Author's Note: Well, I tried to get this one up as soon as possible, so I wouldn't get hate mail or death threats after making everyone's favourite American evil… is there a cure do you ask? Well… you shall hath to wait an see, shan't you? Bwahaha!
drowchild: Oh did he now? *feigns ignorance* Okay… who am I kidding? You saw what you saw…
LotRseer3350: Me? Kill Anise? Ne- wait… I did that before, didn't I? *scratches head* Hmm…
Graymoon74: Um… the drugs all come from the chemist? Just trying to find new ways to mentally torture my readers too, Bwahaha! Hence the cruelty to Anise, heehee. Didn't see that coming did you? *wink*
Sethoz: Hmm… methinks I shocked you. Excellent! Painful way… oh dear. Don't want to be killed in a painful way… that would be… painful.
Raven Silvers: *is shaken* Ah! Ack! Stop shaking me! My brain – what little I have left – will be reduced to mushy nothingness! I need my brain!
funyun: If you imagine the frame like an H shape, you've pretty much got it, but the crossbar is higher up *wink*.
The scent was fading quickly with the wind, and so Mina had taken to jogging once they had cleared the other side of the woods, breaking into the streets of New York, trying desperately to keep a hold on her tracking of Agent Sawyer. He could be in grave danger, she knew, and she would never be able to forgive herself should something happen to him… whatever that something may be. She already felt guilty for allowing a rift to grow between them, all because of their instincts. Vampires and werewolves had never shared a peaceful existence, but she should never have allowed that to affect their working relationship… not to mention their friendship. She just hoped, if everything turned out in their favour in the end, that they would be able to return to some semblance of normalcy.
Behind her were the rest of the League, what remained of them anyway: Allan Quatermain, carrying his prized elephant gun, no doubt fully loaded with spares at the ready; Rodney Skinner, willing to shed his visibility aids at any moment in order to be of use; Captain Nemo, his scabbard clinking lightly, and a flare gun at his belt – he had just signalled for assistance, and assured the League he was wearing some sort of tracking device in order to aid their arrival; and finally, Dr. Jekyll, carrying one or two vials of his formula on his person should Hyde be needed… which he probably would quite soon.
They pushed out of the shadows, and into a long street, devoid of life, save for something only Mina could smell clearly… lookouts, up on the rooftops. Without warning, she burst into a cloud of bats, squeaking and screeching, and spiralled up and away, headed for the perches where the men were hidden. They could not hide from her.
The League watched her go, silent in their curiousity and confusion, knowing better than to emerge from their concealment any more than they already had, and even shuffled back a little, as the first choked scream erupted out of the quiet, followed by the sickening thud as the body slammed into the paving.
A second scream echoed out not long after… and then a third. There was no fourth; instead, a body flew off of the rafters, only to be caught at the last second by an ethereal Mina Harker. She let him fall the last few inches, with a dull thud, and then placed her foot on his chest to stop him from retreating, her eyes a blood red. Her bats sank back into her, disappearing with little chatters.
"What do you want?" the man yelped in an American accent, trying to wriggle out from under the strong vampire, astounded that he could not. He tried harder, but ceased when Mina applied pressure. He winced, and looked at the other members of the League as they melted out of the shadows. There was evident fear in his wide eyes.
"Agent Sawyer… where is he?" Mina demanded, stabbing the heel of her boot a little firmer into the man's chest, and he gave a small yelp.
"I don't know who-"
She repeated the action, and growled, "He came this way not long ago. Where is he?"
The man opened his mouth to speak, and hesitated, before closing it firmly and opting for silence. Mina's growl escalated and rumbled in her throat, before she reached down with both hands, releasing her foot from his chest, and picked him up, spinning him around and slamming him forcefully against the wall. She had – in the blink of an eye – retrieved one of her daggers from its sheath and pressed it against the skin on the man's throat.
"What good do you think silence will bring you?" Mina hissed, pressing the dagger against his skin just enough so that a trickle of blood seeped from a minor cut. "Do you think it will bring mercy? If you do, sir, then you are sadly mistaken."
"Mrs. Harker…"
"Be quiet, Mr. Quatermain," she snapped. "I am in no mood for time wasting." She brought the man away from the wall, just so she could ram him against it again, and he gave a sharp cry as his back collided with stunning force. "Now, give me the answers I desire. You do not wish to know the alternative."
The man hesitated again, but when she growled once more, her eyes still a vivid crimson, he blurted, "All right! The building at the end of the street! He went in there!"
"How long ago?" she pressed, persistently.
"About half an hour ago."
Have I really been tracking him that long? Good god, too long… we might be too late. She regarded the man, and then put her dagger away, before throwing a glance in the direction of the other members of the team. They seemed to understand, and Jekyll appeared a little queasy. Skinner twisted away casually, and Quatermain and Nemo turned to converse.
"What are you going to do with me?" the man asked, his voice shaking and unsteady.
In response, Mina pulled the man forward, and tore into him using her fangs, drawing the blood from his veins, even as he choked and gargled, struggling futilely against her. She gripped him tightly, sucking the life out of him and into herself, feeling it give her strength and satisfy her lust, before she felt him drained, and dropped him casually, licking her lips and wiping her face delicately with her fingertips. She turned her head to the others, seeing them only then turning back to face her.
"All finished?" Skinner asked with a cocky tilt of the head. He had his hands in his pockets, and had raised an eyebrow. Mina rolled her eyes, and answered his rhetorical question by heading off for the building they had been directed to. The others followed behind her, and Quatermain came up to her side, matching her stride for stride, seemingly having no difficult in doing so.
"Do you really believe him?" the hunter inquired, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
Mina didn't have time for second-guessing. Their friend and companion could be in serious danger, and his very mentor was questioning information pertaining to his whereabouts. "Yes, Mr. Quatermain, I do. I have no choice but to believe him if I wish to save Agent Sawyer."
"And you don't think this might be a trap?"
"Not a very well planned one if it is," Mina revealed, arching a brow and glancing to her associate with an almost bored expression. "And even if it is… I plan to retrieve Tom Sawyer by any means necessary… and I hope you all feel the same, otherwise there is no point even coming."
She pushed on faster, overtaking Quatermain without trouble, leaving him behind with his confusion.
"Go see what's taking them so long."
Mannings looked terrified, eyes wide, and perspiring, as he stammered and finally managed to utter, "Sir?"
Sebastian threw him an impatient narrow-eyed glare. He hated repeating himself. It was right up at the top of his list along with ignorance and disobedience. He sighed dramatically and said, "Mannings, get your stupid, lazy ass out the door and find out what's taking my soldiers so long!"
Mannings made a small, pathetic noise, and leapt into action, scampering for the door like a frightened animal with his tail between his legs. Sebastian grimaced at the sight, and shook his head, wondering why he had ever employed the man. Before Mannings could even grab the handle on the door, it turned and almost swung into his face. He leapt back with a squeak, and practically fled at the sight of the four figures entering the room.
First came Falx, followed by Gladius, with Lacertus right behind him. And bringing up the rear was Exuro, wearing a dark expression that only matched the intensity of black in his clothing. Black shirt, black pants, black boots and a duster to top it all off, reaching down to his ankles, large but not cumbersome by any means. He only matched the others, save for his blonde hair, which singled him out… it bothered Sebastian very little. He smiled at the sight of the completed team, and felt the contentment settle within him at the realisation that he could continue with his plans any time he chose now. The four stood in a line, the two alphas in the centre, with the younger pair on the outside of them. They stood in identical stances, never wavering in their posture, and looked at him for a moment, before lowering their eyes in submission.
Sebastian looked to Edmunds, who was also smiling broadly, triumphant and relieved the team had finally been completed so definitely. All they needed to do was ensure they kept them docile and dosed, and they wouldn't have any problems. The supply of the drug wasn't a problem, so long as their funding didn't dry up… which wasn't an issue, considering most of the money came out of Sebastian's own pocket anyway.
Suddenly, another man – one of the closer guards – entered the room unannounced, much to the annoyance of the four gathered werewolves, who growled in unison, a most chilling – and somewhat exciting – sound, narrowing their eyes at the intruder. The man drew back from them slightly, and fumbled, saying, "Sir… we have a problem."
Gladius perked up at the prospect of action, and Sebastian almost smiled at the enthusiasm. The man hadn't been much different in the past, as a human… so eager and ready to throw himself into the fray. It was why he had been a prime candidate, and to boot, he had given himself up willingly, without a fight.
"What kind of problem? Don't be vague with me." Sebastian's tone was threatening, and the man recognised this, nodding abruptly.
"We seem to have some visitors, sir."
At this, Exuro's head cocked to one side, intrigued. His green eyes flitted to Sebastian, and a somewhat wicked smile worked its way onto his young face. It actually warmed Sebastian a little, to see the cruelty in that expression. It was working better than he could have hoped.
"Yes…?"
"They've come to get him back, sir… like you said they might," the man explained, and Sebastian nodded, dismissing him, telling him curtly to hold them off as long as they could. The man acknowledged, and departed without hesitation, perhaps glad to be rid of the company of the four lycanthropes.
Sebastian turned his head to his team and said, "You know what to do. They're not to leave the building again, understood?"
Gladius smiled wickedly, and nodded once, with a stern, "Yes, sir." He turned, along with Falx, and left the room, Lacertus and Exuro right behind them. Sebastian watched them depart, sighing contently, and seated himself in his leather chair and grinning at Edmunds, who laughed.
"I pity them, Edmunds," he said with a dry chuckle of his own, "I really do."
Only one thought shot through Skinner's mind as they burst into the building named as their target, and it went something like, I wish I had a gun! Bullets exploded from the weapons of the two guards on duty inside the foyer – bland as it was – and Skinner gave a slight yelp, tossing himself back out of the doorway and shedding his coat and trying to clean his face. Jekyll dropped back out after him, and offered his handkerchief, which the thief took gratefully, and used recklessly to remove the visibility aids. Jekyll quickly removed a small vial from inside his jacket, the first of roughly three secreted away – the others being in his trouser pockets for safekeeping – and popped the small cork, before downing its contents. After tossing the glass bottle aside with a tinkle of shattered glass, Jekyll reached up and freed the restraints of a tight collar.
Skinner averted his eyes as the doctor began to undergo the hideous transformation, trying to shut out the noises of breaking and contorting bone and cartilage, and instead focusing on the noises from inside the room. The amount of gunfire signalled that more guards had arrived.
When the gunfire only continued, interrupted sporadically by the resonating boom of the elephant gun, and a man's scream, Skinner surmised Mina and Quatermain were faring well… but they needed help, and soon enough, Hyde stamped up next to him, grunting in anticipation. Skinner glanced up, wondering whether the man could really see him. He had often mused on the subject.
"Shall we?" he offered, and Hyde's response was a rather manic grin, with a glint in his small eyes, before he launched himself into the action. Skinner raised a brow, shrugged, and ducked into the room as well. It was chaos in its simplest form. Blood was spilled in all directions, with bodies riddled with bullets and their throats punctured. A wall of bats swirled around eerily, screeching and swarming from one man to the next. Skinner didn't know what to do with himself, so he sidled up to Allan, who was letting off precise, calculated shows with the rifle, and muttered, "Mind if I borrow that big knife of yours?"
Quatermain did not respond, simply nodded, and Skinner grinned before removing the bowie knife from the belt carefully, and launching himself at the first man, wondering just where it was that Nemo had gotten to…
The Indian captain had separated himself from the group at the last minute, in order to wait for his crewmen, who were arriving as he glanced over his shoulder at the explosion of gunfire from in the building. Mrs. Harker had seen him leave, and had nodded her head in understanding as to his delay, trusting him to return with the aid he always seemed to provide. The sailors he had been waiting for came around the end of the street, carrying some equipment for the task in their hands, between them. They jogged up to him, and the most senior of them passed him a weapon he had deemed worthy of retrieval from storage when everything had begun to take a supernatural turn.
He held the harpoon gun in his hands, and accustomed himself to the weight, before turning and heading back to the building with his men in tow. Once inside the building, Nemo had decided he would try and locate Agent Sawyer and the others quickly, and try to free them.
They entered the building with care, coming upon a sight that was slowly starting to become familiar to Nemo. Hyde was swinging his tree-trunk limbs in each direction to slam his enemies away or into the ground. Allan Quatermain was calculating exact shots into vulnerable areas on his distant opponents, slamming the stock of the rifle into the face of any who ventured closer. Mina Harker was swooping from victim to victim, tearing their throats away or simply snapping their necks before they could turn their guns upon her. And finally, a floating bowie knife dispatched of stragglers, those who were too stupid or too clumsy not to notice the disembodied weapon swinging towards them for a killing blow.
Nemo kicked out at a man who seemed willing to try his chances with the newcomers, and the loyal crew around him fired their own bullets into the fray, careful with their shots. The last thing they wanted or needed was to wound one of their own.
Needless to say, it wasn't long before there were bodies littering the floor, and the League – along with Nemo's men – stood stoically triumphant, before pressing to the door that the men had been guarding, and had subsequently surged from.
Sharing a prepared glance, the League approached it.
Amidst the darkened corridors down in the lower levels of the headquarters for Sebastian Woods' operation, four nightmarish figures lurked, looming and skulking in the shadows and recesses where not even the wan light of the nearby rooms dare venture. They could smell and sense one another… and the approaching figures. If it had been at all possible, they would have grinned in their lupine forms, teeth bared in humoured visages.
Falx, Gladius, Lacertus and Exuro paced and waited… eager for their prey and their victims to draw foolishly closer… ever closer. Little did they know their own dooms awaited them.
Exuro's ears perked up. He knew that smell… one of them was drawing closer. His shoulders bristled in anticipation, his hackles rising in a most unusual, eager way, spikes of black fur shifting upwards from the mass and shaking for a moment as if alive. He growled a slight chuckling noise, and narrowed his silver, liquid eyes, pools of hidden malice, glinting in the darkness as the unawares crewman stumbled ever closer.
They had split up when reaching the bottom of the spiralled staircase leading down into an underground level of the building, and Mina Harker had taken the time to ensure everyone knew to be careful. Hyde and Skinner had gone off down one corridor, Mrs. Harker and Quatermain down another… and Nemo and some of his crew down the last. They branched off to investigate rooms as they went, the number slowly dwindling as the sailors found new areas to investigate.
Captain Nemo could sense the danger in the area, his vast experience teaching him caution and telling him that a steady pace was called for. There was something waiting in the darkness… he knew it; could feel it in his very bones, and his weathered hands rested readily on the appropriate areas of his harpoon gun. Some would call the weapon extreme… he called it prepared.
They had noticed the obvious lack of light when first reaching the level, and had deemed it necessary to be extra careful… it was clearly intentional. They were supposed to be misled by the lack of illumination, but Captain Nemo – as adept at using his initiative as he was – had other ideas. In his belt was his flare gun, which was perfect for lighting up the darkness.
That was when he heard the abrupt cry… he recognised the strangled voice. It was one of his men, in danger, obviously, and there was no hesitation as Nemo sprang into action, his feet carrying him swiftly and agilely along the ground, around a few bends, until he saw the glinting of feral eyes… narrowed pools of liquid silver.
And the worst thing was that he recognised them, even if he had only seen them on one or two occassions. A growl rumbled out of the darkness, the massive shadow bristling in preparation as Nemo retrieved the flare gun from his belt, and aimed upward at an angle, to illuminate the misleading shadow.
He pulled the trigger, and the flare shot out of the barrel, skittering along the ceiling, even as the large werewolf ducked instinctively, the flame-like appearance of the projectile alarming to the creature. The ears flattened, and Nemo got a good look at the beast… his heart sank as he recognised it in its entirety. Blood dripped disgustingly from its bared fangs and maw, its tongue curled slightly as if to brush the roof of its mouth, almost hungrily. Below the crouched, predatory form was the torn body of one of Nemo's men, the throat all but destroyed. Nemo quickly gave a silent prayer for the man, and raised the harpoon gun readily, should the need arise.
The werewolf that was a – clearly – manipulated Tom Sawyer – either that or he was so crazed and confused that he had lost control – snarled loudly at the intrusion, and readied its body for a pounce. After only a moment's hesitation, a loud bellow exploded from its dripping maw, and the eyes flashed dangerously.
Tom Sawyer pounced.