Fantasy The League of Extraordinary Men Act I ~ A Strange Case

[Shabazz]

May 25, 1889
The Briefing Room, MI5 Headquarters, 221B Baker Street, London, England

Allan Quatermain stood over a small table in the middle of an office; dimly lit from the blinds covering the window which cast a shadow above his bearded mouth. The walls were a rich mahogany draped with portraits of the many notable figures in the English secret service. A dozen chairs lined the walls, the fabric deteriorated from countless agents resting before their next outing. Sitting atop the table was a large map of England. He had jabbed a few red pins into the map, most likely tracking locations of interest.
--------"If he be Mr. Hyde, I shall be Mr. Seek." he said under his breath.
The door behind Quatermain was opened, and in stepped a short, stout lady in a formal dress. As she approached the table, her face, too was veiled by the blinds.
--------"Mrs. Hudson," Quatermain paused, "It seems our little friend is southbound."
--------"Please, call me H."
--------"Last seen in London a week ago," he continued, motioning at the bright red pin sitting atop the circling streets of the city, "he was caught running through Guildford this morning."
--------"Seems like he's chasing something."
--------"Or being chased." Quatermain added, "He must be heading towards Bournemouth. If I want any chance of catching up to him I should leave now."
--------"You can't go at this alone, Quatermain. Now if you'll allow me, I'd like to escort you down to the Moore Room, where you'll be meeting your new teammates and given your equipment."

— ◆ —​

The Moore Room, MI5 Headquarters, 221 Baker Street, London, England

The room was deep within the basement of the complex, far from any other location to avoid distraction and possible breaches. In fact, the two had to take a second elevator once they reached the lower level. As the elevator came to an abrupt stop and its rusty doors opened with a squeal, the two stepped out.

It had a striking contrast to the rest of the building. Instead of wooden walls and Victorian archways there stood concrete pillars and and ceilings lined with fluorescent lights that lit the room with solid white light. Quatermain squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust from the orange daylight of the Sahara to the sterile, disinfecting light of the Moore Room.

There were tables all around the room, with workers dressed in white operating complex machinery to produce the equipment and gadgets that agents would carry with them on a mission.
--------"Welcome to the Moore Room, Quatermain." H said, and with a wave of her hand, two staff walked over to a nearby table with a white veil over it. They carefully took the cover off, unveiling a small arsenal of weaponry and equipment that the team would be using on their first mission. Quatermain's eyes lit up as he saw what he was looking for all this time. H saw it too, walking closer to give his team leader the briefing.
--------"I can see you've found your elephant gun." Quatermain picked up his gun, looking it over, inspecting every inch for damage. He opened the bolt.
--------"Where are the-"
--------"Tranquilizers, Quatermain. We need him back alive."
Fuming, the hunter closed the bolt and set the gun back onto the table. He strafed to the right, looking over the other equipment being provided.
--------"An experimental kangaroo whip equipped with a built-in taser. Very high voltage. Could come in handy." H started, "Moving on, we have a few gallons of chloroform. I'm sure you're familiar with it. And, finally, a net composed of super heavy micro-chain mail. Chain him up in case you can't get him to sleep."
Quatermain was pleased with the advanced technology MI5 provided, but he was more a traditionalist, and planned to stay that way.
--------"The new members of your team will arrive shortly, I'm sure of it." H spoke while Quatermain was still fantasizing about finally capturing the beast known as Mr. Hyde. "We have one more thing for you, Quatermain." she said to the huntsman who whipped around on his heels, showing but a hint of interest in his eyes. "A gift from the infamous Dr. Victor Frankenstein" she continued, "think of it as a tool to help in your tracking, a search dog... of sorts."
--------"Of sorts?"
The Manager quickly signaled to two staff in the corner of the room. They hesitantly unveiled the body that had been sitting under the gleaming light of an operating table, revealing the remains of several men, stitched together to form what was Frankenstein's creation. Quatermain's jaw dropped as the "man", if it could be called so, opened it's eyes and sat up on the table. Quatermain, having no other option but to wait for the others, approached it.
--------"Speak, beast. What is your name?"

— ◆ —​

S Shabazz
Dove
Radio_Rat66.6
idalie
Yahhah
Safety Hammer

 

[Yahhah]

As the monster awoke it took in its surroundings with a lazy attitude, it stretched its limbs and back producing a few audible cracks. When it heard Quartermain's command the monster looked confused. It looked from side to side before it let out what had to be a sigh. "Oh yes of course, you are referring to me. I don't even know why I act surprised" said the Monster. Speaking in a civilised manner for one of such a monstrous appearance. "Please refer to me as Frank, most call me Frankenstein's Monster. I would rather not be reminded of my... Creator". Frank gave a grunt as he lifted himself from the table. Standing at his full eight foot height. He continued to gaze around at the room. The monster slapped a bit of dust from his shirt.
"Would you please tell me just where I am. I do not recall entering this....Place. And on the topic where might one find the exit, human company and I do not seem to mix well" said Frank. He looked upon the walls noting all of the gadgets on the wall, and tables.

 

[Radio_Rat66.6]

Atherra was reluctant to leave the lake. She would walk the floor, several times making new or old discoveries within the depths. The lake had quickly become her home and she didn't like leaving it. It did mean that she would occasionally have to hide from people, but it was home to her. But she had received a summons so she would have to go where she was requested.
She emerged from the water, her hair and clothes dripping and soaking the ground beneath her. She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on being dry. The world had changed, but a woman practically dripping water constantly probably wouldn't go over well with them. She looked at the summons and made her way to 221 Baker street. She focused on everything dry to keep her from dripping water.
She finally arrived at the address and once she stepped inside she let her focus fall. Her body was once again soaked like she had just stepped from the depths of her lake. She pushed her hair to her back and walked to where the rest of her teammates were.
"Terribly sorry I'm late. My lake is quite a ways from here. I am Atherra and it's a pleasure to meet you."
She spoke softly and smiled, bowing gently at the waist to the two she assumed were part of the team.
"I apologize for the water, it's quite difficult for me to control it. If you wish me to, I could stop it so I don't damage your floors."

S Shabazz Yahhah​

 

[idalie]

Dr. James H. Watts​

Whitechapel General Practice, London, England.

The esteemed doctor wiped his hands with a coarse rag, skin tight with the application of alcohol in his bid for sanitisation. Godliness next to cleanliness as it was taught and most certainly enforced, for how many men had put the public at stake after the lack of hygiene presented before meddling in anatomical matters? Nay, it would not be in Watts’ surgery that some poor fool would leave worse than when he entered.

“I have a meeting today, Matron. I understand you know the reins well and our young charge should be able to handle the hum-drum day-to-day.” James spoke whilst shrugging off his long, white coat and exchanging it for a heavier design of overcoat. Tightly woven wool that kept out the sodding English rain which rattled the windows through the winter and tapped as a tempting mistress in the spring. The Matron, head of what little assistance there was in the surgery bowed her head, hair pinned up tightly beneath a small cap pulling her pudgy and aged features of which stoicism had creased her brow.

“Of course, Doctor. A shame you should be away now more than ever, but as they say, duty does call. These medical conferences are a boon.” The older woman glanced off, James fixing his unbuttoned cuff and again knotting his tie in the reflection of a glass cabinet.
“Matron, you are a blessing in disguise. Don’t be late home to your husband, I know the difficulty of returning to a cold hearth,” His tired gaze flickered toward the trusted employee, “Good day, Molly. Trust in that cough syrup for your boy, a little will clear his chest in no time.”

Jamming a bowler hat on his head as if a proud yet downtrodden King, James stepped onto cobbled streets with the rattle of horse and trap. Shouting emanated from much of the pathways as he narrowly avoided the steaming horse manure that drowned the very capital of England. Nevertheless, Watts opted to flag down a hansom rather than traipse his way past the gaunt glares. Sooty and filth-ridden. It was hard to operate as a charitable force when most would fight tooth and claw against help, preferring to rob you blind in desperation. It couldn’t be helped that resentment became the taboo emotion of a Doctors career.

Yet this would be no medical conference he attended, but a league of its own. Invited to attend something that required other use of his talents. Between his work for the East End, trawling through painful memories of his time in Romania and struggling to balance his own abilities - the Gentlemen for whom he would associate himself with offered respite and change.


221 Baker Street, London, England.

The cab pulled to a pause from its rattling silence, leaving James to disembark and pay his dues. Making his way to the front door, he paused before knocking and looked to his bare hands with pinched annoyance. He’d forgotten his gloves. Often such a trivial thing wouldn’t have been given much afterthought, but embarrassingly enough he occasionally would happen to turn silverware into lead or otherwise. That slight safety was gone, however, he remained firm in his decision to not miss the importance of their gathering. Returning home to fetch his gloves was inexcusable and uppity in his opinion, so he went ahead and knocked.

Entering thanks to a member of staff, Doctor Watts was shown to the empty briefing room. Perhaps he was the first one? Nay, nay, they would be another place and he should bide his time. Instead, the Doctor occupied himself by peering into the map of Britain and smiled wryly. “This sceptred isle,” He shook his head in uttered amusement and inspected again the plotting of red pinnings. Locations, but for what? And whom?

Mentions: Radio_Rat66.6 S Shabazz Yahhah
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[Safety Hammer]

Arséne Lupin
Location: 221 Baker Street
Interactions: Yahhah Radio_Rat66.6 S Shabazz Dove idalie

There are many, many things to love about England, in the opinion of Arséne Lupin. There were beautiful beaches, lots of history and monuments, getting a shave from that one barber on Fleet Street, and most of all, museums of priceless artifacts and treasures just waiting to be stolen away. But what Lupin did not like was the constant gray skies and muddy streets of Foggy ol' London Town. Certainly not as dignified as Paris.

The thief watched silently and undetected from the fire escape, luckily shielded from the drizzle of rain that began to occur outside and peering into the house from the window near Doctor Watson's desk. How bizarre it was that they were to be meeting up at the home of his one time nemesis. It was rather foolish of John Watson to publish the floor plan of their house in one of their more recent stories. Who knew what kind of people would get their hands on it, after all!

With a grin, he wached the lumbering beast of Doctor Frankenstein, the one woman who seemed to need a towel, and the handsome looking alchemist introduce themselves, one by one until he himself was left Always one for a grand entrance, he quietly slipped into the nearby window, the one behind the curtains, and waited for a good thirty seconds, before popping out with style, flicking his long cape behind him as he made himself known.

"Ha ha! Gentlemen, your master thief has arrived." He said with a wicked smile as he walked out from behind the curtains. He walked over to the old Mister Quartermain and shook his band politely, putting on his most charming smile.

"Arséne Lupin, gentleman thief. Entirely at your service."