I've been renting out my body. Not like you’re thinking—well, not exactly like you’re thinking. Big spenders can remotely control me for 12 hours; as part of the deal, I’m left with zero memory of what my body has been up to. Anything that doesn’t leave my body damaged is allowed—be it sexual, mercenary, flirting, stealing, fighting, hunting. But lately flashes have been bleeding through to my daydreams: Shootings. Break-ins. Chases. A mysterious lab where people—or creatures?—are being imprisoned, experimented on, forming a plan. I don't think I should be part of this anymore…but I desperately need the money.