Light. That was the first thing he could remember. A light so blinding, his eyes watered from the sheer intensity. And as quickly as it had appeared, the light was gone, replaced by a small room the size of an office cubicle. The walls were an unnatural shade of black, as though not made so by paint, but by an energy of some sort. The room would have been completely dark if not for the glowing white outlines that traced the door and the frame of the room in fanciful designs. Where was he? Why was everything so dark?

His attention was then turned to the cluttered and messy contents of the room, which looked strange against the tidy designs that lit the walls. It seemed to be a storage room of some sort, boxes and old furniture were clustered around him, nearly filling the small space. He finally noticed that he was sitting on a cot, which was surrounded on nearly all sides by boxes, save for a path someone had plowed through the chaos. Did he make that path? He couldn't remember. How long had he been in here? Where even was here? Had he always been here?

Why did his head hurt so much?

He suddenly felt overcome with a feeling of loss, though he couldn't fathom what it was he could have lost. His existence had begun mere hours ago, and yet he felt like he had lost a lifetime of memories. Why was that? Who even was he, anyway?

He wouldn't ever know the answers to these questions, he reasoned, if he stayed in this empty room by himself.

He attempted to stand up, but shakily fell over after a few seconds. It was like he had never stood up before. Had he ever stood up before? He must've, because his shoes were coated in scuffs from years of wear. Determined, he took the few steps to the door of the walk-in-closet sized room, only to realize there was no handle, nor did there seem to be one on the other side. How do you even open it, then? Is he trapped in here? Is there even anybody else in this strange place with him? He raised a fist to pound on the door, only to catch his eye on something shiny to his left. There was a full length mirror leaning against the opposite wall, and though it was covered in dust and obviously very old, the glass was clear enough that he noticed something peculiar about himself.

His eyes. They were a bright shade of silver, borderline white, and had an almost glossy sheen. His pupils were sharp and dilated, almost like a cat's, and were so thin it was somewhat hard to tell that he had pupils at all. His eyes were so strange. Almost inhuman.

That wasn't all. His clothing, which he had neglected to pay much thought to, was in shambles. He looked like he'd been attacked. What exactly had happened, before he came into existence? Nothing good, he imagined.

The only part of him that seemed in good shape was cap that sat lopsided on his head. He took it off thoughtfully, and stared at the emblem sewed into the front. All it read was "L".

This frustrated him, if only slightly. Thousands of names started with the letter "L", how would he ever figure out which one was his?

Staring at the one fact he knew about himself, he finally decided that his name was just "L". Whatever it used to stand for didn't matter anymore. That person was gone, and their past no longer mattered to him.

With that, L kicked open the fancy door.