Modern Day London, 2012

Stood by the large panelled glass walls, Freya DeGrey looked out over the London skyline, such a marvellous sight to behold on a day as fine as this one, with one hand place firmly on her hip the other played with her Tiffany heart necklace around her neck, for the first time in a very long time she felt apprehensive. This meeting had toyed with her mind all night, keeping her from getting much sleep, yet she didn’t know why, she sure as hell wasn’t scared or nervous over the prospect of being in the same room as a group of people who wouldn’t hesitate to end your life in order to gain even a fraction of her territory. Even if she were she was far too prideful to ever admit to it, tearing her gaze away from the view, she strode back over to her desk, sitting down on the plush chair, she leant back and closed her eyes for a moment “Miss DeGrey?” a timid voice came from across the room.

“What?” she asked sternly, eyes still closed. “Your car is here to take you to the meeting.” Opening her blue eyes Freya looked at her wrist watch with a small sigh “very well I shall down in a moment” she said dismissing her employee before standing up, picking her bag up off the floor to make sure she had all she needed, more importantly she wanted to make sure that her gun was fully loaded, she doubted that anything would happen yet it didn’t hurt to be prepared. Glancing quickly at her reflection in the mirror, Freya made sure that she looked impeccable, running her hands over her dress to smooth out any creases before grabbing her coat and bag and walked out the office.

The journey down from her office on the 47th Floor to the lobby was a quick one, her employees parted like the red sea as they walked towards her. To look at Freya you would admire her beauty and the elegant and graceful way she moved and acted could make you think she was a member of royalty, she didn’t look intimidating, yet that was before she spoke to you. She could instantly make you feel worthless with her vicious yet tactful tongue, the way her cold blue eyes bore into yours made you feel weak and useless. Yet to her employees she was deeply respected, many found her a generous boss and quite pleasant but only those who had worked hard, those who had slacked well let’s just say they were at the very bottom on the food chain.

Once in the lobby Freya was joined by two of her bodyguards, distinctive men with black suits, dark sunglasses and wireless earpieces, along with two handguns, hidden with gun holsters underneath their jackets, they were intimidating to say the least. As they reached the Bentley, one opened the door for her, closing it as she got in. Freya leaned forward to pour herself a glass of scotch on the rocks, as she sipped it she looked out of the blacked out window of the moving car at all the sights and monuments of London’s city centre until finally they arrived at Hawksmoor Guildhall . As one of her guards opened her door she stepped out onto the busy street and quickly into the building, upon entering she instantly noticed Gabriel Lockwood’s personnel scattered across the room, amongst the public, raising one of her perfectly sculptured eyebrows, at the fact he had brought way more than two guards, turning around “Mick you stay out here, Harry you come with me.” Mick immediately sat down at an unoccupied table and Harry flanked Freya towards the back. Harry had become her most trusted guard and so wouldn’t mind him sitting in on this meeting, she knew that he would protect her with his life if things turned bad.

As they reached the private dining room Freya felt her heart beat quicken slightly, yet her face and eyes remained focused on the door in front of her, opening it up, she saw Gabriel sat at the head of the table, a number of his men doted around the room, he certainly wasn’t taking any chances, yet who could blame him in a room full of gang members. “It appears I am first to arrive” she stated plainly, removing her coat placing it on the back of her chair, before extending her hand towards the man “Freya DeGrey” she introduced herself. Even if they were technically enemies, she was wise enough o know that it was better to be on Lockwood’s good side rather than the bad one, he could easily make her job extremely difficult with a click of his fingers.

Today had not been a busy day for Tristram Stewart. He had stayed late in bed, entwined in the red silk sheets of the four poster bed in the vast bedroom, which contained little except old edition books and paintings, and had risen at about noon. He had delegated all the work to his workers today, for he wanted to relax before the meeting later on. And so, after he had risen, he stayed in his silk pyjamas for most of the day, his hair ruffled and his yawns wide. Sitting with Nathan Pool for company in the main sitting room, again another room filled with old fashioned decorations and valuable antiquities, he spent most of the day chatting with his only friend, reading and sitting thinking about the meeting ahead. It would be wonderful to catch up with dear old friends, he thought, but he needed to be prepared. He decided he would take Nathan and his personal bodyguard, Christine, with him. Nathan, for obvious reasons, being his right hand, and Christine because defence was needed. He himself would remain unarmed, and he would take the least intimidating car with him. He would look entirely defenceless-it wasn't exactly unknown, unfortunately, that Tristram wasn't a brilliant physical opponent, and Nathan looked too like a businessman to look like a bodyguard, and Christine was a woman, and, however obviously demonstrable was the fact that women could fight as well as men, people always seemed to underestimate women-but he wouldn't be, for Christine was the equal of many a vicious fighter. Besides, he wanted to prove he could go without a big show. He was just that type of man, an obsessive with the need to prove himself.

Looking up at the grandfather clock in the corner-Tristram's thoughts immediately pondered the famous paradox for a slight second-he noticed it was time to go. "Well, Nathan, allons-y, as our friend Christine might say." Tristram got up, and went to get ready showering, adjusting his hair and, finally, putting on, instead of his usual dark tweed, a stylish yet understated black suit with a red tie. He ordered the driver to be brought round in one of the less expensive cars. As Tristram and Nathan stood waiting for Christine, who was to meet them here soon, outside on the house's large front steps, Nathan glanced at his superior with a smirk and spoke.

"She'll be here soon; is this the day you're going to break her illusion? Tell her that you don't love her? Put her out of her misery? She still thinks she has a chance, even though you've never shown the remotest interest."

With a devious grin, Tristram answered, "Oh no. I'll maintain the blindfold over the fool. She'll find out one day- when I have no need for her."

Christine arrived, dressed in a formal suit that looked restricting but wasn't actually, and allowed for flexibility. She was a beautiful woman and clearly dressed to impress. Tristram broke himself laughing mentally as he kissed her hand. "Shall we, Mademoiselle?"

With that, the small party entered the car that the driver had brought around. As they drove through Delta Bloc, Tristram glanced at the people. He knew the civilians would be protected in the coming conflict. Which was too bad...when he wasn't organizing large scale crimes, he indulged in a spot of murder every now and then. Sometimes you had to personally commit crimes. It was fun. Besides, these people were below him. They didn't matter.

Soon, they arrived at the restaurant and exited the car. "They've got the welcoming committed out for us..." muttered Pool as the trio walked through the public sector of the restaurant. "My dear fellow, how's the wife?" Tristram asked merrily to one of the guards. "Or, by the looks of you, should I say husband?" Before any answer could be given, and because he knew such a minor offence, a taunting of a guard, wouldn't be taken seriously when there was so much more to take account of, the trio continued on in to the dining room, and, with a smirk, Tristram whispered back to the guard, "take that as you will!" He turned around and entered the room, closing the door behind his party. He took a seat near the middle of the table, his party sitting on either side of him, and before he sat down he bowed to Gabriel. "Illustrious lord," he said in a reverent tone. Tucking his chair in, he smiled once more politely, at everyone who had arrived so far. He assumed his little bow wouldn't be taken offence to either. After all, Gabriel should know what he was like by now.

Gabriel had only been waiting a short while before the first leader came strolling through the door. He knew who she was already, having a full dossier on all of the gang leaders at his office at Battersea. As Ms. DeGrey entered the room, Gabriel stood to his feet bowing slightly to her as he flashed one of his charming, but devious, smiles her way. He watched the way that she carried herself into the room, shoulders square, eyes fixed, and a steady gate. She was a very confident woman who held very few on the same level as herself, but that understandable with someone of her stature. Gabriel took her hand, gently kissing the back of it before standing up straight once more,” It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Miss DeGray. As I am sure you are aware, I am Gabriel Lockwood and the gentleman standing around this building are my guarantee that no harm will come you while you’re in my company. Gabriel waited until she had seated herself before taking a seat once more.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
In The Main Restaurant
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The guards all watched as each leader walked through the main room of the restaurant. The guard whom Tristram talked to hadn’t been expecting to get addressed personally. And he already wasn’t in a good mood. Not only did he have to sit here and watch all these scumlords waltz through this building without being able to just put a bullet through their skulls, but now, he had to listen to them insulting him. David grinned wickedly for a moment, eyeing Tristram from behind the sunglasses that obscured his eyes from sight, he retorted. His low, gravely voice issuing from his throat in a rolling rumble,” Pretty little mouth like yours? I'll show you husband, Bitch.” Before offhandedly dismissing the bastard from his thoughts and going back to watching the rest of the restaurant.

Gabriel watched as Tristram and his entourage enter the room, smiling and bowing his head to them as they walked in and took a seat. Gabriel smiled at the man’s snide comment, chuckling a little bit,” You’d better not forget it, either, Tristram. Not while you're in my territory, at least. But, that being said, it it a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Both of you, please feel free to order any drinks that you might like while we wait for the rest of the personnel to arrive. They should be along shortly.” Gabriel leaned back into his chair slightly, looking over his shoulder to Dante for a second. The man made a quick nod to his commander before returning to his observations of the room.

The Prospect of Whitby was a small almost hole in the wall tavern that claimed to be the oldest riverside pub in London. Given that there were several other ‘oldest’ pubs within walking distance, Regina wasn’t inclined to believe that claim. However, that wasn’t the reason she was currently seated in one of the back booths, with a double whiskey in front of her, a crackling fire to the side; and a heavily armed bodyguard at a nearby table. Although the whiskey was excellent, Jameson, aged about 18 years, smooth but it still carried the proper burn.

Regina pulled a hand rolled cigaret from a monogramed case out of a jacket pocket. It was expensive, engraved with her initials. A gift from an old friend, one who had helped her get to where she was today. Such people should be remembered. Lighting the cigaret with a brief hiss of a match, taking a deep drag and holding it before blowing out a cloud of fragrant smoke. Flicking the ash off the end, she returned her attention to the woman sitting across from her in the booth, one Sonya Michell.
“So, the latest shipments have been distributed?”
Sonya inclined her head. “Yes. Mr. Hardin has made sure the armaments have been distributed, supplies are stockpiled and distribution of the usual items is on schedule.”
Regina nodded. “Good. We want to keep the confidence of our network, make sure that we keep any deals that we’ve made.” She took another drag, looking over a series of reports that Sonya called up on her tablet. Their voices were nearly drowned out by the music coming from the main bar, Flogging Molly if she wasn’t mistaken, along with the loud laughter of the people keeping the people behind the bar hopping. And from the window behind her and to the side she could hear the sound of the river Thames and the boats working their way up and down. As earlier mentioned, The Prospect had an appeal that had nothing to do with it’s tourist attraction and everything to do with it’s location.

There were of course other reasons she frequented the pub. In years past, it was a haven for smugglers and various other villains, which meant it had a number of . . . secrets. And she was quite good friends with the owner. What more did one need to consider when choosing a place to get ready for a meeting of her most powerful rivals?

There was a brisk step coming toward her booth, the lack of response from Lance meant that it was Shamus. He was on the short list of trusted people; The Prospect was one of her safe houses. There was a thunk as he slid a basket of pub fries and another drink towards her.
“Double, shaken with two ice cubes and a splash of water to get things started.”
Regina smiled up at her friend. “Aye Shamus, you always know what I need.”
Shamus cocked a hip and leaned against the side of the booth.
“You look like your planning something, Reggie. What’s going on?”
Regina sighed and leaned back. “You know that peace that the Lockwood guy has been enforcing for the past decade or so? The time of the original truce is up soon. So he’s calling a summit to try and lay down the law as to what’s going to happen next. So we need to figure out what we’re going to be doing next.”
“I say that we take special precautions to make sure that no one takes the river from you.” Shamus’s soft brogue carried a note of threat.
Regina grinned. “That’s why I like you, you always know where to focus your attention and what’s really important. But I’ve been reenforcing everything that’s truly important to me for a while now.”
Shamus nodded. “You want me to be following you to the meeting then?”
Regina thought for a moment and shrugged. “It’s not going to be much more than a cock waving fest, but you can. Nothing’s going to happen there, not with Lockwood’s goons out in full force. But it might be good to know what’s happening outside. Up to you really.”
“Aye, I think I can get a few of the boys along then. They’ve been itching to be out and about for a while now.”
Regina snorted as she took one last drag and stubbed the cigaret out. “Just don’t be the first to start something. Lockwood’s got to look strong, so he’s going to come down on the first troublemaker like the wrath of God itself. And I’d hate for that to be you, old friend.”
“Reggie, you seem to forget who my boys are.” Shamus looked wounded. “I’ll be sure to ask for forgiveness from the Father at the end of the night.”
“If you make it that far,” Regina wasn’t buying it. “God’s pardon does nothing for a bullet hole, remember that. Except to make it a bit easier to get through the pearly gates.”
At that Shamus nodded and returned to the bar, leaning over and speaking softly to the guy behind it. The other man nodded and turned around, grabbing a three foot long slightly curved staff off the wall, handing it to his boss; who then turned and headed into the back room. After about ten minutes he came back, sans stick. With a gleam in his eye, he grinned at Regina and announced, “It’s all taken care of, we can go whenever you’re ready. Should I be changing though?” he gestured at his current attire, worn jeans and a t shirt. Regina eyed her own extremely casual cloths and rolled her eyes.
“Why bother? Everyone else will be prancing about in their fanciest threads. If we dress up for them, they might start to think we give a damn about what they think of us.” With that she signaled to Lance, giving him a moment to get in front of her as she headed out. Shamus followed, grabbing a hat and over shirt from behind the bar as he went.

Regina headed out the door, flanked by Sonya and Shamus, nodding the the regulars who saluted her with their drinks as she went by. Waiting as Lance scanned the street outside, she glanced down at herself and smiled a bit. There was no doubt that everyone else would be dressed to the nines; while she herself was a bit more casual. A pair of neat black slacks, emerald silk shirt and long black trench coat. She didn’t believe in luxury purely for it’s own sake; but it was ok to have the nicer things in life. The ride out to the Black was uneventful, mostly because her people were quite good at their jobs. Like most things in her life, she didn’t care about appearance, but rather quality. Getting out of the car at the restaurant, she nodded politely at the man holding the door open for her. Looking over her shoulder, she could see Shamus pulling up to the curb in his truck, stepping out and leaning against it with what she could only describe as a shit eating grin. She smiled back and tipped off a small salute, knowing that if anyone started trouble out on the street, Shamus and whatever the hell he had stashed in that truck of his would end it.

Regina had to fight down a smile as she went down the hall to the meeting room, a bottle tucked under one arm. It was lined with heavily armed guards, all of them staring stoically ahead.
“Gentlemen.” she nodded at them as well. No need to be rude without reason. Lance entered the room ahead of her, scanning quickly and automatically evaluating the people already there for threats. Regina simply placed her bottle on the table and slid it down towards Gabriel. She nodded at the other heads of gangs already at the table and sat down towards the middle, Sonya sliding in next to her and Lance taking up a position behind her.
“A good aged double distilled Calvados. Got it in with my last shipment, thought you might like it.”

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(removed by original poster)

Today Skender was in a real good mood. He had made lots of money in betting on the match but more importantly Arsenal had just beaten the local rivals Spurs at a home match were he had the best seat in the house. He drove alone to the restaurant as he had given the rest of the day off to his driver after the match and he felt safe enough in this territory to leave his bodyguards at home. He parked front of one of the armored vehicles scattered about in front of the restaurant. He stepped donning his red Arsenal jersey which had the number 7 on its back and the name BARIS over it. He had left his weaponry in the car so he wouldn't cause confusion at the door. He strolled high and mighty into the restaurant and approached Gabriel to shake his hand.
"Sorry I'm late. You know match day traffic, closing the roads and rush at the stadiums..." Skender said to Gabriel.

Gabriel smile as he watched the next leader to enter and the small group with her. The only person to arrive at the meeting with a full compliment of personnel with her. Everyone else was arriving light. And the only person in the room so far not attending in formal clothing. He perked an eyebrow slightly to her outfit and that of her accompaniment, shaking his head slightly the faint hint of a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. Gabriel had expected something along the like. Regina was one of the few bosses that Gabriel worked with frequently and only because he wasn't able to control the Thames river himself without overstretching his personnel. So he made sure that he had a "working relationship" with Regina. He made sure not to trifle too far into her water traffic, and she made sure to do the same for him. It was a mutually beneficial agreement between them. Still, Gabriel had keept a sharp eye on the goings on on the Thames. Just because he didn't step foot on many of her boats, didn't mean he wasn't going to keep them in sight. Still, Gabriel rose to his feet as Regina approached the table, bowing slightly to her," Ms. Smith, good of you to join us tonight." He reached out and stopped the bottle as it came to a halt in front of him, picking it up and looking over the label for a second, the hinted grin finally forming full across his lips, "That's very kind of you. I will enjoy it greatly. The rest of the leaders should be arriving shortly, so the wait won't be long now."

And as if on que, one of the other Leaders joined the meeting. Gabriel chuckled a little bit at Skender's comment taking a moment to return the handshake the man offered, "Well, that's 'cuz most of the people are piss poor drivers in the first place. Then they go get rat arsed at the match and try to grope their way home without gettin' done in." Gabriel couldn't help but let his accent slip a bit. But he laughed and offered Skender a seat that was open nearby before taking seat himself. Skender was one of the men that Gabriel had the least information from. He knew the man was a smuggler and such and brought weapons into the city, but he was still a little in the dark about the full extend of his operations, Sam hadn't yet been able to devote as much time to Skender as Gabriel would have liked, but that would be remedied soon.

Gabriel sighed slightly, looking to those already gathered and smiling once more, "Well, while we wait, why don't get some drinks anyway. You'll excuse me if I wait to start me little shpeal until everyone has arrived, but that doesn't mean we have to sit here empty handed. Order whatever you would like, courtesy of my hospitality tonight."

In his seat, Tristram watched the newcomers arrive one by one. He ordered a drink for himself, Nathan and Christine. He tapped his finger slowly but regularly on the table. The noise was in the background, but quite irritating in this environment. When the drinks came, he stopped tapping and swirled the substance in the glass. He hadn't paid attention to what he'd ordered, but he drank it anyway. On discovering the horrible taste in his mouth he grimaced, then shrugged and got used to the taste. He knew it'd be on his list of favourites by the time he'd adjusted to it. He was good at that; adapting.

When Lord Charles entered, the room, Tristram paid more attention to him than to the others who had arrived, due to his status as a Lord. He watched him survey the room imperiously, and thought how much he now desired a cane like the Lord's. When he sat down and commented on Tristram's attire, he smiled politely back. It seemed his stylish but inexpensive suit had worked. "Thank you," he said, before returning to his glass. He listened to Regina speak and nodded in agreement with what she said.

"My business appears in The Guardian just about every week, so you might be able to pick up knowledge about my company from there, not from me. Besides, even people from your social class have education, so no doubt you will in fact be able to read it." he said, pronouncing everything with a high class accent, just to spite her. "And no, I won't be playing nice with him, neither with you. I'm here to hear what he has to say, and then I'll go back to doing what most you probably don't, working." he finished off, a thin sardonic smile creeping onto his lips.

"And as to whether I'm late or not, then you have to understand the fact that some of us are actually concerned with the state of this country, and are working hard to ensure that coming generations will prosper and not wither away in infected, drugfilled ratholes." Charles said, peeling his black leather gloves off his hands, placing them on the table in front of him.

He looked in disbelief as both Miss Smith and Gabriel began throwing their money at the waiter, to get them the most expensive wines on the card. He rolled his eyes skyward, not really into their childish game. But the more he thought of it, the more he just had to best them. In his mind he began running over the prize bottles in his personal collection. Plenty of 150 pound bottles, even running up to a 5500 pound bottle of champagne, which he'd been given by a wealthy friend of his in Scotland. The bottle was destined to be used when a new king of England was coronated, but until then, it was the prize peace of his wine collection. Not that he'd spent much time on it anyway, but the thought that he couldn't best them nagged at him, scrupulously beating his brain for an answer to the problem at hand.

Frankly, he'd never been very interested in wines, when he finally got to drinking, he chose rum and cola, a nice and easy drink, not the sour wines that were produced just about everywhere on the planet.
He was more into collecting ancient relics, continuing the collection which was started by his grandfather many years ago. sixteen hundred armors, a nineteenth century steam engine, various swords and guns, medals and emblems ranging from the early US Marine medals, to medals of honor and Iron Crosses. His own father had even started a roman collection, with the top prizes being a nearly intact set of armor and two of the recently recovered amphorae with olives and... wine.
Amphoras more than 2000 years old. Historical artifacts. But still sealed, with vinegar infused wine inside.

Charles grinned when he realized that he'd be able to beat them at their price race.
"Would you two stop wasting your money on unnecessarily expensive drinks, just to try and intimidate the rest of us. If you're so interested in squandering your money away, then be my guest! I have a 2000 years old amphora with Greek wine, the estimated price is 75000 pounds. Anyone interested?" he inquired sardonically, looking from miss Smith to Gabriel, and then proceeded to scan everyone in the room, challenging them.

Remaining silent, Tristram observed the proceedings with an air of nonchalance. He listened as Gabriel outlined what the meeting would be about, and Regina and the Lord's bickering. A working class chip on her shoulder, thought Tristram, a small smirk playing on his face. He had been born into a family of privilege...perhaps not a big one like Charles', but certainly one that had given him a head start in life. Until his foolish parents had lost it all and plunged them into near poverty. Forced to attend state school! How improper that had been. Still, he had built himself back up, clawed his way out of the dirt. And now he was here...surrounded by criminals and murderers, perhaps the worst people in the country, if not the world.

And he was one of them.

He flinched quite noticeably at this thought, but quickly recovered by coughing quietly and sipping his drink. Despite everything, there was still a part of him that reviled becoming what he was, reviled enjoying it, reviled the satisfaction it had given him. His hand was underneath the table, resting on his knee, and it began to shake slightly as he thought his thoughts, the dark thoughts that tended to torment him during the night, when the demons scratched and clawed and tore and ripped and shredded. Subtly, Nathan gripped his arm and Tristram came back to reality. He realised he'd very nearly let the mask slip. Stupid man, you stupid, stupid man! He only hoped his sudden slight turn had gone unnoticed. Besides, Regina was talking about piss, so proceedings were still normal.

Usually, he would have participated in the attempt everyone was making to outdo each other, but his thoughts had taken the moment and the opportunity.

He recovered himself and nodded a thanks to Nathan. Sighing loudly, he muscled in on the conversation, ignoring the Lord's offer, having only heard the word 'piss' involved with it. "I really do wish Madame Reece, or whatever it is that she calls herself, would hurry up. I have an appointment with the Sherlock Holmes boxset later. A bottle of wine, the DVD player and I. It really is a beautiful thing." His voice was playful and vaguely sarcastic; he was letting that side of him through tonight. However, his voice had faltered slightly in something you could equate to as disapproval, though disgust would be closer to the mark, when he'd mentioned Reece. He despised sexuality in general, and however disgusted he was at himself and the other criminals around the table, he reserved a special seat of contempt for Reece and her organisation in his heart.

"Oh, and Gabriel, I hope you know I think of you when watching Holmes. The hero against the evil criminals of London. How romantic. Honestly, my wildest fantasies involve you, a deerstalker and a murder in an old Victorian home." He sat back again, sipping his wine. Without looking at Nathan and Christine, he could tell the former was embarrassed deeply and the latter was rather offended. Tristram merely smiled happily.

"Of course. Just as those pesky socialists you choose to attack my heritage! Do you not think that I work every day, both in politics and in my own company? As I see it, I'm the only one in this establishment not involved in crime up to and over both ears!?" Charles said, pointing an accusing finger at Miss Smith.
"For all I know, those akin to yourself are only too happy to let those under you work hard and get the results. Shouldn't you be out there risking jail like them, getting all that junk of yours into London?"

For a second Charles leaned back in the chair, eyes closed as he killed any traces of anger at the petty woman before him. "And as to the wine, then of course it must taste like piss you imbecile. It was produced more than 2000 years ago, if it wasn't at least ruined by now then I think the price would've been a lot more than 75000 pounds!" Charles said, while fiddling with his tie-needle, caressing the diamond. He then raised his head with a smeared grin. "But are you sure that you wouldn't care to buy it? To tasteless plebeians like you, one bottle of piss should be just as good as the other, so why not just go for the most expensive one?" he said, his voice nearly dripping with poison.

Skender sat silently, watching the guests at the table as they talked and boasted about wine. He looked around the table, weighting the worst London had to offer. He smirked at these criminals acting all grand while they all like him belonged in the sewers. As much as he found this mildly amusing he had business to take care of. His phone had vibrated twice and no one called him the second time if he had ignored the first call unless something needed his attention. This meeting had proven to be more of a waste of time than anything and Skender already had wasted more time than he could spare.
"Gabriel if you have said all that you need to say then I'm going to excuse myself. I don't want to miss all the post match celebration." He said to Gabriel.

Reece was sitting at her desk listening to the latest financial report from Dom, absently watching the clock with slight impatience she needs to leave for the meeting soon. She turns back to Dom "Seriously we can do this tomorrow, I need to leave". At that moment Jon bursts through the door dragging a "business man" by his collar. "Reece, I caught this one playing meaner than usual with one of the girls".
She turns toward him, stands up and leans forward on her desk "who". Jon shoves him forward and says "Charlotte". She walks around the desk, looks at the man with disdain "take him below Ill see to him later, where's Charlotte now" Dom picks up the man and heads out the door with him, Jon turns to Reece, " I had one of the girls take her to the infirmary shes hurt pretty bad". "Damn, shes one of the new ones too. Wasn't he checked out. Never mind I don’t have time for this right now I'm already running late. Have Jo meet me in my office first thing in the morning with his papers we need to talk. Take me to Charlotte." Jon turns and heads down the hall Reece strides next to him. 30min later she leaves the infirmary telling Charlotte " I'll be back to check on you in the morning". She turns to the Dr. if there are any changes in her condition let me know immediately!".

Reece heads down in the elevator, and out the back to her personal garage. She walks over to the Night Hawk and speeds off. She's not used to abiding by others timetables but she would prefer not to piss Gabriel off, but nothing like being fashionably late, or annoyingly so.

She pulls up to the curb and hops off the bike, turns around when she hears another bike pull up behind her. She smiles as Jon gets off "didn’t think I was letting you come alone did you?" Reece chuckles to herself "well I guess I should have known but I figure Gabe has the place well in hand I'm not expecting in trouble today". Jon nods "yeah but you have a knack for finding it especially when your not expecting it just want to make sure your prepared". She pats her thigh holster "I'm always prepared" she says with a sly grin "I'm not a threat just a girl and all ya know". She turns fully to him "didn’t really have time to dress for the occasion ya know think I'll pass?". Jon discreetly scans her she looks as she always does, black lace up boots to the knee, black leather pants, purple corset, long black hair with a slight curl, black leather riding jacket. Jon smiles to himself and knows even if he cant see all the weapons strapped in different location only the Beretta is visible strapped to her thigh. She turns and walks casually through the door, spotting one of Gabes men she points in the direction of the back "private room" she says having been here before. He nods she throws him the full weight of her smile and gives a wink as she turns and heads that direction. Without stopping she walks straight into the room, pulls out the chair at the end of the table directly facing Gabriel and gives a nod and slight bow "I appreciate your patience work ya know" she addresses Gabriel directly not including the rest in her explanation and offering them no apology. She takes her seat, orders a whiskey straight, raises the glass to Regina "salute", and turns her full attention to Gabriel .