Shang-Chi slung a bag over his shoulder. After a full day of classes, he still had to go tutor someone.
He glanced at his phone. Sometimes he really wanted to just give in to life.
With a self-mocking smile, he shook his head. How could he give in?
If he did, how would that be any different from going home?
Shang-Chi entered Queens, walking along with his earphones in.
A white-haired old man in a newsboy cap was nearly knocked over by someone, and he swore up a storm.
Watching the figure hurry away, Shang-Chi repeatedly reminded himself not to meddle. "Come on, Sean, you're an ordinary person. You need to keep a low profile."
His feet betrayed him and carried him around a corner.
Several young thugs were dividing up their loot, the old man's wallet in their hands.
One of them, sporting a buzz cut, spotted him and flicked open a switchblade. "You got a problem?"
Shang-Chi glanced at the knife and grinned.
Moments later, the young thugs lay on the ground, groaning.
The old man was bumped into again.
He looked around. "Don't let me catch you."
Shang-Chi had already left. He murmured to himself, "This feels pretty good. No wonder you like it, Peter."
He glanced back at the old man, a smile curling his lips.
The old man was still muttering, "Picking on me just because I don't know kung fu."
Had the night given you black eyes?
No, it hadn't.
The black faded from his eyes, giving way to blue.
But Todd's life faded with it.
He was dead.
The pain had killed him.
Lawrence, the first to rush in, stared in shock at the charred body engulfed in flames.
There was still chocolate stuck to his lips.
The stench of burnt flesh