A man had come to Paris - a man of note. Silhouette were the first to know, of course, as they were with most things in Paris these days. Though the name 'Silhouette' was not one often heard - they were Illuminati now. Order had been restored to the streets - they had been part of that, as well as some other old associates Everett had whistled up, although in truth people were giving up on violence and going home anyway - they just needed leadership. That the Illuminati were more than willing to provide, though of course not openly.
The man's name was Tracer Tong, and he was an associate of JC Denton. JC Denton was a name often heard among those who had been Silhouette - a name spoken in anger and hatred, a name to blame for the chaos. The name of an ally betrayed; for hatred is always easier than admitting guilt. Tracer Tong had arrived in an unknown helicopter, which had departed without him, and made his way into the city on foot, apparently alone. The Illuminati knew all this because the Mayor of Paris was theirs. He did not consider himself so, of course; the man was both a patriot and a decent man, one of courage and vision who had been imprisoned when the city was under martial law. But in times like these access to cameras was a small price to pay to the people whose technicians had rigged up many of the old systems into a working network of cameras with even a couple of working bots, especially when this security network which was all that allowed him and his new gendarmes to keep any semblance of order.
Tracer Tong came to a sewer access in the middle of a deserted street and opened it, climbing down into the tunnels. This caused some consternation among those Illuminati watching his progress, for the access should have been sealed beyond anyone's ability to open without heavy equipment. The sewers were the Illuminati's strength, their secret and jealously guarded highway, yet in them they were blind - though soon they would have cameras and other security even there. For now, however, Tracer Tong walked unimpeded through the claustrophobic underworld. Warnings were circulated, weapons were readied and a search party prepared to scour the sewers - when he knocked on their door. Tracer Tong had come directly to the place that was both the heart and nerve centre of the rulers of Paris, the original econd world war bunker they had hidden in when they fought the old rulers in the night.
Men and women grabbed weapons and took up firing positions around the exit. Nicolette wondered if that was really necessary, but little that happened these days made sense to her. She wondered why she stayed, but she could not face her old house again - if it too had not been looted - so she had nowhere else to go and no other friends. So she had wandered the bleak concrete halls like a ghost of the past while all around her the living were seized by new energy and new purpose.
The door of the bunker opened with a dull grinding of aged motors, and a lone man stepped through to meet the accusing gun barrels pointed at him various pieces of cover. He was short; obviously of asian descent and although hos face was pocked with the marks of the grey death he moved smoothly and easily. His clothing was, Nicolette could not help but feel, painfully nondescript.
"I am Tracer Tong. I wish to make an offer to you all, on behalf of JC Denton"Chad stepped from the shadows which had concealed him.
"Then let's talk. I'm sure we have a very great deal to discuss."