Marcus Lazarus: Oh, horrors, no. I would never steal anything from you. I have way too much respect for you to do something like that. I got the 'Dr. J' from my brother — he shortens almost everybody's last names (i.e. I would become Miss S, etc.).

Alys: Yay! Cookie! -grins-

DiabloCat: The last time I touched a copy of Moby Dick must have been almost six years ago. Oo But I still do remember only one line: 'Call me Ishmael'.

Revolution
Chapter 14

"Why does the guerrilla fighter fight? We must come to the inevitable conclusion that the guerrilla fighter is a social reformer, that he takes up arms responding to the angry protest of the people against their oppressors, and that he fights in order to change the social system that keeps all his unarmed brothers in ignominy and misery."
- Ernesto "Che" Guevara

Skinner followed as Tom led the way through the huge cavern, nodding to the guards posted all along the area. They were armed with various guns, none of which matched; there were Webleys, Colts and Winchesters, among others.

They were prepared for an assault, it seemed, and they had good reason to — if the Black Duke had been captured, what hope was there for them?

Tom pulled open the canvas flap that was the 'door' of the meeting tent. All those who had been talking turned to see who the newcomer was, and the black cat in the woman's arms leapt to the ground, coming up to Tom and purring.

Skinner was surprised at how diverse the group inside was. The League members and Damon not included, there were eight others.

The only woman in the group was a stunning specimen of feminine beauty. True, her nose was a little too big for classic beauty, but her mesmerizing green eyes and long, manicured nails more than made up for that. Her full lips were slightly parted, enhancing her well-cut features. The dress she wore was a stunning shade of emerald, and Skinner recalled Tom mentioning that green was the color of the Si-Fan. She was clearly Asian, but could pass off for a European without too much difficulty. The thief didn't need to be a scientist to know that this was Fah Lo Suee.

Opposite her was an undeniably handsome man. Even though he was sitting down, he was almost half a head taller than everyone else. His broad shoulders set off the tailored coat he wore nicely, and his blue eyes were just as brilliant as the woman's. He looked like a noble, but he had tanned skin. It was more of a light chocolate brown than a dark tan of a field worker. On closer inspection, Skinner saw a thin sword hanging by the man's side, the kind used for fencing. So, this is Percy Blakeney, Skinner thought.

Next to him was another man. Skinner gauged him to be slightly taller than the average man. Like Percy, he had broad shoulders, but his limbs were slim. They were muscular, Skinner could tell as much. A head full of glossy black hair matched his piercing dark eyes. His skin was of an olive hue, and his clothes were neatly pressed. The cat in Sue had been holding had leapt down from her arms, and slinked its way to him. Skinner recognized him from Tom's description, and the cat confirmed his theory. This was Dr. Nikola.

Beside him was Mina; the three seats on her other side were empty. Probably for us and Damon, Skinner said, glancing at Tom's lieutenant, who stood to the side.

At the other end of the table from Percy, Skinner saw the quiet Robur — tall, dark and handsome. His features suggested some kind of Eastern European heritage. He had taken off his disguise as one of the Dante's Aerial Attack Force officers, and now his semi-militaristic uniform was in full view. Unlike Nemo's, though, it bore no Eastern influence.

Across the table was his marine counterpart. The Indian captain was beside the fidgety Dr. Jekyll. He, in turn, sat next to AJ Raffles.

AJ had hair the color of sand. He was probably in his early-forties or so, judging by the lines on his face — then again, those might have been caused by stress. He had a rigid jaw which went hand-in-hand with his slightly-curled nose. His features were carved in granite by a sculptor with an eye for detail and masculine beauty.

There was a younger man who sat next to him looked to be Tom's age. Skinner knew this was Joseph Harper, or Joe, as Tom called him. The boyish looks, the chocolate hair and green eyes were like Tom's — full of youthful enthusiasm.

He had been speaking to a much older man on his right. Ahab's face showed clear signs of years at sea, and his wooden leg was easy to notice. What hair he had was sun-tanned, but there was evidence that it had once been a light blond. He had a thin face — probably due to the lack of meat while at sea — but the dark orbs that stared out of the shrunken eyes were so haunted they were unsettling. Skinner had to look away.

Captain Black was, as Tom had told him, short. He was the shortest of those present, a sharp contrast to the massive Percy. He had a cigar in his mouth, and his head was almost hidden behind the gray smoke that wafted about his person. He was dressed entirely in black, as if in mourning. There was no doubt that once, a long time ago, he was handsome — but the years had withered him, made him harder. Like Ahab, his skin was weather-beaten. And like Ahab, his black eyes were testament to what the years had dealt him.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," Tom apologized as he made his way to his seat. Skinner followed, and dutifully sat down in the chair that Tom gestured to. It was next to his own, next to Robur. "We had to get in by the duct."

"I hope we don't have to repeat that ever again," Skinner muttered under his breath. If anybody heard it, they did not give any indication. Damon sat next to Tom, who remained standing.

"You all know why we're here," he said, leaning forward to that his palms rested on the table. Keen blue eyes looked each and every one present with a seriousness and gravity that came along with the fate of the known world. "And I think you're all sure what the outcome of our meeting will be."

"That leaves us with only a few things to discuss," he continued. "The most important thing being: when do we mobilize our forces?"

To say that Dante was not happy was the understatement of several centuries.

A distinct roaring had come from his study in sporadic bursts. The corridor outside was almost empty, and when people did pass it, they hurried by, hoping that they wouldn't be unlucky enough to be there when the roaring continued.

Dante hadn't left his study since the Black Duke's escape. Reed had gone in, and in the past two days no one had entered or left that room. Chauvelin hung around; he had nothing to do outside his normal duties, and even those were finished his usual meticulous care.

It was already past sundown, and Chauvelin was about to end his day's worth of loitering when the doors to the king's personal study opened and a tired-looking Reed came out.

"Rest assured the Kwaden shall be ready," he was saying. On instinct, Chauvelin slipped into a dark archway, an unseen observer. Reed had his hat in hand; the 'skin' he had been wearing when Tom had escaped was nowhere to be seen. He halted in front of the study door, where one could just make out Dante's silhouette. "Long live the Second Reich!" He clenched his fist and rested it where his heart was.

"Hail!" Dante responded. With a nod, Reed left.

Chauvelin waited until Reed's echoing footsteps faded, and the click of the study door closing was heard before venturing out of his hiding place.

Something was up.

"Ahab?" Tom looked directly at the haunted sea captain, "What d'you say?"

He paused before answering. "It will be very risky — I shall need the same amount of supplies as Black, perhaps more — but if we can destroy Dante's repair and restock units, they will be put at a serious disadvantage."

"Make a list of targets and work your way down from there," Tom nodded, turning to his long-time friend. "Joe? How about it?"

"We'll show them American spirit alright," Joe Harper nodded. "We're sending folks to Washington as we speak. Weapons should reach 'em by next Monday, latest."

"Good," Tom nodded again. "Sue, how does Asia fare?"

Sue replied in crisp, concise tones. "Our Singapore port is ready to deploy battleships, should Captain Ahab need any assistance, and for our own use. China and India have confirmed that medical supply and food shipments have been sent out. Asia is ready."

"Great," Tom leaned back in his seat. "Great. The world's ready for war."

There was a pause as everyone gathered their thoughts. Skinner felt compelled to speak up. "Sawyer...what happens to the League?"

"Don't worry," the American smiled. "I haven't forgotten about you guys. You'll be here, in London — we're gonna bring down Dante at the heart of his empire, and we're gonna need all the manpower and talent we can get."

The League members nodded, agreeing. Dante was heavily guarded — Reed had his Kwaden — and there was always the risk that Dante could turn into the Dante-beast at will. Jekyll still had nightmares about it, while Hyde would gladly give for another chance to have a go at the monster.

"We still haven't decided on a date yet," Damon pointed out.

"Right," Tom nodded again. "Any suggestions?"

There were none. Mistoffelees leapt lightly from Nikola's shoulder, where it had been curled up, and onto the table. From beneath the pile of documents on the table, it used its small mouth to pull out one at the very bottom.

Everyone leaned in to see what it was. The intelligent cat had pulled out a calendar. It used a paw to flip the calendar from June to July, and used the same paw to pat on a date emphatically.

"Begad, Nikola," Percy exclaimed, "Your cat gets smarter by the day!"

Nikola inclined his head with quiet pride. Mistoffelees meowed and went back to its owner, curling up close to him, its keen cat-eyes gleaming in the low light.

The general reaction to the cat's choice of date was nods and approving looks. Skinner had no idea why July 11th meant so much; after all, his memories of the past ten years consisted of opium dazes, Owen's brief stay, more drugs, and drink.

"What's so important about July 11th?" he asked outright. The looks he got caused him to wince; some were of quiet amusement and surprise, while others were just plain surprised. Sue and Percy shared a look of passive disapproval.

"Every July 11th Dante celebrates his ascension to kingship," Damon supplied. "Despite the fact that everyone knows he has no legitimate claim to any title of nobility."

Tom looked thoughtful. "He'll want to stage a parade of some kind. The latest rumor from the kids in the street is that he's planning a bigger and brighter procession than last year's."

"We can move then," he continued. "We strike hard and we strike fast. We show them what the people can do."

"Cry 'Havoc!' and let loose the dogs of war," Sue quoted.

"Shakespeare couldn't have said it better," Tom agreed.

Skinner nodded, and stretched his arms. "It's about time the Second Reich got their royal backsides handed back to them on a silver platter."