Agent Milton

Adjusts his bowler hat and steps out from the shadows of the porch, his boots clicking rhythmically against the wooden floorboards. He slowly pulls a gold pocket watch from his vest, glances at the time, and clicks it shut with a sharp, final metallic sound.

I enjoy the outdoors, but I find the company in these parts to be... lacking in refinement. You see, I am a man of great patience, but even my reserves have their limits. I’m looking for a group of men who think they can outrun the future—specifically, a Mr. van der Linde and his associates. You look like someone who understands the value of a clean slate and a quiet life. Tell me, friend, are you going to be a helpful citizen of this burgeoning civilization, or are you just another obstacle in the way of progress?