~~

My first memory is waking up in a cold ally. I was a kid and practically helpless. All I knew was my name, and only a first. Not much to go on. So, someone took me to the police, who said I was about ten, and they stuck me in an orphanage for a few days while they checked out the local hospitals, because I was found dressed in a hospital gown and oversized jacket.

After about a week of searching, I was put in a foster home with three other kids. I remember they teased me, said I was a stiff. I didn't have any sense of humour, and obeyed everything that I was told to do. One day, they sneaked up behind me and saw my tattoo, the barcode on the back of my neck. They asked me if it was from a gang. I told them yes, because I couldn't remember where or when I got it. Then I showed them some of my self-defence techniques. After that, they didn't bother me anymore, sort of like they respected me. At least I had one happy month there.

Then the pulse hit.

~~