A blink or two, indulged in the darkness surrounding him, he opens his eyes. his eyes try to adjust to the absence of the light in the room he found himself in.

  With no memories, no train of thoughts. Only aching muscles and fragile bones, bruises covering on every inch and corner of his humanly flesh.

  "A boy.." He thought to himself, "I'm a boy.." as his fingertips traced his weak frame.

  At least that much was clear.

  The boy managed to stand on his shaky feet, with no idea how he got here.

  No clue why, either.

  The next task at hand was easy to figure out; as his gaze landed on a closed door — his only way out of this room.

  He stepped forward.

  As his hand turned the handle of the door; a beam of light came through the creaking door's gap.

  A cruel contrast to the dark, damp room he was in — the boy now stood in front of a lively vibrating city.

  Neon colours flooded his vision, signs pointing to all directions — mechanical sounds, and the chants of a restless crowd in the distance.

  The streets seemed more alive than people walking them; constant motion that never seemed to stop.

  Faces everywhere, some human — some not anymore.

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  But one thing was for sure, none of them were familiar to the boy's gaze.

  He didn't know what to expect, but certainly not this.

  The boy moved, wether it was with or against the crowds that was a whole discussion of it's own, but he let himself be swallowed by the notion.

  Looking around as he was marching through the crowds, each seemed drowning their own world — lifelessly walking.

  The boy noticed a dog; a blue eyed dog with white fur and a cute robotic tail — he ran after it but the dog was way too fast.

  Between the busy crowds and the unmatched speed of the animal, the boy hit into a figure.

  Looking up; it was an old man with a tall figure and robotic arms — none of them was new, it didn't seem like it to the boy at least.

  The old man opens his mouth and a raspy voice comes out of it; a static tone you'd think you're tuning an old radio.

  "You won't find it here kid.." he says, as his drool keeps on dropping on his old rusty robotic chest — or half of it at least.

  The words were cutting off; it looks like his metallic throat has already been gone for years now.

  "Took you long enough.. But you won't find it here" he said.

  A drunk if you've ever seen one, not that it was familiar to the boy — or as if it mattered at all.

  The old man's words, regardless of how they were delivered; stuck with the boy for some reason, they seemed familiar — in a world that's unknown to him, familiarity was something the boy seeked.

  And seeking — was what he did.

  Weeks slipped by. The boy learned to survive in the cracks of the city — stealing when he had to, scavenging when luck allowed. The nights were spent curled between cold walls; not those of a house. No. the walls of the dark alleys sharing silence with the kind of people the world had long forgotten.

  Necessity and experience shapes a person, and for that he was shaped and matured.

  The boy's previously narrow vision and short sight; seemed to grow and expand the more he spent time in these streets — he dared to look further, and desire more.

  It was one of these late walks; no home to go back to — he wanders, past neon signs and music blasting from the clubs, and whorehouses; outside there were women that stood beneath the flickering light; the painted smiles on their faces couldn't hide the hollow beneath. Some even called for him — "Let me make you a man, honey..." one of them calls for the little aimless boy, If only to make a coin.

  That's the kind of place Ravel city was.

  The boy had wandered a little too deep into an unfamiliar district — eyes drawn by the flicker of broken neon, stomach twisting in hunger.

  A moment of inattention was all it took.

  The boy finds himself faced by a young man — Dirty torn clothes, bruises on his face and a hostile stance, the boy felt fear creeps into his skinny bones through his soft muscles.

  The moment the boy tried to turn around, he found someone else behind him — then two others joined them.

  He was surrounded.

  "Give us what you have!" The first man shouted, sharp and dry. Which caused for the little boy to get startled and panicked.

  "I... I don't have anything." the boy responded.

  This was a mistake and the boy knew it.

  In Ravel City, having nothing to give meant your life was the only thing left to take.