Manhattan at night possessed an indifferent, austere air. When the black of shadows intertwined with the white of lights, it resembled the eyes of some colossal beast opening along the coastline. Everything here was nothing more than nameless dust drifting before its eyes. Whether birth or death, it regarded all things before it with equal indifference.
"Good evening, sir." A white-gloved hand opened the car door. The potbellied man got in. The driver walked around the car and returned to the driver's seat. As the engine started, the scent of cigars filled the cabin.
"That bastard Kyle made the boss unhappy. You need to send someone to deal with him soon. And if that useless little punk in your family doesn't want to lose another fortune on stocks, tell him to dump Stuart's shares right the fuck now..."
The man in the backseat took another deep drag on his cigar, thick smoke curling around his nose and mouth. He spoke loudly on the phone, coughing or sniffling now and then. It was not until the car rolled over a puddle and jolted that he pulled the phone away from his ear and called out to the driver.
"What the fuck was that? Why hasn't anyone fixed this shitty road?"
"Sorry, sir. This is the edge of the Brooklyn District, so the road conditions aren't very good. If you're not in a hurry, I can slow down..."
Before he could finish, high beams flashed from the opposite direction. The driver slammed on the brakes, and the man in the backseat smashed his head hard against the headrest in front of him. "Oh, shit!"
Before he could say anything, he saw the other car suddenly reverse, then ram into them again. With a bang, the car he was in was knocked backward