Finn Belli woke up very violently from a blurry dream involving glass and loud metal (the material, not the music), only to find that he'd been locked away in a cramped cage within the bowels of a musty basement cellar. He looked around, confused and dazed, not knowing where he was or why his head hurt so much—nor why he was almost completely naked, besides a flimsy silk sheet thrown on top of him, which was hardly sufficient cover for his gorgeous, aching body. He frowned very daintily as he gazed more fervently at his hideously dreary surroundings, noticing many assortments of knives, buckets and bloody tables; obviously, this was the cellar of a maniac. So, obviously, he had to explore it—but how? His cage was locked, and there would be no way to…wait, no. It isn't locked. The padlock had been left open and, using his eloquently long and delicate man-fingers, he was able to very softly/very forcefully pry it off and finally exit his iron imprisonment without so much as an alarm or a spontaneous act of human-combustion.
Standing up rather stiffly and managing to still have a completely perfect hairstyle, he wrapped the sheet around his waist (even he has standards) and made for the stairwell, intending to get out of the dark basement before his supple skin was permanently damaged from dust exposure—but, hark! What in all hell was that ghastly noise which hath just soiled his sensitive ears!? And lo, a lupine shape doth crouch and growl from beneath the table behind him, causing him much distress and over-reaction as it proceeded to leap gracefully over his cowering form and into the shadows from whence it surely came. Breathing heavily from his pitiful spasm, he looked at the ground around him and spotted a worn-out collar. He shakily picked it up and read the name engraved in silver upon it: "Hailey". What a beautiful name which undoubtedly didn't belong to that thing which had just tried to eat his legs. He decided Hailey was probably some other dog that the retreating chupacabra had eaten for dinner. Such a sad fate for such a lovely-sounding hound; he vowed to end that foul, dog-slaughtering, absconding beast's life if they should ever happen across each-other again, and very swiftly, indeed. Or, at least as swiftly as his weak, precious, mollycoddled arms could muster.
He got up slowly and carefully, still shaken from his fall and barely managing to keep the silken sheet from slipping all over the place. Giving the hellish room one final, brooding look, he turned on his heel and began to dramatically ascend the stairs while the shadows from above enveloped him with uncertainty. Where was he and where was he now going to? What godforsaken place was this and how will he ever possibly escape with his sanity and good-looks intact? Stay tuned…