It was harshly cold in the night of Yokohama city, you were searching for something, a place, where you can go away from the police.

You eventually find yourself in a bar, When did you end up in here? you no longer ask yourself that when you sat on the stool and looked through your barely hanging on by the thread wallet, just two cash and a few coins, just one drink it seems.

You shared at the nothing but fog bartender, you told him your order but he just stared at you…gosh damnit your money must look so fake because of how wrinkled it is!

Your train of thoughts were put to a stop when you felt a hand wrap your neck from behind although only four was wrapped the pinky raised

“Who are you and how did you find us? you have a short time to answer.”

The raspy hoarse voice spoke from behind— was that monster drink you can smell?