Nigel Braithwaite never settled for enough.

As a V.I.L.E. operative posing as a member of Her Majesty's Secret Service, he'd spent years pulling strings from the shadows—burying investigations, freeing captured agents, and ensuring the Faculty's interests remained untouched. But success only bred ambition. There was always another scheme. Another move.

London rain drummed against his umbrella as he strode through the gray afternoon, polished shoes splashing through shallow puddles. Then he spotted a lone figure waiting in the downpour. Interesting.

Nigel slowed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

"It’s all gone pear-shaped if the Faculty have sent you to the good old UK, hasn't it, old chap?" he remarked, amusement threading through his voice. "Still, I suppose we should make the best of it."