ZHB Interlude 1
(Aired between Season 1:s episodes 2 and 3)
Interlude 1
A wall of crisscrossed police tape, adorned with ages-old hexagrams spelling out litanies of righteous justice as is tradition for the forces of Zhen Zhou City law, is casually torn down with the flick of a wrist as the man strolls through the empty doorway, surrounded with but the faintest skeleton of walls, and steps into the burnt-out and empty husk of the Magistrate Station.
"All these places at once - pisses me off, is what it does."
His colleague - large, looming, silent - simply walks after him in silence, the lightness of his step and the grace of his movements unexpected in someone of such humongous size.
Here and there, the structure gapes open - walls, roof, the lot has suffered damage from the fiery explosion that had transformed the venerable building into a sad ruin.
Bitter Eye Wong stepped out into the faint light of reflected neon, a sharp flash as he flickers his zippo lighter open and lights up the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looks tense, and pissed.
"Six motherfucking Magistrate stations at fucking once. At once. And no one knows shit about shit, and the fucking Heaven Sword Clan is moving in on us, acting like we´re not worth shit."
"So what, pray tell, are we doing here?" The other man´s voice is deep and rumbling - powerful, though not gravelly. You can feel the bass in your chest as he speaks.
"We´re doing what we´re supposed to do. We´re being cops."
The giant stepped around the open area, dark eyes scanning their surroundings methodically.
"You seek an ulterior motive."
"No fucking shit, gwailo."
The large man crouches down, brushes a finger lightly across a blackened surface, rubbing the ashes between two fingers to feel its´ texture as Wong paces around the building, sniffing the night air like a caged wolf.
"You are not happy to work with me."
"Damn straight I´m not." Wong took a long pull from his cigarette - the glow is a beating, burning pulse in the near-dark, the smoke a thin tendril tasting the night air hungrily. "I´ve got a job to do, and I do it best alone. I´m sure that you´re some kinda hot shot in your own damn country, but I know this one. This is my city. And I don´t want to play baby sitter to some exchange cop when I could be out here getting results."
"And I will be of assistance to the best of my ability."
"Yeah." Wong´s voice is spiteful. "It´s real easy to trust you, me not knowing shit about you. Two Rivers brought you in, allegedly, and now he´s dead in that fucking explosion. And here I am, stuck with a goddamn partner who hides hi face behind a fucking mask."
The large man straightens up, and the light of a passing truck shines in through broken windows to illuminate him dramatically. He looks twice as broad over his arms as Wong is across his shoulders. He is wearing a plain brown suit and pants, a careful tie... and a green and golden luchador mask.
"Every man wears a mask, Bitter Eye Wong. I am no different. I wear my heart and my righteous intentions plain on my face, for all to see."
"Yeah, whatev..."
"We will search this place. As you say, you know this city. I trust in your judgment. I seek only to separate truth from a veil of darkness. This is the path of the righteous man. So says El Diablo Verde."
End interlude 1
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