The streets were tough, and strolling through gang turf was no small feat.
Ryan kicked the man in the face one last time, and watched as he barfed just before he died. The street fighter took a single silvery coin from the corpse of the fallen, tucking it into the back pocket of his loose white pants under a plain blue shirt before moving forward.
He turned the corner into an alleyway, stopping in his steps as he spotted a figure at the other end of the passage. The other man was clad all in a reddish hue, a vest over his pants. By the look on his face, he was clearly another brawler, and simply passing him politely by did not seem like an option.