A/N: So here's another idea I've had for QUITE a while. It's a bit risky so don't kill me for the future twists…

I don't own anything…

Prologue

It was quite late into the evening, and the street lights had already replaced the sun. London was still as full of life as ever, although a particular passerby paid no attention to any of the noises around him. He walked along the streets without any evident purpose, buried deep into his thoughts.

The man seemed to be in his mid to late thirties, his blue eyes looking around without focusing on anything in particular, his blond hair catching the beams from every street light he passed.

He didn't know how to feel. He was back here in this city, after years of being so far away from this life. His old life. He wasn't quite sure he felt nostalgic though, as he was happy with the life he had now, with the people he grew attached to and who cared about him, even though sometimes it was really hard for him to live the way he did now.

He stopped near one house and stared at the front door. The windows were dark, as it was now quite late into the night. This house held so many memories. His childhood, those first years in this world. He had lived there up till he went to university, but place had remained to be his idea of "home" for years. He wondered who lived here now. Would this very same house become someone else's home? Would someone else come back to it years later, remembering their own childhood? He sighed, smirking a bit to himself. Normally he wasn't so sentimental but today seemed like a special day for some reason.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that didn't notice someone approaching him from behind. There suddenly was a sensation of something poking into his back. Something that felt suspiciously like a barrel of a gun.

"Good evening, agent Dunn," a quiet but menacing voice hissed into his ear.

He took a deep breath, trying to get his worry under control. There were two ways he could go: trying to get away or face whatever it was. Before that, however, he needed to find out something…

"How do you know my name?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"From now on it's not you who will be asking questions," was the reply.

He took another deep breath. This time he was steadying himself for an attack. Without wasting a second, he turned around so sharply that the attacker didn't have the opportunity to pull the trigger, grabbing the man's wrists and twisting them, making the gun fall down onto the asphalt, and threw the attacker to join it. He leaned down to pick up the gun but right at that moment another shape appeared in his peripheral view. He turned to face the new threat but didn't have the time to react to a sudden noise from behind as a heavy blow was delivered to the back of his head and he knew no more, darkness swallowing him before he even hit the ground.