The Clock of Daniel Washer Prologue

The City of Sectors: The Clock of Daniel Washer

Summary:

The year is 2048. In an experimental city known as Absolon, crime runs rampant from drugs, money, and super powered beings called “Endowed”. To keep them in line a special program called “Endowed Special Forces” or ESF for short, was created. Blake Hunter, a young orphan whose known nothing but a rough life is given a harsh reminder of the dangers that lurk within the city when his orphanage is blown to pieces one rainy night. His quest for answers and revenge lead him to the most notorious ESF crew, The Blanks, who take him in as one of their own. Join Blake and many others for a ride of love, action, adventure, loss, lessons, and most of all, friendship.

Prologue

November 26th 2048, Monday

9:30 pm

Unknown Sector, Old Apartment Building

The city of Absolon was a beautiful place at night, depending on where you looked. Absolon was like an apple rotting from the outside, slowly decaying towards the core. You didn't find music, laughter, or happiness on the outer sectors of Absolon; fat chance of that. Just walking within sniffing distance gave you the intense oder of blood, sweat, piss, and tears if you could last that long. Though there was some sort of strange beauty in the slow rotting of once plentiful cultural neighborhoods. Down one street you'd see a Japanese Sukiya-zukuri traditional house turned into nothing more than a jungle gym of moldy wood and moss covered angels weeping in forgotten silence. If you took the wrong turn you you'd see an old Italian Venetian, it's once sun kissed walls dried up into a sunken brown you'd see in only the slimiest of mud. Thanks to one man this sluggish destruction was possible, though John McKonners now lay in a pool of his own blood, his old wrinkling face a mask of surprise and fear as it stared limply down his own spine. His dead body lay on the greenish boards of a junky motel floor, the surrounding walls and furniture having about as much taste and flavor as cardboard, and with the style equivalent to a janitors closet. A lone man stood on the declining balcony, the moth bitten curtains of the window beside him silently riding the nighttime breeze like a ghostly cape. His cheap suit was decorated with splats and slashes of John's blood, a speck had even wandered onto his weathered face, which was looking off into the bleak horizon of the outer sectors. Below him a scuffle was ensuing, a small turf war most likely. Small time gangs trying to make a name for themselves, it was a shame no one ever told them what was waiting at the top. He didn't flinch when he heard the crunch of metal against bone, or the scream of pain muffled and silenced by another whack of metal. He let out a puff of smoke, watching it rise into the air like the slow poison it was. He dropped the cigarette, watching it fall onto the body of a mutilated kid, no older than twelve. Crimson filled the cracks in the pavement, reminding the man that he hadn't had his driveway re-paved in months.

"So you killed him?" a feminine voice asked, neither upset or happy. He turned around. The woman in red was always a hell of a sight. Even more so in the outer sectors where her wardrobe was worth more than the next three blocks.

He shrugged, "Just like you asked"

Her sparkling red shoes clacked against the floorboards pausing when they passed through blood. She studied the body of John with glittering black eye's, her red lipstick smile caused by sexual pleasure or the euphoric sight of blood he couldn't tell. He'd always thought of her as a crazy beautiful nut but, telling her that would mean an appallingly slow death filled with screams of the victim and laughter of the sparkling red psychopath. She bent down slowly, dipping a slender, pale finger in the sea of red before raising it to her lips, licking the mess off with a sigh of contentment. The man lit another cigarette, turning back to the balcony

"You did a wonderful job" she spoke softly behind him, almost whispering. He felt her gloved hands on his broad shoulders and couldn't help but feel dread wash down the places her fingers touched. He knew his time was up, the woman in red was proof of that.

"Yeah, I know" he acknowledged, fishing around in his suit jacket before pulling out a golden locket, his scarred hands stopped, the locket dangling from his fist.

"Im sorry, Nine" the woman whispered, the knife sliding out of his back with a sickening sucking sound. He said not a word as he fell to the floor, his dull deep-set eyes revealing nothing. She opened the locket, using it's small mirror to adjust her perfect black hair and inspect her flawless make up. A picture of the man and a woman were next to it, the two smiled happily up at the woman in red. She got up, her clacking heels ringing in Nine's ears. The woman flicked a switch to a device sitting on the tasteless bed, gently setting the scarlet stained knife next to it. She gave Nine a red lip-stick smile before leaving the room, he did not return it. He flipped over onto his back, a clear view of the night sky awaited him. The night was full of stars and an almost full moon, he swore he could almost hear the music and laughter from the upper sectors. He smiled up at the sky, though the smile didn't look natural on his face, like it was the first time he'd done it since the picture In the locket.

“Cheers, John” he rumbled, his head settling towards John's body, his vision fading.

The woman exited the hotel, the yellow flickering light of the sign reflected off her pale skin. The woman in red entered a black bentley, the car rolled almost silently out of the lot. Only a few moments after the car drove off, the hotel exploded into a fiery inferno of orange and red. This is what happened whenever the woman in red arrived. Whether it be a junky motel, some washed up bar, or even an orphanage, she always left the place up in flames.