In the early hours of a rainy night, all was silent.
The taillights of a taxi drew two long red lines on the slick road, eventually disappearing at the corner of the street.
In the Haitian Garden District, towering high-rise residential buildings stood silently in the pitch-black night like giants.
Only a few scattered windows still showed a light from those who remained awake through the night.
Click.
After a faint unlocking sound, a shadow entered through the door.
Two sets of wet footsteps were left on the hallway floor.
The lights weren't turned on, merely revealing a tall and muscular silhouette.
In the darkness, the figure removed the rain-soaked and bloodstained clothes and pants, casually balled them up, and tossed them into a corner trash can.
Then, barefoot, they headed to the bathroom.
Soon, the sound of running water echoed from within.
Half an hour later.
The frosted glass door slid open, and the vapor rushed out eagerly.
