Other Fan Fiction ❯ Assembled Again ❯ Chapter 7
[ 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: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 231 | Status: Work In Progress
Non Anime: Other Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure / Drama / Supernatural / | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.27.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 231 | Status: Work In Progress
Albion Museum
Tottenham, Court Road
The large room tucked away beneath the museum had been put to use by the mysterious M as a place to call the headquarters of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. That had been nothing but a hoax. All of the portraits hung upon the walls that had been claimed to be former League members were merely paintings grouped by their approximate era.
“It's almost a pity that there wasn't a League before us,” Henry Jekyll commented to the seemingly empty room. He studied the paintings as carefully as he had studied every other aspect of the room. At least they were absolutely stunning pieces of art.
“I forgot you hadn't been here before,” Skinner's voice came from a chair that tipped itself back onto its two back legs.
“This really is a beautiful room,” Jekyll remarked, more to himself than the invisible man. Skinner seemed to give a scoff at the appreciative words. The thin, almost ragged looking doctor looked to the side of the room as the heavy oak doors there opened. Mina Harker walked into the room, her stride powerful despite her dainty appearance.
“Dr. Jekyll,” politely, “Skinner,” a bit colder, the woman issued her greetings with a small incline of her head to each as she spoke. Jekyll bowed at the waist, but Skinner did not even rise from his seat. Mina escorted herself, ignoring Jekyll's move forward to help her, to a seat. “We have all received one of these,” she questioned as she displayed the red card that had awaited her at her home, “I presume?” Without a word, Skinner and Jekyll displayed their cards.
“Wonder who our mystery host is this time,” Skinner mused aloud as he stowed his card back in the pocket of his black coat.
“It reeks of M,” Mina muttered sourly, a grimace on her features.
“I can assure you, Mrs. Harker, I am not from the same mold as Professor James Moriarty,” a new male voice said. The three League members were a little surprised. None of them had heard the man enter the room, and all three looked at him, both curious and suspicious. He was a portly sort, much like Campion, though his mustache was not as grand as Campion's, and he had a more jovial look to him.
“Who are you, sir? We have been tricked before, as you seem well aware. Your full name, if you would,” Jekyll said. A snicker left Skinner. The good doctor had straightened up, cocked his head, and made a decently imposing figure of himself until he had spoken. That reedy tone and uncertain waver in it could intimidate no one.
“Don't worry, Dr. Jekyll,” the man said. “I will tell you anything you want to know about myself. I do request, however, that you allow me to wait until the others arrive, so that I do not have to repeat myself. We are missing only Mr. Sawyer and Captain Nemo, I do believe. Well, there is one more, but I met him personally.”
“One more?” Mina asked.
The stranger sighed before he said, “Regrettable as Allan Quatermain's death was, I felt it appropriate that I find another member.”
“Hopefully,” Jekyll said with more than a little distaste in his tone, “this new recruit of yours will replace Mr. Quatermain rather than Gray.”
“This member has a very pressing reason to aid the League,” the portly gentleman assured the assembled.
“Gray said he did,” Skinner pointed out before giving a snort. That was one thing he and Jekyll could agree on. Gray. And the fact that the man was an absolute bastard.
Before the man being questioned could reply, the door opened again. The somber, turbaned form of Nemo was followed by the energetic American, who was animated in his retelling of some narrative to the captain. Any who saw them would have been as aware as the League that Tom was, almost completely, talking more to himself than to Nemo.
“Captain Nemo, Mr. Sawyer, welcome,” the gentleman greeted them warmly.
Tom stopped his talking immediately, looking at the man, and he frowned a little. “Why're you usin' this place?” the youngest of the group asked, seeming to join the others in their suspicions. “After all, why'd you think any of us... Well, more them... would want to come back here after what happened with M?”
“It was a gamble, Mr. Sawyer,” the man explained as the severe-eyed captain moved to sit in a chair without the word. “And it is a gamble that seems to have worked. Please, take a seat.” Hesitantly, ready to pull Allan's elephant gun off his back where it was still carried, the American did sit down, watching the man carefully.
“Now, sir,” Henry Jekyll spoke again, ignoring Skinner's snickering at his fresh attempt to appear at least somewhat imposing, “we are all here. Who are you?”
“I am Doctor John Hamish Watson, better known as simply as Watson,” the man explained patiently.
“Watson?” Mina said with some surprise.
“You're the man who worked with the Sherlock Holmes?” Tom asked, eyes wide with boyish delight. Even as an American, some of Watson's writings that had been published after Holmes's death had found their way to him.
“Yes, Mr. Sawyer, I am,” Watson said with a small smile.
“That explains you knowing about M, I'll give you that,” Skinner muttered, though his voice seemed to say that he wasn't clearing Watson of all suspicion just yet!
“And it would seem,” the deep voice of the formerly silent Captain Nemo was intimidating without the man even trying, “that makes you a better ally than an unnamed man promising to speak for the good of the world.”
“I am glad for those words, Captain,” Watson responded, nodding his head to the Indian man.
“So, what was the purpose of your calling card, Doctor?” Mina asked, her surprise forgotten and the card remembered.
“There is trouble, lady and gentlemen. On the surface, it seems to be merely England's trouble. There have been murders--”
“What? Those London slum ones?” Skinner asked, scoffing. “Bunch of whores and renters are all. Pretty interesting though. Strangled, most of them... a few beaten into bloody pulps...”
“I have read similar reports,” Mina said, her voice as cold as ice, “but now is not the time to talk about them, Mr. Skinner.” Her green eyes flickered over to the silent form of Henry Jekyll. He was slumped further back in his seat, his face paler than it had been and his hands tightly clasped together.
“Yes... Those are... regrettable,” Watson said slowly before he cleared his throat, “but we are not here to talk about those.” When Jekyll seemed to untense just a small bit, Watson continued. “There had been other murders, along the coastline. The victims appear, again, to be strangled, but afterwards, their throats are slit completely open from the side, and they seem to be drained of all blood.”
“A vampire? In England? Cutting its victims throats to hide the bite marks?” Mina whispered, a grimace coming across her face. She still felt the influence of Dracula at times, but she was not completely one of those creatures.
“It would appear so, Mrs. Harker,” Watson said. “However, these have recently stopped in London, but reports from other countries have appeared, the exact same pattern. It seems it started in Romania, left a trail of blood through various countries until reaching England, and the killer, as it would appear to be the same one, is now retracing its steps.”
“Could it be...” Tom started to asked, looking at Mina, and she finished for him, no question in her voice.
“Dracula.”
“But you said you killed him!” Skinner snapped, and Jekyll was surprised to hear a bit of fear in the unseen man's voice.
“I said that my husband, Jonathon, and I, along with Van Helsing, battled Dracula and won. However, I do not think it is possible to kill that... that thing,” Mina muttered.
“Then,” Jekyll said quietly, looking around the room, “we're going after him?”
“These murders cannot be allowed to continue to happen,” Watson said with a sigh. “M promised you many things, and he delivered in some way or another. I can promise you nothing. The British government, of course, does not see cause to cause about other countries, as it appears to have left their Empire. I can only ask that in the name of humanity...”
“Dracula is a threat to the world if he has risen again,” Mina said firmly. The look she gave to the other League members dared any one of them to disagree with her.
“And it is not only Dracula,” Watson added softly. “There is another threat. The marks on the victims necks that indicate being strangled are of a man's hands, but far too large for any man. There was one man who fears that he knows what is doing that.”
“What man is this?” Nemo asked solemnly.
Just as the question was being asked, another man walked into the room, and his words came quietly, “Myself. I fear that whatever evil is feeding upon the blood of its victims is using my own creation to help in its killing spree.”
Henry Jekyll's eyes went wide as he sat up straight in his chair, and he whispered as he stood, “Dr. Frankenstein!”
Tottenham, Court Road
The large room tucked away beneath the museum had been put to use by the mysterious M as a place to call the headquarters of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. That had been nothing but a hoax. All of the portraits hung upon the walls that had been claimed to be former League members were merely paintings grouped by their approximate era.
“It's almost a pity that there wasn't a League before us,” Henry Jekyll commented to the seemingly empty room. He studied the paintings as carefully as he had studied every other aspect of the room. At least they were absolutely stunning pieces of art.
“I forgot you hadn't been here before,” Skinner's voice came from a chair that tipped itself back onto its two back legs.
“This really is a beautiful room,” Jekyll remarked, more to himself than the invisible man. Skinner seemed to give a scoff at the appreciative words. The thin, almost ragged looking doctor looked to the side of the room as the heavy oak doors there opened. Mina Harker walked into the room, her stride powerful despite her dainty appearance.
“Dr. Jekyll,” politely, “Skinner,” a bit colder, the woman issued her greetings with a small incline of her head to each as she spoke. Jekyll bowed at the waist, but Skinner did not even rise from his seat. Mina escorted herself, ignoring Jekyll's move forward to help her, to a seat. “We have all received one of these,” she questioned as she displayed the red card that had awaited her at her home, “I presume?” Without a word, Skinner and Jekyll displayed their cards.
“Wonder who our mystery host is this time,” Skinner mused aloud as he stowed his card back in the pocket of his black coat.
“It reeks of M,” Mina muttered sourly, a grimace on her features.
“I can assure you, Mrs. Harker, I am not from the same mold as Professor James Moriarty,” a new male voice said. The three League members were a little surprised. None of them had heard the man enter the room, and all three looked at him, both curious and suspicious. He was a portly sort, much like Campion, though his mustache was not as grand as Campion's, and he had a more jovial look to him.
“Who are you, sir? We have been tricked before, as you seem well aware. Your full name, if you would,” Jekyll said. A snicker left Skinner. The good doctor had straightened up, cocked his head, and made a decently imposing figure of himself until he had spoken. That reedy tone and uncertain waver in it could intimidate no one.
“Don't worry, Dr. Jekyll,” the man said. “I will tell you anything you want to know about myself. I do request, however, that you allow me to wait until the others arrive, so that I do not have to repeat myself. We are missing only Mr. Sawyer and Captain Nemo, I do believe. Well, there is one more, but I met him personally.”
“One more?” Mina asked.
The stranger sighed before he said, “Regrettable as Allan Quatermain's death was, I felt it appropriate that I find another member.”
“Hopefully,” Jekyll said with more than a little distaste in his tone, “this new recruit of yours will replace Mr. Quatermain rather than Gray.”
“This member has a very pressing reason to aid the League,” the portly gentleman assured the assembled.
“Gray said he did,” Skinner pointed out before giving a snort. That was one thing he and Jekyll could agree on. Gray. And the fact that the man was an absolute bastard.
Before the man being questioned could reply, the door opened again. The somber, turbaned form of Nemo was followed by the energetic American, who was animated in his retelling of some narrative to the captain. Any who saw them would have been as aware as the League that Tom was, almost completely, talking more to himself than to Nemo.
“Captain Nemo, Mr. Sawyer, welcome,” the gentleman greeted them warmly.
Tom stopped his talking immediately, looking at the man, and he frowned a little. “Why're you usin' this place?” the youngest of the group asked, seeming to join the others in their suspicions. “After all, why'd you think any of us... Well, more them... would want to come back here after what happened with M?”
“It was a gamble, Mr. Sawyer,” the man explained as the severe-eyed captain moved to sit in a chair without the word. “And it is a gamble that seems to have worked. Please, take a seat.” Hesitantly, ready to pull Allan's elephant gun off his back where it was still carried, the American did sit down, watching the man carefully.
“Now, sir,” Henry Jekyll spoke again, ignoring Skinner's snickering at his fresh attempt to appear at least somewhat imposing, “we are all here. Who are you?”
“I am Doctor John Hamish Watson, better known as simply as Watson,” the man explained patiently.
“Watson?” Mina said with some surprise.
“You're the man who worked with the Sherlock Holmes?” Tom asked, eyes wide with boyish delight. Even as an American, some of Watson's writings that had been published after Holmes's death had found their way to him.
“Yes, Mr. Sawyer, I am,” Watson said with a small smile.
“That explains you knowing about M, I'll give you that,” Skinner muttered, though his voice seemed to say that he wasn't clearing Watson of all suspicion just yet!
“And it would seem,” the deep voice of the formerly silent Captain Nemo was intimidating without the man even trying, “that makes you a better ally than an unnamed man promising to speak for the good of the world.”
“I am glad for those words, Captain,” Watson responded, nodding his head to the Indian man.
“So, what was the purpose of your calling card, Doctor?” Mina asked, her surprise forgotten and the card remembered.
“There is trouble, lady and gentlemen. On the surface, it seems to be merely England's trouble. There have been murders--”
“What? Those London slum ones?” Skinner asked, scoffing. “Bunch of whores and renters are all. Pretty interesting though. Strangled, most of them... a few beaten into bloody pulps...”
“I have read similar reports,” Mina said, her voice as cold as ice, “but now is not the time to talk about them, Mr. Skinner.” Her green eyes flickered over to the silent form of Henry Jekyll. He was slumped further back in his seat, his face paler than it had been and his hands tightly clasped together.
“Yes... Those are... regrettable,” Watson said slowly before he cleared his throat, “but we are not here to talk about those.” When Jekyll seemed to untense just a small bit, Watson continued. “There had been other murders, along the coastline. The victims appear, again, to be strangled, but afterwards, their throats are slit completely open from the side, and they seem to be drained of all blood.”
“A vampire? In England? Cutting its victims throats to hide the bite marks?” Mina whispered, a grimace coming across her face. She still felt the influence of Dracula at times, but she was not completely one of those creatures.
“It would appear so, Mrs. Harker,” Watson said. “However, these have recently stopped in London, but reports from other countries have appeared, the exact same pattern. It seems it started in Romania, left a trail of blood through various countries until reaching England, and the killer, as it would appear to be the same one, is now retracing its steps.”
“Could it be...” Tom started to asked, looking at Mina, and she finished for him, no question in her voice.
“Dracula.”
“But you said you killed him!” Skinner snapped, and Jekyll was surprised to hear a bit of fear in the unseen man's voice.
“I said that my husband, Jonathon, and I, along with Van Helsing, battled Dracula and won. However, I do not think it is possible to kill that... that thing,” Mina muttered.
“Then,” Jekyll said quietly, looking around the room, “we're going after him?”
“These murders cannot be allowed to continue to happen,” Watson said with a sigh. “M promised you many things, and he delivered in some way or another. I can promise you nothing. The British government, of course, does not see cause to cause about other countries, as it appears to have left their Empire. I can only ask that in the name of humanity...”
“Dracula is a threat to the world if he has risen again,” Mina said firmly. The look she gave to the other League members dared any one of them to disagree with her.
“And it is not only Dracula,” Watson added softly. “There is another threat. The marks on the victims necks that indicate being strangled are of a man's hands, but far too large for any man. There was one man who fears that he knows what is doing that.”
“What man is this?” Nemo asked solemnly.
Just as the question was being asked, another man walked into the room, and his words came quietly, “Myself. I fear that whatever evil is feeding upon the blood of its victims is using my own creation to help in its killing spree.”
Henry Jekyll's eyes went wide as he sat up straight in his chair, and he whispered as he stood, “Dr. Frankenstein!”