"God dammit, what the hell should i wear?", muttered Rupert to nobody in particular. He lived alone in a 2nd floor flat on the Breckland Estate - the most dodgy place in the whole of Birmingham. It was ruled by gangs and it wasn't safe to go outside alone after dark so when there was an eclipse, you should be very worried.
He lived in a one bedroom small, old flat. It had come with only a wet mattress, a broken oven and a used toilet when he had moved in. His flat had a view of, well, nothing you would pay good money for. He could see a disused childrens playground which had been untastefully decorated with grafitti, the off liscence which was surrounded by teenagers smoking who knows what and the park, if you could even call it that. The park was literally a small stretch of mud complete with a broken bench and one tree. How this tree had managed to survive for so long was a miracle as all of the other trees that had once been in the park had been burned down. The tree had been re-planted 3 days ago.
Rupert looked into his desolute wardrobe which consisted of one pair of pjamas, 3 pairs of underwear and socks and a suit with three different holes in it. His suit was his normal work clothes which he washed and dried overnight every week. Deciding what to wear normally wasn't a problem for Rupert but this was a posh party so he felt that his suit wasn't good enough. After minutes of tireless deliberation, he eventually picked him pjama top, his black trousers, a tie and his slippers. As if this didn't seem bad enough, his pjamas and slippers proudly bore a pattern of rubber ducks.
He didn't seem to notice that his attire was unusually matched as he did not own a mirror that hadn't cracked in the time he had owned it for. All he knew, was that he was late. It was almost 7:30 and he didn't have a clue where the Duke of Wales Road was. He looked at his map and decided that he needed to go north for 2 miles. He stepped out of his flat and locked the door. This was a relatively new thing for Rupert as he had recently discovered that locking his door was probably a good idea on the Breckland Estate. He had been burgled twice now although as he didn't own anything of value, he had no idea why they bothered coming back the second time. He walked down the stairs quickly. He always walked down the stairs as he hated lifts and had a phobia of them.
As he walked out of the door from his block of flats, the strong smell of smoke and petrol hit him like a slap across his face. He looked over to the park where he knew the source of smoke had to be. It was the last tree in the park being burned down by a gang of old ladies with walking sticks. Rupert sighed and walked to where he believed that the Duke of Wales Road was and was dismayed to find that he was on the Prince of Wales Road instead. Astounded, he scanned the map again and found that the road he was looking for was in fact 2 and a half miles south of where he was now. He felt like screaming in protest but there was a group of young girls across the road from him and he didn't want to look like a complete idiot infront of them. After all, he was only 22 and didn't have a girlfriend, and the way he was heading, he was unlikely too as well. He started the long trek to the posh hotel and thought about what he should say when he got there. He knew that he didn't fit in with the crowds of well to do, above board Private Investigators. Oh well, he thought. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.