Prevention

After spending half a month in a hospital bed, George, whom Lin Rui had "stabbed with a bar," was finally discharged.

He had lost a whole size. His steroid-built muscles had deflated, and his three broken ribs felt like three rusty daggers hidden in his chest, aching faintly with every step.

But...

The news that George, Mott Haven Community High School's most notorious bully and a minor leader in the Will-o'-the-Wisp gang, had left the hospital exploded through the neighborhood like a drop of water flung into hot oil.

His pack of disreputable friends gave him no time to rest. That very night, they threw him a "rebirth celebration party" in the backyard of a brightly lit villa.

The villa's backyard had been temporarily converted into a party venue: beer crates were piled around the dilapidated swimming pool, and cheap neon string lights wound around the iron fence.

Deafening music thundered from speakers two meters tall, the bass pounding against everyone's chest like a heartbeat.

The air mingled the scorched stink of marijuana, the pungency of cheap alcohol, and sweaty body odor. Teenage boys and girls crowded together like a pack of wild dogs in heat, twisting, screaming, and shoving without restraint.

George's injuries had not fully healed. Like a bandaged mummy, he lay stiffly on a lounge chair beside the pool.

The intense pain in his ribs meant he could only clutch a half-empty bottle of tequila in one hand, while his other hand hung limply at his side.

A provocatively dressed girl had taken so many drugs that her eyes were unfocused and her steps unsteady. Several underlings held her by the arms, dragging her like a battered rag doll before pushing her in front of George.

A chorus of jeers instantly erupted. "Go on! Celebrate for George!" "Show him a good time!" The girl knelt, her disheveled hair falling over her face, and mechanically began to "service" him.

George grinned and laughed with a sickly satisfaction.

During a break in the music, an underling with dyed green hair came over and shouted, "George! We're planning to give you a big present to cheer you up!"

George narrowed his eyes and swirled the bottle in his hand, his voice hoarse. "What present?"

The green-haired underling grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. "That Asian kid who stabbed you into the hospital-we've figured out his daily routine.

"He gets to the food truck in Central Park at six thirty every day, goes to the gym in the afternoon, and returns to the church at night. We're going to cripple him. Cripple him for good, and let everyone know who's boss in Mott Haven."

George's chest suddenly spasmed, as though his broken ribs had been cracked all over again. He remembered how that cold barbell bar had felt half a month ago, plunging straight into his chest like a venomous snake.

The agony, suffocation, and humiliation of that moment had seared his mind like a branding iron. An Asian who should have known his place had actually dared to fight back? Had actually dared to beat him like this?

He could not swallow this insult.

Unless he reasserted his dominance, he would have no way to keep his place in the Will-o'-the-Wisp gang, much less keep raking in money from gang activities.

The underling continued, his voice turning nastier. "And that idiot called Toby. He dared to attack us that day too. We can't let him off either.

"Oh, right. Remember that little bitch Molly?

"She shaved off her half-shaved hairstyle recently, changed into pretty dresses, and started wearing a wig to school, like some good little girl. Looks like she wants to clean up her act and leave us."

George's expression instantly darkened. He abruptly raised his foot and kicked away the girl kneeling before him. She rolled aside like a rag, letting out a pained whimper.

George panted heavily. The pain in his ribs brought sweat to his forehead, but only stoked his brutality. "Those idiots... They begged to join the gang back then, and now they don't want to play with us anymore?"

The jeering in the backyard grew louder. Some people whistled; others smashed bottles in celebration.

The green-haired underling gave a sinister smile and patted George's shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll take care of it. First we cripple that Asian, then we deal with Toby, and finally we drag Molly back and make her kneel down to service you."

He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only George could hear. "From now on, the whole neighborhood will have to obey us. No exceptions."

George tipped his head back and took a huge gulp of liquor. It ran down his chin onto his bandages, staining them dark red. His mouth spread into a savage, twisted grin.

The neon lights in the villa's backyard flashed wildly, and the music roared like a beast. George slowly sat upright on the lounge chair. His broken ribs burned with agony, but he did not care.

While the Will-o'-the-Wisp gang's thugs partied at the villa, Lin Rui drove slowly past outside in the old pastor's pickup.

He could see a police car parked nearby. Two officers were knocking on the villa's door, probably because nearby residents had complained about the noise.

Only after they had knocked for a long time did a drunken, half-naked woman emerge from the villa. Her slip dress hung askew, her smeared makeup made her look like a ghost, and her eyes were unfocused.

She mumbled a few answers to the officers' questions. Suddenly, her legs gave way, and she collapsed directly onto the doorstep like a puppet with its strings cut, lying motionless.

The two officers exchanged a glance and shrugged.

One put on gloves and dragged the woman aside like a piece of garbage.

They went into the backyard and made a token effort to shout, "Turn it down!" and "You're disturbing the neighbors!" But their only response was louder jeering and the sharp crash of bottles deliberately being smashed.

Those punks were not afraid of the police at all. Instead, they treated this as part of the show, screaming, whistling, and raising their middle fingers as though celebrating another "victory."

The officers stayed less than five minutes before leaving in frustration.

This neighborhood was too poor to organize even a decent homeowners' association, and police staffing was always at the lowest level.

The police could not be bothered to take it seriously either-warning delivered, job done, back to drinking coffee.

Lin Rui turned off the headlights and sat in the pickup with its engine off, using the dark street to conceal himself. After the officers who had knocked left, he turned his gaze toward the still-noisy villa.

The party continued, louder and livelier than ever.

Lin Rui checked the time. It was nearly midnight. He should have been delivering food at the Gershwin Theatre, but he had handed tonight's work to Toby.

Gangs liked recruiting newcomers from bad schools best. Most students at those schools came from single-parent, impoverished, or immigrant families and lacked supervision and care.

The old pastor truly had compassion for the suffering and a heart devoted to a greater cause, trying to rescue these children who had gone astray from the gangs.

But although the old man in his sixties or seventies could raise funds, he had no way to drag those idle, careless children into church.

The hope of recruiting "heads" had been placed on Lin Rui, with substantial cash rewards promised. Lin Rui soon realized that the task had two difficulties.

First, as an Asian, getting those teenagers to obey him was nothing short of a fool's dream.

Even getting Toby and Molly into the gym had taken the utmost effort from their two mothers, Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Anderson.

As for children like "Bean Sprout" Vincent, they approached Lin Rui purely out of an instinctive fear of gangs, or because gang members were already bullying them and they wanted someone to shelter them.

Lin Rui had no intention of personally recruiting "heads." He outsourced the job to Adrian-two hundred dollars a "head" brought out all the brutality hidden deep in the Mexican's heart.

On the other hand, Lin Rui did not want Adrian clashing with the gangs. A charity project had to remain respectable; if it turned into a storm of blood, it would be hard to wrap things up.

If some truly serious crime occurred, the old pastor would lose face too. So Lin Rui had to handle certain dirty jobs himself, silently and without a trace.

His first target was George, just out of the hospital-the fellow had already found a lawyer and filed a lawsuit, accusing Lin Rui of "unlawfully inflicting grievous bodily harm."

The case was currently working its way through the process, and the opposing lawyer was gathering evidence.

Although the old pastor had reassured Lin Rui that the surveillance cameras he had installed provided absolutely solid evidence, getting involved in a lawsuit in the United States was hardly a good thing-drawn-out, complicated, and especially expensive.

Lin Rui did not want to be dragged into a meaningless lawsuit and waste his time. He had to take preventive action and strangle this hidden danger in its cradle.

Finding George was not difficult.

Toby provided an approximate location. Lin Rui drove around the nearby blocks twice, and Malice Detection gave him the precise direction.

Midnight, exactly twelve.

With a belly full of alcohol, George was already dazed. Even the roar of heavy metal could not clear his head. Besides, because his ribs hurt, he had also snorted some powder to liven things up.

The nightmare descended.