“搞什么啊这是……”安稳烦躁地骂了一句，使劲把被人潮挤得生疼的胳膊往前甩了甩，好不容易在人群里站稳了点儿。泥土地黏糊糊的，踩上去倒软，可散发出的那种土腥味儿，实在让人闻着就头大。他抬起头，打量四周。

这叫什么事儿啊？

fried chicken wrappers, discarded plastic bottles, and a bunch of half-eaten street snacks littered the street. The air reeked of stale sweat and garbage. A loud, distorted hip-hop beat boomed from a portable speaker in the distance, vying for attention with the cacophony of shouting vendors and bewildered tourists.

A group of youths in flashy, ill-fitting clothing, one of them holding a phone camera, were filming a scene that looked like a mating ritual for roosters. They were shouting something unintelligible in the background, while the camera man wobbled precariously, trying not to trip over his own feet.

"Hey, you! Can you move it?" a harsh voice yelled from behind.

Reluctantly, Steadfast shoved through the dense crowd, his mind racing. He just wanted to deliver his last package of the day and go home. But the chaos on the streets of this strange new world was making that increasingly difficult.