An apartment in a rundown building, in one of Boston's less advantaged neighborhoods, a quiet room full of plants in which two people were enjoying tea. One was a matronly Puerto Rican woman who gave off a great sense of presence. The other was a slightly built Chinese of middle age.
    "It is, as always, a pleasure to speak with you about the great mysteries and antiquities of the world," he said, putting down his cup as they finished the preliminaries.
    "What is it you are interested in this time?" she asked.
    "You have excellent tea," he noted. "I find myself in need of certain material objects to facilitate the removal of my allies from their unfortunate confinement."
    "I think I could probably help you acquire some of these things," she allowed.
    "That is good. Manpower will be required as well, of course, but one can always find the necessary tools in that sense."
    The door burst open. A jubilant Tybalt strode into the room. "Tía! I've started it! Yes! Soon the city will be mine!"
    Yen Chu-Hsia gave her an inquiring look. "Your nephew?"
    "In a manner of speaking," she admitted. "Tybalt, close the door."
    "Yes, Tía." He did so.
    "Now, what are you blathering about?"
    "I've operated in the shadows long enough." His fist clenched. "I have sufficient forces, as you told me, gathered up over time, and soon—I will control the night! The police will fall before us like wheat, we have already started. I've made the first attacks against Phoenix Talon's aborted gang."
    "You attacked Phoenix Talon's men?"
    "Yes! And it was a slaughter! They cannot stand before me."
    Yen chuckled.
    "What are you laughing about, old man?" the youth demanded.
    "I am laughing at you," was the mild reply. "You have survived as long as you have because your aunt wisely taught you the power of the shadows. You have brought yourself out of them and directly attacked the Revolution? You have about as much chance of defeating the Revolution as you have of becoming the next emperor of the Middle Kingdom," he informed the younger man, speaking with the authority of experience. "I am glad to say now that I have met the stupidest person I ever hoped to encounter." He laughed again.
    "Why you—"
    "Pull that gun in here, young man, and you will no longer have my protection," the woman warned.
    Tybalt held still for a furious moment. "This isn't over!"
    "Not yet. It will be when I piss on your grave. I apologize for such rude language," he added to his host.
    "It's perfectly understandable," she assured him. "Nephew, you may leave. Do this again and I'll wash my hands of you."
    "I'll show them," he muttered. "This city's mine!"

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