Night fell, and the Bronx was noticeably darker than the other boroughs of New York. People here were used to going home early. The worsening public safety situation put everyone under pressure, not just civilians, but the police as well.
The growing number of protests had everyone on edge. The police had even been forced to deploy a third of the Bronx force on nighttime patrols. Flashing police lights could be seen on almost every street. Pedestrians lowered their heads and hurried past, annoyed by the police officers' scrutinizing gazes, but unable to do anything about it.
Two police officers, one old and one young, leaned against their patrol car with their eyes half-closed, resting. Suddenly, they heard someone call out. Looking up, they saw a Chinese youth standing before them, carrying a large stack of meal boxes.
"Officers, your dinner."
"Oh, aren't you the kitchen helper from that restaurant at the very end of Chinatown? We didn't order anything from your place today." The younger officer sounded confused.
The older officer was already familiar with the routine. He took the stack of meal boxes, while the younger officer watched his movements in confusion. The older officer took a drag from his cigarette, looked at the youth, and said, "Don't worry. There are people guarding both entrances to Chinatown. The troublemakers won't make it to your place."
"Oh, right. Tomorrow morning, you'll need to open two hours late. Someone's going to pass through the intersection in front of your restaurant. They're Rat Teeth's men from Black Street, and there'll definitely be gunfire. Tell your boss to stay inside and not come out, or he'll catch a bullet."
The Chinese youth pressed a hand to his chest and let out a long breath. "Thank you so much, Officer. If you hadn't