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The rain came down in icy sheets, pelting the women with tiny, but sharp, darts of nearly frozen water. It streamed down her face in rivulets, drenching her brown hair and molding it to her skin of raw sienna hue. A long blue dress, ragged from the wind and the elements, scraped the wet sand below. Though she appeared to be about 34, the tiny crow's feet in the corners of her black eyes hinted at a somber wisdom attained only by trials and hardship. Hardly beautiful, Corby's features were plain but strong. Her lips pressed themselves together forming a thin, determined line, seeming to declare: I will not be moved!

On her left, was a small little girl with pale skin and a wild head of fiery curls. Her eyes were ablaze with the passion of emeralds and flames fused, contrasting sharply with the tiny freckles that speckled themselves across her flawless face. Her nose was cute and pert, ending in a little upward curve, like a ski jump. Slender, and no more than nine years old, Enya was composed of the things dreams are made of. Every gesture graceful, yet defiant, she was infinitely beautiful and ageless. Her rosebud lips puckered themselves sulkily and she tugged on Corby's hand insistently, whining some unintelligible demand in the woman's direction as the wind pulled fiercely at her fashionable clothes.

The third and final figure on the beach was stooped with age and wrinkles in her face were as numerous as the cracks in a stone. In her right hand, she grasped a twisted, knobby cane to support herself. She wore a freakishly outlandish outfit, colored with neon yellow, green, and red. When Wynonna saw the submarine approaching in the distance, she lifted up her cane and hollered at the members of the League on deck, "WHAT TOOK YOU CRAZY COOTS SO LONG TO FIND US?!" Her blue eyes squinted up at the rapidly approaching vessel, and stamped her foot impatiently as they took the time to lower a lifeboat to send over, "Unreliable, that's what you are!" Of course, none of them could hear her. No matter; they would soon enough.

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Mina, Jekyll, Skinner, and Nemo had all elected to stay aboard the ship. Tom Sawyer was the only one even remotely interested in finding out who the inhabitants of the island were. Copious amounts of waves crashed against the tiny bow of the little boat, soaking the young secret agent even more so than the rain(seeing as he insisted on sitting up front). Much to his disappointment, he had been forced to leave his modified Winchester back aboard the Nautilus. As Captain Nemo had put it: "Rescuing castaways does not require the use of weaponry." So, Sawyer found himself rubbing the salty rain from his eyelashes and tossing his hair irritably out of his eyes as the boat rocked up and down with the motion of the waves.

Moments later, the boat ran aground to the sounds of the bow scraping against the gritty sand. Tom hopped out easily, inclining his head politely to the eldest woman and the one who seemed to be only a few years older than he. Enya flew at Tom, porcelain arms stretched out wide, "My hero!" She proclaimed dramatically, wrapping herself firmly around his legs, and batting her big red eyelashes up at him, "I knew somebody would save us! Are you a king yet or are you still a prince?"

Tom blinked down at her in confusion, disturbed at having a doll-like picture of innocence cling to his knees like some sort of leech. "Uhhh..." He managed eloquently, "I'm...not really either." An awkward silence ensued before he yelped in pain and grabbed at his right leg, tugging her off, "What the–"

Corby rushed forward, taking Enya from his hands, "No biting!" She scolded the girl angrily, swatting her backside before setting the deceivingly innocent girl back on the ground. Her dark bronze skin was illuminated by a ray of sun breaking through the clouds, clearly marking her as being unrelated to the other two(who were pale skinned). "I'm sorry about that, Agent Sawyer." She extended a hand to shake his.

Tom was about to shake hers as well when a thought struck him and he hesitated. "Hold on, how do you know my name? Have we met before?"

Corby frowned, eyes misting over as she thought about the event. "Have we not met yet?" She seemed distressed, then shook her head. "I must've heard of you from somewhere." Replied the woman lightly, lying through her teeth. Tom wasn't the best person in the world for catching someone in a half truth, but something was off about this.

Before he had time to ponder the discrepancy, Wynnona rushed over and rudely inserted herself between Corby and the young American, "Well, hello there, young fella!" She leered at him, grinning through crooked and yellowed teeth, "You're quite a handsome specimen, aren't ya?" She pinched his cheek with more strength than he would have given her credit for, and then slapped it affectionately. "Enough of the pleasantries!" She crowed, climbing into the little rowboat, moving like she was half the age she appeared to be. "Take me to your leader."

The young agent sighed and complied. Why did he get the feeling that this would be a long voyage?

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