A/N: Oy! Finally! I have no spare time! I hate that. Anyway, onward!
Imzadi ~ You just gave me the greatest idea! It won't show up for a while, but thank-you in advance, and you'll know it when you see it!
elven-emma ~ I'm glad you find my Skinner humor amusing. :-P
The alley was dark and the smell of garbage wafted on the air. The only sound to be heard was that of a distant police siren, and the soft footsteps of the man as he made his way calmly down the alley. He did not particularly care to be in this horrid neighborhood, and wanted to find someplace more respectable where he could sit and think.
"Hey, nice suit!" A gruff voice called from behind him. The man ignored the remark and continued on – he did not wish to associate with a simple thug. "Just where do you think you're goin'?" The voice inquired. Soon, the man found himself surrounded by thugs. Now, there was no way he would get out of this alley without a fight, but he didn't much care – he could handle himself in a battle, even one of such unfair odds. After all, these were just lowly pickpockets and thugs; there was nothing remotely vampiric or demonic about them.
"You're a nice-looking boy," a thug said, "A nice-looking boy like you has got to have some money…"
"And what, pray tell, would make you think I would give any to the likes of you?" The man replied, his accented voice was soft and sure.
The thug tightened his fists. "You won't be so smart when I'm through with you!"
"Oh, really?" The man said, a dangerous look coming into his eyes. "And when I am through with you, you won't be breathing."
* * *
"… and here we are," Tom said, concluding the story of how the League ended up in L.A.
"Amazing," Wesley mused, "You were on a ship full of people, and you five were the only ones brought through the rift?"
Fred was leafing through the manila file-folder Angel had previously tossed on his desk. "Weird. I've never heard of a selective rift before… there's got to be something here…"
"Um, I may be new at this, but…" All eyes turned to the speaker – Jekyll. He'd been quiet since his little conversation with Hyde. "Perhaps we're here because we're… needed."
"Needed?" Angel glanced at his cronies, all gathered around his desk.
Gunn shrugged. "Could be." He replied.
Angel raised an eyebrow. After a moment of thought, he nodded.
Tom grinned. "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is at your service."
"Hey, Angel…"
Angel sighed at the slightly ditzy sounding voice coming from the speakerphone. He pressed the button and replied, "What is it Harmony?"
"I got some kind of memo, or something, about a rift-thingy…" Harmony said.
"Rift?" Angel exchanged glances with the League. "Bring it here."
A few moments later, Harmony entered. Clad in, what else, pink. Mina raised an eyebrow at the blond vampiress and her skimpy wardrobe. "Here you go boss," she said, handing Angel yet another manila file folder.
Angel snatched it from Harmony's perfectly manicured fingers and immediately began looking through it.
"Ugh, you're welcome," Harmony replied sarcastically and huffily left the office.
Wesley came over beside Angel and began reading over his shoulder. "Hmm," he said, "It appears we have multiple rifts. Lord only knows what's coming through."
"Right," Angel said. "We need to figure out how, and why this is happening."
"I've got some contacts I could try," Gunn offered.
"Then get on it," Angel replied. "Fred, get down to the lab, see what you can find. Wes, hit the books…"
"Ahem," Tom said, "What about us?"
"Oh, you. Right…"
* * *
The man surveyed his handiwork – the corpses of the thugs littered the alleyway. He issued a soft chuckle and pulled a white kerchief out of his pocket and took to cleaning his weapon of choice – a sword. Suddenly, a gun cocked behind him; followed shortly by, "Well, well. If it isn't Dorian Gray."
Dorian did not need to look up to know who'd spoken – he'd know that accent anywhere. "Ah, Mr. Quatermain," he replied, sheathing his sword once again in his cane. "Back from the dead I see."
"As are you," Quatermain mused, surveying the dead bodies covering the ground. "You've been busy."
"I have," Dorian said simply – he much preferred to let the scene speak for itself. He turned to face Quatermain and leaned nonchalantly on his cane.
"Do you know where we are?" Quatermain asked at length.
"No," Dorian replied airily. "I think 'when' would be a more appropriate question anyway."
"When?"
"Haven't you looked around?" Dorian asked impatiently. "This is the future. I always thought I'd be around to see it. Never like this though." He gazed at the sky. After a while he tapped his cane on the asphalt. "Right. Let's see if we can find your beloved League of Extraordinary Gentlemen."
That caught Quatermain's attention. "The League? They're here?"
"My God," Dorian said. "Did dying make you dense?"
Quatermain glared at the immortal. "And how do you know they're here?" He asked shortly.
Dorian sighed. "We're here aren't we?" He brushed past Quatermain and meandered down the sidewalk, taking in his surroundings. He paused, but did not turn around. "Are you coming or not?"
Quatermain did not particularly like the idea of 'fraternizing with the enemy,' so to speak. Dorian had been a spy, he'd sold the League to a madman – unforgivable acts in Quatermain's mind. "I don't believe you're trustworthy,' he replied.
"Oh please," Dorian sighed, turning around. "What have I got to gain by betraying the League a second time? I ended up here just as you did – with no idea where I am or what is going on." He twirled his cane idly. "Now, can we go? I don't wish to stay here any longer than I have to."
After a few moments of thought, Quatermain fell in-step beside Dorian. His last statement did make sense – Dorian had nothing to gain, and Dorian was a selfish man, he would never do anything without something in it for him. Nonetheless, Quatermain made a promise to himself – if he ever got out of this place alive, he would make sure Dorian Gray didn't.
A/N: I told you the Senior Partners work in mysterious ways! Now things are going to get fun! :-P