Silver Wing Building, rooftop terrace.
The piercing night wind howled past, making the yellow warning tape at the edge of the rooftop flutter loudly.
The massive metal logo stood like a wall across the south side of the terrace.
The cold white LED lights, of high brightness, were tightly embedded in the stainless steel letter casing.
Without any diffusing covers, the light cast a ghastly white glow across the entire concrete ground.
Under this blinding curtain of light, a dozen or so members of the Flying Crane Gang, wearing floral shirts, huddled with automatic rifles in their arms.
They were spread out at the rooftop entrance and around the perimeter fence, vigilantly eyeing the activity below.
By the lightning rod base in the center of the terrace, there were four large rusty iron cages lined up side by side, seemingly holding some kind of prey.
