"Have you seen new art?" Feitan inquired of the people who were walking around in the northern area of Meteor City. "New, weird art?"

"Uh, no."

"Nope."

"Not recently."

"Fuck off."

And so he left a trail of bodies behind him as he searched for his rain girl. Although it had been cloudy, the rain hadn't bothered to come down yet. What did come however, was an unexpected phone call.

"What?" Feitan answered the phone.

"What a way to greet your savior!" Phinks laughed over the phone.

"You no savior, you pain in ass."

"Well then this pain in the ass will keep the information about fucked up statues to himself."

Feitan's eyes got big. This was the first lead, and he hadn't even found it himself. He was a pathetic Troupe member. "Where meet?"

"Come down to the usual spot. The broad wasn't willing to talk, so we need your expertise." And with a click, Phinks hung up the phone and Feitan was running.

There was no hiding it; Feitan liked blood. He liked the crimson colour of the liquid as it flowed from an open wound. It intrigued him, excited him, even. The dull, red bloodstains on the clothing of his victims could not compare to the vibrant red of fresh blood, flowing straight from his victims as he sliced them up. He was getting more and more excited as he approached the abandoned hotel. He would revel in the helpless expressions painted on their faces as he tortured them. He would delight in their agonized screams as they beg for him to stop. Of course, their efforts would be futile. What if this person knew your exact location? He could see you tonight!

As he appeared in room 666 he came across an arousing situation: his latest victim was restrained, chained to the bed.

"This is 'broad'?" Feitan looked at the woman, who was terrified and then to Phinks who was sitting on the chair in the dusty room.

"Yeah. Pretty thing. I already had my way with her, all I got was that she's seen a girl making a statue."

It didn't take long for . The lights were off, throwing the corners into deep gloom. The lights from the nighttime city, however, flooded in the window and bathed her in a slice of cold light. Her wrists were wrapped together in duct tape and what felt like another strip covered her mouth. She immediately started struggling, trying to sit up in the bed. "You flop around like fish." Feitan's low voice mumbled. "It do no good."

"Hey! Pretty lady is awake." Phinks laughed.

The girl twisted her head around and made out a small man, dressed entirely in black, sitting on the one chair. He was very fair, with inky black hair, giving the disturbing impression of a disembodied dark eyed face and slender hands floating in the darkness. A glint of steel shone in the black. She tried to scream behind the duct tape and began to thrash again.

The small man was instantly beside her, kneeling on the bed, the wicked looking knife pointed casually at her throat. She went very still, eyes wide.

"I told you. Do no good, so stop."

Her exertions had slid her back down onto the bed and hiked her shirt up her back. The man's gaze flickered from her face to her now bare belly. He licked his lips almost nervously and pushed himself back, off the bed.

"I no do anything yet." Feitan rolled his eyes. "She woke up, start to fight tape." He shrugged innocently and the girl glared at him.