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Zhen Zhou City: the Dark Age. Winter. A light snow was falling from the clouded skies over Zhen Zhou City, but the frozen drizzle did not manage to put out the still glowing embers in what remained of the wood portions of Imperial Magistrate Station 306 – instead, the droplets simply conjured up the thick, black smoke from the smoking skeleton of the previously venerable structure. The gaping maw of a stone temple dog - blackened with soot from the flames - lay in a small crater on the sidewalk, mute testament to the force of the explosion that had levelled most of the House of Law. A large car was pulling up to the improvised parking lot outside the area; its´ front lights illuminated a crisscrossed barrier of police tape and chalk outlines before it died down. The doors opened, and the driver stepped out – and then, with a mighty heave of the suspension as the it breathed a sigh of relief and very nearly sent the car bouncing, the mighty bulk of the passenger did likewise. ”Where the hell is fucking Bitter Eye Wong?!” The driver, a lanky young man with a wild near-afro of thick, brown hair shouted out to no one in particular, though several of the people at work with the ruins of the station jumped up as if struck by lightning. We stop in a FREEZE-FRAME of the shouter, and the smattering stock sound of a vintage typewriter spells out the name IRON DOG TSIAN across the screen – Tsian in the process of removing his sunglasses, the wind playign with his loud yet wrinkled suit jacket. His companion is shown only as a huge and abstract shadow somewhere behind him. As the pair walks into the ruined site, Tsian waves his hand in the general direction of the destruction, which is to say all around them. ”Well, as you can see – pretty fucked up. Everyone shat themselves here when this shit went down, and everything happened at once. Gang war? Huh!” He put a cigarette in his mouth and gestured with the beaten-up pack in the direction of his unseen companion (the gesture is waved away with a huge yet polite hand) before lighting it. ”I mean, we´re the fucking cops. Imperial goddamn Law. Who´d have the guts, right?” He looked around to make his point. ”Right. So much for that. You really picked a good time to leave your country for a transfer to Zhen Zhou fucking City, buddy. No offense and shit.” This was answered with a curt yet polite nod from a head attached to impossibly broad shoulders by way of a set of really powerful neck muscles. ”Anyway. We weren´t alone, of course. They say the Clan – that is the Heaven Swords to you, pal – was hit just as bad, and that´s not even counting the hits that the Wulin schools took.” He snorted. ”Yeah, the fucking Wulin kids. Always causing trouble, and always in the middle of it. Don´t get me wrong, because usually I´m all for that shit – the good ones make good warriors, and beating up the bad ones is a true pleasure. It´s like popcorn, ya know? You can´t have just one. Anyway, off track. WHERE THE HELL IS BITTER EYE WONG?!” -Argent * Back to [[ZaijianHoneyBlues|The Front Page!]]
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