9 o'clock at night. The gas lamps flickered in the streets of Birmingham, the soft sound of a grammerphone playing a lighthearted ditty in the distance could faintly be heard. Several people were descending on the location, several people with extraordinary powers. The building in question was a little pub simply called "The Old Crown." A man with a top hat walked through and nodded to the barman, before walking into a room in the back, the room was Large, with a bookcase and piano, there were a pair of sofa's and a giant fireplace with a relatively small fire. The man sat down at the piano and his fingers began to flex before he began playing a light song. He awaited whilst curiosity lured the new heroes of the world like bee's to honey. The curiosity being the contents of a letter that each of them had received.










He waited for a familiar rapping on the chamber door, as Edgar Allen Poe had awaited a raven to do the same.

Her Royal Highness, Princess Leia of the United Kingdom, Duchess of Plymouth, sat in a room in her suite in Kensington Palace. As a Royal Princess (albeit an adopted one; this was not a secret and her true parentage was a source of much speculation) she was entitled to live there when in London. One had to pay for a suite of rooms in a palace somehow, and she did it through service to the Crown, as a diplomat. The petite Princess was often sent to visit other lands to intercede in something or other, and if the time for being pretty was gone she could fight her way out as well.

She was making her way through a mound of paperwork, over tea. The door knocked.

"Come in!"

A maid entered, ushering in a man, under guard. Leia raised an eloquent eyebrow.

"Sorry to bother you ma'am, but the gentleman was very insistent that this letter was to be delivered to you in person."

Leia didn't need to check the exits or that her guns were handy - that was second nature and already done. She put on her best diplomacy smile and said "It must be important then..." and put out a hand. The messenger gave her the note, and she read it with interest. She looked up to see if the messenger was still there, to find that he had been ushered out and she was alone again.

She thought to herself "It could be a plot, but then again, it might not. and made an excuse to visit her adoptive father the King to show him the note. His words echoed her own thoughts; "You'll have to go, if only to find out what's going on. Be careful." She nodded, and went off to get ready. A carriage was prepared - Her Royal Highness was to visit Warwick Castle for a time; a short holiday. Birmingham was not far. She would have time to slip away, and her coachman was used to such things - sometimes "diplomacy" was more like "espionage" - whatever it took to get the job done. The maids packed a few outfits and some hunting gear so that her two pistols would not arouse suspicion, and in a short time she was heading up Watling Street to the Midlands...

John sat in his broken down dive in Liverpool, the room smelt of damp and tobacco with nothing but a single candle to bath it in amber light. John sat cross legged in the center of the room all the furniture pushed to one side, in his calloused hands he held an envelope that had somehow found its way to his door in the night. Very few people knew where 'The Laughing Magician' was hiding and most of those people would do a lot worse to John if they caught him asleep than simply deliver a letter.

Tossing it from one hand to another John decided if he were going to be poisoned he might as well get it over with and tore open the top of the envelope turning his face away. When he saw the official letterhead for the 'Military Intelligence' branch of the government John's wooden pipe fell from his mouth with a light clunk. Crinkling his eyebrows he pulled the letter fully out of the envelope. Constantine was no longer the street-rat he used to be and had acquired a whole manner of skills in his life, one of which luckily for him was the ability to read.

Skimming the first line John stared at it for a moment "Well #%*& me, the coppers found me again." The man muttered in a surprisingly gruff scouse accent. John had been doing occasional jobs with various government agencies in an attempt to get on the good side of the law, the path he had taken often ended at the gallows.

It was true magic was an awfully beastly business, you could always follow John by the trail of dead friends and furious enemies he'd leave in his wake as he drifted from escapade to escapade.

Whoever this inspector was he knew how to find John and a man who had the tenacity to follow John's trail wasn't going to take no for an answer. It was a good few days until the 25th but then again he'd need the time to travel south to Birmingham.

Without packing a single item John hopped on the closest carriage he could find heading south, after all it was easy to trick the driver's minds into believing they had just been paid handsomely to escort a foreign dignitary to a summit.

After one day of travelling John found himself at 'The Old Crown' walking in he smiled knowingly, he loved a good pub. Deciding it best that he not order a pint before meeting with a secret government operative, John made his way to the door for the back room.

Raising a single hand he knocked a light rhythmic beat on the door. Awaiting an answer as he idly spun his pipe between his fingers.

Was it Wabbit Season.....or was it Duck Season? Elmer had no idea, he hadn't left his hut yet to see the signs.

Well it wasn't really a hut, it was more like a mansion, a mansion he stayed in, in the middle of the woods alone. Alone except for the men that worked there, making him dinner and cleaning out the house. Although whenever he got a good hunt, he would prepare it for cooking. Yesterday he had got a deer, he had then took it home and skinned it, before handing it over to his workers. He had nice vension last night, well his workers did. He had a nice plate of salad.

He sat in his workshop, cleaning out Dorothy. Sometimes she would get dirty if he accidentally dropped her on the ground. His maids or manservants would want to clean her, but when he cleaned her, he would upgrade her too. With all his money, he had many parts he could get a hold of, with that his hunting would be perfect. He was busy polishing her off with a clean white hankerchief. His gun was perfect.

"Sir?" A man shouted as he barged through the door, one of his waiters. He was balding, like Elmer had already done and held up an enevelope. "You have mail" The man walked up to Elmer who was concentrating on Dorothy and put the envelope down next to Dorothy on the table. Elmer turned and nodded as his waiter walked out the door and close it again. He actually grew up as a son of one of ELmer's fathers servants and now he was one of Elmer's. Elmer looked down at the envelope and took out his letter opening knife.

He read the letter. "Intewesting......Vewwy Intewesting...." Elmer said with a grin. "Edgesworth!" His manservant came rushing in, a grave look on his usually neutral face. "We've got a meeting in a week! Make sure the horses are weady for a twip we're gonna have!" Edgeworth nodded and went out the door again. Elmer glanced at Dororthy again before moving over to write out his workforce's paychecks.

1 Week Later

Elmer sat in his carriage as he listened to the wheels hitting the road beneath him. He was wearing his traditional hunting gear, and Dorothy was polished and shining in his gloved hands. The carriage came to a halt and he heard Edgeworth shout something. With a smirk, he leapt out of the carriage to find the pub before him. He waved to Edgewoth who was still by the carriage and entered the pub with Dorothy in his hands, sending nods to those around him.

Eventually he made it to the door he had been instructed to go to, to find another man was alweady there. "Hewwo?" He called out as he approached. "This is the meeting wight?"

Leia was lurking in the shadows, wearing a hooded cloak. She was prudently watching the doorway of the pub from a dark alley. A few interesting-looking types had gone in already, and all seemed quiet, so she followed. She walked into the pub. It seemed to be the kind of place where people didn't ask too many questions,. It wouldn't do to be drunk, but she wanted a drink, so she got some cloudy lemonade. After a moment's thought, she asked for some pork scratchings as well. A commoner's luxury she was quite partial to, that you didn't get in the Palace.

She saw a man go into the back room, clearly armed with some kind of steam shotgun. She paused for a moment and heard no shooting, so not an assassin. Another guest, such as herself. She let her curiosity get the better of her, and went into the back room with the others.

Sunday, 9:29 AM, Somewhere Outside Swansea, Wales

The morning sunlight flittered through the shutters of Booker's apartment and the sounds of the birds waking flooded past the narrow slits of the window shutters and through the window panes. However Booker woke up to the sound of knocking on the door, he raised his head slowly and parted his mouth loudly to release a noiseless yawn, as he smacked his lips he looked up to the clock on the table to his side and let out a frustrated groan, 'a minute before the alarm?' he thought to himself sitting up and stretching his arms. Booker slipped on his shirt and shuffled past the living room and towards the door, he clutched the handle and was about to push it when he impulsively reached towards the desk to his side and took his pistol from it's drawer. He creaked the door open to see a frog faced boy in a flat cap looking up at him with a big goofy smile.
"Telagram Mr Dewitt!" he said excitedly holding out an envelope, Booker took the letter from the child's hand awkwardly and watched him scamper across the hall to a door at the other end, "telegram Mr Dewitt" he said to the figure in the other door. As the words left the kid's mouth Booker's vision went fuzzy and a loud screeching noise filled his ears until the other door shut. Booker cursed under his breath, muttering words like 'head ache' and 'lunatic'.
Booker returned to his bed room where he chucked the letter onto his bed, favoring getting dressed befo-

RING RING RING!!!!!

He pounced on the clock like a snake would on a mouse and clutched it between his hands in a manacle like grip, banging it nonsenseicly it the wall, cracking it's glass and warping it's metal, turning the inside from an organized arty of clockwork into a rattley mess of gears. He kept smashing the infernal clock against the wall until the bell stopped, then he proceeded to chuck it into a pile of other smashed clocks in the corner. Booker exhaled in calmness and returned to the wardrobe where he selected the clothes he usually wore, his trousers and a suit vest and put them on. He went back towards his bed and sat down, picking up the letter and ripping it from it's papery container, after reading the letter he sighed.
"Booker don't do it."

CHOO CHOO!

"All aboard!"

Three weeks before the meeting, at the 'Sihirli Ağaç' cafe, somewhere on the European side of the river running through Istanbul, a large one-armed man wearing a floral shirt, straw hat, bermuda shorts, and a pair of reflective aviator shades sat, sipping authentic Indian tea and enjoying baclavas flavored with sweet Asian spices. This was, after all, the crossroads of the world, and had been for many centuries. However, with the advent of airships and the like, it would seem that things would perhaps change drastically for the trade industry here. These matters did not concern the one-armed man, however. He just liked to enjoy life, since he had endured many hardships to get to where he was today. He had traveled the world, seeking adventure every which way he went, but while many would tell him to retire at his age, he had no intention of doing anything of the sort. While the one-armed man may have looked like he was in the prime of his life, lazing about whilst sampling the local/international delicacies, he had actually been thinking about where to go next. He had been around America, Asia and Europe, both present and future, and he did not wish to return to Arabia, for fear of getting caught for a crime he committed many decades prior. The rest of the world would be interesting, but he did feel more at home in more developed urban environments. No, this one-armed man would perhaps want to try a different line of work rather than aimless wandering.

As if on cue, the waiter arrived with a note. "'Ey buddy, I didn't ask for the bill yet!" He said with a coarse future Los Angeles accent, one that might have been quite alien to the Turkish waiter.
"Eeeh, sorry, not understand Inglish good"
The one-armed man pushed down his aviators so that his eyes peered over the top of them and his gaze met the nervous waiter's.
"You don't speak English?! What the heck did I hire you f-"
He interrupted himself, noticing that what was on the waiter's tray was not the bill but actually a letter. Still staring at the waiter, he slowly took the letter, placed it on his lap, pulled out his wallet, and placed down three American dollars on the tray. He then dismissed the man with a wave and a casual slap on the butt as he turned around and walked away. No homo.

First, he attempted to cut the envelope by transforming his hand into a comically oversized swiss army knife, but when you don't have another hand to brace the letter with, this would be a more difficult task than anticipated. Instead, he opted to just turn his face into that of a piranha and gnaw at the envelope to create a clean incision, just as piranhas are very well known to do. Of course, other patrons at the cafe were shocked by this magical man, but he honestly did not care about keeping a low profile. This was probably the exact reason it was easy for this message to reach such an intrepid explorer as himself.

As he read it, the thought that sprang to mind was It has been a while since someone has called me 'Mister Genie.' I like it! He glossed over it some more, and upon realizing that this was the exact call to adventure he had been waiting for, he leapt out of his chair, transformed into a young scraggly little poor boy with one arm and yelled "I've got a Golden Ticket!! I've got a Golden Ticket!!" as he raced through the streets of Istanbul. Then he literally raced through the streets of Istanbul as he transformed into a Vespa and stowed away on the nearest ship to London. He couldn't be late to this meeting.

Three weeks later, at the Old Crown Pub in Birmingham, a large one-armed man in an anachronistic sleuth trenchcoat and trilby hat walked in, figuring his meeting was a thing of discretion, which he was not really an expert on. He did catch a few glimpses from the public when he was a one armed bicycle (So essentially a unicycle) moving on its own towards this pub in Birmingham. Nevertheless, he was here now, he had his now smudged and filthy note with him, and he moved towards the backroom, and rapped at the door three times whispering, "The rain in Spain falls mainly on the Plain."

Probably the secret message. Who knows?

The Inspector heard the door go and watched as his first contact arrived, he opened the door and he walked in. "Good Evening." he had never seen any of his contacts before, as he let the man enter the room, he quietly said "Go, go gadget Notebook." as he did so, a hand, on an extending arm shot from his jacket, he quickly flicked through the pages. "Constantine." he finished. "Please take a seat, the rest of our congregation should arrive soon." He walked towards a small cabinet and took out a pair of glasses, as well as a large glass bottle of Brandy. At that point, the door knocked again. "Go, go gadget Arm." he said, his arm appeared from his hat and extending across the room, opening the door to Elmer. "Ah, Mr Fudd, it is a pleasure to meet you." he called as his extending arm shook him firmly by the hand.

"I appreciate a man of your wealth and calibur taking the time out of his busy day to come here." he said. "May I offer you a drink?" As Mr Fudd entered the room, he noticed the princess attempt to slip in un-noticed with him. "Go go gadget Periscope." he mumbled. Out the top of Donovans hat, a periscope popped up so that he could look around the room. He saw her trying to keep out of the public eye, which was smart, considering that any one of these people may be one of Moriarty's spy's. So, pointing out that one of them would be an invaluable hostage, would be probably a bad move on his part. He pretended as though she was obviously one of Elmers attendants.

"The rain in Spain falls mainly on the Plain." said a voice through the door. After pouring the brandy, he left the glasses on the table before his hands retracted into him and he opened the door himself.

"Sir..." he looked the portly arabian man up and down. "Please come in." he soon said as he quickly deduced that this was the Genie. As everyone had arrived, bar the Spider-Man, the Vampire and the Watch-man. He decided to allow them to mingle whilst he observed from affar, the only person in the room he knew he could trust would be the princess. Moriarty had gathered a large amount of money, and for all he knew, Mr Fudd was one of the people supplying him with the wealth, the Arabian man was completely unknown to him, as was Mr Constantine. He slowly sidled towards Princess Leia. "I do apologize for not greeting you, your highness." he whispered to her. "I do believe it would be best that we did not draw attention to your presence."

Leia replied:

"I fully understand. I assume you do not yet have the full measure of these gentlemen?"

She leaned up against a wall, watching the others from her hood.

Upon being greeted, the Genie immediately cast off his trenchcoat to the corner of the room, where it poofed away in a wisp of blue smoke. As his trenchcoat came off, his hair became shiny, slicked back and blacker, and was solid to the point where the amount of hairspray that would've been used to achieve such a state would've almost caused the hairdo to become sentient. Almost. His body and face became more chiseled, with a very manly jawline, and a chin that was perhaps too large for his face. He still had one arm though. He wore a sparkling blue sequined jacket, and black pressed trousers along with shoes so polished, one could see their own face in them, and perhaps the faces of ancestors of the past. He held a microphone in his right hand, with his pinky stretched out.

"Heeey there! Thanks for inviting me to the show! I'm really glad to finally be here in person, mister..."

He leaned towards Elmer and whispered, "You know this guy's name?"

The Inspector heard the rapping at the door and walked to answer it. He remembered from the old legends, the idea that a Vampire could not enter unless invited. Opening the door, he saw the incredibly pail man "Wowzers... do you require a doctor?" he asked as the man entered. He was then rather startled as the Genie seemed to explode into action over in the corner. He flipped out his pocket watch. "I had hoped..." he shook his head before pocketing it. He then walked to the middle of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have gathered you all here for a reason." he said. Looking around, he was a little befuddled by the sight before him. Royalty, Monsters of Myth, Huntsmen... He rested his arm on the mantlepiece of the roaring fireplace. "I represent His Majesties Government. Specifically, his branch of government that deals with things most would deem un-natural." his eyes shot between the Genie and the Vampire.

"As several of you know... Science is evolving at an unfathomable rate. Every day, new and more frightening things are being created. Giant crawling gun emplacements, Steam Locomotives that do not require the rails to operate... Rumour has it that mans unreachable dream of flight might have already been conquered. At the same time. the existance of beings with immense power are not only real but among us. The Empire is not as safe as previously thought. I have been tasked of creating a team of extraordinary people. Capable of protecting the not only the Empire, but the world from those that would seek to rule it through these un-natural beings and these sciences... And what better time to unvail it than during the Royal Science Exhibition?" he walked to the back of the room "Go, Go, Gadget projector." he said as a projector appeared out of the top of his head and he slid into his chest.

A picture appeared on the wall "This is Professor James Moriarty, this man is the head of Moriarty Industries, the worlds foremost weapons company, as well as scientific leaders. Moriarty is currently in London, in his Foundry, creating technological terrors that the world is not ready for. Rescently, he has been inventing based on theories of scientists that have been going missing over the last year or so... We are naturally concerned that Moriarty Industries might be responsible for this." He then slid in another picture Another picture appeared on the wall. "This is the Earl of Dusselldorf, known only as Lord Vader." he said "He has been on our watch-list for quite some time. The Earl is one of the major investors in Moriarty Industries, as well as a personal friend of the professor. Lord Vaders words hold a lot of sway with many in Germany. I do not believe it would be difficult for him to amass the manpower necessary to perform an operation as large as that of Moriarty Industries... Too many things are falling into place for this to be coincidence only. I recently investigated the foundry, but all of the important area's were far too well protected for me to bring back any substantial evidence of anything... But a name did come up, that I will disclose... If you so choose to accept."

Leia's mouth thinned into a hard line at the mention of Vader. She'd had dealings with him before.

"Vader? You're sure?"

Genie leaned at the back wall of the room, right next to Leia. At this point he sported a backwards cap and sunglasses, with a basketball jersey and baggy pants. He looked a lot younger as well, and with his only hand he threw a white ball covered in stitches up and down. As Leia spoke, he caught the ball in his hand, then pushed his shades down and looked at her.

"You got some beef with this guy or what?"

His accent was a heavy italian-american new yorker accent.