The financial strangulation of a triad boss doesn't happen with a dramatic explosion. It happens with a quiet, blinking error message on a computer screen.
I sat in the Golden Koi's counting room. The air was cold and still. It smelled like steel, old paper, and the faint chemical bite of printer ink. The walls were bare concrete, painted a dull gray that reflected the overhead light without warmth. A single fluorescent tube buzzed above us, a low constant _bzzzz_ that vibrated in my teeth. The light was flat and white. It made everything look washed out.
There were no windows. The door behind me was heavy steel. It had closed with a solid _thunk_ and a soft exhale of air. The only other sound was the low hum of the server rack in the corner, and the faint whir of its cooling fan.
