Tokyo

Bill's mouth felt like it was filled with used kitty litter and his head ached sickeningly. Waking up to find himself lying on a bed in a dark room, he reached out blindly and banged his left hand against the wall.

"Ow! Shit!"

His little finger throbbed painfully and, when he gingerly moved it, seemed to be heavily bandaged.

Bill was trying to figure where he was, when his memory kicked in. He remembered the two Yakuza forcing their way into the taxi and driving into a garage in a back street, where he was hustled into another car with tinted windows and blindfolded.