The inside of the warehouse was surprisingly homely, with loose tiny lights strung across a central living quarter. A set of couches were set in this central quarter, along with a table filled to the brim with styrofoam packaging and papers. The scent of tangy sauces and fried rice still lingered in the air, open containers still holding onto the crumbs of previous dinners. Hidden in the dark crevices of the warehouse looked to be tools and bulky machines, with only one machine humming along, probably the source of the generated power. Ladders led up to the hastily constructed second floor, with sheets of metal and reinforcing bars hastily welded to the original buildings scaffolding to provide additional space to the tenets. Lights were strung up there as well, creating a border around the massive window that ran from wall to wall on the front and back entrances of the building.

“Please, take a seat on the couch and make yourself at home. I’m sure your appetite has been properly whet after your encounter with the Ensemble.” The scrawny boy walked towards a small fridge and collected a bottle of water, soon walking towards a kettle and stove all in the back end of the building.

“What’s the Ensemble? The two crazies that wanted to mug me or the freakish meat monster in the middle of the road?” The Foreigner asked, taking a seat on the couch and unwrapping his now soggy sandwich.

“Oh, it would be the ‘meat monster’ as you refer to it, although they’re more of a help to the district in their purpose of population control. Those that either forget the routine of this civil servant, are not familiar with the customs of this district, or have grown so apathetic with society that they’ve found it an enviable cause to take part in the Ensembles mission and end up like the little bell creatures you saw waddling around.” The boy replied nonchalantly. There was a fragrance of bergamot tea overtaking the lingering scents on the table in front of the Foreigner.

“I… see…” The two stayed silent, with the Foreigner not sure where to take his inquiries next and the little boy transfixed on the tea brewing process. A door slammed open.

“That fucking hurt, you prick!” The girl that had swindled him of three sandwiches and had left him for dead barged into the warehouse.

“I don’t want to hear it from you. You left me for dead out there.” The Foreigner glared at her with his reply, causing her to reel back and retreat to half-hearted niceties.

“I-I knew you were going to handle it though. Your mind looked sharp so I thought you would resist the urge to join the wandering meat monster. Maybe I just had too much faith in you.” She crossed her arms and pouted.

“That wasn’t the right thing to do, Foxtail. Our guest isn’t worth three sandwiches, let alone the moral implications.” The boy stated, now handling a whistling kettle and pouring three drinks in cracked ceramic cups. He walked over and gestured for Foxtail to sit, which she did with great pomp and exasperation. The boy merely served the tea to all parties.

“Oh like he’s an innocent bystander. Peepers, do you know how many Ahn’s he was carrying? That's payment you’d expect from a high grade Fixer and this bozo is walking around with that much as pocket change and without a weapon? Frankly he was asking for it.” Foxtail unwrapped her second sandwich and took vigorous bites interspersed with controlled sips of the warm liquid.

“I’m pretty sure he’s not from here though. We should be willing to help out our fellow man when we can, even if their circumstances are less than scrupulous.” Peepers replied, taking a sip of his own tea.

“Alright, I’m right here, okay? I can hear everything you’re saying and frankly, I’m confused by all of this. I’ve been confused since this morning; I wake up in a room I’ve never seen before with a splitting headache whenever I try to recall particular bits about my past and three people walk up to my room and try to kill me outright? I just… boy, you said you could answer my questions. Would you give me a rundown of what the fuck is going on?” The Foreigner was on edge. The situation was starting to dawn on him, and if he didn’t know where exactly he stood in this world, he was as good as minced meat. Peepers pondered on the series of questions posed by the Foreigner and his eyes suddenly refracted in a shimmering rainbow light.

“This calls for a list! Let me get the pencil and paper.” Peepers ran off to the ladder leading upstairs.

“Oh good. The list.” Foxtail sarcastically stated, setting down the third sandwich next to the cup Peepers was drinking from. Peepers came down with a loose sheet of paper and a wooden pencil, its shaft bitten into from all sides. He scribbled some words on the page before looking up at the Foreigner.

“Okay, this will help all of us organize our thoughts and maybe even help us get to know you better. What’s your name, mister?” Peepers asked with pencil on paper. The Foreigner reeled into his mind, only drawing upon the Arenas family quote on the back of a picture with his supposed family. Drawing any further ramped up the headaches severely.

“I’ve got Arenas, which feels like a last name but I’m unsure. It was written on the back of a picture with myself and what I assume is my family. And if I assume they’re my family, then my son is in danger. I don’t know what my first name is at all and every time I try to recall, my head starts pounding and my breathing gets light to the point that I’m gasping for air. Everyone else has been referring to me as ‘Foreigner’ since I’ve been here so I can roll with that for now.” Peepers penciled a couple of lines before walking over to Foreigner.

“Well Foreigner, my name is Peepers and that’s Foxtail. Glad to make a proper introduction.” Peepers smiled warmly at Foreigner. Foxtail merely waved a hand, more interested in her sandwich than the conversation. “And you mentioned a tightness of the lungs and a headache when recalling information? Do you mind if I inspect the back of your neck please?” Peepers asked. Foreigner was confused but complied. He felt the boys scrawny fingers trace at the nape of his neck.

“It looks like you have a brand of some kind on the back of your neck. If I had to make a guess as to its origins, it probably comes from J Corp, but that’s speculative on my part. If you want more information on its origins, I’d suggest you go talk to the Wired Oceans Company and see if their Meister will have a look at it. I’m pretty sure they deal with interrogation equipment and the like so they might have a better idea of what this brand is doing to you than I do.” Peepers walked back to his paper and traced out the brand, an esoteric set of lines with minor dashes the Foreigner assumed were graft marks.

“Wait, you have a family? What kind of woman would want to end up with a seedy loser like you?” Foxtail asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I was a loser before my memory loss. You don’t just remove the memories of losers off the street. I just hope I wasn’t the seedy type in my past and am paying for the consequences now…” It was scary to think that he in the present had to deal with the consequences of his past and piece together what kind of consequences were in store for him.

“You mentioned that people were trying to kill you? Do you have a description of these perpetrators? Any identifiers?” Peepers asked. Foreigners' memories of these details were much clearer.

“There were three assailants, one robot cast in bronze skin, a pasty white looking individual covered in grime and muck, and a woman in a suit with a purple shawl trailing down from her shoulders to her waist. She carried this large black cross around as well.” Foreigner saw Foxtail perk up.

“Wait, you’re telling me the Banshee’s are interested in you?” Foxtail asked incredulously. This name didn't ring any bells for Foreigner. It wasn’t doing anything for Peepers either.

“There’s rumors off the streets that an all woman office called the Banshee’s run hits for the Seven Association, although their connections aren’t corroborated and a Banshee Office isn’t publicly registered so it’s hearsay.”

“And they’re associated with this mess, how?”

“Well, their uniforms are said to be simple black suits with purple shawls. And if she was carrying a weapon that elaborate, then I can only assume she’s a Fixer for ‘em.” The recognition in the female assailants' eyes flashed once more for Foreigner. If he were going to find answers, he’d need to interrogate her next.

“Well, I guess this is a good start to this mystery. I’ll observe from my end over here. Foxtail, you take Foreigner to Wired Oceans and see if you can get in contact with Jin or his Meister. If Jin’s attending the front shop, tell him I sent you. He still owes me a favor and he can consider it paid if he helps us out with identifying the purpose and origin of the brand. If the Meister is out front, I’m sure he’d investigate on principle of curiosity alone.” Peepers neatly folded the paper into his pocket and walked to an unlit section of the warehouse. “Foreigner. Do you mind helping me lift this out of the tool box? Foxtail is right in pointing out your recklessness. It’s dangerous to walk the Backstreets without a weapon of some kind so I hope this will do.” Foreigner pulled out what looked to be a sizable power tool, an elongated mining pick that, upon touching a button, folded into a smaller lengthened needle.

“Looks like you’re getting the cement borer. Most of those tools are too big for me or Peepers here to use so I’m glad at least one of us could use it.” Foxtail extended her hand out and smiled. “Let us let bygones be bygones now that we’re working together properly this time.” Foreigner was wary of that toothy smile but shook her hand.

“If you betray me again, I’ll be sure to make good use of this thing.” Foreigner stated through a mild grin.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, partner.”