2004_ _The_League_of_Extraordinary

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drawn back.
Just then, with a fierce yell, the young imposter turned his modified Winchester on his fellow
marksmen. He blasted away, killing two of the unsuspecting henchmen, then dove for shelter.
The Fantom wheeled, surprised.
Everything happened in an instant. All the members of the League had tensed, looking for any last-
chance opportunity, and they flew into action. Nemo and Mina leaped for cover.
Quatermain launched himself at the nearest library ladder, grabbing the rungs and running. He shoved it
along its rail, smashing the marksmen's protruding rifles aside as it went. Several weapons, wrenched
free, tumbled to the library floor.
The marksmen on the other side of the library did not hesitate to fire, though. Gunshots blasted out like
a dozen firing squads, and the air filled with bullets. Dorian Grays paintings, lamps, and ornaments
shredded or shattered. With muffled thuds, dozens of books exploded; some tumbled off the shelves, as
if trying to escape the fusillade. Paper fragments filled the air with a parchment blizzard.
The dapper Dorian Gray, looking incongruously elegant in his purple smoking jacket, staggered and
jittered from multiple impacts. His body was riddled with bulletholes, and his face wore an expression
of surprised displeasure.
"Dorian!" Mina struggled to run to him, but Captain Nemo snagged her and pulled her behind a pillar. A
bullet struck the pillar, sending a spray of wood splinters near their faces.
With a sharp yelp, Skinner ran the opposite direction. He tossed the full glass of Scotch onto his white-
painted face, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily; the alcohol dissolved his makeup coating, making it
easier for him to wipe away with a piece of cloth, and by the time he had thrown off his coat, the
invisible man had completely vanished.
After reloading his Winchester, the young imposter advanced on the other marksmen, opening fire
again. He cocked the customized weapon one-handed while yanking the bothersome handkerchief from
his face. Then he blasted again. But, to his disbelief, his shots ricocheted off the Fantom's marksmen.
These were wearing body armor, much like the assassins who had attacked Quatermain at the Britannia
Club.
With remarkable strength and determination, Mina Harker struggled free of Nemo's grip. She took an
urgent step away from the shelter of their hiding place and gasped in a new sort of shock at what she
saw: Gray stood in front of the fireplace, still on his feet and apparently unhurt. He snatched up a long
cane resting beside the fireplace implements and pulled away its covering to reveal a thin, wickedly
sharp sword. He stormed into the fray, showing no evidence of wounds, despite all the bullets that had
struck him.
At this sudden turn of events, the Fantom turned and sprinted for the staircase that would take him to
the house's exit and the street.
"Not one for a bit of a fight, are you, Fantom?" Quatermain called after the masked villain. In a blurred
sequence of movement, he retrieved his revolver from where his opponent had kicked it, cocked the
hammer, aimed, and fired. His shot passed directly through the bookcase, striking the Fantom squarely
in the right shoulder. But the impact only spun him around. He hit a column, caromed off, and kept
running, though in the opposite direction now. His black overcoat was torn, but no blood oozed from the
wound.
"Damned body armor," Quatermain mutterered, then ran after him, heedless of the danger. As he
zigzagged through the lethal gauntlet, he passed Dorian Gray coming the other way, furiously slashing
right and left with his cane-sword.
From above, the mysterious young marksman covered Quatermains' pursuit, using his Winchester to
pick enemy shooters from their high perches around the library.
Upon seeing Quatermains' insane act of bravery in charging after the Fantom, Captain Nemo stepped
out of the shadows himself. He glared at one of the enemy henchmen and rushed toward him.
"No gun, darkie?" said one of the marksmen. "What's the matter?"
Nemo turned with slow poise, gathering his concentration and his energy. His voluminous black beard
bristled as he smiled. A group of marksmen had drawn a bead on him, considering the unarmed captain
an easy target. "No gun. I walk a different path."
Before they could open fire, Nemo exploded into astonishing action, using his entire body as a weapon.
He became a blur of limbs, landing crushing blows with his hands, elbows, knees, and booted feet. His
spinning kicks carried a lethal force against which body armor was no use. Caught in the hurricane of
martial arts destruction, enemy marksmen fell and scattered like ninepins.
The Fantom reached a rickety stairway and scrambled up it with Quatermain in hot pursuit. Though
panting, the old adventurer seemed intent on not letting his enemy escape. Hand over hand, clutching
the rail, the Fantom climbed higher until the stairs ended abruptly against a trapdoor.
His gloved hand grabbed at the handle of the trapdoor, but it was locked. Taking little pleasure but great
satisfaction, Quatermain charged forward and was almost upon him
When the Fantom's Lieutenant Dante dropped from nowhere and slammed into him. Quatermain
staggered, losing his balance.
"Run, James!" Dante shouted.
The Fantom smashed at the trapdoor with his armored shoulder, broke it open, and hauled himself up to
the next floor.
Recovering himself, Quatermam slammed a heavy fist into Dante's chin, and the lieutenant reciprocated
with punches of his own. Finally, the old hunter, impatient to be after his true quarry, delivered a
decisive head-butt, which sent Dante reeling. Quatermain shoved the other man aside and pushed
forward, silently cursing Dorian Gray. "Why does one man require such a ridiculously large house?"
Bested for now, Dante stumbled into the shadows.
From across the upper level of the library, the imposter marksman saw the Fantom about to escape. He
kicked an advancing marksman aside and clashed off to help Quatermain. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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