Now

London

Harmony walked quickly down Westminster Bridge, nervously looking over her shoulder every ten steps. She held her cell phone up to her ear, listening to the ringing impatiently.

"Hello?" answered Mernae groggily.

"This is Harmony. He's dead oh my god he's dead."

"Slow down, pet. What are you talking about?"

"James Bond. He's dead, or dying, I don't know. He was in my apartment, and then he fainted in the middle of my living room."

"What?"

"Something happened to Bond, okay? He collapsed while I was in the bathroom. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I get you. Christ, what happened to him?"

"I don't know… It must have been a heart attack or something."

"Did you call for an ambulance?"

"I told Michael, Bond's bodyguard. He called for one and gave him CPR."

"Where'd they take him?"

"St. Mirryn's Hospital."

"Isn't there anyone with you now?"

"I'm not there. I left."

"What? You le… Harmony, you need to get back there. They're going to want to get in contact with you, you'll make them suspicious."

"It doesn't matter."

"Listen, just calm down. I'll come and meet you, we'll talk, and we'll work everything out."

"I quit, Mern. That's it, I'm out."

"Harmony, I understand where this is coming from, but-."

"I'm not going back."

"You have to go back."

"I was going to kill him, Mernae." said Harmony, her voice grown tremulous.

"…What?"

"I had a gun. I bought it for four hundred pounds from a Yardie in Hackney. I was going to blow his brain out, if he didn't have that heart attach first."

"Harmony, where can I find you."

"Goodbye, Mern, you'll never see or hear from me again."

"Don't be daft, Harmony! As soon as they notice you're missing they'll be watching the airports!"

"I'll take my chances. Good luck with your war games."

Harmony flipped her phone shut, the hurled it over the side of the bridge. She faintly heard the splash as it hit the water, and she felt great relief. She felt cleansed, and free. Rejuvenated, she quickened up her pace, and raised a hand to hail a taxi.

--------------------------

News of Bond's condition was not the sort to be well reported, but where it would be would gain the knowledge fast. A handful of kings, presidents, and spymasters most rum gained knowledge of it, and so did the coalition of those in opposition to the league.

-------------------------

The Yellow Submarine

Nemo held his interlocked fists to his chin as he sat looking at three screens, each displaying one of his associates as they bickered.

"We have to move now." Barbossa grumbled, "We're never going to get a chance like this."

"By this point, Emma Peel will have taken up the position of Chairwoman." Said Mason, "She's every bit as capable as Bond, she'll have no trouble at-"

"There's bound to be a period of disarray, a window that will close unless we act."

"What do we know precisely about Bond's condition?" asked Raimus, "For all we know, he's recovered by now."

"Unlikely. Jimmy Saint has been undercover at St. Merryn's as an orderly and he claims that the doctors are baffled. Several experts, including a team of diagnosticians from New Jersey are being flown in to lend their services.

"Fact of the matters is; we're not ready yet."

"We're as ready as we're ever likely to get. We've got men poised to take out three branch directors as we speak."

"Their efforts would be futile unless we have all seven covered. Then there's Peel. Not to mention-"

"Hold on, Jack." Said Raimus, "You've been quiet, Nemo. Uncharacteristically so. What do you think?"

The tree waited for Nemo to speak, but he did not. He merely removed his hands and set them at his sides as he leaned back in his chair and did not talk.

"Nemo?"

"For the past few months, I've been feeling very conflicted. I suppose it all started on that island, before we headed to the volcano, with Gump's interrogation, the last words he yelled to us before Fareed Almasry shot him in the head. How that our soul purpose was the destruction of an entity that for the better and worst keeps the world spinning., without offering any kind of solution or alternative."

"Dakkar-"

"On one rare occasion, when Priest and I were more or less on the same page, he said something about the necessity of taking a good, hard look at himself and the world around him every now and then, to see if something hadn't gone too awry. At the time, I thought little of it, and I smiled and nodded politely. But what he said was a lot more profound than I originally thought."

"He was absolutely right." Said Nemo, "We had lost the way, let ourselves be corrupted by lingering resentment, and wounded pride. But I've had a good, long look at myself, and us. And it's become so clear.

"The odds are stacked against us, as they have always been, as they always will be, but we will go on the offensive. We're going to attack the higher echelons of the league, and work our way down from there. We're ill-prepared, but we'll do what it takes. We'll do it not because Bond may well be on his death bed, but because the world can't afford to endure any more of their reign. We'll fight them wherever they stand, and we will prevail. And when its all said and done, when the dust has settles and the smoke has cleared, those of us left standing will be the alternative, we'll help this tired, battered world, became the extraordinary place it once was."

None of the three men said anything, merely staring forward, pondering what's been said. It was Mason who finally broke the silence, and said,

"Well then, there's much to do, and not enough time. Let's get to it."

Hours Later

Siberia

The old man of the wilderness fastened his boots and stood up, nudging the creaky floor to settle his feet in. He put on the gunbelt, feeling the dear comforting iron weighing down on his waist, he slipped on his old, tan duster and black gloves, he donned his wide brimmed hat and he felt ready.

Anatol Adamska, known to most as Revolver Ocelot had been called back into service, one of his former commanders, one of the few he respected, commanded him to take action, and he would not refuse Captain Raimus. He would perform his labors with relish and then he would return here and wait for the end.

Ocelot picked a plate off the kitchen table, filled with freshly minced meat and placed it on the floor. A mutt came limping and started to feed.

"Take your time," said Ocelot in his gravely voice as he headed to the door, "I'll be back in a few days."

Hours More Later

Cairo

Yusuf al-Kherish reclined in the back of his limousine with a glass of Scotch in his hand, his right hand man, Haytham, sat next to him, speaking on his cell phone to his subordinates.

"The airport has been secured, sir." Said Haytham, "The plain is set to leave right now and we're to land in Larkhil Military Airport."

"Any word on Bond?"

"He's in critical condition, but stable."

"In other words, nothing knew." Said the director, "Unbelievable, the one man with a hold over three in four heads of state and he comes to this. I always told him all the whoring and the vodka martinis would be the end of him…. Still, he's a good man, and strong. Hopefully he'll pull through."

"We're here, sir." Said Haytham, the car started to slow down, coasting toward a spot on the runway by the private jet.

"You don't suppose the opposition could have been behind any of it."

"Impossible. This is the chairman of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen we're talking about; he has one to three bodyguards with him at all time, that actually can be identified as such, he's also accompanied by anywhere from a dozen to a score of undercover agents from a rotating roaster of highly capable agents who look as mundane as you've ever met. Not to mention surgically implanted positioning devices and…. Well, you get the idea."

"Has Mrs. Peel chosen a new VC?"

"That's Chairwoman Peel to you, and yes, she's opted for both myself and Director Leiter."

"Really? That's… That's not protocol, is it?"

"She's the League Chairwoman for now, Agent; she can whatever she damn well pleases. It's not official, of course, you're the fourth person to know, and I expect one of us, myself probably, will be the unacknowledged VP."

The car came to a halt. Armed guards in business suits disembarked from both escort cars accompanying the director's own, and spread out to ensure that no mistake had been made.

One man stepped up to the car and opened the door for the director, who stepped out onto the tarmac, followed by Haytham. The two headed swiftly to the stairs leading to the open hatch door.

The bullet grazed Haytham's shoulder before it struck the director right in the heart, he stood three steps away from inside the luxury jet, holding his hand to the hole in his chest, feeling the warm, liquid life oozing out of him before he exhaled his last breath, and tumbled back onto his minder. Haytham grabbed onto his superior, suddenly feeling the sharp pain in his shoulder as he yelled and called for a medic.

Off the coast of Denmark

The Yellow Submarine

Nemo stood be himself atop the submarine's conning tower, looking ahead at the coast as it loomed on the horizon, and a curious, shapeless golden patch in the water a few dozen feet away from the submarine's water line. A cell phone he had in his back pocket started ringing, he reached for it and picked up, speaking without the customary greetings.

"It's done? Good." Have a pleasant return back to base."

"I'm not heading straight to New York?" asked Mona on the other side.

"Leiter will surely be out by the time you get there. We'll have to wait."

"Alright."

Mona hung up, Nemo went to place his phone on the edge of the railing, but he was distracted by something else, so it fell over the edge, slipped down the side of the submarine and into the water. The golden spot of glittering water that had held his attention for a moment a minute ago was changing. Moving. Slowly, the golden water started to condense into a small patch.

Nemo leaned over the railing, squinting, trying to get a better look at what his eyes could not believe.

A figure emerged from the water, rising erect as the patch traveled closer to the submarine. Human, and feminine. For the last three feet, she seemed to walk on the water's surface. Nemo couldn't believe what he was seeing. The creature continued its journey, scaling the side of the submarine with ease.

For the first time in a long time the mariner was genuinely afraid. He backed away from the railing, dreading the moment the creature would arrive, yet his curiosity prevented him from escaping, or calling for help.

The creature finally emerged, setting one of its feet with a talon under the heel on deck at a time. She was tall, and nude, if not for an eerie golden coating that covered every inch of her. Her hair was brown and long, and tied into a single braid that seemed to move of its own like a tail. If one could look past these unearthly attributes and look upon her features, they'd find that she had a hellish kind of beauty to her, or it.

"You need not be frightened, prince."

Her voice was faint yet clear, like a violin playing in the wind.

"Who are you?"

"A messenger, with a message from Mr. Spiggot." She said and then paused, as iftyo give Nemo time to remember the significance of the name, and to dread what would come next, "Your time is running low."

Nemo hung his head, and with a sigh full of worry he looked back up.

"How much do I have left?"

"Oh, that's up to you, really. You could go to the armory, find a gun, be in control of your destiny. Or you could leave it all, find Miss Lee, live out the rest of your years in your own heaven, before you inevitably fall. But the end is coming, of that you may be certain.

"Unless…" said the creature, pausing for dramatic effect once again "You were to extend your contract, offer another soul as collateral. Say… Miss Sax's? Or perhaps Wagner's, she'd be a most splendid gift…."

Nemo looked to her in disdain. He turned around and headed for the vaulted door.

"The devil will get what he paid for, should he ever dare to come and collect."

As Nemo went to turn the wheel, the tip of her braid caressed his shoulder.

"Now, my prince… Master Spiggot wanted to let you know he appreciated your war, he quite enjoyed your speech yesterday, so powerful, and moving. Almost convincing, even. Master Spiggot appreciates good drama."

"You've delivered your message, now get away from me!"

She laughed, full of sadistic pleasure andimpudence.

"Just remember, Prince Dakkar, make it good."

Sorry this took so long, computer viruses, computer theft and life got in the way. Anyway, I hope to update quite regularly from here on out.

Next Chapter

Priest gets psychiatric visit, whil the war continues.

R&R.