I was empty.

I had nothing.

But that was fine.

I couldn't say I was discontent.

After all, I had never known anything, to begin with.

How could I desire things I couldn't even understand?

The world was a blur.

And I was the blurriest speck in it.

An empty container.

What even was I?

Was I even alive?

My form.

My name.

My voice.

All were unknown to me.

How had I gotten here?

Where was here?

That I didn't know either.

Honestly, I didn't care.

I didn't think I even could care.

I was nothing.

There was nothing I wanted.

There was no reason I needed to exist.

I would have been content to simply find some corner to nestle in.

And wither away.

Well, perhaps not content.

After all, I didn't understand what it meant to be content.

But perhaps some part of me was alive or at least wanted to be.

For dumbfoundingly, I continued to eat, and I continued to sleep.

And so, I continued to exist.

It seemed like that might not continue for much longer, however.

My body hit the wall with a sharp crack.

Had something broken?

Was there even something to break?

"You think you're hot shit or something?"

He seemed to think so.

"This is my turf. Don't think you can take my food, you rat!"

I stared at him blankly

Or perhaps I was staring through him.

He seemed to shudder at the look.

"You freak."

The moon was awfully pretty, I thought.

Huh?

That was a surprise.

Had I ever thought anything like that before?

"I'll do you the favor of putting you out of your misery," he snarled.

That was fine.

I didn't really care.

A shoe slammed into my stomach.

A fist turned my whole body sideways.

I continued to look at the moon.

And he continued beating me.

I idly wondered what death would be like.

Expressionless as always.

Until my eyes widened just a little bit.

A cane came from out of view.

A sharp crack emitted as it slammed into my assailant's head.

And a sharper crack still when the same head crashed to the ground.

Was he dead?

I wondered if he would tell me what death was like.

"Fucking street rats," this new figure muttered.

He cut an unusual picture with his flamboyant outfit bathed in moonlight, and his cane smeared with fresh blood.

"Hey kid, you okay?" he said as he finally turned to look at me.

I merely continued to look at him.

"Fuck" he hissed, "the bastard really did a number on you. What did you even do?"

I merely continued to look at him.

His eyes widened a bit, and he sighed.

"Ah, you're broken in more ways than one, aren't you?"

So something had broken after all?

That was surprising.

"You know you'll probably die if you stay like that."

That was fine.

I wasn't opposed to the thought.

He sighed even harder at my lack of response, however.

Looking towards the sky, he muttered, "Me and my bleeding heart. I thought I was aiming to be a criminal mastermind."

Then he stepped towards me and, crouching, laid a hand on my shoulder.

"For it is in survival that we achieve immortality. Through this, we are bathed in the desire and selfishness to rise above all. Infinite in ambition and unbound by law, I release your soul, and by my hand, gift thee."

Something flowed through me.

Something inexplicable yet wonderful.

I could feel it flow through my veins and wash over my skin.

The dull aches that I paid no heed to slowly left my body as if they had never been there at all.

And for the first time in my existence, my vision was not blurry at all.

For the first time in my existence, I felt like I might be alive.

I felt that I might be me.

I looked at my hand in wonder and, for the first time, realized that I thought of it as mine.

I became aware of my own self.

"Hey, now there's an expression," he said with some level of self-satisfaction in his tone.

I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know what to say.

I just looked at him once more.

"Still not a talker, though, it seems," he sighed, a little deflated.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and set me upright before standing up and dusting off his jacket.

His hands came away a little red.

"Damn it; I'm going to have to get this washed," he grumbled at the sky.

He began to walk away, but before he fell out of sight, suddenly he turned to look at me.

"Some advice, kid, no matter how broken you are, next time fight back."

And then, with a tip of his hat, he was gone.

My savior disappeared into the night.

I sat there for a while.

For how long, I don't know.

It suddenly seemed as though I had a great many things to think about.

Yet, I did not know what these things were.

I had gained an awareness I believed I would never have but had never acquired the faculties to understand it.

Maybe that man could help me?

As my thoughts drifted to him, I unexpectedly realized that he intrigued me.

How he complained about something while doing it anyways.

How he hurt some and yet saved others.

And a question emerged: Why had he picked me?

My own thoughts shocked me.

I had never been interested in something before.

I had never had a question that I truly wished to be answered.

My thoughts had always been dull, emotionless.

Yet now, I recognized for the very first time ever that I felt desire.

I wanted to see him again.

I wanted to know him.

I wanted to understand him.

And so I stood.

And as the bright sun shined down on me, I began to walk.

My feet wobbled, and I fell a number of times.

Yet each time, I lifted myself to my feet.

My wandering search had begun.

A search that felt oh so very long yet shorter than the blink of an eye.

An eternity and an instant.

I walked, and I walked.

I wandered, and I wandered.

Yet, most importantly, I searched.

I had a purpose.

My journey was not a peaceful one.

It seemed violent confrontation was a universality among city rats.

"You think you're tough or something?"

The first was so similar that I smiled.

How nostalgic.

How amusing.

"You laughing at me!? I'll teach you why they call me Sir in these parts, you dirty rat!"

His fist rocked my face.

I fell to the floor.

Yet things did go as planned for Sir.

He cradled his hand as though he had punched a wall.

"What!?"

And I stood the smile still on my face.

The man with the hat's gift flowed through me.

And then I was upon him.

Lacking technique made up for by a ferocity that such a boy had never seen.

I hit, I clawed, and I bit no matter how he tried to break me.

No matter how broken I was.

"Argh!"

In a panic, he grabbed a nearby bottle and smashed it against me.

Over and over.

Yet I persevered, and eventually, he stopped moving.

I doubted Sir would ever move again.

Blood clung to my raggedy clothes.

Both mine and his.

My blood was pumping.

My heart was thumping.

My breathing was labored.

I felt so alive.

The gift ran over my wounds and closed them.

And I stood ready to continue my search.

Many others accosted me.

Rats with big mouths, puffed-up chests, and silly names.

But it seemed I had a talent for this game they played.

A talent for killing.

Fast and small yet durable and ferocious.

At some point, I had acquired a knife.

Where?

I don't really remember.

But after a certain amount of blood had found itself on my person, no one attempted to play their games with me again.

Until finally, I found him.

There he was once again under the moonlight just a short distance away.

I gasped.

My legs felt a little weak.

Yet, I stumbled towards him.

Someone stepped in my way.

I hadn't even noticed him.

"What're you doing out here, brat?"

He looked me up and down.

"A street urchin? Get lost."

I stepped forward.

"Hey, that's far enough."

He made to stop me.

And then he gasped as he suddenly found himself on the ground.

And my knife at his throat.

Just as I made to push down, however, a voice stopped me.

"Drop the knife."

His cane was pointed towards me, revealing some sort of barrel.

"You see, I paid a pretty penny for this incompetent I can't have him dying on me."

A bright smile overtook my face, and I quickly dropped my knife and rose to my feet.

"Ah, you actually listened; that's nice for a change ..." he trailed off.

His eyes narrowed as if looking for something.

After a moment, recognition flashed across his face, and he muttered, "You're that girl ..."

I nodded gleefully.

I didn't know what a girl was, but I was happy he recognized me.

"Well, I'll be damned. I can't say I saw this coming" suddenly, his eye twitched, "you're not here to bite me in the ass, are you?"

I shook my head.

He smiled a small relieved smile before turning a frown towards the man still on the floor.

"You lost to a little girl? What am I paying you for?"

The man, half humiliated, half terrified, stammered his excuses.

"Boss, you don't understand this girl ... s-s-she's a monster. She had me before I could even move."

The man in the hat raised an eyebrow and turned to look at me.

"That any true?"

My smile turned a tad mischievous, and I shrugged.

His lips turned up a bit at my response.

"Well, regardless, I'll admit I'm pleased that my effort wasn't wasted and you're doing well. As a result, I'm more than happy to just forget this little incident here, and the two of us can move on with our lives. I'm in a bit of a hurry so see ya, kid."

He turned and began walking away, motioning to a few men who looked nervously at my bloodstained clothes to begin moving their conspicuous cargo.

However, only a short while later, he turned back around towards me with a confused expression.

I had followed him step by step naturally.

And just as naturally, none of the others had the courage to stop me.

"What?"

I tilted my head questioningly.

"What do you want? Why are you following me?"

I merely pointed at him.

His expression only scrunched up further in confusion.

I laughed.

It was a silent little laugh, but it may have been the first I ever had.

Slight annoyance spread across his face.

"Hey, don't laugh. Well, at least now I know you can't talk, not that you won't."

I stifled my remaining giggles and nodded.

"So you want something from me?"

I hesitated, unsure myself before opting for a shrug.

He let out an exasperated sigh.

"You sure aren't making this easy for me."

I shrugged again.

"So what, you're just going to keep following me?"

I nodded.

He ran a hand across his face.

"So what's in it for me? Why should I indulge you in whatever this is?"

I slid a finger across my throat in response.

His eyes hardened immediately.

His tone dropped dangerously.

"You'll kill me if I don't?"

My smile faltered somewhat, but I shook my head calmly.

His hard expression disappeared almost immediately, and an almost sad one replaced it.

"You'll kill for me if I do?"

I nodded, pleased that he understood me.

"That blood isn't yours, is it?"

A bit of both, I conveyed by shaking my hand.

He let out a weighty breath.

His smile was bitter.

"I did tell you to fight back, didn't I"

I nodded, a large smile spreading on my face.

He looked up at the sky as if seeking some sort of answer.

We stayed like that for a little while.

Eventually, he took off his jacket and laid it on my shoulders, grimacing visibly as it touched my dirt and blood-ridden figure.

I tilted my head at him with a confused expression.

He turned away from me and muttered, "We need to get you better clothes; you shouldn't wear something like that."

We?

My eyes opened wide, and my mouth fell a little open.

He scowled at me.

"Don't look at me like that. So what if I feel a little responsible? You wanted this, didn't you?"

I nodded rapidly.

Excitement and joy bubbled in my gut.

His expression softened, and he looked a little uncomfortable.

"I can't just keep calling you kid. You got a name?"

I shrugged and shook my head.

He sighed again.

I seemed to make him do that a lot.

He stared at me for what seemed like a long time.

It was the first time I had ever been bashful.

"Neo," he said suddenly.

I looked at him, confused.

He ruffled his hair awkwardly.

"You know Neopolitan, kind of like the color of your hair."

I grabbed some of my frazzled multicolored hair and looked at it questioningly.

He looked sour, but I nodded at him very happy indeed.

For the first time, I had a name.

"Do your eyes always do that?" he asked.

I tilted my head once again.

"You know your eyes. They keep changing colors. Have you never looked in a mirror?"

I shook my head and shrugged.

"Well, I guess there's a whole new world out there for you, Neo."

He grinned.

I smiled.

"Let's go."

I tugged on his shirt, now bereft of his accompanying jacket.

"Hmm, what?"

I pointed at him and mouthed: "Name."

"Ah"

A cocky grin spread across his face, filled with enough ambition and confidence to fill the ocean.

"I'm Roman Torchwick, the greatest criminal this city's ever seen. I'm aiming to be king in this city. You stick with me, Neo, and we're going to go places the two of us."

He held out a hand.

A tingle ran through my body.

I took his hand without hesitation.

And so Neopolitan was born.

My very first birthday.