If the idea of being stunned, nearly paralyzed was anything but terrifying, the idea of losing what little movement to lack of sound was something he certainly didn't expected. His movements weren't the same, he thought. Or, better yet, he recalled.

The void of sound and the stunted ability to sense, the weary eyes refusing to open and the confusing scents that crippled both smell and taste imprisoned him upon a cage of memories. He couldn't recall very well who he was right before awakening, but the seal upon his memories began to fade. Bits and pieces, small pieces of the giant jigsaw that his memory became began to group each other, forming concise images. He was deprived of sound and sense, his eyesight negated to work, but his brain swiftly acted to turn this disadvantage into fruitful moments. How enjoyable were those moments, it was unknown to him.

He recalled a time, not exactly this one. An alley. Between light and shadow he stood, several people surrounding him. They were laughing maniacally, enjoying the fruits of their labor. One of the men spoke to him...

"Hey Chief, that was exciting!! Let's do it again!!"

"Yeah, yeah!! I never felt so alive in my entire lifetime!! Look, that guy over there!! He seems good: well dressed, lotsa jewelry and stuff. How 'bout we give it a try, 'Jefe'??

He experienced all in first person, even though he couldn't seem to control the action. Yet he felt, somehow, what he was going to do. He felt such anger at the lack of responsibility...no, the lack of care his apparent followers had. He saw the man, and indeed, he recalled doing the same...

The same? What was the same? Almost superposed, a flashback before a flashback, he saw how he emerged from the shadows while the two people that answered him were hitting on a woman, while at the other side a man was to start a fight with them. He drew closer to the man, and lifted him. It seemed, despite how he saw right now, that he held a good deal of strength so as to lift that man, even though the size of his victim was nothing surprising. The man looked terrified, while the two goons asked to him...

"Hey Chief, what with the girl? Can we...get a bit of her?" The first goon that answered her laughed, while he licked the face of the trembling woman.

Then he realized words came from his own mouth. "Go ahead, and hidden. We don't want la policia to come and bust our asses."

"Aww Boss, only him? What, he your favorite now?" The other goon that answered him before the flashback grabbed the breasts of their victim. A third goon, the other one that flirted with the woman, held her by the neck and mouth, so she could be unable to scream. The muffled sounds of despair and the tears flowing from her mouth evidenced the outcome. He saw her, and he saw she was very beautiful. Long blonde hair, green eyes, the typical shape and form of a Gringa...

Wait, "Gringa"? Why, somehow, he recalled what seemed to be slang from his past? All he knew is that, while he was waking from the installation, he saw many people and didn't felt as...lustful as he felt that moment. He gave the grabbed man, desperately trying to release himself, to a small group of his followers. He neared the girl, and...

...a lapse of memory later, he returned to the man. For some reason, he knew, and what he knew broke his desire for her. He left the woman to the desires of his men, while he bashed the desperate man, as he saw how the other goons dragged his woman into someplace unknown. The flashback faded as he began punching the man with heavy knuckles, feeling a mix of excitement and duty.

It was that feeling of duty that returned him to his earlier vision. He watched over the man closely, and felt an eerie feeling surrounding him. He felt, for some reason, the man was not to be touched. A councilman, perhaps, or someone of importance? No, it was that subtle mix of Asiatic features and the impeccable dressing that told him off. Making a move against him would be a terrible mistake.

He grabbed his two men, pushed them and almost simultaneosly punched their guts. He proceeded to warn them of their folly, responsible for the acts they would do.

"Not this time!! El tipo ese...gives me a funny feeling. We're here to make us get known. We here to expand territory." As he explained, he felt how he made a gesture with his hand, which the others recognized, and some even imitated. It was a gesture of crossing their arms upon each other. "Peoples here, they need to know 'bout us. We got to be careful, or we'll be prey of the azules, or worse, snuffed by the competition..."

One of his goons replied in disbelief. "But Jefe, ain't we the best of the gangs? We Maras, y'know."

"Duty before all. Maras are strong, not ..." He recalled his voice lacked the depth he had now, perhaps due to the strong sedative. Or...his age. He realized this was a memory of his youth. "Maras"? He recalled that term...Mara.

Just as it began, the flashback faded. His eyes opened again, his pulse still trembled, his ears began capturing sound yet again. He was alone, the Professor to which he lended his..."powers"; disappeared. Only the walkie-talkie the Professor used was on his hand. He hadn't recovered from his sluggishness. It still was a chore to rise from the floor, when moments ago he fell from what seemed to be tremors. The place was dark, only slight shocks ever lighting the corridor where he stood. Close to him, the complex was nearly divided in half, a large crevasse becoming the dividing barrier between the two halves of the complex. Once up, he stumbled. He could barely hold himself merely standing. He made some slight steps, only to stumble and fall near one of the live wires close to him.

The surge of energy alone should have killed him. He felt the telltale numbness of electricity, the current flowing into him. It caused pain at first, and he flinched. But, the reaction it produced was easy for him to see; his hand moved at a greater speed than before. The live wire arced, then sparked, the shock of electricity pounding upon metal. He resolved to grab the wire from where it was unexposed, and he dragged into one of the walls. Almost instinctively, he placed the live and exposed wire to his arm, and felt how the painful current slowly became ecstatic for him. His pain, his numbness were completely starting to fade. It was like...a drug for him.

He was starting to fade from the world, inebriated by the flow of energy into his body, when suddenly he felt the telltale sound. It seemed the monsters he saw, the ones faced by the others, were still alive and looking for survivors to devour. He awoke, this time with minimal effort. He released the wire, this time with a flow so natural it surprised him. His lost strength and his dexterity were now almost normal; he wasn't as sluggish as before. He could swear he moved faster.

The monster's sound was growing nearer. The monster's movement, judging by the sounds, was erratic, stopping and moving at rare intervals. The shock of the wire touching the metallic surface alerted the monster, and he stood almost completely still. XIII rose to his feet, knowing eventually he would face the monster. He recalled how the sparks caused light to emerge, so he rubbed his forearms in an attempt to create sparks. Indeed, although not by the rubbing, the sparks emerged from his body, in time to reveal the monster was almost right in front of him. XIII wasn't scared, however. There were no brass knuckles this time, but he somehow wasn't afraid. He clenched his fist, ready to strike the monster until it bled from so many fists. His fists began to spark, a current of energy stabilizing upon his fists almost like a knuckle. The monster lunged at him, and XIII weaved down, ready to receive him with a solid uppercut to the monster's apparent gut...