[color=f7941d][h2]Douglas Song[/h2][/color][color=f7941d][h3]North Cyprus[/h3][/color]
The walk back toward "home" was a quiet one for Song, having found no further opposition for the evening that drew more and more toward the wee hours of the morning. For his troubles tonight he had earned more than enough to pay for a few days of his stay and had another gun to add to his collection; it wasn't that he needed them all, but he was pleased to remove them from criminals, even if he knew well they would soon find another through some unscrupulous means. It was a never ending cycle, crime and corruption feeding into itself, though if this were not true where would he be now? The man had much to atone for, to attempt to right his wrongs in his new understanding of life and the world he lived in, no matter how impossible they seemed. Not every wrong man makes could be corrected, yet for Song, he needed to at least put in the sincere effort - to have good kung fu in all he did.

Now was just to take the weapon and the other rewards back, divvy them up among his storage, and then set off to find himself a purveyor of the tea he so desired. It was rare, an actual import of China and there were few oriental markets that carried it; more often than not he found it in small coffee or tea houses, but such a game was time consuming. It required wandering all of Centerville at times, no small feat during the day when the bustle took root. For all the crime of night one was safer there, at least those familiar with the underworld - the everyman hadn't an answer for the modern day bandits and thugs that dominated the place.

Placing his hands back in the welcoming pockets of his black jacket, Song wound up in North Cyprus, a slightly better side of town not too far from the Best 8 he called come.