented in his sarcastic-tinged Cockney accent.
Mina shot him a stern glance. "We've far bigger things to worry about than your career, Skinner."
Skinner raised a white-painted brow, but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to find himself on Mina's bad side, she'd been irritable since they arrived, and Skinner knew if he pushed his luck too much, he'd find himself on the wrong end of a pair of fangs.
Tom broke the silence, "We have to figure out where Reed is. Better yet, why he sent us this thing." He tapped a finger on the record.
"Well, obviously it didn't set off any bombs," Skinner said lightly. He was glad to have not been around for the first incident, and glad to have avoided a repeat performance.
Mina raised an eyebrow. "Obviously."
"You know," Skinner mused, ignoring Mina's remark. "He could be in this room right now, and we'd never know it."
"Skinner…" Now Tom was starting to sound irritated.
Skinner shrugged. "All I'm saying is it's bloody hard to hunt down a madman that we can't see. I should know – I gave the cops the slip quite a bit in the good ol' days." He chuckled.
"We might be able to see him," Jekyll said, "Under certain circumstances. Like…"
"Snow," Mina said sourly, recalling her encounter with Skinner in Mongolia. Skinner grinned mischievously. "You have to admit, it was funny… well, I enjoyed it."
Mina ignored him. "Maybe even rain," she suggested.
"Yeah," Tom sighed, "But Reed ain't stupid. He'll steer clear of anything that would blow his cover." His eyes turned again to the record. A million questions formed in his mind.
"Are you sure about that?" Skinner said. "He seems pretty stupid. If I were him, I wouldn't go telling everybody and their brother that I was back in business. I'd go about my business quietly, like a good invisible man."
"You? Quiet?"
Skinner glared a Mina through his shades. Her moodiness was catching. They would all be at each other's throats if they didn't pull together. After a year of trying to forget about M and world war, here it was again. Shoved back into their faces, and no Allan Quatermain to lead them. The position of leader had pretty much been left alone since Quatermain's death. They felt no urgent need to fill the position, except now they'd been caught off guard – leaderless and bickering.
Jekyll watched Skinner and Mina stare at each other in contempt. "Stop it, both of you," he said sharply. "The last thing we need right now is to fall apart. We have got to work together."
"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" The words escaped Skinner's mouth before he could stop them.
"Skinner, shut up!" Mina and Tom chorused.
"Arguing amongst ourselves will do us no good," Nemo said sternly. "I suggest we regroup in one half hour."
"Sounds good to me." Skinner swept up his hat and was out the door before anyone could stop him.
* * *
Skinner sighed, his breath visible in the chilly night air. They had all acted so childish, himself included. They'd all gotten to know each other like siblings, which was good except now they were bickering like siblings instead of working together. Tensions were high, that was plain, and their choice of location could not have helped Mina's mood much. He leaned against the cold bricks of the late Dorian Gray's home, and just let his mind wander.
He must have dozed, for the next thing he knew someone was prodding his chest, saying, "Sir? Are you all right? Sir?" Skinner snapped into wakefulness, batting away his tormenter like a bothersome insect. "I'm all right already!" He said, obviously peeved at the rude manner he'd been woken up. He shifted his glasses irritably, but when he laid eyes on his tormentor, he was taken aback. It was a young woman, a very pretty one. Even through his shades, she was fair, with long golden blond hair that fell around her shoulders. What struck Skinner as odd, though, was her wardrobe – her coat specifically. It was an incredibly thick, heavy winter coat lined with fur and extending down to the ground. 'Perhaps she's from someplace warm,' he reasoned. 'I don't much care for the cold myself.'
"I'm terribly sorry," she said. Her voice was a soft, beautiful alto. "But I thought you were dead. You weren't moving, and your skin, it's so white…"
It took Skinner a moment to realize she wasn't referring to his real skin, but to the cream he used on his face to make it visible. "Oh, that… it's just a cream…"
"Yes," the girl replied. "I figured that out." She held up a hand, her fingertips had the remnants of cream on them. "I am sorry, sir."
"Oh, s'ok. My name's Rodney, by the way, Rodney Skinner." He removed his hat and gave a lavish bow.
"I'm Cabrilyn," She said. "Just Cabrilyn."
Skinner raised a brow. "Cabrilyn? What sort of a name is Cabrilyn?"
"I don't know. What sort of grown man goes about wearing makeup?" Cabrilyn asked coolly.
"Ooh, touché. Now, what's a pretty thing like your self do…?" The remainder of Skinner's sentence was cut off by an eruption of shouts and gunfire from inside. "Oh, bloody hell!" Skinner quickly forgot Cabrilyn and wiped the cream from his face furiously. He discarded his coat, hat, glasses and gloves and made a mad dash for the door. Cabrilyn followed closely.
"You'd best stay out here," Skinner called over his shoulder. "Guard my coat or something."
Cabrilyn stopped in her tracks. "Guard his coat? Argh!" She waited until Skinner was out of sight, and then continued her pursuit muttering, "Guard his coat… some men!"