Author's Note: Well, certainly took me long enough. I've given up apologising, cuz you all know I'm sorry anyway, and I've run out of excuses ::shrug:: Sorry bout that  .O  I'll try and speed it up a little, especially since BTLOTM is finished now… feels weird to say that. ::comes out from bunker::

TARilus: Yup, Skinner. Attacking. Sawyer in pain… in one of my stories?  O.O Is it possible? Hehehehe. Maybe he did go insane, but you shall have to see, won't you?

Angharad: Nope, they are not going to be happy. Hehehehe… might be a little disagreeable on Mars. There has to be some reason they left, right?  .

Tatsu: I am an evil author, and you know it. Not only do you know, but some of you must like it, because you keep coming back, hehe. And no… I'm not ashamed ::points to comic book:: I'm just following the story, people!  .

Anacalagon: Yes. Yes I did. No you won't. Thank you. And yes.

Raven Silvers: Yes… yes it is. You can't believe it? Maybe you should read this instalment quickly to set your mind at rest, 'eh? . Kill me? Why do people want to kill me? ::sad face::

Sethoz: Thanks, buddy! We all know Tom isn't a stupid Yank, but the invisible man obviously seems to think so. Sigh… ain't life a… I would put the little stars in there to block out the swearing, but ff.net would take them out  . Silly thing. You get the drift. Katsup? Why the sudden fascination with Katsup?

LotRseer3350: He has indeed, hasn't he? At least, it seems like it. Not telling you anything spoiler-wise as usual  .  Aren't I mean?

Leigh S. Durron: Hehe, classic reaction. Ack! Not Sting! O.O Hehe, glad you liked it though.

Lady Moon3: Doink? What is 'doink'? 'Pretty much' doesn't quite cover it, but I think it's safe to say that Tom won't be telling the others that happened now, will he? Hehe, you have to tell me what doink means though.  .

SilverEagle:JessieWest: My god… I don't think I've ever seen quite such an unexpected reaction that made me smile before. Classic… loved it. And no need to beg, dear reader, here it is.

Drakena the Destroyer: Yes, poor Tom. Hyde and Mina? Jeez, Skinner, run for your life now, before you get pulverised and vamperised! Had to be done, regarding Hyde. It was such beautiful dialogue in the comic, that it just couldn't be wasted and cast aside. Everybody (male) loves Mina! . ::sarcastically:: Poor Mina…

Anyway, without further ado, here is Part 6 to LXG2: Above & Beyond!


            Mr. Thomas Marvel regarded the weapon in his hands, looking down on the prone figure of Agent Tom Sawyer – annoying that they shared a name – and quirked his eyebrows thoughtfully. Playfully, he cocked back the hammer on the pistol, and aimed it down at the unconscious young Yank, taking a deep, pensive breath, the barrel pointed directly at the side of the skull.

            Sighing, he pushed the hammer forward again, and lowered the weapon, tossing it down with a clatter beside the boy's body. "Too easy," he grumbled to himself, and turned his head – invisible as it was, thanks to one careless Dr. Hawley Griffin – back to the plans that he had dropped to the table. It was bad enough that he had been interrupted during his sabotage and 'treachery', but… he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed beating on the annoying brat. He couldn't understand how anyone could tolerate the little bastard.

            Rolling his eyes, he thought back, wondering why the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen had not realised their 'shadow' long before this. With vampiric senses on their side, it should have been much quicker… or actually a reality. He was still getting away with it, and he revelled in the gleeful fact that the thief would get the blame. He chuckled, a dry, sarcastic sound of mirth as he rolled up the plans in one hand, and gripped them tightly, almost afraid to let go. He glanced left and right, rather intoxicated with the idea of the faces of the League when they got back and saw Sawyer in this state… oh he wished he could stick around to see it.

            "But duty calls," he whispered to himself with mock distress, giggling for a moment afterwards as he moved out of the room. He threw one last glance back at the motionless form, and said, "So long, Yank… don't die too quickly. It would be a shame if you didn't suffer." Grinning maniacally, Marvel pushed down the corridor, on his way to clothing, and a swift, victorious exit.


            Rodney Skinner stood concealed in the shadows in the corner of the room, horrified and at a loss. What the hell was he going to do now? He couldn't just pop back up again and declare his innocence… they wouldn't bloody believe him anyway. They never did. He was the sneaky thief, after all, with stealth and dishonesty.

            He had 'felt a presence' back at the inn, on that night, and had been deeply troubled by it, slinking back into old habits by ducking out of the building for a while to have a quick cigarette, something he had long ago tried to completely quit… without much success. It was a little after that that he had seen 'solid' evidence… he cursed his hesitation in mentioning it to the others now, even as he tried to tear his eyes away from the defeated form of Sawyer, as he lay on the ground, still.

            Instead of simply looking away, he moved over, and crouched down, disturbing the collar of the white shirt to check for the pulse that he hoped with all his being was there… relieved to feel the beat beneath the skin on his neck. Skinner actually let out a sigh. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. He had only come in here to see what the slippery weasel was up to now, having tailed him for a few hours, through the museum rather successfully, given their shared 'disposition'. That was why he had chosen not to accompany the other men – bar Sawyer – on their little reconnaissance. Someone had to keep an eye on the pest… lot of good it had done, anyway. He felt a little useless, and stupid, for not helping when the American had needed it. Now look at the poor kid. He probably thought Skinner had lost his mind, and gone crazy to save his own skin.

            Wincing, Skinner stood, looking down at the young man still, before literally tearing his eyes away, glaring at the door where the figure had retreated, jaw set grimly, and shoulders squared defiantly.

            He would clear his name… no matter the consequences. He would not be the traitor.

            Not again…


            The horses wailed in discomfort as Smithson tore back their mouths, the bits being yanked by the reins attached, the scarred and weathered hands gripped tightly to avoid slipping on the leather as the rain continued, though lighter now. Thunder rumbled, looming and threatening still. The carriage splashed to a halt in front of the Albion, the horses wheezing and heaving from the pace they had been forced to exert on the way back, even as the coach they pulled rocked slightly. The three men of the League started to climb out, pulling their jackets around them, and still shocked after what they had seen.

            Jekyll, Nemo and Quatermain were eager to get out of the rain, and tell the others – others being Mina, Skinner and Sawyer – what they had seen, and what it could possibly mean, but as they headed towards the steps leading up to the museum, they conversed.

            "Right, you lot, I'll carry on over to Vauxhall and report to M," Smithson called to them, even as he started to prepare himself to start off again, despite the lethargy the horses were displaying. "He'll probably want fetching back here to the museum. No doubt I'll see you later." And with that, he cracked his whip and thrashed his reins… and darted off once more, nothing save for a dark shape signifying his coach as he departed.

            "What a nightmare," Quatermain grumbled as he tugged at the lapels of his jacket, his elephant gun in one hand. "That bloody milking stool thing… we're all in the most god awful trouble now, if we can't figure out a defence." He sounded more annoyed by this than anything else.

            "Let us get inside, out of this rain," Nemo surmised, trying to remain indifferent, even as Jekyll started up the steps leading to the grand doors. Quatermain and Nemo were right behind him, eager to get out of the downpour and the storm, which seemed to be receding, though it still lingered, as though hesitant to leave the skies over London.

            But as they were about to reach the doors, there was a strange fluttering of cloth – and wings? – from behind them, causing them to turn in unison, coming face to face with a rather damp and feral Mina Harker. She regarded them with crystalline blue eyes.

            "You have returned already?" she inquired, puzzled, rain running down her flawless features like small, sorrowful rivers.

            "Yes," Quatermain replied, furrowing his brow at the realisation that the vampire had left the American alone in the museum… before recalling the fact that Skinner had stayed behind. "We encountered something… unexpected, but we shall explain when we regroup."

            Nemo nodded, and Jekyll turned back to the doors, positively dripping from the rain. They entered the museum, chilled and soaked to the bone, and all puzzled out that Mina Harker had taken a break to feed, probably, seeing as how it was needed from time to time in order to quell the beast inside of her. The last thing they wanted or needed was to come back and find she'd drained Skinner or Sawyer of their blood. That would – needless to say – set them back quite a bit.

            Mina pushed the doors closed behind her, and made her way toward the stairs at once, eager to check up on the spy she had left sitting on his own up in the library. As she made her way up the stairs slowly, progressively, and unwilling to slip in her heels, she listened to the conversation taking place below her between the men present.

            "You saw how fast it moved, bowling across the horizon," Quatermain was mumbling thoughtfully. "A machine like that, it might even be too much for the army."

            "You realise there may be a second such device at Byfleet?" Nemo suggested darkly, and Mina could literally taste the reluctance from the others.

            "Oh god," Quatermain mumbled. "That Surrey golf links, where the second cylinder landed. I'd forgotten that. Two of them. And we thought they couldn't leave the crater."

            "No," Nemo interjected bluntly. "That is what the English assumed. I thought otherwise…"

            "Yes, you said they'd be building some sort of vehicle," Quatermain agreed after a moment.

            Jekyll put in his thoughts here, rather timidly, "While we were all hoping for the best, you were expecting the worst."

            "It is as you stated. To hope for the best is an English failing…"

            The voices started to trickle away from Mina's perspective here, though she caught the edges of something about Mombai and Calcutta. She ignored it, having no idea what they were talking about, and – even as she dripped water everywhere – she made her way back towards the library, where she had left Tom Sawyer. She hoped he hadn't gotten too bored or restless in her absence.

            She crossed through to the library, seeing the abandoned books, and furrowed her neat brow slightly, glancing left and right, before letting her senses come into play. Wait… there was something she did not like in the air, and it disturbed her. Was that…

            Was that blood?

            Mina's heart went into overdrive, thankful that she had just fed, or she might have found the scent far too tempting to resist. She followed it, passing a chair that smelt loosely of leather, though it was made of cloth, and came across a doorway that was slightly ajar.

            When she pushed on it, and glanced in with her blue eyes, her breath caught in her throat, and she surged forward, dropping to her knees at once, touching a hand to the face of Tom Sawyer, relieved at the warmth she felt there, and ignoring the fact that it was a little too warm. He looked awful; blood running down one side of his face and temple, and from his nose, as though he had been in a fight… and come out the loser. Glancing around, she saw the signs of the struggle, with dislodged items here and there, and shattered glass all over the floor. When she glanced back at Sawyer, she saw the slight cuts on one arm, and a few signs along his back. She felt immediately for a pulse, regardless of the fact that she could hear his heartbeat. He was alive, just unconscious.

            Snapping back into reality, she called out as loudly as she could, "Quatermain! Nemo, Jekyll! Come here! Come here now, damn you!" A slight growl had slipped into her voice as a scent other than the blood and the smell of Sawyer had clarified itself in her mind.

            Skinner…

            There was the sound of rushing footsteps, though not running, and not long after, Quatermain pushed into the room; "What is it? We were… oh, god." He came forward at once, even as Mina carefully rolled Tom over onto his back, showing the extent of the blood on his face. Whoever had hit him – and if she paid attention to her senses, it was Skinner – had certainly not taken the matter lightly.

            "Skinner… his smell. He was here. Jekyll, help him," Mina said quickly, not sure why she was reacting so irrationally. Jekyll pushed past the stunned Nemo, and dropped down beside the vampire, touching a hand to Sawyer's neck to check for the pulse, before fumbling a little.

            "The plans detailing London's gun positions are gone," Nemo pointed out gravely. "I do not understand what has happened here."

            "Forget about that, Nemo," Mina snapped abruptly. "We can worry about that later."

            "Come on, let's get him downstairs," Quatermain said, and positioned himself accordingly, before adding, "I can carry him."

            "Are you sure Mr. Quatermain?" Jekyll inquired, earning himself a chiding glare. Then he nodded. "Very well. He doesn't appear to be too badly injured."

            Carefully, Quatermain hefted Sawyer off the floor, laying him gently but securely over one shoulder with only a little difficulty. He stood to his full height, and turned towards the door, the young man held safely in place, still unaware. Mina looked at him, the way the blood had matted the hair close to the wound, and the slight bruise around it, and along his jaw. She couldn't help the second growl, as she propped herself up on her haunches, running her fingers through her wet, loose hair. She felt responsible… she never should have left. If only she had stayed, she could have –

            "Mrs. Harker? Are you… are you all right?" Jekyll's quiet, timid voice broke her from her musings, and she pulled her fingers from her tresses, staring at the polished shoes of the doctor.

            "I'm fine. See to Sawyer."

            She let the others leave, and then picked up the pistol in her hand, eyeing it oddly for a moment, before resisting the overwhelming urge to break something... something in the form of the invisible thief. Oh, she wished the coward were here now.

            How she wished...


            It was with reluctance that he finally pushed the darkness away from him, and allowed his consciousness to return to him, slowly, piece by piece. He groaned quietly, shifting slightly on whatever he was laying on – which he assumed to be some sort of annoyingly rigid bed – and forced his eyes to gradually open.

            His head throbbed powerfully, and he raised a hand at once, wincing and hissing through his teeth as he moved to sit up. A hand touched against his shoulder, firmly but carefully pushing him back down.

            "Give yourself a moment to regain your bearings," came the tender, soothing voice of Mina Harker. Tom looked in her direction, pained by the wan lamplight that illuminated the room. He placed it as some sort of temporary living quarters, perhaps a cleaner, from the smell, and sighed heavily.

            "What happened?" he asked quietly, mostly in a mumble as he touched his head again tentatively, remembering the blow he had been dealt before losing consciousness. It all started to flow back to him, and then he realised he was sore in more than one place. His back, stomach, left arm, and left side of his face and head ached irritably, but he knew it would all recede, as it always did. In his line of work, he had forced himself to get used to all of this sort of thing, knowing it all just… faded away eventually.

            "We found you… I found you, unconscious in the room where we had left the plans. Someone had attacked you. I was hoping to ask you what happened. Here," she said, bringing a damp, cold, folded cloth over to him, and touching it to the side of his head for him, carefully but firmly. He winced for a moment, and then lifted his own hand to support the cooling fabric. His hand brushed hers, before she took it away, and their eyes met. The pain was already starting to lessen, thankfully.

            "I think… no, it was Skinner." Tom's heart was heavy with that news, and the recollection of the fight as it flooded back to him in painful clarity. He didn't want it to be true, but he knew in his heart and mind that it was, no matter how hard he tried to deny it to himself. "I saw him looking over the plans… and then he just attacked me."

            Mina looked grave… and angry. Tom frowned, and slowly sat up, pulling the cloth from his head carefully, finding that he wasn't bleeding as he thought he might have been.

            "Here," Mina offered, and took the cloth from him, gently turning his head using one hand to cup his chin. He let her do so, looking her in the face, though she avoided eye contact with him, and she used the cloth to clear away the rest of the blood that was obviously still on his head, given that she brought it away stained. "When we find Mr. Skinner, we will ask him for his reasoning. I fear… I fear he has aligned himself with the enemy. There is no other reason as to why he would steal the plans."

            "He stole the plans?" Tom's stomach took a new turn, and he didn't like the feeling one bit. It made him feel nauseous, and he grimaced. "Damn… why would he do this?"

            Mina said nothing, only sighed with a very delicate shrug, before the sound of a door closing drifted to the room they were in. She handed him a mug of something hot that he assumed to be tea, given the lack of the coffee smell to it, and prompted him to rise. "Mr. Holmes appears to have arrived. Quatermain and the others have news for us, it would seem."

            "News?" Tom furrowed his brow, and frowned a little more, his headache more than grating. "Why don't I like the sound of this?"


            The room in which the League now sat or stood, along with Mycroft Holmes and Smithson, was rather gloomy and foreboding, though the rain seemed to have eased up outside somewhat. There were no artefacts in this room, only a pair of old, rather dusty sofas, and a few lamps to illuminate wanly. Only one of the sofas was being used, by Sawyer, flanked on either side rather protectively by Quatermain and Mina Harker. The young man held a mug of something in his hands, but he didn't appear interested in the slightest in drinking any of it now, lost in a reverie.

            Mycroft looked over near to the window, where Jekyll was staring out into the darkness, and Nemo had placed himself behind the sofa, almost like a guard. Were they really so paranoid that they thought another attack on the boy might be attempted whilst they were all present? Surely no one could be that stealthy… or stupid.

            Shrugging it off, Mycroft cleared his throat quietly, hoping to stir some sort of response from someone. They had already discussed the presence of the rather peculiar tripod item, which Smithson had already informed him of on the journey over from Vauxhall. It was a bizarre turn of events, that was certain, but Mycroft already had a plan twisting in his mind, aided by his associates in the Empire.

            The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen seemed troubled by this news, understandably. It was another weight on their shoulders, something else for them to deal with. But after all, it was their job, regardless of the risk. They were here to protect London, and perhaps the world, and Mycroft had a feeling that – no matter the internal reluctance they all undoubtedly had – they would go ahead with it anyway.

             "This place… this museum…" Sawyer's voice was quiet, but laced with an unusual darkness and warning. All eyes turned on the younger man as he continued, "We can't stay here."

            Quatermain eyed the American cautiously, narrowing his eyes as he asked for clarification; "What?"

            "We have to leave." Sawyer stared straight ahead and down at the ground, lost in his own world of memory and imagination, perhaps. There was an odd light, like concern, in his green eyes. "It isn't safe."

            "You're still shaken up," Mrs. Harker observed quietly, touching a hand to Sawyer's shoulder.

            "No," Mycroft put in then, firmly. "The boy is absolutely right. Skinner knows this place."

            Sawyer looked up from his place of focus, and Mycroft was unsure of what to make of the expression the young man was wearing. He seemed annoyed at being addressed as 'boy', but also relieved that someone was agreeing with him. On top of that, Mycroft could see in the youthful gaze that there was confusion over everything that had happened.

            "To that end," he continued dominantly, calling all attention unto himself, "I suggest that Captain Nemo and Dr. Jekyll should relocate to the Captain's submersible boat."

            The blue eyes of Mrs. Harker rose into his, and she cocked her head inquisitively, gaze flecked with suspicion and curiousity. "What about us?"

            "My dear Mrs. Harker," Mycroft began, completely devoid of humour, "one of your team has had a simply frightful time. We thought he might appreciate a little... holiday."

            Sawyer, Harker and Quatermain looked to one another, and then in unison, their eyes fell upon Mycroft, who simply smiled knowingly.