Shanier was wrapped in an apricot-yellow brand-name thin old windbreaker and walked in the dark streets where the cool breeze was gradually rising. He was starving to death and wanted to drink some cold beer or something to refresh himself, but there were only a few coins left in his pocket.
He just came out of Rex Island Prison last month. The eleven-year sentence, according to the regulations, can be released after serving two-thirds, so he actually only squatted for seven years and four months. He didn’t feel that it was worthwhile at all. More than seven years, enough time Many things can be wiped out, such as accumulated wealth, status in the gang, and those beautiful girls who have loved him to the death.
Recalling those blood-spattered fights-it was a turbulent period known as the "Red-Blue War", when the two major gangs in New York, the lame gang and the blood gang, fell into a frantic scuffle for looting territory. The gang leaders not only opened fire to the outside world, but the various forces in the faction alliance also clashed endlessly. Other small gangs fished in troubled waters, fighting for the food scraps from the mouths of the two white sharks fighting fiercely.
In this environment, the blood in every gang member is ignited like oil, and Shanier is no exception. The blood gang he led fought against a branch of the lame gang. The fuse of the incident was that a member of the other party whistled at one of his girlfriends and shouted "Hi, bitch", and he was immediately stabbed by him. After eleven knives, personal grievances quickly escalated into gang fights.
In fact, this kind of thing is very common. Gang members basically treat blackmail, drug trafficking, and fights as three meals a day. However, it happened that the FBI and SWAT special police team joined forces to suppress the gang forces. There was an urgent need for a few negative examples to kill the chickens and monkeys. Shanier was unfortunately selected and became one of the targets. Double informants with money on both sides betrayed his whereabouts to the police, and he was caught by the FBI.
In order to get rid of the crime, he spent a staggering amount of money to hire a gold medal lawyer. The lawsuit lasted for three full years, but at the end he was told that the accuser is the federal government, and he has no way out except to plead guilty—the federal government is always right. Even if you were accidentally arrested because you were passing soy sauce, as long as you go to court, you must plead guilty. This is a matter of principle for the government's face. Of course, as for the guilty plea and the sentence for a few years, you can bargain with the prosecutor and the judge, trade with other gangsters in exchange for the sentence, or put gold on the scale of the statue of the goddess of justice, so that the balance of the trial will be crooked. To your side—that's another matter.
In short, for this lawsuit, Shanier spent most of his savings and finally persuaded the Statue of Justice at the gate of the court to shorten the forty-year sentence to eleven years. During the lawsuit, he stayed in the detention center for three years. After the final trial, he continued to squat the rest of his sentence in the Rex Island Prison, and was finally released with a breeze.
Shanier, who had just been released from prison, still had the idea of a comeback, but it turns out that disasters, like windfalls, always come one after another—his most beloved second-rate singer girlfriend rolled the remaining millions of dollars and ran with black bodyguards. On the way to Mexico, the entrance to the two-stays and double-stays in Mexico; the entrance he led was annexed by the blood gang and other forces. When he was just out of prison trying to contact his old subordinates, he was almost tied up by the new boss and thrown into Sheepshead Bay; he asked his friends in the past for help, But many people's communication methods have failed, and some people who can be found are not much better than him. At most, they can only help a few small-denomination banknotes, and the ones who stand out are not even willing to see him.
After seven years, the whole world has become a reality. But the prison life was so monotonous that the concept of time was blurred, and he felt that all the people were betrayed overnight.
He was angry, jealous, and resentful, and then struggled, frustrated, and exhausted. The sharp lack of material conditions and the rapid decline in living standards finally brought his focus back to the most primitive and practical items-food, clothing, clothing, etc. Have a place to live. All this requires money, and what he currently has nothing, is money.
Money, money! When you don’t need it, pile it up in a safe like stacks of straw paper, and when you really need it, it’s really fucking hard to earn! Just find a job first? Gas stations, fast food restaurants... No, he can't afford to lose his face, he is used to a life of being served by others, and then goes back to serve others, he would rather kill himself!
He walked to a vending machine on the corner of the street, hesitated for a moment, and finally threw the few coins in his pocket in exchange for a small pot of coffee. He cherishly sipped the canned coffee he had sneered at, thinking blankly about the future.
His figure was vaguely reflected on the glass cabinet of the vending machine. He was tall and dignified, with short golden brown hair and long, narrow, dark green eyes. He used to be a very attractive handsome guy when he was dressed well. Now he is downcast and uncut, his charm is compromised, but he still looks above the standard, but his face is full of bitterness and hatred, which makes the towering nose and tightly pressed thin lips. It reveals a fateful look.
If you don't want to starve to death on the streets, you must accept reality, Shanier. He silently swears to himself shown on the glass that even if he steals it, he has to find a way to get the first money, and then start all over again and climb to where you belong!
It was as if God heard his inner cry and opened a window in front of him with a kind heart-he suddenly found an advertisement list posted on the wall behind the vending machine, which was clearly written in black on a white background. An environmental protection agency recruited a group of volunteers to participate in "a certain risk" wildlife protection activities in different places. The three-month period included food, housing, and travel expenses. The treatment was incredibly good.
Shanier is not a young man who is eager to find a job after leaving school. He is very aware of the filthy society and sinister hearts. He carefully read the advertisement with a questioning mentality, pondered the possible pitfalls in the words and sentences, and quickly found it. Unusual place: The advertisement does not require any academic qualifications or physical fitness for the recruiters, but only emphasizes the need to have a "spirit of dedication to environmental protection." What is the "dedication" method? Shouldn't you go to be a savage in the isolated virgin forest, Shanier sneered to himself, feeling that his current living condition was not as good as a savage-at least they had no worries about eating and drinking.
His gaze stayed on the salary for a long time, he counted the four zeros at the end of the number 3, and finally made up his mind-no matter how hard it is, it will only be three months anyway. As for "there is a certain risk", hell, this world Is there any place more dangerous than a prison bathhouse? He fought a dozen times before and after, and ruthlessly smashed seven or eight heads on the tiles and iron pipes, and basically put an end to the coveting of his ass-although it is limited to behavioral shocks, trivial sightings are always absent. Everywhere, but he has already practiced so much that he can't invade, and he doesn't bother to pay attention to those eyes that can't cause substantial harm.
Tear off the advertisement sheet, he threw away the empty coffee can and proceeded to the recruitment address according to the diagram.
An hour later, he found a four-story building that was not old, and walked up the stained narrow staircase to the second floor, into a spacious reception room. A staff member immediately asked and sent a few forms for him to fill in carefully.
In the two columns of "relatives" and "contact address", Shanier thought for a while, filled in "none" truthfully, and then handed in the form. He was led to another large room to continue waiting, and was told that the review result would come out soon, and they would decide on the spot whether to hire him.
There are about four or fifty people in this room, all waiting boredly for the result. Shanier glanced around: the black man in a fat rugby shirt and dirty sneakers, a middle-aged blue-collar with a haggard face in a suit and leather shoes, a thin old man with gray hair trying to cover it with a string cap, and some clearly showed that he was from a slum, and was walking on the street. The young man who passed away... He suddenly felt a little strange, why did this environmental protection agency put up the list of recruitment advertisements in the inconspicuous corners of the backward neighborhoods? Don't they want to hire more high-end people
Maybe there are some tricks, such as the salary is moist, and the actual getting is much less than the promise; or some safety or health measures do not meet the government standards and therefore dare not make a big fuss, Shanier thought to himself. But he did not intend to leave here, in fact, he has nowhere to go.
After waiting for a long time, the crowd inevitably began to become irritable. At this time, staff brought meals: bread, pizza, sandwiches and coffee, juice. The variety and quantity were abundant, enough for people to rush to rush.
Shanier unceremoniously took away the portion he couldn't finish, and after a hard meal, he wanted to smoke a cigarette lazily. He made this request to the staff hopelessly, but the other party honored it very politely. Everyone in the room who wanted to smoke received a small box of tobacco. Even though it was a miscellaneous brand, everyone was uplifted.
After eating and drinking, he thought to look at these people carefully, boringly guessing that one of them might become his temporary colleague. After a while, his eyes stopped on a figure in the corner of the room.
-It was a fancy-dressed Asian young man, about 23 or 4 years old, looking like a Chinese or Japanese, leaning on the sofa with his legs crossed, playing a deck of cards without anyone else. Under the bright fluorescent lamp, his chiseled side face is facing Shanier. His thick eyelashes and sharp chin are like the painter's fine brushwork, depicting delicate and beautiful lines with compassion and love.
Shanier's eyes lit up and he looked at him with interest, hoping to capture the moment when the opponent turned his face.
Soon after he got his wish, the young man seemed to feel the staring gaze, and turned his face and glanced at an investigating gaze.
After Shanier saw him clearly, he nodded in the ceremony, and then turned his face away. The face of the other party is beautiful, but it is not as beautiful as it is amazing. Cheap and bad clothes and dyed golden hair are less beautiful. Shanier has always believed that for the yellow race, the most beautiful The suitable hair color is still black hair. Too light hair color with insufficient white skin is simply a loss of taste.
This Asian young man looked like a bird with a fancy color of feathers, which gave Shanier an urge to grab him and paint him over again—if this had been eight years ago, he would have done it. But now he hasn't adjusted the leisure and spare money of those beautiful boys and girls. In fact, he himself is being painted and adjusted by the scorching society.
At this time, the staff walked into the room again and handed out the badge with the number to some waiting people. A total of 24 badges were issued, and the others who had not been sent out were kindly invited out.
Looking at the room where the number of people had dropped sharply, Shanier knew that the remaining 24 people, including himself, should have passed the preliminary examination. The strange thing is that those who are relatively decent by comparison are mostly eliminated, and the rest are hobo-like disgraced goods.
In the next personal interview, the people who stayed were called in turn to the small room next door to talk alone. They were always there and never returned. People inevitably got a little nervous and started talking in a low voice. Shanier consciously had nothing to say with these guys, and would rather stand in front of the coffee machine and refill the cup.
On the sofa chair nearby, Asian youths are still playing cards with naked girls in their hands. While regretting his lacklustre sitting posture, Shanier sincerely admits that in this group of grades, he is very aesthetically intoxicated. Among people, he is considered a rare seductive existence.
He considered it for a while and decided to know each other in the past-if a relationship can be further developed, it can barely be called the last affair.
"Hey, do you need coffee?" He walked to the sofa chair, handed over a full clean cup, and said hello in a relaxed and friendly tone.
The young man looked up at him and took the cup unceremoniously. He didn't thank him, but smiled at the corner of his mouth.
In this laugh, Shanier felt as if his whole body was electrified, starting to tingle from the tips of his fingers that touched each other.
Those cheap clothes, poor taste, messy collocations, including his most annoying dyed hair (even a little black was born at the roots, oh, nauseating two pieces)... all the inconsistencies are It was watered down, even though it was just a fake, perfunctory smile!
Suddenly he was very interested in getting to know the other party in depth, in terms of identity and body.
"My name is Shanier," he extended his hand to each other enthusiastically. "Perhaps in the next three months, we will become colleagues and partners. How about getting to know each other?"
The young man shook his hand indifferently, "Luo Yi."
Shanier took the opportunity to sit down next to him, and put his arm on the back of the chair behind him like countless times before hitting up with handsome boys and girls, "Their job advertisement attracted you, right, about environmental protection, to be honest. Yes, I also think that human beings demand too much of the earth, wantonly cutting down forests, hunting wild animals..."
"—No, I have no interest in environmental protection at all." Luo Yi interrupted his improvisation.
Shanier hid the embarrassment well, and then smiled and asked, "Then what are you interested in? Maybe we have common hobbies..."
"Money." The Asian youth replied very bluntly, "I am only interested in money." He glanced harshly at the appearance of the striker, and said in a nonchalant tone: "I know what you want to do," Do you want to sleep with me? No problem, two hundred at a time, five hundred for the night, plus props. I have not been in this business for a while, but since you are a handsome guy, I will consider whether or not to pick you up. List."
He turned out to be a male prostitute... Shanier was so shocked that he was speechless. He is not a sex worker who has no shame in public bargaining. He just didn't expect to run into one at this stall. The previous thoughts about training and affair were smashed. The other party is a public bus type existence. It is totally inconvenient for him to bother cleaning the engine and repainting. This made him annoyed by the bright moon shining the ditch—this annoyance may be even more. It comes from another reason: He can't afford to buy a prostitute now, let alone a night, not enough once.
He turned his face almost immediately, got up and threw a sentence: "Sorry, I haven't gotten into the point where I need to buy spring to solve my needs!"
The other party didn't seem to mind being discriminated against by professionalism. After squeaking the cup of coffee, he handed it back to him: "Excuse me, pour me another cup."