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obeisant.
    “Sifu Hung. Sorry, sorry, sir. Just a small disagreement. Nothing
important. ”
    Big Hung. Ko’s blood ran cold. This old man was the senior boss of the
entire 14K triad, half of Hong Kong’s criminal enterprises firmly in the
pocket of this dumpy doughball ex-contender. The youth marvelled at the
idea of it; the stories he had heard about Big Hung’s ruthless nature,
of the fear he instilled in other men—and now to look at him, the
mobster looked like nothing more than a fat old geezer in an expensive
suit. The elderly guy leaned closer. Ko smelled cologne and the faint
aroma of tiger balm.
    Hung gave Ko a measuring stare, and he made it clear he didn’t like what
he saw. “You don’t belong here, boy. Stop bothering my lads and get
lost.” More men were approaching now, Hung’s personal guard. All of them
held shiny handguns in deceptively casual stances.
    “Ko brought a car…” began Rikio, in an attempt to justify himself.
    Hung turned his puppy-like brown eyes on the Vector and sniffed like he
smelt something bad. “Corp wheels? Is this boy a fool?” he asked Rikio,
“He won’t earn our graces by doing a stupid tiling like this.” He gave
the car a dismissive wave. “Burn it.”
    “What?” Ko blurted. “But—”
    Hung eyed Rikio, ignoring Ko so completely that it silenced him. “Torch
it,” he repeated. “And then make the idiot go away.”
     
    For old time’s sake, Rikio let Ko take the bag from the back seat and
leave with just a few bruises and a split lip. By the time he was at the
highway, the night had closed in and unleashed the rain. Feng was
waiting there for him.
    “You lie with pigs, you become dirty,” said the swordsman.
    Ko made a spitting noise and kept walking.
     
    We are not so blind that we cannot see. Do you understand what will
happen when the sky cuts like SILK and the BEAST pours in?
    Do not accept the way of no mind and the CALMNESS of the false
Zen—this is a lie made to entrap you, a coil cast down from the dragons
in the toivers! Turn your face from false IDOLS. Find truth in your
HEART.
    The poison of dead emperors taints the Fragrant Harbour! Touch life
and live! Go on and LIVE!
     
    Excerpt from a tract distributed in Temple Street Market. Origin and
author unknown.

3. Happy Together
    He tried the Banana Dog and the Rama-Rama, Club 19NineTee7 and the House
o’ Boots before he found his Toyomazda Ranger wedged poorly between two
light buses in a side street off Waterloo Road. A few doors down, a
shiny chrome elevator led to the Lucky Dot Bar. So, then. His sister was
back there, making a fool of herself, braying that mock nasal laugh she
put on when she faked amusement at the off-colour jokes of rich guys.
    Ko approached the car and his face fell. She’d left it unlocked—
again
.
The old familiar bite of that special anger and frustration he kept for
his sibling rose and fell in his chest. He slid into the front seat and
made quick and angry work of gathering up MacDee wrappers and dozens of
tiny vodka bottles, the kind that crowded hotel minibars. He threw them
into a public flash-burner and stomped back to the Ranger, the rain
drumming off the awning of the store next to the parked car, clattering
off the sunroof. He sat and watched the silver doorway. Every so often,
two light strips either side of the elevator would illuminate and people
would blunder out, cursing the acrid rain and unfolding their umbrellas.
Mostly they were identikit corps, men and women with little or no
difference to them. Some were fatter than others, some had better suits,
but they all stumbled around the street like they owned it, pushing
people out of their way or kicking at the slow-moving bots that wandered
past them, projecting holo-adverts.
    The evening moved on in slow, unpleasant surges, and Ko took the time to
tape the cuts on his face with a spool of DermFix from the glove
compartment. From behind the steering wheel, in the morose damp, he
glared at the