Crucible of Fear pt. 8

[sawyerfan]

Oh boy...it's getting closer to completion!

PG to PG-13

Don't own squat, especially any of the characters I didn't make up.

PART 8

“So what do we do now, Allan?” Skinner asked warily, glancing between his old friends and his new League ones. “Twazie’s on the look-out for Tom all over the city.”

“I can call off the rest of my men,” Barlow offered, “but there’s some other gangs working for Twazul as well. Even if you make a break for that house you’re staying at, he’s got men posing as drivers and anything else you can think of. That Twazul gent wants the boy-o awful bad.”

Quatermain glanced over at Sawyer worriedly, noting the young agent’s eyes were squinting in pain. The boy needed rest, but with London’s underworld after them, where could they go without someone noticing?

“Do you have a hideout nearby we can use?” the hunter asked. “I’m willing to pay for it.”

Skinner did a double-take. Allan wanted help from the men who were hired to kidnap Sawyer? Taking a quick look in Tom’s direction, the invisible rogue knew why there was a change in heart. The American spy looked ready to collapse into a heap. Not that he could blame the kid. It had been a hellava couple of days.

The leader of the group was just as surprised by the request. “You’re wanting our help? Even though we....?”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Quatermain said with a grunt. “We don’t have time to stand here and chit chat. Do you have anything or not?”

“Uh, sure, gov’ner. Only a few blocks down,” Barlow replied. “You remember where it’s at, don’t you, Rodney?”

A small chuckle came from the pure white face. “Key still in the same spot?”

Nodding, the head gang member winked. “The extras are in the same place too.”

“Weapons?” Sawyer asked eagerly, his eyes showing some animation.

“Uh, sure...,” Barlow admitted with a raised brow. This kid sure seemed enthused about that possibility!

“Skinner, I want you to stay with the gang,” Allan instructed his invisible teammate. “I want Barlow ,your cousin, and another one to come with us.” Pointing at the two remaining gang members, the hunter motioned to them. “I want to trade coats and I want both your hats as well.” Sawyer wasn’t wearing his black hat, but the adventurer wanted to hide the blonde mop of hair as much as possible, even if it might mean some discomfort for the young man due to his head injury.

After receiving approval from their leader, the two men coughed up their apparel, inspecting the finer quality they got in return. The old codger definitely had money.

Tom tried on his ‘trade’ and almost laughed. His hands totally disappeared under the longer sleeves and its length touched his shoes. “I think this is yours, Dad.” He smiled in Allan’s direction, holding the lip of his derby hat up to keep it from falling over his eyes.

The young spy couldn’t help but grin calling the man he admired most in the world that name. He couldn’t begin to tell Allan how many times he envied other kids doing things with their fathers as he watched wistfully from the sidelines while growing up. He loved Aunt Polly with all his being, but she wasn’t the male role model he so desperately craved. Instead he turned to the stories he greedily inhaled like oxygen, one set of adventures capturing him more than the others. The great white hunter, Allan Quatermain was the man he identified the most with, and having met the man in person, he knew without a doubt his devotion was well placed.

With a small chuckle, Allan allowed a moment of levity as he took Tom’s huge hat, and placed his way too small one gently upon Sawyer’s injured head before he took the offered coat from the young American. He had to admit the clothing he had obtained was a tad snug for his liking, and the coat he swapped with Tom was still a roomy fit on the boy, but at least he wouldn’t be stepping on it.

Skinner watched his teammates with a smile. About time those two started acting like what he and the others saw...a father and son. It had been brewing ever since Allan allowed the American agent into the League, but because of emotional baggage, it was kept in generality. Everyone knew, but no one said it aloud.

Quatermain glanced over at the former thief. “Skinner, I need to speak to you,” he said, waving Rodney towards him. Once the rogue came over, Allan pulled his comrades away from Barlow and his group.

Eyeing Skinner and Sawyer with a renewed seriousness, the hunter explained his plan. Having exchanged clothing with some of the gang, hopefully people would assume he and Tom were part of Barlow’s entourage, giving them cover and some time for the blonde agent to get some much needed rest. It would also send the rest of the League on a false lead. Allan suspected they would follow Tom, but since Twazul had entered their minds, and could still control them, he didn’t want them leading the mystic straight to where Sawyer was...at least not yet.

“We should go after Twazul immediately,” Tom began to insist, doing his best to hide his discomfort and fatigue. He wanted the mystic’s threat over his second family stopped now.

Frowning down at his adoptive son, Allan shook his head forcefully. “No. I’m only allowing you to stay in London on the condition you get some proper rest.”

“I know better than that,” Sawyer muttered under his breath. The only reason he was not being sent straight back to Sir Henry’s was because Twazul was on the hunt for him, pure and simple.

“That wasn’t a smart aleck reply to your father was it?” Allan demanded, his brow furrowing in mock displeasure. “I can just as easily pay these men to hold you until the rest of us finish with Twazul.”

His hazel eyes searching his mentor’s face to see if the threat was truly real, the young agent sighed in defeat. Allan would do just that if he thought it was the safest route. So he’d be the obedient son for now. A son? The meaning of that word caused Sawyer to shiver a bit. Was he actually someone’s son...not a nephew, brother, cousin, or friend?

“We best start on our ways,” Allan muttered, fussing with Tom’s borrowed coat when he saw the spy shiver. “This damp London weather could creep into your bones faster than the fog rolls in,” he explained to his protege. Clasping a hold of Skinner’s invisible shoulder, the hunter nodded once. “Take the others and go in the opposite direction for a few hours. Thomas and I will meet you at the park near Piccadilly Circus just inside the entrance after that time. Don’t let the others know anything if they do find you.”

“That won’t be easy,” Skinner frowned, imagining Mina threatening to tear him to shreds in frustration. “They’ll be worried.”

“Tell them the boy’s with me,” Allan replied confidently, “they don’t need any other explanations.”

The invisible rogue chuckled to himself. If Mina would be upset over the lack of information, Quatermain’s arrogance would send the vampire off the edge. Yet, he couldn’t imagine anyone else protecting the young agent as fiercely as the seasoned hunter. Sawyer was in the best hands, though his American teammate could more than handle his own...hurt or not.

Removing the remainder of his face paint, Rodney once more disappeared into the London night, his voice the only thing the rest of Barlow’s gang could follow. Quatermain and Tom headed in the opposite direction, following the leader to the secret hideout.

The hunter hovered near the younger man, but avoided contact, not wanting to arouse suspicion. He worried Tom would stumble and maybe even fall, but when he saw the look of determination on the spy’s face, his concerns eased.

When Barlow said he had a hideout, the gang leader wasn’t exaggerating. The group of men took several sharp turns, and ducked in a few alleys before they finally reached a dilapidated building. Even the entrance was well hidden from view, something Quatermain found himself thankful for...but also made him wary.

Normally he would just go inside, then deal with the consequences of his actions later if the situation arose, but there was no way in hell he was going to let Sawyer walk into a potentially dangerous situation without assessing everything pro and con.

Noticing the scrutinizing look the old man was giving the immediate surroundings, Barlow figured he’d better do some elaborating before the famous hunter decided to do something he and his men would regret. He too had heard of the exploits of Britain’s most celebrated native, and if Skinner said he was more than what those stories said...then he wouldn’t take any chances.

“This is the only visible entry,” Barlow said, “but there’s several escape routes inside.”

“Since we don’t know them,” Tom suddenly spoke up, “how about you hand over your weapons?” He too had been watchful, not fully trusting the gang. True, it was the saddest excuse of a kidnaping he had ever seen, but maybe they would get braver in their own territory.

“Hey now!” Barlow blustered. “I think we’ve been more than accommodating with you two!”

Quatermain and Sawyer exchanged a quick glance, one brow on each face raising with perfect unity. The younger man instantly turned left while the older turned right, deftly disarming the three men without much trouble.

“W-whah was all that for?” Skinner’s cousin Edgar cried out, surprised and angry that he had been so readily handled by someone younger than him.

Sawyer gave a lopsided grin and shrugged. “Sorry, but you don’t expect us to fully trust you, do you?” He waved his newly acquired pistol behind him. “I’ll go in first, then Daddy. You guys can follow when we say you can, and then you’ll show us the rest of your cache of weapons. Y’know, a good show of faith.”

Barlow turned a pair of angry eyes towards Quatermain, but held his voice even. “Cheeky lil’ nipper you got there,” he muttered.

As if pondering the thug’s words, Allan frowned in Sawyer’s direction. “Yes he is. I think I might have to have a little chat with my boy about that.” Turning hard eyes briefly back to Barlow, the hunter then followed after Tom who had just entered inside the building.

Before motioning to Barlow and his two gang members to follow them inside, Quatermain grabbed a hold of Sawyer’s left shoulder, pulling him back. Placing his mouth near the spy’s ear, Allan spoke in a low voice so no one else could hear.

“Call me Father, Dad, bloody hell...even Pa, but do not ever call me Daddy again, or I will box your ears till you scream in a pitch only a professional opera singer can reach naturally.”

Staring straight ahead, Sawyer’s eyes grew wider. “Really?”

“Really.”

“So how is ‘Dad’?” the young American asked cautiously in a whisper.

“I’m just fine, thank you, son,” the adventurer quipped, returning the grin Tom turned around to give him. “Now go on, and find some sort of light in this bloody place. I’ll keep an eye on your abductors.”

‘Now who’s being cheeky?’ Sawyer thought to himself as he slowly inched further into the long hallway. Feeling along the walls, the spy felt several doors as he continued on, wondering if there was a main room at the end of this passageway. Suddenly the walls ended, and Tom was grasping air.

“Be nice to know where a lamp was,” the blonde agent muttered under his breath as he crept further inside. He turned and looked back through the passageway, seeing Allan’s larger than life figure illuminated by the moonlight, still standing guard at the door way. So far so good. Taking a few more steps, Tom gasped in alarm as his ears picked up the faint sound of breathing seconds before the room became instantly brighter. Adjusting his eyes to the onslaught of light, he aimed his gun for the kill out of training and instinct.

“Must you be so over dramatic in everything?” a bored voice said from the beside the glaring lamps.

The gun lowered. “How?” It was the only word Sawyer could think of as he stared at the figure before him.

Dorian Gray smirked. “Twazul is like any other fool who thinks he can take over the world,” the immortal replied with a shrug. “Just have to get inside their mind, that’s all.”

“I didn’t believe him at first,” Dr. Jekyll echoed from a corner of a room.

“Are you all here?” Tom asked.

“Yes,” Mina said with a smile as she walked over from another section.

“We would not let you face this alone,” Nemo said gravely, placing a hand upon the startled spy’s shoulder.

Knowing what the others were risking to be there with him, the American spy gave them a shy smile, dipping his head once. “Thanks,” he spoke softly.

“Finding you well is thanks enough for me,” Nemo smiled back.

“Not getting yourself killed will suffice for me,” Dorian growled towards Sawyer’s direction. “Good thing we found you before you really did something ignorant.”

Watching Tom’s eyes narrow in irritation and probably pain, Mina quickly interceded. “Stop acting like that, Dorian. After all, it was you who stirred us into action by reminding us that we should stick by each other when one of us is in danger.”

“I never said that!” Gray protested.

The half-vampire rolled her ice blue eyes. “It was implied.”

“The hell it was,” the aristocrat replied without the usual bite.

Allan’s anxiety grew as he stood watch in the doorway, his thoughts straying to a thousand possible explanations as to why Tom hadn’t signaled him and the others to come in yet. The majority were not pleasant, causing his worry to skyrocket. There was light coming from the center of the building, that was sure enough, but he didn’t see the blonde mop of hair of his surrogate son.

Something wasn’t right. Waving for the men behind him to come along, Quatermain hurried down the hallway as quietly as he could, just in case there was an unwelcome surprise awaiting him on the other end.

Half expecting to find Sawyer in a dire situation, the adventurer’s mouth fell open as he looked around at the group of familiar faces. How did they get here? How could they know?

“Hey now!” Barlow sputtered in disbelief. “Where in hell did all they come from?”

“You must be the Barlow gang,” the handsome immortal said with disdain. “When you wish to have a secret hideout...it does help to make sure it’s kept secret.”

“They’re friends of ours,” Tom explained to the shocked men, throwing a warning glance in the aristocrat’s direction. They didn’t need Gray’s big mouth muddying the truce they had with the gang.

“You surely don’t include me in that list,” Gray hissed.

Sawyer smirked. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t includin’ you.”

Dorian sighed in relief. “Good, I was worried there for a minute.”

“Mr. Grey figured it out,” Nemo supplied. “He used some of his underworld contacts to find out if Twazul has been enlisting the help of any of the locals.”

Twirling his sword cane between his fingers in obvious pride of his accomplishment, Dorian gave the League’s leader a smug smile. “Surprised to find you here, I was expecting a hostage situation.”

“Not hardly,” Sawyer muttered under his breath.

“I overheard Twazul calling his contact, and turns out Skinner knows them,” Allan boasted, “I broke free of the mind control and escaped, so I stopped any possible kidnaping.”

“And you even managed to find the time to change your attire, and make new friends along the way” Gray said dryly, pointing to his teammates’ new pieces of clothing. “Neither do a thing for you.”

“They kept us inconspicuous,” Sawyer defended his mentor’s plan, seeing Allan silently fuming in the corner of his eye. All that planning was now shot to hell.

“Yes, and then you willingly followed the gang hired to kidnap you right to their secret hideout,” the vain aristocrat scoffed. “I, on the other hand, figured out that Twazul would have planned an ambush, thus using my brain to find the most likely suspects and then find their den.” The brown eyes turned on Quatermain with a cruel cockiness. “Senility finally taking hold, old man? How could you have allowed this almost unfortunate slip-up?”

Allan bristled at the accusation. “I knew exactly what I was doing! The lad was never in danger!”

Hearing the two men argue over his welfare made the young agent smile to himself. Guess his own role of staying out of the villain’s clutches didn’t mean much. “Should someone get Skinner?” Tom intervened, “since we did send him off in the other direction.”

“I’ll get him,” Skinner’s cousin, Edgar offered.

“Who are you?” Gray asked with a tinge of disgust.

“He’s Skinner’s cousin,” Allan told the immortal, “and you’re going with him.”

“I am not.”

“We’ll need your amazing mental facilities to find Skinner and the others,” Quatermain mocked. “My mind is somewhat hazy....”

Rising from his seat in indignation, Gray pointed in Sawyer’s direction. “Go, and leave him with you? Obviously allowing another attempt at the little hellion’s person? Do I need to remind you that my future is linked- ”

“Now who’s bein’ a complete ignorant ass?” Tom said, throwing his hazel eyes towards Barlow and his two cronies who were soaking in the immortal’s words. “You gonna tell ‘em how often you pluck your eyebrows too?”

Dorian seethed as a smattering of laughter echoed from the gang. Granted, he knew the American made the remark to stop him from divulging his forced connection to Sawyer, but it still galled him that the perky whelp got one over on him.

Controlling his anger, Gray pulled on the lapel of his plum colored suit and conceded for the moment. “Fine. I’ll travel with this miscreant.” Strolling over to Sawyer, the immortal grumbled, “And try not to get yourself killed while I’m away.”

“He’ll be too busy resting,” Quatermain growled back, his figure rising over Gray’s smaller frame. How he wanted to beat the immortal into a bloody mess for screwing up his plans. He could only hope and pray none of the contacts his teammates talked to alerted Twazul. Tom couldn’t go on much longer without some sleep.

“Ha,” Dorian huffed as he began to leave the room, “even that won’t keep him from getting into trouble.”

“Bye, Dorian,” Tom called out in parting, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Turning back to the group of people in the main room, the spy shrugged his shoulders. “What now?” he asked, doing his best to appear totally focused. “How ‘bout we gather all the ammo this place has, check out the exits, then think up some sort of battle plan when we meet up with Twazul.”

“We will,” Allan agreed, “but you’re going to get some sleep.”

Giving a small grunt of irritation, Sawyer mirrored the determined look Quatermain was sending him. “We can’t wait around for that!”

“We won’t be waiting. You’ll rest, and the rest of us will talk.”

“If I’m sleepin’, I won’t know what’s goin’ on,” Tom argued. “You can’t have me backin’ you all up if I don’t know anythin’.”

“Hm-m-m...that is true,” the hunter pretended to ponder, “but it’s also true that you won’t be much of a help if you’ve fallen into an unconscious heap.”

“That’s not goin’ to happen....”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Tom,” Jekyll disagreed, walking behind the younger man. Hearing an involuntary hiss of pain from Sawyer when he probed the area of the wound, the doctor shook his head. “You have done nothing to bring the swelling down, nor taken the proper rest needed. Ignoring the wound will only cause the pain to increase.”

Allan placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Do it for me, son if you won’t do it for yourself. The more you try to mask the pain, the more it takes from your ability to think and react.”

“Twazul could harm you...the others,” the agent spoke fervently. “I won’t allow that to happen!”

“And you not at your best could endanger us as well.” Quatermain briefly regretted his wording when he saw the anguished look Tom gave him, but the lad had to see the truth. This time the adventurer put both hands on the spy’s shoulders, trying to soften the blow a bit. “I know I’ll be too busy worrying about you, and I think it’s safe to say the others will be as well. None of us will be in any condition to stop Twazul.”

“And I’ll be too busy worrin’ ‘bout you to sleep,” Sawyer added quietly, lowering his head a little. He knew what Allan said was true, but he couldn’t help how he felt. Majeel had placed the blessing upon him for a reason, and it wasn’t to only protect him in an effort to ease their leader’s worry.

“You can rest easy. We’re not going anywhere.” Quatermain had to grin a bit at the astonished look his surrogate son gave him. “What? Did you think we were going to leave you behind?”

“Well...yeah.”

Motioning for Barlow to come over, the hunter pointed to several doors in the area. “Is one of these rooms fit enough for my son to rest in?”

The other League members exchanged glances. Did he just call Sawyer his son?

“We had one specially made for him,” Barlow answered quickly, but then rethought his response. “Well...it is a bit drastic....” He eyed Tom hesitantly. “But it is the only room with a proper bed, Gov’nor. Like I told you before, we were going to treat your boy proper, just remember that.”

Scowling, Quatermain urged the American spy onward with a gentle shove to his back. “Let’s have a look then.”

As the door opened, the adventurer could barely contain his rage when he saw the so called bed. It was a good sized four poster bed, but a set of manacles were welded to the middle bars of the frame, a stark reminder of the room’s true purpose; a prison. The captive would have a bit of movement, yet would not be able to fully leave the confines of the bed.

Feeling Quatermain faintly squeezing the back of his shoulder, Tom glanced up at his mentor and gave a cocky grin. “I would have gotten out of them easy,” he assured the older man in a whisper.

The comment easing his discomfort, Allan nodded. “Let’s be rid of that coat and get you settled.” He made a motion to remove the agent’s coat, but Tom pulled away.

“I’m a big boy, Dad. I can get myself ready for bed.” Sawyer frowned slightly, and peeked past the explorer toward’s Barlow’s direction. For crying out loud...not in front of the main thug!

Allan chuckled inside at his gaff. He had forgotten the universal rule about not appearing too paternal in front of peers, or in this case, a potential kidnapper. It felt damn good to be thought of that way again. A wicked idea formed as he struck a contrite pose; he’d get the last laugh for all that ‘daddy’ business.

“Sorry, son. I guess all this business with Twazul has made me forget that you’re quite lethal in your own right.” His next words were heavy with imposed guilt. “Forgive your father for getting carried away with all that bothersome protection. All I can see is my boy needing me.”

“Dad...” The American agent drug the word out slowly. That was a dirty shot! Quickly shedding the borrowed coat, Sawyer plopped down on the edge of the bed, refusing to look up at the smug look he knew Quatermain would be wearing.

“We’ll handle things from here, Barlow,” Allan addressed the gang leader in a dismissive manner.

“Uhm, sure, gov’nor,” the man mumbled, shaking his head as he exited the room. Those two were a strange lot.

Once alone, Quatermain winked at the irritated agent. “I couldn’t help myself,” he confessed without any remorse.

Tom grinned. “So I noticed.” Rifling through his various pockets, the blonde spy took out several knives and a pistol, placing them on the floor within reach. Bouncing on the mattress, he gave a low whistle. “This is pretty nice. Barlow wasn’t lyin’ ‘bout treatin’ me good.”

“Then you’ll get a proper rest. Now lie down.” Seeing the blonde spy hesitating, the hunter sighed. “The sooner you sleep, the sooner we’ll go after Twazul.”

“You’re bein’ straight with me ‘bout takin' me along?” The youngest League member inched himself further down on the mattress, refusing to place his head on the pillow just yet.

“I’ll be honest, lad. There’s two sides warring inside me on this.” Allan grabbed hold of a blanket at the end of the bed frame, and offered it to Sawyer. “The father side of me doesn’t want to place you in any risk, but the realist side knows you’re an equal part of this team, and very capable of caring for yourself. I have to respect that.”

Flipping the blanket over himself, Tom finally put his head upon the goose down pillows. The plushness of the mattress and the warmth of the woolen covering caused a small yawn to escape. “So I win either way, huh?” he commented sleepily.

“And don’t you know it,” the adventurer said in paternal affection, pulling the blanket up higher over the young man’s shoulders. “I’ll come wake you in a few hours.”

Closing his eyes, Sawyer barely heard his mentor’s footsteps leave the room, his much needed rest coming over him like a consuming wave. This time he wasn’t going to fight the tide.

A tugging motion pulled Sawyer from sleep, making his head wound scream in protest. Eyes still closed, the American agent didn’t struggle when he felt his arms going upward. What was Allan doing? A simple shoulder shaking would have done the trick. Tom’s mind drifted from the reasoning, his body wanting more rest to drown out the unmerciful throbbing of his skull.

A loud click echoed in the room, followed by a rapid succession of another. The sensation of cold metal against his wrists forced Sawyer’s groggy facilities into clarity. No! Quatermain had said....

About to protest, the hazel eyes opened wide in horror as his words were cut off by a gag being tied around his mouth. An unfamiliar face loomed above him, a mocking leer on the thin lips while he waved the gun Sawyer had placed on the floor.

“Sorry about the rude awakening, pet,” the man said with a haughty laugh. “Didn’t spoil any sweet dreams did I?”

“Yeah, buddy...laugh it up. Once I get free, I’m gonna wipe that smile off your face!” Tom thought as he scowled up at his attacker. His thoughts strayed beyond the room, wondering what could have happened to allow this creep to sneak in. Where was Allan, and the others?

Sawyer’s question became answered seconds later as he looked towards the open doorway of his make-shift prison. Twazul’s tall figure almost took up the entire space, the dark features aglow in victory.

Strolling confidently to the bed, the mystic reached down and lifted his captive’s chin upward, enjoying the anger flashing through the brilliantly colored eyes. “I must applaud you and your friends for your determination, despite the overwhelming odds of loss. And you have lost, little one.”

Tom made a lunging motion at Twazul, but the African deftly sidestepped the restricted attempt. The smile was cold and cruel as the man looked down at his pawn. Now that this troublesome wild card was handled, he could finish his plans.

First, he would have a bit of fun with his newly acquired puppets.