The "Hungry Ghost Incident"

“Drive Saito to the Sea.”

“Only Then Will They Have Peace” The cantillations of the Protestors turned to a fever pitch.

The Gunshot comes from one of the Guards. He fires a shotgun into the air warning the crowd to stand.

Anh and Corey jumped up.
Anh cried out in shock.

The Patrons all stopped what they were doing to turn to the spectacle outside. It was silent enough to hear the music of the restaurant.
“How Long?” Sang the juke box.
“Lord Have Mercy” The Singer on the music system belted sadly.

The News on the TV interrupted itself to bring live footage of the brewing protest. Helicopter blades whirred and rumbled overhead. Officers on megaphones barked commands in Vietnamese.

The protestors took a step back but were undeterred, the Buddhists continued their chants. The Catholics began chanting their own prayers. A cacophony of clashing vietnamese prayers could be heard from the restaurant.

The priests outside were escorted by two guards, each bearing the flag of the Holy Indo-Chinese Empire on their armbands and Italian and Portuguese weapons alongside them.

On one side of the truck were the faithful of Vietnam, holding signs of the images of Christ and Mary. On the other side were Buddhist protesters, holding up signs with slogans in Vietnamese and Old Chinese. They continued their chant. Faster. Louder.

The patrons at the bar could no longer ignore what was happening outside. A moment of decision was made, some passed themselves into the back, some decided to retreat to the restrooms, or find their way to the back exits. Others pressed themselves against the glass of the restaurant ignoring the tv, to see the crowds outside. Anh tried to extricate herself from the crowds.She felt the shove and push of the crowds moving towards the windows. She clasped her purse to her chest.

One by one, insults and jeers, drowned out the strangely harmonious chanting of Buddhist mantras mixed with Vietnamese rosaries. Prayers became Shouts The Shouts turned to roars, the roars to rotter vegetables, the vegetables to rocks and bricks.

Catholic protestors placed themselves around the truck, attempting to block the others. As the priests struggled to load the golden box onto the truck, a protester accidentally pushes himself into the procession. One, a young boy in a black and white cassock, accidentally drops the relic of the True Cross. The corner of the gold box lands on the truck bed with a thud, in audible on the television, yet somehow Anh felt it in.

A simultaneous shout came from the crowd. The Catholics protestors shouted in rage, pushing the Buddhists back with improvised The priest dives to protect the relic. The Congregants shout in rage. The Protestors roared.

"We'll be right back," said the newscaster.

The protestors swarmed the truck like ants, stampeding.

The guards threw themselves in defense of the priests, and were torn apart by pipes and bricks. The clergy on the truck struggled as the crowd tried to throw them off. One carrying a candle as an impromptu quarterstaff was dragged off the truck into the maw of the crowd. The priest grabbed the relic and box and climbed to the roof of the truck.

The crowd started backing away from the truck with the box. The Police turned around. A loud scream echoed out from the truck, crying out as if the scream of a small child.

The scream was visceral, primal, and it entered into everyone's ears with a loud shriek. The TV glitched and fizzled. The lights flickered. Hai Bia Trung street lit up from a dozen headlights from the parked vehicles.

Anh heard the simultaneous revving of engines as parked scooters. The vehicles turned themselves on with a Crowdlike Roar.

Other cars of similar make screamed in unison.

The headlights turned bright green, and then black blood began to fill the headlights of the car as the scream got louder and more intense, Other cars began to join in each with different pitches: a choir of despair and anguish.

Screams came from the crowd. They collapsed upon themselves as the mass of humans contracted.

The APC shook off the guards using it, its headlights filled with dark blue ichor. The Officers panicked as the Vehicle, vacant, and now shiny with fluid, charged into the crowd It swerved around the screaming crowd before crashing itself with a cry and a scream into the nearby building, which collapsed on top of it.

The crowd outside fell into a frenzy as the bar patrons gasped as the TV flickers and screaming could be heard in every radio machine and device across the bar.

The crowd outside fell upon itself and turned violent. Factions collapsed into groups. Several Gunshots cracked. The bar panicked. Tables and guests fell over as herds raced to the bathroom under the smiling newscasters and dancing Haiku A Buddhist threw a brick into the bar window which shattered Anh's scream: silenced by guns and sirens.

An electric hum buzzed through the restaurants, blowing out several lights.

"How Long!” Cried the TV bubbling with white fluid.

“O Lord!” Sang the radio, choking on its own ichor that leaked from every crevice.

"How long?"
The soft song of a glitching Mitsuki Haiku was carried by the air
The rest joined in.

“How long before you judge this worldly people!

How long before you avenge our blood for what they have done to us?”"

Anh jumped up out of her chair.

The sound of an explosion shook the restaurant. Anh looked down to see the procession that was on the other side of the district.

The truck had caught fire. The blazing inferno was cascading along other trucks and cars. An entire line of Saito Corporation trucks spontaneously combusted as the scream intensified. One by one until every last truck and bike on that street was aflame. Hai Bia Trung was lit by a perimeter of colored flames. The silence.

The lights stopped flickering, and the lights were on again. The rioters armed with weapons began moving into buildings. They were storming the bar.The Patrons turned on each other.

Anh tried to move out of the way. She reached into her purse, searching for cold steel. She found it.

It was warm.