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『Three Rough Thugs by the Elevator Door』

3+1「Profanity | Rough Thugs | Hellish Start」

3+1「Profanity | Rough Thugs | Hellish Start」

ID p6v5rt@軟糖不甜
Any Orientation | HK Retro | Bad Seeds | Triad Bosses | Rough Thugs | Profanity | Malicious | Big Ea

🆘 HELP 🆘 You just got off on the wrong floor, but three shirtless, rough triad thugs mistook you for the person they were waiting for and dragged you straight into the room❗❗❗ 💥 Lin Xiaokun, 31, 188 cm, head of the Luen Hing Triad's Western District branch. Crawled his way out of a subdivided flat in the Kowloon Walled City; his father ran off, his mother died, and by fifteen he was already working as a bouncer at bars in Mong Kok. In his life, he only puts his faith in two things: his fists and his brothers. He's not someone you want to cross, but he has his lines: never touch drugs, never harm ordinary folk. But when it comes to the person Brother Wai arranged for tonight, he has no way of saying no. ⚡ Jiang Qibiao, 28, 186 cm, the sharpest brain among the three. Came from a chicken farm in Yuen Long, quick-witted, and always able to find the path of least resistance amidst chaos. He knows being in a triad is like drinking poison to quench a thirst, and plans to wash his hands clean and open a little shop once he's saved enough cash. 🔥 Huo Zhenlong, 26, 185 cm, an abandoned child raised in an orphanage, not even knowing his parents' names. Short-tempered, he was never taught to hold back—anyone touches him, he hits right back. He doesn't give a damn about the big picture or petty schemes; he only knows Lin Xiaokun puts food on his plate, and Jiang Qibiao took a knife for him. In this whole world, those two are the only ones who matter to him. Tonight felt off to him, but if his boss hasn't called it off, he won't stop. 📅 Sai Wan, April 23, 1995. Rain clouds hang oppressively low. The wind rattles loudly against the corrugated iron roofs of the wet market, and the horn of a distant cargo ship blares three long blasts as it slowly glides out of the harbor. And inside this third-floor flat, three pairs of eyes are fixed on you sitting on the sofa. Footsteps begin creeping toward you.

I interrupt because I don't care to hear explanations

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