The day was as usual bright and sunny, quiet and peaceful in a normal suburban neighborhood, with a few cars and bikers cruising the street and passing by the modest homes of the residents. One of the more recent residents of the area was seen grilling some ćevapi sausages, standing in his lawn. He was dressed in blue jeans and a black track jacket with yellow stripes. His posture and manner were overly casual and a little clumsy.

"Da... Good place... nice place..."

He said to himself. He then starting to sing a terrible rendition of "Here comes the Sun" by the Beatles, owing to his thick, foreign accent.