Hello Readers. This is another re-edited chapter for the Prologue. It's more realistic than the last one, and is one of my favorite ones so far. Thank you to the Beta reader/Editor who did this.
Also, the Form to send an OC for this story is now on my profile. If you want to send one, look at the instructions there.
Prologue
Introduction
Along the desolate city street veiled by darkness, illuminated only by the sickly orange glow of sparsely spaced streetlights, someone was running. The figure sprinted along the lonely road at a fretful pace, pushing himself to run faster and faster with every step he took. Veering to turn down a narrow, darkened alleyway, he caught the glint of metal rapidly approaching.
Pushing himself harder he swung his arms skyward, soaring across the chain-link fence that barred his way. Kicking up a cloud of dust as he landed, he pressed forward out of the alley, losing none of his momentum. As he reached the main road, deserted as all the rest, he skidded to a halt at the edge of the sidewalk.
He could see his destination waiting further along the street. A diner, lit barely brighter than the street itself, stood ready to receive him. Between him and his target, a single traffic light hung forlornly above the intersection, its green light shining like a beacon in the gloom of the city night.
He felt like it was taunting him, daring him to go faster. Bet you can't get there before I turn red, he imagined it saying. He smirked, raising his foot and shaking it with anticipation. The green vanished, and amber light appeared above it.
Launching into a sprint, he felt the cool night air rush past him, spurning him on to push further and faster. A parked car stood between him and the diner, but his confidence did not diminish; he knew it wouldn't even slow him down. Forcing power into his legs, he thrust himself skyward, diving over the stationary vehicle with plenty of air between them.
Landing with a forwards roll, he leapt to his feet, seizing the handle of the diner door. Turning back to look at the intersection, he could see the lonely traffic light watching him.
It was still yellow.
As he watched it turn red, he smirked to himself. Try harder next time, light. I'm just too good.
He pushed open the door, letting the warm air of the diner wash over him. Doris' place wasn't exactly the most classy joint in town; between the drab browns and yellows decorating the walls, the badly torn seats, and the dreary hum of the bug zapper, it looked like a good place to curl up and die. But for Johnny, it was a home away from home. One of the few places in the city he felt like he belonged.
He approached the counter, where a heavy-set woman focused on wiping some sort of stain away. She looked like she was smuggling throw pillows under her faded floral dress, and her tanned skin contrasted with her light blonde hair. Layers of clashing make-up caked her withering skin, and a single droopy cigarette limply hung from her crimson lips, dropping ash on the places she had just cleaned.
"Hey Doris," said Johnny, taking a seat on one of the high stools by the bar. Doris looked up, a fierce look on her face, which softened when she saw the fourteen-year old smiling across the counter at her.
"Oh hey, Johnny," she croaked through smoke-stained lungs, "I see you've been jumping around the city like some kind of madman again. You know one of these days you're going to get yourself killed."
"Come on, Doris," he said, flashing her a cheeky grin, "the risk of getting hurt is part of what makes it so exciting." She rolled her eyes at him. "And for the last time," he continued, "it's called Parkour, or free running. 'Jumping around,' tsk! What do you take me for?"
"Whatever you say," she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand, "what can I get you, anyways? We got steak, we got chicken, hmm, I think we probably got some salad around here somewhere."
"I'll just have a burger," he said. She smirked at him.
"You wanna watch your figure there, sonny," she said. He looked down at his body; underneath the sleeveless blue t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his body was lean and athletic. He could afford to stuff his face every now and again.
"You know," said Doris as she turned to her grease-stained grill, "it's not too late for you to go to the shelter. Streets aren't safe for a kid like you. I know, I know, you think you're Mister Flash cause you're so quick on your feet, but if you keep staying out 'til all hours, you're gonna get hurt."
"No way, D," said Johnny, "I've run since I was seven years old. I'll keep going for as long as I have to."
"Don't I know it," said Doris, slapping his burger on a sad looking bun and handing it to him, "I don't think anything could slow you down."
He took an enormous bite of the greasy burger, laughing on the inside. Doris was a surly old cow to most people, but he could honestly call her a friend. In the cold, lonely nights on the street, friends were hard to come by.
"Hey Doris," said Johnny through a mouthful of burger, "you remember that time your car nearly got jacked? What would you have done if I had gone to the shelter that night?" The large woman gave him a disapproving glare.
"Oh, I remember," she said, "trust me, you don't forget a night like that. So surreal it was, one minute some punk is trying to steal my car, the next: BAM! A thirteen year old hot-shot lands right on top of him. What a sight that was!"
Johnny nodded, wistfully recalling the night in question. He had tried to make a leap from one rooftop to the next, but he had misjudged the distance. As he fell, he thought he would be done for, until his fall got broken by some carjacker. After he and Doris had chased the guy off, he remembered wondering if God wasn't on his side, saving his fall so he could save another.
That fall had in turn led him to Doris, who supplied him with free food every night. His luck seemed endless; he really did feel like someone had his back.
Feeling full and satisfied, Johnny walked along the empty city streets. In a corner of the city barely lit, to the point it seemed the darkness itself threatened to swallow it, there stood his home.
Well, home was what Johnny called it. An abandoned warehouse, hardly standing under its own weight, rose before him. In the light of the day he could have seen its ugly façade; all rusted metal and smashed windows, graffiti and garbage strewn about the place. But the darkness lent it a kind of serenity, a hidden beauty; he could pretend the darkened shape was a palace waiting for its king.
Creeping through a hole in the side of the building, he felt his way along rusted railings and crumbling staircases to the second floor. He didn't need to be able to see, he had taken this route many times before. Fumbling his way into an empty foreman's office, he slumped down onto the worn-out old mattress he called a bed. The springs were barely restrained by the fabric, and dug into his back, but he was thankful that he had new sheets, courtesy of Doris.
As Johnny lay staring up at the ceiling, a twinkle of light caught his eye. Through a hole in the roof he could see starlight, brightened into sharp relief by the total darkness around him. Watching them shine serenely, his thoughts began to drift off.
He had never met his parents. For fourteen years there had been this hole in his life, like the stars above him they seemed distant and remote. He didn't know anything about them; who they were, what they looked like, and most importantly of all, why they left him all alone. Did they not want him, or was it something more complicated?
Unsatisfied with his self-interrogation, he turned to his side, drifting off to sleep with one thought rattling in his mind.
I'll never reach the stars, just like I'll never reach my parents.
The cool morning light lent the city a lazy serenity. The busy morning commute of frustrated drivers billowing fumes across the streets proved no obstacle for Johnny. Sliding across car hoods with an excited yelp, ignoring the screams of angrily hammered horns behind him he sauntered over to Doris' place.
Even in the soft light of the morning the place looked dismal and uninviting; it hadn't quite turned nine, and the blinds were still down. But Johnny knew Doris would unlock the door early, so he could get breakfast before any of her regulars showed up. Smiling to himself, Johnny pushed open the door.
"Yo, Doris. How do you feel about making me… some…" He nearly choked on the gasp of breath that escaped his throat.
Across the back wall, behind the counter, a splash of crimson streaked along the faded yellow paint, running down and dripping across the grill. In front of the counter, a tall man wearing a black hood stood with arm outstretched, a pistol in his hand still fuming with smoke. Reaching into the till and stuffing his pockets full of cash, he muttered to himself.
"Dumb bitch," he said in a gruff tone, "all she had to do was give me the money, and I wouldn't have had to shoot her. Now I gotta waste my time cleaning up this mess."
Johnny froze. He tried to move his legs, but fear infected every muscle, paralysing him. All he could do was tremble violently in a desperate attempt to move. His heart leapt into his mouth when the man turned to face him, his face hidden by the dark.
"Shit, kid," he said, "you picked a bad time to show your face here." He nodded to something just on the edge of his vision. "Take him out."
A shadow fell across him, and Johnny turned to see another hooded thief standing over him, his arm raised in readiness to attack. Johnny felt something hard impact the top of his head, and he fell, seeing the dirty floor rushing up to greet him. Before his face met it, his vision turned white, before fading into darkness.
Johnny opened his eyes, but only saw darkness. His head pounded like a jack hammer, and he tried to sit up, banging his head against something. He could feel he was in an enclosed space, the closeness of the musty air suffocated him. From the shaking and bouncing movement which rocked him from side to side, and the low hum of an engine, he figured he might be in the trunk of a car.
Rubbing his head and gritting his teeth from the pain, he tried to recall what on earth had happened to him.
That thug got me good, he thought, anger festering inside him, I'll make him pay for what he did to Doris.
The jerky movements came to a stop, and he heard the engine cut out. Listening carefully, he picked up the sounds of the car door opening and closing, then footsteps growing closer and closer.
The lid of the trunk flew open, dazzling him with bright sunlight. A silhouette of a man loomed over him, reaching for him with threatening hands. Johnny tried to struggle against his captor, but the man's strength proved too much for him. He got lifted on to the guy's shoulder and carried away from the car.
Looking around him, Johnny could see they were on a bridge by the docks. The industrial units were the abandoned sort he would usually hang out, and between them and the skyscrapers rising on the horizon, open scrubland stretched out as far as the eye could see. There didn't seem to be any other people in sight.
"You had to walk in at that moment, didn't you, kid?" said the kidnapper, "Now I gotta take care of you, 'no witnesses' sort of thing. Least you're lighter than that fat bitch back there, I don't envy the other guy trying to dispose of her fat ass."
Johnny's heart sunk; they were just going to dump Doris somewhere like garbage. Looking over his shoulder and towards the edge of the bridge, he realized what the man had in store for him.
He's going to throw me off the fucking bridge!
Realizing his chance was slipping away, he gritted his teeth, letting his anger flow through him. He arched up his body and drove his elbow into the guy's head. His attacker yelped in pain, momentarily loosening his strong grip. Johnny squirmed, using his natural flexibility to slip from his grasp.
Immediately he began to sprint along the bridge, laughing out loud as the wind caught his hair. There's no way this guy will catch me.
A loud crack pierced the stillness of the morning, and seconds later agony ripped through Johnny's left calf. He screamed in pain, his legs caving beneath him, and he landed forcefully on his front, skidding along the dusty road.
As he lay moaning in agony, blood seeping out of his wound and dripping down his lower leg, the black-hooded man appeared standing over him.
"You couldn't just stay unconscious, could you?" he growled, hoisting Johnny to his feet by his underarm, "That would've made things so much easier for both of us. Screw it, I hope you enjoy drowning, you little shit."
His assailant took him under his arm, holding him horizontally and walking back along the bridge. Johnny thrashed against him to no avail; he could feel his strength failing.
"No, No!" he pleaded, but the hooded man ignored him, continuing to march. As they reached the edge of the bridge, Johnny felt another hand seize him, and he lifted above the guy's head with both hands.
"Later, dickhead!"
With a hard toss the man sent Johnny soaring over the railings. As he hit the water with a loud splash, the cold wetness washed over him. He tried to right himself, to swim, but he had lost most of his strength from the gunshot wound, and his leg burned in agony. The surface slowly crept away from him, the sunlight fading as he sank into the murky depths of the river.
He never thought he would die like this; he never thought about death at all, if he could help it. Now he was sinking into darkness because of some petty thief. He would never see Doris again, never run through the streets without a care in the world. He had lost his chance to ever discover anything about his parents, and regret overtook him. No one could help him, he felt truly alone.
Resigning himself to his fate as water began to enter his lungs, he closed his eyes, letting the stillness of death completely swallow him. Everything became still; he could no longer feel the cold water on his skin or the burning pain in his leg. There was only nothingness.
After floating in the empty void for what seemed like an eternity, a voice called to him from all around him, an ethereal voice that seemed to exist and not exist simultaneously; whispering in ears that could no longer hear and a mind completely still.
"It is not yet time for the great sleep, young one," said the voice, "Not for you. You have so much left to do, and to truly live your life. Think of this not as the end, but instead as a new beginning… a beginning that will give you the answers you've sought for so long."
TO BE CONTINUED...