Mr. Tugger was exhausted. A week or so ago he had been assigned to investigate some strange goings on in China Town NYC. Apparently, some of the businesses weren't quite kosher in their methods of miney-making. He had been up all night working on the case, and it had just lead to another dead end. He had been getting a lot of those lately.

He walked up to the front lawn of the house, and ducked under some yellow police tape. It was early in the morning [too early, if you ask him.], and he was due for his morning coffee. Needless to say, he wasn't very chipper. He must've looked like a wreck, too. He had hardly slept at all last night. Just thinking of sleep made him wish he could go back home. But this wasn't a leisure trip, so he'd have to suffer through it.

He passed an officer on the patio of the house, who was scribbling furiously on his little note pad. He squinted at Tugger and waved him over.

"Hey you! you ain't authorized to be-" he paused as Mr. Tugger held up his license.

"Ain't you a little...ah... High up for this case?" He asked tentatively.

"I'm here to see someone." He said, brushing past the man.

Tugger crunched on broken glass as he entered the house, and the remains of the splintered door creaked under his weight. Who ever had done this had been sloppy to say the least.

He found the person he was looking for in the dining room.

Calling it chaos would be an understatement. Photographs littered every surface, ripped or taped together, and plastic baggies were being filed into various boxes. It was clear that pictures had been ripped off the walls from the holes, and spray paint marked half of the old rug.

In the center of it all was a slim, strong man in a nice suit, his black hair with silvery hints was messed and fell around his strong face. His legs were crossed an he was examining two halves of torn photos in each hand.

"Vandalism?" Tugger asked him.

"Robbery." The man said, with out looking up.

"What? No 'hello'? No 'Hey, man! I haven't seen you for seven and a half months, how was Cuba?'" Tugger placed his hand on his heart. "I am deeply wounded, sir!"

The man rolled his eyes and stood up, heading back outside.

"Aw, c'mon, Munk!" Tugger called, following after him. "Give me something to work with here. How's your girlfriend? How is the new job? Are you even listening?"

Munkustrap stopped at a medium sized van and pulled out his laptop, opened it, and started typing.

"Jean and I broke up two months ago and the job is just great. Thank you for asking." He said, in a monotone voice. He picked up his laptop and started to head back into the living room.

"Aww, old Jeany? Well, she wasn't exactly a beauty queen anyways..."

Munk shot him a glare as he sat in one of the non-broken chairs in the room, placing his computer on his lap.

"What do you want, Tugger?"

"What, I'm not aloud to stop by just for kicks?"

Munk gave him a pointed look.

"Alright, alright." Tugger said, putting his hands up. "You caught me." He sighed, leaning on the wall opposite his friends chair, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I think you need to come back." He said softly.

Munk furrowed his eyebrows. "Tugger you know I can't-"

"We really need you! You were the best in the business! Well, besides me." Munk gave an indignant snort at this. Tugger shrugged. "I need my partner back, Munk."

He sighed heavily and looked up at Tugger. "Look, I left for a reason. I... I just couldn't live like that anymore, you know? I don't have the stumach for it. And I want to settle down. Have a family. I wouldn't be able to with that kind of work. I'd always be worried about them." He smiled sadly at the ground. "Besides, I was just holding you back. Not to mention, I think you'll enjoy your new partner."

Tugger leaned strainer from his position on the wall, curiosity in his eyes. "You know who my partner is going to be?"

Munk nodded.

"Well, what is he like? Do I know him?"

"Actually-" Munk started, but was cut off by a loud hissing noise coming from his laptop. He shook it and tapped the space bar, clearly worried.

"What the heck is that?" Tugger asked. The noise was getting louder and higher, and he had to cover his ears. Munk typed quickly, keeping his attention trained on the screen.

"I-I don't know. My computer just froze with some picture of some kind of symbol on it... I can't really make it out it's really-"

Suddenly the wall behind him exploded, bursting into flames, with a loud boom. The scattered picture quickly ignighted, flames licking up the walls. Bits and prices of debree from the explosion thrown everywhere.

"Munk!" Tugger cried, shielding his face with his hands from the heat. He could see his friend slumped on the floor, knocked from the chair from the force of the explosion. Half of his face was bloodied and he wasn't moving.

"Munk, can you hear me? Munk!"