Bloody Griffin: It's nice to know that you're enjoying Revolution. As a writer, though, I feel a need to defend myself, and my work. You mentioned the dating system I use; this is somewhat controversial, I can understand. In my note in chapter one, I said that my dating system is similar to Mr. Moore's, not exactly the same. Granted, it has some loopholes in it, but it's working for me all fine an' dandy. The Scarlet Pimpernel was published in 1913, which would put it in the right timeframe. True, it was set during the French Revolution, which was about two centuries before — but there's something in the upcoming chapters that will explain that. As for Arsène and Sir Henry Curtis; I wanted to use both, but I haven't been able to read King Solomon's Mine or The Arrest of Arsène Lupin — as such, I was afraid that I would write them grossly out of character. And that would be an outrage.
Revolution
Chapter 17
Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Then join in the fight
That will give you the right to be free!
Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
Will you give all you can give
So that our banner may advance
Some will fall and some will live
Will you stand up and take your chance?
The blood of the martyrs
Will water the meadows of France!
Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
- "Do You Hear The People Sing?", Les Miserables
There seemed to be a worldwide roar at Tom's statement; those in the cavern had started cheering, and it had spread past the cavern and into the streets. Or it started in the streets and spread to the cavern, Skinner couldn't be sure. All he knew was that there was cheering and roaring, and he joined in.
Tom motioned for silence, then spoke into the microphone again.
"I will give you one last chance to surrender, Dante," he said forcefully. "Hand over control of the world to the Underground and there will be no fighting. If you do not surrender, the Underground will fight to the very last man to ensure that the world is freed."
There was a pause on the other end, then something that sounded like a growl. The silence in the cavern became thick with tension as the world waited for an answer.
"Black Duke," Dante's voice finally came, "I know where you come from." Tom's eyes widened at this, and Damon and Skinner glanced at each other. "A small little town, isn't it? Near the river. St. Petersburg, isn't it?"
Cat Beth Ceky strolled through the streets of St. Petersburg, waving to her friends as she made her way to her home.
Ten years ago, Becky Thatcher had disappeared while doing counter-intelligence for the American government. She was believed dead, probably buried in one of the Second Reich's mass graves. St. Petersburg had grieved, even held a service for her even though there was no body.
Two weeks after the funeral, Cat had arrived, glad that her old self had been buried.
Cat waved to some children. St. Petersburg had been largely untouched by the Great War and the Second Reich; it was too insignificant to care about. Life went on; she lived in the residence of Polly Sawyer, serving as both a tenant and someone to take care of the aging woman. Sidney had left some time ago on a business trip — he was in the timber supply business — and Tom had been killed in the Great War.
Few people actually listened to Dante's speeches, but most of the men were cooped up in Amy Lawrence's home. There came a sudden cheer from within, and Cat just shook her head. Boys, she thought. Always cheering when someone wins the pool match.
Cat was close to the house when there was a sudden rumbling. Turning, she watched in horror as the houses on the edge of town went up in a ball of flame. She froze in fear; all her Secret Service training left her in one big rush of certainty that this time, she was going to die for good.
The explosions kept on going; deafening roars of fire and booms filled the area as screaming townsfolk ran for their lives.
Somebody was grabbing her arm; Amy.
"Cat! Come on!" Amy was screaming, pulling her by the arm. Snapped out of her reveries, Cat started running. The explosions were coming closer and closer, faster and faster — so that was what the Second Reich officials had been doing the week before, planting bombs! — and the two woman ran for their lives.
People who had not been able to clear the area screamed as the fireballs erupted from the ground. Cat glanced over her shoulder in distress; the explosions were coming closer.
"Amy!" Cat screamed. "We're not going to make it!"
The explosion beneath their feet ensured that they didn't.
Someone ran up to Joe — it was Nick Carter (#1), visiting from New York's Underground. Nick whispered into his ear a few words, and Joe looked at him.
"Are you sure?" he whispered, pale as a sheet. Nick nodded, and gestured for him to follow. Joe complied, nearly running to the nearest subway entrance. They descended the steps, making their way past the booths and onto the tracks. The station was almost empty, and they were soon inside the abandoned underground train station that served as the American Underground's base of operations.
"...isn't it?" Dante's voice over the radio said. The small portable radio sat on the table, near where Joe was staring in disbelief at the lit map on the table.
One way of keeping track of the large cell of the Underground in North America was to plant a beacon in each town and city that had a cell of a certain size. The little red dot that represented St. Petersburg was unlit; the beacon had been destroyed."Send men to check it out," he said hoarsely, terrified of what they might find. "Now. There's another town down the river...get the men from there."
Nick nodded, and dashed off to relay the orders. He was back in less than a minute, and the expression on his face made Joe pale even more. Nick's words confirmed everything.
"I'm sorry."
"St. Petersburg had just gone up in a fiery explosion," Dante said, and Joe stared at the radio in horror, "As I'm sure the American Underground will know."
Joe grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper from the desk, and wrote down a quick message. He shoved it into Nick's hands, ordering him to send the telegram to London.
As Nick ran off to comply again, Joe sank into a chair someone had thoughtfully provided. St. Petersburg was gone and everyone in it. His family, his friends...everyone. Gone.
In London, the telegram receiver got the message and wrote it down. He handed it to one of the men nearby, who then pushed his way through the crowd surrounding Tom and handed him the message.
Like Joe, Tom paled when he read the message:
FOR BLACK DUKE ONLY STOP ST PETERSBURG DESTROYED STOP DOZENS OF EXPLOSIONS STOP REPORTS CONFIRMED STOP SEARCH TEAMS DISPATCHED STOP NO SURVIVORS EXPECTED STOP
He stared at the paper, then crumpled the message with a grip of iron. He spoke into the microphone again.
"You destroyed a whole town," he said hoarsely, fighting back tears. "And everyone in it." A collective gasp came from all of London. He took a breath, and that fortified him somewhat. "The people will rise. You will regret this, I promise you." He gestured at the signal operator to cut the signal, and the man complied.
"Tom — "Damon started, making a move to follow his leader. Tom just shook his head, and Damon backed down.
"I need some time alone," Tom said, head bowed. He held out a hand. "Excuse me." Everyone parted to let him pass; the mood had become melancholy. Even though no-one in the London Underground was from St. Petersburg or America, they all knew the feeling of having lost loved ones.
Skinner watched Tom go. He was painfully reminded how human Tom really was; after all, the reason why the Black Duke did what he did was to free loved ones, not just the world.
As Tom walked off, Skinner watched his friend. The younger man's whole aura radiated extreme sorrow. He was probably fighting tears. The invisible man would let Tom have his quiet time; he deserved as much.
"The poor man," someone to his left said. Turning, Skinner saw Arsène Lupin. "To have lost everyone."Skinner nodded, turning back just in time to see the last of Tom enter one of the tents — it was the one that had become a makeshift bedroom for him and the thief. There was just one thing bugging the invisible man.
Would Tom be able to lead the revolution in four days?
What was left of St. Petersburg was a large dark patch and burning houses. Barnes (#2) carefully made his way through the rubble of the town, calling for survivors.
There was no answer. The only sound was the rush of the river and the calls of the other members of the search party that had been sent to look for survivors — if there were any. It was doubtful; the blasts had been huge, and what structures remained were either on fire or too small to hide even a child.
He had his rifle slung over one arm, just in case any wild animals chose to appear and attack the party.
"Hullo!" he yelled. There was no answer. Barnes felt something brush against his foot; looking down, he quickly turned away. His boots had disturbed a small arm, blown from some young girl's body when the explosion had caught her in its fiery grip of death. He could see the bone, and the wound at one end had cauterized the heat of the explosion.
Barnes looked away, deliberately turning to face the opposite direction. Damn Dante, he thought, fist clenched. As a member of the Underground, he had learned of the king's atrocious acts. This only served to compound the fact that Dante was a monster.
Barnes shook his head, trying to clear the unpleasant thoughts. What mattered now was to search for survivors.
He had a feeling in his gut that there would be none.
(#1) Nick Carter is the creation of John Russell Coryell and Ormond G. Smith, and appeared in the 1886; he is an established detective, master of disguise, the "American Sherlock Holmes".
(#2) Mr. Barnes is Archibald Clavering Gunter's creation. In 1888 he appeared in his first story, Mr. Barnes of New York and then in 1906's Mr. Barnes, American. Barnes is a fabulously wealthy orphan, middle-aged and a crack shot. He prefers hunting game to chasing women.
In case you're wondering, 'Cat Beth Ceky' is an anagram for 'Becky Thatcher'.