Yeah, so this is the fic. Please be gentle and no flaming! And, as said before, I don't own either groups, Nunzio, or Holmes. Catty, the Corrupt Couple, and most criminals are mine.

-.-T-T

Goto the West 96th-Street, and often, you'll see people heading over to Nunzio's, an Italian restaurant that served all who could pay.

But nobody was allowed in, for tonight, it was closed. Yet, if anyone cared to look inside closely, they would see some shadows dancing in the light of a single lamp. Nobody really cared, however. Most knew not to mess with the Italian-Jewish owner, who neutral to a fault. Nunzio Goldman served and associated with assassins and some pimps he found to be clean enough, but to those who preyed on children, he kicked them out, literally.

Tonight was a special night. He called six people that day, frantic for them to show up. It was no surprised Giovanni "Boomer" Frontieri had shown up first. They had been friends for a while, and Boomer was a diligent man, always the first to leap to action. The solid, dark-haired man had always been this way from a legendary NYPD cop to his current, jobless state.

In fact, it had been Boomer who came up with the Apaches in the first place, a secret unit made of the best six cops, including himself, of New York City that hit hard and fast. Though crippled (Boomer had half a lung and he limped on his right leg), all six proved that injuries were not something that would slow them down.

The quiet geek, Jimmy "Pins" Ryan had been next. That was typical as well. The electronic-genius, who had been prized in the Drug Task Force before being shot in the chest and arms, was the short, shy member who ran a bowling alley. It was under repair after their last takedown of drug queen Lucia Carney, where he had been strapped to dynamite; he and another member made it out, but the alley was destroyed.

Though he seemed anxious about the Apache thing, he really did enjoy being part of the team. Nowadays, however, he seemed more introverted after they took Carney down. Nunzio knew it was because he had always felt the most useless, having never fired a gun, and was disappointed to have been beaten like that.

Delgado "Geronimo" Lopez and Bobby "Rev. Jim" Scarponi bustled in a little later, interrupting the trio's conversation.

Geronimo was Native-American and Puerto-Rican, yet he always embraced his Indian side. He was the tall, dark, and silent man, and when he did speak, it was a wise comment, usually with a bit of Nat-American philosophy. A running bronco dangled on the chain around his neck could usually be found on him.

Most never guessed that this man had been one of the Bomb Unit's most trusted member. He loved the workings of explosives, loved being against the machine, see how he could master it and take it apart. It's ironic how that was the end of his career, when a grenade blew up in his chest. The Apaches gave him a chance to go against explosives again, and for that, he was grateful.

Rev. Jim, on the other hand, had been prized in the Decoy Unit. He could go through any disguise, any accent, and any story. Sarcastic to a fault, he never lost a chance to make a wise-ass remark or comment.

He always reflected back to his mother's death, which had turned him from a junkie to a cop. He knew he was partially to blame, but he felt filled with justice when he killed her murderer. He worked hard at his job, which was undone when he was lit on fire accidentally by a couple of teens.

Now, both Geronimo and Rev. Jim were helping their geek with the construction of his bowling alley, with a few of Nunzio's friends. The reason they came at different times, however, was because Pins had gone off on an errand close by Nunzio's.

Nearer to the end of the afternoon, Dead-Eye hurried in. The tall Black man had offered no explanation, which was because they could guess his lateness. It probably had to do with his three-year-old son, Eddie, whom he cherished, or his wife, Grace, who was still uncomfortable with his Apache job.

He worked as a doorman as well, after he retired from the NYPD from an elevator shoot-out that cost him his leg, chest, and arms. He was a guarded man, but friendly at the same time, with a keen eye. He was the only member who could have his dominant arm damaged, but still get a perfect shot with his recessive one. He never missed a mark.

Finally, Mary "Mrs. Columbo" Silvestri entered, which was the same time Nunzio began to hurry customers out. She, too, had a good excuse to be tardy.

Beautiful, a redhead, and sharp, her nickname was just a true for her as it was for the others. She was a great homicide detective before her rape and stabbing that landed her in insurance selling, and could make any suspect talk, having a vast variety of ways to do so.

Though like a big sister, family was something she couldn't really pull off. She had a 16-year-old son, sharp and beloved by her, and a husband whom she did love, but was struggling with. He had made a mistake that had almost killed her, and now, they were trying to keep the family together. He never enjoyed the thought of her being in homicide and the Apaches, thinking it was too dangerous for her; not to mention, she was a terrible cook.

As she sat herself down at their table, next to Boomer, Nunzio came back, wiping sweat from his face. "Thank god they all owe me, cause otherwise, I'd been at the barrel end of a few guns."

Rev. Jim grinned at him, "Well, mercs do hate it when they're pulled away from their pasta."

"For the record, it was salad and pizza," Nunzio retorted back. Wiping his hands on the rag around his shoulder, he glanced at all of them. "So, you all want something?"

Boomer shrugged after exchanging a look with Dead-Eye. "It's your party, Nunz. Not that I don't have anything better to do anyways, and always love hanging around here…"

"Some of us do have spouses and kids that hate having their together time cut down," Dead-Eye added, nodding at Mrs. Columbo.

Nunzio winced. "I understand. But, this might be long, so unless you all ate, what'll it be?"

-.-T-T

After Geronimo's plate had been served to him, Nunzio took a seat, sipped his wine, and began, "Let's start with me having a lady friend."

Rev. Jim coughed loudly, almost choking on his salmon. Pins pounded his back, as Mrs. Columbo smirked. Rev. Jim, after he got the food unstuck, wheezed, "So the scout has some entertainment?"

The barman glared, shutting him up. "Not that kind, goomba. This one girl, Catty Current, is my sister-in-law's sister, and she's married to this one inventor. Apparently, she and her husband have been experimenting with time…"

-.-T-T(1899)

"…a machine that can travel back and forth in different time periods."

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen sat at their seats at the long table, shocked at the information given to them.

"To what periods, exactly?" Allan Quartermain, legendary hunter and leader of the League, inquired. The thought of traveling through time seemed risky to him, and he was never one to back down on action.

Mycroft Holmes cleared his throat. "We…don't know."

A groan arose from the youngest member. The American Secret Service Spy, Tom Sawyer, huffed, "Well, that's helpful to whatever you've got planned for us. Ow!" he hissed, not daring to glare at the beautiful chemist, Wilhelmina "Mina" Harker for her pinch on his arm. Though pinches from women didn't hurt, the hybrid vampire had sharp nails and strength that surpassed most females of the century.

Holmes glared at the young blonde. "Let me finish. We're not CERTAIN of how far the machine can specifically travel…but it is estimated that it can go as far as 1985 presently. Some of our scientists even hypothesis that from then on, years are added as long as it is still functional."

"So, wot you're sayin is tat a year later, te ruddy machine can travel from te past all te way to 1986?" Rodney Skinner questioned. He stopped, seeing all the stunned looks of his comrades and employer. "Wot? I'm not allowed to know smart tings? I ave been around you scientist mates for a wile, now!"

Dorian Gray scoffed, allowing a smirk to cross his lips, "No…we're just amazed you can actually reason out something almost remotely intelligent without our assistance."

The thief chuckled mockingly with the others, resting his elbow on the table to deliver the handsome immortal a rude gesture with his two fingers.

"Gentlemen, please!" Holmes barked, their attention back on him. He straightened his suit before continuing. "Mr. Skinner might be correct on that assumption (The invisible thief threw everyone a smug look) for most of our top-level scientists believe that as well. However, most of us can only theorize anything from this machine."

"Of what concern does it involve us?" Captain Nemo questioned, his sharp eyes never breaking contact with Holmes's.

"Yes, w-well, that," he stuttered. He composed himself before answering, "I'm not certain of the facts, but I believe the story is…"

-.-T-T(1985)

"…Catty's husband got it to work, and he decided to go to 1899. She's said it's been a week and he's still not back yet," Nunzio finished, taking another sip of his wine.

"He made it work? That's incredible! It must've taken him a while; I would love…to…" Pins trailed off, seeing the strange looks the others gave him. "Never mind."

Geronimo stared back at Nunzio, the fork of pasta in his hand forgotten. "You…did tell her we aren't exactly the kind of people that do that kind of work, right?"

Nunzio stayed silent, as Dead-Eye moaned, "Nunz, we aren't people who go around messing with time machines and other crap from 1800's stories! We deal with criminals, with reality," he pressed.

The barman rolled his eyes. "Think I didn't know that?" He sighed, "Look, I couldn't turn her down. Besides, it does involve something that you guys are good at."

"Better make it quick and good," Mrs. Columbo warned, glancing at her watch. She was supposed to be having dinner with her family, not her six male friends whom her husband, Joe, was already jealous towards.

"Catty told me that two days ago, when she was cleaning, the machine went off and two people stepped out. They had 1800-style clothing, and they were all proper and shit. She told me that they knocked her out, and when she came to, some of her stuff had been looted."

"And…?"

"Get this. Last night, I had a friend of mine told me that a guy he iced had a note that said something about a ball for criminals and lowlifes of all sorts."

Rev. Jim mused, "Why did he loot through his stuff in the first place? I thought they got paid big time."

Nunzio smiled cynically, "You'd be surprised how many get conned of their payment. Sometimes, they have to resort to scavenging."

"And ball? I mean, who uses that kind of talk?"

Boomer frowned, "So, she WAS telling the truth. Only the past used that kind of talk, and I doubt anybody today talks like Shakespeare."

"Unless it's code. I mean, I couldn't understand what the hell that one book about a cheating woman was saying, so nobody else would," Dead-Eye pointed out. "Perfect for trading secrets."

Nunzio shook his head. "Whatever you all think, I'm sticking with Catty. The point, though, is that they're gathering every criminal from New York into a large party, so they gotta be…"

-.-T-T(1899)

"Among the top criminals in the world, specifically wanted in America."

Tom stopped tapping his foot impatiently, gulping with dread. He hesitantly asked, "Ah…um, what are their names?"

Holmes pulled out the folder that had been tucked under his arm. Flipping through it, he hummed before fishing out the document. "Ah-hah! Found you little bugger!" He blinked before shying slightly from the amused looks all around. "Right then. Um, yes. Jackie and William Agamedes, or-" he peered at the names again, "The Corrupt Couple."

Tom cursed loudly. Mina raised an eyebrow, curious to his reaction. "I assume, Sawyer, you know of this people?"

He scoffed, "Ya kiddin me? Half the Secret Service has been on their tails since I joined up."

Dr. Henry Jekyll, who had been quiet battling his alter ego, Edward Hyde, hesitantly spoke up, "So, this couple has gone into the future?"

Holmes grimaced as he nodded. "Yes. I am not certain of their plan…but we can at least theorize that they'll concoct a terror of some sort. In any means possible, they must. Be. Stopped."

Skinner stretched his arms over his head. "So, tis couple ere. Ow bad we talking?"

The American rolled his hazel eyes to the ceiling. "Pretty bad. I heard both are very smart; some even guessed that they have some power. The wife somehow always knows her enemy's attack, and she's pretty sly."

Allan nodded, a dazed look on his old face. "I might've heard a bit on them. Were they the ones who slaughtered that town in Virginia?"

A look of disgust flashed across the woman's face. "I believe I heard that article as well. It also mentioned that the husband might've owned a large business of whorehouses, correct?"

"Rumors are anything. I heard a lot about what they've done, but I've never gotten as high as to know all about them specifically," Tom admitted, slumping in his seat.

Dorian pursed his lips. "So, you are going for the noble 'stopping-them-by-any-means-possible' pursuit?" he asked scathingly.

Holmes nodded. "That's correct."

"But, they're in the future! How can we stop them?" Jekyll reasoned. A bitter grin made its way along the round man's lips.

"Did you really think there was only one machine in the future?"

-.-T-T

Well, that's it. I know, sucky, and this whole fic'll suck, but hey, I'm going to have fun with this! >3