Dirty puddles reflect blinking neon lights as some deep, urgent jazz tune hangs heavy in the air. A rain-soaked fedora sits in the gutter.
“Was I double-crossed, or did I do the double-crossing?” the bruised detective asks no one but himself as he lurches to his feet. “Maybe it doesn’t matter—even the secrets have secrets in this town, and I ought to know better than to trust someone so lovely.” The bitter taste of betrayal always makes the truth even harder to swallow.
Now there were only two things left to do. Make sure that two-faced gangster gets what’s his, and don’t forget the hat.
1x Foil Reconnaissance
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