A/N: Ah, a new chapter; I know it's been some time since I'm updated, and I am so sorry! I've been really, really busy, an' the Muses decided they needed a break. But they're back. Which is good.

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen", its characters, technology, and/or anything related to it. The "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" belongs to 20th Century Fox, © 2003. I also do not claim to own any character that appears in this story and/or any technology related to them. These belong to their respective owners.

IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: Some notable characters from classic literature make an appearance in this story, and before you go about correcting me about the dates each of the stories were set in, let me tell you this: the way I date is similar to that of Alan Moore's. I use the date of publication, which is either a little before and/or after 1899 and 1909. Because of this, some plot elements of the original novels might be changed to fit. Also, I have tried to keep their appearances as true to the books as possible; but, please understand, sometimes this is not possible.

Sethoz: I've made you scared? Already? Oh, drat. I was hoping that would come later. ;)

Clez: Eep! -grabs a fan and fans you like crazy- Someone, get Tom Sawyer in here! He's the only one who can wake her up!

Revolution
Chapter 1

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."
- Oscar Wilde

Dante did get his revenge, and he did well; less than three months after Mongolia, while the world was still celebrating the new century, he made his move. The war he waged was brutal, due in part to the machines that M had come up with and also the fearsome Huns from Mongolia that Dante and Reed commanded.

The world hadn't seen such a determined and daring man as Dante in the years since the French Revolution. He was daring, and with Reed, his ever-faithful advisor and best friend, they brought the world to its knees. Pacts and alliances were made, then broken; battles were fought, and lost.

And so it was, that by the end of that fateful year, the whole world bowed to him. At the beginning of 1901, he had already set up the new capital of the empire he named the Second Reich in London, Buckingham Palace as his headquarters. There was no one who dared stop him, because since every single member even remotely related to the Royal Family had been assassinated, most people believed the world to be lost.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, whose tour of the world was interrupted by the outbreak of war, had spread out across the globe: Nemo had rushed back to India to defend his land against the invading forces; Mina, Skinner, and Dr. Jekyll had been safely returned to London amidst terrible bombings; and Tom Sawyer had joined the American Army to ward off the threat of the new empire whose reach had spread more quickly than Alexander the Great before him.

Now, nearly ten years later, the world was Dante's. He had installed himself as King, and Reed, his Prime Minister. Reed was also the Captain of the fearful Kwaden, an elite group of fearsome guards that terrorized the poor.

Dante, the commander-in-chief of all the forces in the world, let his rule be oppressive; concerned with making money, he let some of the world's once-great countries fall into ruin.

The Kwaden and various enforcement organizations around the world had to deal with the Underground, the resistance movement that had cells all around the world. The Underground members were the unspoken heroes of the people, much like how Robin Hood was centuries before.

The leader of the Underground was a mysterious character; rumors and shadows surrounded him. No one save the Underground members knew who he was, and then it was only a few who knew him by name.

It was a universal fact that this man – most of the people weren't even sure if it was a man – was a genius. Some called him a pioneer for freedom, but the government had put a very high bounty on his head. The price for his capture went up every three months but still he remained at large.

Because of this, the Kwaden raided the Old Quarter — the area where the poor people (and, effectively, most of London) lived — frequently, hoping to catch the mysterious Underground leader. It only added to the people's woes, since most of them were struggling to pay the heavy taxes imposed on them. Many turned to the very active black market to get their foodstuffs and various necessities.

But still, children and young women alike idolized the Underground's mysterious leader, who they had dubbed the "Black Duke". How that nickname had surfaced was unknown, but after every daring escapade by the Underground, the half-whispered name would be heard all around the Old Quarter. Even the rich, young women of families high up the social ladder dreamt of the Black Duke finding them and taking them away to Utopia.

Every hero has an enemy, and this was no exception; besides Dante, was Sanderson Reed himself, Prime Minister and commander of the Kwaden.

The invisibility serum that he had taken years ago had stayed strong, and Reed got around that by having made a special skin-like material made for him. He put it on his face, and it did nothing to ease the fear the people felt; the mask was a pasty shade of beige, a lousy attempt to make it look like real skin.

The grim reality of the people living in the Old Quarter was readily apparent in the raids that the Kwaden would make on three or four houses a week; families were evicted, some even sentenced to death.

This week was no different; another crowd had gathered in front of another home.

This time, it was the likable Jackson family that was being evicted from their home. Jackson senior ran a dry goods store a few blocks down from his humble little home, and everybody knew the two children. Marie was a kind and gentle woman, often seen either chasing the children inside or helping her husband out.

The Jacksons were now standing on the street in front of their small house. The two kids clung onto their mother's dress, while Marie was being held by her husband. He stared in disbelief as Reed and the Kwaden looted their home for anything that would pay for their taxes.

Sanderson Reed stood to the side of the scene, his second-in-command next to him. His second-in-command was a mysterious man known only as Chauvelin (#1).

He was a Frenchman from a well-to-do family, lizard-like in appearance. He was young, perhaps in his late twenties or maybe early thirties. Keen dark eyes peered out from a set of deep, sunken eye-holes. He was, undeniably, extremely clever and shrewd, which made him the perfect protégée of Reed's.

Dante, apparently, approved of Chauvelin. Rumors that circulated the marketplaces and between storekeepers said that Chauvelin had been brought from France to England, just so Reed could train him in the ways of the Kwaden.

At any rate, the people knew that Chauvelin was a Reed-in-training; they had no doubt he would be as cruel and cold as his predecessor.

The Jackson children were crying; the older girl, five, was watching her house as it was ransacked, and her sister, barely three years old, sobbed into the skirt of her mother's dress. Jackson senior had a look of disbelief on his face, because along with his house, the Kwaden had seized his shop as well.

The crowd that had gathered to watch did nothing to help the family for fear of reprisal. Amongst the people was a dark-clad figure, hidden in an ebony cloak that covered their face.

Their face was bowed, as if trying to hide their identity; such people were not an uncommon sight in London, or in any part of the world where the rich and powerful did not dwell.

The people took no notice of this person, but it was clear that they were taking a very special interest in the scene that was unfolding.

As the leader of the Kwaden came out of the building, men close behind, Reed ordered the house to be razed. Marie gave a strangled cry, and her younger daughter cried even harder.

Their lives went up in a burst of flame as the torches were thrown onto the ramshackle house. The fires seemed to be the very flames of hell, eating up the homes of the people. The crowd began to disperse, leaving the poor Jackson family to their own devices. Members of the Kwaden regrouped, and marched out of the Old Quarter.

As the people left, so did the dark figure.

Their step was quick and brisk; soon after separating from the main crowd, they turned into an alleyway, taking the backstreets of London instead of the main roads. They kept on walking, for close to half an hour, all the time not taking off their cloak. Occasionally they would cast a glance over their shoulder, checking to see if anyone was following them. No one was, and the figure continued their journey.

Finally, after traveling across the Old Quarter, they stopped near a manhole. Looking around to make sure no one would see, they reached down and pulled off the cover. Quickly disappearing down the ladder, the only evidence that anyone had been there was the echo of the replaced sewer cover.

Down into the darkness the figure went; there were no lights whatsoever, and the sun couldn't filter through the drains, clogged with leaves from the previous night's rain. The figure made their way down with a sure and steady step, as if whoever it was had scaled this ladder and others like it many times before.

Click, click, click; the sound of their footsteps kept on going in the darkness, and, strangely enough, the sound of puddles splashing was absent. The dripping off the water from the walls echoed loudly in the vast tunnel, and the footsteps even more so.

Gradually, though, light seemed to come from nowhere. In front of the walking figure, a spot of light had appeared. The figure went on walking, almost at a run. Soon, the spot of light began to grow bigger, and eventually, became obvious that more than one small light source was present somewhere.

Rounding the corner from where all the light was coming from, the figure passed through a huge cavern filled with people. Most of them were eating from dirty plates and bowls, and many glanced up to see who this new person was. The figure ignored the looks, intent on making it through this cavern and into the adjoining one.

Ten years ago, the British government had embarked on a project to build a new sewage system of the city. Then the war had broken out, and the project was abandoned halfway through, leaving behind a huge network of unfilled caverns.

These had become the safe houses of the Underground, and, eventually, one of them was turned into its headquarters.

The figure made their way through the many dirty men, women, and children, all crowded into the cavern. Torches lit the room up with a brilliant orange glow, and the fires beneath the pots of what smelled like stew only added to the brightness. Most of the people there had been charged with high treason to the state, and the Underground provided shelter for them.

The black-clad person entered the next cavern, where there was more activity. This cavern was a little larger than the first, and also as brightly-lit, but there was where the similarity ended. Tents lined the sides of the square room, each made of scrap canvas to provide their occupants with a little privacy.

This was the headquarters of the Underground; here was where all the raids and attacks were planned. The men in this room recognized the dark figure, and many saluted the Black Duke as he passed. He nodded in return, still intent on getting to the largest tent there.

It was the meeting room, twice the size of the other "rooms". There was a large table inside the meeting room, and it could seat twenty people, if they squeezed.

At the foot of the table, where the chairman of the meeting would sit, there hung a flag.

It was the Underground's only flag, and it was almost sacred to the people.

It had a rendition of a phoenix on a dark gray background. The phoenix was the symbol of the people; one day, the Underground believed that the people of the world would rise from the ashes of an oppressive empire and be reborn, much like a phoenix would.

It was the only one of its kind that existed, believed to have been created by an Armand St. Just (#2) sometime after the war. Unfortunately, St. Just died just after handing it to then-leader of the Underground.

The Black Duke pushed through the heavy material that made the door, and the only other occupant of the room looked up from the map he was consulting.

"Greetings," the man said, "I was beginning to think you had been captured by Dante's men."

The Black Duke threw his hood off his head.

(#1) Chauvelin was the ruthless French agent created by the Baroness Emmuska Orczy in her masterpiece, "The Scarlet Pimpernel", published in 1913.

(#2) Armand St. Just is also a character from "The Scarlet Pimpernel", brother to Marguerite Blankeney (nee St. Just).

Just so you know, "Kwaden" is the Dutch word for "evils". For a picture of the flag, please visit my site, The Shelf.