Ryan stood on the tarmac of the small airfield where they had landed, just outside Marseilles. He smelled the clean salt Mediterranean air, and leaned against the open door of the rented helicopter, double-checking his gear. His cobalt blue Draco Foundation uniform with its integrated body armor fit him snugly, though it was a little hot in the summer sun. His bandoleer of narcotic darts and his two guns rested in their proper positions. The Dragon Heart was nestled snugly in its sash.