Baptiste (What You Left Behind)

He collected the disc and hobbled toward one of the remaining vessels, a luxury yacht docked at the far end of the pier. It had The Sainclair painted across its stern in bold, flowing script.
It was easy to cut through the rope and yank the charging cord out, and easier to hotwire the engine.
As Baptiste took the wheel, he looked over his shoulder. The wharf was empty, no Mauga or mercenary troops in sight.
“So much for a vacation,” he muttered. The yacht pulled away from the pier and out to sea, guided by his expert hand.