Sleepwalk!

A cooling corpse lies upon a pool of beautiful crimson. Fifty-six stabs defile the body. Blood trickles down, splash by splash, flowing freely into the sewage. The dim moonlight shines upon the body as dawn threatens to break. A single figure stands above the corpse. His fingers clench the handle of a bloodied kitchen knife tightly.

This is Alister Moore. He stands there, quivering in his boots. Just a split second ago, he'd been drinking, pissing, cursing; the activities of a regular laid-off salaryman. A single thought fills his mind.

What the fuck just happened?