The crisp air in the south of Spain breezed softly across the tall grass surrounding Montag Manor. Somewhere off in the distance, a magpie warbles a morning tune as the sun peeks lazily over the horizon, as though seeing whether today was a day worth getting out of bed for.
He would not be disappointed if he chose to stay up this day.
___________________________________
Inside the castle, the seven remaining members of the group that had been known in another time and another place as 'Vanguard' stood in silence. For the most part, they were incapable of speech at this point. The magnitude of change the last few hours had brought them came crashing down on their heads like a tsunami as Icarus had 'read off' his discoveries to them.
Drake Marshall. Nightwatch. Drax. Dead.
Tommy Foxe. Dead.
La Perdita. Base. Home. Gone.
It was Phil Smith that decided to break the silence. "So... what next?"
"Honestly," Ozzy said, "I don't know. Any number of things might work. I mean, where can we go? La Perdita's gone. There's no more Mandelovia. Nothing..."
"))(@&#$?" Adem chimed in, his hand dramatically poised on his chin.
"Oh, for God's sake, man, just write it down!" Ozzy said, holding out his hand to intercept Adem's note as it landed in his metallic hand.
"What about Munich?" Ozzy read aloud. Then, looking back at Adem, "What about it?"
"William," Lykopis said. "The brownstone. The European branch."
"Weren't you just listening?" Icarus chimed in. "There is no Vanguard here. At all. What makes you think there's anything in Munich worth looking for?"
"It was merely a suggestion," Lykopis said. "There is no need to be hostile..."
"I'm not being hostile!" Icarus countered, raising his voice. "I'm just saying that we need to think about this rationally!"
"Children!" called Ozzy in a loud voice, speaking over the two just as Lykopis was opening her mouth for rebuttal.
Instead, the Amazon shot Ozzy the dirtiest look in the history of dirty looks and, with a voice that would give an Eskimo a chill, said, "What did you just call me?"
Ozzy looked momentarily abashed... but only momentarily. Within seconds, he had regained his composure. "I just call 'em like I see 'em, your highness," he said curtly, turning his attention from the optical 'death rays' being bored into the back of his metal-coated skull.
"There may not be anything worth seeing in Munich..." he stated, "but that doesn't necessarily mean that I want to abandon what may be our best lead so far."
"Okay," Grimm spoke up, shrugging his heavy shoulders. "So... how do we get there, genius?"
Ozzy paused, biting his lower lip - a metal ting sound emitting as a result. "I don't know," he admitted after a moment. "It's not like we can just hop a train or anything. Not without selling a few of old man Montag's artifacts first..."
"Sorry to interrupt," Victor Reilly interrupted, his head cocked slightly to the side, "but I think getting to Germany is likely to be the least of our worries at the moment."
Everyone turned a confused expression toward Victor. "And what is that, Vic?" Ozzy asked.
At that moment, as if on cue, a sonic blast dropped the seven assembled to their knees, each clutching the sides of their heads with agony. Stained glass windows shattered. A fifteenth-century Ming vase on the mantle crumbled. And several men clad in black repelled into the room through every possible opening, swarming by the dozens.
A short chirping sound later and the sonic bombardment had stopped. Looking up, the members of Vanguard found themselves at gunpoint... or gunpoints actually. Well over five dozen semi-automatic machine guns were trained on them from several impossible angles.
"Breathe wrong and you die," a voice from just behind them said.
Slowly, the seven turned, coming face to face with...
"Grissom!" Phil said, a huge smile spreading across his face.
The blonde Brit cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. "And what the fuck are you doing in my house?"
Ozzy leaned his head forward. "You mean... you don't know us?"
"Should I?" Grissom asked, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Well," Ozzy said, "we know you..."
"Oh, bloody brilliant, mate!" Grissom said, rolling his eyes. "You know the richest man on the planet! Good for fucking you! I wager you to find seven people on this fucking planet who don't know me! That'd be the biggest surprise!"
"So..." Phil said, "you don't know us? At all?"
"Are you daft, son?" Montag asked. "Did your mummy drop you on your head too much as a child? Or do you just like to repeat what the big boys say so you feel like part of the conversation?"
Phil's eyes narrowed. Ozzy placed a hand on his shoulder. Looking back, Phil saw Ozzy shake his head and mouth the word, 'don't.' Phil nodded shortly, but definitely did not look happy about it.
"Now, as this is my house, I'll be asking the questions," Montag said, arms behind his back. "If I don't like your answers, you die. One snap of my fingers," Montag gestured a three-fingered hand for emphasis, "and I will have found a great source of fertilizer for the greenhouse out back...
"First things first - who are you and what are you doing in my house?"
"We're Vanguard," Phil spoke up, his voice clipped. "Or at least... at least we were..."
"...did you say 'Vanguard'?" Montag asked, pursing his lips in thought.
"I didn't stutter," Phil said angrily.
Ozzy sighed. "Shut it, Smith!"
"Oh, no," Grissom said, narrowing his eyes. "Let him keep talking. His brains would look good splattered on that tapestry on the far wall!"
Phil tensed a bit, now looking a bit more hurt than angered. The look of confusion on his face was almost heartbreaking for Ozzy. Before him, Phil saw his best friend berating him, threatening death... Ozzy knew how much that had to hurt.
"You know a bald git, then, I take it?" Grissom asked. "Cigarettes, long coat...?"
"Prometheus," Ozzy said. "I wouldn't say that we know him... but he's the reason we're all here..."
Grissom's face curled into a sneer. "So he's your ringleader, eh? Doing his bidding, are you, breaking into a stately mansion owned by the world's wealthiest man and owner of the most efficient global security network? What are you, then? Some kind of suicide squad?"
"No..." Ozzy said, "we're just people with too many questions trying to find answers..."
"And you thought you'd find 'em here?" Grissom raged, spittle flying from his mouth, glistening as it hit Ozzy's chrome face. "Well, I'm sorry to say it, but you are sadly fucking mistaken!"
"...fuck this..."
No sooner had the words escaped Victor Reilly's mouth than the man vaulted into the air, turning a somersault and landing directly behind Grissom Montag. Quickly reaching out a hand, Victor's fingers enclosed around a Bowie knife attached to Grissom's belt, which the assassin unsheathed, pressing the blade against Montag's Adam's apple.
The whole action took exactly five-point-three-nine seconds.
"Okay, you limey bastard," Reilly's cool, even voice droned in Montag's ear, "I'm calling the shots now. Disband the troops. Tell them to leave. Or I swear there will be fucking murders... starting with yours."
The look on Grissom's face was more aggravated than fearful. Looking out at his men, he spoke to the one standing directly opposite him. "Mr. Kavanaugh, redeploy the troops to the far eastern side. Set up a loose perimeter - surveillance only - and, no matter what you may see or hear, do not engage. Are we clear?"
"But, sir..." the man who was obviously Kavanaugh responded.
"Do. Not. Engage," Grissom said, arching an eyebrow. "Understood?"
A pause. Then, Kavanaugh nodded. "Sir," was all he said as he waved an arm in a militaristic fashion. Less than thirty seconds later, eight individuals remained in the kitchen of Montag Manor.
"Well?" Grissom asked, looking around at the faces surrounding him. "What ransom are you looking for?"
"No ransom," Ozzy said, shaking his head. "No money, no jewels... though we do like the house." Grissom sneered. "All we're looking for is passage to Munich."
Grissom blinked. "That's it?"
"Along with any help or influence you can provide," Ozzy said with a shrug. "We're hoping to find some answers there..."
