by Chewy Walrus and The Eurostar
Geneva, Switzerland:
Geneva was well-known throughout the world as a center of finance, industry, and culture. It was known far and wide for its exquisite Swiss watches and equally ornate jewelry of all shapes and sizes. With a population of about 180,000, Geneva was a small metropolis compared to the hustle and bustle of New York City or Chicago. And that's just the way that Johnny liked it.
Jon Wilkes had grown up in New York City as a boy. And, with the city's current population being over twenty-one million, Wilkes was kind of glad to get away from all the bustle. Plus, Europe was a much better place for him to start a business venture. And that was just what he'd done.
Under the pseudonym of Johnny Omicron, Wilkes, a graduate from Columbia University with a business degree, founded an organization known as Project Omicron. His goal in this endeavor was to work as a legal A-Team, hiring the services of himself and his employers out to the top firms to accomplish jobs that even professionals couldn't do. Wilkes had been in operation for a few years now and liked the bulk of work he was getting as well as the camaraderie with his employees, who ranged from the socially deviant to the independently wealthy. He prided himself on knowing people and on having people to fit just about every situation he could ask for. That was the strategy Wilkes used with Project Omicron, and it was a strategy that worked.
Johnny sat in his penthouse apartment looking down at the streets of Geneva -- at the low-scale hustle and bustle -- and sighed a contented sigh. His workers would be arriving soon for their debriefing. The first day of the new year, and already Project Omicron had received a job, and a profitable one at that. This looked as though it could be easy money for Omicron. And that's just the way he liked it.
Over the next twenty minutes, the members of Project Omicron filtered in one by one. First came the acrobatic gunslinger X-Acute, followed by the seven-foot Cyclops named Arges, who carried both his axe and hammer in hand. The girls showed up next: Xyber, the living computer program (via Wilkes' cable modem), and Rose, the former assassin. Next entered Mimic, the master of disguise, with the enigmatic Sheik almost right behind him. Finally, after a few more minutes of waiting, a gust of air blew open a small window, and with it, the ethereal Pneuma wafted into the room, taking a seat next to the Sheik.
"Well, it's good to see everyone here today on such short notice. Happy New Year, by the way," Wilkes said, leaning back in his chair. "Can I interest anyone in a drink before we get started?"
"Have you got any ambrosia?" Arges grunted. "I'll take mead if you got it, but I'd really prefer a nice ambrosia. Haven't had one o' them since I was back on Olympus."
Wilkes smiled. "I do have some mead over at the bar. My apologies, Arges, but my private vintner hasn't quite gotten the concept of ambrosia down yet."
Arges grumbled something under his breath as he made his way to the mini-bar. Mimic followed, taking a glass of champagne, and X-Acute brought back two beers for himself and Rose. Everyone else declined drinks.
"All right," Wilkes said, a smile spreading across his features, "let's talk about this job. Sheik, Arges... keep your ears open on this one. Sounds like something you guys would really go in for." The Sheik arched his eyebrows as Arges leaned his elbows on his knees and lifted his stein of mead to his lips.
"It's something called the Liber Vitae," Wilkes said, reading the reactions from Sheik and Arges. Arges tilted his head forward waiting for more information, while the Sheik arched his eyebrows in surprise. "Sheik? Something you want to share?"
"I have heard of this book," the Arabian oil baron began. "It is said, according to English tradition, to have been a text written by the historical Merlin, an archbishop, as opposed to the Merlin of British legend. I have heard that it was a magical text lost many centuries ago."
"Around the twelfth century, to be precise," Wilkes said, nodding. "From Canterbury, England. It appears as though our employer is a book collector who wants to add the Liber Vitae to his collection."
"Who is this guy?" Mimic asked, taking a sip from his champagne glass. "Anyone we may have heard of?"
"He wishes to remain anonymous, which is usually fine by me," Wiles said. "I had Xyber run some background checks to see if she could get any sort of bead or trace on the guy." Johnny Omicron then turned his attention to Xyber, whose digital image was being supported by holographic emitters that had been strategically placed around the room.
"Haven't found anything yet, Mister O," Xyber said, shrugging her shoulders. "However, I was able to hack into the Uffizi Museum security system as you asked. The jpegs are on your hard drive under my usual storage folder."
"Thank you, Xyber," Omicron said, typing away on the laptop that say on his desk. Within minutes, pictures from the security cameras within the Italian Uffizi Museum were on his screen. Punching a few keys, a big-screen TV mounted to the wall of the office came to life. On it was an ornate painting of a man.
"This," Omicron said, rising from his seat, "is Joaquim de Cuccubao, a renowned Portuguese explorer. It was painted by Cuccubao's personal artist, Tanfo de Perugia. If you'll look carefully at Cuccubao's hands, you'll notice a book with Liber Vitae on the spine."
"And what does that mean, exactly?" X-Acute said, taking a swig of his brew.
"It means that Cuccubao, at one point in time, owned the book," Omicron said, arching his brow.
"How do you get that from that?" the acrobatic gymnast asked, placing his beer on a coaster beside him. "For all we know, de Perugia could've just painted him with the book!"
"Actually," Pneuma whispered from his seat beside Sheik, "in the time in which de Perugia and Cuccubao lived, a painting was the closest thing there was to a photograph. For de Perugia to paint that book would mean that he would have had to see it... which means that Cuccubao actually owned it."
X-Acute furrowed his brow and nodded. "Makes sense to me," he said finally, looking back at Omicron.
Johnny smiled, cleared his throat, and continued. "Cuccubao was the leader of an expedition through Brazil in search of El Dorado, the lost city of gold, for the Portuguese crown. However, de Perugia was the only survivor of said expedition. He claimed to his dying day that Cuccubao never found the city of gold."
"Where's the book, though?" Arges asked simply, getting up and heading to the mini-bar for more mead.
"Well, that's just the thing," Omicron said, smiling. "No one really knows. Now, there's a few places where it's rumored to be, but no one really knows for certain. My guess is that's the reason why our employer hired us to find and bring in the book. My guess would be that it's with Cuccubao's body, somewhere in Brazil."
"Wait..." X-Acute said, raising his hand. "You said de Perugia was the only survivor of the expedition that Cuccubao went on. Maybe he took the book with him. Where did he go once the expedition was over?"
"Italy," Omicron answered. "In fact, it was de Perugia who founded the Uffizi Museum, where his painting of Cuccubao currently resides."
"Could it be at the museum?" X-Acute asked, finishing off his beer.
"It's possible," Omicron said, rubbing his chin. "Listen, my notes say that there's something in this painting that could give us a clue as to the book's whereabouts. Look at all this stuff in the background. The temples, mountains... that flying thing. What is that?"
"A dragon?" Sheik offered.
"No such things as dragons," X-Acute said, rolling his eyes at Sheik.
"Not so sure about that," Omicron answered. "Catholic saints have to perform three miracles to reach sainthood. A lot of them are cited as having slain a dragon for one of those miracles."
"So, you're thinking that this place is in Brazil?" Arges asked, rubbing the bags under his eye.
"It's a good possibility, but I'm not gonna rule out X-Acute's Italy suggestion," Omicron said, making his way back to his desk. "Besides, there are liable to be some curators at the museum there that can give us a hand. Xyber, I want you to book us some reservations on a private plane to Italy out of Geneva. Five seats. I want Rose, Arges, X-Acute, and Sheik to go with me on this one. Mimic, I want you on the next flight to Washington, D.C. Hit the Library of Congress and get everything you can. Bring your camera." Omicron winked at that remark. "When you're done with that, meet us in Italy with whatever you find. Pneuma, you and Xyber will be working the phones on this one. I want anything you can find me. I want Internet. I want speculation and hearsay, word on the street. Get me all of it. We'll rendezvous in Italy at the end of the week, collaborate and share information. Everyone got me?"
Rose nodded silently, taking a swig of her beer and then resuming cleaning out her gun. Mimic rubbed his bald head as a smile appeared -- quite literally -- on his blank face. Arges grunted his assent as he went back for his third stein of mead. X-Acute nodded and pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes. Xyber vanished from sight and back into Omicron's laptop, busying herself with finding airplane rentals. Sheik nodded also, steepling his fingers in front of his face. Pneuma whispered a yes as he wafted over to have a chat with X-Acute about sixteenth century art.
In his chair, Jonathon Wilkes smiled. Money in the bank, he thought to himself. This case is money in the bank.
Somewhere in the United States of America, Clive Collins looked at a file on his computer titled Liber Vitae. He first heard about it from the mage Aurochs when the old wizard was at his services.
Months had passed since that strange and powerful man left, and Collins had lost track of him, but he had been conducting his own research on the ancient tome. No one knew where the book was, but he had secured the services of the best men on Earth to find it. It would cost him an absurd amount of money, but he was confident that the book would arrive on his desk, and with it unlimited power.
New Orleans, Louisiana:
"And what does it mean, Luciano?"
"The book of life, Frank."
"And you say that shit can make us powerful?"
"Powerful? It will make us gods!"
"Frankly, I don't think I believe in all this merda."
"Picciotto, when you need the zombies, you believe in what my friends can do, right?"
"Mmm. Point taken. So, where is this book?"
"Nobody knows."
"Hey, Luciano, non mi fare incazzare. How would we get the book if nobody knows where it is?"
"I have just taken care of it. Trust me, and sign that check."