Marcus stopped himself in the middle of the streets of District One, looking down at his own hands in confusion. Why did they look so different, so strange? Bruises were marred across them, as well as already rapidly healing lacerations. He didn't go anywhere last night, did he? He would occasionally wake up in an unknown location, unaware of the events that had transpired previously. Was it the hallucinations? He wasn't insane, [i]"Just a side effect of the rehabilitation."[/i] the doctors had told him. 

Marcus placed a hand on the few remaining syringes in his coat pocket, sighing dejectedly. He needed something to eat. He made his way across the District, eventually entering Cafe Pinot (coincidence? Maybe) and was ushered into a small booth by a window. He looked down at his hands once more; any previous injuries were faded away. Marcus' mouth was left agape at the sight, as he flipped his hands over and over in front of him. The injuries were there just less than 10 minutes ago. Was he *really* going mad? 

[i]"What can I get for you, Sir?"[/i] Marcus jumped up in his seat as a female voice spoke to him. He looked up slowly, offering a warm, if not somewhat weak smile towards the waitress, a young dark-haired woman no older than 25. "Umm, hi, yes. I'd like a glass of Coke to drink, please. And a french toast plate, too, if you don't mind." His words, though troubled, came out as polite and friendly. 

He handed his menu to the girl, who offered her own smile before walking off. Marcus looked up and around him, stopping shortly on a tall, lanky man in a thick, closed trench coat and fedora disguising his visage. Marcus couldn't help but stare at the man for some time, but was appalled when the man disappeared from site after Marcus had blinked. 

He fingered for one of his syringes again but stopped himself. It had only been about 30 minutes since his last injection. An overdose could overload his brain cells and kill him in minutes. 

Marcus lost himself in his own thoughts, only offering a half-hearted, distracted 'thank you' as his food arrived. He ate in silence, his hair swept in front of his face. However his head shot up as he saw three individuals arrested in the middle of the restaurant. 

He recognized one of the officers leading the raid, and approached him quickly. "Harrison, what's going on here?" Marcus asked concernedly. "What? How do you know my name? Piss of, civilian, before I turn you in too." The gruff man responded. 

Marcus looked more confused than ever as all three individuals, now handcuffed and escorted, were taken out and put in the squad cars. How did Marcus know that officer? Why was he getting involved? He didn't know. Sitting down slowly, Marcus returned to his food and his thoughts, completely lost for words and understanding.