The troubles started as soon as Dusk Avenue 57 came into view. It was probably the largest billboard of Taj Mahal that humanity had ever set up, stretching for dozens of metres in every direction in a perfectly proportionate manner. It was also obviously and incredibly fake judging by the dozens of supports that were braced against it, all of which should have been painted over in a manner so as to blend into the picture if it were not for someone being too lazy to do their job properly. The signs which have been hung up on them did not help either, especially seeing as they proudly proclaimed "FRESHLY PAINTED, DON'T TOUCH" in bright, red letters that no one could miss unless they were blind. Then there was also the suspicious lack of activity. True, this was a remote place within the city, but it was practically dead even though it was a Friday evening when most people would go out and party with their friends or head home to their beloved family, which meant they had to pass through this street given its position. Even worse, the nearby buildings that were not covered by the absurdly large billboard were completely void of life as well. There were no lights on in any of them and sensitive eyes could note the fact that all of her entrances had new gates installed with thick, iron bars that prevented entry. Said gates did not seem to have any locks either, but one would be hard-pressed to notice that. Still, this part of the city seemed to have died a horrible, horrible death. The other places? They were completely fine. People were laughing and having a good time with each other as if it was any other typical Friday. It was just as if Dusk Avenue 57 along with the surrounding areas have been removed from their perception. Of course there were stragglers here and there, but all of them turned away in their expedition as soon as they ventured into the abandoned venue of the Mysterious Misery Society. Save for one person who stood in the exact middle of the void. Clad in what appeared to be a medieval knight's armour and holding a rather large sign that read "Mysterious Misery Society", the dark-skinned man appeared to be thoroughly bored. His deep, dark brown eyes were staring off into the distance with a look in them that suggested he awaited some sort of relief or salvation. His features, though they were rather full and pleasant, were indicative that he had not rested for quite some time and that frankly, he was waiting for all of this to be over with. Hopefully, that would happen soon. Because he really did not know how much longer he could play statue.