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

Feedback: I'd appreciate it.

Sean Malloy-1: No, there isn't, to answer your question about the cliffhangers. Oh, and everything will be updated soon enough, I assure you.

Krisian Rose: Good point about the 'Doctor J' thing; I just couldn't think of anything else, and thought it was a very 'Phoebe' thing for her to do. Whether the plan will work, well, you'll have to wait and see... (Regarding the penname thing, I just felt like changing it)

INMH: Just... try NOT to be on a sugar high next time you review, please. It's kind of disturbing... (Thanks for calming him down, S.F.)

elven-emma: I'll continue, I assure you of that... Glad it's going down well

The One Where They Help Save the World

"Time to allocate positions," Sawyer said, as he glanced around at the others. "Chandler, Hartdegen, position yourselves around the stairs, but try not to get too near to them; we want to give the gunmen a bit of a chance to split up before we start taking them out, otherwise they might get suspicious. Rachel, Skinner, Nemo, you guys spread out to the other entrances and exits from this level, so we're ready for any extra surprises. Jekyll, Phoebe... find a phone, call the cops, and stay down. Got that?"

The League nodded, and the others gave Sawyer the thumbs-up; Rachel even included a brief wink and a smile at the attractive young American.

"Good," Sawyer said, as he peered briefly down the barrel of the gun, swung it around on his finger, and cocking it in anticipation. "Let's roll."

Instantly, the group split into its respective parts; Phoebe and Jekyll heading for doors to the shop's fire exit, Rachel and Nemo heading towards the nearest elevators, Skinner sticking himself in a nearby bunch of hanging clothes, and Sawyer, Chandler and Hartdegen positioned themselves around the escalators from the floor above.

Glancing around, Sawyer nodded in approval at everyone's choice of positions, and then raised the radio to his lips, tapping the button that he hoped would open up a communication with the upper floors.

"Hello?" he said experimentally, trying not to talk too loudly into the radio at first. "Is anyone there?"

"Curran?" a voice said from the other end of he radio. "Why are you calling us; you know the boss said to maintain radio silence except in an emergency!"

"Which is what we've got down here," Sawyer said, trying to sound a bit harsher than before. "We've encountered a couple of the League members- the professors, I think- but they've gotten away and may have contacted the others. I'm requesting reinforcements to put them down before they're fully organised."

"OK..." the man said, sounding a little sceptical, but otherwise willing to believe Sawyer's story. "How much backup?"

"Everyone from the sixth to eighth floors would probably be best," Sawyer commented. "The vampire won't be strong enough to fly everyone off this building in the dark, and besides, I doubt they want to broadcast their presence in this time, so we'll want the lower floors ready to hold them back if they try to get out."

"Right," the man said. "We'll be there in a moment."

Sawyer terminated the message and looked up at the others.

"They're coming," he whispered. "Everyone get back."

Nodding in reply, Chandler and Hartdegen dived to the sides of the escalators, out of sight of anyone coming down them, while Sawyer dived behind some shirts that were hanging nearby.

They waited there for a few seconds, Chandler humming slightly under his breath while Hartdegen just stared at his watch, and then they saw a pair of feet appear on the escalator. Instantly they tensed up and looked over at where Sawyer was hiding. A few raised fingers told them everything; hold still until Sawyer gave the signal. Even Chandler realised the sense in that; after all, in his current position, Sawyer could easily see how many people were still to come down the escalator.

Four people were at the bottom of the escalator now. Chandler noticed that they were all dressed in similar clothes to the gunmen Sawyer and Skinner had taken down earlier; black clothes, black gloves, black balaclavas, each one holding a similar gun to the one he now held in his hands.

Six people. The group had started to spread out a bit more among the clothes racks, evidently searching for something. Chandler had never pretended to be a detective, but he was prepared to bet they were getting curious about why nobody had shown up to greet them.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine...

"NOW!" Sawyer yelled, sticking his gun out of the shirts and firing wildly at the gunmen, followed closely by Hartdegen and Chandler. However, whether the gunmen were wearing body armour, whether the bullets were duds, or whether the three's inexperience with this kind of weapon was more of a problem than anyone else would have expected, the end result of several shots were only two men down and another three apparently wounded in one arm or shoulder.

The remaining seven standing members of the group, obviously clueing in on the fact that they'd been tricked, instantly split up and spread out around the shop, a couple getting in a couple of parting shots that nearly hit Chandler.

"Fan out!" Sawyer yelled, diving out of the clothes racks, rolling on the ground until he landed on his feet, glancing back at his friends as he stood up.

Nodding grimly, Hartdegen shouldered his weapon and ran off, heading deeper into the mismatch corridors and lazes formed by the clothes. Chandler looked a little ill, but still seemed prepared to stick it out as he walked away, leaving Sawyer to shoulder his weapon and dash off in a third direction after the gunmen, briefly glancing in the direction of the others to ensure they were safe.

He was relieved to note that, although the League were still hidden from view, there were no signs of blood anywhere on the walls or among the hanging clothes other than around where the gunmen had been standing.

And talking of the gunmen...

He grinned as he noticed one of them standing a few metres away from him, his back to the young American as he looked around, waiting for someone to attack him.

Sawyer wasn't about to disappoint him. Raising his gun, he fired a bullet into the back of the man's leg, bringing him down with a brief yelp of pain before the man struck his head on a clothes rack and lost consciousness.

Glancing around, Sawyer was relieved to find that none of their opponents appeared to have heard him dispatch their comrade. Three down, six to go...

He just hoped that his new friends were up to it.

When the gunshots had started, Rachel's instinctive reaction had been to dive into the elevators, take it down to the bottom floor, and then run for her life, regardless of the risk of getting caught by some of the gunmen on the lower floors. At least I'll have somewhere to run to! her panicked mind had thought to itself...

But she hadn't run. She couldn't. Her friends were in danger, both old and new, and they were counting on her to help them...

Plus, she doubted Nemo would have let her bail out of this situation anyway.

Just as she was starting to think that all their opponents had been taken down by the three gunners as soon as they'd arrived, she saw a couple of black figures sneaking around some nearby clothes racks. They weren't looking at the elevators yet, but Rachel knew it was only a matter of time.

"Nemo!" she hissed, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the gunmen. "Get out of sight!"

Nemo looked in the direction she was pointing, nodded at her in acknowledgement, and dived behind a few hanging leather jackets near the elevators. Rachel, following his example, ducked behind some similar jackets on the other side, out of sight of anyone coming from the direction the men were walking in.

As she stood there, frozen with fear, Rachel was already trying to think of what she'd do when the men got near enough. Hit them? Stun them? Steal their gun and shoot them? Flash them? (She dismissed that one straight away- no psychopaths were getting a peek at her chest) Which one, which one, which...

Then the men were right beside her, and she made up her mind. In a desperate move, unsure what would do the most damage, she kicked out at the man's leg, following it up with a punch to his face that hopefully hurt him as much as it hurt her; she felt like she'd broken her hand.

Looking over at Nemo, she was amazed at the speed he was moving at; despite looking like he was in his mid-fifties, Nemo moved with the speed and agility of someone in his prime, striking his opponent in the chest before flipping him over his shoulder to land against the wall, dazed and unconscious.

"Wow..." Rachel commented, as she looked at the unconscious gunman before looking back up at Nemo. "Nice moves, captain."

"Thank you for the compliment, Miss Green," Nemo replied, as he crouched down and removed the man's gun from his still hands. "Take up your foe's gun; we shall most likely need these weapons when the time comes for us to confront our foe."

Rachel blinked.

She hadn't been expecting that.

"What?" she said, looking at Nemo in confusion. "'When the time comes to confront our foe'? Couldn't we just... I dunno, ask the police to attend to it?"

"Unlikely," Nemo replied, as he slipped the gun onto his belt and got back to his feet. "If our opponent is connected enough to have developed time travel, confident enough to confront us in our home time, and capable of creating weaponry that can disable Mr Nator in combat, I doubt that the traditional law enforcement agencies will prove capable of stopping them. It is all down to us."

He looked up at Rachel, a quizzical look in his eyes. "And, of course, you and your friends, if you wish to remain?"

Rachel dithered briefly at the choice he was giving her, and then sighed.

"Why not?" she sighed. "After all, I'm already in further than I ever thought I'd be in this kind of situation; might as well finish it off."

"Excellent," Nemo smiled, as he looked back at the gunman lying at Rachel's feet. "Take his weapon and then help me find something with which to tie him up; he have little alternatives at this moment."

Nodding uncertainly, Rachel took the man's gun, slung it over her shoulder, and grabbed the man by the shoulders. As she started to drag him towards a nearby changing room, only one thought passed across her mind.

What the hell are we letting ourselves in for...?

"Crap!" Chandler whispered, clutching a wounded arm as he tried to hide amid some blue shirts against one wall. One of the bullets that had been fired earlier had apparently caught him in the left arm, leaving his suit covered in blood and his ability to use the large gun in his hands more than slightly hampered. The only blessing was that the wound didn't appear too bad; as far he could he tell, based on his limited experience of gunshot wounds, it had just grazed his skin and maybe damaged a muscle or something. Sore, but he'd live, he was guessing.

Now, if only he could find one of those gunmen...

"Freeze!" somebody said from his left, as something cold and hard was suddenly pressed against his head.

Chandler froze. "Ah, nuts..." he whispered again, raising his arms in what he hoped was a gesture of surrender to this guy, even with the gun in his right hand.

"Drop the gun, and turn around to face me," the man said, sounding far more confident now that he had the gun to Chandler's head.

Feeling like kicking himself, Chandler dropped the gun to the floor, turned around...

And, without even stopping to think about what he was doing, he lashed out with a punch that knocked the gunman to the floor before he could even pull his trigger.

Chandler grinned a little at the sight, but stopped smiling when a sharp twinge of pain shot through his left arm; he'd been so desperate that he'd lashed out with his wounded arm, rather than using his fit one. He was going to be sore in the morning...

Then again, at least this way he'd still be around in the morning.

Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, Chandler grabbed a shirt from the hanger beside him, flipped the gunman onto his back, and tied his hands together with a makeshift knot. It wouldn't hold him for long, but hopefully it would be long enough for the cops to pick this guy up.

As he grabbed the man's gun from where it had fallen, picking up his own dropped gun in the process, Chandler briefly spared a thought for the others. He could only hope they were all OK...

There are times, Skinner thought to himself, a grin on his face that would have made him look like a clown if he'd had his paint on, when being an invisible man has its advantages.

How else would he not only be able to find a decent hiding place to watch out for the attacking gunmen, but also get a chance to get an in-depth look at the lingerie that had become popular among women in the modern day?

Not that he was slacking off on his duties; no, he was still keeping an eye out for their adversaries, of course he was. After all, these guys were messing with the only real family he'd ever had, for Christ's sake!

But, well... a guy had to grab his little pleasures, didn't he?

Especially when it came to imagining what these things would like on his female acquaintances...

Then one of the gunmen passed by him, and he tensed up immediately. He'd hidden his rapidly-discarded clothes under a second clothes rack, so he knew they wouldn't be spotted, and he doubted these guys would think to check for him in here.

He waited, frozen stiff, praying desperately that the gunman would just pass him by without noticing him, give him the chance he needed...

The gunman's eyes passed over the rack and he began to walk away.

Instantly, Skinner launched into action, grabbing a nearby bra and yanking it shut around the gunman's head, leaving him unable to see anything but red. Before the other guy could do anything, Skinner launched a powerful punch at the back of his head, knocking the bastard down for the count, underwear around his head and his gun lying on the ground.

Grabbing the gun, Skinner checked it for ammunition before reaching over, grabbing a handful of underwear from the hanger, and tying the man's hands and feet together with it. A bit embarrassing for the poor guy, but, hey; it could have been worse.

As Skinner stood back up, he spared a brief thought for the others before he began to run deeper into the mall, trying to find either his friends or his enemies as soon as possible.

He was armed, annoyed, and dangerous...

And really pissed off at his fantasies having been interrupted.

As Hartdegen ducked underneath a nearby shelf, he found himself already running over which direction he should go in if he was going to find any opponents right now. He quickly dismissed the elevators and the fire escape- if he couldn't trust his friends to stop these madmen, he couldn't trust anybody.

He wasn't entirely sure about Phoebe and Rachel, but he knew for a fact that Nemo could hold his own in a fight, and as for Jekyll... Well, Hyde may do most of the actual work, but Jekyll still wasn't exactly a pushover in a struggle, no matter what else he was. They would be fine if the need arose.

Now, which way had those gun-wielding maniacs gone...?

"Freeze!"

They were behind him.

To quote Skinner; 'Aw, nuts', Hartdegen thought to himself, as the man behind him started to speak again.

"On your feet, Hartdegen!" the man said. "Drop the gun, raise your hands, and don't try anything!"

Hartdegen swore a little as he got to his feet; this man knew who he was after just seeing the back of his head? They were dealing with a very well-informed adversary.

Naturally, Hartdegen had no intention of obeying the man's request. He may have been more interested in quantum mechanics and machinery than anything else, but his physics was still the way in which he had made a living for his past eight years. And, unless he'd forgotten something vital about the speed of sound, he was fairly sure that the man was only a few feet behind him, which meant that all he needed to do was...

He spun around, raising his arm as he did so, knocking the gun that had been pointing at his head to aim towards the ceiling, yanked it out of the man's hand, before ramming his would-be killer in the face with the end of the gun, breaking his nose. Before the man could react, Hartdegen had grabbed the gun by the handle, taken it out of his reach, and had kicked his adversary in the groin, sending him to the ground before he'd even finished the yell of pain about his nose.

As the man fell, Hartdegen grabbed a few nearby ties and bound the man's wrists and ankles together, giving the man another kick in the head for good measure. Getting back up, he turned around and walked back towards the escalators; if he was going to track down the other gunmen, he'd need to get started as soon as possible.

"Ah, there you are," Sawyer said, smiling as he finally saw the final gunman. He hadn't seen any of the other League members, but, based on the fact that he hadn't encountered any other gunmen up until this point, he felt he was fairly safe in assuming that his friends had succeeding in eliminating their adversaries; they weren't called 'Extraordinary' for nothing.

"You!" the man cried, spinning around to point his gun at Sawyer. "What have you done with my comrades?"

"Oh, nothing much," Sawyer smiled, spinning his newly-acquired gun around on his finger as he aimed it at his opponent. "At least, nothing you wouldn't have been perfectly prepared to do to us." His face hardened. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, you bastard. The difference between them is simple; I leave you with the use of all your limbs if you choose the easy way."

The man chuckled, raising his own gun in the process. "Don't try to scare me," he said, barely able to contain his arrogant smirk. "We both know you're not going to kill me. Anyway, my associates will be here soon enough; I doubt you could fight them all off."

"He doesn't have to," someone said from the side. "They've all already been dealt with."

And Hartdegen, Skinner, Chandler, Rachel and Nemo stepped out of the shadows of the mall, each one holding a gun in their hands, although Rachel looked a little nervous at the idea of holding the weapon.

Sawyer nodded gratefully at his friends, before turning his weapon back onto the gunman.

"It's six weapons to one, 'buddy'," he grinned. "What's it going to be; your life, or your short-term consciousness?"

The man looked around himself, swallowed, and dropped his weapon.

"Wise choice," Sawyer said, glancing over towards Skinner. "Skinner, get his weapon. Rachel; find something we can use to tie him up." He looked the man in the eyes as his friends, moved to obey his requests. "Now then, would you care to tell us a little bit about your boss?"

The man nodded, looking slightly nervous. "I don't know that much; he never reveals his face to us. He always asks us to address him as 'the Lord', and keeps us blindfolded when he takes us to his headquarters. The only thing I really know for sure is that it's somewhere underneath East Broadway, but that's it."

Hartdegen looked over at Sawyer, who shrugged.

"It's more than we had," he sighed. "Thanks for the aid."

Then he swung his gun and knocked the man to the ground, unconscious and with blood staining his balaclava.

"Time we were off?" Chandler asked, looking up at Sawyer.

"Yeah, we-" Sawyer began, then noticed the blood on Chandler's sleeve. "What happened to you?!"

"Oh, this?" Chandler asked, indicating his bleeding arm. "Wild bullet from when we took out those first three guys. Doesn't feel like anything's broken; just think we should remember to get it out pretty soon."

"Right then," Sawyer said, as he started to walk towards the fire escape that Jekyll and Phoebe had headed towards earlier. "Let's go, OK? The cops are probably already on their way by now; let's just meet up with the others and get out of here; Mina should be on the ground floor by now."