A.N: After posted 'Chapter Two: What to do?' I noticed that the paragraphs and speech had gone all weird. I think I've fixed that now, and the chapter should be easier to read. I'm still at a loss on how to work the bold and italics though… if anyone could help I'd very much appreciate it… it would make the story more fun to read and more organised!
Disclaimer: "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" and all material therein, is originally owned by Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neil. The movie rights belong to 20th Century Fox. No infringement is intended.
Shoutouts:
Sethoz: Omg! Thank you so much for your review! I've read loads of your work (including your new Jekyll one-shot) and I love it! So getting a positive review from someone like you is really uplifting! The League should really show up in Chapter Four… but they will be mentioned in this chapter… just be patient for a little while longer!
Chapter Three: Decisions
Later that morning, Burrows sat at the head of the long table in the underground library and surveyed the people before him. Each was dressed sombrely in a dark suit, typical of the London businessman, and each of their faces held the same anxious expression. He had a feeling they all knew what he was about to say.
He placed his hands together as if praying and brought them up to his pursed lips. Building up the tension in the room would make the board more open to what he was planning on proposing. He let his eyes wander around the room and admired the various portraits that adorned the walls. Gulliver, the Three Musketeers, Phileas Fog… each of them heroes in their own special ways, much like the people that they needed most desperately right now… although few would admit it.
A polite cough from somewhere to his left drew his attention back to the matter at hand. They had to hurry, who knew what the enemy was planning?
"Gentlemen, "he nodded respectfully to those around him. "I see no point in skirting around the issue. Besides, no doubt, you have already guessed the nature of your sudden summons here to the British Museum. I'll say it plainly: things have not gone as originally planned."
There were murmurs around the table and some sharp intakes of breath from those that knew more about what they were dealing with.
Before anyone could speak up, he continued.
"Early this morning, at about two 'o' clock to be precise, one single member of the team we sent out to scout London returned to the museum. He came alone, and the rest are presumed to be dead. What killed them, we don't know. But one of the guards described the… thing chasing the team member as appearing 'inhuman'. The unfortunate soul carried this brief note, which was taken from him by the night watch."
"Burrows", a man at the end of the table spoke up. "Did the guards read the message?"
"No. When I received the envelope from Mr. Pinchbeck here," he motioned to his right, "the seal had not yet been fully broken – there was no way they could have read this." A series of satisfied grunts followed his reply.
"I shall read you the contents of said envelope, this is believed to be the last message that we received from Egypt:
'HQ: Have followed Crimson Vulture to nest. Vulture has control. Repeat: vulture has control. Chicks dead – vulture scouted carrion. Golden Eagle remains free. Imminent danger.'"
The board sat quietly as the words sank in.
"For those of you that are not familiar with the code, I shall translate roughly: 'We have followed O'Connor to the tomb. O'Connor has the power. The team is dead – O'Connor found their hideaway. Jonathan Hart remains safe. Danger is imminent.'"
Further silence.
At last, someone spoke up. "Well, Hart at least is safe. If we lost him, much more would be at stake than there already is. What do you propose we do?"
All heads immediately turned towards Burrows, who cleared his throat lightly before continuing.
"For months, we have had our top MI6 agents tracking O'Connor, watching his every move, learning his ways. However, at each confrontation we have had, he has always come out the victor – I must emphasise that we have lost many good men to this mission, perhaps unnecessarily. Some of the last transmissions that we received from Egypt have detailed the techniques he uses in such confrontations, and they appear to be of the supernatural nature."
At this a low murmur passed around the table. "Burrows, what exactly do you mean by 'supernatural'?"
"I mean that his… warriors, minions, soldiers… call them what you will, possess powers that the average human being could not hope to ever overcome: levitation, mind control, summoning flame from thin air, shape-shifting, flight… there is a list if anyone would like to see it. We believe that O'Connor may have used whatever power he found in the tomb to turn his soldiers into unbeatable assassins.
"Now, I know that I am not alone in believing that there is only one group of gifted individuals that could ever possibly stand a chance: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen."
There. He had said it. And all hell had broken loose.
Angry suited men stood from their seats and began gesticulating wildly, shouting out their disapproval, while others counter-attacked with praise for the League. Burrows stood and tried to restore order, but the board of civilized men was quickly turning into a mob of angry demonstrators. Nobody would listen. There was only one thing for it.
"SILENCE!"
The entire room immediately fell quiet. Not a soul stirred. Burrows sat down, not looking at any of them, adjusting his tie as he did so. The others quickly followed suit and waited for him to speak.
"I know that many of you will disagree with me on this point, but you must see that they are the only people that we can send against him."
"Rubbish. The British Army has conquered more territory than this O'Connor cretin could even imagine. We simply send out armies against him."
"We've sent out our most sophisticated and best-trained agents against this man. There is no way that even a thousand men trained in only basic gunmanship could overcome him if ours couldn't. He himself holds more power than the entire British army put together."
"You remember what happened the last time we sent out that group of freaks… they nearly destroyed half of Venice!"
This time Pinchbeck spoke up: "That's not true! If anything the League was responsible for saving Venice from Moriarty's bombs. Without them, that entire city would be underwater now. And they went on to Mongolia and destroyed his factory. For Christ's sake, without them a war would have begun between nations that would have caused more bloodshed in one month than in the history of the planet."
"You're forgetting that Moriarty originally put together the League in order to study, produce and package their powers for commercial use. What's to say that that doesn't happen again?"
Burrows again spoke. "Moriarty had a mole inside the League: one, Dorian Gray. The League discovered his treachery and he was killed along with Moriarty in Mongolia. We have no reason to believe that history will repeat himself. Besides, I am not Moriarty, and I have no inclination to make such powers available to the world leaders… even our own."
A small, rat-like man half-way down the table spoke up, looking about wildly as he did so. "We've all read the report from that mission. It was, at one time, believed that Rodney Skinner, who stole the invisibility formula from Hawley Griffin, was responsible for the leakage of information to Moriarty. How do we know that he hasn't been tempted by O'Connor into working for him? He was, after all, a petty thief."
"Yes", Burrows agreed, and the rat looked pleased. "But you forget that it was originally our Government that promised him the formula to reverse his unique ability. I believe that he will hold true to the deal we made. After all, life quickly loses its charm when no one knows you're there."
The board was silent for a while. Each man pondered the circumstances: they knew that the League was indeed the only force that could possibly hope to even put up any semblance of a fight against the armies of O'Connor, but they didn't like the idea of putting the fate of so many in the hands of such a band of formidable individuals – in truth, no one had even heard from them since the Mongolia incident.
"All in favour of calling upon the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?"
The reply was unanimous, if somewhat reluctant: "Aye."
"Very well. I shall arrange contact with them. Also, as you all know, we tragically lost Allan Quatermain on the last mission, and along with the death of Dorian Gray, the League is now two members short. I have already found one who could replace them: a Miss Khenemetisis Williams. British Intelligence in Egypt has been tracking her for almost seventeen years now, and she has exhibited powers formidable enough for them to be beneficial to our mission."
"Who did you say?" Pinchbeck spoke up again. Burrows smiled at the bemused faces of those surrounding him.
"Khenemetisis. It's Egyptian. The closest translation is," he paused briefly, thinking. "'One Who is Joined to Isis'. Her mother named her for the Egyptian goddess who was known for protection. A lovely lady – met her once. Worked in the British Museum of Cairo right up to her death."
Burrows stood and thanked the men for coming. Now all he had to do was manage to establish some form of contact with the League – it had been almost two years since intelligence had last heard from them… would they still be winning to fight for those that had rejected them for so long?
A.N: Another chapter finished! Phew! Alright, it's about 1:11 a.m. here so I think I'd best finish off for tonight. Please leave a review on your way out! Next chapter: the League! SQUEAL!