While about to get into his limousine, a man is shot dead in cold blood.
His bodyguards, impotent, do not catch the murderer. The murderer,
visibly satisfied, joins a woman in bed. When he goes home, strange
odours made of blood, sperm, and the polluted air that hangs over the
city float in the atmosphere. It materialises into a shapeless and
grotesque magma: Prosopopus is born, a modern monster with an implacable
purpose. All those who cross his path beware.