Suddenly a load *BANG* shatters the silence of the empty cul-de-sac. It echos off into the distance, bouncing between the old forsaken building and cars before finally dissipating. Silence again.

Then, another *BANG,* like a gunshot, ratted around, and this time when it fades a sound can be heard. A motor, puffing and puttering, and as the vehicle rounds the corner into the cu-de-sac it lets out another backfire. The van is old, very old, rounded like something from the 1970s, and across it's body is splashed a shinny, swirly pattern of psychedelic colors. 

It rolls up beside you, the tinted driver side window slowly rolling down, and you get your first look at the driver. He's small, his head barely coming up above the window. His skin is puffy, soft looking, and of a deep blue color. His hair is curly and orange, he's wearing a little black drivers suit, complete with bow tie, his nose is bulbous and the same color as his hair, and he grips the wheel with his long thin arms. But the most striking things are his eyes. Wide, unblinking, and dead. Like a dolls eyes.

You share a long silence with the puppet in the drivers seat, the only sound the rumbling of the idling engine as he looks you up and down appraisingly. Then he nods, and makes a little "Hmm" sound, before saying in a friendly voice "Excuse me Mack, but do you happen to know the location of TYGER headquarters? We're here to learn about Stands."