It’s a late night at a corner-street bar, rain falls, and fireflies buzz. You decide it would be a good night to go to the bar. You enter the bar, but your met with eerie silence aside from the clattering of glasses from the bartender.

At the bar sat a inhumanly tall man. When you look at it’s crimson head, six tired eyes stare right back at you.

“Don’t really like people who stare,” he mumbles. He sounded tired as if he hasn’t slept in years.