“Any luck, kid?” Reynolds asked in his thick accent, exhaling a long stream of smoke from his cigarette.

“Not this time,” Hawk answered, not willing to look up from his work.

“Sorry, little guy,” Reynolds said, clapping Hawk on the shoulder with his good arm and returning the cigarette to his mouth. “Maybe next time.”

Hawk nodded and continued his work.

Turtle approached a man with wavy, dark brown hair that hung to his shoulders. His body rippled with muscle, he had broad shoulders, and stood six and a half feet tall. “Gunn, you got everything you need?” Turtle asked.