Brick wall with ‘DELICIOUS BURGER’ in all black and large font, low clientele, nothing on the menu beyond breakfast items given it wasn't yet 1200 hours, elevator music of Rihanna—the entire time Cameron sat at the far back of the Yau Man Street franchise, eating the Filet-o-Fish with visible hesitation, he felt extraordinarily naked for having nothing on him. Cap pulled low and leaning back, he was scanning the spot, watching a hoodlum collective of 4 people roughly 20 metres away at 12 o'clock, chattering amongst themselves and busting each other's chops about something Cameron couldn't follow because it was in Korean, and the only thing he knew to say in Korean was ‘tae ssibal.’ He'd completely forgotten that the Taikoo Shing vicinity was not only where Lossless Garage operated, but also the territory of the 'Koreatown Boys—if only they did fucking anything?' he said to himself, referring to the colloquial name of Hwanggeummun-pa. Firmly staying within their own cage by all accounts as it was maybe a 150-strong self-defense group that largely dabbles in petty crimes, with or without Chilsung-pa support—he'd heard they aligned themselves with the 18K against the North Point Triad. The closest 18K faction was the 18K Gau, and that was maybe 18K Radical affiliated, but with whom they truly sided with in terms of 18K parties, he couldn't say with any certainty. What he did know was that if anyone amongst them recognized him, the speed dial to the 18K Ren would've been reached for without a second thought—the Ren character pile who, strangely, hadn't yet gotten anywhere near as gutsy as the Sons of the Khan in making a direct move against Cameron and anyone in his proximity as of late.

'Oh my god, bro... it's motherfucking 8 in the morning and you yell like someone was hitting up your G-spot,' Cam thought to himself, bristling, when one of them—male, obviously underage, not that they knew any better—burst out laughing in a register that sounded precisely like a squeegee dragging across car PPF film. Filet-o-Fish dispatched to his abdomen, he clapped his hands clean, grabbed the helmet and rose to leave, threading past the exact group he was most eager to put distance between himself and—not out of paranoia, given he could've folded any one of them with a well-placed sternum strike for the sheer volume alone, but more on account of his diminished tolerance, courtesy of the trauma-induced headache that refused to vacate the premises by any means available. A vibration moved through his ribcage from somewhere inside his jacket. He fished the phone out and leaned against a pillar near the frontage, finding that someone had texted him 'man these STK’s are really some asscheeks, bro?’ —to which every instinct Ngai possessed replied 'Man, miss me with that  shit, for real...' though he engaged with him regardless. He proceeded to call him, of which Kinky immediately picked up.

SECURITY ISSUE - The Transgressive Crime Novel extract

ACT 1B: UNPROVEN ANTIDOTE FOR DESTRUCTION

01/04/2026

ACT 0 RELEASING MARCH / APRIL 2026