Piao Jie at night might not be suitable for wandering. Gangsters, thugs, junkies. The usual.

The thing about Chinatown and whoever lives here is they don't want trouble. The Qin's control over this district is one of the most absolute in Euforia. In a certain way, it makes the streets here safer than most. Crimes are a family business here. And Chinatown is their kingdom which they rule with iron fists. But it also makes the Qins on these streets loads of arrogant cunts since they can literally do whatever they want.

Years ago, the city police change their methods of assigning forces. Officers in different precincts are no longer assigned by the central. They're recruited by the locals within that district. That was the last stroll. Now the policies are like inflatable tube man. Waving, smiling on the streets...... for most of the places. Except for downtown, the business center and Monclea. That policy implies they have given up on any southern or western parts of the city, all they care about is to protect the safety and interests of the rich and powerful in town. Thus the gangs in the other areas became the law in their separate kingdoms.

That situation is especially severe in Piao Jie and Desalos as I said. They are the laws here. And considering the delicate relationship I have with them it's best to avoid rector street and other main roads. So after leaving Jiu Lou. I start heading south.

Close to the avenue right now. The number of gangsters and middle age-old women in shady alleys or just flat-out standing under lamp polls is getting higher and higher. I'm not at the Glen yet but I can already see some stores with Ukiyo-e women painted on unnoticeable entrances and establishments looking like they were made by neon tubes. These are the indecent businesses that fail to compete with the ones on the avenue, so decided to relocate to some of the less aggressive places. Nevertheless owned by the Qins. But the suits are less seem in comparison to other places.

Heading west on a parallel street of the avenue. Except for some teenagers who just had a wild night out, a couple of black vehicles passing by, and some local thugs or young ruffians. There's nothing of note. I walk quickly with my head low and both hands in my jacket pockets. Most just gave me a quick glance and ignores me. A group of delinquents was walking straight toward me but took a step left after I gave them a glare. I'm back in Nochnaya shortly after.

***

Vera said I hate Noch. A part of me does. The shining, uncaring neon lights, muggers in dark alleyways, and running into 'patrols' are all annoying as fuck.

But there's something about this place. The cold and violent stories these concrete pavements and brick walls tell, the familiar faces in Icebreaker, and the streets I knew inside out.

Yes, this place is a shitty neighborhood. But it's the closest thing I can call home.

The southern side of Noch is a maze made of identical apartment buildings and narrow alleyways. Only a few miles north of the public housing area. I can see about eight youngsters smoking at the park entrance not far from here. Some nights, I'll walk past them on purpose. But not tonight. I'm fucking tired.

Dashing to one of the dark alleys. I start heading north. Turn left at the back of a burger joint. Go straight through the unloading area of a motel. Another right when I see a fat drunk sleeping by the wall.

Snaking through buildings and flashing yellow lights until the sound of partygoers carrying each other out from pubs and clubs became noticeable again. I take another right and return to one of the main roads. Following two wobbly walking women in leather skirts and high heels(one of them is broken) for five more blocks I take another right, went straight through Lesnaya, and keep heading north. Until I reached the residential area again.

The Kirov Kvadrat. Or Kirov for short. It refers to the area between Via Martinase and the club area around Lesnaya. It's not exactly a 'square'. But a small district of brick buildings and less bustling streets. Cantinas, restaurants, shops, and stores of all kinds. This part is considered the most inhabitable area of Noch. Russian mobs still roam the streets, and juvenile gangs still eager to put in big-boy pants and join the major leagues of dying young.

Except for the apartments being a bit more spacious and the streets a bit quieter at night. There aren't too many differences from the southern part.......from an outsider's perspective.

My home is located at the center of it. West of the park, east of the metro station. A five stories high building between self-service laundry and a grocery store. An unremarkable apartment building in white and brick red. The blinds behind windows on the first four floors are all tightly shut.

***

It took me a while minute before I find the right key for front door. The moisture had bent the door, putting more pressure on the frame making it even harder to open. Pushing open with some effort the heavy black door finally swung open shakily.

The sensor light on all five floors immediately shines with 3400k warm lights. Which I had contractors install.

I should get them to fix the damn door too? The idea flashes through my mind before I forget two seconds after as I raise my head looking up the staircases.

My place is on the top floor.

It's 3:14 a.m. I drag myself up the stairs. Every step on the wooden stairs makes a loud squeaky noise which is the only thing keeping me awake right now. I'm not too concerned about the neighbors since it's unlikely anyone would want to get out of their beds, walk outside, and bang on the front door in the middle of the night. Even if anyone does have the strong fucking will do it. James, John, Juan, and Johan will never answer. And I sure as hell ain't either.

As the spiral stairs finally end in front of a black panel door with a bronze door knocker on it. A sudden rush of tiredness creeps in from the back of my head and spread all the way down my toes.

The kind of feeling you have when you reach the front yard of your house, reaching a place of safety, comfort, and rest. Feeling like you can finally be relaxed as your subconscious recognizes this place and ties it with comfort. Making you drop your guard as you approach.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

I spent a lot of time and money to make me feel that way.

Twisting the handle. The bulletproof door swung open silently. I'm greeted by darkness and the sound of a slow and steady beeping sound from the inside. Opening a shelf on the porch next to the door. I type in the code on a small pad installed on the end of it. The small vibrating sound stops, as my home lights up automatically.

I'm way too fucking tired to care about the security stuff. I kick the door close with my left leg. Lock all the locks. I pull out my 9mm in my shoulder holster and place it on the porch. Walk through my messy living room, and climb up the stairs to my open bedroom. And starts throwing stuff to an empty table by the widow which I placed there specifically for this.

The brass knuckle, inhaler, wallet, phone, matches from Ivan, dagger in my left sleeve, knives by my ankle, my watch, pack of cigarettes, and two magazines. I take a look at the sword Qin Yan gave me...... and throw it on the table next to other shit.

I take off my jacket and hang it on the coat rack at the corner next to my closet. Walking past the full-length mirror on the wall across my bed, I can't help but notice how much smaller I look without my bomber jacket. Taking off my holster I found an empty space in my closet for it.

Finally, I kick my sneakers off, ignoring the sound behind me suggesting one of them fall down the stairs. Pulling out my 1911, the absence of the familiar weight on my lower back left me feeling naked. I check the safety and chamber before placing it on my nightstand, the handle towards the bed.

After it was down I allowed myself to fall face down onto my bed. But a solid object pressing against my thigh made me get up again. checking my trouser pockets I found the bronze pocket watch I bought in Chinatown. A slow and steady tick-tock fills the silent bedroom.

I gave it one more glance before turning the crown a few times and putting it next to my gun.

Falling back onto my bed again, my hand found the master control while my head refuses to leave the pillow. Pushing it left me in the dark again. No illumination except the moonlight from outside, alms me the most it can pours through the window. Not much, but enough to make me feel annoyed even with my eyes closed.

I turned around and stare at my own reflection in the body-length mirror.

I look like a corpse. Face too pale, lips too red. Like a juggler with too much makeup. My hair looks messier than earlier. And my eyes ......... well, what am I expecting?

The words from Ivan ring in my mind. When you're laying in bed, staring at the ceiling till you fall asleep..... I force my eyes to shut closed and tell Ivan's voice to go fuck himself. As I open my eyes I imagine the person in the mirror as a stranger again.

Hello you.

Hello me.

I close my eyes and count to ten. My conscious gave up on four.

***

There are three sets of lights. Types and shapes change throughout a period of time. But the brightness remains the same. The bare minimum is to be called a light.

One is at the far right of the bar counter above the faceless bartender. One is on top of the entrance. One is at the left of the bar counter, above a table of three old men bickering, sipping their beer with political opinions to go with it.

The lights presented the dust in the air, wavering between staying and falling. The ones that chose the letter make the light brown wooden floor look ceremonious.

Salt on a closed casket.

I was here and not. I know the surrounding but I'm not a part of it.

Until he shows up. The doorbell hanging in the air announces a new customer arrived. No one pays him any attention.

Suddenly I find myself sitting at the far right side of the counter, on an unstable high chair. I'm in a white hoodie. A half-empty glass of whiskey in front of me. Judging by the distance, I had purposely pushed it away.

Surprisingly I'm in a good mood despite being in a place like this. Toying a coin of the foreign country.

I ignored the doorbell at first but as the sound of heavy leather boots gets closer and closer behind me. I turn around right before he sits down next to me.

A well-dressed man...... at least he was one. Dirty black coat with mud on the edge. A pair of worn-out leather gloves (especially knuckles), the gray vest, and the white office shirt inside are pretty clean tho. From this angle, I can not see his face clearly as he's taller than me and his coat collars are up. But from strays of grey hair and a certain calm and uncaring attitude in his eyes. I would say he's in his 50s.

The bartender seems oblivious to this man's existence as he carries on rinsing the already spotless glass.

Man rests his elbows on the counter holding his hands close together as if praying. The sound of leather creaking was produced. He shut his eyes for a moment. I took the chance and move my body forward, my stomach against the counter. Just when I'm about to see his face those eyes suddenly open, staring down mine with a terrifying flash of rage. I repelled back to my pose before.

"You seem like a precocious young lad." A primordial fear in me rises when I hear his voice. I can't tell why but it's like staring at a dark tunnel with untold horrors in there. You couldn't tell what was inside, but every instinct is telling you to run.

"I've got an offer...... it'll be worth your time." Judging from five lines of crow's feet. He's smiling. I take a deep breath.

"What do you want?"

".......Stories. Yours for mine."

***

I jump out of bed with cold sweats all over my back. Heavy breathing continues for two more minutes as I sit on my bed.

My dreams typically have three types: Nightmares, Memories, and Illogical bullshit. That felt like all three combined.

I shake my head violently trying to get myself together but only results in one of the worst headaches and obnoxiousness I had in a long time. My vision is clouded by purple and red dots.

Feels like someone cracked my head with a pickaxe and dump asphalt in it.

I lie back down on bed and start pressing down on my right purlicue to ease the urge of puking on my own floor.... or bed. Staring at the ceiling, glitter from the left corner stings my eyes. The mirror reflects sunlight to my face, signaling the sun has been up for a while.

I reach for my nightstand blindly and almost bump my lamp down. My head feels like it's going to explode or melt if I move it in the slightest motion. I try again. This time I feel the cold grip of my gun.

After three more attempts, I grab the pocket watch. 11:14....... I let out a sign and put it back as the ticking sound escalates my headache.

Another twenty minutes or so pass, and the stars in my vision slowly fade into the background.

Slowly, slower than someone with Parkinsonism. I sit up on my bed.

Why the fuck did I took that much?

Package, Vera, Ivan, Qin Yan, blood oath, Liu Jiu, and that asshole Nan. Events and faces flash through my head.

Oh. Right.

Rotating my body to the side of the bed. The cold wind from central air conditioning and the sweat made me sneeze resulting in another wave of headache. Stumbling up, rejoicing my leg is still working. I put on a black plush jacket from my closet. Walking up to widowside table, I grab my watch too. Walking down the stairs with my hand on the wall. I started my day by opening the TV.