Damien lingered against the alley wall finishing the remnants of hued liquid from a clear bottle. Drips of water from the sky mixed in with his drink of choice diluting the stuff entering his mouth. The bottle came up to his face as it dangled back and forth alerting him to the sad reality of emptiness. He dashed the bottle to the ground which broke into hundreds of tinier pieces crying out a sweet song. The commotion filled street scampered before him like a moving picture. Floods of horses, men and women moving around on steam powered platforms with wheels and trains zipping one way and the next. Nothing even quivered to the sound of glass shattering, not even the passersby on foot cared to look over. Damien was in his own little corner of the city and a smirk crept onto his face.

He harshly pushed his weight off the wall, stumbling from the strength used. Shallow pools of water danced up his boots and landed on the hem of his coat. A curse came from under his breath as his hand attempted to slap the moisture out of the fabric.

"Damien Lloyd," said a voice. It came from ahead, but the way was too dark to make out a visible source. Whoever it belonged to seemed surprised judging by the tone in the voice. "Since when did you drink yourself mad in the backs of alleyways?" asked the voice.

"Easy to heckle from the shadows when you're too afraid to show yourself," replied Damien.

A steady figure melted from a dark fold of shadow cutting across the cobblestones. A cloak materialized as well as a cowl which shrouded the eyes, but left a pristine face exposed with curled lips of fire.

"Can't even show your face," said Damien. "Typical of those who come after me."

"We all hide something from the people around us, Damien Lloyd," said the cloaked person. "Especially those closest."

"Forgive me, but I don't think we've met."

"You're right, we haven't."

The figure and Damien stood still while the city moved behind them, the commotion of idle speeches and burnt whispers rebounding down the alley. A rain drop clicked against the shallow surface of a pool and the figure vanished. Damien narrowed his sight, unsatisfied with the thoughts pouring into his head. His hand rubbed collected grogginess from his eyes until he felt the hairs on his neck tingle.

"But, I've been watching you Damien," said the voice into his ear. A scent of lilies eroded his senses as a flash of a past life, long forgotten, washed to the forefront of his attention. He spun wildly flinging his clenched fist and arm to attack whatever was behind him, parting the sandy dream before him. A smirk deepened on his face as he felt himself strike something, but immediately found his face pressed to the cobblestone street, his body sprawled across the ground. His arm was on fire and he gritted his teeth while trying to slip free. Vice like fingers wrenched on his arm, digging their nails into his skin.

"Taking advantage of a drunk," said Damien still struggling.

"You're much more than that, but amongst all your progress you can't see what you are," said the voice.

"You lecture me about my life as if you know it personally."

The grip eased and Damien took advantage of the slack, breaking free and swinging wildly in his uninhibited fervor. The figure vanished from his sight as he looked to where he thought the person would be while his fists remained in front of him, close to his face. His hot breath illuminated his hands like electricity.

"I knew the man you once were," said the voice from behind him.

His fists slackened, lowering to his sides as he turned to face the shrouded person residing in the same spot from where it had first appeared.

"You've become part of the war, Damien Lloyd," said the voice and the figure melted in with the shadows leaving only a strange rush of air as a thumbprint unleashing the seal of questions. "The man you were won't save you." The words lingered far past the figures departure. Damien leaned on the alley wall clenching the side of his head as more rain sputtered onto his cloak. Others dashed to cover holding papers above them for temporary shelter, but Damien's sight roamed towards the high tower of the Ministry. He shook his head and paced towards the encroaching night looming above.