For those of you who are inquiring, yes, LXG 2: Apocalypse is on hiatus.
Crystal Nox: Please, do tell who you think it is…Don't keep me in suspense!
BloodMoonLycan: You, too. Tell me who you think it is! And don't cheat. –Shifty look-
TARilus: That, my intrepid reviewer, shall all be explained the text that follows.
Revolution
Chapter 2
"If you are going through hell, keep going."
- Sir Winston Churchill
Tom Sawyer's blue eyes blazed with anger, and the other man's mood sobered instantly.
"Damon," Tom said, taking off his cloak and leaving it carelessly hung over the seat of one chair, "Reed's done it again."
Damon Archer sighed. "Who was it this time?"
"The Jacksons," Tom answered. "They razed the house."
Damon sighed again, picking up one of the folders that were left scattered on the tabletop. Opening it, he looked at the papers inside. "Arsène's team is on patrol now," he said, closing the folder, "They'll take good care of the Jacksons, so you don't need to worry. Arsène and his people are amongst the best in the recovery patrol."
Tom nodded. He knew that…he trusted Lupin (#1), the witty thief of London's streets and close ally of the Underground.
The recovery patrol was responsible for helping evicted families like the Jacksons find places to stay in, so they could get back on their feet again. They were an inaugural part of the Underground's efforts to help the people tide the times over, until there was freedom and justice in the world again.
Which, at the rate of things, would be soon.
"How are our arrangements for the meeting?" Tom asked, leaving his cloak draped over the back of a nearby chair and coming to stand beside Damon.
The younger man pointed at the map that took up most of the table. "We got the last confirmations while you were out. Greenland and Asia arrive in London next week, along with the rest."
Tom nodded. Damon was more than capable for his role as the Black Duke's assistant. "What about the others? Have you been able to track them down?"
Damon looked thoughtful, and turned to his friend and leader. "I still have doubts over whether they will help us, Tom. Ten years can change a lot of things, especially people's mindsets."
Tom sighed. They had had this discussion before, many times. "Trust me on this." He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "They'll help us."
Damon still looked skeptical. "I don't know, Tom. A lot of things can change in ten years, especially people."
All the Underground's leader could offer him was a pat on the back.
Dante leaned back in his chair, taking a break from the hectic duties of being king of the world. It was raining outside, as usual. London never had been a very sunny place, but it seemed a little rainier and colder after the Great War.
Dante could hear the men and guards pattering about outside the grand chamber that was his study. It was his second study, really; there was his private one, the one located next to his chambers, and this one, adjacent to the meeting hall, where daily business was conducted.
The king of the world was a busy man; everyday, he had all sorts of little matters to attend to. They were the kind that weren't very big, but still needed his attention.
Dante rubbed his temples, thinking of the tedious chores that he would have to go through later. Reed was due back within the hour, after his weekly raids of Old quarter. Dante wondered what Reed would bring back this time…a precious family heirloom, perhaps.
The study was covered in them. The heirlooms weren't Dante's; they had been taken from the homes of families that had been evicted in the past ten years.
On the desk, there was a paperweight from Germany, the homeland of his mother; a gold cup, said to be part of King Solomon's treasures, and a small silver lion that Dante used to smash fingers with. The last victim of the "knuckle-breaker lion", as it had become known as, was an unfortunate messenger sent by Dante's men in France.
Ten years of sheer power all over the world hadn't changed Dante much; he was still the same determined man, not stupid, but in fact a brilliant military strategist. Many had thought him to be a mere lackey during M's reign of supremacy in Europe's crime world, but Dante had helped Moriarty plan the moves and work out the logistics. He was much smarter than he looked.
Dante was thinking about the ball he had to attend tonight when there was a sudden drop in movement outside. Dante could hear it. He looked up just as a familiar knock came at the door.
"Come in," Dante ordered. Reed was early today. As his Prime Minister entered the room, the Treasurer behind him, clipboard in hand, Dante didn't move.
"My lord," the Treasurer said, giving a low bow, "What the Kwaden seized from the homes of the three families is not even enough to pay for the taxes one of them owe the state."
Dante sighed, and made an airy gesture for the Treasurer to leave. Giving another low bow, his nose nearly touching the marble floor, the wizened old man left. There was silence between the two as the large door closed with an ominous bang.
"So," Dante started, "Did you manage to get any of those Underground cretins?"
Reed shook his head. "We do have information, though…we believe they're planning something on a large scale." At this, Dante sat up a little straighter. He had seen this coming years ago, and now…now it seemed that he was right.
"What are you talking about?" Dante asked, resting his elbows on the table.
"Our spies in the Underground tell us that there is going to be a meeting of some sort next week," Reed said. "We are not sure when, or where…but we do know that the leaders of the Underground will be in London by next week."
Dante stood up. The Underground resistance movement was the one threat to his absolute power. Giving a small sigh, he headed for the door, Reed coming to walk next to him. The two left the study, and down the corridor towards the meeting hall.
"Our contact," Reed continued, "Says that whatever they're planning shall take place within a timeframe of three months."
"Did they manage to find out who the Black Duke is?" Dante asked, as they walked past bowing lieutenants.
Reed shook his head, and his plastic-like "skin" flapped oddly. It was a disgusting thing, the "skin", but greasepaint had proved too troublesome; it smudged too often. "He's not held in full trust by members of the Underground yet; remember, Dante, he just joined their ranks."
Reed was the only one who could call Dante by his name and not get executed; it was no secret that Reed had been instrumental in Dante's hostile takeover of the world.
"Reed," Dante frowned, pausing at the door of the meeting hall, "You know we have to get rid of this Black Duke. Without him —"
"— the Underground will collapse," Reed finished. "I know. We are trying our best…but this damned Duke is elusive."
"Try harder," Dante ordered. "I want him dead." Reed inclined his head slightly to show he understood. "Good. I'll see you at the Congress meeting next week."
"Yes, sir," Reed said, and then, as if as an afterthought, "Noah Caine is going to be there."
"The man the people voted for?"
"That's him. They say he's going to present another proposition for more rights for the common people, and Zalma von der Pahlen (#2) is going to be there to support him."
Dante gave an inward groan. The two most active (and stubborn) members of the Congress were Zalma, a beautiful young woman with a fiery disposition and a lot of determination, and Noah Caine, a young man from Edinbrough. Zalma and Caine were the only two Congress members the people had voted for. After seeing how stubborn and cunning these two were, Dante had stopped letting the people elect members of Congress. It was too much a risk to his power. "Another proposition?"
"I'm afraid so," Reed answered. "Apparently, this time they are really going to push for it to get approved."
Dante made a noise that signaled his indignation. "I am King. Nothing by them will get approved."
Reed inclined his head again. "You are King," he echoed. "Long live the Second Reich!" He clenched his fist and rested it against his chest, where his heart was.
"Hail!" Dante responded, doing likewise, as was required. With a nod, he disappeared into the meeting room, while Reed continued on his way.
That night, Tom sat in his apartment, looking over documents that were related to the Underground's work. They were written in code, and although they looked harmless enough, they contained all the details of what would be happening next week.
This is what Sam had been working for, Tom thought, taking a break from his work and looking out the window, This is what he worked five years for.
The American stood up and walked over to the window. It was open, but Tom didn't mind the chilly air that came in. He put his hands in his pockets, a habit that he hadn't really kicked. He sighed, and thought of all that had happened in the past ten years.
After the League, he'd gone back to America, joining the Voluntary Army Corps to help fight off Dante and his invasion. He hadn't seen the members of that…that escapade after that, but he did know Mina, Jekyll and Skinner had returned to London, and Nemo to India, all for the same purpose — to fend of Dante and his relentless attack on the free world.
The only reason they had split up was because they hadn't really made friends with each other, after Allan's death. The tour around the world had been meant to accomplish that end, but they didn't get the chance to finish it; Dante had made his declaration of war just after the New Year with a strike in Amiens, bringing France under their control within two months.
Dante and Reed had proved a formidable pair, bringing nations to their knees and countries to tremble. Reed, for a diplomat, had been a remarkable field commander…and Dante had proved to be a deadly strategist.
The world had fallen, within a space of a year, and Dante set up his capital in London, as if a slap in the face to the League members, who they had never found.
After that, Tom had left America. Aunt Polly had been killed when she was caught in a crossfire; Amy Lawrence had been a field nurse, where she had been shot; Becky Thatcher had gone MIA while doing counter-intelligence. Most of his childhood friends had been killed in the initial battles, while others were executed for various crimes against the state. The town of St. Petersburg was a much smaller and quieter place now.
Tom sighed, saddened. The Secret Service had become part of the Kwaden after Dante's takeover.
When he had come to London, Tom had gotten to know the man who lived next door; his name was Samuel Masters. Sam had been a middle-aged man who had been everywhere and seen everything, much like Allan Quatermain ten years before. Sam had worked as a bookkeeper for one of the larger companies in London.
Tom had treated Sam like his father, or perhaps like Allan. The two had forged a strong bond when Sam introduced him to the Underground.
True, Tom had heard of the Underground's resistance efforts before, but he had never met a member of the vast organization before. His surprise had only been made greater by the fact that Sam was the Underground's leader.
"I see potential in you, Tom," Sam had said, "I can see you leading the Underground one day."
He'd declined, of course; he didn't want anything to do with politics or resistance. Life had gone on. Of course, he'd never told anyone. Two years later, a tip-off from an insider led to Sam's arrest and then execution.
Tom had been there. He'd heard the screams of the children as they saw their beloved Uncle Sam get shot. He'd seen the tears. He'd seen the horrified looks. After that, he swore justice.
1904 was the year Tom Sawyer took over as leader of the Underground. Few had questioned him; almost everyone knew that Sam had trusted him with his life, although there was some dissent.
In the five years since then, the Underground had spread from Europe to the world. Tom had closed negotiations Sam had started and opened new ties with other countries.
He glanced at the papers on the table. There were all the arrangements for the meeting next week. The Underground's top ten would assemble in London to determine the course of action, a plan that, after almost nine years, would finally come into fruition.
The time has come, he thought. It's time to take action.
(#1) Arsène Lupin is the star of a series of short stories by Maurice Leblanc. Lupin, a thief and a master of disguise, made his first appearance in "The Arrest of Arsène Lupin" (1905).
(#2) Zalma von der Pahlen was created by British writer T. Mullett Ellis in Zalma (1895). Zalma is an illegitimate Russian-Spanish princess, who later in life, turns into a revolutionary. In the events of the novel she plans to send anthrax-filled balloons into the capitals of Europe.
On a side note, Revolution now has its own site. Please visit my homepage for a link.