From the back of the bar Propaganda sat with a filter of a cigarette tightly gripped between his thin lips. The smoke rose from ignited tobacco and added to the smokey conjuration that hovered over the dimly lit room. If one were to peruse over the scene, Propaganda would seem to fade into the background as if he were lonely bystander. This is the way he liked it. Influence from the shadows was the strategy employed by the young Propaganda, because he's used to seeing the people who put their heads out there often loose it a lot easier. The foundation of Propaganda's head and its attachment to its proper ligaments was something he never took for granted. On the very night  before Propaganda had committed his first day of crimes, and now decided to spend the morning after drowning away the twisted feeling in his chest. Whiskey usually did the job, but tonight his conscious was running rampant with ruminations of guilt. He took another sip, and relaxed farther into his seat. His eyes darted around the room as conversations played out in front of him; he eavesdropped on a few exchanges of voices, not for the purpose of gaining information, but because of the fact he was utterly bored and there was nothing else for him to spend the hours of his day on. People voices echoed through his head, and they seemed to get louder, until the point he couldn't take it anymore. In his drunken stupor, Propaganda rose from his seat with one hand balancing his fluctuating weight. The path before him seemed to turn back and forth, and change proportion as his legs lumbered to the crowd of people sharing a few laughs at the bar. 

So, you'a.. you'a all been here awhile, huh? Well, I'm new to the area. They call me Propaganda. It was driving me crazy to sit there and hear you all talk, I had to make an abrupt introduction so that maybe I could make a few new friends. My corner over there is very dark and lonely, so if anyone would mind appeasing my dissonance and sharing a drink with me, I'd appreciate it.

Before anyone could properly respond, Propaganda retreated back to his corner as if awaiting someone to come sit next to him. That man seemed odd at first glance, but his intentions seemed innocent enough.