Disclaimer: I don't own Ross, Rachel, Chandler, Monica, Joey, Phoebe, or ANY of the League.

Feedback: I'd appreciate it.

Eowyn41: I will, I assure you of that.

INHM: Thanks for saying I put on you on the edge of your seat; I hope I can continue to achieve that. Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long!

Ardeths Deadly Ferret: Thanks for that; it's those little moments that make this sort of thing worthwhile.

Krisian Rose: While I wish you'd reviewed earlier, better late than never. Glad you liked the scene with Phoebe and Jekyll, and the Hulk reference was intended, I assure you of that. Don't worry; if the League don't 'kick tail' now, they will be shortly.

The One Where They Help Save the World

"Nemo?" Sawyer whispered as he crawled through the store's electronics department. A part of him couldn't help but be impressed at all the technology around him- some of the things in this place looked like they'd just appeared rather than be constructed and pieced together by somebody- but the rest of him knew that he had to focus on the matter at hand. He could worry abut admiring the future's technology later; right now, lives were in his hands. "Nemo?"

"I am over here, Agent Sawyer," a voice whispered to him from his right. Sawyer glanced in that direction, and saw Nemo crouching behind a large black box that, according to some brief explanations given by Chandler, was called a 'television'.

Grinning, Sawyer crawled over to the television, getting back onto his feet to speak to the captain better.

"I'll assume you heard the demands, right?" he asked, jerking his head back towards where the gunmen were currently standing.

Nemo nodded. "Naturally, Agent Sawyer. I was contemplating attacking them myself, but with you here, I see I shall have to change my strategy to accommodate your Colts. If nothing else, they shall make this business easier."

"Yeah, just don't go getting complacent," Sawyer replied, as he pulled his Colts out of their holsters, idly twirling them around his fingers as he spoke. "Even when we take these guys down, we've still got to stop the gunmen on the other floors." He sighed and clenched his fists as he spoke. "No matter how fast we move, people are going to die..."

Nemo placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then it is up to us to ensure that as few people die as possible, Agent Sawyer," he said. He looked down towards where the gunmen were standing; they could barely be made out over all the electrical devices on display here, but he could just about see their heads.

He noted that they were wearing some kind of black woollen mask over their heads, exposing only their eyes and mouths, and appeared to be looking around this level of the 'department store', if he recalled Miss Green's name for this place correctly. He noticed that all of them were each holding two large guns in their hands, raised up to point at the ceiling while they scanned the surroundings. Evidently, they were looking for the League, and were ready to shoot them if they tried anything.

Therefore, they would have to make the first move.

Nemo looked over at Sawyer, and held out one hand. "Give me one of your Colts," he said.

Nodding, Sawyer passed Nemo the Colt in his left hand, keeping the one in his left for himself.

"Now," Nemo whispered, as he studied the men in front of him, "it would appear to me that we have two choices. We can either attempt to shoot them from here, or we can split up and shoot at them from two different sides. Which one would you recommend?"

Sawyer scanned the surrounding area, trying to work out if both plans were plausible or not. The gunmen were currently standing in the centre of a sort of crossroads of some of the paths through all the clothes and other displays, so they had a good view of the surrounding area.

While Sawyer and Nemo were currently out of their visual range in their current position, it was close enough for Sawyer to be fairly sure of hitting at least one of the gunmen at the moment, even with a weapon that had been designed with closer quarters in mind for its use, but he wasn't too sure if Nemo would manage to pull it off.

Glancing around, he noticed some fallen clothes racks lying down at the end of one 'path', for lack of a better term, just low enough for a man to hide behind if he crawled along. It would be risky, but it might just pay off...

And, Sawyer noticed with steadily rising excitement, there was a handy clothes rack just a few metres away from the gunmen...

He indicated the rack to Nemo, following it up with a brief jerk of his head in the direction of the fallen ones. Nemo followed his gaze, and nodded.

"You go," Sawyer whispered under his breath. "I'll give you five minutes, then I'll shoot, OK? After that, it's all down to you."

"I shall not fail you," Nemo promised.

Then he ducked down and began to crawl along behind the clothes racks, heading for the tipped over rack.

Sawyer set himself if a good position to shoot at the gunmen without them seeing him, and took a brief look at the clock that was hanging on a nearby wall.

Four minutes and forty seconds left until he'd said he'd start shooting.

It was going to be a long wait...

"Are you sure about this?" Rachel asked Skinner, as he finally discarded the last of his clothing (Rachel and Chandler hadn't been watching for the majority of it; at least if they didn't look at him, they could at least IMAGINE he was still dressed). "I mean, just because you're invisible doesn't make you immune to gunfire. One lucky shot, and, well..." She trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence.

"I appreciate the concern, Miss Green, but I'll be fine," Skinner said, sounding a little like he was smiling as he spoke. "Besides, I haven't even told you the plan yet."

"Oh, you have one?" Chandler asked, sounding rather surprised at that comment. "I thought of you as a 'spur-of-the-moment' kinda guy."

Something hit Chandler in his left arm; not hard enough to make him yell in pain, but hard enough to still be pretty sore.

"The last time I dived in without a plan, I ended up with severe burns all over me," Skinner hissed in Chandler's ear. "And believe me, I mean all over. You would not believe how painful it is to have burns on your crotch, for crying out loud."

Chandler blinked. "I didn't need to know that, Rodney," he replied, before peering briefly over the fallen bench at the gathering gunmen. "Anyway, what the hell is your plan?"

"Simplicity itself," Skinner replied, sounding more confident now; it was almost as though he was glad to be taking charge for a change, rather than taking orders from somebody else. "I charge these bastards, knocking one of them down directly and hitting the other two in the chest. While they're down on the ground, you guys grab their guns and knock 'em out, and then we... we... take it from there?" he finished weakly.

Rachel sighed a little at the finishing statement. "Nice idea, Skinner, but are you sure you've covered all the alternatives?" she asked. "I mean, what if you don't take them all down? What if you do and you don't knock them out for long enough? What if... what if... what if you hit them and they fire at us before they fall down?"

Skinner gave a small 'Mmmm,' as though considering it, and then spoke. "Man, that would be unlucky, wouldn't it?" he said, his voice sounding slightly clearer, as though he was now looking in her direction. "Look, right now, if we don't come up with something, somebody's gonna die. Do you really want that on your consciousness? My plan isn't perfect, I admit it-"

"Not perfect?" Chandler asked the invisible man. "Skinner, this plan could be used to define 'not perfect' in the dictionary."

Skinner kicked Chandler lightly in one leg and continued to speak. "I know that, Chandler," he hissed. "But, right now, we have nothing else to use, and time is of the essence. Now, are you gonna help me try and pull this off, or not?"

Rachel groaned. When Skinner put it like that...

"OK, OK, we'll go through with it," she said, exasperatedly. "Just... get going already, willya?"

"Gladly," Skinner smiled at her. He was aware that it was pretty pointless, given that she'd never see it without his greasepaint on his face, but the thought was there, right?

He just wished she wasn't so much more interested in Sawyer then she was in him...

He shook that train of thought off before he could actually go anywhere with it. If he continued thinking about what could be, he'd forget about what was until it was too late to do anything about.

He tensed his legs, looking at the gunmen as they looked around the floor, most likely than not trying to see any of the League members. He made up his mind, then and there, to wait until they weren't looking in his direction to jump them; they may not see him, but he couldn't guarantee they might not see something move near his feet.

He waited five seconds.

Ten.

Twenty.

Thirty...

Nobody was looking in his direction.

Instantly, he leapt over the bench and charged towards the gunmen, spreading his arms out in a move intended to catch them in the throats...

And all three turned to face him, raising their guns as a small grin spread across their faces.

Skinner stared in horror at their eyes, noticing for the first time they were wearing small glasses under their woollen masks; they looked fairly normal at first glance, but closer inspection revealed a tinge of red around the edges.

And, since they were looking straight at him, Skinner was prepared to bet that the glasses somehow gave these bastards the ability to see him.

"Ah crap..." he whispered.

"Indeed, Mr Skinner," one of the gunmen smiled at him. "Now, we can do this two ways; either you get your clothes on, direct us to the rest of the League, and you all come with us now, and thus don't get hurt, or we kill you and track down the rest of the League then. Your choice is?"

Skinner swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that he was standing here, in the stark, in front of three guys who could actually see him. (His only hope was that they couldn't see him that well) He had to admit, the 'offer' they'd given him was a fair one; live or die?

In the old days, he'd have gone for the first one like a shot.

But...

Skinner groaned inwardly. There was always a damned but these days, wasn't there?

He wasn't the thief he'd been in the old days anymore. And that wasn't solely because of his invisibility; it was because of his friends. No, they weren't his friends; the bond the League shared went deeper than that.

They were practically family.

And he wasn't going to let these jerks take down his newfound family; if he was being honest, the only true family he'd ever had. Not as long as there was breath in his body...

He made his decision.

Acting on reflexes that would have made Mina look slow, Skinner charged forward, ramming the guy in the centre of the group, shoving him directly onto the ground. Skinner heard a loud crack as the man's head hit the floor, and knew that something had broken, but right now, he didn't care.

All he cared about was that these bastards had been prepared to use him to destroy the only people who'd ever seen him as anything other than a waste of space or a means to an end.

As far as he was concerned, anything less than death would be too good for these bastards.

He heard the other two men point their guns at his head, and grinned.

This may have been the end, but at least he went down fighting for his friends.

He only hoped these guys didn't know about Rachel and Chandler....

A loud gunshot suddenly broke off his train of thought.