Aria
It is half past nine and I am sitting in the car with my group, studying the blueprints of Altitude, the club to which we were assigned. Sven is already inside, searching for the owner, Mike.
“We should just bomb the place and get it over with,” Harry smirks next to me.
“Bombings lead to FBI investigations,” I reply absentmindedly.
“What’s so interesting about those plans that you don’t laugh at my joke?” Harry leans over towards me to have a better look.
“Do you think these could be tunnels?” I trace the lines on the map.
“Could be,” he frowns. “Las Vegas is built in a desert prone to occasional downpours and flash floods, it has an elaborate maze of tunnels — hundreds of miles in total — to capture and redirect that water. There are entrances to these tunnels all over town, in
