Paris, France
April 3, 2064

Laurell entered the Reserved Texts section of the library, her table had already been set aside. Settling herself behind the stacks of musty tomes, the thirty-something woman activated her music player.

Hours wash by under the careful chords and notes of Chopin played by the French National Symphony. Cameras watch Laurell as she slowly flips through pages of books that had begun to be preserved centuries before she was born. The last piece had to be here somewhere, years of research had narrowed her search to the books left on this table.

Shortly before the library closes, she puts the last book to rest. Collecting her laptop and placing the music deck into her triangular backpack, Laurell heads out. Outside, a phone number is dialed from memory.

"It's me. The piece you are looking for was moved to the collection with Joconde. I'll need the notebook and the Prince's Crown if you want me to finish the research...

Yes, I understand that it will be difficult...

Look I've spent the last decade putting this together for you, if you want out now that's fine otherwise you know who to contact...

Alright. Ciao!"

A camera swivels and tracks Laurell's movement across the parking lot to her subcompact and watching as she drives away.

Across Europe, the team receives the notification of pending work.

Interested party seeks team of professionals for antiquity procurement. Like to meet for further discussion of details at Ayers Rock. (Lyon, France) 04 Apr 2064 2130, upstairs.

-J

The woman entering the door perplexed Alain to no end. He didn't like things he did not understand, yet every time he thought he had her figured out, something new boiled to the surface. She were tall for an asian, almost as much as the scandinavian living on 2nd floor. Her features were decidedly asian, but with something... different thrown into the mix, like a european grandparent on both parents side, perhaps. Her slanted eyes were brown, her skin surprisingly pale this far south and her hair black. She wore her hair long as usual, and he noted the pinstriped suit that were nearly synanomous miss Johnson were what she wore as well. She were quite the looker, he conceded. Someone had definately been generous to her when they handed out bodies. But she nonetheless managed to unnerve him.

"Bonsoir, madame Johnson. This came in while you were out."

She smiled. It was a pleasant smile until you noticed it never reached her eyes. Alain carefully pushed the envelope over the reception desk towards her, noting she were carrying her teak suitcase tonight. That usually meant she had been attending something formal. The envelope had arrived earlier, carried by a woman he dimly remembered as an acquaintence of ms. Johnson. They were a rarity these days. Thick, slightly yellow silk with a rich texture and a crimson wax seal with a sigil that hurt the eyes if you looked on it for too long. A womans hand marked the font in cursive letters, indicating ms. Johnsons name and apartment number.

"Thank you Alain. Is there anything else?"

"Someone calling himself - aah - Monsieur Jacob Jensen has tried to reach you on the trid all morning. Eventually, he called the reception and asked us to remind you of your arrangement next month."

She nodded. Truth to be told, Alain didn't want to know. There were a time where he would gladly have pried in her private life - back when he were certain he had her pegged as a corporate secretary who could do nothing more than perhaps give him a slap on the face if she found out. But last month, some ruffian had tried threatening him for access to one of the apartments in the reception. Shortly after, ms. Johnson had casually entered the building, walked up to the desk and landed a vicious blow to the mans temple. The thing that unnerved him was that she were so casual about it. The police had had to send the man off to the hospital with a head trauma, yet she didn't look at the body twice after she were content he were disabled. It was one thing to know a martial art, in Alains world. And a completely different to use it without remorse.

"Very well. There were some problems with the garage door this morning, will you pass word on to have it checked?"

"But of course, madame Johnson."

Even so, he couldn't help himself but to stare at her back as she went to the elevator. The walk that was more of a glide across the floor. Noiseless, but he attributed that to the soft-soled slippers she wore. He had only seen her in stilletos once and had to strain his neck to meet her gaze. And that suit did look good on her. So did most things, he decided. And they'd look just as good crumpled up on his floor. A vision of a large orc with an ares predator lying on the floor mewling abruptly ended that train of thought, and he returned his attention to the front door. Diane from 5th floor were coming home too. He had a note for her as well...

...

Lin - Though most people here knew her as Mai Johnson - studied the sigil on the envelope for a while. She knew the hand, but it had been so long since she had heard from Kesai she had almost thought the other woman had finally managed to get herself caught. Last she heard, her old companion were in germany, having set her eyes on some reputedly magical tome. As soon as she were inside her apartment, she broke the wax seal with a silver dagger. An antique, yes, but too gaudy for her taste so it wasn't on display. Most of the apartment was decorated with various bits of fine art - every so often, she came across something during her job that looked good enough that she helped herself to it. None of the works were major finds, mind you. She had sense enough to fence those off as soon as the got her hands on them. The letter was in a familiar hand. A long tirade of well-wishes and mundane babble about what she were up to. All of it fabricated, if ms. Johnson were any judge. She rummaged for her old ultraviolet flashlight and shone it on the letter, some of the words and phrases glowing dimly in the light to reveal the real message.

Someone's trying to reach you. Your specialty. A team of professionals are wanted. Further details to be discussed at Ayers Rock, Lyon on 04 Apr 2064 2130. Cannot take job myself. Still in Germany.

Ms. Johnson tapped her chin slowly, pondering. It had been a slow couple of months, and she were getting slightly bored attending social gatherings to keep up appearances. She reached for the phone and dialled the reception.

"Alain, I will be out of town for a while. Could you please reroute all my calls to 1482 389 4271?"

"But of course, madame Johnson. Is there anywhere I may direct visitors if they wish to meet you?"

"Just give them the number, Alain."

She quickly gathered her equipment and packed it into a matching pair of suitcases that would fit in the small compartment behind the passenger seat of her car. Shortly after, she were on her way to Lyon.

Loki was caught offguard by the sound of his pocket secretary beeping over his transducer, startling the school of fish surrounding him. He gently returned to his yoga position, hovering amidst the coral reef of the mediteranean. He breathed in the fresh smell of the water, the Oxygenate spell converting it to air in the process, but not distilling the clear water smell that can only be found beneath the surface. Loki thought a bit on rainy days, and how the smell barely wafted through ones nose, but down here, it was the perfect essence of the smell. Finally, as the school of fish returned to his place, his hand opened with a condensed food packet that they began to feed off of again. He smiled, life was good when you didn't have to work. With that thought, he opened the message on his secretary. Speaking of work.... Looking at his Image Link connection, he noted that the date was April 4th, Don't give you alot of warning I see..... With no visible stimulation, Loki's body started moving upward, and then disappeared just before exiting the clear water. Loki hovered a few feet over the water as he flew towards his home using the Levitate spell, masked by Invisibility. He was dry from the air by the time he touched down on his balcony, and walked on the tile floors to the back rooms to dress and prepare for the evening. 9:30 eh? 500 km away, would have to catch the 5pm tram to Lyon to get to the Rock on time...

Come 9:30, Loki was located at Ayers Rock, about 12 minutes ahead of schedule.

The small house near Nice looked innocent enough. Built on a bluff overlooking a small bay, its brown brick walls mimicked a style in heavy use for the last hundred years. A small winding road led up to a turnaround, and a two car garage. Heavy foliage on the North side prevented any unwanted onlookers and gave the house a sense of security. That, and the fifty thousand nuyen worth of security equipment.

Ariel stood on the roof top, letting the wind blow though her shoulder length brown hair. It was her favorite time of year. The sun was low in the sky as it rose up over the Mediterranean sea. In the distance she could make out the slight noise of traffic on the Cote d Azur highway, the main road that her little driveway ran to.

It is always about balance, she though to herself. For the last hour she had been standing perfectly still, balance precariously on the iron eve that jutted out over her drive way. Her Blitzen was parked some twenty five feet below her on the very hard pavement.

The early morning wind began to pick up as the sun heated the atmosphere. Causing the warm air to rush over the land. Staying steady on the 10 centimeter wide bar was becoming tricky. A errant gust of wind slammed into her and she had a choice, go with it and fall where she wanted to, or fight it and fall where she didn’t.

The muscles in her legs flexed and she spun sideways through the air, falling gracefully to the earth. Both her feat landed in the 20 centimeters wide circle painted in red on the ground below.

With a hot shower behind her and a meal of Croissants and cheese Ariel sat on the couch reviewing the news faxes on her Trid. The blinking red light of a waiting message finally annoyed her enough to check it.

Interested party seeks team of professionals for antiquity procurement. Like to meet for further discussion of details at Ayers Rock. (Lyon, France) 04 Apr 2064 2130, upstairs.

“Perfetto,” she uttered. The team had been without a job in a while. The group had taken a semi break, each pursuing their own goals. Ariel however preferred it when they worked together, not a part.

Using a preprogrammed protocol her Trid automatically forwarded the message to the team. With any luck they would all be able to get to the meeting with out much hassle.

Just one day meant a rush job but Ariel had never stopped training. The Fox always told her, if you’re not working, you’re training. It didn’t take her long to lay out her working tools. All the anti lock/security system devices one could ever dream of. She also cleaned, and loaded her twin Glocks. She threw in enough magazines to last. Last but not least she opened a series of vacuum sealed bags. Each one was brand new and contained various forms of Body armor.

Once she had everything ready she sat back and relaxed. Lyons was only a few hours away and she could afford the wait time. The next morning she had a large breakfast with lots of high calorie foods. She tucked all of her equipment neatly into the Blitzen’s saddle bags and did one last check of the house.

Once on the road she let the autnav handle most of the driving. She spent the time mentally preparing for a the meeting. Each job was so radically different you never knew who or what you were going to get. Some Johnson’s treated the runners like gold, other pissed them away in suicide missions. It helped that she was highly specialized, but she still prepared for the day when she may have to just walk away, disappear like all her predecessors before her.

Lyons was an interesting city. Geographically it sat practically in the center of France, a little closer to the German border than Southern France though. The two rivers that ran trough the city made for lots of tourists and industry that dotted the city.

Ariel parked her bike a half a block away from Ayers Rock. Not being familiar with the particulars of the location she wanted to walk there. The Gock was neatly tucked into the small of her back, concealed by the leather shirt and black long coat. Luckily it was a crisp evening and she could get away with wearing layers.

Ariel took a moment to look around before leaving her bike. The small Italian woman inhaled deeply and let the stress and tension of worry leave her body with the exhale.

“Bene, qui andiamo Ariel”

By the time Ariels message reached her, Ms. Johnson had just arrived in Lyon. She quickly scanned the headers for other addresses the mail would have been sent to.

So that's who I'm paired up with. Good. Competent partners will make a refreshing change after last months sordid affair.

Thankfully, the cars dogbrain had taken care of the trip, allowing her a few hours of somewhat comfortable sleep. At first she hadn't known why it seemed to suffice, but it had turned out to be one of her earliest manifested adept powers. 2-3 hours, a cup of water and a solid breakfeast could easily see her through the day. Most of the day was uneventful. She spent a little time walking the streets to appease her restlessness and arrived a good hour and a half early at Ayers Rock and sampled the cuisine, keeping an eye out for the others.

Arriving in Lyon by train is a simple matter, the TGV still continues all the way into Gare de Perrache (Perrache Station) which connects directly to the A line on a shot north to Place de l'Opera--Hotel de Ville.

By car and motorcycle, simply take A7 or A43 into the city limits and head for the heart of the Centreville. Parking garages abound, the closest is a few blocks away from Ayer's Rock at L'Opera. A few euros buys an evening's respite for wayward vehicles.

Ayer's Rock itself is nestled in the youthful heart of a city that used to serve as a Roman garrison in Gaul. The premier arrondissement still carries a liberal, youthful feeling as Green supporters and college students unable to afford the prices of Bellecour rent flats. An apparently Australian pub and nightclub, Ayer's Rock has two floor.

Downstairs pounds with the latest trance and house beats to be synthesized by the Beautiful People, while upstairs private rooms can be reserved for drinking associations and parties. The soundproofing is solid enough to dampen the floor-pounding rhythms to a dull vibration. Strewn across the stairwell and lurking over the banisters VIPs often come upstairs where they can watch the crowd dancing beneath them and more importantly be seen watching.

The list of brews on tap rivals the number of private vinyards in the area, but you will only find a few select wines served. Most of the twenty-somethings who come to dance throw back a myriad of designer drinks or rely on simpler tendencies to see them through.

Lin:
Touring down Rue de la Republique, you pass by curio shops and the gamut of fashion from Tati's thrift stores to Vashon custom design houses. Glancing down sidestreets you see a darker edge to Lyon--tattoo parlors rubbing elbows with adult video storefronts. By the time you reach Place Bellecour and the cracked statue of Louis XIV the sun has begun to set.

Young adults mill around the former king mounted on a bronze stallion. Those at the head of the statue seem to be singles bouncing from one starcrossed lover to another. At the rear, groups wait and vanish off into the metro tunnels at predetermined times or when the last few stragglers have rounded out their menageries.

You leave the youth to their dalliance and return up a different thoroughfare, taking in the quiet babbling of the Soane before you cut across Place de Terreaux and back to the club.

Loki:
The metro is quiet at this time of night, each train more widely spaced. A woman in her early forties sits unobtrusively in the middle of the car, hands folded in her lap. She disembarks at Victor Hugo and you are left in silence.

Sound steadily builds back up, first the sound of the brakes and the alarm as the doors to the metro close behind you. Climbing the stairs, calls from friends and traffic grows. When you reach 2, Rue Desiree, the sound is a palpable force beating against your skin and vibrating in your chest as the music blasts out into the street.

You look up and down the narrow street designed for a horse-drawn carriage rather than modern automobiles, brace yourself, and step inside.

Ariel:
Sunny and pleasant, the drive north had been an exhilirating one. Most of the time the autonav pushed you in the right direction, skirting past traffic build-ups and bypassing the fare stations that were shutdown on strike. Of course, you occassionally ignored the computer's advice and pressed on at what it considered inappropriate speeds and wove through the twisted path of cars on the autoroute.

With the setting sun, the warmth of the day fades away to a crisp evening. The North Wind blows down the river valley, cutting through every layer as you cross the bridge on Cours Gambetta. Parking in an underground lot, you wave your plastic in front of the sensor and begin the timer for the lot. Up a flight of stairs and back onto the street.

You pass by a series of waterfountains that seem to be tied inextricably to the ugliest piece of modern sculpture you have ever seen. Boots click firmly on the cobblestones, striding confidently down the street so that any would-be mugger is warned off and knows not to even bother trying something foolish. Off a side-street to the right you see another club called the Down Under, a quieter bar judging by the fact that any music coming from it has been overwhelmed by that of Ayer's Rock.

Loki stands there, gazing up at the manifestation of man. He already missed the sound of water lapping on the beachfront. Altering to downtown perceptions would take a moment or 50. And the sounds of people clomping on the ground was enough to drive him... wait... I know that clomp... With a grin he turns around in time to see Ariel cross the street towards him. "Ariel ! ! ! Damn it's good to see your face.", the dwarf says as he floats over to her, his dwarven head kept at her height. "So... the whole gang comin over or what?" he asks as he holds his arms out for a hug. He then strolls towards the bar with her, paying the doorman for his own ticket, and intentionally avoiding paying for the woman's so as to not suggest he was "with" her.

John hung from the tree branch by his knees, watching the security guard pass beneath him. The man looked like he was wearing an armored jacket, and carrying a stun baton. He didn't look up while passing under the tree, and once he'd passed by on his route, John silently dropped to the ground, and sprinted towards the low building the man was guarding.

There was a simple maglock on the door. It only took him a couple of seconds to get the casing off, although crosswiring the circuit inside took a couple minutes longer. Time was starting to get a little too close for the guard to be coming back around when the door finally slid open, and John ducked inside.

A short corridor lead him to an airlock style door with a security camera above it. He waved as he walked up to it. He'd paid off the security decker to ensure that the camera's didn't see anything out of the unusual, and since no alarms were going off, it seems like he'd paid well enough.

A breeze blew past him as he opened the airlock. The clean room beyond was kept at a positive pressure, it's precious contents kept beyond an additional anti-particle screen. He skirted around the pressure plates, pulling a lead weight out of his satchel, carefully replacing the item with it. The item went into the bag, and he hurried back out the airlock, pausing at the exterior door. If the guard hadn't changed his path, he should be a third of the way through his route.

John slipped out, replacing the cover on the maglock, and quickly tidied up to make it look like it hadn't been tampered with. He stayed low to the ground, working his way back out to the wall, then over, darting to where he'd concealed his bike. He kept it to a low, quiet speed until he was a good distance away from the lab, and then opened up the throttle, rocking back on one wheel as he raced to meet with the Johnson.

----------------

The Johnson was waiting in an empty parking lot, smoking a cigeratee while leaning against the side of a dark colored Phaeton. He had a troll standing to his left, and an ork to his right. They both had their hands in their pockets. Something about their body language put him on edge.

"You got it?" the Johnson asked as John pulled up.

"Got it," John said, sliding the refrigerated sachel off of his shoulder and sliding it across the ground. "The rest of my payment?"

The Johnson tossed a credstick towards him, and as John reached for it, he coughed. At least, that was the sound he made as the APDS round punched through his armored vest, went through his lung and then blew a hole out his back. The troll bodyguard grinned, smoke rising from the neat, round hole in his pocket. The credstick hit the ground behind him, skittering on the pavement. Then the ork shot him.

"Go pick that up," the Johnson ordered the troll as John sank to his knees, sprawling face first on the pavement. He felt his flesh writhe, the wounds quickly stitching shut. That didn't mean it didn't _hurt_ beyond all description.

The troll gave him a kick as he went by. John kept himself limp, holding his breath and keeping still as the wounds finished closing. The ork was holding the limosuine door open for the Johnson. He looked up at the sound of ripping clothe, but didn't have time to shout a warning before John removed the troll's head with a single swipe, sending it bouncing off into the night. A single bound brought him to the ork's feet, and he rose up on his hindlegs, burying his claws in the man's shoulders and slamming him back against the side of the limosuine. He snarled, his muzzle and inch from the ork's face, and then crushed the other man's head between his jaws.

The Johnson was inside the limo, pressed against the far side of the car, blindly groping for the door handle. John paused a moment at the door to the car, looking the Johnson in the eye, raising his upper lip to bare his teeth, and then tore the man apart.

----------------

John watched the fire quickly spread through the interior of the limo. Under other circumstances, he might've found it odd that they'd been carrying a jerry can of gasoline and a box of matches in the passenger seat. All that was left on the outside were three puddles of blood on the ground, one across the side of the car, and a couple of splat marks where the head had bounced. He'd dragged everything (even the head) into the Phaeton before dousing it in gasoline and lighting it up. Including his old set of clothes. Even if the bullet holes and bloodstains hadn't ruined them, the transformation ripped them to shreds. A real shame, because that'd been one of his favorite sneaking suits. He'd taken the troll's shirt, since it'd been the cleanest, most intact piece of clothing left on the four of them, although he had to wrap it around his waist twice and tie it off in a knot. His jacket was still serviceable. The bullet holes weren't really that noticeable if you didn't look at close.

As the limosuine burned, he slung his satchel back over his shoulder, climbed back on his bike, and started the drive back to his doss.

----------------

There was a message waiting for him Ariel when he got out of the shower. Interested party seeks team of professionals for antiquity procurement. Like to meet for further discussion of details at Ayers Rock. (Lyon, France) 04 Apr 2064 2130, upstairs.

It would be nice meeting back up with the 'team' again, even if it would be another long ride. A lot better than the drek you had to deal with taking a run solo. He shook his head. He really hadn't been expecting a double cross on that one. The satchel was sitting on his kitchen table. He opened it up, took the item out, and stared at it

John shook his head again. The lengths that some people were willing to go to for a good unpasturized cheese.

----------------

John parked his bike in a public garage, handing across a few euros for the convinience. He then spent a few minutes with a pack of disposable wipes, cleaning the impact smears of dead bugs off of his helmet, and the front of his bike. He pulled out another wipe, wrapped it around the dirty ones, then threw the whole mass into a rubbish bin before finally heading for Ayers Rock. He saw Ariel and Loki enter the club, but was too far away to give them a shout. No problem with that, he'd meet up with them inside the club.

----------------

When the familiar dwarfs voice wafted across the street Ariel couldn't help but smile. Though she knew Loki didn't prefer to be around people the jovial dwarf had an infectious good nature that, she thought, brightened the day of everyone she met.

She returned his hug and smiled again. She spoke to him in her light Italian accent as she walked, and he hovered, to the club.

"Si, I believe everyone will be attending, though I haven't gotten conferma from anyone."

She slipped the doorman a 50 as she walked in, she didn't feel like being searched. Her stylistic outfit of black leather, 1 inch heeled combat boots, and dark sunglasses fit in well in the club. Her long brown hair danced in the multi colored lights as she made her way through the masses to the bar.

Her state-of-the-art cybereyes cut in and used the ambient light to brighten the dark patches of the room, while her flare comps took the edge of the swirling lights, giving her near perfect vision.

The time display lit up in the corner of her vision, ten minutes to go time. She triggered her internal radio set to the preprogrammed frequencies the team liked to use.

The transducer implanted in her brain let her talk on the radio without anyone knowing she was speaking. She took a drink from the bear she ordered, and spoke over the radio.

"Ascolti, ascolti, can anyone hear me?"

The club atmosphere reminded Ariel of the by gone days of her youth. When she fretted away her daddy's money in fruitless pursuits of pleasure and fame. The cold hand of shame welled up in her as she looked back on those years. Still, the music found a way into her heart, her empty hand began tapping her side in time with the beat. Her slender hips moved back and forth ever so slightly. The pounding pulsing beat of the music called her to the floor.

"Il soggiorno ha messo a fuoco, Ariel, do not be tempted," she said aloud to herself, hoping the words would give her strength.

"Loud and clear. I'm headed upstairs in five."

Ms. Johnson surveyed the room, her face a mask of indifference. Much to the dismay of the young man who had tried to talk her into dancing for the last fifteen minutes, she had shut off the music and answered his queries in as few words as possible. For all she showed, the room might as well have been dead silent and empty. The drink in front of her was gaudy at best. The bar didn't seem to serve anything simple worth drinking, and until the man had walked up to her about twenty minutes ago, the drink had at least kept random passer-bys from buying her one and expecting anything in return.

The drink was mostly empty now. Synthetic was the best word she could find to describe the flavour. Even as watered-down as it tasted, it still had a potent punch. Her metabolism was working overtime, breaking down the alcohol so she'd feel as sharp as ever. Even so, it was a releif someone else had arrived so she could drop the pretense. Her eyes picked out the familiar face of Ariel in the crowd, and she got up from her seat and left the stranger behind. Gliding effortlessly through the throbbing masses filling the dance floor, she managed to shake off the hopeful man who trailed behind her in the crowd. By the time she had reached the entrance, he were entirely hidden from view.

She offered Ariel and Loki a curt nod both and a breif smile each.

"Save for noise and teenagers, I haven't noticed anything worth mentioning in here. I trust you had a peaceful journey?"

Ariel cocked her head to one side and held her hand out flat, wobling it from side to side as she answered.

"Nothing to exciting, the drive was nice. Wraith's around here, we road up together but he had some things to take care of first I think. You guys seen anyone else?"

The ride up with Ariel had been relaxing. Europe was just more Wraith's style. The laid back country side. Wine vineyards. This was the life he'd always wanted. Beat's bustin' my tail to look out for someone else's interests. As the thought moved through Wraith's mind, he glanced over at Ariel. The long time friend still held out hopes for him to shift his world view to one more like her own, but he didn't ever see it happening. Sure, he'd done a few things to help her out from time to time, working for the good cause, but that was more helping out a friend than really worrying about the people behind the job. Or was it? That girl may just get to me yet, but I'll kick and fight the whole way. Makes the process more enjoyable anyways. He couldn't help but smile as his eyes went back to the road, but the beautiful rider next to him didn't leave his mind. Knock it off man.
_____________________________________________

As they approached the club, Wraith kicked the bike into silent mode and pulled into a nearby alley, leaving Ariel to find her own way. He shifted the polymers on his jumpsuit to a dark urban color scheme and made his way around the alley to the back of the club. It didn't take long for the back door to open and Wraith to slip inside. Centering himself for a moment, he quickly spotted each camera and noted their paths. A few minutes later, he stepped out into the main room, the color of his clothing shifting to bright neons so that he would blend in with the new crowd.

It only took a few moments to spot where his team was gathering and a moment later he appeared beside them. "Hello everyone. I hope the night finds everyone in good spirits?"

<<Ascolti, ascolti, can anyone hear me?>> chirped the bud in John's ear.

"Not only that, I can see you too," he sent back. "I'm about a minute behind you and Loki."

He submitted peaceably to the casual search at the door. Despite one hundred years of kung fu movies, people still rarely gave the slight, unarmed asian man much attention. Not that he _wanted_ that kind of attention, but it would be rather gratifying to have a burly gang take a step back from him in awe when their leader shouted, "Watch out! He is man of danger!"

Once inside, he took a few moments to get a feel of the club, then headed upstairs. He was extremely curious about what kind of job was being put on the table.

"What took you so long?" Lleu responded, crossing the room to join his partners. Having already been in town on previous business, he had been at the club for awhile now.

Thinking of said previous business...it had been good to see Merlin again. It was even better to be able to once more do something to help the resistance. Mrs Politician wouldn't be happy if she knew where her husband really was while he was away on business..

Lleu had hoped to introduce his friend to the rest of the group. But Merlin had to get back to Wales with the pictures. He wished he could deliver them himself. But that was not to be. All his skill at disguise wasn't good enough to get him past British customs these days. But one day...

Pulling his attention back to the present, he looked around to see if any of the others were straggling in. "So anyone know if there was any more information besides the blurb?" he asked.

"Oh, I've been here for a while. Only, you looked so intent on ogling the blonde woman on the dance floor these last twenty-five minutes I thought it would be cruel to distract you," Ms. Johnson replied dryly.

She turned and offered John a formal bow, as well with one of her ephemeral smiles as he joined the group. She'd be a liar if she said she understood the man, but she held a grudging respect for anyone with the stomach to kill someone without flinching if the need arose. Those were the kind of people it paid to have on your own side.

"I have heard nothing besides the blurb myself, and the short warning has made it next to impossible for me to do any digging. Everyone seems to be here now however. Unless we wish to be fashionably late, perhaps now is the time to meet our potential employer and find out what he has to offer?"

Waiting for a few moments more out of custom than because she expected to see anyone disaggree, she turned around and effortlessly made her way through the pulsing mass of Lyons young and beautiful towards the stairs for the first floor.

Wraith gave a nod to Ms. Johnson, "Yes. Lets."

The instant that he turned around and made his way towards the stairs, you couldn't help but feel the shift in him. It was always hard to see it, but you knew exactly when it happened. He seemed warmer, friendlier, sexier, and commanding. The dance floor parted for him as he walked through the crowd and he ignored the women as they eyed his passing, though, it was hard not to smirk at least a little bit...

As Wraith put on his working 'face' Ariel made a little circle in the air with her hand. She had seen it this many times, she knew the effect it had on people who weren't prepared for it. Which accounted for part of the reason for her to always have an excuse to be doing something else when he was in town. It would be to easy to for her to get lost. And while she admired him as a comrade, there was nothing between them, nor would there be if she could help it.

She followed the group up the stairs, scanning the area and keeping alert for any possible ambushes.

Team:
You cut a swath through the crowd, heads turn tracking your movements. Upstairs, a few of the beautiful people try to maintain their aloof, cool demeanor but can't help noticing your passage. Loki gets the most attention as he continues to float through the crowd, his shoulders set on level with most of the humans in the club and his feet walking on air.

A bodyguard stands outside the third door on the left, with a diver's build and lean features, you are quickly able to separate him from the posers. As you approach you feel his gaze glide over weapons, finally settling on John. This man is obviously a professional, assessing threat and prioritizing each of you.

He smiles and opens the door.

Inside a round table with chairs has a carafe of water and several glasses laid out. A man in his late fifties but physically fit stands in the corner with a cell phone in hand. Speaking quietly in Polish, he makes his goodbyes to the other end of the phone line and hangs up.

"Good evening. Please, sit down. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Ariel's smooth gate carried her into the room. She brushed closely to the bodyguard as she moved through the door. She tilted her chin and smiled up at the man, her soft brown eyes smiling at him.

Inside her eyes a nanoscopic camera captured the available light for the instant the guards face was in view. It translated the light to a digital image and stored it in the girls headwear memory for later recall.

Ariel completed the process of moving into the room. Slipping her sunglasses of her face to disappear inside one of the many pockets sewn into her coat. She left her thin black leather gloves on and collapsed onto one of the offered chairs.

Her alert eyes scanned the room, snapping pictures of each of the faces that weren’t part of the team.

"Si, thank voi for having us."

"I wasn't too busy to notice that you've been turning heads too..." Lleu replied, indicating a man in the corner, that when attention was drawn to him, tried not to seem like he was paying attention and failing. "Must be shy." he added as he followed the group upstairs.

Of a comparatively diminutive build next to her associates, and carrying nothing more dangerous than a pocket secretary and her hands, Ms. Johnson were content when the security guards gaze skimmed over her. It rarely paid to be noticed as exceptional in their line of work. She picked up a few of the words spoken, though she knew not a whiff of polish and decided not to pursue the matter further. She allowed her eyes a quick sweep across the room before settling on the man she assumed to be their new employer.

Content that Wraith was obviously planning to play the part of the mouthpiece, she picked a chair at random after offering the other Johnson in the room as much of a smile and greeting as custom dictated. Outward, she wore a mask of passive indifference, letting the others lead the word for now and keeping her radio connected through its transducer. Inwardly however, her senses were all running at full. Too many forgot that the job started before you had even aggreed to do it, and if anything out of the ordinary was about to happen, she had no intention of being caught flatfooted.

Wraith strode into the room with confidence and took a seat directly across from their new prospective employer. He folded his hands in front of him and smiled, waiting for the contact to start things off.

John couldn't help but feel a little jealous at the way the crowd parted before Wraith, the way eyes trailed after him hungrily. He went completely unnoticed in the man's wake. Perhaps that was for the best. Better to be not noticed at all, rather than to proceed first, and to be found wanting as the eyes of the crowd move from you to the greater man walking behind you.

At the door, he felt the bodyguard's eyes come to rest on him, and he made brief eye contact with the other man, nodding before his eyes casually slid away. Acknowledging the fact that he knew that the bodyguard knew.

As the bodyguard smiled and opened the door, John let his eyes slip into the astral plane, assenning the bodyguard, the room, and the gentleman speaking on the phone within. "Good evening. Please, sit down. Thank you for coming on such short notice," he said as he hung up the phone. John gracefully lowered himself into one of the chairs around the table, pulling out the teakwood case from his breast pocket, and placing his gold rimmed glasses on his face.

John:
Glancing at the bodyguard you see the soft shadows of several soft implants spread through his body. Unawakened and healthy, he is wary and alert.

Inside, the Johnson has a distinct lack of cyberware. You note a datajack at the base of his skull, standard business 'ware. He seems to be prepared and ready to negotiate business.

Wraith:
Seated across the table you notice a quiet shiver in the man's features, characteristic of the early onset of Parkinson's Disease. Otherwise the Johnson is focused and ready.

Team:
Settling himself at the table, the Johnson nods to the bodyguard outside and the doors quietly closes. Inside, the room takes on a silent characteristic with only the hint of vibration through the floorboards to suggest the loud music on the other side of the door.

"Ladies, gentlemen. I am a simple man with simple tastes, so I will get down to business quickly. A few items need to be collected from a museum to the north of here, specifically a ruby and a journal. The museum is the former Palais de Louvre in Paris. Are you willing to accept such a task?"

Ariels eyes widened in surprise. The Louvre was one of the best guarded museums in the world. Many a would be thief tried to make a name for themselves only to get caught in the iron grip of airtight security.

Loki seemed to care less as he floated through the crowds. Not like the look was that much different than when he walked through them. At least this way people looked him in the eye a bit more since most people never noticed the lack of legs due to the long duster he wore. His arms were the usual give-away, the sleeves just looked empty when they hit things or people. He came into the room, grinning like a fool at the guard, a 'dare me' written on his face, then sat down at the table with the rest of the team.

He nodded when the man spoke. He linked into the pre-arranged channel that the team used and through his transducer sent the message to the rest of the team. "Louvre eh, hope the payout is worth the risk, but I'm up for it."

<Pump him for more information,> Ms. Johnson ventured over the transducer. It was only the second time she had used the radio this evening, so she doubted anyone would break through the encryption for a good few hours yet if they were trying. <I have no qualms against trying, but the more dangers we know of, the more bargaining chips we have when payment is negotiated.>

Try as she might, she could not entirely suppress a pang of contempt at Wraith. She had seen the man do it before, which was why she were prepared for it. But to flaunt your use of awakened abilities to make others like you still seemed only one step short of brainwash to her. It was a fair deal to use it when need dictated, but another matter entirely to use it on the crowd on the dancefloor below to boost your ego in her opinion. No matter. In here, it would be useful.

<I don't know with the rest of you, but it'll be a long while yet before I need to worry about being able to pay my bills. He'd better make it worth our while to tangle with the Louvre security.>

She smiled breifly. <Isn't it close to your anniversary soon, Ariel? Should we worry you'll leave something on their front desk?>

John steepled his fingers together, leaning forward with an intent look on his face. His curiosity was definetly piqued. A ruby, and a journal. From the Louvre. _That_ certainly made it interesting. A man of simple tastes indeed!

Although the the expression on his face was friendly, with the corners of his mouth turned up in a not quite smile, he didn't blink as he looked the Johnson in the eye. "How much is the retrieval of these items worth to you, and are they on public display, or in storage?"
------------------

"These items are currently on display in the Joconde collection. It is a unique collection studying the work of the Master himself. As for payment, I was assured that you are the best. Shall we start the negotiations at seventy thousand euros each? Of course, once you are inside there will be millions available at your fingertips for the effort of picking it up."

The clear undertone of a British accent that has spent too much time on the continent, washes through his words.

Wraith was thankful that he'd trained his body language to a point that his surprise didn't show through. He'd seen some tough jobs in his day, but this was... wow. Over the comms, he silently transduces, "Is this guy for real? I mean, we're good, but this is the Louvre."

"Sir, I hope you realize what you are getting us into. This isn't something to be taken lightly, so we won't even continue talking about this unless you honor us with something a little more to our simple tastes. One hundred thousand, each. Half up front. Agree to that and we can continue."

Ms. Johnson took this moment to chirp in. Her voice was subdued and unassuming. She had no intention of being remembered as a leadership type when they left the room.

"What my associate means to imply," and she were surprised he hadn't. Joconde was not commonly used anymore. Even most of the custodians at the Louvre had referred to it as the Mona Lisa collection last time she visited the place. "Is that you are asking us not only to enter the most heavily guarded museum in Europe, but also to collect an item from their most closely guarded collection. I had intended to visit the museum myself during opening hours before it is returned to its owners at the end of the month."

She let her gaze run over everyone in the room. Hopefully it'd make it clear to the others that this information was intended for them as much as being a bargaining chip for later.

"If we are to bring in specialized equipment, we will have precious few nights left to work in, so I am certain you have some sort of plan in mind?"

She had seen some of the works before. Leonardo DaVinci were one of the few european artists her professor in University had not held in contempt, and she always jumped on any oppertunity to study his works up close. Pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher, she settled back into her chair. That should be enough that Warith would at the very least let her know over the radio if he were treading water in regards to where they were going.

Loki maintains his silence. He doesn't care about the money so much, though it's nice bonus, he cares about the heist. He switches to Astral Perception to observe the strangers in the room, quietly noting their auras and storing the data in his brain as well as some notes to help his memory into his PocketSecretary. <Who is this 'Master' he refers to?>

Ms. Johnson fought down the annoyance. She thought she had just made it perfectly clear by indicating the Mona Lisa collection, but it would seem not. <Leonardo DaVinci. They are having a big exhibit until April 30th in the Louvre where several of his works are lent to the museum from private collections.>

She kept her eyes on the other Johnson in the room, waiting for him to continue.

<Incidentally, it also means that if any of you snag an item that just happens to be sitting around near the book and gem, it'll have so much heat on it there's no way you'll be able to fence it off.>

"One hundred thousand it is. I do not have the cash on hand but if you give me an account number I can arrange for an electronic transfer."

Sitting alone in the room, surrounded by professional thieves and murderers doesn't seem to bother the Johnson. Either he's done this in the past or he is confident that you won't hurt him. He turns his attention to Ms. Johnson and continues.

"I wouldn't presume to tell you how to complete your job, I'm sure your professional opinion and knowledge would more than suffice. Though I would pass through the exhibit and the rest of the museum laying out my shopping list and noting the security systems. There is a computer systems specialist in Marseille who would be available for the job if you think that his assistance would be required, otherwise I would see what I can find to control the magical security in the museum and limit external responses."

"So that's it, the ruby and the book. Do you have a time fraim you want these things buy?"

Ms. Johnson drained her glass of water and regarded everyone in the room pensively.

<Presumably before the exhibit ends at the end of the month. The money's good and the challenge sounds interesting. I'm in. Just make sure that it's him that pays the tech specialist and not us if we take him up on his offer.>

<Well I was actually thinking it would probably be easier to hit it during transport when it leaves the museum. But if the time frame is to short to do that...>

"And I assume you'll be paying for the Decker. Something like this should have had one join up from the get-go."

"I would prefer delivery by the end of the month if possible. That would leave you twenty-five days starting tomorrow. Will that be sufficient? As for the decker, he will be compensated according to his needs. I can provide contact information for him, though I would suspect that he will want the first meeting to be somewhere on his own "turf" since there are more of you than him."

Loki nods, 25 days to break into the most secure building in europe, to steal some of the most valuable items on the face of the earth, a piece of culture, priceless, irreplaceable, and for the cost of under a million euro total. For the first time, the dwarf speaks up after having held his piece long enough. "Sir, may I ask, why the original and not a copy? Seriously, these priceless items aren't even sellable, and anyone caught with them will be hunted down and taken down. As a shaman, I assure you that the astral signature of a Relic, and that is what something so well known is, is easy to track down, and whoever gets these items will have all of about a day to enjoy them. I mean, something from that age, that everyone and their mothers, even in the ghetto of the lowest sprawls, knows about, will be what some refer to as 'beacons' on the astral plane, begging to be found. I don't mind getting the items, as long as I'm rid of it within 2 hours of it's acquisition, but you're begging whoever it is that wants the items to be caught. You can't even replicate these things anymore, sure, physically you could do it, but not spiritually. The reason they became such revered pieces of art in the first place is because of the signature placed on them by their creator. De Vinci had a strong personality, and imbued himself on this art, which is why his art, though less attractive than other art, became so desireable and valued. His death itself enhanced the spiritual level of the art, even back when it was a mundane world. I apologize, I suddenly realize I've just rambled like a college professor, but do you understand what I'm saying? My worries isn't about if we can do it, that's an inevitability. But is it really worth it to you?"

Turning his attention to Loki there is a sense that the Johnson almost might be more comfortable in a university than a boardroom. That impression was strengthened by a quick smirk at the mention of a college professor.

"His reasons are his own, but I have been led to believe that my benefactor and your employer needs the original journal for the reason that you mentioned. Because it is a relic, the power imbued there within is very important and cannot be duplicated with a copy. The ruby I believe fulfills a similar need. Its connection to Da Vinci is tenuous as it was never in his possession. In fact it was set in a ring that belonged to a man connected to Da Vinci only through speculative writing.

The exhibit has the primary display with the art of the Master himself, and a subset of pieces that get wrapped up in the mystique surrounding fictitious organizations and connections that Da Vinci was believed to be a member of. Historians have refuted such claims, and it is really more of a curiousity than anything else."

"But that still does not answer the question of where to store the items so they are not tracked down within minutes of being stolen. Will a sufficiently warded or otherwise protected location within reasonable distance of the Louvre be provided for a drop-off?"

In her mind, Ms. Johnson cursed at herself. She had promised herself she'd let the others do the talking, but they seemed to miss the important questions at the oppertune moments.

"I've little doubt that we can remove the items from the place if we set our minds to it; but holding on to them - possibly for days - after the gendamerie put every single mage they can get their hands on to track the astral signature is another matter."

"The risk of tracking is understood, but you must realize that I cannot be at your beck and call at any hour for the rest of this month. If you are able to give me a twenty-four hour notice in advance of when you plan on acquiring the items, I can make a storage site available and I will be ready within two hours of you having the item in your possession to take them off your hands. Will that be sufficient?

It is certainly not my desire to see you harrassed by the gendarmerie in their quest for the safe return of such objects. I had been told that your group was the best and I hope such reputations were well earned."

"Well I think it is somewhat obvious that any plan we would come up with for stealing something this high profile would include handing the item off as quickly as possible. We cannot know how quickly, or in what way, nor can we ask you sir to provide us with a way, untill we have laid out a plan."

The Louvre? Sheesh...and he had been thinking the Tower of London would be a challenge. And that was just for those pretty baubles that they put on display for the tourists and amatures...he diidn't even want to think about the protections on the real deal. But taking not one,but tow items from The Mona Lisa collection? That seemed akin to just asking to be caught. But...it had been awhile since the last time the group had seen a proper challenge. If they could pull this off, they'd pretyt much have established that they could go anywhere and do anything.

<Ok Wraith, take the job, and lets get started, I think we have all the info we need. And if we have any other questions we can always call him.>

<Check.>

"Alright. We'll do it. I guess all we need is your contact information then and we'll be in touch."

"Thank you. I, of course, still need the account number to wire the funds to and our negotiations will be completed."

The Johnson reaches into his coat and pulls out a high-end Renraku pocket secretary, slim and sleek. He transmits the contact information to Wraith, awaits the number and after confirming the wire transfer he leaves.

Sounds briefly inundates the room as the door is opened, before a calm quiet again takes form in the silence that follows.

Ms. Johnson scanned the faces of everyone, then decided to trust to the transducer still.

<Trust the Johnson to deal straight, or should we find a place of our own to start sorting out the details?>

"If the Johnson isn't dealing straight, we're boned to begin with." Lleu commented once the Johnson in question was gone.