This is a story for anyone who read the three books from the first Ravnica set. For those of you who haven't, Agrus Kos and Feather are canon characters and played a major role in those books.

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"I'm headed down to the market." Gideon called, his words echoing through the gatewatch headquarters. "Anyone want me to pick something up for them?"

"Get me a couple of smoked lavacakes." Chandra voice answered from somewhere on the upper level.

"Sure!" Gideon called back.

"You do know we could send get the Azorious to fetch groceries, don't you?" Lilliana asked archly. She was standing over Jace's shoulder and examining the papers the mind mage was scribbling furiously on. "Just tell them Jace requires it, he's basically their god now."

"God of paperwork, certainly." Jace mumbled, shoving away a pile of papers thicker than Gideon's biceps with an exhausted sigh. "Besides, a grocery acquisition request would probably require three separate forms filled out in triplicate." He gave a mournful look at the fresh pile more than twice the size of the last.

"Don't worry about it, Jace, I like going outside." Gideon said, easily ignoring Lillianna's disgusted look.

Gideon stepped away out onto the street and took a deep breath of Ravnica's… well, not exactly fresh air—the plane of cities didn't much go for that—more like… well-used air, air that had had gotten around, air that had seen things. It smelt of smog, of flowers and stone, and a thousand other scents intermingling in the bustling world of life and clamor that was Ravnica.

Gideon set off, humming to himself as walked the streets. He wasn't too concerned about pickpockets, most people on the streets either recognized him or at had at least heard about him. His leading the Boros in the battle of the Ninth District and living to tell about it certainly made your everyday thief think twice before slipping a finger in his pocket.

His reputation also helped him get through the crowded bustle of the city of cities, the people parting before him like water on a rock. He enjoyed the space, it gave him a chance to observe the people of Ravnica.

Gideon had been to dozens of planes, seen countless things that dropped his jaw and left him humbled by the wonder of the multiverse. Ravnica itself might not be the pinnacle of beauty, but the sheer diversity of its citizenry always took his breath away. Humans, goblins, elves, merfolk, even the occasional elemental were walking the streets, and they weren't even the half of it. There were minotaur and ogres, giant horned beasts of burden carrying countless crates and covered in ropes as they were led by giants down the center of the street, and other, far less identifiable, creatures of every shape and size ambled, lurched, or flew through the air in a swirling mass of life.

And then there were the colors. Most of Ravnica's denizens belonged to one guild or another and wore their colors proudly. The white and gold trim of an Orzhov cleric, the brilliant reds and blues of an Izzet chemister, the scarlet and black checker pattern of a Rakdos harlequin—all the colors blurred together in glorious mess that assaulted the eyes and confused the mind.

It was always a little strange, seeing such differences so close together. On any other plane, Gideon would expect such a mix of races pushed so close together to result in immediate, all-out war. But here they all were, living together more or less in relative harmony.

Of course, Gideon had no doubt there were countless acts of violence happening behind closed doors and in the darker side alleys. But out here in the streets, most kept to themselves and tried to get on with their lives. Greater conflicts were almost exclusively limited to inter-guild squabbles; which could get quite vicious, as he knew first-hand—but that wasn't the same as outright war.

Was it this diversity of people that seemed to draw planeswalkers to the plane? It made a certain sense. You could step into the streets of Ravnica dressed in the most ludicrous things, robes from far away words and otherworldly material, and you would still blend into the crowd. It was comforting.

"Gideon Jura."

Gideon paused midstep, turning his head at the sound of his name, then had to look up a just a tad to meet the gaze of the angel standing behind him. She was regarding him in that inscrutable way all angels had, as though she was calmly waiting for him to do something that warranted a righteous punishment.

"Yes?" Gideon asked, turning his body to fully face the winged woman. His departure from Sunhome and Aurelia's service had not been on bad terms and the Boros Archangel had not seemed to resent him for it. But letting one's guard down in this city was a very stupid thing to do, and if this angel was looking for a fight, she would not find him unprepared.

"I am Plerakor az Vinrenn D'rav," the angel said, inclining her head slightly. "And I would have words with you."

Gideon raised an eyebrow and examined the angel. She was tall, with bronzed skin and a set of radiant white wings. She looked much like the other firemane angels of the Boros legion he'd fought alongside. Except… Gideon blinked, and looked again.

The angel wasn't wearing armor, instead of shining plate metal she wore a simple green tunic, and she carried no weapon he could see. The sight was bizarre, like watching a fire elemental drinking a glass of water.

After a few moments he realized she was waiting for him to speak, as were several people around them, the marketgoers watching him with interest—no doubt to wondering if they were going to see a fight. He was pretty sure he could hear the reedy voice of a goblin somewhere behind him trying to start up a betting pool on who would win.

"You're not wearing Boros colors." He blurted, then realized in the silence that followed that it was true. The angel's clothes had neither the red nor the white of the legion. That was… strange, and likely telling. He may not have Jace's mind for machinations, but Gideon knew a significant detail when he saw one.

The angel didn't blink. "I have a friend who wishes to speak with you." she stated. "Follow me and I will guide you to him."

"Does this someone have a name?"

"Yes."

"…is it someone I would want to talk to?"

"If you have a desire to protect innocent lives, then yes."

Gideon frowned, narrowing his eyes at the angel. Should he take that statement at face value? Or was she saying if she would kill people if he didn't meet with this friend? The Boros angels he'd met to date were about as subtle as a hammer.

"Will you follow me?" the angel asked, when he didn't respond. "We do not mean you any harm." She added, almost as an afterthought.

Well, that was convincing…

Then again, he couldn't deny he was curious and if It was a trap; a planeswalker always had an escape route, especially one who could turn their skin invulnerable.

"Lead the way."

The angel nodded once and turned on her heel, striding away without another word. The crowds of the market parted even faster for her than they had for him and he followed easily in her wake.

To his surprise, the journey was short. There was no ducking into dark side alley's or taking long winding paths. The angel was leading him straight to what appeared to be a large tavern with the word Maz-Ivium's printed above the door—that was the name of an Izzet if he'd ever seen one. If this 'friend' was trying to involve him in something shady, they weren't going to great lengths to keep his movements a secret—even Chandra could have tracked down where they'd taken him without losing her patience.

The bouncer at the door, a horned-humanoid taller than even the angel and looking like the misbegotten offspring of an ogre and a minotaur, stepped aside as the angel strode close. A fanged mouth framed by tiny, angry eyes bore into him and the creature started to growl.

"He is with me." The angel declared, and the creature stopped growling immediately, although it still looked like it would very much like to use his head as chew toy. Gideon smiled calmly back at it, he'd seen things with far bigger teeth.

Compared to the Eldrazi, the bouncer was almost cute.

He stepped through the doorway into a pleasantly lit barroom. Gideon gave the customers a quick scan, a group of viashino were crowded around the bar, the lizardmen chittering at each other and downing drinks like the world was ending. A group of dwarves were huddled in one corner, pouring over some papers, and a mix of humans and elves were scattered throughout the bar. Gideon noted that plenty of the patrons were wearing signets representing their guild allegiance, but the actual colors they wore were plainer, not as blatant about showing off their guild.

Perhaps this bar was neutral ground? Not owned by any of the guilds?

Most of the patrons shot him a glance as he entered, but few showed much interest and even those who may have recognized him only gave him a few moments consideration before turning back to their business. Paying no heed as the angel strode across the room to an empty table in the far corner.

Wait, no. The table wasn't empty. Gideon he could see a man at the table, his body shimmering blue and silver—a vedelken? But as Gideon drew closer he saw the man had only two arms. Perhaps he was some kind of elemental?

Gideon stopped beside the angel and cleared his throat. The man stared at him for a moment, then turned to the angel.

"You actually convinced him to follow you?" he asked, and Gideon realized the man was slightly translucent, the wall behind him visible through his face. Despite his spectral appearance, the man's voice was a strong and clear as any of flesh and blood.

"You doubted me?" the angel asked levelly.

"Not as such," he answered, shaking his head. "It's just that I've seen you negotiate. It lacks a certain…" he waved a hand vaguely. "Delicate touch."

"You asked if I could bring him to you, and I did." Gideon raised an eyebrow. Was there just a hint of indignant huff to the angel's voice? "Are you going to speak with him, or waste time criticizing my methods?"

"Right, sorry." The ghost shook his head, a bemused grin on his face "Good job, Feather."

Feather? Hadn't she said her name was Plera-something? What kind of angel accepted a nickname from anyone? Gideon had a brief mental image of someone calling Aurelia Aury to her face and the firestorm of righteous fury that would follow.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Jura." The man leaned forward, his shaved head shimmering in the lamplight. "Tell me, to get you to follow her, did Feather at any point threaten to break your legs?"

The angel's eyebrow twitched, and Gideon couldn't stop himself from snorting. "No, she didn't."

"What about your arms?"

Her face still as stone, one of the angel's wing stretched out and swatted the man's head. The feather's passed though it like mist, but the man still shuddered and leaned away. "Okay, okay. I'll get to the point." He looked back to Gideon. "My name is Agrus Kos."

Gideon examined the man, he muscular and dressed in a mix of cloth and plate mail, and while the colors were all shades of shimmering blue he could still recognize the patterns on them as distinctly Boros.

"And what are you?" Gideon asked. "A magical projection? If someone wants to talk to me, I prefer to do it face to face."

"I am talking to you face to face." Agrus replied. "I'm not some magical cantrip. I'm just dead."

"Dead?" Gideon echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, a ghost? A restless spirit? An undead abomination?"

"I'm…sorry to hear that?" Gideon blinked. He certainly didn't look like one of the gibbering specters Lilliana could raise when she was angry.

The man snorted, "don't be, I got over it. It's not all bad either, I'm not as creaky as I used to be. Although I can't drink anymore," he sighed mournfully then shook his head. "But I didn't ask Feather to bring you here to talk about what it's like in the next life, you'll find out all about it yourself one day anyway." He gestured at the seat across from him. "Have a seat. If you're hungry, feel free to order something and we'll cover the tab. He glanced over at his companion. "You can sit down too, Feather."

"I will stand." Feather answered, making no move to sit.

"I'm shocked." Agrus rolled his eyes.

Gideon looked back and forth between the two and he only thing he could think was: an angel, a ghost, and a planeswalker walk into a bar…

He grinned to himself and took a seat, but foregoing the offer of food. Despite what Lilliana might think, he wasn't quite so stupid as to accept a meal from someone he'd just met. "So who exactly are you two? I doubt you're actually with the Boros."

"Not anymore, certainly." Agrus agreed as Feather gave off a derisive snort. "No, Feather and I are independent from the guilds. As for who we are, I'm just an old ghost. I spent most of my life as a wojek for the Boros legion: walking the streets, upholding both the laws and generally trying to keep everyone from killing each other too much. Then I died in the field of duty." The ghost shrugged. "Retirement never managed to stick to me when I was alive and didn't stick when I was dead either."

"That's admirable." Gideon commented.

Agrus snorted. "Tell that to the legion's higher-ups. They built statues of me, honoring my memory and all that, so having me still walking around is a bit embarrassing for them. Especially when I go to the statues and loudly point out the details they got wrong."

"Do you actually do that?"

"No, but sometimes I'm tempted."

"And what of you?" Gideon asked, turning to Feather who stared back at him neutrally.

"I served in the Wojek legion," she answered tersely, "I was Agrus's partner for most of his career."

Gideon opened his mouth to ask more but was interrupted by a loud shriek from across the bar. The pack of viashino and goblins, now thoroughly drunk, were facing a table of dwarves and screeching, waving tankards and claws in the air as the smaller folk bristled, hands falling to their belts where various dangerous looking implements were hanging.

"Ah. A famous Ravnica cross-cultural debate," Argus sighed. "Feather, would you mind stepping over there and persuade them see reason?"

The angel gave him a look but did not refuse. "If you insist," she said, spreading her wings and taking to the air. She landed between the squabbling groups and gave them a glare that could Gideon could almost feel.

"You are causing a disturbance in a public area." She said, and the iron in her voice making the dwarves drop their weapons and attempt to look as though they had never been about to draw them in the first place. "This is your only warning, cease this behavior."

One of the viashino snarled, jabbing a broken bottle at her.

Feather's eyes narrowed.

"It's always nice to see her having fun." Argus commented, as one of the lizard-man slid to a stop at their feet. "She even gave them a chance to surrender, all that time as a wojek really did do her good."

Gideon watched as the angel grabbed a clawed hand swinging toward her face, stopping it dead, then spin, whipping the viashino the hand was attached to around and hurling him into a clump of lizardmen.

"She's certainly aggressive." Gideon commented as the angel carefully picked up a table and hit one of the drunkards with it.

"Well, she was a Boros Angel." Argus shrugged. "If that lot were sober enough to be reasoned with, they would have dropped their weapons the moment Feather flapped over there. Sometimes, people just need a good crack on the head to help let the steam out. Besides, Feather won't kill them. It's better that she be the one to lay them out than some wet-behind-the-ears wojek who thinks the shiny red sun on his helmet will stop someone from trying to cave it in."

In a few moments, it was over. The angel was surrounded by a carpet of groaning bodies—it seemed Agrus was right, none of them seemed to be dead as far as Gideon could tell.

"Do you know," Gideon said slowly. "I think I've heard the name Feather before, from Aurelia."

"That right?" Argus said levelly.

"She didn't have anything nice to say."

"That might have something to do with how Aurelia usurped her as Guildmaster. Or the way she had Feather locked up until she escaped."

Gideon blinked, glancing back over at the angel with new interest. She had been Guildmaster of the Boros? Standing there with crossed arms and scowling as a pair of bouncers dragged the drunkards out of the bar, Gideon couldn't help but feel that she'd gone down in the world.

"Is it really a good idea for her to be walking around in broad daylight, then?"

"Oh, well," Agrus answered breezily. "Aurelia isn't actually allowed to lay a finger on her, provided Feather never sets foot on Boros turf. The reason being a very long and needlessly complicated legal agreement I managed to wrangle out of the Azorious and Orzhov." The ghost frowned thoughtfully. "I think she might now officially be a member of the Selesnya Conclave, but I can't be too sure; the paperwork was a true masterpiece of legal minotaur poo—or so I'm told, couldn't make any sense of the thing myself.

Gideon's eyebrow climbed even higher. "Aurelia never struck me as the type allow paperwork to slow her down."

"No, she's not." Argus agreed. "But I lived a long life and made a lot of friends in my time, some of which are in high places. High enough that they could cause the dear Boros Guildmaster some serious trouble if they were so inclined. As long as Feather keeps her head down and doesn't challenge Aurelia's position, she's not worth the trouble bringing her in would cause." There was a hard glint in the spirit's eyes that belied his ethereal form. "I've made sure of that. Strictly speaking, Feather works for me, and my beat is out of Boros jurisdiction due to complicated reasons that have long since become ancient history"

"Why did you seek me out?" Gideon asked. "Feather said something about saving lives."

The ghost was quiet for a moment, giving Gideon a sidelong look. "You agreed to help Aurelia cleanse the ninth district, but you refused to join the guild. Care to tell me why?"

"I did it to save the lives that would have been lost, not to help Aurelia win her war."

"That'd be why I wanted to get to know you." Argus looked him in the eye. "I gave my life to the Boros, more'n a hundred years of service. I'll be the last to say they're perfect—too much soldier in them for my taste. Still, at the end of the day, I considered it my job to keep the peace to make sure that people can walk the streets safely."

The ghost watched Feather lift up two goblins, one in each hand, and slam their heads together before dropping them unceremoniously one the ground. "Course, the current Boros management doesn't want anything to do with an old ghost like me, they'd rather march to war against… I dunno, whoever they feel has it coming. The Rakdos, probably."

"You still haven't explained why you have sought me out."

"There's something killing people down in the Keyhole Village district. Bodies have been turning up in odd places and strange conditions." Gideon felt the ghost's eyes on him and felt their steel. "I want you to help me stop it."

Gideon looked at him, but Agrus' gaze was as steady as his ethereal form would allow and gave nothing away.

"And that's it? that's all you want from me?" Gideon asked, raising a brow.

"No." Agrus answered simply. "But at the moment, that's the thing that matters."

"Why don't you ask the guilds for help?" Gideon asked.

"Keyhole Village isn't the richest neighborhood, but it isn't the slums either. So the guilds don't get to look good for doing charitable deeds there. I could go through the official channels and all that, but the problem is…"

"People would still be dying?" Gideon answered.

Argus was silent for a long moment. "There's a lot of people who slip through the cracks in this city, nobody could ever stop that…"

"I'm not some new recruit." Gideon interrupted, crossing his arms and giving the ghost a flat look. "You don't need to inspire me. If people are dying, and I can stop it, I will help."

Agrus eyed him, then nodded. "Fine then." The ghost stood, his body passing through the table as did so. "Meet us outside the town square of Keyhole Village in an hour. Make sure to bring a big weapon." He added over his shoulder as he drifted toward Feather. "Whatever's causing trouble down there, I expect it's going to require a great deal of persuasion."

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Well, there's my story. I wanted Gideon to meet Argus, I think they would have liked each other. Well, Gideon would have liked Agrus, anyway.