Striga Island

Will checked his gear one last time before heading back up to the deck of the freighter. It was tough, turning down such a lucrative offer, but this job... it just sounded too dangerous. Escorting some socialite with super-powers and a temper around the Rogue Isles? No explanations. No specific goals. Sure, he'd worked for her on other jobs, but this... no, it was better he turn it down and go back to Venezuela. Maybe the political unrest was heating up again.

He went up near the front of the ship, his favorite spot when a ship was about to leave port. Standing nearby, already leaning against the rail, was a rather unremarkable young man wearing a gray, travel-worn cloak. Some decorative symbols traced the edges of the cloak, or Will wouldn't have given him a second glance. As it was, he watched the stranger out of the corner of his eye as he took his spot at the rail.

"Nice weather out here on Striga," the stranger remarked, apparently deciding conversation was called for.

Will grunted. Why does everyone talk about the weather? he thought. "'Sallright, I guess. Be nice if it rained once in a while, though."

"Aye," said the stranger. "From your lips to the Powers' ears."

With a sudden move that was obviously supposed to look casual, the man in the cloak turned toward Will. Will's hand was on the pistol he kept hidden under his jacket, but something stopped him from actually pulling it.

"I'd like to make you a business proposition, friend," the stranger said casually. "See, you're about to turn down a business proposition from a friend of mine, and I'd like the chance to change your mind. I'll compensate you for the time spent listening to an old man's chatter even if you decide afterward that you're not interested."

Will was wary, but something put him at ease at the same time. Maybe the fact that this twenty-somethingish kid was calling himself an old man. "Okay," he found himself saying, "I'm listening."

The stranger smiled and leaned sideways against the railing. "The contract that Fyre Hex is offering you is important to me. She needs a guide in the Rogue Isles, 'tis true. Someone who can put the right... face on her visit there. Someone who knows those islands and who can deal with the... element found there. Without setting them on fire." The stranger chuckled.

"Oh, I agree," Will replied, letting his hand slide from his pistol, "but it sounds like too dangerous of a job for me. Even for the pay she's offering."

"What if I sweeten the deal?" the man asked. "Not just in the way of more compensation, but something to make the job safer?" He pulled a pair of sleek high-tech-looking gauntlets out from under his cloak and showed them to Will.

"And what are those supposed to be?"

"Solid energy projection gauntlets," the man said simply. "Advanced technology, even for the plane I got them from. Added to the weapons and men you already have, they ought to give you an edge over anything you run into in the Rogue Isles. Or anything that might... come up."

Will's eyes narrowed, but he was itching to try the new weapon out and took a step closer to the other man. "What did you say your name was?"

"They call me 'the vagabond', and I'm a friend of Alexandra Kelly."

Will glanced up at the man's face, seeing a flicker of silvery light in the man's eyes. "All right, vagabond," he said after a moment. "Let's discuss terms."