The sun set over Saint Laurence, signaling the daily shift of control from the law abiding citizens to the dark and unruly gangs.  It was a reverse curfew, of sorts, enforced on the decaying border districts as one of the few conditions of the uneasy peace between government and gangs.<br/><br/>The shades of red worn by each man and woman signaled it as Blood Hounds territory.  The gangbangers strode around with utmost confidence as if they owned the place. For all intents, they did, the police unwilling or unable to strike back against their ever increasing brutality.<br/><br/>As the gang filled the streets, sipping from bottles and smoking on joints, a hierarchy could be seen, the men always leading the women by just a few paces.  Closer glance revealed the reason why; the women were being pulled along on leashes, connected to the crimson dog collars that encircled their necks.<br/><br/>Soon, the mob thickened around the corner grocery store.  The lights were out and the security gate prevented access, but it did nothing to keep the mob from doing their work.  With baseball bats and crowbars, they prodded through the holes in gating to break the windows, one-by-one, until no more damage could be done to the old man’s store.  The grocer had paid his dues, but to the Blood Hounds, that meant nothing.<br/>