by Errant

Created on: May 08, 2008

There was a time in my life which I'm not proud of. It's a time when I was a member of a Triad.

Once upon a time, there was a cruel and unjust ruler of China. Taxes on the people were high and the quality of life was low. The written language was intentionally made complex to keep the poor from learning and prospering, while the rich remained in their comfort. There was no justice. Only the corrupt ruled and enforced the law.

Then the Red Pavilion came into being. Under tents mad of red canvas was a deal struck amongst all those that would free China of this rule. These people would attempt to over throw the oppressive rule and make the world a better place.
For a rebellion to work, people needed weapons and food. For this it took money. So deals were made. Connections set up and this became a network. At any given time there would not be a list of names of everyone connected.

Each group would have a leader. Each leader themselves would report to someone higher and be a member of a separate group. Money would be collected and transferred thusly. Questionable means of collecting money were introduced and this secret empire grew.
Then the government was overthrown. There was no need for the people of the Red Pavilion. The heroes disbanded the group and went along their merry way.
The money was too good to pass up. The scum of the Red Pavilion continued their work and a society of crime was created. Like in the time of rebellion, you'd have your tea ceremony and walk over the cleansing fire.

The world I was in felt like I was burning alive.

In Toronto I was a foolish kid. I was too smart for my own good and just as much as a blood thirsty opportunist. Smart didn't equate to sanity though. I was vicious and everyone knew it. For Uncle Joe, I was his attack dog.

I didn't deal drugs. I delivered them. I didn't force girls into prostitution, I protected them. When money was to be made, I was the one who made sure it lined my boss's pockets.
I won't even go into the darker moments.

I started off a small fry. It involved simple money collection. My job was to make sure people paid their debts on time. It's funny how western food and genetics makes a monster out of Asian males. At five feet ten inches, the average Chinese person came up to my shoulder. To them I was a suitable enforcer within the Triad ranks. Collections would be easy for someone my size.

One time a guy was short thirty thousand dollars. The guy was a common cook working in some wok fry restaurant. When I caught

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