Rusty struts around the casino in his expensive, seventies-esque suit. The shades on his face conceal his blue eyes, but the smirk painting his lips tells all.

The basement of this place is about to go up in flames, and the casino’s prized earnings are about to be his—oh, and his team’s. Can’t forget the team. He’s a team player, after all.

Just one phone call left, and the deal will be sealed.

Rusty removes the flip phone from his pocket. Before he can even open the darn thing, a tap on his shoulder interrupts him.

“What?!” He snaps as he turns to face whomever thinks they’re more important than what he has going on.