The cold wind on the Sixth Ring highway bit through heavy wool coats like clusters of sharp iron needles.
Dense, oily smoke from the chemical factory fire hung low over the suburban overpass, turning the winter clouds into a muddy yellow haze that blocked every star in the sky. Two massive municipal fire engines sat idling by the snowy road shoulder, their emergency light bars painting the white drifts in rhythmic flashes of crimson and cobalt blue.
Near the cracked concrete guardrail, twelve firefighters sat in a circle on overturned plastic foam crates.
Their heavy yellow helmets were scorched pitch black. Thick gray soot and toxic chemical grime covered their faces, leaving only the whites of their bloodshot eyes visible in the cold night. Several young men were coughing hard, their shoulders heaving as they tried to clear the acrid plastic stench from their raw, irritated throats.
At the center of the squad stood Captain Zhou. His canvas turn-out coat was ripped open at the shoulder, soaked through with freezing water, industrial fire-retardant foam, and oily chemical residue.
A golden prompt hovered quietly above his head:
[Captain Zhou: Goodness 94/100]
[Municipal Fire Brigade 3: 12 members, Average Goodness 92/100]
