Against the setting sun of Verdantia, a country that was known for it's all year round summer with about hundreds of islands, a tall man walked down the dusty road that led from the city to the quiet docks, a newspaper and several documents in his hand. As he headed down the island pier, he spoke to none of the men who were working to upload their cargo from the ship, and none of them spoke to him, but several pairs of curious eyes followed the stranger toward his private yacht that had been on shore for weeks, it was a ferretti yacht 1000, which they'd never seen nor come close to touching in their entire life.
One glance at the yacht, and you'd know the owner was not someone of their class who they'd dare mingle with even though they'd seen him around for the past week. One thing that also stood out from the brand new yatch, was the painted words on it. It had the name MIA boldly stenciled on the stern in fresh purple expensive shinny paint.
