In the humble state of Dhaka, there was an old man who lived on the coastline, along with his daughter, his daughter's wife and their three children, two boys and a baby girl. They were also in the care of an incredibly poor man who they had found living in a cave on the beach, and with their hearts moved by pity they had taken him in, about a month ago. This was the state that this old man lived in, and he was content.

But then one day, as his daughter's family went into the city for a week for a certain festival, he was left alone in the house with the young man. At first, they both stayed in a solemn silence, grateful for each other's respectable isolation, but as the hours grew older the young man began fretting and huffing and fussing, and these actions grew more instense as the night went on. Obviously, the old man was beginning to grow concerned.

"You know, I'm beginning to grow concerned." Stated the concerned old man.

"Concerned!" Sneered the younger, in a jeering mood that the elder man had never seen on him. "You sound like a father! You need not worry on my behalf"

"I don't think I like that tone, young man!"

At this the younger one's eyes flared up in a moment of pure insanity, but then he quickly subdued himself had slumped on his chair. "I'm sorry, after all your family has done for me, I should be grateful. But you see, I cannot stay at this abode any longer."

This response naturally startled the old man. "Whyever is that the case?"

"Because, you see, I have rights that need to be wronged. Old scores that need to be settled, many, many old scores. For example, When I first came to Asia I had no home, and no family. I was taken into a beautiful land that initially welcomed my glorious presence, but soon the fools quarreled amongst themselves. God, they're such idiots! I couldn't even start a civil war properly because they were so fucking deranged!" The young man began spitting in anger when he remembered what had happened. "They banished me from their lands - me of all people - and so naturally I went to the court of many leaders to ask for help, but only the leader of Manchuria would talk to me, and even he turned me down. By that point, I didn't want to save this world, I was going to destroy it! I was going to fucking rip it apart!"

"Calm down, youngster! There's no need to get yourself worked up over a fairytale. Mob the Cleaner has been dead for decades now, he's not coming back."

"Oh, but he never left." Grinned the young man. And with that he pulled out a bright-red, glowing mushroom sort of thing from his coat and, closing his nose, held it in front of the old man that had taken him in. Suddenly the old man's face turned chalk white, drool dripped down his chin, mucus bubbling to the tune of his heartbeat. Within a minute the old man was under the whim of the younger, and soon so would the rest of the miserable town of Dhaka.

And Mob smiled.

It has been many years since that terrible storm swept across Asia, and almost a century since Mob the Insane had left the lands of the Rising Sun in turmoil. Now the world was enveloped in a blanket of relative tranquility, with even Japan revelling in surprising luxury. Across the lands Asia's people, unaccustomed to war, lived happy in the disgusting society they call civilised. To them, it was a time of higher understanding and prosperity.

But to Mob, it was to be the time he would bring his doom on this wretched land.