The air was thick with the smell of greasy smoke mingling with the stench of rotting garbage, as if it had come to a standstill.
A few hoodlums leant against the wall, each with a cigarette in hand, the blinding lights from their motorcycles aimed straight at the window of a bungalow.
Someone inside cursed a few times, then upon sticking their head out and seeing the gang, there was no further noise. They locked the window and drew the curtains in one fluid motion.
The hoodlums laughed smugly, tossing out a few more curses.
Footsteps approached from the distance; the gang members exchanged glances, thinking their "protection fee" business of the day was about to start.
A few seconds later, a figure appeared around the corner.
A tall silhouette, with a stern face.
