Yala, Thailand.

The soft rains drizzled atop the corrugated roofs, drumming out a rhythmic sound that both relaxed and set An on edge. Huddled near a small fire in a chopped 55-gallon drum, the lanky twenty-something stared out from under his black hoodie at the desolate street. Muddy, pot-holed and depressingly maintained, the road had been the only street he prowled for the last few weeks. The older men that shared the fire with him smoked horrible cigarettes, drank cheap sangsom whiskey, although technically it was rum, and complained about how things had been much better in their days. 

When the iPhone rang, and the old, nearly blind man who complained the loudest hastily answered it, An grinned at the irony.  

[color=6ecff6]“This day and age when you carry a phone, it’s not so bad is it uncle?”[/color]

The old man glowered at An, turning away and speaking angrily. It seemed his wife wanted to know where he was and where the rice and duck he was supposed to buy were.  The others chuckled as they swigged their drinks, the talk turning back to the ‘good old days’.  After a while An tuned them out, the purpose of his being in this alley was approaching. 

A black Mercedes prowled up the street, the dark tinted windows hiding the disgusting, obese man stuffed in the back.  Rojai Raptusawa, a drug dealer, pornographer and child rapist was the owner of the car. An had waited for the slug to make his presence known again. It had been nearly three weeks since the human filth was seen. After all raping and murdering little girls was frowned upon, however because of his connections with the South Thailand Insurgency, he was protected. Well that was all about to change.  An had discovered that Rojai favored a prostitute on this street, he always visited her, he always started his debauchery with her.  Standing slowly the young man stared at the men around him, they were a decent lot, old men, hard men but men who had dreamt of other days. Bowing slightly to each of the ‘uncles’ he thanked them and darted off into the gloomy night, his foot falls splashing in the puddles, shadowing the car. 

The short, waddling man oozed into a shadowy doorway, his body guards standing outside the stairwell, their demeanor bored, lazy. That would be their downfall as An approached along the wall, as the closest guard turned to intimidate him, An rushed him, launching a vicious knee into the man’s groin, causing him to spit blood and groan loudly. The second man, busy pulling a handgun failed to see the 4,500 lb. car lift off the ground until it was too late. With a sickening crunch, the car crushed him against the wall. 

An snapped the neck of the guard he held. Then he was off, running up the stairs, he knew where the woman lived. Kicking in the door, he found the apartment empty.  Anger welled up inside him until he heard the raucous sounds of the nightclub on the other side of the wall. There was an alleyway leading to a backdoor.  A grim smile crossed his lips as he cracked his neck. 

###

After making his way into the club, he managed to sneak past several bouncers and found he stood on the edge of the dance floor. Several people stared at him, clearly his attire was not appropriate for the club, but An didn’t care.  Nor did he notice that the club was not the type of club found in Yala, it was distinctly . . . different. 

Smiling at a cute brunette in a tight blue dress, An barely noticed the man behind him. Nor did he notice the waitress carrying a pitcher of beer, whom he promptly bumped into, spilling the beer on his clothes.  Mortified An began apologizing when he spotted the obese Rojai. Forgetting the man, he shoved him away and ran onto the dance floor, stumbling and pushing people out of his way. So focused was he on his prey, that he ignored the protests and just shoved people away in his chase.