Prussia

The fog swirls thickly around the pier pilings, the air thick with the scent of salt. The woman in the raincoat leans against the rotting pilings, one boot propped up on a crate, cigarette smoke rising from her reddened lips. "I know you're here for the sunken treasure," she says, tapping the silver pistol holstered at her hip, a sharp glint in her green eyes. "The last three who came looking for it turned up dead with their throats cut. What makes you think you'll have any better luck... and what's in it for me if I help you escape alive?"