The Diaries of an Enigmatic Manipulator
A League of Extraordinary Gentlemen fanfiction
Disclaimer: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen comic and the LXG movie I do not own. My own characters, and any aspect of the story that involves or is changed by them I recall my own.
England, June 1899
After the meeting, the "league"; Allan, the Pirate, Mr. Skinner, Mrs. Harker and I, broke away from the dark staircase and eerie halls of the British Museum. It continued to pour outside, as I heard through the walls. The four accomplices of mine didn't seem to make chatter with each other; the uncanny air between all of us was quite uncomfortable. I could feel the skepticism in Allan, the earnestness in the pirate, the mystifying yet mocking spirit of Mr. Skinner, and the tranquil, but grim mood Mrs. Harker. I believed, unfortunately, that my aura gave off a feeling of caution and fright.
As we made our way to the entry doors to recruit these other members and meet the black, rainy sky of London without conversation, a few of the members took out their umbrellas, and Mr. Skinner retrieved his container of grease paint and covered the rest of his face. He showed every crease and every line upon his invisible face—a smart way to do so, I thought. The invisible man regained his glasses as well—small, black oval tea shades to hide his missing eyes, and put on his hat.
As Allan and the others opened the doors, we once again met the gloomy rain—it poured down upon us, beating our umbrellas oh so fierce! And, as we descended the wide staircase to meet our transportation, our eyes gazed upon one of the most magnificent things I have ever seen in my entire life.
It was a strange, pearly white and silver device, set upon six, perfectly round wheels—four in the front, two in the back, and with beautiful embellishments of silver and chrome; inscriptions of Hindu gods and goddesses, which, therefore, I assumed it to be owned by the pirate.
My gaze was described by awe, for the device could not be described its beauty.
"What in God's name is that?" I heard Allan say.
The pirate replied, "I call it an…auto-mobile."
Hm…interesting!
"Yeah, but what is it?" asked the mocking tone of Mr. Skinner, the now-partially-invisible man.
"The future, gentlemen…the future." The pirate defended his creation.
And indeed it was.
"This is my first mate," he then pointed out. Having a first mate seemed more like a Captain sort of thing rather than a Pirate's. The term 'Captain' came to mind at first, really, so when the man had said, "I'd prefer a less provocative title…" to being called a pirate, I could assume then, that 'Captain' is what he preferred. So, he was a Captain to me.
I didn't even realize the man standing beside the car, though. At first glance I thought he was another admirer, for there were several citizens gazing about the "auto-mobile". He was of a rough appearance, dressed in simple seafaring attire. He spoke,
"Call me Ishmael…please," and with a gesture, he guided us within the contraption. I must say, I was confused as to how to get inside the dear thing, but I followed the others as a metal door was opened by Ishmael, and Mrs. Harker and Mr. Skinner filed in. The pirate entered in another door next to the one opened for Allan and I.
I was brought inside first, insecurely plopping myself atop a very comfortable, smooth type of seating next to Mr. Skinner. Allan bumped next to me, and closed the door. I had already felt claustrophobic.
Ishmael circled the auto-mobile and entered from another door, sitting next to the pirate. They, both, were in front of us, and I seemed to retain the mood of…fault, almost. This was the pirate's invention, and we were unsuspecting, trapped in the back and smooshed together, as Ishmael began the device and rode off.
It was not long before the silence was unbearable, and someone had to speak.
"So…how did M get you?" Mr. Skinner asked me.
I was dumbstruck—didn't know what to say. I stumbled upon my words quite a bit, before I was able to say, "He…he came to my home with an accomplice of his. He convinced me to attend the meeting and participate in this endeavor."
Mr. Skinner didn't give much of a reply, but instead stretched his neck past me and to Allan.
"And how did M get you, Mr. Quatermain?"
Quatermain…Allan Quatermain. Huh…I don't recall the person's name. Although, here is where the conversation got a little ill-tempered...
Mr. Quatermain looked displeased. "None of your business…" he replied.
Mrs. Harker stretched out her neck as well, to view Mr. Quatermain.
"You're a little testy, Mr. Q." she spoke.
And Allan made a grave face, stretched his neck to meet the woman's eyes, and seemed ready to defend himself.
"Mrs. Harker I doubt if you measure danger…the way I do."
"And I imagine you with quite the library, Mr. Quatermain. All those books you've must have read, merely by looking at their covers." She faintly spit at the word 'covers'. And I agreed with the woman…men shall not simply think of every lady as hopeless and frail…although most women are, unfortunately.
"I've had women along on past exploits—and found them to be at best…a distraction…" he tested back.
"Do I distract you?" Mrs. Harker's tone was very…innocent and inquiring.
"My dear girl, I've buried two wives and many lovers…and I'm in no mood…for more…of either!"
I found that foul. But, of course, I was cheered by merrily Mr. Skinner.
"Well you can send them my way if you li—"
"Skinner…? Shut up." said Mr. Quatermain.
Oh, but I could not hold back a snicker.
No more sound came from anyone's mouth the rest of the ride, and we arrived at the East London Docks, I believe. The auto-mobile stopped in front of an old, eerie loft by the sea. We were all to get out, and meet our newest member. It was not raining anymore, as I gladly thanked, however my mood went back to obscurity by the sight of the home. It was not that bad, but it gave of a certain puzzling feel, and was closed off from the rest of the homes in the area. I wondered 'Who was the occupant?' restlessly.
We got out, and Ishmael called, "Shall I wait, Captain?"
And the Captain said, "No…bring my lady to me."
Shall there be another woman within our league? Oh…no, I believe the Captain was referring to his ship. How daft am I!
Just then, as we approached the loft, Mr. Skinner said:
"This is a charming spot…" with quite the hint of sarcasm. "Does Jack the Ripper live here?"
Ha! I couldn't help but snicker at that one, too. The invisible man heard my reaction, and gave me an appreciative smile for being amused to his fault. Jack the Ripper, eh? The strange murderer that has been rummaging around England for quite some time now, killing innocent women and leaving them dead upon the streets? (I couldn't bear to hear another warning from my mother to watch myself at night and keep away from strange men like news-obsessed Jack) But, oh I would hope to meet this fellow, if he is indeed our next recruit! How interesting to meet such an equal…!
But, as Mr. Quatermain gave the door a few strong knocks, my excitement had expired from sight of the not-very-Jack-the-Ripper-looking-character who eyed us through the door's window. After viewing us with suspicion, he slowly had opened his door, and as I made my way past my associates to see more clearly his face, I could see he was not whom I wished.
He dressed in perfect English attire—a grey pinstripe suit, ruffled top and pearly black shoes. He sport a long, black hairstyle and a goatee, all hiding his peculiar eyes as of watching us with a bothered, serious look.
"Good evening." he spoke with a tone just…eerie!
"Mr. Dorian Gray?" asked Mr. Quatermain with serenity.
"I am indeed."
"We come by way of M."
Mr. Gray seemed amused. "Ah…M for mystery." He then became serious. "Well I told him and I'm telling you—I'm not interested."
Just before he was about to close the door, Mrs. Harker, to my surprise, made herself known and spoke,
"Dorian…"
"Mina?" Mr. Gray's eyes lit up with surprise as the rest of us did, and Mrs. Harker made her way into the loft, the rest of us following her behind.
Following Mr. Dorian Gray, the league and I ascended a few sets of metal staircases, calm and taking in the—
"Charming décor," Mr. Skinner finished my thought.
Soon enough, though, we met ourselves a wall with immense paintings—nearly every inch was covered in a beautiful portrait of a woman or so, besides one space centered by its surrounding works of art, portraying a stain upon the wall where yet another painting was once hung. The stain gave me the impression that the painting was old, and had been there a long time. Mr. Grey must have sold it, or any other reason to his lack of collection. Mr. Quatermain had noticed the same thing, for he pointed out,
"You're missing a picture, Mr. Gray."
"And you don't miss a thing, do you Mr. Quatermain?" he replied, in an annoyed sense.
"Oh, sometimes…" Mr. Quatermain then grumbled, in a more hushed tone.
Ascending the last staircase, we came upon a beautiful room—it was surrounded by extremely tall bookshelves covering every inch of wall for nearly two stories, and decorated with the most finest paintings, rugs, tables and chairs. A fireplace roared in the back, and Mr. Gray made his way to the chair nearest to it. The league spread out inside the astoundingly gorgeous home; Mr. Skinner immediately making himself at home by attending to a small table holding bottles of liquor.
"Scotch, anyone?" he asked, taking off his hat, revealing an invisible spot upon the back of his head, and pouring himself a glass.
"Please…help yourself." Mr. Gray spoke.
"Don't let it ruin your makeup." Mrs. Harker snapped, passing Mr. Skinner with her chin up high. In return she was given a look by a very pale and surprisingly expression.
As Mr. Gray spoke, I must say—there was something about his tone of voice, much like M, that interested me. It gave a mystery behind words—a persona that was nearly waiting to be discovered, found out, or revealed...and I could not wait to do so. I crept behind the league's conversation with Dorian, and searched among the bookcases which interested me so. My hand swept along the spines of thousands of books, stopping when a title caught my eye:
Mirror Motives—the Narcissistic Resistance to Time and Nature
I took it off the shelf, reading its contents whilst I heard the conversation progress:
"I'm impressed, Mr. Grey—you take Skinner's uniqueness in your stride." spoke the Captain.
"Yes, well I've seen too much in my life to shock easily."
Haven't we all…, I thought initially.
"Although, I must say I was surprised to see you again." I heard him say. He must have been talking to Mina, for I wasn't watching them but the contents of the book.
Interplay between timeless beauty and developmental arrest shall lead one to give his soul away to the dominance of a powerful self-regard…
What did this man do, exactly?
"When our last parting was such sweet sorrow…" replied Mrs. Harker.
"Oh…so you're nothing more than an enticement. Nevertheless…your presence intrigues me."
Ah, here we go. A dramatic love story is on its way, I see. This shall be interesting to witness.
I looked up from the book and to the league, ignorant of my reading and Mr. Skinner indulging. I turned my neck to face him, and to my surprise he was looking at me, too. For how long he has been watching me read, I do not know, but we exchanged smiles before I decided to continue in its interesting contents. The conversation played on, as well…and I listened. It distracted me a bit from my reading.
"They say you're indestructible, Quatermain." spoke Gray.
Really…I was interested to see this man in action, now.
"Well…a witch doctor did bless me once; I had saved his village. He said…Africa…will never allow me to die."
"But you're not in Africa now." said Gray. I thought the exact same thing.
"No." I heard a hint of sadness in Allan's reply.
Then Captain spoke, "I confess a curiosity as to what the files say about Mr. Gray."
So do I, considering his reading list gave quite an interesting philosophy.
"We, all of us, have traits useful in this endeavor; a hunter, a scientist, even Skinner has stealth."
Excuse me? I looked up from the book. What did I have, then? He had failed to mention me, and yet, I know even to me my being here was a mystery. I do not blame the Captain for not knowing exactly my purpose in this endeavor. Those files, however…they cleared a lot up for me. Their importance evicted my suspicions.
"What have you?" he asked Gray.
"I have…experience."
Well don't we all have experience! At the least, then, the Captain could have spoke of me with an obvious ideal such as that, if our recruits can be as simply vague as Gray had been!
But what Mr. Quatermain said next had ordered my defeat.
"Gray and I have met before—many years ago, at Eton College."
"A lecture no doubt—you, the nation's hero, Dorian, the eagerly listening boy." offered Mina. And then,
"Quite the reverse—it was Gray visiting Eton…and I was the boy."
Immortal! How very curious! And I must say, his form of character gave quite the accent to his ability! The book made sense, almost…
Just then, Mr. Quatermain quickly retrieved his gun, cocked it, and looked above him to the second story, above the many tall bookshelves. I began to put away the heavy book.
Mina got up from where she was sitting, I watched. She seemed alarmed. "What is it?"
Rodney Skinner and I exchanged quick, cautious glances before I watched as dozens of gunmen surrounded us, above from the second loft, cocking their guns in our direction. All the gunmen—focused on shooting each of us—one across the room I viewed, who stared me down, the tip of the gun aimed at my very face. My alarms, my caution, my excitement—all arose within that very second; keeping me at the same feeling when visited my M and Mr. Reed. Ready to take flight, I knew however that could not be the case this time—not only did I not have the ability to do so—any form of movement will result in my head blown off—but I was a part of the league now. I had to fight. I had to defend. I had to take down our very enemy that I heard pace at the top of the staircase, just a few feet away.
As I hugged the bookshelf that held the mysterious novel, I thought:
Oh dear…this is not good...not good at all.