CHAPTER D: YOU THINK YOUR JOB SUCKS?

Without a doubt, one of the most unnerving experiences in the history of the universe is having the barrel of a gun held straight at your ball sack. Not pleasant. Not pleasant at all. It almost made me ignore the spittle that flew from my face, courtesy of a fat, hairy China-man, who coincidentally was also holding said gun against said ball sack.

"Zhè dàodǐ shì shuí de bī?! Érqiě tā shì zěnme lái dào zhèlǐ de?!"

Now my Chinese is still very basic. But I could tell he wanted to know how I was here.

"Ń... Wǒ cǎoxié... Lái zì dà lǎobǎn."

Beside me, Fanu let out his barking laugh, before he stepped forward and grabbed the gun lightly, pulling it away. 

"Bié jǐnzhāng, yuēhàn ní, tā hé wǒ zài yīqǐ. Xīn zhāomù de 432."

I vigourously nodded, hoping it would make the fat man understand. Slowly like the dawn, a smile crept over his face and he grinned showing proudly a set of dirty, tobacco-stained teeth.

Ugly fucker, isn't he?

"Yīgè zōngsè pífū de cǎoxié! 432 Zhēn de zhīdào rúhé xuǎnzé tāmen."

I smiled nervously at that. The fat-man, Johnny Tito had called me a 'brown-skin', which was pretty much my new name amongst the Triad. Started by that bastard, Fanu, the name quickly caught on and whether I liked it or not, had become sort of my calling card. Today Money had sent the two of us to meet Tito, in order to collect the monthly income from his sector.

Johnny Tito was a Red Pole, an enforcer for the Triad. It wasn't his real name, but he chose it, thinking people would respect him more with an American name. The funny thing is, that he was right. It was his job to make sure the Triad stayed safe, and its enemies dead. So far, he'd done a good job, rising to one of the 426 and becoming an enforcer from a lowly soldier just a year after joining the Triad, soon establishing his reputation as one of the most ruthless enforcers in Hong Kong. But he always paid his dues, and never wavered in his loyalty. Almost a year later, highly drunk and stoned, he showed me the bullet wounds he had taken for the previous Mountain Master, Money's father.

"Three of 'em, Monki! All in the chest! Now that is loyalty, eh?" He said, before proceeding to cover the floor in another layer of vomit.

But that happens later. Right now, he was still glancing at me with a slightly curious look, as though unsure whether he should shake my hand or shoot me.-Smile at him, he'll like it-I smiled at him, trying to make him feel at ease. The next second he had his gun at my balls again, only now there was another one trying to jam its way up my left nostril as well.

Okay, maybe that wasn't a good idea.

Tito didn't like strangers smiling. I didn't know it at the time, but a stranger smiling at you often meant that a bullet in the head was soon to follow, and Tito took that norm very seriously. It took a lot more coaxing from Fanu before he let me go.

Half-an-hour later, as we exited Tito's apartment, Fanu was still trying hard not to smile.

I looked at him and grumbled. "I'm sorry, but if that wasn't amusing enough for you, I'm sure Mr. Tito would like to go for a round two."

"No, no, that would be too much. As it is, we have spent to much time with Tito. We must hurry for our next appointment."

Like me, Fanu was also a Straw Sandal, but he had been with the 432 for almost four years now, and was an experienced hand at the job. Which was why Money assigned me to work under him, a task he took with no hesitation or regret. While he did have his fun here and there, Fanu was a good man.-Hold on, how can you have good men in the Triad?- He treated me with respect, and always answered whatever questions I had. It was Fanu's job to make sure I had a home, I had money, I had help.

He'd got me a little apartment on a road in the Kowloon City District, as well as a bike to help me travel. Three thousand Hong Kong Dollars found its way to my doorstep every Monday in an unmarked envelope, enough to live comfortably. And five days a week, we did the rounds.

Now working for the Mafia should be fun, right? Well, 'fun' may not be the most accurate way to describe it, but it certainly wasn't boring. It had been almost a month since Fanu and I did our first round of the city, and so far I hadn't been attacked, chased or shot at. Our rounds were simple, we collected cash from the enforcers and collectors, passed on messages between the districts, and Fanu would occasionally take us down some road, find a guy, shoot him in the head, and then carry on with his day.

Certainly not boring.

But even though I had seen quite a few deaths, I was yet to fire my own weapon. -Pussy- Whenever the need arose, by the time the gun was in my hand the other guy was already dead, and Fanu would be quickly walking away, tucking his gun back into his belt. Fanu was a good shot, I'd never seen him miss even once.

We met Money quite often, though only for a few minutes at a time. Only to report, and to receive further instructions. Sometimes we met him in his high-end mansion, other times in the back of a car, an alley behind some building, anywhere private. Business through phone was forbidden, strictly. -Well duh, jackass- You never knew who might be listening. I hadn't seen Mei even once since our first meeting, but not a day went by without me thinking of her. I asked Fanu about her once over a sandwich. He chewed away and gave me a long look before he spoke.

"She's in the Triad against her family's wish. Only her brother, Moni-san allowed her to join. But she's cold, that's what she is. Too many she's killed, she likes it you see. Dangerous. Very Dangerous."

His eyes narrowed. "Stay away from her. I think she wants to kill you."

I'm going to mount her like a stallion.

I swallowed the last of my meal. "I'll keep that in mind."

Of course, there were then those days. Days when the entire Triad was on high alert, either because a rival gang had hit one of our locations, or cops had busted one of them. During this time, I could see a change in every member, even in Fanu. His hand was always near his gun, and every time we were on the streets, his eyes were constantly looking around, searching for any kind of threat. This had happened three times since I had joined and was practically a weekly issue.

One time I did ask Money about it, and he sighed in displeasure.

"At the end of the day, Monki, no matter what we do, or how we do it, it is still 'illegal'. So the cops will always try to stop us, and the other gangs will always try to beat us to it, by hook or crook, through mainly the later. It is a city of thieves and lies, Měi tiān sǐwáng. At the end, we just have to chalk it up to collateral damage."

A bullet in the head. Collateral Damage. That's one way to frame it.

And there were times when we had when we had to take the first step ourselves. Whenever, intel on a rival Triad was received, Moni would send a force to take it out. Normally, the task always fell on to one of the enforcers to put together a team and deal 'justice', guns blazing. In time, I would be asked to fall into a crew as well. In time, I would be leading my own.

Unlike popular belief, there is no one 'Triad' in the world. There are hundreds. Each with it own hierarchy, family, and fight. From big bad-asses like the 14k group that had connections across the globe, to small-fires with retarded names, like 'White Tigers' or 'Asian Power'.

Please.

I was under the Wo Shing Wo, the oldest Triad in Hong Kong -Been here since 1931, bitch-. We controlled the drug trade, we controlled the secondhand market. We had politicians on pay, we controlled businesses. There was little in Hong Kong that we did not own. That automatically won us a lot of respect amongst the other Triads in the city, but just as many wanted to take our place as top dog. As the Mountain Master, Moni had more attempts on his life than he bothered to keep track off. I've lost count of the times when I've had to duck for cover under a hail of bullets, simply because I was standing next to him. Going to a restaurant, at a meeting, even in his own home. Moni was always a marked man. The 14k, the Shui Fong, the Big Circle Gang... all had it in for Moni.

And Mei as well. As the sister of the Mountain Master of Wo Shing Wo, she was always under the cross-hairs as well. But while Moni almost always traveled with an army by his side, Mei almost always traveled alone. The other Triads knew this, and had sent many men after her. None had come back alive. After that, few were willing to take the contract on Mei's head.

Do I know how to pick 'em, or what?

The first time you kill a man never leaves you. The memory will always stay fresh, despite the other killings just fading away. But never the first.

He had a piercing in his right eyebrow and two in each ear. Short hair, spiked. He couldn't have been more than 5"5', and I still remember the feel of the recoil in my hand as the first bullet flew from my colt and straight into the base of his neck, followed by another in his chest. He fell backwards, the gun dropping out of his hand before he could have even raised it. I just stood there, staring dumbly at his falling body, until Fanu crashed into me from the side, sending us sprawling behind some cover before a hail of bullets could have done the same to me.

"Good shot!" He grinned as he shouted above the gunfire. "But you need to learn how to duck Monki, or this will be your last shoot-out as well as your first!"

I blinked dumbly. This was the first time he had called me Monki. Not brown-skin, but Monki. Just that was enough to snap me out of my daze. I nodded, then looked around the overturned table to catch a sight of the fight. There were three of them left, all armed with SMGs that let out with a burst of gunfire. The bullets whizzed over our heads as they were firing blind, none daring to expose themselves.

The reason for this was the ear-splitting booms of Tito's pump-action, that was rapidly turning the Pawn shop into a unrecognizable battlefield. Above it we could hear him roaring abuses at the enemy, as though his curses with do as much damage as the lethal three feet of metal in his hands. I looked again at Fanu, who looked the happiest I had seen him in his entire life. With a pistol in each hand, he was laying down covering fire for Tito, catching one of the enemy in the shoulder while doing so.

Bullets flew like mad hornets, smashing and breaking through everything that could be smashed and broken. My first kill did it for me, and I rose from cover as well, screaming abuses in German, Spanish, French, and even a bit of Danish that I had picked up from a Dutch girl I had dated in college. Time flew. My gun cocked empty and I blanched, but then I looked around and saw I wasn't the only one. Tito leaned against the wall, his shotgun propped up against his meaty thigh as he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. His other two men were standing where the enemy had been, checking their corpses for anything important.

Remembering what Fanu had taught me, I quickly reloaded my weapon, still fumbling a bit with the magazine before I took a long, deep breath.

"That wasn't so bad, was it now, Fanu?"

No answer. I turned around and there he lay against the wall, a little trickle of blood falling across the bridge of his forehead from the bullet-wound in his head. His eyes were lifeless, but his mouth was still locked in that very same devilish grin, as though he knew something really funny about death. Something that still made him smile.

This may not be the right time, but did you realize that 'Monki' sounds a lot like 'Monkey'? I'm just sayin'

CHAPTER C: I BECOME A STRAW SANDAL

When I was five years old, I fell into a stream. I didn't know how to swim, and I could still remember my maid screaming for help as I pitched backwards into the water, my arms windmilling around in panic.

But when I hit the water, the fear dissipated. I was underwater, the slow current all around me tugging at my body and clothes in an almost lazy fashion. And I did not realize it at the time, but a smile had broken out on my face. I broke the surface of the water with a whoop of joy, only to dive back under again.

It was like I had finally come home.

I loved the water, loved to swim, loved the feel of it streaming in across my body as I would pull myself through it with swift, sure strokes. That day, my maid had fainted with fright, but I didn't even care.

I was in love.

I stood under the shower, remembering the memory as though it happened yesterday, feeling myself calm down as hot rivulets of water streaked down my head and across my body. I still had no idea where I had been brought, and I hadn't seen Money even once since they rushed him away, leaving me to stand alone and waiting, until one of the men came back with a fresh change of clothes and a towel, before leading me to a very fancy bathroom that was twice the size of my old dorm room.

Just like the loo, everything about the house I was in screamed 'I'm fucking rich and I like to show it'. Marble flooring, chandeliers, even a Chinese butler who politely inquired before my shower if I needed anything else. I replied just as courteously that I was fine, and then shut the door, stripped and turned on the taps.

I could have fallen asleep there and then, if not for the bloody interruptions.

So who do you think this Moni is? I bet you he's with the mafia, or something like that. Why do you think he got us along? Is he gonna kill us? Do you think that's his plan? Or will he just thank us with a reward? We did help save his life after all. For all we know, he might even-

You're asking too many questions. Shut the hell up.

Well one of us has to talk. And all you're doing right now is relaxing in a shower. And stop thinking about her, she's not going to sleep with you.

I blushed. True, I also couldn't stop thinking about that woman as well. The way she drove, with swift sure movements, her eyes, her cold black eyes never leaving the road ahead. The way her-

Oh please stop. You sound like you'll break into song any second.

I sighed, and with no small regret turned off the shower. I quickly toweled myself dry and changed into the clothes given to me. Stepping out of the bathroom, I looked around. The corridor was deserted, and I had no clue where to go. Deciding to head to the right, I proceeded carefully, looking around at he huge paintings put up on the wall, depicting ancient Chinese warriors in battle. I paused as I came across one nasty scene of decapitation. The dead man's blood was all over the canvas, on his body, in puddles on the ground. Streaks were even on his killer, who held his head high like a war trophy.

Oh yeah, Da Vinci has nothing on this kinda shit.

Moving on, I reached the end of the corridor, where it broke off into two more. Heading right again, I kept on walking until I started to hear voices. I followed the sounds until I reached an elaborate wooden double door, the voices on the other side. I wasn't sure if I should enter, but I had been walking about aimlessly for what seemed like forever, and I was looking for any sign of human company, even if that company would try to shoot me.

I knocked on the door. At once the voices on the other side went silent. The next second found me diving for the floor as a hail of bullets burst through the door, cracking through the wood and sending splinters flying. I lay there prone, as I could hear footsteps run to the doors before they were kicked open.

The love of my life stood there, with a gun pointed at me for the second time that night. When she recognized me, she gave a frustrated sigh, and grabbing me by the collar, pulled me to my feet.

"In this house," She said as though talking to a child. "You knock three times on any door. Or else you'll soon become a fucking dead man, understood?"

I dumbly nodded, and she gave a slight smile. It wasn't very romantic. Her smile seemed to say, 'I wonder how long it'll take for you to get killed here.'

At the rate you're going, my bet is on three hours.

"Now come with me." She continued. "Moni wishes to meet with you."

She walked down the hall, in the same direction I came, with me a few steps behind her. We entered the corridor of paintings, and strode through it as well, passing the bathroom in which I had showered. Finally we came before a pair of elevator doors. There was no button on the side, just a card slot through which she slid some sort of id card she had fished out of her pocket. The doors opened and we stepped inside.

The doors closed and the lift began to ascend.

We stood in silence. I dared not to say a word, instead quietly began observing the woman again, noticing for the first time the thin scar that ran down the side of her neck, all the way to-

"Get your eyes of my rack. Right now."

"I-I-I wasn't looking at-"

"Right. Now."

Damn smooth, Casanova.

The lift beeped, and the doors opened to the biggest room I had ever seen. The walls were painted in cream, and on one side, there was a huge floor-to-ceiling window, providing a spectacular view of the city. The ceiling had a massive mural depicting another battle- I think these guys like fighting a lot, don't you?- and a fireplace roared in the corner. The light from the flames sent huge shadows flickering across the ceiling, making it seem like the warriors painted on it were actually moving, still fighting the battle that they had been immortalized in. Seated by the fireplace was Money, his shirt off while a doctor was tending to his wounds. He looked better already. He was still quite pale, but the blood had been washed off him and his leg was in a cast. Right now the doctor had just passed him a thick piece of rope that he had tightly gripped with his teeth. The doctor then grabbed his hand and with a sharp tug, set the shoulder back in place.

I winced as I could hear the pop of the shoulder falling in place from all the way here. For his part, Money let out a small moan, before shaking his head slightly. The doctor then stood, and appraising him once, gave some instructions in Chinese, before packing his instruments and headed out, politely nodding to us as he exited the room.

We walked on until we came to a stop near him, who was still busy examining his shoulder. Without looking up, he gestured for us to sit. Once he was done looking at it, he tilted his head up and looked me in the eye.

"Well, friend, it seems I have a debt. A debt to you."

"Please," I said. "It was nothing."

"If it were nothing, then I would not want you here, and my little sister would put a bullet in your brain. But it is something, and thus I am in your debt."

Strangely, the first thing that same to my mind, was that she was Money's sister, not his girlfriend. The second was that a powerful Hong Kong Gangster was telling me that he owed me big time.

Sweet.

"So tell me, friend. What do you want from me?"

The words were out before I had thought them. "A job." I instantly was taken aback. That was not what I had wanted to say.


Of course it wasn't, I said it.

What?! Who the hell gave you the right to say that?

Well, it certainly wasn't you.

Money looked at me with narrowed eyes, which wasn't good. But he also had a smile on his face, so it couldn't be bad.

"Have you ever used a gun?" He asked.

"Not really, no."

"Killed a man?"

"Uh... I've been in a few fights."

"Xiōngdì, qǐng." The girl spoke. "Tā shì yīgè báichī. Zhè bùshì tā de shìjiè."

"Neither was it yours, Mei. But you fit in well enough, didn't you?"

"I had training. You really don't think this 'Jiǎnhuǎn' would last? Hēishèhuì shì bùshì yīgè xiàohuà, nǐ zhīdào zhè."

"Do I look like I'm fucking laughing?"

Mei looked like she was going to reply, but instead kept quiet and looked away. Money faced me again, and continued.

"My name is Moni. You know this already. What you do not know is that I am the Mountain Master of Hong Kong. I am Sān hé huì. I am Triad."

I told you so.

"Now that I have told you, I will have to kill you.-That's not good- On the other hand, I could use you, use whatever skills you have to offer, and mold the rest of them into you.-Now that sounds good-. As the Mountain Master, I can chose to include you in my family and none," He shot a dark look at Mei. "Can dare protest against my word. But if you fail me, if you betray me, then you insult me, and for that you will die. Slowly."

"So either I die right now, or I join you and hopefully not die while working for you."

He smiled. "That is, as they say, the gist of it."

"Alright, so where do I start? Do I get a gun?"

"It is not so simple, Lǘ." Mei spoke. "You will first have to prove yourself worthy to be a part of our ranks."

"I saved the big guy's life. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Àomàn de xiǎo-" Mei exclaimed as she leapt up to slap me, but Money caught her hand at the last second.

"He saved the life of a man. My life. For that, his loyalty and worth to me is proven."

She looked at him with rage in her eyes, but he met her with his own steely gaze. And here I was, the cause of sibling rivalry, trying hard to become as inconspicuous as fucking possible. Finally she looked away and sat down again, muttering silently to herself.

Money looked back at her. "You can leave if you want to."

"Xièxiè." She stood up and walked out, not looking back even once. I winced as the door slammed behind us.

"Ignore her," Money spoke. "She thinks you're a spy, or something like that."

I let out a nervous laugh. "I can assure you that I'm not-"

"I know you're not. Otherwise you would be dead at my feet."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it."

He looked at me closely. "Are you always this cheeky?"

I gulped. "I try not to be."

He laughed. "You do not try enough, it seems. But I like it, you speak without fear."

I gave a nervous laugh at that, cause I was pretty shit-scared at that moment. Money leaned back and closed his eyes, his hands rubbing over his fresh cast.

"Tell me your name."

I paused. I was expecting this question, and had spent a while thinking about it. "Ranjit." I lied.

He let out a chuckle. "That is a lie, 'Ranjit'. Anyways, I do not like that name, I will call you Monki from now onwards. I like that more, yes."

So now I  had a new name as well. Monki. Monki, Moni, Mei... is it a job requirement in the Triad to have a name starting with an 'M'? If so, how about Motherfucke-

Not right now. This is serious.

I know its serious. Which is why its also so much of fun.

Money carried on. "There is little that you can offer me now, save your loyalty. Fortunately, your loyalty is what is needed the most. Everything else can be taught to you." He opened a drawer from a nearby desk and brought out a gun. He passed it to me, and I held a gun in my hands for the first time in my life. It was heavier than I thought, and felt cold and alien in my palm. I could see the words 'Colt.45' engraved on the side, next to the carving of a rearing horse.

"That is a good gun." Money said. "Very faithful, very powerful. It has ended many lives and saved others. Hopefully, it will now save yours."

I looked at the gun in my hands. Despite myself, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement.

Lock and load, baby. Hell, yeah.

"Now that you have a weapon, all you need is a position. The rest can be worked out over time." He bent his head, deep in thought. "You still do not know how to shoot, which means you will be useless as a soldier, let alone a Red Pole. Can you handle accounts?"

"Are you kidd- I mean, no, no I can't"

"Hmm... and you know not a word of Chinese..."

"I can learn." I offered. "I'll pick the basics in few weeks. Give me a couple of months, and I bet I could speak it as fluently as you."

He laughed out loud at this. "My dear friend, Chinese is not so simple a language. It would take more than a few months to learn it."

Now it was my turn to smile. "You'd be surprised. Ich kann Deutsch sprechen, et je te botter le cul en français. Mi español es todavía un poco inestable, Shikashi, watashi no nihongo wa kyūsoku ni kōjō shite imasu. Aur han, main hindi bhi bolta huun."

Money's eyebrows arched up, impressed. "I recognized the Japanese, the others were..."

"German, French, Spanish, and of course, Hindi. I have a knack for languages."

"You speak in several tongues, yet you lived on the street?"

"Well, not always."

He smiled knowingly. "Most of the Triad have a hidden past. Which is why we respect it, and do not ask about it. So you know languages, yes."

I shrugged. "Pretty much."

"That is good, then it leaves little to be decided. You will act as one of the 432, our connecting liaison between the branches of our organization. The 432 handle the communications between our people, as well as in the dealing outside. It is a difficult task, you will meet many people and will be told many secrets. You will die if you betray them. Work well, and reap your rewards, for the 432 are a most crucial group. Of course you will directly report to your boss as well as the 438, that is me, the Deputy Mountain Master of Hong Kong.Your ceremony initiation into the Triad will happen in a few days, till then, you cannot leave this house, or you will be shot."

"Excellent." I said, rubbing my palms together. "So do I get a cool nickname like you? I was thinking of something like a 'Streaking Dragon' or 'Dancing Viper'."

Money grinned. "Those are good names, yes. But the 432 already have a title. Welcome to the Triad, Monki the Straw Sandal."

Straw Sandal. Not Cool.

At least they didn't call you Prancing Pony. But you're a gangster now. Congratulations.

CHAPTER B: MONEY, MONEY, MONEY

I stepped out of the grocery store and stepped around the corner as fast as I could. Only then, did I reach into my pocket and pull out the chocolate I had flicked. My other pockets bulged with similar stolen goods. A tin of ham, few more chocolate bars, and a small can of juice.

Lunch.

Hong Kong is great. Freaking awesome place to live, wine, dine and die in. Provided you have the money for it. And since I'd spent most of my cash on the flight ticket here, I had precious little to spare. I needed the cash to come flowing back. Fast.

You could get a job.

I'd been on the streets for almost a week now. Thankfully it was summer, so sleeping in the open was not a problem. Cops were. Hong Kong likes to keep itself clean, you see. Of trash, of pollution and of hobos.

As I was saying, I'm sure you could work as a store clerk, or in some business, or even a prostitute.

And then there was this, a voice in my head. A voice in my head. It wasn't mine, and I didn't know what it was doing or how it got here. I had thought to myself many times (come on, everyone does that) and the voice that replied was nothing like this.

Of course I'm not! That guy was a tool. I'm at least more entertaining company.

By now, I should have become used to it. But that wouldn't happen for another few weeks. His voice still caught me surprise each time. I did my best to suppress it, to ignore it. But then he'd just start pounding on the walls of my subconscious and drive me near insane.

Half mad, homeless and poor. Life didn't look that great right now. And looking back, I'd have done anything to have let it stay that way. The sun set and I looked around for tonight's bed. The problem with parks were that they had guards patrolling. The problem with the pavement was the cops patrolling. Chinky bastards stare at me like I'm a fucking leper, before they bark some incomprehensible shit, which pretty much means, 'Get the fuck outta here."

Finally I made my bed behind a fly-over support pillar. Making a pillow out of my jacket, I lay there, thinking of the irony when I used to drive by this back home in Delhi. Then, I used to look at these beggars without a second thought.

Puts things into perspective, doesn't it?

Fuck off. I need to sleep. I turned around and closed my eyes, ignoring the slight sniggers that came from within my head. My own brain was turning against me, and I didn't know what to do about it.

That's a little extreme, isn't it? I'm not turning against you, I'm only having fun insulting you.

Do you really think I need something like that right now?

Do you really think I'd give you a choice?

I sighed in frustration and kept quiet. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see people heading back to their homes. A few hours ago, the streets were packed. Always packed. People of all kinds and colors running about like ants, each one rushing, each one bustling about. Sometimes I wondered how so small a place could have so many people without them tearing away at each other. But then I remember that no one has the time to think of anyone else, let alone formulate plans of destruction. As long as we're kept busy as the bees, then there's no need to think for ourselves. But now, only a few last-minute couples coming back from dinner, or the nervous buisnessman formulating the excuse to his wife on why he's going to be late.

Of course, I wasn't alone. There were other homeless as well. But they were like chameleons in the night. Hidden in the deep crevasses of Hong Kong's dark alleys, they wandered through the night like prowling spirits. They couldn't speak a word of English, and after the first one I talked to tried raping me, I thought it best to avoid this lovely community altogether.

Sleep, as always, took its sweet time to come, and it was long past midnight before I began to feel a bit drowsy. Letting out a huge yawn, I shuffled around a bit to find a more comfortable position, keeping my eyes closed.

Which is why I only heard the sound of the crash.

The roar of the engine I heard beforehand. Hong Kong is famous for its illegal street racing, something that had evolved into a culture for some of the locals. They were their own rich, elite community, each trying to outdo the other with the better car and the sweeter women. I had heard them many times, almost every night, screaming through the empty roads at over 200 kmph.

This one sounded different. And before I could even figure out why, the sound was replaced with the screeching of tires that grew louder and louder until-

Crash.

My eyes flew open. The accident sounded like it had happened right beside me. I flew to my feet and ran around to the other side of the pillar. And there she lay, the back of the car literally wrapped around another pillar, only some fifteen feet away. I slowly walked forward, hearing the crunching of broken glass from the car under my feet. I nervously smelt for gasoline, but there was no trace of it in the air. I edged closer and closer, now able to clearly make out the car as a Nissan painted bright orange with a single black line of paint running through the body, but what model I was not sure of. One of its lights was still working, and it threw a ghostly light against the underside of the flyover. I could see a few other homeless people running away from the beam, as though not wanting to be detected, to be seen. Cops would soon be here, and they'd impound the car and take away the driver. My eyes soon traveled up the the front of the car, where I could just make him out through the broken windshield.

From the slight movements he made, I could tell he was still alive. A nasty wound bled freely on his head, dying his shoulder-length brown hair with a dark red. His right arm was twisted at the shoulder, I could tell that it was dislocated. One look at him and another at the car, and I knew this guy was in a lotta trouble.

Welcome to the club.

I turned around to walk away. The last think a homeless man needs is another man to look after. But I stopped only a few steps away as I heard him speak.

"Please... H-help..."

I turned around slowly. His eyes were open, but he was dazed, still in shock. His good hand was stretched forward towards me, reaching out, begging for help. I looked around me, all around. I was the only one there.

Are you sure you want to this?

At that moment, I knew I did. Even if it was just to prove something to myself, and more importantly the voice in my head- I have a name, you know- I'd rescue this guy and somehow get him to help.

Like I was saying, I don't really like 'voice in the head'. How about-

I ran forward, coming to a halt by the driver's door. The glass had shattered, and there was a nasty dent in the door. I tried to open it, -Hey! I'm talking to you here- but the damage to the door had disabled the locking mechanism. I kicked at it several times, but with little effect. Once again, I tried pulling on the door handle, -uh... buddy?- but no matter what, it just wouldn't open.

How about seeing if its locked?

I paused, and reached through the broken window, feeling around until I found what I thought was the lock control and-

The door smoothly opened without a fuss.

The voice was silent, but it doesn't take words to know when you're dealing with a smug jackass. I reached inside and unbuckled his seat belt. The airbags inside had already been deployed and had also already deflated, so bringing him out of the car was quite easy. I sat him down so he leaned against the pillar. and then I began to examine him for injuries.

Apart from the wound on his head, and the dislocated shoulder, I could see a huge swelling on his right knee. I knew that couldn't be good, especially since he couldn't walk even a single step on it. But he was alive, if barely. His eyes flickered as he struggled to say conscious. I tried to help him, but I didn't know how.

So I punched his knee.

His eyes flew wide open, shock and pain dancing withing them. His good hand shot forward and caught me by the shoulder, squeezing so tightly that it hurt.

"Easy... easy." I said, taking his good hand and slowly but firmly lifting it off me. "Can you hear me? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Fuck..." He moaned.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now tell me, where does it hurt? Can you understand what I'm saying?"

He looked me in the eyes for the very first time. "Of course I understand what the hell you're saying you, asshole. And if you punch me like that again, I'll break your teeth and keep 'em for trophies."

Ah the damsel in distress. Bet you feel real good now, Hero?

Shut up. I looked at him again. "We need to get you to a doctor. If you know where the nearest hospital is then-"

"No!" He barked suddenly. "No... no fucking doctor. Take me... get a cab. Get a fucking cab, fast!"

Now normally when someone in this case tells you to not take him to a doctor, you ignore him completely. But there was something about this man, that made me hesitate, made me instead stand up and look around for a taxi instead. Something wild in his eyes.

The gun that had come in his left hand probably helped to.

Taxis never sleep, and in a few minutes I was able to hail one down. I approached him uncertainly, unsure of how to go about this.

"Uh... you speak English? My... friend... very hurt, need help."

"Yes, I speak English, you jackass. Where do you wanna-"

The taxi driver stopped, his eyes narrowing as they were drawn to the crash. They then swiveled around until they connected with the injured driver. At once the cabbie's eyes widened in fear. He barked something in Chinese, and the slammed on the gas. Before I could even so much as shout, he was already a pair of taillights fading rapidly down the street.

But I had seen the look in his eyes. The cabbie had recognized with guy with me, and that had scared the shit out of him. Which made me wonder just who was it I had rescued. I turned around and walked back to him, more than a little scared now.

"Uh... the cab just bailed."

He didn't sound surprised at that. Instead the bastard gave a slight chuckle. He put the gun on the ground beside him and reached into his jacket pocket, wincing in pain as he was forced to move.

At that moment, I could have run. His gun was on the ground and there was no way he could have caught me. But I didn't. I was rooted to the spot as he finally brought out a cellphone and threw it to me. I almost dropped it, but at the last moment my hand shot out and caught the mobile.

"Open the log... last number dialed. Call it."

I did, and after a few rings a voice answered on the other side. There was a man barking on the other side in rapid Chinese. I didn't know what to do, so I handed it back to him. He took it, spoke briefly into the phone, before cutting the call and leaning back against the pillar, his eyes closed. I had no clue what to do, so I just stood there beside him.

Waiting. Though not for long.

Ten minutes later, I could hear another group of engines, and seconds later three cars shot around the corner, all decked to the max, with bright paints and tinted windows. They pulled up beside us, the one in front done in wicked black and red. The driver's door opened, and a woman strode out, gun cocked and aimed at my face. My hands shot upwards of their own accord, and I tried very hard to not piss my pants.I looked past the gun, and decided that if she didn't shoot me, then I'd marry her. Not because she'd let me live, (well that too, I guess) but because I hadn't seen a hotter piece of ass in my entire-

Blam! The first shot rang though the night, and I closed my eyes, trying hard to will myself not to die. I opened them a second later to see her still staring at me, the gun now smoking. I looked right above me, where the bullet had lodged itself in the pillar behind me.

She pointed at the bleeding man on the floor. "Did you do this?"

"What?" I exclaimed. "No I was just-"

"Ràng tā de jiejie, tā jiù le wǒ de shēnghuó." The man on the ground spoke. "Ràng wǒ xià le chē."

The woman turned to face him ."Dànshì nǐ zěnme zhīdào shì bùshì zhèyàng tā jiù kěyǐ shā nǐ de shǒu? Nǐ shènzhì bù yìng gāi chūqù le jīn wǎn."

The man gave a painful smile. "Somehow, I doubt that. Now help me, quickly."

By now, three others, all men, all big men, had gotten out of the other cars. Two raced forward to help the injured driver to his feet, while the third looked around while he carried a very big gun. As he was hoisted on his feet and lead towards the cars, he asked the men helping him to stop as he passed me.

"I hope you do not mind my earlier behavior. I was in pain and not thinking straight. My name is Moni, and I thank you for your assistance. If there is anyway I could repay you, then-"

"A hot bath and a bed. In that order, please."

Despite the pain, he laughed out loud. "A frank man. They are often the best men. Come, I will give your 'hot bath and bed'."

He turned to face the woman. "Zhè rén huì hé wǒmen yīqǐ qù. Tā huì yǔ nǐ tóngxíng. Duìdài tā."

The woman scowled but said nothing. Instead she gestured for me to get into her car. I didn't understand for a second what she meant, but when she screamed at me to get in, I almost tripped over myself in hurry. I opened the door and got in the same time as she did. The other two cars had already begun to pull away, and she drove right behind them, her eyes only facing the road.

After a few uncomfortable minutes, I spoke first. "So... who's this Money guy I help?"

"His name is Moni, and he runs this city. You just saved his life, you should feel honored."

Somehow, that was the last thing I felt at that moment.


Speak for yourself. I have a feeling this is going to turn out fucking fantastic.

CHAPTER A: WHY THE HELL DIDN'T I SAY NO?

If God would have, for a single moment in his omnipotent existence, have taken the time to give me just the slightest piece of advice, then life would never have been this fucked up.

I'm not asking for too much, just a simple "Watch out for that gang shooting", or an "Ignore the offer to migrate the business, he's only going to exploit you". Instead, I'm sure he just sat up there, looked down on me while he's chilling with Gandhi and half-a-dozen popes, trying hard not to laugh.

Bastard.

But then again, I shouldn't be blaming God for this. I could have easily decided to have never left, just as easily as I could have decided not to return. Instead, I went ahead and did both. And look where that got me.

Of course, you have no idea what I'm talking about. you've so far been at best confused, at worst bored. If the former, then bare with me for a while. If the latter, then fuck off.

This probably isn't for you anyways.

I'd started with a simple dream. To have enough money for a good life, and a smoking hot babe for a wife. Yep, just every ordinary man's dream. And five days into Delhi that dream was out the window, on the street, and already run over by half of the city traffic.

In front of me was just the booze, just the sex, just the drugs. And I loved it. Loved it to the point where I had some very powerful people who wanted to 'talk' to me. Of course, you must want to ask a bunch of questions... what about Parents?

Dead. Never met 'em.

I'm adopted. At least I was till I was old enough to leave. Got the old man to pay for some course in English, the only subject I could deal with, and I ran away from 'home' as fast as I could. And college... well college was great as long as I didn't attend it.  And the grades fell and the attendance fell, and all I could do was hide every trace of evidence. From 'home', from 'parents', from myself.

And then finally...


"You've got little other choice."

"I know."

"So are you going to do it?"

"I don't know."

"But they'll kill you when they find out."

"I know."

"You can't die."

"I know."

"So what are you going to-"

"WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?! IT'S HARD ENOUGH TO BLOODY THINK WITHOUT YOUR BITCHING 24X7!"

"Alright, alright." Arjan held his hands back in defense. "I was just trying to help."

Again, I ran my fingers through my hair, holding the urge to rip clumps of it out. "By reminding me of the facts of my current situation, the last thing you're doing is helping me."

"Credit for trying?"

I threw the pillow at his face and told him to get out. He gave me one last rueful look, before turning out and walking out of my room, slowly closing the door behind him. The second the door closed I was up again, pacing the room as my hands wrestled with themselves. I had to find a way out of this, I had to. In another six hours, that door would open again, only it'd bee three six-foot bastards wielding hockey-sticks like the fucking Matrix. And physical confrontations were not my strong suit.

At least, not yet.

Six hours to go. I chugged down what was left in the glass and sat down on the couch, trying to collect my thoughts. It was like trying to hold the wind in your hands. My head started to spin, my nerves just grew. I closed my eyes, took deep breaths, trying to calm myself...

I opened my eyes, and screamed in shock. An hour! When the hell did it become an hour! I looked around me for the culprit, and threw the bottle of Old Monk against the wall. The glass shattered, jagged shrapnel hitting the walls. A tattoo of run smeared itself across the plaster, thin streaks slowly sliding down until a little puddle started to form at the base of the wall. It was then did I feel the sting on my cheek. I reached my finger up to my face, and took it away to see a thin streak of blood on my fingers. One of the shards must have cut my cheek, but all I could think about was the beating, and then most-certain death. I wondered what they'd do to my body after they were done with me. Would they just leave my body here, or would they make me 'disappear', as though I never existed?

What the hell is wrong with you? You have less than an hour to live, and this is what you're stuck on? Why don't you just plan the funeral on a note to be read while you're at it?


I blinked. That had never happened before.

Obviously it didn't. Because you were never going to die before now, were you? So get your bloody wits together and get out of here before they find you and make a Quentin Tarantino movie out of this room.


I still stood there, rooted in shock and panic. The beating was forgotten. Oh God, I'm going Insane, Oh God, I'm going insane, Oh God I'm going-

Yes, that is something constructive. Start doubting your sanity a little while BEFORE YOU'RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE! This is not the moment for you to be doing this. So just shut up, put some shit into a bag and GET THE BLOODY HELL OUT OF HERE!

The switch flipped. I moved around my room, no longer in motiveless panic, but now with swift sure movements, dumping a handful of clothes in a duffel bag, along with anything else that I could think was important. Turns out, there wasn't much.

Hoisting the bag on my shoulders, I walked out of the room, taking a moment to tentatively peer out of the corridor. Empty. Raju Bhai said he would come by seven, and I still had over half-an-hour left.

Enough time.

I walked down the corridor at what seemed more like a jog. I reached the elevator and was already outside the building before I realized it. Shit, I think I was still drunk at the time. Well, at least I had something to explain for the voice.

Trust me, buddy. You have a lot more than booze to justify me. But right now you just worry about staying alive.

I blinked. There it was again. That strange voice that I couldn't understand. That strange voice-

You call me strange once more, and I'll give you the mother of all headaches, you hear? Now shut the fuck up with your monologues and hail a bloody auto.


I dumbly nodded and shouted out at the next auto that passed. He didn't listen and carried on. Cursing under my breath, I had to repeat the performance until the fifth bastard stopped.

"Kahan?" He asked after spitting out a brilliant red streak of pan on the road beside me. I told him to head for the airport, nothing else made sense. Climbing into the back with my luggage, I headed out praying to reach the terminal in safety.

I will never forget that ride.

My eyes were always searching behind me, trying to see if I could spot anyone familiar in the cars behind. Thank god I didn't. The auto driver grumbled and cursed, but we made the highway in good time. And then he asked me the first question that would warp life as I knew it.

"Domestic ya International jane ka hain?"

I didn't even hesitate. "International. Jaldi."

I was out of the auto before it had even come to a stop. I'd already paid the auto driver, and as I walked briskly towards the terminal, I headed towards my first objective.

The ATM.

Automatic Teller Machine. The lifeblood of any college student. When broke, head to the ATM. When in doubt, head to the ATM. When-

Shut the hell up and withdraw! I though I told you to can it with the bloody monologues.


All right, this will sound silly, but all I could say was 'Yes, Sir' and walked into the booth, shoving my card into the machine. I had thirty-four thousand rupees. I withdrew it all.

Then I snapped the card in half and threw it away.

"Hello!" She smiled. "Where to?"

I looked at the board. I turned back to look at her.

"Hong Kong... You, uh, don't need a visa for there, do you?"

She smiled a fake smile. "Uh, yes sir. As long as your passport is ready (it was) and you have no dangerous articles ( I didn't), you can fly to Hong Kong. If you'd like, I could book you on-"

"The earliest. Yes please."

No one asks questions unless they have too. And fours later, India was behind me. Holy shit, I had just run away from whatever I had to a place that I had never been before, to a life that I didn't even have the slightest clue about. This was, yep this definitely was, one of the lowest points of my life.

Well, at least you've got me for company.

Welcome to the beginning.  The beginning of my end.

Oh, that is so cliched.

Fuck you.

TOO SHORT FOR A PROLOGUE...

Time changes too much. I looked up again as I saw the rain fall down on glass and steel. Towers and spires that bit into the sky. There was nothing here. Now, hundreds go about their daily lives. I stand amongst them, unmoving through their motions.

A daily life...

5 police forces chasing you. None still know your name.
Over a billion dollars made. Over a billion dollars stolen. Over a billion dollars lost.
6 friends still finding you. A single foe still hunting you. None still giving up.
And the whole world which was once my stage... (fucking Shakespeare)

A daily life would have been nice indeed.

They finally saw me. It took them long enough. I could have walked right past them without noticing, disappeared again into thin air. Heh, if I wanted to, I could have even killed them all. Bu that wasn't the plan, not anymore.

Tired. Hurt. I've had enough.

They began to walk briskly, and I could see the slight bulges at the waists and shoulders. Holsters. One of them in front quickly spoke into his wrist, before reaching into his jacket with his hand, keeping it there. Just in case.

At that moment, I was tempted, for just a flash, to spin around. To run like mad with the devil behind me. Looking back, I think that I always ended up enjoying the chases the most. The alleys, the marketplaces, those winding streets. Having a dozen men trying to kill you, or chasing that one rat bastard who somehow always managed to stay one bloody corner ahead! More than the sex, the money, the deals made-

The moment passed. And I remembered Jacinto's final words to me. They finally made sense.

Like magic, the colt fell into my palm. Almost wearily, I raised it to my head, the safety off and the trigger itching. I was surprised at how firm I gripped it. Years of practice had mad it a part of my arm, but I did not think my fears would have actually abandoned me at this moment. I was calm.

Ahead, they saw, realized what was going to happen, and began to run. Fast. As though it wasn't mine, but their lives on the the line. They were closer now, and I could see her clearly amongst them, trying hard to push herself to the front of the group... the fear in her eyes as she screamed for me to stop.

I gave a slight smile to myself. If I could have ever stopped myself, then none of this would have happened in the first place

But now that wouldn't have been any fun at all now, would it?

One last look at her.
And I close my eyes.
Inhale. Exhale.
Pull the trigger.