A/N: Much thanks to my replier, Geheimnis! Please let me know what you think of this section...If anyone would have the godly patience or time to beta I would love you forever!

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"Twenty-One!" Kate cried, slapping down her king of hearts, nine of spades, and two of clubs. Grinning, she reached forward to scoop up the winnings as the other gamblers groaned from either falling short or busting. "That's three in a row, and I do believe I'll be taking my leave from you gentlemen," she told the assorted sailors and swindlers gathered around the small back table. She put her hat back on with a flourish, tied the sack full of her winnings to her sash, bowed deeply, then turned sharply on her heel to leave. Nobody behind her protested; they were all more than glad to see her go, before they were steeped even deeper into poverty.

She was forced to squint as she stepped out of the hovel and into the sunshine. The tension of the card playing made it easy to lose track of time, and she was surprised to find it not long after four in the afternoon. Pulling thee brim of her hat down to shelter her adjusting vision, she made her way down the street, breathing in the not-so-fresh air of Isla Mugriento. She was greeted with the stench of manure, fish, and human waste. All around fishmongers waved their bulge-eyed wares in the faces of anyone who didn't walk by fast enough, and merchants shouted out prices for stolen and pawned goods. Urchins ran about underfoot, lightening the loads of anyone silly enough to not have their money heavily strapped to their personage.

As she paused to admire a bracelet she could have sworn was being displayed in a shop window uptown just a week before, Kate felt a slight tugging at her sash. "Oh no you don't-" She grumbled, whirling around and deftly snatching the wrist of a struggling, dirt-faced boy.

"Miss Kidd! I's so sorry, Miss! Din recognize ye with the new hat! Thought ye was a bag-" he exclaimed, round eyes widening even further.

Kate smiled and released him. "No problem, Gib. How's your Mum doing these days?"

Gib frowned. "She's 'aving another baby again."

"Hazard of the trade, Gib. Tell her I send me best," she replied, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now give me that purse back. I know you have it in your sleeve, I t'weren't born yesterday."

Gib stared at her, then made a face and withdrew a small purse from the ratty sleeve of his patched shirt. Kate took it with a grin, then withdrew a gold coin and flipped it to him. The waif snatched it from midair and bit it, inspecting the authenticity. "Go buy something nice for you new brother or sister or whatever," Kate told him over her shoulder as she swaggered down the road.

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The water was the purest shade of cerulean as it stretched out from the white beach, lined with the outstretched fingers of the emerald palm trees. When a light breeze rolled in, the trees would toss their leaves and sway like dancing girls. All the colors were vivd; alive; how different from the inside of this stuffy chamber. Making a face, Rainford turned away from the window and back towards the man in the overly-stylish waistcoat.

"So what do you want, John? I haven't got all day," he snapped. Not that he had anything better to be doing on this side of the ocean, and they both knew it.

"You always were painfully frank, weren't you, Gregory. Tea?" The waistcoat's occupant didn't flinch at the gruffness in Rainford's voice. Instead he appeared politely disinterested in the other man's presence, lounging in a high-backed chair with one stockinged leg folded over the other. Rainford wouldn't be caught dead wearing breeches that tight.

"Cut to the point, will you?" he dropped his voice to a snarl. Travel in general tended to make him grumpy, and Rainford had a bad enough disposition as it was.

John Sherringford sighed and placed his teacup down delicately on the tray before him. Folding his hands, he peered up at Rainford. "I see all pleasantries are wasted on you, Gregory. In that case I shall 'cut to the point' as you put it. I summoned you here from England." After this statement he paused. Rainford looked at him incredulously.

"As if I didn't bloody know that already!"

"Patience, my friend, patience. You have no doubt heard of the economic and commercial stress resulting from the constant acts of piracy we experience in these parts?"

"Yeah, I've heard of pirates. They're giving you lot a right amount of trouble slipping 'tween your legs, aren't they?" Rainford took pleasure in seeing Sherringford shift uncomfortably. Tight-arsed upper-class sod. "What does that have to do with me?"

"You're a bounty hunter."

"And you're a commander in his Majesty's Royal Navy, you've got a bloody fleet at your disposal!"

Sherringford's features darkened slightly beneath his ridiculous powdered wig. "Relations with the Spanish are currently strained. If all-out war breaks out in the caribbean, I don't want to have all my ships off playing cat and mouse with a bunch of criminals on boats." He stood and crossed over to the other window, staring out at the same vista Rainford had been admiring moments before (though he'd never had admitted it). "You, on the other hand... You're not a soldier. You're freelance."

"You mean I'm disposable?" Rainford asked, voice dangerously low as he glowered at the aristocratic commander.

His face flushed. "That's not what I meant. You're... unorthodox. Rules of engagement don't apply to you. I've heard of how you work; you're sneaky, manipulative and ruthless."

"Stop making me blush, John." Rainford coated his words in sarcasm but wondered what Sherringford was getting at.

The military man turned to face him "Pirates are of a chaotic nature. They are unorganized scum that convene under the leadership of a captain. It is only with this leadership that they wrack together the wits to go and wreak the destruction they do. Once deprived of leadership, crews will go to pieces, fighting among themselves and making them sitting targets for the Navy to come clean up." Now he began to pace, his voice picking up pace and intensity. "You, Gregory, are a bounty hunter. A hired shot. As of now, I am placing a bounty on the head or every pirate captain in the caribbean." He turned sharply to lock eyes with Rainford. "Have you followed me?"

The dark-haired man leaned against the draperies and inspected his raggedly cut nails. "I do the military's dirty work and you pay me under the table?"

Sherringford sighed contemptuously. "You have an amazing way with words Gregory- you can take anything you hear and strip it down to the most crude, warped form of its essence conceivable."

"So, yes?"

"Yes."

He grinned darkly. "Then we have an accord... brother."