Synopsis

He awoke to a fractured sense of self, a hollow echo where identity should have resided. The world swam in a haze of disorientation, the familiar rendered alien. Fragments of memory flickered – a metallic tang, a crimson glow – but coalescing into a coherent past proved impossible. He was adrift, a ghost in his own body, stripped of his name, his purpose, his very being. The Junkyard Dogs, sensing vulnerability, circled like vultures. Their intentions were clear: to mold him, to corrupt him,