Free The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen by Kevin J. Anderson

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