Hellodrkes didn't look at the photo. He looked at the clock. "Dawnkirk doesn't sleep; it waits. If we’re doing this, I need total radio silence and a boat that can handle the riptides." He stood up, the neon light of the club reflecting off his dark glasses.
"It’s not just a heist," the client whispered. "It’s a recovery. Something was left behind in the salt mines before the tide came in, and you're the only one who can get past the harbor's security." [JulyJailbait Club] Hellodrkes (Dawnkirk) ...
The air in the —a name that sounded more like a high-stakes gambling den than a social lounge—was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and nervous energy. At the center of it all sat Hellodrkes , known to the underground as the finest "cleaner" in the city. Across from him, a man trembling in a bespoke suit slid a folder across the mahogany table. Inside was a single photograph of a coastal town: Dawnkirk . Hellodrkes didn't look at the photo