Disclaimer: Here we go, the next part of 'The Bodyguard', hope you all enjoy. This is set about four months after the movie. I don't own LXG, Tom Sawyer, Mina Hawker, Skinner, Captain Nemo, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde or anything else used in the fic, except Smith and Mr. Big.
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed.
Cynthia, Ruby of the Rose:- I'm glad you liked the last part, I hope this one keeps your interest.
Naitriab:- I loved the image at the end of the last part as well. No more nicked bits? That's good... not that I would do anything like that...
Clez:- *ducks* no! Don't explode!
Roz:- I know, you're up-dates have been... absent. Like that SW fic you keep promising me... ;)
JC6:- Glad you're enjoying it.
Angel32:- Of course, I'm still evil with the cliffhangers.
Capt.Cow:- And more you shall have.
ScifiRogue:- If I told you what happened to Tom and Jekyll then the plot would be wrecked. :)
OtRseer3350:- Save Tom? Who says I do anything like that?
Graymoon74:- Well, what else would me and Clez do? Glad you're loving this, and yes, we will slowly learn more about Smith.
The Bodyguard
~~~
Part Three:- One Day's Grace.
~~~
Smith could feel his wound healing as he fled from the League. The skin was growing back at a alarmingly fast rate. It got faster as Smith grew older.
Maybe growing older was the wrong term. Smith didn't get an older. He couldn't. To age was beyond him, he would always remain a 30 year old man, with foreign looks, commonly associated with the regions of the Middle East - places such as Pakistan, Egypt, Iran and others.
His healing abilities increased the longer Smith existed in this world. That was better, that described Smith.
All this passed through Smith's mind as he made the leap over the water and into the back of his boat. He turned and gave the League a little wave, to show that he was okay, and that he would always be okay, no matter what they did.
As the League faded from view, Smith moved below deck, to where the remains of his crew waited. He moved through the depleted ranks, silently counting the gaps.
Smith has underestimated the League - it was a mistake he would not repeat. But then he hadn't reckoned on them finding him so soon. It was all because of that woman, that the League had showed up at all, his sailors would have been able to take down the beast that was Hyde eventually.
"Where is the boy?" Smith asked. The sailors all exchanged glances.
"Umm... Sir... he was never brought aboard." one of his men said, sweating with fear. Smith stalked towards the cowering sailor, murderous intent in his eyes. With a lightning fast move, Smith grabbed the man by the neck and began to squeeze. The tiny bones in the sailors neck began to brake, as he screamed from the sheer pain.
Suddenly Smith dropped the man to the ground, who instantly began to kiss Smith's feet, grateful beyond measure that he had been spared for some - as yet - unknown reason. Smith was staring at the ranks of sailors, a unreadable expression on his Middle Eastern features.
"Cris." He said calmly. The sailors in front of him moved to the side of the room, much like the Red Sea split down the middle in front of the Israelites. The sailor called Cris began to sweat as he realized all of Smith's rage was now fixed on him.
"You were one of the sailors I had on the jetty with me. You were one of the sailors who fled when the League approached. So, I have to ask myself this. Why did you return to this place?" Smith asked. Cris gulped and looked first right, then left. None of the other men would meet his gaze.
"Leave us. Cris and I need to... talk." Smith suddenly commended. All of the blood drained from every sailor's face when they heard this command. They began to scatter, the braver shooting Cris a look of sympathy. Cris himself, looked as if he was about to pass out from sheer fear.
"And make sure we arrive at Mr. Big's place by dawn!" Smith yelled after the retreating men. As the last men left the room, the door clanged shut, locking Smith and Cris in the room. Cris was now literally shaking. He had heard of this room and what happens when you are left alone with Smith - though, of course, he had only heard rumors. No one who was locked in here with Smith ever lived to tell the tale.
"Open the box." Smith said coldly, pointing to a large lead box in the corner of the room. Cris slowly opened the box, cringing as he did so, expecting the worst. The lid swung backwards, to revel weapon after weapon.
Cris could feel him mouth fall open in shock. In a daze he saw Smith reach pass him and take out two arm gauntlets, a curved blade on each. In his daze, his mind began to wander onto other subjects - namely, why was Smith called Smith? It was an English name through and through and there was nothing English about the man. Smith was in fact, an Egyptian.
"You can use any weapons in that box." Smith said, interrupting the sailor's thoughts. "This is a fight to the death." He said, tying the gauntlets onto his arms, testing how sharp the blades were. Cris reached in and pulled out some throwing knives and a sword.
"B-but you can't be killed." Cris stuttered. "How can it be a fight to the death?"
"I didn't say it was a fight to my death." Smith said with a wolfish smirk. He put his arms in a fighting stance. A thought seemed to occur to him.
"You have been very loyal to me and to our Boss..."
"Th-that's right Sir!" Cris said, eagerly clinging onto any hope. Smith rubbed his chin with one of his hands.
"Very well. If you manage to inflict an injury on me that would be fatal to a normal man, then you shall live." Smith said, before making a parry forward with one of his gauntlets. The Egyptian fought skillfully, using his blades to both attack and defend. Cris was not as well taught in the skills of the sword but he managed to parry the thrusts sent his way.
With a flick of his wrist he threw one of the knives, showing his accuracy and skill. It embedded itself in Smith's arm, which was raised at the last moment. With his skill of throwing knives, it was clear why he had been picked to take out Merl.
"Very good." Smith said, before attacking with more vigor. The blades were coming at Cris faster now, blurring so it was hard to tell where they were. In a panic Cris threw the other two throwing knives. Smith simply blocked them with his own blades, making them bounce harmlessly off onto the ground.
"Please..." Cris begged, holding the sword with both hands. "I've done everything you ever asked! I killed Merl, I fought Mr. Hyde." He finished. Smith snarled and lunged forward again, the bloodlust aroused in him. This time he managed to cut Cris across the belly. It was just a shallow cut, but very painful. The pain alone made Cris drop his sword.
Smith clanged his two blades together and rammed Cris, sending him to the floor. As the sailor hit it, he knew death was coming to claim him. His one wish was that he would die quickly.
Cris looked up - right into the true face of Smith and screamed.
His screams lasted long into the night.
~~~
Smith entered the darkened room, none of his normal arrogance present on his face. It had been said of Smith, that he feared no living man, except one. The one he was about to talk to.
His Boss.
Mr. Big. Like Smith himself, 'Mr. Big' was not his true name but one chosen by him, to convey what he was. Big. The biggest. The very air around Mr. Big stank of money and corruption. Mr. Big was of the opinion that he could buy anyone he wanted and in most cases he was right.
"Well?" Mr. Big asked, his whole body shrouded in the shadows of the room. "Where is he?"
"I-I don't know... we lost him." Smith said, bowing his head. There was little doubt in Smith's mind that Mr. Big knew this already, he seemed to have a knack for knowing everything.
"Now, that is a pity." Mr. Big drawled. He began to finger a ring on the third finger of his left hand. "We need him for the ritual."
"I'll find him Boss." Smith promised.
"You better." Mr. Big said, his voice casual. "Don't forget where you came from or why you are here. You have one day to find out where the boy is and plan accordingly. If you do not have more positive news by them, then I will use you in the ceremony."
Smith looked up at Mr. Big for a fleeting instant, his expression torn between fear and relief.
"Thank you Boss." he said, walking out of the room backwards, being careful not to turn his back on him. Outside the room he breathed a sigh of relief.
He had been given a second chance, something that would never happen again. He had been given one day's grace. He was not going to waste it.
Smith strode forward, back to his boat, barking out orders as he did so. Soon, very soon, he would know where Sawyer was - after all, all he had to do was find the League.
~~~
Nemo paced up and down the corridor. Every few moments he would give the closed wooden door a look before carrying on with his pacing. Mina had been treating Dr. Jekyll inside that room for nearly a hour and Nemo was getting impatient.
He wanted to know how Jekyll was and if he knew where Sawyer was. Nemo has sent out his sailors to search the city while he waited. So far, none had returned with any good news.
Skinner's hat and coat floated towards him.
"So mate, let's see if I've got this straight. Sawyer is missing, Jekyll is ill and we have some guy out there who has this nifty party trick. You kill him, but he doesn't die. That right?"
"That is correct Skinner." Nemo answered a serious look on his face.
"Well, that's just dandy." Skinner muttered, watching Nemo as the later began to pace again. The invisible man rolled his eyes - a futile gesture as no one could see him, but it made him feel better anyway.
The door gave a creak of protest as it was pushed open. Mina emerged from behind it, looking tired and worn.
"I have treated his wound." She said softly. "I have done my best to remove the drugs in his body, he had over three times the normal amount. I was lucky there." Mina hesitated and looked back to the room.
"I am no Doctor. I have treated him as best I could, but I don't know when he will wake or if his shoulder will be infected." She closed her eyes briefly, the memory of the tangy scent of Henry Jekyll's blood still fresh in her mind.
"I am sure you have done the best you could do." Nemo said.
"Sure you didn't take a bite or two out of him?" Skinner joked. Mina's eyes flashed red for a moment and a low growl escaped from her throat. Nemo looked startled. It was impossible to tell what Skinner was thinking as he wasn't wearing his grease paint.
"That was not courteous." Mina said shortly. "Has there been any news of Tom Sawyer?" she asked, turning to face Nemo, her eyes human again.
"As yet, none Madam Mina. I fear that the one person who knows where he is, is currently trapped inside the sleeping mind of Dr. Jekyll." Nemo said.
"You mean we are going to have to ask nice, shy retiring Edward Hyde what happened to the kid?" Skinner asked in disbelief.
"I do not think it will come to that. Hopefully Dr. Jekyll will be able to answer out questions." Mina said. Skinner's coat began to float off.
"Well, while we wait, I think I'll have a whisky." he said cheerfully. Mina sighed and walked off as well, leaving the door to Jekyll's sick room, slightly ajar.
Nemo walked off as well, intent on offering a prayer to Kali before checking to see how his sailors had done. It was impossible to believe that Tom Sawyer was alive in this city and yet, his sailors, who knew Tom, were unable to locate him.
Nemo stood perfectly still, his mind replaying his last thought.
//impossible to believe that Tom Sawyer was alive and yet, his sailors, who knew Tom, were unable to locate him... impossible to believe... impossible to believe Tom Sawyer was still alive...\\
"Impossible..." Nemo whispered, walking again, refusing to entrain that thought any longer. Tom Sawyer was alive, had to be alive.
The League wouldn't let it be any other way.
TBC...
There we have it. For anyone who wants to know what happens to Tom, well keep an eye out for the next part which will revel all. Okay, not all, but some.
Please, please leave a review.
~Sethoz
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed.
Cynthia, Ruby of the Rose:- I'm glad you liked the last part, I hope this one keeps your interest.
Naitriab:- I loved the image at the end of the last part as well. No more nicked bits? That's good... not that I would do anything like that...
Clez:- *ducks* no! Don't explode!
Roz:- I know, you're up-dates have been... absent. Like that SW fic you keep promising me... ;)
JC6:- Glad you're enjoying it.
Angel32:- Of course, I'm still evil with the cliffhangers.
Capt.Cow:- And more you shall have.
ScifiRogue:- If I told you what happened to Tom and Jekyll then the plot would be wrecked. :)
OtRseer3350:- Save Tom? Who says I do anything like that?
Graymoon74:- Well, what else would me and Clez do? Glad you're loving this, and yes, we will slowly learn more about Smith.
The Bodyguard
~~~
Part Three:- One Day's Grace.
~~~
Smith could feel his wound healing as he fled from the League. The skin was growing back at a alarmingly fast rate. It got faster as Smith grew older.
Maybe growing older was the wrong term. Smith didn't get an older. He couldn't. To age was beyond him, he would always remain a 30 year old man, with foreign looks, commonly associated with the regions of the Middle East - places such as Pakistan, Egypt, Iran and others.
His healing abilities increased the longer Smith existed in this world. That was better, that described Smith.
All this passed through Smith's mind as he made the leap over the water and into the back of his boat. He turned and gave the League a little wave, to show that he was okay, and that he would always be okay, no matter what they did.
As the League faded from view, Smith moved below deck, to where the remains of his crew waited. He moved through the depleted ranks, silently counting the gaps.
Smith has underestimated the League - it was a mistake he would not repeat. But then he hadn't reckoned on them finding him so soon. It was all because of that woman, that the League had showed up at all, his sailors would have been able to take down the beast that was Hyde eventually.
"Where is the boy?" Smith asked. The sailors all exchanged glances.
"Umm... Sir... he was never brought aboard." one of his men said, sweating with fear. Smith stalked towards the cowering sailor, murderous intent in his eyes. With a lightning fast move, Smith grabbed the man by the neck and began to squeeze. The tiny bones in the sailors neck began to brake, as he screamed from the sheer pain.
Suddenly Smith dropped the man to the ground, who instantly began to kiss Smith's feet, grateful beyond measure that he had been spared for some - as yet - unknown reason. Smith was staring at the ranks of sailors, a unreadable expression on his Middle Eastern features.
"Cris." He said calmly. The sailors in front of him moved to the side of the room, much like the Red Sea split down the middle in front of the Israelites. The sailor called Cris began to sweat as he realized all of Smith's rage was now fixed on him.
"You were one of the sailors I had on the jetty with me. You were one of the sailors who fled when the League approached. So, I have to ask myself this. Why did you return to this place?" Smith asked. Cris gulped and looked first right, then left. None of the other men would meet his gaze.
"Leave us. Cris and I need to... talk." Smith suddenly commended. All of the blood drained from every sailor's face when they heard this command. They began to scatter, the braver shooting Cris a look of sympathy. Cris himself, looked as if he was about to pass out from sheer fear.
"And make sure we arrive at Mr. Big's place by dawn!" Smith yelled after the retreating men. As the last men left the room, the door clanged shut, locking Smith and Cris in the room. Cris was now literally shaking. He had heard of this room and what happens when you are left alone with Smith - though, of course, he had only heard rumors. No one who was locked in here with Smith ever lived to tell the tale.
"Open the box." Smith said coldly, pointing to a large lead box in the corner of the room. Cris slowly opened the box, cringing as he did so, expecting the worst. The lid swung backwards, to revel weapon after weapon.
Cris could feel him mouth fall open in shock. In a daze he saw Smith reach pass him and take out two arm gauntlets, a curved blade on each. In his daze, his mind began to wander onto other subjects - namely, why was Smith called Smith? It was an English name through and through and there was nothing English about the man. Smith was in fact, an Egyptian.
"You can use any weapons in that box." Smith said, interrupting the sailor's thoughts. "This is a fight to the death." He said, tying the gauntlets onto his arms, testing how sharp the blades were. Cris reached in and pulled out some throwing knives and a sword.
"B-but you can't be killed." Cris stuttered. "How can it be a fight to the death?"
"I didn't say it was a fight to my death." Smith said with a wolfish smirk. He put his arms in a fighting stance. A thought seemed to occur to him.
"You have been very loyal to me and to our Boss..."
"Th-that's right Sir!" Cris said, eagerly clinging onto any hope. Smith rubbed his chin with one of his hands.
"Very well. If you manage to inflict an injury on me that would be fatal to a normal man, then you shall live." Smith said, before making a parry forward with one of his gauntlets. The Egyptian fought skillfully, using his blades to both attack and defend. Cris was not as well taught in the skills of the sword but he managed to parry the thrusts sent his way.
With a flick of his wrist he threw one of the knives, showing his accuracy and skill. It embedded itself in Smith's arm, which was raised at the last moment. With his skill of throwing knives, it was clear why he had been picked to take out Merl.
"Very good." Smith said, before attacking with more vigor. The blades were coming at Cris faster now, blurring so it was hard to tell where they were. In a panic Cris threw the other two throwing knives. Smith simply blocked them with his own blades, making them bounce harmlessly off onto the ground.
"Please..." Cris begged, holding the sword with both hands. "I've done everything you ever asked! I killed Merl, I fought Mr. Hyde." He finished. Smith snarled and lunged forward again, the bloodlust aroused in him. This time he managed to cut Cris across the belly. It was just a shallow cut, but very painful. The pain alone made Cris drop his sword.
Smith clanged his two blades together and rammed Cris, sending him to the floor. As the sailor hit it, he knew death was coming to claim him. His one wish was that he would die quickly.
Cris looked up - right into the true face of Smith and screamed.
His screams lasted long into the night.
~~~
Smith entered the darkened room, none of his normal arrogance present on his face. It had been said of Smith, that he feared no living man, except one. The one he was about to talk to.
His Boss.
Mr. Big. Like Smith himself, 'Mr. Big' was not his true name but one chosen by him, to convey what he was. Big. The biggest. The very air around Mr. Big stank of money and corruption. Mr. Big was of the opinion that he could buy anyone he wanted and in most cases he was right.
"Well?" Mr. Big asked, his whole body shrouded in the shadows of the room. "Where is he?"
"I-I don't know... we lost him." Smith said, bowing his head. There was little doubt in Smith's mind that Mr. Big knew this already, he seemed to have a knack for knowing everything.
"Now, that is a pity." Mr. Big drawled. He began to finger a ring on the third finger of his left hand. "We need him for the ritual."
"I'll find him Boss." Smith promised.
"You better." Mr. Big said, his voice casual. "Don't forget where you came from or why you are here. You have one day to find out where the boy is and plan accordingly. If you do not have more positive news by them, then I will use you in the ceremony."
Smith looked up at Mr. Big for a fleeting instant, his expression torn between fear and relief.
"Thank you Boss." he said, walking out of the room backwards, being careful not to turn his back on him. Outside the room he breathed a sigh of relief.
He had been given a second chance, something that would never happen again. He had been given one day's grace. He was not going to waste it.
Smith strode forward, back to his boat, barking out orders as he did so. Soon, very soon, he would know where Sawyer was - after all, all he had to do was find the League.
~~~
Nemo paced up and down the corridor. Every few moments he would give the closed wooden door a look before carrying on with his pacing. Mina had been treating Dr. Jekyll inside that room for nearly a hour and Nemo was getting impatient.
He wanted to know how Jekyll was and if he knew where Sawyer was. Nemo has sent out his sailors to search the city while he waited. So far, none had returned with any good news.
Skinner's hat and coat floated towards him.
"So mate, let's see if I've got this straight. Sawyer is missing, Jekyll is ill and we have some guy out there who has this nifty party trick. You kill him, but he doesn't die. That right?"
"That is correct Skinner." Nemo answered a serious look on his face.
"Well, that's just dandy." Skinner muttered, watching Nemo as the later began to pace again. The invisible man rolled his eyes - a futile gesture as no one could see him, but it made him feel better anyway.
The door gave a creak of protest as it was pushed open. Mina emerged from behind it, looking tired and worn.
"I have treated his wound." She said softly. "I have done my best to remove the drugs in his body, he had over three times the normal amount. I was lucky there." Mina hesitated and looked back to the room.
"I am no Doctor. I have treated him as best I could, but I don't know when he will wake or if his shoulder will be infected." She closed her eyes briefly, the memory of the tangy scent of Henry Jekyll's blood still fresh in her mind.
"I am sure you have done the best you could do." Nemo said.
"Sure you didn't take a bite or two out of him?" Skinner joked. Mina's eyes flashed red for a moment and a low growl escaped from her throat. Nemo looked startled. It was impossible to tell what Skinner was thinking as he wasn't wearing his grease paint.
"That was not courteous." Mina said shortly. "Has there been any news of Tom Sawyer?" she asked, turning to face Nemo, her eyes human again.
"As yet, none Madam Mina. I fear that the one person who knows where he is, is currently trapped inside the sleeping mind of Dr. Jekyll." Nemo said.
"You mean we are going to have to ask nice, shy retiring Edward Hyde what happened to the kid?" Skinner asked in disbelief.
"I do not think it will come to that. Hopefully Dr. Jekyll will be able to answer out questions." Mina said. Skinner's coat began to float off.
"Well, while we wait, I think I'll have a whisky." he said cheerfully. Mina sighed and walked off as well, leaving the door to Jekyll's sick room, slightly ajar.
Nemo walked off as well, intent on offering a prayer to Kali before checking to see how his sailors had done. It was impossible to believe that Tom Sawyer was alive in this city and yet, his sailors, who knew Tom, were unable to locate him.
Nemo stood perfectly still, his mind replaying his last thought.
//impossible to believe that Tom Sawyer was alive and yet, his sailors, who knew Tom, were unable to locate him... impossible to believe... impossible to believe Tom Sawyer was still alive...\\
"Impossible..." Nemo whispered, walking again, refusing to entrain that thought any longer. Tom Sawyer was alive, had to be alive.
The League wouldn't let it be any other way.
TBC...
There we have it. For anyone who wants to know what happens to Tom, well keep an eye out for the next part which will revel all. Okay, not all, but some.
Please, please leave a review.
~Sethoz
