Aines—Southwest District
The cold wind before dawn swept through the somewhat old streets. The rain had gradually stopped, leaving only a few solitary pedestrians on the broad road.
Along the streets and in the alleys, old tents had been zipped shut.
The cold, desolate wind swept over the wet old tents, making faint rustling sounds that were so clear in the dim night.
Of course, not everyone had a tent of their own. Some sat at the edges of streets and alleys, in places that could barely keep off the rain, wrapped in thick coats and leaning against walls as they struggled to sleep.
Yet ahead of them, vendors with roadside stalls still had their lights on.
"Yo, old man, you're still awake?"
A speeding vehicle tore down the street, splashing muddy water into the air. A young man walked up to Old Man, a clothes vendor, and said with a grin, "Time to pay up."
"Didn't I just pay yesterday?" Old Man froze, unable to stop himself from protesting.
"Didn't you hear? Our boss died." The young man rummaged through the clothes at the stall. "Shouldn't you donate something? Make our boss's funeral a little more lavish?"
"But we just paid yesterday..." Old Man said timidly, but before he could finish, he saw the young man's vicious glare.
He swallowed the rest of his words, slowly bent down, and pulled a small iron box from beneath a clothes rack. He asked carefully, "How much do you want?"
"Hand it over." The young man reached directly for the iron box.
Old Man backed away in terror, but he was far slower than the young man.
Bang--
A hand reached out from thin air, grabbed the young man's wrist, twisted it, and threw him into the muddy water by the street.