Harry, the man who eats cats, is more than what he seems. Though society regards him as the worst sort of petty villain, out for free dinner and sick thrills, Harry sees himself as a woefully misunderstood individual, marginalized in an increasingly pet-allergy-hostile world and eager to discover possible superpowers.

It all began as most things don't: with a three-day trip to the ER spent recovering in an oxygen bubble. He was three and remembers getting a sticker for being a patient. Before that, he was blue, literally, found on the 2nd floor of his parents' friends' condo, barely breathing, two Persian cats tiptoeing around him, eating hairballs.

Harry was allergic, but not in the way most folks think of allergies. "Will Sudafed work?" was always a well intended but horribly obnoxious question, assuming he hadn't tried allergy shots, much less OTC meds, to battle his anaphylaxis.

He had tried everything else. If you can't beat them... eat them?