Page 120 - World of Darkness

Huang hated the
subway. It stank, it was
noisy and it was full of
people. It was the people
he hated most. The disturb-
ing notion that a complete
stranger would think
nothing of collapsing
into a seat next to
him and rub shoulders
with him as if they were broth-
ers. Huang didn’t have a brother. He
didn’t need a brother.
He tried to read his book as the train
stopped at the next station and a burly
man got on. Huang silently prayed to be
left alone. There were other seats. The
one next to that lady. The one by that old
man. But instead of sitting, the big man
paced leisurely down the isle, stopping
next to Huang.
Huang didn’t look up. He buried his head deeper
into his book, trying to ignore the whole situation.
The doors closed, the train began to move and the man
swept back his coat, brushing Huang’s head.
Huang started to protest, but stopped when he saw the
shotgun rise from under the man’s coat. It was pointed at the
passengers down the aisle. The passengers about to die.
In the timeless moment before the trigger’s pull, Huang saw
the lady raise her hand to cross herself. The old man sat, half
asleep, unknowing. A young guy sitting across from Huang
looked straight at the gunman as one hand shuffled a deck of
cards so casually that it seemed like a habit.
The gun went off once. Twice. And then the killer
stood still, the smoking weapon dropping from his
hands. He stared at the guy across from Huang.
Unfazed, the shuffler stared right back and
revealed a card. They weren’t ordinary playing
cards. The single card bore a gleaming skull.
It was as if this strange person, shuf-
fling his deck, had foreseen it all. Every-
thing that had just happened. The inexpli-
cable thought sent a shiver through Huang.
A weird sense of revelation. Then Huang
realized that the gunman had fallen to his
knees, head buried in his hands, and was
sobbing.
The man across the aisle looked to
Huang, one eyebrow raised quizzically,
almost as if posing a challenge.

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