The outdated and obsolete neons of the home of the 'Scraps', outlaw sewer dwellers from beneath the city of San Angeles, flicker and buzz with a low 'hum'. Various folks from different walks of life, dirty and skeptical but warm, a community, mill about the sunken streets.

"So, here's the plan, let's listen up." Edgar friendly, the previous 'scourge of San Angeles' a vagrant and wild man, is talking to his fellow sewer dwellers. "Hey," He calls, half playful. "Means you too, shitheads." He points at the group laughing and chatting. When a small trio of cops came down from the surface, he was skeptical, but eventually he listened to the now thawed cop of the past, John Spartan. For the betterment of his people's, he plans to help them kill Simon Phoenix in exchange for also eliminating Cocteau.

"It's a first, but we got some pals on the surface," he motions to Alfredo Garcia, a surface cop and friend of Lenina and Spartan who stayed after some crossfire. "And those 'pals' are gonna help us stick it to that asshole Cocteau, his new sadistic fuck of a lap dog, and his fascist fuckin' society! So, a few days from now, we mobilize, dig? This ain't a grocery run, ladies." His men cheer in response, as he shakes his shaggy locks and smiles at Garcia, before cracking open an illegal beer. "In a world where its impossible to eat meat, cuss, or be an individual, its not surprising a big dick-swingin' personality like me wasn't gonna make it up there." He had told Garcia this when he patched him up the day before. The surface dweller is growing on him. But, so is someone else.

Clinking the top of his beer with a few other 'Scraps', he makes his way over to a shoddy couch set up near the makeshift club house he and his closest men inhabited. "Enjoying the party, surface dweller? Cmon, your with us now, crack open some beer, live a little, get shitfaced. Maybe, I don't know, fucking spray paint some something."