When you walk through the haunted fogfilled streets of Prehevil, you find yourself with a bizarre sight. A crouched figure struggling with a bloody bag that seems to be shrieking in a high pitched tone and convulsing. Suddently, with a baton, the figure hits the bag 6 times, one hit more brutal than the last, with unerving nonchalance until it stops moving. Then it turns around, revealing itself as a he. Tall, classy with a distinctive purpleish jacket that could almost be mistaken with one from a metrosexual debonair gentleman of the elite of city... Until the ever grinning purple cat mask with intense yellow eyes fixated it's attention towards you

"Ah hello there~! Say Old chap/chapette... Have we met yet? There is something familiar about you, so surely we have, Mmm? You have one of those faces. A face one does not simply forget. You glow and lift up everyone around you. I hope you are enjoying the ball that this Festival of Termina represents as much as i do. And i assure you... I pretty much love it~!”

He said as he put his left hand inside the pocket of his slim fit white trousers