Other Fan Fiction ❯ Assembled Again ❯ Chapter 4
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Killed Ideal 
Non Anime: Other Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure / Drama / Supernatural / | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.27.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 557 | Visits: 214 | Status: Work In Progress
Non Anime: Other Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure / Drama / Supernatural / | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.27.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 557 | Visits: 214 | Status: Work In Progress
The ruins of the Britannia Club
Nairobi, Africa
A few beads of sweat streaked the tanned face of a young man who looked pale compared to the black men around him. His blue eyes narrowed as he pushed against a large piece of rubble. It rolled after being stubborn for a moment, and the characteristic grin broke out on the youth’s face, soon infecting those around him. The African sun beat down on him as he retired to the sidelines, contenting himself to watching as the natives cleared the ground of the ruined Britannia Club and pieced the bottom of a frame for a new building together. This break was not without merit, as the American had worked for seven hours the day before and eight today assisting the people of Allan Quatermain’s beloved country.
The sun and heat weren’t all that bad, the young man decided. After all, the air here was dry. While that was sometimes uncomfortable, it was a lot better than the muggy days in Missouri when he and Huck would do nearly anything to find relief, and in the middle of summer when even the Mississippi River was hot, it was near impossible. Other people might’ve, and did, admitted defeat and just laid around, but Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn never could sit still at any moment, especially when they were together.
“Shot dead,” Tom muttered to himself as he thought about Huck, and he heaved a sigh. The memory was clear to him, as clear as if it had happened only the day before. Seeing the Fantom’s cruel eyed second-in-command, Dante as Tom later knew him as, fire four bullets into Huck when Huck had attempted to follow the Fantom had left an impression on Tom that would never go away. After his long-time friend had fallen, Tom had grabbed his gun and Huck’s, which had become Allan’s gun, more for the bullets than sentimental value before pursuing the Fantom and Dante.
The blond young man looked to the side and saw two white, wooden crosses, each with the name of Quatermain carved onto it. Allan was laid to rest with his son. Something about that idea set Tom at ease. Allan was at peace.
Tom had spent six months traveling with Nemo on his beautiful ship. Finally, though, Tom had been unable to handle Nemo’s brooding demeanor, and he’d taken to wandering the European continent. Finally, he had returned here, to Allan’s beloved, his one true love from what Tom could gather. Before all else, Allan had loved Africa.
“Mister Sawyer!” a boy at least ten years Tom’s junior called as he ran up to the American. The African boy had taken to following Tom around lately, admiring the modified Winchester and elephant gun Allan had called Matilda that Tom always wore, the former on his hip and the latter on his back. Even as he worked on clearing the rubble, Tom wore the guns. “This came for you, Mister Sawyer.” The boy brandished a small, red envelope.
Tom read the envelope, aware of the boy’s interest in the language he couldn’t read himself, “Tom Sawyer of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.”
Nairobi, Africa
A few beads of sweat streaked the tanned face of a young man who looked pale compared to the black men around him. His blue eyes narrowed as he pushed against a large piece of rubble. It rolled after being stubborn for a moment, and the characteristic grin broke out on the youth’s face, soon infecting those around him. The African sun beat down on him as he retired to the sidelines, contenting himself to watching as the natives cleared the ground of the ruined Britannia Club and pieced the bottom of a frame for a new building together. This break was not without merit, as the American had worked for seven hours the day before and eight today assisting the people of Allan Quatermain’s beloved country.
The sun and heat weren’t all that bad, the young man decided. After all, the air here was dry. While that was sometimes uncomfortable, it was a lot better than the muggy days in Missouri when he and Huck would do nearly anything to find relief, and in the middle of summer when even the Mississippi River was hot, it was near impossible. Other people might’ve, and did, admitted defeat and just laid around, but Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn never could sit still at any moment, especially when they were together.
“Shot dead,” Tom muttered to himself as he thought about Huck, and he heaved a sigh. The memory was clear to him, as clear as if it had happened only the day before. Seeing the Fantom’s cruel eyed second-in-command, Dante as Tom later knew him as, fire four bullets into Huck when Huck had attempted to follow the Fantom had left an impression on Tom that would never go away. After his long-time friend had fallen, Tom had grabbed his gun and Huck’s, which had become Allan’s gun, more for the bullets than sentimental value before pursuing the Fantom and Dante.
The blond young man looked to the side and saw two white, wooden crosses, each with the name of Quatermain carved onto it. Allan was laid to rest with his son. Something about that idea set Tom at ease. Allan was at peace.
Tom had spent six months traveling with Nemo on his beautiful ship. Finally, though, Tom had been unable to handle Nemo’s brooding demeanor, and he’d taken to wandering the European continent. Finally, he had returned here, to Allan’s beloved, his one true love from what Tom could gather. Before all else, Allan had loved Africa.
“Mister Sawyer!” a boy at least ten years Tom’s junior called as he ran up to the American. The African boy had taken to following Tom around lately, admiring the modified Winchester and elephant gun Allan had called Matilda that Tom always wore, the former on his hip and the latter on his back. Even as he worked on clearing the rubble, Tom wore the guns. “This came for you, Mister Sawyer.” The boy brandished a small, red envelope.
Tom read the envelope, aware of the boy’s interest in the language he couldn’t read himself, “Tom Sawyer of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.”