Light was slowly receding and the space around him was growing cold. He awoke well into the decent of night and his gray eyes gleamed with the feint moonlight pouring in through the window opposite of him. He was in a small room, relatively bare despite the beat up mattress he was sitting on and the candles strewn about. The room was situated on the third floor of an abandoned building near the waterfront of the city, once an old textile building he was in the housing district of what he supposed were the workers rooms. Long since abandoned he had recently claimed this section of the building as his own- the rest being owned by drug addicts, prostitutes, and a minor gang. He was a new comer, only having been in the city for about a month, and so they kept their distance from him.

As he moved himself to get off the mattress he felt a sharp pain singeing through his shoulder. Wincing he brought a hand to it, feeling the damp bandages he had wrapped around it the night before. He thought of the deep gashes in his flesh and the crude stitches he had administered himself. He looked down at the stains of blood and medical supplies he had stolen strewn about his bed; he thought of the pain and gritted his teeth. He needed antibiotics and some painkillers. Standing he made his way across the room and picked a coat off from the ground. Moments later he was slinking his way through the allies, making a beeline toward the local clinic.