Disclaimer – Here's the obligatory disclaimer. I don't own any type of legal rights to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Period.
Sawyer Fan – I'm glad I could relieve your worries about Sawyer. I'm even gladder that you're still enjoying this.
LotRseer3350 – I'm also glad that you're still enjoying this, especially the "Mowgli angle." That Mowgli angle was really half the reason I decided to write this story in the first place.
Allan Quatermain felt a sudden, unexplainable chill as he followed Mowgli through the thick leaves and tall plants of the sweltering jungle. Sweat trickled down his forehead and drenched his shirt. At least this wetness kept him cool.
Quatermain stopped only a short moment to take a drink of lake water from his canteen. There was too much to kill him already without worrying about death by dehydration.
At this point, Allan Quatermain would no longer allow himself to stop for anything, at least not for more than a few seconds. And those seconds would never add up to sixty. Not until his mission was accomplished.
Quatermain wouldn't stop to rest or even at night to sleep. He was glad that his guide didn't seem to mind. Mowgli never seemed to tire or need rest. He had a boundless energy that was clearly not the trait of a civilized human being.
The guide's rate was perfectly pleasing to Quatermain. He had spent too long on this island. He would not rest until he had reached his destination and was ready to turn towards home.
Quatermain had never thought he could miss London so much.
As determined as Quatermain was to stay focused on his path, his mind couldn't help wandering to thoughts of Mina Harker, Henry Jekyll, Nemo, Skinner, and Sawyer. It had been days since he'd seen most of them, hours since he'd last seen Skinner. That was more than enough time for terrible, terrible things to happen to them. Quatermain couldn't help feeling guilty. As the field team leader on this assignment, he was responsible for the personal safety of the League members that had come with him. He had arrived with five other people. If those other five were alive, Quatermain would do everything in his power to get them off the island.
"Uggh!" Quatermain cursed as the sharp edge of a tree branch roused him to reality. He looked down at his arm, at the dark red fluid running from the scrape. It reminded him of what his companions could be experiencing right then. There was no time to dwell on the possibilities of what might happen. It was essential that Quatermain keep his mind on the here and now.
"Quatermain!" yelled Mowgli, gesturing to Allan. "Come!"
Quatermain obeyed, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as he wrapped his hand in a vine and prepared to climb the next steep slope.
Every step of the climb reminded Quatermain that he wasn't as young as he had been when he explored King Solomon's mines. Mowgli offered him his hand at the top of the slope and pulled the aging explorer to his feet.
Mowgli bounded on ahead, disappearing into a think clump of foliage. After a few seconds, the boy's face reemerged. Very slowly, the boy crept back towards Quatermain. Every step was slow and painstakingly planned. There was a look of deliberation on Mowgli's face. Quatermain stood as still as the ground on which his feet were planted and waited. Something was obviously wrong.
Mowgli grasped Quatermain by the shoulder and the two slowly crept back towards the bush. They yard before the bush felt like it was the length of an entire soccer field. Mowgli finally pushed through the leaves of the bush, moving gracefully and managing not to rustle a single leaf. Quatermain tried to do the same, and he cringed when the leaves crinkled.
When Quatermain reached the other end, his gaze followed Mowgli's outstretched finger. His heart began to beat faster as he beheld the tiger he and Skinner had wrestled with earlier. The mighty tiger Shere-Khan was sleeping only a few feet away.
> > > > > >
The crew members of the Nautilus stared with white, empty eyes as their new passengers came aboard. Their fright barely matched that of their captain.
Captain Nemo had only felt guilt and shame during a moment he would normally have felt pride and love. He had watched his vessel emerge from the waters of the Ocean and glide gracefully into the shallow pool at Frankenstein's hidden dock.
He had then watched with horror as his first mate opened the main hatch and saw the sharp blades of over one hundred and one swords and spears aimed straight at his face.
This was stalling for time. Nemo found the torture he had been through easy to endure. It was painful, but he had faith in a better existence beyond pain and suffering. The only reason he had capitulated to Frankenstein's demands was to keep the deranged young man satisfied.
Nemo had opened communications with the crew of the Nautilus and told the crew exactly what Frankenstein wanted him to.
If Frankenstein's plan was successful millions of Germans and foreign tourists would be slaughtered. If Frankenstein's plan failed, Nemo and his friends would suffer and die.
Nemo couldn't let either of those things happen. There had to be another way.
In the meantime, Nemo could only do what he had always done. He could captain the Nautilus. And he could think.
Nemo looked at Frankenstein, and Frankenstein shot back a warning and a threat with his eyes. Nemo reluctantly boarded the Nautilus and prepared for the longest voyage of his life.
> > > > > >
Allan Quatermain's lungs and heart felt ready to burst as he held his breath and tiptoed after Mowgli past the sleeping tiger. Although Quatermain managed to present a calm outward appearance, his heart was beating so hard within that Quatermain feared it would burst from his chest.
Suddenly, Shere-Khan moved. Quatermain and Mowgli froze in place. Sweat ran from their foreheads and left a salty taste in their mouths.
The tiger's eyes were wide and alert. Shere-Khan straightened his back and looked out across the jungle.
Quatermain wanted to die with his eyes closed, but he couldn't stop watching the magnificent tiger. He stared intently at the tiger with his own wide, alert eyes. For a second, his eyes met that of Shere-Khan. Quatermain and Shere-Khan stared into each other's souls.
Then Shere-Khan closed his eyes and his whole body sagged like a rag doll's. Instead of a growl, Allan Quatermain and Mowgli were met with a mighty snore.
After Quatermain and his guide had tiptoed long enough to put an adequate distance between themselves and the tiger, they began to run. They kept running as if they were never going to stop.
They did stop. The two were both out of breath, their chests heaving, their voices coming in wheezes. Mowgli pointed and gasped, "Stone castle."
Quatermain thought he might have been dreaming, but if he was dreaming, he was having a nightmare.
The first thing Quatermain saw was a billow of black smoke. The smoke was flowing like vomit from a freakishly shaped and constructed chimney.
The word "castle" was far from an apt description. The fortress was definitely the size and vastness of a palace, but the walls resembled those of a prison more than a castle. Barbed wire fences made the concrete walls even less welcoming.
The final feature of the castle, the one that horrified Quatermain the most, was the army of sentries posted around the perimeter. At least fifty undead soldiers were marching around the building, carrying rifles and bayonnettes.
Quatermain and his guide crept closer to the fortress.
"We need a plan," Quatermain whispered into Mowgli's ear. Mowgli solemnly nodded in agreement.
Quatermain studied the guards, hoping to find some clue of how he could sneak past them. As he studied the dirt-stained rags that covered the guards, he thought of Rodney Skinner. He remembered watching the invisible man lift clods of dirt and rub them over his form. He had a plan.
He took the knapsack off of his back and pulled out the two most ragged outfits he could find. He then proceeded to tear them and rub them in dirt. He threw one of the now even more ragged outfits to his jungle guide.
"Put this on," he instructed Mowgli.
After the two were in the tattered garb, Quatermain began to rub dirt all over himself. Mowgli did the same.
Mowgli and Quatermain slowly made their way to the barbed wire fence surrounding the stone castle. Quatermain could hear the sound of a marching platoon coming in from behind. He resisted the temptation to turn and watch, but just crouched and looked at the ground.
As the marching monsters passed, Mowgli and Quatermain joined the rear, even imitating the monster's distinctive swagger. The monsters opened the fence and Quatermain and Mowgli followed them through.
Quatermain felt uncomfortable as he and Mowgli followed the monsters to the main entrance of the lair. He could sense that the creatures felt the same way. Their eyes shifted. Their nostrils flared. It was as if they could sense the fresh life in Quatermain and Mowgli's veins.
Quatermain heard a grunt as the usually graceful Mowgli tripped and stumbled to the ground. The tattered cloak Quatermain had fashioned for him slid off. Soon, sharp bayonets were aimed at the wolf boy.
Mowgli propped himself up with the palms of his hands and threw his feet up at the bayonets, knocking the monsters holding them onto their back. Quatermain grabbed another two of the monsters from behind and forced their skulls into one another. Mowgli then ran and jumped onto the throats of the monsters he had knocked down previously. He jumped and spun around in the air to face another monster brandishing a sword. He threw his head against the monster's. The monster stumbled back and was impaled on a tree branch.
A monster lunged at Quatermain, its sharp fingernails poised like talons on a falcon coming in for a kill. Quatermain stood to the side and wrapped his arms around the monster's waist. He hoisted the monster up to above his head and then dropped it.
Quatermain then walked over to Mowgli and stood by his side. They looked forward as three more monsters approached them with battle axes.
Quatermain raised his fists to fight, but he realized that if the blades fell his hands would do him no good. Quatermain braced himself and prepared to die with dignity. Yet as the blades fell his reflexes worked and he flinched.
A giant tree branch hoisted itself with a grunt into the air and flew into the heads of all three monsters, knocking them off balance. The blade of a battle axe landed right next to Quatermain's shoes.
Quatermain looked over at Mowgli and noticed he was unharmed as well. He then looked at the air above the unconscious brutes with their axes.
"Easy there, Mr. Q.," said a familiar voice. "You'll get blood all over this beautiful beach."
Even Mowgli smiled at the sound of the voice.
"Skinner!" said Quatermain. "I thought those brutes had you!"
"Ol' Skinner? By gosh!" said the invisible man. "It takes a lot more than that to get my hyde. The beasts couldn't find me during the fight. I saw you fall down into the ravine, and I saw the monkey boy climb after you, but when I tried to follow, alas, the hill was too steep, and I was forced to seek an alternative route."
Quatermain grinned. He would have shaken the invisible man's hand if he could see it.
"What now, boss?" asked Skinner. "Do we knock, or should we just let ourselves in?"
Suddenly, a shadow fell over Quatermain. He recognized the shape of another battle axe.
The blade began to swing, but it stopped to the sound of a ferocious growl. A blur of black fur came from the opposite direction and knocked the monster to the ground.
Mowgli ran up and petted the black panther.
"Bagheera!" he said.
A/N – To be continued, as always. Please continue to R&R.