"I hear congratulations are in order, Peter: word is, you've passed that PI exam."

"Yeah. Captain Blaisdell says he'll get me on a retainer, working as a consultant for things that impact Chinatown." Peter grinned as he and Lu Wong walked down the street, coffees in hand, breath white in the cold air. "I've got a point of contact in the station— he's even going to mentor me a bit. Granted, he is some kind of computer nerd, but..."

Lu nodded, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and sticking it in his mouth. "Working with them, though... don't you think it's dangerous? They wouldn't listen to you about that Jorgenson creep."

"I know." Peter sighed, watching Lu trying to get his lighter to flame up with one hand. Flick, flick, flick. "But let's face it, if I'm going to get them to take me seriously about that, I've got to earn their trust. And this is step one."

"What if that cop kills you in the mean time?"

"Fed. Anyway, he won't. He came after me because of my father. Whatever's between the Shadow Assassins and my father... he says it's not over, but I think Jorgenson's going to lie low. And having a real in with the cops is going to give us both some protection."

"You think." Peter pulled out a lighter, offering the flame to Lu. "What do you have a lighter for? You don't even smoke."

"Someone needs to light the candles when the Ancient wants to meditate," Peter shrugged. "Look, you said I needed more allies. That's what the cops are: allies."

"They're not— I meant allies like me. People in the community, in the Tongs, not..." Lu puffed on his cigarette, then waved his hand to disperse the smoke and gave an audible sigh. "Well, now that you're all... cop-adjacent, you probably don't need me for all your information. Will I still see you around?"

"You're kidding, right? Talking to people is most of the job! Besides... finding out where my Pop lives might still be beyond my capabilities."

The information broker looked at Peter sideways. "You tailed him three days ago. Are you really saying you don't know where he is?"

Peter shook his head. "He's a Shaolin priest, he probably... felt me with his Shaolin chi-gung or something. He disappears into alleys every time I get too close. I'm pretty sure I've figured out the building, but..."

"Maybe he doesn't want you to visit."

Peter frowned, considered it for a moment, then shook his head again. "He told me I should find him. I'm sure if I— hang on." He stopped suddenly, looking across the street to where the pair could hear the clatter of a store display hitting the ground. His face had fallen, and he pressed his coffee cup into Lu's free hand. "Hold this for me, will you? I need to deal with something."

He didn't wait for a reply, but crossed the street, putting himself into the serious mode of... what was he now? Certainly not Triad enforcer. Not police, either. Protector of the community was the best title he had, and he still wasn't entirely sure that was the correct term.

At any rate, he walked in on two men, menacing a middle aged woman in the nail salon, the girls cowering in fear. One of the men had a hand painfully tight around the shopkeep's wrist, and Peter could catch a glimpse of metal on his knuckles. The other was flicking a knife in and out of its casing, a grim threat. Both had their backs to the door as he entered.

"Maybe you haven't heard," said Peter, "but this street is under the protection of—" One of the two, the one with the knife, turned to look at him. His eyes widened. He shook his head at the comment. "Jack? I thought you went to Philadelphia with Chan."

"I came back," said Jack. "Money's better here, and... well, things got hot over there." He grinned. "C'mon. You didn't think you could keep the protection racket to yourself forever, did you?" He looked into Peter's face, then cut him off before Peter could voice his denial. "Heard you bested Tan's maze of death. Congratulations."

"I wouldn't exactly say I did that," said Peter. "Pop just dragged me along. We barely got out alive."

"But you did get out." Jack said approvingly. "Shows how strong you are. And, well, we all know what happened to Tan. But how are you doing? Losing your father's support must have been difficult."

"That's the least of my problems these days." Peter shrugged uncomfortably. "I was working as a bouncer up near the university, but taking down the local dealer network has made me persona non grata." He shook his head as Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Look, Jack, you've got to back off. Chinatown's not going to be profitable for you. These women don't owe you anything."

"You were always trying to get them off the hook, Peter." Jack flipped his knife a few times. "Mrs Hua and her girls need to understand that their debts weren't cleared with Tan's death."

"Their debts?" Peter looked around the store. The frightened faces of young immigrant women who'd been brought into the country to be near slaves were staring at him, asking him for salvation. But the Triad was gone, and Peter was the closest thing to an inheritor that Tan had in this country. "If anyone owns those, it's me, and I say they're free and clear."

"You've got to be kidding," he laughed, but sobered quickly when Peter didn't return a smile. "You know, some people are saying you broke ranks. I don't think you can clear anyone's debts." At that, the hand around Mrs Hua's arm let go, and a second pair of dark black eyes looked at Peter, putting his fists up with a predatory smile.

"You're going to hurt yourself," muttered Peter as he shook his head at the triangle tattoos and swatted the fists away. "I was never in the ranks, Jack, you know that. Tan wanted me as an outsider."

"That's semantics. If you were already family, why would you need to swear an oath?"

"Tan tried to kill me. You tried to kill me."

"You know that was just business, Peter. C'mon. Let bygones be bygones, man."

Peter stared at his former friend for a while, then shrugged. "Look, things have changed since we last saw each other. I'm protecting this community without Tan's backing, and the cops have my back these days."

"With the cops? Really?" Jack paused for a moment, then nodded amiably. "Well, what you do on your own time is your business, I guess. But it's a good thing we ran into each other, Peter. I was supposed to go looking for you sometime tonight. You've got an invitation to see him at 10."

"Him?"

"What, did you think I came here on my own? Of course there's real backing." Jack nodded significantly as Peter suppressed a groan. This could only mean one thing: the Triad was back, and there was a new leader in town. "You're not going to turn it down, are you? I don't really want to throw down with you— you're a friend. Family, even. And, by the way, that's word from on high."

Peter shook his head in annoyance. "I told you, I didn't take the oath. I am not family." He pursed his lips. Turning down a polite invitation was just going to get him a less polite invitation somewhere down the line. "Still, I guess I should pay my respects," he said. "Welcome him to the neighborhood, all that."

"Here's the address." Jack reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a card for a fancy new restaurant. "Wear a suit, the new guy's big on formality."

"So was my father," said Peter.

"Yeah. You know..." Jack shook his head. "You're pretty damned casual about his murder."

"Was I supposed to let him kill me?" Peter frowned at him. "Look, are we going to fight, or you going to get out of here?"

"Not a big deal. We'll go. Just remember the appointment: I don't want to have to come after you again." He jerked his head, and he and his fellow Triad member headed out the door.

Peter watched as they went, keeping a strong defensive stance in case either decided to turn back around and try to take him on. When they were gone, he let out a breath along with the tension he'd been trying to hide. "Always another problem, eh, Mrs Hua?"

"I thought they were gone," said the woman. "We thought we were safe."

"So did I," Peter muttered with a shrug before he grabbed one of the girl's chairs, setting it back upright without much enthusiasm.

Ding! The little bell on top of the door sounded as Lu entered, eyes taking in the room. He whistled at the damage, and Peter looked at his unsurprised face. "Triad really did a number here," he said. "Good thing you were around."

"Yeah. Lucky coincidence." He grabbed Lu's cigarette and threw it in the garbage. "Don't smoke in the stores."

Lu scowled, then shook it off. "Listen, about those allies... Jimmy Ma wants you to know that we'll back you, if you want to push them out. He doesn't like the new guy. Something about weapons bringing heat down on the whole community. Thing is, the way I see it? You'd probably have to take over, or it wouldn't work."

"Are you kidding me? I don't want to take over—" Peter paused in his clean up efforts and turned around, a feeling like betrayal blossoming in his chest. Lu hadn't run in the same circles as Peter. There was no reason he'd have recognized Jack on sight, and the other thug's tattoos weren't big enough to merit notice on a casual viewing. Especially not with the two men leaving the building. "You knew they'd be shaking this place down." The other man shrugged. "Why didn't you just tell me the Triad was back in town, Lu?"

"Of course I knew. I have a business interest here. I deal in information." He shook his head, offering a set of nail files for the girls to put away. "And I brought you here so you'd find them, not the other way around. I did you a favor."

Sure, brought him here so that Peter could fight a couple of toughs from his old life. He shook his head. Lu didn't know the history, not really. How could anyone know it? Peter wasn't even sure he had wrapped his head around it sometimes. "I don't like being blindsided," he said.

"Look, I'm sorry," said Lu, putting the coffee cup back in Peter's hand. "I thought maybe you needed to remember what they're like. What that does to the community. Maybe it'd, I don't know, convince you to take us up on the offer." Peter shook his head. "Still, you got them to leave without any of that kung fu you're semi-famous for. To be honest, I always took you for the sort of guy who punches his problems' lights out."

"Jack was my friend once," muttered Peter, feeling suddenly tired. "Are you going to be okay, Mrs Hua?" The woman nodded, and, despite being obviously shaken, stepped forward as a customer came in for an appointment. Peter took that as their cue to leave, and dragged Lu into an alleyway.

"Make it up to me, Lu. Tell me everything Jimmy Ma told you about the new leader of the Triad."

Shh. Shh. Shh-st-st-shh.

Lo Si looked up at the church, feeling the presence of evil. He had felt it in the city for several days now, darkening the mood of the people around it, causing brief moments of unaccounted for fear, or anger, or pain.

Shh-st-st-st-shh.

The building itself was relatively modern; one from the founding of the city might have had a problem with a ghost rising from slumber, but a holy place, even when built over a graveyard, rarely had that sort of issue. The entrance itself was a bit older, or perhaps just made to seem so, with cobblestones being swept by a large young man.

Shh. Shh. Shh.

The Ancient opened the gate and walked into the middle of the courtyard. Even that short distance, perhaps a few meters from the sidewalk, and he felt the dark aura weighing down upon him. What was here?

Shh-st-st-st-st— "Oh, sorry!" The Ancient turned to look at the sweeper, who had just hit him with his broom. The young man smiled. "I'm Lawrence. They let me work here!"

"Ah!" The Ancient felt the aura of a man in pain, a man who had felt great loss, and one who had lost something of himself in the bargain. "I am called the Ancient," he said. "Because I am very old."

Lawrence smiled, a bright but vacant smile. "Oh, yes, that makes sense."

Such loss— such darkness hid behind that smile. The Ancient couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. "The path into the light often seems darkened by shadows," he muttered to himself.

"There are fragments of light in the darkness," replied Lawrence.

The Ancient looked up suddenly and smiled. "Indeed, you are correct. There can be no darkness without light." Lawrence stared at him without a thought in his head. Perhaps the old man should not feel sad for him— perhaps young Lawrence was more in tune with the Dao than any Shaolin priest. "The greatest wisdom may seem childish," he said with a smile. "Tell me, Lawrence. That building there... what is it?"

"Oh, that's the rectory. That's where the priests from St Joseph live! I clean in there, too."

The priests? They lived in a place with such a darkness? The old man frowned. Surely, they could not live easily with such an evil aura, but... it was their home. Was it his place to cleanse it? Did not the great book say, give evil nothing to oppose and it will disappear by itself?

And yet, it had grown over the past few days rather than diminished.

He walked another few steps, Lawrence trailing behind him like a puppy, but the feeling of evil grew beyond expectation. This place... something was here that would harm the community, perhaps the entire city, but the Ancient did not have the tools to clear it.

He turned, and Lawrence was right behind him. "There's something wrong inside. That's why you're here, right?"

The Ancient nodded gravely. "You see more than others," he said quietly. "If you must enter that building, you must be very careful inside, Lawrence."

"Yes, I know. Father Robles said so, too. He said he's going to fix things."

The Ancient nodded and took another look back at the rectory. Perhaps the Catholics would be able to deal with whatever they had brought here, perhaps not. Either way, he would prepare for injuries... and for the potential battle.

The Tse Liang was clearly a very expensive place. It might have been unassuming from the outside, but inside? Someone had pulled all the stops. A sophisticated red-lit dragon circled a clearly expensive bar top— shiny black marble of some sort— surrounded by chairs made of expensive looking bronze and wood. The tables were dark-stained cherry, each with expensive plate settings. There were booths hugging the walls with curtained entranceways, and a massive mural with a painting of trees in all four seasons circled above them.

Peter looked around uncomfortably as he walked in, trying to keep his front of arrogant confidence as close to the surface as he could. He was wearing the most expensive suit he owned, one that he'd stolen from Tan after the man's death, and he still didn't feel that he'd worn something high end enough for this place.

The darkness outside seemed to permeate into the restaurant. The hours hadn't been listed on the door— Peter supposed that would be as crass as putting prices on the menu.

He remembered the first time Tan had brought him to a place like this. Xia was graduating from high school, with the expected top marks. She'd been accepted into HKU, MIT and Stanford, and Tan had been rightly proud of her. He'd brought some of his lieutenants and ordered for the whole family, dishes Peter had never had before as well as others that were far more common, yet "elevated for the discerning palette" according the the waiter who'd looked at Peter with a rather haughty air... Xia overheard him later that evening when she'd walked by the kitchen, calling Peter a dirty little gwailo. Later that night, her words still ringing in his ear, Peter had found the waiter smoking by a dumpster and hit him until his face was red with blood. The man was still breathing when Xia found the pair. "He won't say that about our Little Yazi again," she'd laughed and handed him a warm wet towel. When he'd cleaned his hands, the heavy white fabric had been very nearly the same color as the walls in the Tse Liang...

He shook the memory away.

There was only one booth with the curtains open, and he gathered up his pride as he walked towards it, almost ignoring the escort that was far too close to him. Lu hadn't known the name of the new leader, only that he was big in arms dealing and was somehow tied to the Republic of China— or, as it was more commonly known in the West, Taiwan.

"It has been several years since I saw you last, Peter Tan."

Tan? Peter blinked and stared at the man. Asian, his hair just a little bit more grey than black, a well-lined, triangular face but strong hands and a wiry, muscled body under a sharp Chinese-styled business suit— he did know this man. Not well, but this wasn't some unknown from Hong Kong who'd decided to take up residence. "Li Sung?"

The other man stood and offered a brief smile before looking at Peter seriously and nodding at the bench. "Sit, Peter. We have things to discuss."

It was not exactly a request, but Peter wouldn't have dared to disobey the order even if the enforcer behind him didn't have a gun surreptitiously pointed at his back. The seat was cushioned and comfortable, but it had been designed for a slighter clientele than Peter, whose large, muscled legs nearly touched the Triad leader's.

"I expected to see you at your father's funeral."

Peter looked down. "I was never my father's son. Not officially."

There was a slight nod, an acknowledgement of fact. "Legitimacy has little bearing on people like us. You still command the loyalty of those who remained, yet you did nothing to consolidate his positions."

Peter looked up in surprise. Their loyalty? That was certainly news, considering none of them had approached him, and the only one who'd talked to him since returning had needed to look for him for Li Sung's purposes. "Well, it's clear that you're the leader now, Li Sung." Did he see Peter as some kind of threat to his control over the organization? "I never took the oaths, either, so any loyalty is misplaced. Tan didn't want me to—"

"You are the son of the old dragon," Li Sung said, eyes boring into Peter's with an intensity that might have made Peter back up if he'd been standing. "That doesn't go away just because he's dead."

Peter had never seen anyone look at him like that. The words felt like a threat, the tone, the posturing... Well, if Tan had taught him anything, it was that the son of a dragon wasn't to bow to threats. He straightened his back. "That's true, but I'm also the son of a Shaolin priest," he corrected. "I'm not Triad."

"And yet, you encroach in our territory, offering your protection to the people of Chinatown as charity." Li Sung spat the word out at him, then smiled, allowing the tension to drain slightly. "I suppose Tan did not give you enough lessons in the practicalities of life, and the return of Kwai Chang Caine and his pauper's idea of the Shaolin has driven what he did teach from your mind. I hope that Caine hasn't completely ruined you, but I sense that you are beholden to him."

Peter considered the words for a moment, then nodded cautiously. "We are all ruled by our fathers."

"Even after he left you?" Li Sung looked at him appraisingly, as a waiter arrived, placing a bowl of soup in front of Peter, and another in front of the Triad leader. Peter breathed in. The smell of the broth was intoxicating, the noodles in the soup were— oh. "Shark fin soup," he said. Expensive and entirely illegal here. Which meant it had been smuggled, and someone like Li Sung didn't do it in his suitcase, so that meant the docks. Which meant his own contacts were almost certainly compromised, which meant—

He closed his eyes. He was out of his depth.

Li Sung took a spoonful of the broth. "I expect the son of a poor Shaolin priest doesn't eat as well as the son of a wealthy Dragon. You should eat this while you have the opportunity."

The son of a poor Shaolin didn't— Peter's face twitched in anger as he looked at the expensive soup in front of him. "You've gone to some trouble to get me here, and obviously to some expense. Maybe it's time for you to tell me what it is you want."

"Impatience is a poor quality for the son of a priest."

"I wouldn't imagine wasting the time of the new Dragon," he said.

"Then eat, and mind your manners. We will discuss business afterwards."

Peter frowned, and his spoon banged against the rim of the bowl as he took a spoonful of broth along with some of the cartilage from the shark's fin. The room was silent but for the gentle— and not-so-gentle— clink of porcelain on porcelain as Peter and Li Sung shared their meal.

It was not until both had nearly finished their food that the Triad leader decided to say what was on his mind.

"So. You did not take the oaths?" Peter nodded and opened his mouth, but Li held up a hand to keep him silent. "I will not ask it of you. If you entered the gates directly, we would both be put in a difficult place, by virtue of your Shaolin father's position. But I will expect from you what your proper father would have expected."

Proper father? What the hell did that mean? It hardly mattered, Peter shook his head and pushed the wording away. "I can't take that position. I won't. Tan gave me discretion over my actions, and I— I was acting as his son. I can't do that now, Li Sung."

"Please, Peter, do call me Uncle Li. You are family." Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but nodded. "Your father gave you discretion after you proved your loyalty in China." Peter shook his head, but Uncle Li wasn't finished. "You killed on his orders in Hong Kong, did you not?"

Peter felt the icy cold of fear spread over his heart. "I've only ever killed in self-defense," he said stiffly.

"Now, why are you lying?" Peter felt his heartbeat quicken. "We discussed you several times through the years. Tan was like a brother to me, you know. He told me of the first time that you killed on his behalf. He was..." Li Sung paused for a moment, his thoughts clearly focused inwards. "He was very proud of you."

Peter ran a hand over the smooth wood table and bit his lip. Was that some kind of sick joke? Who could be proud of a killer? "What is it that you want?"

"What do you think I want?" Li Sung laughed. "The look in your eyes— Do you think I'm some monster? Do you think I want to hurt you?"

"I don't know what you want right now, Uncle. Do you want me to give up the life I'm making for myself to work with you? I— I've been working hard to build something for myself, even without Tan. Working with the Ancient, with the police..."

"Working with the police while you smuggle people out of Tibet? While you help the Tongs to keep the ones who can't pay them out of their clubs? How daring. And I believe you even spent some time getting rid of competitors in the drug trade!"

"They weren't competitors, they were predators." Peter shook his head angrily, and Li Sung sighed.

"You are a Dragon's son, Peter, of course you will do what you know. Do you think that working with police stops your from working with your family? Do you truly not know how many Triad members work for the police in Hong Kong?" Peter's face wrinkled in confusion, and Li Sung sighed in annoyance. "I suppose that's your father's fault for not inducting you properly. Peter, I understand. You're a young man, and you've got your own aspirations. But you can not forgive the debts people owe to the Triad, and I will not have you standing against us. You are part of us."

"I'm not. Uncle Li, I have a duty to the people of Chinatown. I have a duty to my family."

Li Sung scowled, his face twisting into something terrifying for the briefest of moments. "The son of a Dragon, Peter Tan, is family to the Triad, whether he likes it or not."

"My name is Peter Caine," he snapped as he stood up. "I'm not part of this family—"

His escort pushed him back down into the seat. "The Dragon hasn't permitted you to leave yet, Caine."

Peter shook his head. "There's nothing else to discuss."

Li Sung tapped his fingers on the table. "You are a Dragon's son, a Dragon who died in good standing, and you are family. An errant nephew." He nodded to himself. "You may continue your... charity work, you may attempt to work with the police, so long as you give nothing of us to them. But you will not ignore your obligations to this family."

Peter shook his head angrily. "I'm not going to let you run roughshod over Chinatown! I've got obligations to this community. I've made promises, and I'm not going to break them!"

"Your brothers will not fight you," said Li Sung, ignoring Peter's words completely. "And you will do a simple task for me to show you know your place."

"What simple task?" he questioned, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. No task done for the Triad would ever be simple. Peter's eyes met the Dragon's, though, and he hesitated, seeing a darkness. He'd never seen this expression on Uncle Li's face before, but... Uncle Li sold guns to terrorists and warlords, that's what his father had told him. Jimmy Ma had agreed in that. Terrorizing Chinatown for whatever opaque purposes he had was child's play in comparison.

But Peter wasn't going to go back to that. He couldn't. "I'm not going to hurt anyone for you. I won't do that anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I... I want to make up for what I've done. I want to live properly."

"Properly...?" Uncle Li squinted at him. "You mean to claim you found religion with Kwai Chang Caine's return." Uncle Li looked at him skeptically, but seemed to accept Peter's uncomfortable nod with equanimity. "I suppose that's understandable. And it's not unheard of for a man plagued by death to search for meaning." The man reached across the table and tapped Peter's hand with a finger. It felt like a bee sting, but as Peter looked down in confusion, he saw no wound. "The place you lived... it must be difficult for the son of a Shaolin priest to find peace in the shadow of all that loss. Ghosts must haunt you there."

"I don't believe in ghosts," he said, but something was wrong. The mention of the deaths— Peter swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat, remembering the scene in graphic detail. The death, the blood... his friends' faces, their eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling... the way it had felt, not knowing who had done it, or why... Who was next? He closed his own eyes and grounded himself against the sudden, subtle scent of blood and flame from his childhood.

"I'll find you somewhere better to live. You are my nephew." Peter shook his head. It was... it was terrible, but it was his. Something the community had done for him, something he had worked to do for himself. "You like living there that much? In that case," he continued, pivoting, "I will purchase it. It will be safer for you to live with family that can watch over your. Family fights for itself, hm? The Triad would not have fallen to some... Chi'ru protege."

"I..." His mind felt clouded, and he had no idea what to say to that.

"A simple task, nephew, will afford you safety. You will be free from the fear that must plague you."

"I'm not doing it because I'm afraid, Uncle." He wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but he'd have agreed to almost anything to get out of the restaurant just now. In the dim light, the red of the walls was the same red as fresh blood, and it was now unbearable. He could almost imagine the phantasmic hands of the people he'd killed reaching out from the wall.

He wasn't afraid. He was petrified. His stomache was churning, he couldn't control his breathing, his mouth felt dry as the Sahara...

"Of course." Li Sung smiled at Peter. "There's no need to be afraid, Dragon's son. You are family."

Peter didn't know what to say to that— What was there to be afraid of? Of— of— the scent of the smoke or the blood or— or—

Why? Why was he feeling like this? It made no sense.

He swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on what was now. There were few strong sensations here that were grounding; with the doors closed, and night fallen, there was not even the sound of street traffic outside to help him. The red blood of the walls was impossible to use as a focus, and the chair was too comfortable to feel. The hard edges of the table proved to be the best solution, and he savoured the sensation of the wood digging into his arms as he pressed down hard enough to know that he'd have bruises in the morning.

He would not let the fear rule him. With a head tilt reminiscent of his father's, and a smile that was his alone, "I'll do what you want, Uncle Li, but not because I'm afraid," he replied, and even though it wasn't true, saying it somehow helped. "Because you're going to release the debts of all the people who owed my father money."

Damned if he was going to show weakness.

Li Sung blinked in surprise, then laughed. "Very well, Peter. They'll get into more debt soon enough." He stood up. "Mr Wong will explain what we need from you."