Wanderer 2.0, Book 1 Of The Wanderer Series

An Unexpected Introduction

Sandy hair curls shortly on his head and his cerulean blue eyes glint at Hennessy as they pass over him. He's tan, though naturally pale, from all his expeditions in his favored continent, Africa. A beautiful man with a love for women all around, he's the male counterpart of Gabriella.

Hennessy turns his attention to the rooftops where the last two of their company hides, boss lady included. On the east side tower, high above all, crouches Nightshade. Even Hennessy can't catch sight of him though he knows he's there. Nightshade is an enigma to most of the group. None but their boss knows much about him. Only that he either refuses to or can't speak and that none have seen his face except for their leader.

He wears slim fitting and flexible leather armor at all times, black as night and perfectly fit for an assassin such as he. His entire head is covered in a full mask, hiding even the color of his eyes. Hennessy suspects he's from the orient because of his choice in weaponry, but really it's all speculation. He's not even sure if 'Nightshade' is his real name or just something he chose for his grotesque and morbid obsession with poisons.

Nightshade prefers only the boss for company. She alone he follows and obeys. For her, he kills without hesitation and slithers amongst the night to abide her biding.

Hennessy turns to the shorter tower across the way from Nightshade's haunt. It's where their boss lady is camping out. Callaia Sosa is a force to be reckoned with. Wild and untamed yet beautiful and loyal to a fault. No man, or Gabriella, under her command hesitates to follow her. She's reckless, her plans are often high risk, and she's relentless in her pursuits. Once Callaia sets her mind on something, it's a done deal.

That being said, each on their team will follow her to the ends of time. She gets them out alive every time with mostly successful results. She requires no worship or praise from her comrades like many leaders Hennessy has worked under, only to fight beside her just as fiercely as she does. She expects results yet doesn't fuss over the technicalities, always encouraging improvisation and ingenuity. She's the kind of woman a soldier would want at his side, to trust to have his back and pull through. She's the comrade a soldier in danger would never doubt to fight hellfire and an army to get them out alive, even if it means she'll take her last breathe doing so. She trusts her team and in turn, they trust her.

She's absolutely hopeless at paperwork though. Not very fond of diplomacy either. Or dogs. She has a weird thing about dogs none of them really understand.

Hennessy gets it. Well, he gets everything except the dogs. She's not ashamed to divvy out details about her life, wearing her worst parts as armor. She has good reason to be so guarded. She's exceptional at her talents though. He's never met another in all his military career with such an eye for hitting her mark.

When she aims, there's a dead man waiting at the other side of her singing bullet.

His ear piece crackles before the lady herself speaks," Everybody in position and at the ready?"

Her voice is resolute and unwavering, a sultry dulcet that soothes like satin snaking across Sahara sands. Hennessy can practically feel her pale icy blue eyes looking over his hideout before moving on to the other's positions.

"Aye." Declan drolls under his breath, his thick accent slurring his words. "Be nice ta have a fag though."
Benedict snorts, his cheery voice ringing heavily with his own accent," You smoke enough as it is."