Out of TimeMature

In a city where the cops are cooked, in a time when you live by your wits, in a hour that is desperate and a minute that could be your last-welcome to Archangel City. It wasn't always like this. We used to have order and a good system. Things fell apart when the bridge over Lyle's Canyon was blown up. Then they came in. Like rats fleeing from a sinking ship. They city is run by the various criminals that the law fails to keep locked up. Weird things are happening all the time, people disappear. Shrieks in the night, dead end trails, no leads. People keep their mouths shut. Now the syndicates have the precincts under their thumb. It's scary to know there's no one to call in this city. No one to save you. No one but me.

Who am I?

I'm one man against it all. One man who stands between injustice and the innocence. One man, one man out of time. They call me Tracker, I don't use a name. I don't carry any identification. I don't exist. When the time comes to wrap up a case I blend into the shadow and go out with the lights.

By day I read the papers, all of them. There's messages hidden some for me, some for them. Theres no television, hoodlums' burnt the station down. They city doesn't have the budget to rebuild. That was years ago, no one remembers. Mrs. Callahan keeps cats. I hear them on the other side of the wall. The apartment's walls are thin. They warp because the rain drips through the walls. The pipes leak. I can smell the mold that grows in the walls. I listen to the couple next door. They fight every night. Her name is Claire. I've seen her at the market, she's never seen me. His name is Roy. He's a big-shot downtown boy. But I know what he really does. His racket is the Crave. A wild drug. Two parts. Turns kids into creatures. They lurk the streets, does something to their eyes. Sometimes his business associate come calling. They want their stake in advance. He doesn't have it so he beats her. I've got no part stepping in. There are bigger things out there. Bigger fish. 

Outside the streetlights come on. Its time. I take my belt, a .45 hangs off it. I check the clip. 7 rounds. I pull on my trench and knot my tie. I place my hat low on my head.

It's time to go to work. The night is restless.

But I don't know that I'm already out of time.

The End

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