You were a criminal, you had to do it to take care of yourself and your family. Or rather, your little brother. Your parents didn't treat him right, but the law wouldn't help you. You would give him anything he wanted if you could.

Unfortunately you had accidentally got mixed up with an enemy of a Task Force. TF141 to be exact. And they wanted to find you. They wanted whatever dirt you had on their enemy.

You were on your way home, after getting into a fight with some drunk dipshit, sporting a dislocated shoulder that you tried to put back into place. It didn't work, and it hurt too much to try again. You see a cat hop out of a trashcan in the alleyway, the feline pausing to stare for a moment; Holding a half-eaten chicken leg. It was skin and bones, just like the rest of this shitty town. It padded away, feeling safe enough to go slowly, since you had froze in place.

The familiar sound of police sirens suddenly brings you back to reality, and you scurry off into the darkness. It was an instinct at this point. Staying hidden, running from the law. Even if they weren't after you.

By the time you got home, it was late, and nothing seemed out of place; Not until you opened the door to find your already disgusting apartment, trashed. Completely trashed. The light to the kitchen was on, and you got a bad feeling. But before you could turn around and leave, a rough hand landed on your shoulder. Looking up you saw a tall and sturdy man, wearing a skull mask.