Revolution
Chapter 7

"The whole earth is in jail and we're plotting this incredible jailbreak."
- Wavy Gravy

In one of the rooms of what was formerly Buckingham Palace — now known as Eroberung Fort — was a room that Dante called his personal study. He worked late here, and today was no exception. What was unusual, though, was the fact that there were two others in the room with him.

Reed looked through records predating the rule of the Second Reich; the occasional floating papers were the only indication he was there at all. To the corner, near the large bookshelf that covered a full wall of the massive room, Chauvelin handed old registers of medical schools of and around London.

The King himself was at the handsome teak desk, going through fairly recent medical journals.

Dante slammed a hand down on the worn teak desk, causing everything on it to jump three inches into the air, while making a sound of sheer frustration.

Chauvelin's brow raised slightly as he looked up from one of the old, dusty tomes he had been searching for the past few hours. Reed put down the ship manifest he had been holding.

"Damn this League!" Dante exclaimed, face red with anger and irritation. "Damn them to the very depths of hell!"

"Dante, calm down," Reed said coolly. "We'll find them. They couldn't have disappeared completely, even after the war." Chauvelin nodded in agreement, trying to placate his suprieror.

Dante stood up, his palms resting on the tabletop. "We've been searching for a full decade already, Reed," he said, through clenched teeth. "And we still haven't found any trace of them!"

Chauvelin tried to ignore the fact that Dante was turning redder by the minute; in fact, he wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not. Even on good days, Dante was never a man slow to temper. The fact that he held the world in his palm probably contributed to that.

"Why...why is it," Dante asked no one in particular, "That they are so damned hard to find, even with assumed names?"

"We've searched every possible medical facility in Europe, both registered and otherwise, and then some," Reed pointed out. "We still have a ways to go before we can be sure they're still around."

Dante glowered at his second-in-command.

"Sirs, if I may speak freely...?" Chauvelin interjected, glancing from one man to the next. Reed nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and Dante did. "Well," he said, replacing the thick volume he held back into the bookcase, "From the sounds of this League, they would be scattered around the world. But, if we take this Dr. Henry Jekyll as an example, it would be reasonable to assume that he would be practicing as some form of medical consultant, in lieu with his training in medicine."

"Yes, Chauvelin, we have already deduced that," Reed said dryly, from his corner of the room.

Chauvelin nodded, as Dante waved the other man to silence. "Yes, sirs, but it would be more than likely that he would be practicing in a government or legal institution. Hiding under our noses, so to speak — where we would least expect to find him. This would also be true for the others, with, perhaps, the exception of the thief."

Reed was nodded, but he couldn't see it. "He has a point, Dante."

"I know he does," the king of the world snapped. "What are you suggesting, Chauvelin?"

"That we go through every single record of every legal or government-run medical facility in Europe."

"That shouldn't be too hard," Reed chipped in, "Considering how few of those there are."

"Good thinking, Chauvelin," Dante nodded. The Frenchman merely inclined his head, and took up another volume from the shelf, going back to his searching.

Noon was a particularly busy time for the Old Quarter. Men and women alike had an hour off for lunch, and the street was full of people.

This was especially true in Limehouse, as Mina tried as best she could to blend in with the Chinese and other Asian races that thronged the street. She was looking for Quong Lee's, a fairly popular place among her Chinese counterparts.

She found it soon enough; a sign that said "Quong Lee: Purveyor of Fine Tea" swung from its mounting that was shaped as a Chinese dragon. Below it were Mandarin characters that Mina assumed to be the same, merely in a different language (#1).

She pushed open the door to the shop, surveying the small place with an eye honed for alertness. The old Chinese man, dressed in robes that she had seen other Chinese wearing, turned around from his place at the back of the counter.

He looked at her, and the two examined each other for a few moments before Mina spoke.

"Mr. Quong," she said, "I was told to come here."

Quong Lee nodded. "You come for the Duke."

"Yes. He told me to come here."

Quong Lee did not reply to this; instead, he gestured at a curtain that Mina had assumed led to the upper floors of the establishment. Nodding her thanks, the vampire walked through it and found that it connected with a staircase that led down.

Her eyes quickly adjusting to the dimness of the passage, Mina descended. As she went lower and lower, she was conscious of the faint sound of water lapping against cement.

So, she thought, this leads under the level of the Thames.

At the foot of the stairs, she was met by a young boy with a stained beret on top of dirty blond locks. The boy held a lantern, and she followed as he led her through the vast maze of tunnels.

It took about a quarter of an hour for them to arrive at their destination. Eventually, Mina spotted a thick door, and the boy knocked on it.

"Mrs. Harker's 'ere," he said, and the door was pulled open. With a small bow, the boy left her, and Mina entered the headquarters of the Underground.

Within two minutes she found herself in the company of her old League members.

Skinner had been surprised enough to see Nemo and Jekyll alive, especially the former; it had distracted him from his examination of the flag that was mounted on the wall.

His breath had caught in his throat when Mina had entered. Of course, all hopes of wooing her again had left him years ago, but she was still so beautiful, so graceful...

"Good day, Doctor, Captain, Skinner," she said curtly, nodding to each in turn.

It amused the thief to see that Jekyll stumbled over his greeting. Nemo merely nodded, while he gave a cheery wave.

"Years've been kind to you, eh, Mina?" he said, a little too cheerfully for his own good. He knew she was a vampire, and therefore unable to age physically. She raised a brow.

"I trust they have been the same to you," she replied, as icy as the first time they had met.

"No, not really," he said, looking around. "They haven't been, not to most of the world."

Mina couldn't reply, because Tom swept in just then, followed by Damon.

"It's great to see all of you here," Tom said, smiling, "If you'll take your seats, I can start."

"Don't be like that."

"Don't be like what?" Tom asked, looking up at the speaker. Damon leaned against the wall below the Underground's flag, had been watching him for the past ten minutes.

"That." Damon pointed at him. "Doesn't take one of Dante's scientists to know how you feel right now."

The American laughed without humor. "I'd use the word 'defeated'."

"Exactly." Damon pushed himself off the wall. "They all may have refused, but we can do without them."

"I thought they'd agree," Tom said, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. "All those years ago — they'd been dedicated to fighting off M, and then Dante...but now, they don't want a part of this. I don't understand it."

"People change," the other man said gently. "You, of all people, should know that. Ten years ago, did you really think you'd be the leader of a huge international organization?"

"No," Tom admitted, his face back in his hands. "But I thought —"

"You thought wrong, my friend. Don't fret over it. We'll be able to give Dante his just desserts without them. Cheer up. It's not the end of the world."

Tom looked up. "You really think so?"

A ghost of a smile passed over Damon's features. "Hey, I learned the optimism from you." He was rewarded with a small smile.

"Alright," Tom said, standing up with a renewed vigor, "You're right. It's not the end of the world...yet, anyway. How are our arrangements for the meeting?"

"Grand, my friend, just grand."

Reed almost ran to Dante's office. He didn't bother to knock, but just barged in.

The other ministers inside turned around, shocked by the intrusion. Dante opened his mouth to speak, but Reed beat him to it.

"I have news of the utmost importance," he announced, a little breathless from his near-run down the corridors of Eroberung Fort. "News that must be relayed to the King immediately."

Dante raised a brow, but waved his other ministers away. "Wait outside."

They complied, and the invisible man — his presence made ghastly by his 'skin' — moved aside to let them pass. When the last of them had left, closing the door behind them:

"What is it?"

"The Black Duke," Reed said breathlessly, flushed with unseen excitement. "I know who and where the Black Duke is!"

"What? How?" Dante leaned forward in his seat.

"My contact informed me; request permission to arrest him immediately."

"Raid the area if you must, Reed! Capture the Black Duke at whatever cost!"

Tom had barely put his keys down on the table when the door burst open and the Kwaden swarmed in. He was at gunpoint before he could even move.

Reed strode in. "You are under arrest for high treason," the ex-crony of M said triumphantly.

"I have nothing to do with treason," Tom countered. He raised his chin slightly, letting a faint Scottish accent creep into his voice. "I have served the people as I can."

"Lies, Sawyer, lies," Reed said, smirking. "Or, should I say...the Black Duke?"

The horror in having been found out showed in Tom's eyes, even though he tried to hide it. The crowd that had gathered at the door started to murmur amongst themselves. Snatches of "Caine, the Black Duke!" and "To think he was my neighbor...!" could be heard.

"Submit gracefully, Sawyer," Reed sneered. "Otherwise my men willhurt you."

"Like you tried to kill me in Mongolia?" the revolutionary leader spat.

"Nothing of that kind," Reed said. "We want you alive for a fair trial, after all."

Why do I doubt that? Tom thought dryly. No one was given a fair trial these days. "Somehow I doubt that." Out of the corner of his eye, he tried to locate his Winchester. He was unarmed now; if he could get to any of his weapons, he stood a chance. A small chance, yes, but a chance nonetheless. Stupid move, Tom...never go out unarmed. That was what Sam taught you. And what do you do? You go out unarmed!

He saw the long roll of cloth that hid the rifle. He could make a leap for it, and maybe escape...

"Submit gracefully," Reed said. "I'm giving you a choice."

"Fat chance in hell," Tom said through clenched teeth, before making a dive for the table. The Kwaden opened fire with their deadly automatic rifles, a spray of bullets showering through the floor where he had stood. The crowd outside screamed and fled, away from the danger.

Tom used every ounce of his Secret Service training, dodging the bullets and trying to get the rifle. He flipped the table over, trying to buy himself some time. Reed was yelling 'Don't kill him! We need him alive!' while he struggled to get the roll of cloth off the gun.

They were advancing. The elite of Dante's men had no idea what Tom had with him behind the table, and they were cautious about approaching. Finally! It was folly to have wrapped the cloth so tight around the gun — and going out without any weapon whatsoever — he knew now, but when he had hid it his main purpose was for it not to be found.

"Freeze!" Tom said, appearing over the top of the table and aiming the gun at Reed's chest. "Or I shoot!" He could see the Kwaden hesitate; their leader was at risk — would they risk killing him?

"Hold your fire!" Reed ordered, very conscious of the barrel pointed at his chest. "Sawyer, you're outnumbered. Give it up."

Tom hoped to god that the Underground's men had heard the news already — the gunfire must have alerted someone, surely — and were on their way. He had no idea how long he could last.

"No," Tom replied firmly. C'mon, c'mon, Damon, where are you? He thought frantically. Arsène was a face he would have been very glad to see right now.

One of the Kwaden made a step forward, and Tom swung the rifle around and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

The gun was empty.

Oh, sh —

And that was the last thing that went through Tom Sawyer's head before the butt of someone's gun hit him in the head.

(#1) I have no idea how the tea shop looks like in Burke's book (Thomas Burke, mentioned in the footnotes to chapter three, created Quong Lee); this description of Quong Lee's tea shop is taken from the first volume of the LXG comics.