Nursing the stump of his right arm, the Operative staggered away from 
Tokyo Tower, having been spared a particularly nasty death by the sudden
attack on Kain by an artificial Jurai Energy Generator. When the energy
from that thing had struck Kain, he'd dropped the Operative and had gone
after whatever the source had been. But the Operative was wounded, so much
so that he didn't even think to put his mask on as he staggered down the
street. Fortunately, his long, luxuriant hair hung in a dark auburn curtain
around his face, hiding it from passerbies.
    Soon, however, the severity of his wound caught up with him and he
collapsed on the sidewalk, twitching for a moment before he finally lost
consciousness.
    A concerned man went to help him and soon discovered his secret. The
man stumbled back from the Operative in horror. "A rat!" He gasped.
    Several people milled around the rather unusual form lying there, a
couple suggested shooting it, others thought it should be sent to a lab.
    "Sell it to the freak show." One suggested. 
    Since that idea involved them getting money for the effort, they 
decided to go along with it.
    "No," a little boy told them, rushing to stand in front of the rodentine
form, like a knight guarding a damsel. "This is an alien being. We have to
heal him and send him home."
    "Stand aside, little boy." a stocky old man said, as he brushed the
child aside and picked up the Operative's twitching form.
    "NO!" The boy shouted as they carried the unconscious Operative off.
"You can't do that to him! You're all a bunch of meanies!!"
    No one paid him any attention.
 
    The boy went to the freak show with his mother that Saturday. By then,
the Operative was very sick. His wounds had been treated and there were
coarse stitches on his muzzle where Kain had torn it, but the treatment had
not been the best and it was infected. Fleas crawled around on his fur which
was matted, some areas on his body were bald, the fur having been scratched
away, his usually muscular, though not muscle-bound form was gangly from
malnutrition and his eyes were filled with pain and despair.
    The boy began to cry. "I'll help you." He told the Operative. "I
promise."
    The Operative smiled, very very slightly, and for a moment, a glint of
hope shone in his eyes, then it was gone again.