For supper, Rip met with the members of his new team in a back room at Tomfoolery’s, the pub near Doctors’ Commons catering to RVS members.

To his right, Lady Blair Brooke sat smiling. Heir to the Brooke family fortune, she outranked him in nobility, although her family was also nouveau riche.

To his left sat the infiltrators Robert Chance and the man known as Twig. Rip realized he did not know Mr. Twig’s first name. For that matter, he did not know if Twig was his last name, or simply a nickname.

Deciding that maybe that was something a team leader should know, then deciding to worry about it later, he looked across the table at the Veraz sisters.

Back in his world, these two would be considered bombshells. They could easily get jobs in Hollywood or as models. The fact they were vampires, though, threw a wrinkle in their good looks.

Rip was an understanding sort, as had been their previous leader, Lord Sharp. Idly, Rip wondered if any other team would have them, if they knew their true nature.

In return for saving them, they had bestowed some seriously useful skills on him. Right now they laughed and participated in conversation, as Twig regaled the table with a tall tale about an adventure of his in Berlin some years ago. Rip noticed the sisters nibbled at their food, but otherwise avoided it.

When the waitress delivered the last platter, he stood and made sure to pay her away from the table, sparing the two vampires the sight of silver.

They were not big on public participation like this, coins being one of the reasons. He hoped to change that, if they were to be part of his new team.

When he sat back down, he said, “So, I presume we all want to stay together. We will need to come up with a name.”

Twig gulped down the last of his ale and said, “Coulter’s Cavalry.”

Chance said, “We don’t ride horses, genius.”

“And you weren’t really Bandits under Colonel Bixby, were you? It’s not the action implied, it’s the name. And . . . alliteration.”

“Not all teams have alliterative names,” Blair pointed out.

“Name one,” Twig said.

She stared at him for a moment.

“Well, I can’t on demand. If you hadn’t asked me, I’m sure I could rattle off three or four.”

“See? They’re not memorable.”

Chance said, “It’s not the name that makes the team memorable, it’s their exploits. Bixby’s Bandits will always be remembered for finding the otherworlder, and helping stop the robot invasion of Ethinium.”

“And, for their alliterative name,” Chance said with a smug note of satisfaction in his voice.

Rip noticed the Verez sisters smiling and following along.

He said, “What do you two think?”

“Oh, English is not our primary language, Ripley,” Hilda said, drawling the words out languorously.

Both she and her sister smiled at him.

“Yes. Maybe you could give us some private lessons sometime?” Liza said with a coy look.

Blair leaned over, blocking their view of Rip with her own face, glaring.

As if a spell was broken, they looked down at their plates and suddenly became interested in the food again.

“How about Ripley’s Rangers?” Blair said, steering the topic of conversation back into safe territory. “It’s alliterative, and I don’t think anyone else is using ‘Rangers.’”

“That’s not his last name,” Chance said, frowning.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“All the RVS teams have the leader’s last name and something alliterative.”

“Well, he’s not a lord or high-ranking nobility,” Twig said. “He’s just a knight. Using his first name would certainly denote his lower status.”

“We don’t have a lower-class team, though. I wager we could kick the arse of any other team out there, especially with them two on our side.”

Chance pointed at the Veraz sisters, who looked up smiling.

“Thank you, Bobby,” Liza said. “Did you say you are married?”

Blair said, “Stop it.”

“It just gets so lonely in the big city, Lady Brooke,” Hilda said. “You wouldn’t know.”

She shifted her eyes to Rip and back.

Blair didn’t blink.

She said, “I’m sure there are some members of the royal Hungarian court in town who would love to keep you two company.”

Rip noticed both vampires blanch, their faces growing even whiter if that were possible.

They both returned their attention to the food once more, but not before sharing a glance with one another. Rip thought it held an unspoken comment, maybe something along the lines of this new team not being as much fun as they thought it would be.

Still, Blair had saved their lives too. What had been a completely frosty relationship thawed considerably after their combined exploits down in the Ethinium steam vault.

Liza looked up and smiled at Blair.

“We’ll be good, Lady Brooke. But I hope this team is active. Lord Sharp always made sure we had plenty to . . . eat.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that will be a problem, with Darhaven especially,” Rip said, leaning back in his chair. “Okay. We’ll go with ‘Rangers.’ If people want to stick ‘Ripley’ in front of that, that’s fine, too.”

“And so, the Rangers are born,” Chance said, raising a glass. “Hear, hear.”

Twig said, “Not quite as pleasing to the ear as ‘Sharp’s Swashbucklers,’ but I’ll take it.”

He lifted his glass along with everyone else and they clinked around the table.

Twig and Chance downed their drinks in a single gulp. The vampires took dainty sips and grimaced, expressing dissatisfaction at the “liquid plants.”

Rip and Blair took a normal sip and smiled at each other.

“‘Rangers’ sounds fine,” Blair said. “And, as you noted, our exploits will be the important thing.”

“No, the important thing is how much money we make,” Chance said. “Not all of us have a relationship with the famous Dr. Colfax. Who is that bloke, anyway? I’ve never heard of him before his petroleum jelly and toothpaste came on the market. Now you can’t open a newspaper without seeing his smiling mug on every other advert.”

“He’s a marketing fiction.”

“A say what, now?”

Rip sighed and tried to think up the best way to explain marketing.

Before he could start, Blair jumped in.

“Marketing is essentially lying to the public in order to sell them your product.”

He looked at her and frowned.

She said, “What? I’ve been paying attention. Is this not correct?”

“Yes, but . . . it helps if the product really is good. You may say on your sign, ‘Best burgers in town,’ but if they’re not good, the marketing won’t help.”

“So, it’s lying for the common good.”

He tried again.

“It’s creating a narrative to portray your product to the public in a positive light, in hopes people will buy it.”

“Lying to sell.”

“It’s more nuanced than that . . .”

“So, you’ll introduce us to Dr. Colfax?”

He sighed again, and gave up.