It's been a few years since the Rupture. Something happened and it was like a seam in reality split, spilling fairies, dragons, elves, and a number of other things into the world. Some people changed, and some people are still changing.
Magic was like any other science. Though the old and set in their ways folk remember a time without magic, most people think of it as a given in daily life even if they can't sort out how to use it. Another weapon, another thing on the shelves, mass-produced and sold to the world through the megacorporations that owned everything else. The police, the land that hadn't been reclaimed by people that remembered the old ways enough to take advantage of strange technologies that hadn't fully been accepted.
The crime rate is high, income is low, and food generally comes in preprocessed bars that taste faintly of plastic and wax. Los Angeles is still technically American corporate soil, but the military bases there are owned by the allied corporations of Japan. The police on the street wear the emblem of the Gokumon Zaibatsu, and they keep the peace better than most American police companies.
And that is where you come in. Strange things have happened near you. Things moved by unseen hands, perhaps an unusually long melt time on the ice in your favorite drink or more static shocks when shaking hands or opening doors. But now that magic's back in the world and the neighborhood coffeehouse is run by a troll and his elvish husband, this kind of thing seems almost normal.