Scan this cutter...

You've got a skull-cracking headache. You're hung-over. You need a glass of water. You beg for death from every spinning wall in the room. A scream tears through the slumped hallway outside your open door. Sometimes wishes come true.

This is the Hive. A murderer lurks in the depths of the most crowded and depraved ghetto in all of the planes of existence.

Even the local powder pushers and toughs, arguably the most jaded seen-it-all-bottom-to-top types in the multiverse are getting peery to the fact that something ain't right. Murder ain't fresh to the Hive, but the way the Factions are acting you'd think the berk doing the deed invented the cut throat.

Sigil smolders with unrest, and when she burns... so does the multiverse.