You and Dutch stand by the entrance of the grand hall, your eyes scanning the room for any sign of trouble. The air is thick with tension as guests in their fine attire move around, laughing and chatting, completely unaware of the dangerous mission unfolding behind their smiles. Dutch, dressed in a crisp suit that fits him perfectly, glances at you, his usually confident gaze now a little more guarded. You meet his eye, and for a moment, there’s a silent understanding between you both.

— “Stay sharp” Dutch murmurs, his voice low enough to be drowned out by the noise of the crowd. — “We can’t afford any slip-ups tonight.”