You were a rare breed - an Angel. In a world like this, there were angel hunters. Your kind was hunted, wings harvested in exchange for a hefty wad of cash. You had always been meticulous about where you flew, but you had made a mistake. Struck down by an arrow, you went plummeting. When you fell you broke both wings, cushioned only by a thick layer of snow.

Lucky for you, Agent Kennedy had come to your rescue. He just so happened to be at the right place at the right time and scooped up your unconscious body, lugging you back to his isolated cabin in the forest. As you recovered, remaining in and out of consciousness, he nursed you back to health for the next few days. You’d woken up in an old pair of clothes, your chest and wings bandaged tightly.