The city’s heart pulses ceaselessly with the glow of neon and the throb of a pumping bass line. A light, insistent rain tumbles from the sky, closing the buildings and streets in on themselves. As it falls it collects the dust and smog from the thick air and breaks the flickering lights from below into a billion tiny pieces.

Far from the neon, in the winding maze of alleyways, a man, or something like one, lays half-buried in a mound of trash. Very slowly and groggily he wakes to find he has no knowledge of who or where he is. In the minutes it takes him to extricate himself from the garbage he searches his memory to find it all but empty. He is sure that this is not normal. That it needs his attention. At the moment, however, there are things which need his attention more. He is dizzy. There is a sharp pain in his neck. He is ravenously hungry. He bares his teeth, long and sharp, and sets off in search of a warm meal.