- 「寧可一思進，莫在一思停」，爭勝纖毫，窮2026-03-09
- 自用輕量化視訊工具 Muxer：批量封裝 / AI2026-03-08
- Bang & Olufsen 推出全新 Beosound Premier2026-03-04
- 經典重生！Dolby Atmos 測試片 AI 4K60P 修2026-02-25
- 椒鹽鮭魚豆腐2026-03-07
Scarface Pedro didn’t get his nickname from a knife fight or a bullet. He got it from a rusty box cutter while opening a shipment of counterfeit handbags. The gash ran from his temple to his jaw, healing into a pale, wormy trench that made children stare and adults look away. His pawn shop, El Depositario , sat on the corner of Flats and Fletcher, a grimy jewel box of other people’s broken lives.
A nervous man in a cheap suit placed a small, antique radio on the counter. “Needs repair. Family heirloom.”
On Thursday night, the pawn shop’s back door was jimmied open. Three men in black ski masks swept through, flashlights slicing the dark. Pedro watched from the mezzanine, a sawed-off resting on the railing. They tore apart the fire extinguisher. Found nothing. They tore apart the cash register. Nothing.
