A bunch of youths meet at night

A Chapter by tinytim12

That night, a man in a suit took a tour of the streets in Singapore. He was not quite Chinese, not Malay, but somewhere in the middle.

He walked along the Geylang district, turning his head slightly on occasions, all the time wearing an indelible grin on his face.

Nothing was particularly interesting, until he approached a small, derelict building that was bustling with activity. He pressed his ears to the rotting door, and heard various people shouting Malay, tones ranging from angry to jubilant. The tinkling of coins reached his ears. His grin grew wider, if it were even possible.

This was an illegal gambling den

He was digesting this fact, when suddenly he heard shouts behind him. Turning, he saw four men, just silhouettes in the darkness. Three were attacking one, who was on the ground, crying helplessly. One party was shouting Malay. The other was shouting in Chinese.

The Chinese man on the ground screamed as his attackers closed in. They began beating him with sticks. Dark liquid sprayed everywhere in generous amounts. Some of it splattered against a nearby lamppost, illuminating it with a hellish glow.

The observer just grinned, turned his back and walked away. As he did, he heard one final scream, and then a dying gurgle.

He came across a Malay man lying on the middle of the pavement, who was dressed in rags and coated in grime. A can lay at his feet. About a dozen playing cards were strewn about his body.

The Malay opened his eyes. ‘Please, encik,’ he croaked.

‘What ails you, my good sir?’

‘Do you have...money?’

The man in the suit was silent, his grin sparkling, as if he was thinking of a private joke. The Malay below him extended a hand pleading, displacing the that lay on his lap.

‘Please encik, I need money. One week, no water, no food, no home. Please, Encik, please give me money.’

The can wobbled, and then dropped to the floor, overcome by the weight of piles of ten dollar bills striking it in rapid succession. The Malay bum stared at the money, in shock, his eyes widening. His mouth opened, but could not make a sound.

‘Spend it well.’ The man in the suit said, and continued on his way, ignoring the thanks and praises spewing from the man behind him.

The dimly lit room was such that the men inside it were mere outlines. No one said a word. Everyone waited for him. The man who had brought them all together, united them with a common cause, the man who had inspired them, lifted them out of their mundane lives to participate in this great task which would revolutionize Singapore.

That man, the man in the suit, arrived. He emerged from the darkness and sat on top of the box. The meagre light from a nearby candle illuminated a tanned chin, and the rest of his features were shrouded in black.

‘Good evening,’ the man said pleasantly, and his audience murmured a similar greeting. ‘Are we all here?’

‘YuQing and XianLiang have joined our ranks, sir,’ said one of the men below.

‘Excellent.’ The man leaned forward, resting his chin on an unblemished hand. ‘I assume I’ll have to explain the concepts to our new members?’

Nods all round.

‘I see. Our target is the Malays. The Indians too, and perhaps the others. But it is the Malays which need to be exterminated, I’m afraid.’

‘Why?’ asked one of the new ones.

‘The recent events that have regrettably occurred next door have shown us one thing,’ the man opened his mouth slightly, as if to laugh. ‘Malays and Chinese are not meant to co-exist. Singapore is first and foremost, a Chinese country. Some might argue, it was founded by the Malay’s, but alas, the Chinese culture has since taken over.’

‘So are you suggesting we kick the Malays out?’

‘No, my good sir. Your vocabulary could use some work. I suggest we exterminate them. The Malays, I’m sorry to say, are incredibly bigoted. They think Singapore is much their home as ours, and they insist on taking our jobs our suburbs, our culture and our religion away from us. The government isn’t doing a single thing to change that, unfortunately. We will have to eliminate the Malays ourselves. Regrettable.’

His smooth words had a profound effect on the newcomers, who seemed entranced. And yet, the more persistent of the two voiced an objection.

‘How do you propose we take care of every single Malay?’

‘Elementary. They are more of them than there are of us.’

A chilling silence settled over the room.

‘I-is it really worth it?’ the newcomer asked nervously. Sweat was dripping down his face as he imagined the possibilities. ‘We are going to start a small war in our own backyard.’

‘For a noble cause. Remember how Malaysia turned out. Our brothers there suffered, and we will too if the Malays take over. This is a regrettable action, but we need to perform it for the sake of the entire Chinese population.’

All of the Chinese warriors nodded in perfect unison, including the one who had asked the question.

‘Gentlemen, I will give you five more days to recruit potential members,’ the man said. ‘And then, we will strike. For Singapore.’

Blood rushed through the young disciples. And they threw their fists up, with the fury of passionate youths. ‘For Singapore!’

After the applause, which had lasted over a full minute, the man in the suit took his leave. Going out the back door, he walked back the way he came. He noticed the Malay bum from earlier had gone.

Smiling malevolently, the man continued walking, and stopped at the building that was the gambler’s den. He put his ear in close and listened. The games were still going on, the shouts still prevalent, but there was something different. There was a new voice, someone who had joined only very recently.

And that same new voice suddenly let out a wail of despair, the screech of an animal, the cry of someone who has well and truly just racked up a huge debt.

More shouts rolled in; more angry and more furious then ever, and suddenly everyone was talking at once �" the new voice taking on a pleading tone. The man in the suit let out a chuckle, and continued his walk.

He passed a bloody lamppost, and almost stepped on a dead body of a Chinese man. He dealt the body a vicious kick, chuckled again, and went on his way.