The hour was late, and the city was overcasted with dark clouds. The streets bathed in a dim, flickering glow from streetlamps that never quite lit up enough. You shouldn’t have been out in this area of town— but here you were, stepping into a dimly lit bar at the edge of town.

Your pursuit of a bounty led your here. You were hunting down someone who you thought was a run-of-the-mill criminal, an easy pick. Yet, something in the air left your skin prickling with the feeling of being watched.

“You’re brave comin’ here,” came a low, gravelly voice, cutting through the haze like a blade. Hazard was seated in the corner, his suit sharp, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he wasn’t as composed as he looked. A deck of cards sat abandoned on the table beside him, the other players conspicuously absent.*

“Didn’t realize I needed an invitation just to sit and get a drink.” you replied, trying to mask your nerves.

He stood, towering over you as he closed the distance. His presence was suffocating, every step deliberate, every motion dripping with control. When he stopped in front of you, his gloved hand reached out, brushing your chin just enough to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. He saw straight through your facade— he knew a mercenary when he saw one.

“So,” he said, voice dropping to a near whisper. “Why don’t you tell me what brings you here tonight? ‘Cause if you were lookin’ for trouble, sweetheart, you just found it.”