Tales of the Meridian Society! (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Colin nodded agreement at Anne Marie's words. Unslinging his satchel, he began handing contents. "Torches," he said. "And matches, just in case." Then he strapped on a brass and leather belt, with a baroque sidearm in a leather holster. "A heat gun as well." He winked. "Just in case."

Pulling on the wellingtons, he ducked under the rope. In no time at all, the light from the tourist passage was lost, leaving the trio to proceed down the skull-lined hall with nothing more than the light cast by their electric torches. Colin found himself walking softly out of sheer superstitious dread, as if he feared awakening the dead. "Well," he murmured softly, pausing to make a small mark on the wall with a piece of green chalk, "I can see where the lurid tales of the catacombs come from. I suppose it's true that devil-worshipping cults meet down here?"

Shortly thereafter, the passageway branched. Fingers over the lens, Colin sent a thin shaft of light down each of the three corridors in turn. "Anyone have any suggestions?" he asked. "I don't see anything in particular to recommend one over the other."

Anne Marie shrugged at the suggestion that Devil-worshipping cults might meet down here. "I do not know. Those types of groups tend to be secretive, no?" She gave a thin smile before following the others down the corridor.

It wasn't long, however, until they came to a crossroads. Kieran and Colin stood abreast and Anne Marie peered over their shoulders. Three passages, three of them...but that wouldn't be very smart. She sighed and shrugged. Each passage could go on for miles; it would take them forever to explore each one.

"Normally I'd say we split up," Kieran said, jumping a little and lowering his voice at the sound of his own echo. "But we don't know what we're dealing with here. I think we'll need to explore each one as a group. We can always come back for the others if it takes too long."

Colin nodded at Kieran's comment. "We don't know the territory. Staying together would be best. But..."

He considered the problem, carefully. "We should listen," he finally said. "See if we can hear anything - ridiculous as that statement sounds. The Machine Men, as I understand matters, have many virtues readily appreciated by the would-be mad despot. But silence is not one of them."

Shining a torch down the leftmost passage, he drew a breath. "I propose to walk down the corridor until it turns, or until I reach the limit of how far torchlight will shine. That will put me far enough away to not be distracted by sounds here, but close enough for the two of you to come to my aid should I require it. Then, if I hear nothing, I'll return and do it with each of the other passages in turn."

He glanced at Anne Marie, and then lingeringly at Kieran. "Comments? I dearly would love to be talked out of this mad plan, so you shan't hurt my feelings by proposing something else..."

"But these are the Wings of Silence," Anne Marie pointed out as Colin said that the Machine Men weren't meant to be quiet. "They could have perfected the design by now."

"Yeah, but you can't silently convert a human to a machine, love," Kieran pointed out. "There's got to be some sort of noise if nothing else from construction."

"Fair enough," Anne Marie conceded, nodding.

When Colin proposed his plan Madame LaMonte took a deep breath and nodded. Kieran shook his head when the other captain begged them to talk him out of it. "Your the brains, mate," he said with a rueful smile. "I'm just here to look pretty."

"What does that make me, then?" Madame demanded, hands on her hips.

"The Femme Fatale," he said with an unconcerned shrug. "Every group has to have one. Sam plays it poorly I'm afraid, so you're enough for both." Anne Marie shrugged, content, and Kieran turned back to Colin. "Go on, mate," he said with a shooing motion. "Time is of the essence, you know."

"I've seen her shoot, Kieran," Colin pointed out. "I'd say Sam qualifies as a fatal femme..."

He waited. Nobody laughed. Fair enough, it was a stupid joke.

"And, on that note, I can only hope that at least one of you will come and rescue me if something goes wrong. Instead of leaving me to the fate that feeble attempt at humor deserves." With that, he turned off his own torch and clipped it to his belt. Then, loosening his revolver, he walked down the leftmost tunnel. It ran straight as an arrow for some fifteen meters, before the light from the torches behind him began to fade. Marking a skull with a green dot - there was no bare wall to mark - he stood and listened.

Nothing.

Retracing his steps, he tried the middle corridor. It twisted slowly, writhing like a great lazy serpent, and the light from the torches was lost after no more than ten meters. Another mark on the wall, another interval of listening. Again, nothing.

"Well," he remarked as he returned to the group. "Could someone else have a stroke of genius? In case the third passage here doesn't pan out?" And he started down the tunnel. It was straight, heading off from the central tunnel at an angle of about forty-five degrees. At around fifteen meters, he stopped and marked the wall and listened. Nothing.

Uttering a dejected sigh, he turned and started back. And then he stopped. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but... was that the sound of distant pumps? Or... some sort of machinery? Maybe. Gesturing urgently, he motioned for Anne Marie and Kieran to come closer. "Listen," he hissed. "Can you hear that?"

He hoped they could. This was no time to start imagining things.

Anne Marie gave Colin a sort of courtesy chuckle, but it was clear that was all it was. Kieran stood stonefaced and raised an eyebrow at the feeble joke. Then they watched and waited as Colin tried each tunnel in turn. Nothing. Then, as it seemed they were going to have to regroup and try something else the captain stopped and listened before beckoning them closer. Lowering their torches, they both stepped carefully to join him and listened.

"Machinery," Anne Marie whispered. "Very large machinery."

"Hydraulic pumps," Kieran confirmed, closing his eyes to better listen to the sound. There were some noises he could pick out that were common in the engine room of his aeroship. "Some sort of clockwork something rather with a few squeaky gears that keep getting stuck. And...a steam-powered engine of some sort." He opened his eyes and looked at his companions. "It's this way."

Anne Marie nodded, fishing a linen bandage from her bag and holding it over her torch to dim the light. "Let us go then, no?"

Colin lifted an eyebrow at Kieran's proclamation. "All that? Oh, you're good. Any idea how long since the engine's been tuned?" Still, he followed Anne Marie's lead, clipping a red cellophane lens over the front of his own torch. "And yes, Madame," he agreed, "let us go forward."

"I wonder, though," he found himself saying a moment later, "why a steam engine? I would think a radium reactor, or one of the new thorium reactors, would make more sense. Quieter, if nothing else." Not that he expected an answer from his colleagues, not yet. If any of them had possessed that answer, there would be no need to be down here in the first place.

The sounds seemed to gain and lose and gain again in volume as they tracked them. Eventually, though, the steady glow of an electric light could be seen ahead. Clicking off his own light ad gesturing to the others to do likewise, Colin waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Then he crept forward. Around a turn, there stood a man in front of an an archway. He was backlit by the harsh glare of the light, but he wore an overcoat and some sort of helmet that obscured his face. And heavy metal gauntlets.

Colin fell back. "A Machine-Man," he whispered. "Do we take him?"

Kieran raised an eyebrow back at Colin. "Not sure if that was sarcasm, mate, and if it was it hurt. Right here." He put a hand over his heart and feigned a hurt look before digging in his bag to try to find anything that might dim his torch light but not extinguish it. Sighing in frustration and shaking his head, he had to merely make do with putting his hand over the front and parting his fingers so only a tiny sliver of light shone through. "Why a steam engine?" Kieran shrugged. "Maybe they value reliability over ingenuity?" he suggested. "Less likely to blow up in any sort of way noticeable to the surface."

There was no answer as the two of them followed Colin through the gloom. The noises seemed first far away, then closer, then far again as they twisted and turned through the catacombs. At one point they had to trudge as carefully as they could through a section flooded with sewage and rainwater, making them grateful for their boots. They gained dry ground again, and not long after came the glow of electric light. The other two extinguished their own lights when Captain Drake motioned to them. Anne Marie crept up behind the captain to look over his shoulder at the Machine Man standing in the harsh light.

"Mais no," Anne Marie replied, shaking her head. "We are here to observe only, for now. I think we only act if we are directly threatened. We should follow him."

"Follow him?" Colin answered, glancing back at the Machine-Man. "We really should recruit an actual spy or two for this sort of work. Or a thief." He held up a finger to silence Kieran's protest. "No, not you. Someone good at being quiet, and sneaking around."

He glanced around the corner again, watching. The Machine-Man stood stock still for long minutes, staring into the corridor. Then, stiffly, he rotated on his feet and stalked back into the chamber beyond. Gesturing to the others, one hand on his heat gun, Colin stepped out and followed him. Every squeak and scrape of his wellingtons on the floor sounded excessively loud, magnified by his imagination. But imagination it must have been, because the figure before them never stopped, never turned, never reacted.

Other than the infrequent electric lights, dangling naked from electrical lines strung along the ceiling, this part of the catacombs looked no different. Ribs and skulls and scapulas and femurs were all packed into the walls, creating a ghoulish parquet. But, as they turned a corner, they found signs of fresh excavation. Archways cut into the walls, lined with splintered bone, with bare-walled chambers beyond. Many of the chambers appeared to contain parts - prosthetic limbs, or eyes, or less comprehensible parts. One nightmarish room, stinking of blood and rot, was filled with a dozen surgical beds beneath blade and wrench tipped clockwork armatures like nightmarish brass spiders.

The beds, Colin noted, held blood gutters. And there were drains on the floors.

And then, up in the distance, was the sound of a gunshot followed by shouting. "Vernut'sya! Vernut'sya, vy metallicheskiye monstry!"

Anne Marie couldn't help but laugh when Colin insisted they ought to hire actual spies for this sort of work. "My dear Captain Drake, do you really think the only reason Professor Swift assigned me this is because I am familiar with Paris?" She laughed again and shook her head. Silly man.

Still, she followed as he led the way, following the Machine Man. Only Madame LaMonte seemed to somehow stay quiet in the wellingtons. She'd had a lot of practice with many different kinds of shoes. Her job--her real job--often called for care and silence, after all. One eyebrow quirked as they seemed to enter through new excavation, passing under freshly cut archways which led to new corridors and bare chambers. As they passed the bloody room Anne Marie couldn't help but stop and stare. She put a hand over her mouth and nose, a look of pure disgust across her face.

"Merde..." she murmured. Kieran nodded in agreement.

"We need to stop whatever sick fuck is doing this," he said in a low voice. The pirate's gorge rose at the stink and the atrocities clearly committed here that even he as a pirate had never even considered. Were he a crueler man he might be taking notes. As it was, he suppressed his gorge and turned away.

The group was startled out of their sickened silence by a gunshot. Then voices shouting. Anne Marie looked a little surprised.

"It seems our Russian friends have beaten us here," she observed quietly.

"Merde..." Anne Marie murmured, voice thick with disgust. And even Kieran agreed, with a muttered "We need to stop whatever sick fuck is doing this."

"The Wings of Silence," Colin murmured, closing his eyes for a moment, knowing that the horrific implications of that room would haunt him to his death. "They are the sick fucks we need to stop." He drew a breath, gesturing into the room. "And that is the fate of Paris, perhaps of the world, if we do not." Another breath, and he sagged against the wall for support. "I only hope that..."

Up in the distance, was the sound of a gunshot followed by shouting. "Vernut'sya! Vernut'sya, vy metallicheskiye monstry!"

Anne Marie looked a little surprised. "It seems our Russian friends have beaten us here," she observed quietly.

"Which ones?" Colin asked, rising from the wall again and drawing his heat ray. A low hum, right at the edge of hearing, filled the tunnel as he powered the weapon up and took aim at the footsteps approaching them. A second passed. Two. Three. Then two figures came around a bend at the end of the tunnel. Reflexively, he pulled the trigger. A pale, pinkish beam lanced out, blasting bone to smouldering fragments as the two figures hurled themselves to the ground.

"Poshel na khuy, Chelovek-Mashina!" snarled one of the figures as it rolled to its feet, raising a revolver. "Se il vous plaît, non! Nous sommes humains!" called the other, in a higher voice. Then they both froze.

"Madame Giry?" Ioseb Jugashvili asked over his pistol, surprised. "Is it you?"

His companion, Yasmine Ameriane, stared as well. "Captains Drake and Shane? Whatever are you...?"

Movement. Colin shifted right, blasting half the torso of a Machine-Man to ash and molten ruin with his heat gun. ""I propose," he suggested, killing a second Machine-Man, "that we run now, and answer questions later."

Anne Marie didn't have a heat ray like the men, but she had a pistol. She raised it as the two figures hurled themselves around the bend before throwing themselves to the ground in the heat of Colin's reflexive shot. She was about to call out in French to them when they stood and her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Oi Yasmine," Kieran greeted her, lowering his heat ray and giving her a charming smile.

"There is time later for flirting," Madame LaMonte said, rolling her eyes just as Colin shot down a Machine Man. "Run!" She grabbed Jugashvili's arm and pulled him along the corridor as Kieran took Yasmine's hand and the group sprinted down the passage way. As they ran Anne Marie looked up at the new beams that had been carved to support the newer excavation in the centuries-old catacombs. "Give," she panted, snatching Kieran's heat gun away. She let go of Ioseb's hand, pushing him ahead of her before jogging backwards and aiming at the ceiling. The weak, poorly-constructed supports gave way easily, collapsing between them and their metal pursuers. With a slight smile she turned and sprinted to catch up with the others, not stopping until they were out of the tunnels.

Several minutes later...

Colin leaned against the stones of the entrance to the Catacombs, breathing hard and clutching his side. "I've... got a ... a stitch," he lamented, wincing as he tried to stand upright. "Damn... that hurts..."

Yasmine, who had laid claim to a lamppost, did her best to give him a sly wink. "Thought... I thought... you were... a soldier..?" she puffed out.

"Sailor," he responded. "Not... not much... call... for running... in the... Aeronavy."

It had been touch and go, really. Things had calmed down, of course, once Anne Marie had brought the ceiling down. But none of them had been inclined to wait, other than to ensure that all of them made it out. But there was only so much sprinting you could do, particularly through narrow underground corridors, without getting winded or hurting yourself. Ioseb was, it seemed, in the latter category. He'd taken a turn a little too sharply, and now pressed a damp cloth to his left eye. Swelling was already visible. "Do not think I am ungrateful," he was saying. "Your unlooked-for aid was timely and well-received. But... is it wise to remain here?"

He gestured back at the entrance. "They are down there, after all. And while I agree we should - how do you say? - compare notes? Yes. We should do that. But not right here."

Colin straightened up, painfully, and nodded. "I agree," he managed to get out on the second try. "Madame..." he fished around for the cover she'd used, "Giry? Where would you suggest?"

Kieran leaned with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He looked to Colin and shook his head at complaints of a stitch. "Stretch it out, mate," he suggested. Being on the other side of the law he was quite used to running when he was on land, but that had been quite a sprint. "Lord..."

"There is a cafe nearby," Anne Marie suggested. "But Monsieur Jugashvili you are hurt. It would attract attention." She looked around, pushing some hair out of her face. "We need to find a telephone. I can call my driver and he will bring us somewhere safe. Colin?" She tilted her head before stepping to the side with the captain.

"We cannot bring them to my home, oui?" she murmured. "But they are right; we cannot stay in public. I know a few places more private than the street, maybe if I could get in touch with one of my contacts we would have a better chance than a cafe. And they will want to know why we were down there, as I am sure we are just as curious about them. What might we say?"

"Sailor," Colin responded. "Not... not much... call... for running... in the... Aeronavy."

"Stretch it out, mate," Kieran suggested.

Colin drew a deep breath. "I'll stretch you out," he countered, shaking a weak fist in the pirate's direction. Then, as Yasmine looked to see how Kieran would respond, Colin shot him a wink.

Ioseb, meanwhile, was calling their attention back to the fact that remaining right at the entrance to the catacombs was a potentially terrible idea. "They are down there, after all. And while I agree we should - how do you say? - compare notes? Yes. We should do that. But not right here."

Colin straightened up, painfully, and nodded. "I agree," he managed to get out on the second try. "Madame..." he fished around for the cover she'd used, "Giry? Where would you suggest?"

"There is a cafe nearby," Anne Marie suggested. "But Monsieur Jugashvili you are hurt. It would attract attention."

Ioseb laughed. "Let me drink a little vodka, then, and we'll tell everyone that I picked a fight with a man twice my height over your affections." He winked with his good eye. "I'm Georgian, and you are beautiful. Everyone will believe it."

Yasmine rolled her eyes. "And did you win this fight?"

"Of course. It was for Madame Giry's honor!"

She looked around, pushing some hair out of her face. "We need to find a telephone. I can call my driver and he will bring us somewhere safe. Colin?"

"Hmmm?" The stitch was starting to subside, and he looked up as she stepped close.

"We cannot bring them to my home, oui?" she murmured. "But they are right; we cannot stay in public. I know a few places more private than the street, maybe if I could get in touch with one of my contacts we would have a better chance than a cafe. And they will want to know why we were down there, as I am sure we are just as curious about them. What might we say?"

"Something approximating the truth would be best," Colin decided. "We were, after all, a well-armed party that was clearly unsurprised by the sight of the Machine-Men." He glanced over at Ioseb, who was cheerily elaborating on the imaginary fight and laughing off Yasmine's sarcastic counterpoints. "And Yasmine, at least, knows something of who Kieran and I are. Perhaps..." He thought for a moment.

"Perhaps some element of the truth is best," he finally decided. "If pressed, we are representatives of the English and French governments, along with the Sinn Féin. All of us have separately encountered these Machine Men, and we are now pooling our resources to investigate further." He glanced at the Georgian, then back at Anne Marie. "It is close to the truth, and gives us reason to consider allying with our two Communist fellow-travelers."

"In your dreams, mate," Kieran shot back to Captain Drake, faking a glare as he felt a light flush creep up his face. Was this how women felt when men came onto them? Was he...? No. No matter what might develop in the future, Captain Shane steadfastly refused to be the woman in any sort of relationship. Still, it was sort-of nice with everything out in the open between them.

Anne Marie laughed as Ioseb insisted that he could say he had won a fight for her honor. "Of course such a leader as you could not lose a fight," she agreed readily, smiling though there was a knowing look in her eyes. She stepped aside with Colin and nodded as he suggested that they claim to be representatives on behalf of their respective governments. "Oui, this is a good plan. If you will stay here with them, I will find a public telephone and tell Bernard we did not take as long as expected. Oh...you may want to tell Kieran that I told Jugashvilli that my first name is Antoinette."

Within thirty minutes Bernard had come around to pick them up and brought them to a building with faded lettering in the middle of the city. Inside there were few patrons in the middle of the day. The five of them were met at the door by a valet, with whom Anne Marie quickly exchanged warm greetings and words of some strange-sounding dialect before he made a little half-bow and beckoned to Jugashvilli.

"If you go with Noor, Monsieur, he will ensure you are properly seen to before you join the rest of us," she informed him with a small smile. "This is a safe place, do not worry."

The other four were led to a private lounge where Anne Marie immediately made herself at home. A woman quietly entered to set up the hookah in the middle of a low table around which were set assorted comfortable-looking cushions. Anne Marie thanked her and tipped her before sitting cross-legged and taking up one of the five hoses.

"Don't worry, it is not anything that will intoxicate your brain," she assured the others with a smile. "I thought perhaps after such an experience a place to relax would be appropriate, and I have found that Ahman and his staff are very discreet when one would like to enjoy their privacy."

Kieran raised an eyebrow before shrugging and plopping down onto a pouf. "Try anything once," he said with a shrug. "Tend to avoid these things at least in the east. Too many lads I've seen out their minds. Opium, y'know." But he trusted Anne Marie enough and picked up a hose himself to take a drag.

Colin was a little more hesitant as he lowered himself onto a cushion and lifted a hose. "I... don't know about this. I've never even picked up a taste for cigarettes." He eyed the hose, then looked around the private room. "But still, this is a remarkable establishment. I'd say something stereotypical, like 'I didn't know it was here', but... well..." He shrugged. "I could honestly say that about most of Paris, really."

Yasmine, having selected a seat between Colin and Kieran, was less temperate. Lifting the hose she brought it to her lips and inhaled deeply. "Ah," she said appreciatively, a thin trail of smoke streaming from her nostrils. "This is good. And, may I ask what brought two dashing Captains and the bold and beautiful savior of Russian expatriates into the catacombs?" Another inhalation. "Not that I object in the slightest, but... well, it is a small world, isn't it?"

"The same thing, I suspect, that brought you and Ioseb down there," Colin replied.

She beamed at him, patting him on the knee as she did. "Oh, my... word games? I do so love word games." She looked from one Captain to the other, and then at Anne Marie. "I accept! I propose that in turn we each ask a question that the other must answer truthfully. Then, it will be the other's turn." She inclined her head towards Anne Marie. "And, as our hostess, perhaps you should ask the first question?"

"Do not worry, Captain," Anne Marie smiled, inhaling deeply before blowing several smoke rings. "The tobacco is flavored and I have never heard of shishe having any sort of health effects. It is for social purposes only, at least in these parts of the world."

She noticed Kieran's expression, however fleeting though it was, as Yasmine put her hand on Colin's knee. He was sitting between the two of them at the round table and the pirate looked as though he wasn't above knocking out a woman for daring to touch Colin. She hid her smile behind another draw from the pipe. As Yasmine declared her love of word games, both Kieran and Anne Marie couldn't help but look a little suspiciously at her before hiding their expressions. Instead Madame LaMonte smiled and inclined her head graciously.

"Very well. What were you doing down their with Monsieur Jugashvili, Yasmine?" she asked, polite but curious.

Hesitantly, Colin put the pipe to his lips and inhaled. A moment later, he was coughing. "Gyah," he managed. "People do this for fun?"

"Oh," Yasmine grinned, "I think it's amazing what people will do for fun. Particularly once they've admitted that it is fun." She leaned against Kieran, turning her head a little so she could look up at his face. "Don't you agree, my Second Captain?"

Colin gave her a dry sort of look, then tried the pipe again. This time, although it was clear from his expression that he wasn't sure what to think of the smoke, he didn't cough. "What... what flavor is this?"

Anne Marie, however, was more interested in Yasmine's 'game'. "Very well. What were you doing down their with Monsieur Jugashvili, Yasmine?"

"Why," she said, drawing on the hose, "we were running for our lives." Pursing her lips, she blew a single smoke ring and watched it drift upwards. And then she laughed. "I'm sorry - that's not really a fair answer, is it? To tell the truth, I don't quite know what Monsieru Jugashvili was doing down there. My brother..."

A look of sudden pain crossed her face, and she looked at the ceiling. "I accompanied my brother - I'd never been in the catacombs before, and I thought it would be a... what is the word? A bird of some sort. A wren, perhaps? I thought it would be a wren?"

"A lark?" Colin suggested.

"Quite, quite. We snuck away from a party of tourists. My brother followed directions he'd memorized, and I followed him. The whole way he told me about how he'd met some people sympathetic to the Cause, and that we'd soon be able to drive the French from Algeria." Her voice cracked, just a little. "I... listened to please him, I'm afraid. Politics bore me, really."

She sucked on her pipe. "We met a man, and those... clockwork men. My brother..." She fell silent for a moment. "They killed him. I don't know why. And then they... they were... going to make me... one of... them."

Another long silence. "And then Monsieur Jugahvili arrived, and pulled me out. I don't know why he was there." She forced a smile. "What about you? What brought the three of you there?"

"Passionfruit, I believe," Anne Marie answered Colin's question. "Native to South America."

Kieran looked down at the girl leaning on him and raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't amaze me anymore the things people will do for fun," he said lightly. "And I am second to no one, my dear." He threw a look over her head at Colin, much to Madame LaMonte's amusement.

Anne Marie blew her own smoke ring to drift through Yasmine's, smiling at the effect as she told her tale. Her smile dropped when she came to the part where the Machine Men had killed her brother. She leaned forward, however, at the mention of a man. Kieran did as well, though both pretended not to have much interest in him. When Yasmine asked her question, Anne Marie pulled on her pipe.

"Politics, I am afraid," Anne Marie answered with a grim smile. "The three of us, we are with our respective governments. Each country has dealt with these...clockwork men separately and we believe it may be part of a bigger operation, though we are not certain to what purpose." It was a semi-lie, but enough to hide that they knew more than they let on. "We were sent as a cooperative operation to investigate. You said you saw a man down there? A real man?"

Kieran looked down at the girl leaning on him and raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't amaze me anymore the things people will do for fun," he said lightly. "And I am second to no one, my dear." He threw a look over her head at Colin, much to Madame LaMonte's amusement.

"Oh, absolutely," Yasmine agreed, smiling prettily and running her fingers through his hair. She stole a glance at Colin. "By all means, go first." Glancing back at Anne Marie, she winked before answering her question and asking one of her own.

"Politics, I am afraid," Anne Marie answered with a grim smile.

"Oh, politics," Yasmine answered, sighing. "How dreadful."

"The three of us, we are with our respective governments. Each country has dealt with these...clockwork men separately and we believe it may be part of a bigger operation, though we are not certain to what purpose." Anne Marie gestured vaguely in the direction of the catacomb entrance they had used. "We were sent as a cooperative operation to investigate. You said you saw a man down there? A real man?"

"I don't know that he was a real man," Yamine countered. "Ioseb was, probably, the first real man I saw, followed by your delightful matched pair here." Her expression turned serious. "But... I believe he was entirely himself." A frown. "I... don't know if he had all of his parts, but he was very clearly speaking and directing. The... ah... Machine-Men you have been calling them? The Machine-Men certainly seemed to defer to him."

She puffed contemplatively on her hookah pipe. "How did you know where to look for them?"

Kieran sat stiffly glanced down at Yasmine as she ran her fingers through his hair. He didn't like his hair being touched without permission, and supposed Colin would find it all too amusing since he knew this. One captain glanced over at the other, daring him to laugh or say anything. The girl was getting quite obnoxious with her hints and teases, but he couldn't be rude to her without first getting the information they needed, and so he sat stiffly and quietly, puffing in an annoyed manner while the women gossiped.

Anne Marie, for her part, leaned forward with interest at Yasmine's description of this self-governing metal man. He was apparently not all flesh...but he was still human enough to take control of the others. Perhaps he was the inventor of these Machine-Men? She pursed her lips in thought, but sat back before answering Yasmine's question.

"It was not the first place we looked," Madame LaMonte lied. "But we have found them in similar places in other countries; skulking around large, dry areas away from the general populace. I suppose in a place like Paris, the catacombs would really be the only logical place." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Tell me more about this man, if you can. Did you hear what he said to the others? Did you see him doing anything unusual?"

"Did he do anything... unusual?" Yasmine considered that, then shuddered. Leaning back on the cushions, she stared at the ceiling and sucked contemplatively on her pipe.

"He was very much like the other... what did you call them? Machine-Men? Only he spoke, in a high, thin whisper. And his mask and his gauntlets were enamled in scarlet." She looked down, just a little, eyes meeting Anne Marie's for a moment. "Understand that I don't know how my brother met him. Only that my brother was ecstatic, saying he'd made arrangements to meet with someone who could help the cause."

"The Bolshevik cause?" Colin asked.

"Yes. But..." She frowned. "It was nothing like what my brother, or even what Ioseb worked for. The man - he called himself 'Le Roi des Démons' preached that a classless society could only be achieved through his... modifications. That his implants would remove desire, aspirations, all unnecessary emotions, leaving only a pure worker behind."

Yasmine sucked at the pipe again. "My brother protested, saying this was an abomination. Le Roi des Démons laughed at this, saying my brother would understand soon enough. And then four of those abominations grabbed him, strapping him to a table..."

She blanched and began shivering. "He screamed for such a long time, before... before, I think, they turned off his ability to feel pain. And then... and then..." She swallowed hard. "And then, it was to be my turn. And that is when Ioseb arrived, pistol in one hand and a Cossak saber in the other..."

Sitting up, she gave Anne Marie a hard look. "What does your government want you to do with Le Roi des Démons and his monstrosities, when you find him?"

Anne Marie carefully kept her face expressionless when Yasmine named the governing metal man, but exchanged a glance with Colin. Kieran didn't know French, but he could pick apart the name well enough to gather who they were dealing with. But the Devil Lord was supposed to be dead...unless another had risen up in his place? If so that was concerning, to say the least.

"I am very sorry for your loss," Anne Marie murmured sympathetically. "That must have been why Ioseb was down there as well. Do you know how it was your brother met him? If he was gathering Communist leaders like this, there must have been some sort of invitation or something; some sort of grapevine." She inhaled the smoke deeply, holding it a few moments before exhaling slowly. But then Yasmine demanded to know what the government wanted with these monstrosities.

"We have no idea," she smoothly lied again with an innocent shrug. "We are paid not to ask questions, but to get results. If this...'Le Roi des Demons', as he calls himself, is truly autonomous, however, I fear our leaders may be dealing with more than they had bargained for. But please, Yasmine, do not go looking for them again. They are very, very dangerous."

Colin perked up at the name Yasmine gave to the leader of the Machine-Men. The Devil King, the same as the name used by the madman Sam and Eric had confronted in Spain. He shot a glance at Anne Marie, who kept her expression neutral but was looking at him as well. "Quite a... theatrical name," he murmured.

Yasmine, lost in her thoughts and in her tale, didn't respond. Instead, she provided the terse outline of a horror story, describing the brutal torture and effective murder of her brother, and then how she'd nearly met the same fate.

"I am very sorry for your loss," Anne Marie murmured sympathetically. "That must have been why Ioseb was down there as well. Do you know how it was your brother met him? If he was gathering Communist leaders like this, there must have been some sort of invitation or something; some sort of grapevine."

"I'm afraid I don't," Yasmine answered. "My brother was far more of an activist that I ever was. I mean, I certainly supported the ideals of communism and socialism, but..." A shrug. "Not to this degree." Sitting up, she gave Anne Marie a hard look. "What does your government want you to do with Le Roi des Démons and his monstrosities, when you find him?"

"We have no idea," she smoothly lied again with an innocent shrug. "We are paid not to ask questions, but to get results. If this...'Le Roi des Demons', as he calls himself, is truly autonomous, however, I fear our leaders may be dealing with more than they had bargained for. But please, Yasmine, do not go looking for them again. They are very, very dangerous."

"Oh, you need have no fear on that regard," Yasmine shivered. "I have no desire to go looking for such monsters again."

Colin took another puff on his pipe. "We, on the other hand, probably should." He looked at Anne Marie. "We will, after all, need to know if that particular installation is still there. It would be wise, after all, to move after being compromised."

"I think, tovarisch," Ioseb announced, strutting into the room, "that you need have no fear of that." He clasped an ice pack to his right eye, and he was flamboyantly dressed in the garb of a Turk - clearly clothing on loan. Grinning madly, he dropped into the cushions next to Anne Marie.

"And why is that?" Colin asked.

Ioseb reached for a hookah and sucked thoughtfully, exhaling a long, thin stream of smoke. "To begin with, it did not have the look of a temporary, easily moved base of operations." He smiled. "And, I assure you, I have some experience with these things." Another puff. "But, more to the point, the operating theaters are complicated-looking affairs, and they have heavy steam boilers providing power. These are not things to be easily moved."

He waved a hand.

"No, my friends, I believe that your greater concern is that they will try to find and silence you, before you can move against them."