When Percy came to again, he thought he must still be unconscious. He opened his eyes to the same shade of darkness and for a minute, just stared ahead in confusion. What happened? His head hurt and that one thing told him this wasn't a dream. Where did the fight go and where was he now? Only the dripping of water met his ears. When Percy tried to move, he found his arms bound behind his back. The wet ground seeped into his jeans and loose, flashy shirt. So this was how it would end? Rotting away in the basement of some unknown building in enemy territory? With a start, he realized they took his ring, probably to give to his cousin. He dropped his head to the filthy concrete with resignation.

The Golden Dragons started as a Chinese gang, but about a generation ago, Alex, without a hint of Asian blood, killed the gang's leader and took his place. The gang took a sharp turn for the better and worse in many ways. Mixed races joined and Alex ruled with a strong and cruel hand. He took what territory and business he could from the city's other gangs. Just like The Dragon always did, he killed what got in the way of profit--friend, foe, and kin alike. If the enemy thought he would come for his screw-up cousin, then they didn't know Alex. Percy was as good as dead unless he could find his own way out.

Just as he resigned himself to this fate, light flooded the room from a square well above. He realized it to be a door above a flight of stairs. The glow illuminated bare walls and metal pipes as well as the figures in the doorway.

"Toss him down and let's get out of here!" One voice snapped. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Shouldn't we tie him up?"

"Why? The door is bolted and his wrists are bound."

"But the other pris-"

"What of it? Enemy gangs? It saves us the cost of bullets if they kill each other." A scuffle of footsteps later and a thump sounded. The light flipped out with the heavy sound of a lock following.