His eyes opened, blurred, as the room finally came into focus. His heart began to race as he looked around confused. He sat up to realise he was on an autopsy table. He attempted to remember who he was, but he couldn't.

"wha...what the hell?" he whispered to himself, panicking, his breathe heavy. He got to his feet and grabbed some clothes that were on a chair at the side of the table. He slowly opened the door wearing blue jeans, a black t-shirt, a hoodie, boots and an overcoat. He stuck his head out of the door and looked both ways to see an empty corridor, he immediately caught sight of the exit door and rushed towards it. He swung it open and ran into the rain, the cold air hitting his face. He finally stopped to take a breathe, his head spinning, he was disorientated as he collapsed backwards into the wall behind him. He was in London, graffiti could be seen on numerous walls around him, it was a rough neighborhood Cars drove by, music booming out of there windows. The man caught his breathe and stood up straight, as his hand found his pocket he felt something inside. He pulled it out to see a wallet. He opened it and saw a five pound note and change, he found an ID he squinted to try and see the name, his head pounding. The name read "Nathaniel Schuber."

The man had been walking for what seemed like hours, he had found a letter in his pocket with an address that read "173 Smithson street." There were also a set of house keys. He saw a police officer and asked him where this street was. He caught a cab and arrived on Smithson Street.

The building was on the corner, he payed his cab fair and walked to the door and unlocked it. As he entered he was immediately greeted by a worried looking old woman. She rushed towards him. "Mr Schuber? Where have you been!? I haven't seen you in weeks."

He struggled to speak. "I...uh...I've been away." He lied. He thought that he could hardly tell her the truth, she would think he'd gone insane.

"Oh my, I hope everything is okay."

"Just a personal family matter, miss." He lied again.

"Well I'll keep my nose out of it then." She sniggered. "And I told you before call me Marianne, Nate."

He smiled pretending he knew what she was talking about.

"Well let's get you up to your room." She led him up a flight of stairs. "You get yourself warmed up Nate. Oh yes and by the way, while you were gone a lady has rented the room across the hall. Be sure to say hello tomorrow, her name's Melissa."

Nate unlocked the door. "Okay I will, thanks Marianne, good night."

"Good night." She headed back down the stairs and he closed the door.

Later on Nate was laid in bed searching through his mind. Trying to remember anything about his life. He figured he'd search his room in the morning and see if he could find anything of use.