Sanctuary:
(1911 A.D., The Kinder Beschützer Institute, Pocket-Dimension located off the western coast of England)
The room appeared to have no walls, and yet the floor and ceiling extended out in all directions before fading into invisibility.
"Where are we?" asks Mr. Darling as he, his family and the Lost Boys all prod the ground, making sure they won't fall through before stepping out of the cars.
"Pact of Adam London Head Office," answers the blonde woman in a heavy French accent. "My name is Jeanne d'Arc. Everyone knows me as Agent Joan," explains Agent Joan as she makes her way over to Mrs. Darling. She reaches out and shakes Mrs. Darling's hand firmly.
Mrs. Darling's eyebrows jump, "Any relation to 'the' Joan of Arc?"
"That's me," replies Joan with an amused smirk.
The look Joan gives Mrs. Darling makes her blush. Breaking away, Joan goes straight toward Mulan, who is now making her way over to the group. Joan grabs her around the waist and pulls her into a lustful, passionate kiss. Mrs. Darling and Wendy avert their eyes. The kiss goes on unnoticed by anyone else.
Sherlock lights his pipe. Squinting through the puffs of smoke he asks, "Is Watson alive?"
Vincent, who was busy making commands into his comm device, darts his eyes around the group, suddenly afraid. The Lost Boys and Michael begin looking under seat cushions, calling for Watson. Mulan disengages from Joan and walks stone-faced to one of the armouries and opens it.
"He's fine. The fool jumped off the car," answers Mulan as she retrieves a new crossbow identical to the one she lost.
Mulan returns to the group as Vincent begins formal introductions. Mr. and Mrs. Darling, this is Agent Mulan, and this is her partner, Agent Joan. Agent Joan, Agent Mulan, this is Mr. Darling, Mrs. Darling and their three children, Wendy, John, and Michael."
John waves from his position by the car, trying to soothe Nana. He finally coaxes Nana out of the car where she had been trembling as Slightly walks over and hugs him playfully from behind.
"Wait... shouldn't we go back for him?" asks John, stepping out of Slightly's embrace and walking back over to the group with Nana and Slightly following close behind.
Everyone turns to look at him. John pulls his shoulders back and stands as tall as he can. Nana sits next to him and for a moment he feels like a king. But when he meets eyes with the others in the room, this group of super-powered spies, he realises he is still just a dumb boy and lets his chin drop.
"I mean, he is one of your friends, right?" continues John. Sherlock grins enigmatically.
Vincent goes back to his device and speaks something into it.
"There, I sent him a message, telling him to meet us at the institute. However, we don't have time to wait for him right now," says Vincent as he turns to stare back at John reassuringly.
"Who was that man who attacked us?" asks Mrs. Darling.
The Lost Boys run over to their wounded and unconscious comrade, Tootles, as Joan lifts him out of the car and places him into some sort of enclosed metallic stretcher. He looks so different to them hooked up to the unknown medical machine beyond their understanding.
"We can discuss that while en route to the Institute. Come on, it still might not be safe... even here," replies Vincent.
"Ah, there is our ride," announces Sherlock walking between a short bookcase and the fireplace out into the open air as a large metallic vehicle appears hovering off the edge of the building in front of him.
A door in the rear of the vehicle slides open and a ramp extends down to the ethereal wood flooring.
"Come on, don't dawdle. Hurry up, hurry up. We don't have all day," says Sherlock, gesturing for everyone to get on board.
Once everyone is onboard and settled, Vincent leans forward to the pilot. "The Institute please."
******
Illuminated in the warm orange glow of a fireplace stands the Woodsman, head lowered in shame. His failure afflicts him like a sickness. In this room, he has trouble breathing. He feels the years in his bones, although he isn't sure he still has bones. In reality, he knows it is Them. Their presence, the sheer force of their power crashing down upon him. Their gaze falls upon him like an avalanche from their looming shadowed pedestals. Masked by a veil of darkness, their true forms are undecipherable. Emotion pours from them, making his head swirl. In this place, his vision pixelates and he feels as if he can fall through the floor and be swallowed at any moment. The Woodsman does not speak. Despite all his power, silence is all he can do to maintain his composure in their presence. At last, a voice like the crackle of a raging fire fills his mind.
"Your failure is deeply disappointing, Woodsman, an abysmal performance to witness," declares the voice.
Another voice, less like speaking and more like the shuddering of the world, continues without pause, "But we are not without mercy. You have one more chance to fulfil your mission…"
"Your target has been taken to a more secure location. Therefore, we are assigning another agent to help you in this attack," proclaims a third voice, like a river through an underground cave, taking over where the second voice left off.
A foppishly dressed gentleman steps into the firelight as though he had just gotten up from a nearby armchair. Had that chair been there when I arrived? The Woodsman struggles to remember. The gentleman places a fresh cigarette into a long, tapered holder as he leans in close to the Woodsman before lighting the cigarette with the nearby fireplace.
"This is Dorian Gray, he will be helping you on this mission, Woodsman," proclaims the first of the three voices.
"Your reputation precedes you, Woodsman, it is indeed an honour to finally meet you," Dorian bows ostentatiously, flourishing with his cigarette.
"Yes, I am sure," counters the Woodsman, barely containing his indignation at the man's current invasive physical closeness.
"Remember, Woodsman, this is your last chance," booms all three voices in unison.
The indignation remains as the shadows deepen and the room that may not have ever truly existed is pulled away. The walls recede in an instant, just as the streets of London had at the end of his chase. No rest for the wicked echoes through the Woodman's mind like an assaulting mantra reflecting the inner nature of his twisted fate. It is these moments in the dark grasp of his masters that remind him he is a slave and, it is only in these fleeting moments, suspended between everywhere and nowhere, that he is free.
He knows that when he emerges from this nowhere place, any amount of time may have passed. At the whim of his task-masters, he may be returned to the world with only minutes having passed, or it may be decades, centuries. For him, it always feels like mere seconds. In these moments he tries to force himself to think in order to keep from losing himself more and more.
This time he thinks of sleep. What was it like to sleep? Was it a darkness like this one? A swallowing thing? I don't think so. There were dreams sometimes. Visions of different worlds. When it was darkness, it was not an empty darkness. No, not like this one where if I stepped too far I would fall and never stop falling. No. It was something else, a convalescence, a placing of things into piles. Yes, a time to gather oneself. Yes... no, no, no. Not yet. Please, not yet.
Light returns warmth to soul and mind as the Woodsman feels the cushion of sand under-boot as his thoughts go silent and his mind sharpens.
*******
Within minutes, the muffled drone of the jet engine drains the excitement of the day from John, Michael, and the Lost Boys. To everyone's relief, though Tootles was seriously injured, the device in which Joan placed him and the mysterious injection she gave him seemed to stabilise him. The Lost Boys lie sprawled out in a heap in the back of the craft, snoring softly except Slightly and John who are cuddled up together away from the others. The boys sleep peacefully in each other's arms.
Wendy and her parents are strung tight as piano wire, their minds buzzing with nervous disbelief at everything around them. Mr. Darling hunches close to Sherlock, asking endless questions. The detective, despite his initial reaction, decides it best to indulge the poor man and expound upon each subject at length, barely listening to what comes out of his own mouth. Mrs. Darling chews her thumbnail going over the past hour, then the past couple of days, then the last few weeks, ending up back in the present and still not knowing what to do. Wendy does the only thing she can think to do… look out the window.
At first, she does so to avoid Vincent, but he remains locked into various conversations with his strange silver device, so she relaxes and allows herself to just look for the sake of looking. London fades into the distance and then is gone. Rolling green countryside streams by, covered in patches of lingering snow. Wave battered rocky coasts surge by and then are gone as well.
The vessel is strange to Wendy. She knows they are moving with great speed and yet she does not feel it, no shaking, no nothing. The water beneath them shifts, grey-blue white caps smoothing almost immediately into bright sky blue tropical waters. The jet slows and descends. Wendy presses her face even more to the window in order to see what they are coming up to, but she cannot get the right angle.
Soon enough she can see sand dunes spotted with patches of long grass stretching away from the waters, gradually giving way to crabgrass meadows. Here and there she sees exercise equipment planted in the organised circles of sand. Dense trees appear before giving way to a wide circular courtyard. The jet slowly descends into the heart of the courtyard. It rotates and then Wendy sees it. Her window now faces a massive, beautifully ornate manor.
The Institute's brilliant white facade is lined with Palladian windows. An octagonal cupola topped with a caduceus protruding from the roof of the west wing gives the building an attractive asymmetry. Vegetable gardens fan out from the east, keeping a practical distance from the treeline. The west gardens are decorative with manicured rows of flowers separated by gravel paths and fountains.
The landing wakes Nana, who nudges the boys and licks their faces. The vehicle's door slides open and everyone files out of the jet and then down the central promenade towards the manor. Something about this place feels different to the newcomers. To The Lost Boys, it feels like they are back in Neverland, back home. They sprint between columns of roses and leap onto the various lion statues that adorn the nearby grounds. Except Slightly, who checks up on Tootles once more just as Joan rushes over and proceeds to transport Tootles into the manor. Vincent remains to take care of the rest of the group. The Darlings feel like they have cinnamon under their skin; the sensation is subtle and pleasant but alien enough that they struggle slightly to enjoy it. Vincent swings open the doors of the manor, revealing a gigantic entry hall as Mulan ushers everyone inside.
"Welcome to The Institute, your new home away from home. Vincent can guide you all from here. As for myself, I shall go retrieve Watson," declares Sherlock before excusing himself and disappearing back out the front door.
"Right this way please," replies Vincent, nodding as he proceeds to guide the group onward down the immaculate ornate halls of the institute.
"What do you think, Mr. Darling? Not the worst place in the world for your family to seek sanctuary, is it?" remarks Vincent, noticing the looks of amazement on their guest's faces.
"Agreed. This place is spectacular," replies Mr. Darling, captivated by the breathtaking beauty around him.
"Your family should be safe here at the KBI. This place is magically protected from detection by the outside world," explains Joan returning to the group.
"Agent Vincent in light of the attack you have been ordered to take our guests to the medical wing in order to get everyone checked out. Better safe than sorry and all that," explains Joan. Vincent nods in agreement.
"Who are they?" asks Mrs. Darling in regards to the many strange soldiers dressed in fine uniforms and bearing silver firearms and sabres that stand nearby guarding the various doors lining the hall.
"They are soldiers from the Verunian Enclave. The Verunian Enclave is a secret global kingdom created by our own Captain Nemo. They build their cities beneath the oceans of the world and act as both the logistic and global enforcement arm of the Pact of Adam. Whereas we here at the KBI act as the Research and Special Operations arm of the Pact of Adam," explains Joan while shooting Mrs. Darling a warm yet subtly suggestive smile.
"It can be a lot to take in, I know," says Vincent with an amused tone. The group finally reaches a large set of thick heavy doors made from some sort of hyper-sturdy frosted semi-transparent plastic.
"Hold here for a second, please," instructs Vincent as he goes over to a keypad on the side of the door and inputs the password causing the doors to open. He gestures welcomingly for the group to step into the brightly lit med bay.
Every surface in the room was a sparkling-clean white. Medical beds line one side of the room and lots of advanced-looking computers and lab equipment line the other sides of the room. Working hard at one of the computers was what looked to Wendy like a slender woman with thick brown hair wearing a lab coat. To Wendy's surprise, she notices that sticking out from the bottom of the women's lab coat was the long thin tail of a monkey.
Vincent clears his throat to garner her attention.
"Umm excuse me, Dr. Oksana, we have some guests who require a full examination immediately."
Dr. Oksana turns her attention to the group. Her gaze entangles with Wendy's. Wendy is both stunned and entranced by the odd beauty of Oksana's face; a face that is on par with the most beautiful female model and yet possesses subtle but distinct hints of a more monkey-like facial structure, especially in the cheekbones and jawline. Oksana's eyes were narrow yet they shined with a brilliant lavender gleam unlike any Wendy had ever seen.
"Right. We are going to go check with the Culinary Staff to see what they are preparing for dinner and ask when it will be ready. So we must say goodbye for now, but we leave you all in the hands of our very very capable Dr. Oksana Vellengrad. She is a true master of many sciences, and medicine is her specialty." With that said, Vincent leaves the med bay with Joan.
Oksana climbs from her chair and walks over to the rest of the group, carrying some sort of medical scanner in one hand and a small silver case in the other.
"Alright everyone, as exciting as it is to meet you all, I still have a vast amount of work to do around here, so I would like to get through all this as quickly and as smoothly as possible. I'm just going to give all of you a quick but thorough scan to check for any external or internal injuries, okay?" explains Oksana in an obvious Russian accent. "Let's start with children first. So if you could all please line up over there, single file, I will call you each forward one at a time and administer your scan."
"Wendy Darling."
Wendy steps forward as she is bidded and sits on one of the medical beds next to where Oksana is standing.
"I heard about your run-in with the Woodsman. I am very sorry you and your family are having to experience this. I have tangled with him before and it was by no means pleasant. But together with my friends and courage, there was victory. I know times like this can be truly terrifying and there is no shame in being scared, but please try your best to relax and enjoy yourself. Everyone here is committed one hundred percent to keeping all of you safe."
Oksana smiles at Wendy encouragingly as she finishes scanning her.
"Thank you," replies Wendy, feeling a bit better about the situation but only a bit.
"You're welcome and remember it is going to be okay," Wendy nods before making her way over to the door to wait for the others to finish getting their scans.
"Alright, Michael Darling." declares Oksana as Michael steps forth and sits where Wendy had just sat.
Oksana begins scanning Michael. She notices that Michael can not stop staring at her tail, causing her to let out a slight giggle.
"Is there something wrong, child?"
"No… no, it's just, well not to be rude, but where are you from, miss? I mean... What are you?"
"I was born in a parallel version of the land you call Russia and as for what I am? What I am is complicated and a very long story, but I suppose the short version is I was born human, like you, but when I was young I was put through an experiment that altered my DNA turning me into... well, something else."
"DNA?" asks Michael, looking deeply puzzled.
"DNA is like a tiny blueprint contained in every cell of your body. DNA tells your cells what it is to be human. It is the very blueprint of your being," explains Oksana. "Congratulations. You're fine, and it was very nice to meet you. Now please go join your sister over by the door." Oksana smiles at Michael cheerfully as she gestures for him to go join his sister.
Michael smiles back, blushing slightly before making his way over to Wendy as he was instructed.
After about a half-hour or so, Oksana finally finishes scanning the last person in the group. Waiting outside the door of the med bay is Vincent who proceeds to guide the party to their next destination.
"How was your time with our fine doctor?"
"She is well… umm… interesting you could say," responds Mrs. Darling, thinking back to the long monkey tail and various other subtle monkey-like features that Oksana possesses.
"She is that indeed," chuckles Vincent as he leads the group into an amazingly beautiful yet cosy parlour of sorts.