John Sheppard stumbles through the forest, hungry and alone. His friends have abandoned him, his survival is in his own hands now. He freezes suddenly. He turns his head sharply to the right. Screaming? That was definitely screaming. He sprints toward the sound, pointy green bushes scratch and claw at him as he runs past. The terrified yelling gets louder and louder until he finally breaks through the foliage into an open field. Sheppard drops to his knees. His eyes glow, expressing a state of bewildered awe. Standing before him is the most perfect human specimen he has ever seen. A man, dressed in a loose white shirt, smiles back at him. "Greetings stranger," he says, "my name is Howie Brendan."