Author's Note: Whee! This chapter was pretty smooth to get out o.O Don't know why, but it just wouldn't stop, hence the… continuation of it XD It just won't stop! Mwahahahah! Ahem, yes… enjoy?
Marcus Lazarus: Hyde was a 'good' guy, yes, and Jekyll even more so, but just think of it this way… he died a hero. As for Sawyer… guess this chapter will enlighten you on that issue ;)
Ten Mara: I'm glad you're enjoying the suspense XD I do love writing it, heh. And the fact that you find it effective is more of a relief and comfort than you know, heh. To find out what happens/happened to Tom… ;) You'll see.
LotRseer3350: What happened to Tom? You'll see XD Very soon as well. Kill Nemo? Hehehehe; not a fan? XD Sorry for keeping you waiting, heh.
Drakena: Sorry to upset you regarding Jekyll… but… yeah; I apologise, but he went out – no pun intended whatsoever! – in a blaze of glory. As for the Marvel beatings… best take a lookie at the chapter; you may or may not be satisfied XD
Wind-Sorceress-Pluto: Heh, you'll find out soon enough! Glad you liked.
Slight warning on this one too XD Just so you know.
Thomas Marvel practically skipped away, suppressing his manic little giggle as he watched the American reel from the blow, gasping at the burning pain in his back. The Scotsman and the woman turned to him both at once, the latter taking hold of him as she cried his name. The blonde head had dropped forward as he panted, wincing, grabbing a hold of her coat to steady himself from the attack.
Though he knew he was somewhat useless without a weapon, it was probably for the best that he no longer held it. After all, if he were still holding the knife, he would be visible, to some degree… and he couldn't have that.
So he simply let a mad grin spread across his face as he watched, staring at the blade sticking out of Sawyer's back and wishing he could laugh… they had foiled the tripods for now… but they would not foil him. He would have his vengeance!
"Oh god, Tom… Tom, stay still!" Mina's voice burned into his brain and made him fight to stay upright, though his right leg was fighting him fiercely, and his harsh breathing was all he could hear for a minute. He could feel the blade sticking out of him, and he struggled to register just where.
"Hold still, Sawyer," Quatermain said, laying a hand against him. "Nemo! It's that bastard, Marvel! Watch yourself."
Marvel… dammit… oh, dammit… not now…
He could feel the hunter's hand on his back near to the blade… it was his shoulder. It was just to the bottom of his left shoulder. To his immediate recollection, there were no vital organs there, but he knew the lungs to be in that vicinity; there was still a risk. "Just pull it out," he mumbled, and when there was no immediate reaction, he practically shouted, "Just do it!"
And with a jerk, Quatermain wrenched the blade free, eliciting a loud cry from Tom, even as one knee did give out on him. Mina braced him as he fell, keeping him on his knees at least. She stroked his face with one hand, keeping her mind focused on anything but the blood, he knew. The last thing he wanted was for her appetite to come into play now, when he was finding it hard to focus.
Don't you dare pass out now. You've been shot before; you've had worse. Stay awake.
With a growl, he pulled in a deep, heavy breath, closing his eyes to force away the dancing colours. "Where is he?" he panted to Mina, who was stroking rebellious bangs from his brow.
"He… I can smell him… but only just. The open air; all these scents. I cannot focus."
"It's all right…" he whispered to her as Quatermain came down behind him, motioning for Mina to shrug his jacket off him. Tom felt her move to obey, and he helped as much as he could. It burned so badly, but he knew he had to stay awake. If Marvel tried to strike Mina, he could at least give her some kind of warning. So it was that he forced his strained eyes open, and watched the area behind her, looking for anything similar to what he'd observed with Skinner.
The invisible thief was turning left and right, one arm spread out slightly to his side, the other in his sling. He felt vulnerable; out in the open and exposed. Even as Tom watched hazily, he saw Skinner throw his trilby onto a crate and snatch Bond's handkerchief from his grasp, which he proceeded to rub furiously over his face. Using a puddle for assistance, he soon had the greasepaint off his visage. His coat dropped to the ground, and finally, the sling fell like a heavy feather. Skinner was gone.
Tom shuddered as he felt heat against his back; he was bleeding, he knew, and Quatermain was trying to stop that.
"Stay with me, lad; keep your eyes open. That's it."
Never had London seemed so cold as it did just then. Tom suddenly found himself watching the tripods trying to get across the bridge, even though Hyde's valiant and selfless efforts had blocked them. He swallowed the foul taste in his throat with a grimace, and silently thanked the large alter ego… because of Hyde, the tripods were stuck.
But so was the League right now… they were stuck, trapped in the proverbial corner with an invisible wolf at the door.
Tom closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them, he saw a blade… a bloodied blade; the blade that had been sticking out of his back.
"Mina!" he practically bellowed, as loudly as he could, and with the reflexes of a prepared feline, the vampire whirled with a snarl, and struck out. Tom heard the contact, and saw the blade skitter to the floor. Nemo grasped it up quickly, holding it tightly in his hand, before drawing out his sword.
Tom groaned quietly, even as Mina's hand stroked through his hair. He felt her press a kiss to his brow, perhaps in gratitude as she whispered to him, "Fight it, Tom. Stay with us. You'll be all right."
He nodded wearily, placing his right hand down on the ground as Quatermain worked on stopping the bleeding.
Marvel cursed quietly beneath his breath, scowling at the brat. Why wouldn't he die?
I missed. Should have aimed nearer the middle. I'll have another chance; I'll have another go.
But the pirate had his knife. With a glare, he looked around.
Wait… where had the thief gone?
No… no, no, no! This isn't fair. He's meant to die!
Breathing raggedly through rage, he focused as much as he could, looking around to try and find any sign of Skinner. The thief wouldn't steal his victory from him… not if he had anything to say about it.
Skinner saw everything around him as if he were dreaming, panting slightly out of fear, shock and dismay. Sawyer looked badly hurt, pale and weak, and even as he looked over at the American, his body slumped down into Mina's arms, accompanied by the twin declarations of his name from the woman and Quatermain. He'd lapsed into unconsciousness.
Four against one…
Shaking his head, he tried to find any sign of Marvel nearby; a disturbance of the ground or a ripple in a puddle… a rising of an object. Anything… he'd take anything he could get, if only he could strike back. He hated feeling useless, and though his arm throbbed badly from being broken, he wanted nothing more than to pound Marvel's head in with his own two hands.
If he didn't know it would risk his own position, he would have called out to the other man… but then an idea flashed through his mind like a lightning strike. Moving stealthily and silently, he crouched with a whisper down next to Mina, "Don't move or show I'm here, but I need your help. I know your worried about Sawyer, but let Quatermain take care of him… I need you now." He saw her breathe in deeply; a sign that she heard him. "Help me find him." He held back from touching her at all for encouragement, for fear of disturbing her coat; showing Marvel where he was.
Mina drew in another deep breath, and after touching her hand to Sawyer's face one more time, stood calmly to her feet. She turned away from her fallen lover, and scanned the vicinity. Skinner shuddered lightly as her eyes flooded a vibrant scarlet, and he saw her hair lift and curl slightly.
Come on you son of a bitch… show yourself.
Marvel nearly growled as he saw the vampire stand and look around. She was searching for him. Skinner… that meant Skinner had spoken to her. But if he moved, she would hear him, wouldn't she? Skinner had to still be near to her, didn't he?
He had to get the vampire out of the running. If he knocked her away or down, even if just for a moment, he could get an advantage; maybe he could attack the Scotsman before he helped the American too much. All he wanted was to kill Skinner… and perhaps watch that brat die slowly as his life bled out of him. He had a horrible feeling he'd even missed the lungs, but a wound was good enough, so long as he suffered.
Mina saw everything through a delicate red haze, sensitive and enhanced. She could hear the heartbeats of everyone around her, strong and somewhat racing… save for Tom's; his was marginally weaker and distracted her for only a moment. She had to concentrate; if she lost her focus, Marvel could escape, and she would not have him running free. This would be the second time he had attacked Tom, and she would not abide it. Marvel had tried to frame Skinner… she would not allow any of this, and she would see him put down.
Blinking slowly, as if in a hypnotised daze, she turned her head slightly… and then froze.
There!
A vague impression of a form wavered about ten feet in front of her, and she could make out details, such as a head, a shifting arm, and a moving leg. It was him… it was Marvel. He was standing there before her, watching her in return.
She growled quietly, thinking what she should do. She smiled eerily, perhaps to speak silently to Marvel: 'I can see you'.
Marvel froze, his eyes widening. She was looking right at him! She was smiling at him! He could see the fangs in her mouth now, the delighted glint of triumph in her reddened eyes. She could see him, and he almost imagined he could read her mind then. She would attack him… the vampire would fly at him and grab him; expose his position.
He needed a weapon… he needed any weapon.
His eyes landed on the Indian, not five feet away from him, and a maniacal glint filled his wide, crazy eyes. He could grab it… he'd have time.
Even as the vampire gave a snarl and lunged, he leapt, hand grasping out.
Nemo felt something tug at his arm, in which he was holding the bloodied knife, and gave a growl. Mina had lifted into the air and was soaring towards what he guessed was their villain.
Bringing his other arm around, he lashed out with his sword, and heard a wail of agony as the grip fell, tugged, from his arm. In the process, the knife fell, only to lift from the ground shakily and turn, even as Mina came up right in front of him. Her skirts billowed like otherworldly wings, and her face was positively furious; eyes red and fangs ready to bite. Her hair flew around her face like a living veil, and Nemo drew back, hoping she would see the threat, even as a puddle just to his right splashed.
Skinner…
He would have given a war-cry if it wouldn't have ruined the element of surprise, and as Mina took a hold of something invisible, her hand grasping in such a manner that suggested a throat, he saw the glint of a blade.
"No!" he wailed, and threw himself down and along the ground, reaching up and out, grabbing the knife and tearing it from the hand. He heard the frustrated scream of madness as the weapon left Marvel's hand, and Skinner threw himself upright as best he could. Mina growled in Marvel's invisible face, and bore her fangs again, ready to bite.
"Mina, don't!" he hissed, and he saw the understanding in her red eyes, before he reached back with the blade – hoping his aim wouldn't fail him – and brought it round in a savage arc. Even as Skinner gave a ragged yell, he felt the blade imbed in something solid… and heard a choked gasp. Hand still on the grip of the knife; he felt something jerk on the other end as a struggled breath sounded in the air.
Everything seemed to quieten, and Mina calmed, her hair and eyes returning to normal as her fangs retracted. She blinked, and her hand shook where she grasped Marvel. She kept hold, for fear of losing him perhaps.
Skinner looked to the blade, and before his very eyes, blood started to seep. It was faint at first, but slowly – and surely – it became vivid and definite. The breathing was wheezed and failing… Marvel was dying.
"No…" Marvel shook his head very slowly, feeling blood pouring from his back around the blade that had found his heart. He felt it inside of him, piercing and wounding. He blinked briskly and blurrily, looking from the vampire to the few stray droplets that hovered next to him. Skinner… the thief had stabbed him; the thief had killed him.
"This… isn't how it's supposed to be."
With that, and one final gasp for breath, he felt his heart stop… and remembered nothing more.
The blood poured like a small river now, around the blade and onto Skinner's still-gripping hand. He recoiled, even as he saw the heart he had punctured, withered and dead in the chest which came into manifestation like a bud unfolding. Muscle, tissue, organs and bone coming into focus. Finally the veins and blood and skin could be seen. Skinner saw Marvel's skull and head finish up the process as he stumbled backwards, propping himself up on a crate as the other man's dead form came into full view. Mina let go of him, and he fell lifelessly to the ground with a dull thud. It was only then that the thief noticed Marvel was missing an arm… his right arm had been cut off halfway between the wrist and the elbow… the detached piece was lying not far from Nemo's boots.
Everyone stared at the body for a few silent and heavy moments, before Quatermain seemed to remember what he had been doing.
Allan cursed quietly, relieved that the maniac was dead, but still worried about Sawyer, whose head moved just a fraction, as if the young man was regaining some form of consciousness. Mina Harker swept down to her knees next to Sawyer, and stroked hair from his eyes as they opened slowly.
Allan busied himself with checking the wound; the bleeding had slowed considerably now, and stopping steadily but certainly. Sawyer would survive, but he would need treatment. Allan's heart felt heavy as he remembered Jekyll… their doctor was gone, yes, but more than that, they had lost a friend.
Mina smiled down at Tom as he looked up at her. She bowed her head over, and kissed him lightly atop his head as he pulled in a deep breath. The smell of blood was not so pungent now; his wound was not fatal. He would survive, and for that, she was overwhelmingly glad.
"What happened?" Tom mumbled groggily, giving a tiny wince as Quatermain applied pressure to his injury again, for good measure.
"Marvel is dead. Mr. Skinner has killed him," she revealed. Quatermain nodded to her and, taking the subtle hint, she motioned to Tom that she needed to move him. Carefully, she helped him into a sitting position, so the hunter could see and dress the wound better. He had removed the heavy sash from around his neck, and made about applying it to the injury; apparently he had stopped the bleeding.
"Are you all right?"
Tom nodded, but before he could say anything, there came a low boom from down the river. All heads turned to follow the noise, and Mina's delicate brow furrowed.
"What was that report from down river? It sounded like guns…" Nemo's dark eyes had narrowed in confusion, even as he slipped his sword into its scabbard once again.
"It's the artillery position at Westminster," Bond replied with a slight pant, looking around in a light daze before patting his breast pocket in his jacket. A look of relief came over his face before he dug around inside for something. "They're delivering H-142 to South London."
"What… in an artillery shell?" Mina looked from Tom, to Quatermain, and then back to Bond all in one fluidic – albeit confused – motion. "B-but isn't it one of Moreau's hybrids?"
As she turned her eyes over the river, she saw the shell careening down towards the mass of tripods and buildings.
"Oh, yes. Yes, it's a hybrid all right." Bond had removed his cigarettes from his jacket with a light sigh. "Anthrax and streptococcus, if I remember correctly."
A heavy, morbid silence came over the League, even as Bond removed a cigarette from his case, and the shell slammed into London on the other side of the bridge in a mighty cloud.
Mina trembled, looking back to Quatermain and Tom. The two men wore horrified expressions, but the younger looked traumatised; whether it was from the injury or the revelation, she did not know, but she subconsciously stroked one side of his face. Perhaps it was to comfort him… but she needed to comfort herself at the same time, and contact with the American helped. Anthrax and streptococcus… it couldn't be.
Oh god… what have we done?
