In Grand Town city . . .

[Suichi]

Ban moved through the street, his spiky head bobbing up and down through the crowd, towering can be said, but won't be. He was strinding nonchalantly through the throng of people going about their business and going the other way. He had a cylindrical bag over his shoulder, and if one were to look at him walking ahead from behind, which one is doing at this point, they would notice it on his left shoulder, seemingly a gas emnating from around it. At this point, if there was a vantage point from his front it would be obvious that the smoke was being produced by the yellow-butted white, thin ciggarette he was smoking; therefore the smoke, obviously.

The smoke would billow and stray and form ringlets from time to time, indicating Ban was very much at home in those streets, this assumption of course, because he wasn;t the only one producing smoke, there was a grey mist about the whole square and beyond. All nevermind to Ban, he wasn't on an evening stroll after all, he had somewhere to be. 27 GT Summit. That's where he had to be. That's where he was headed. He paused at the corner of the road, crossed it and headed left. A slope would meet him now, up which he strode. A couple of blocks up and he dropped his smoke crushed it. He was looking around, a mischievous smirk playing across his features, he walked on a bit. He'd a reached a building which was taller than the others, smoke puffing out from a shaft on the roof.

"Okay, where are you, maddie?" he whispered to himself. Maddie was the building's landlord, and was recently declared a moronic dumpling of a man, who just happened to be going mad. It was at first just his rising nippy-ness at the obvious underflow of money coming his way for the room Ban had occupied. Ban couldn't pay him with no money coming his own way, and with no jobs-no less. But then, Ban was getting sucked into holes bigger than him, so the manager kept having random attacks of acute stupidity or in other words, hallucinations, and to put it quite plainly, Ban happened to him. An Evil-Eye a day kept maddie away - from him that is, and as a result, he hadn't technically seen Ban in over two weeks. Ban pretty much encouraged the people in the building to think he was mad, he would tell you that he didn't tell anyone to call him that. But the fact would be betwen the lines; he didn't not tell them either. *Sigh* oh well, what're you going to do? And incedentally, this why and how maddie got his name. Mr Toriye was a formality on the ownership forms he owned, to everybody but himself, he was maddie.

A few seconds went by and purple-specs caught a glimpse of him, and he saw him and that was all, maddie once more thought his foot had turned into seventy different frogs and he rushed inside to do something about it.

Ban grinned a baby grin, his cheeks turned puffy like the baby he was at heart.

"Oh I'm such a genius!" thought the cheeky wittle thing, wiping a big fat teardrop from his big eyes. Little Ban, then continued onto the stairs and started climbing upstairs, his wittle-tiny feet hardly carrying him up as went a-snickering to his room.

He was garnering the second big-ass debt of his life, Ban would tell him self that old habits die-hard. Well, they would if you don't get a damn job in weeks! And of course that - "Hello! What's this?" An envelope of yellow hue taped to his door. A mission? About time, thought Ban as he lazily walked inside letter in hand, smoke in mouth.

SLAM! And shut the door behind him . .

[Suichi]

Ban uncermoniously dumped his bag on the table making a couple of papers slide off and fall to the floor, he didn't notice. He made his way over to a mini-fridge on the far side by the window and took out a bottle of water. It was hot around these parts. He took a sip and then a gulp, he then took a long sip and set down his bottle. The letter was still in his hand. At last he plopped down on a seat and relaxed and looked at his letter. He snatched up a knife by the table and cut the flap

The letter read:

"Dear Mr Midou,

My name is Sebastien. And I am in dire need of
your assistance. I have a great fear of being
caught in my act and that is why I am only
revealing the least about my identity and of my
purpose. I apologise, but it is essential, of that, I
assure you.

I was previously working with a man named Haren
Nighlow. He and I had stumbled upon a piece if
historical evidence that actually proves the existence
of an idea of superstitous nature. But we ware outlawed
to expose it and in an attempt to irradicate us, we were
burgled of our evidence and are now being called a hoax,
a most hurtful lie.

We must speak. Face to face.
Meet me at Degor Square at the Dimond Cafe.

Sincerely,
Sebastien."

Ban read it again. Ban lit a cigarette and read it once more. Blew out smoke. Sighed and packed up to leave again.