A/N: So, this is just an excerpt of a story I'm working on. Any feedback would be welcome on it seeing as how it is still a work in progress. First is the summary, then the basic prologue.

Criticism is accepted, and everything here is my own work so, NO STEALING. Have fun reading ^^


A single mission to find his missing daughter has turned his life upside down. From death to rebirth, Jonathan 'Jack' Daniels has to put the pieces together and find out what has happened during his departure. What's more, the world is not how he remembered it.

A world ruled by riots and wars, thrown into the deepest depths of poverty and political failure, he must scavenge the towns and cities to find his missing girl.

However, his journey is not an easy one. Plagued by the depression of the world, and the ever repeating voice over the broken tannoy systems, Jack has to find out why exactly, he isn't dead and why more people then ever seem to be after him, wanting him dead once again.


Sounds fluttered through his ears. His brain managed to pick up the odd words here and there. Nothing helpful though. Craning his neck he tried to unblur the shapes and differentiate between the colours with no luck. The effort became too much and his head hung low again. The grass drifted past his feet with gentle speed.

A drop of wetness hit his cheek. The vague sound of thunder rumbling caught his ears. Jack wanted to groan, but the strain of his voice was too much of an effort against his bruised chest. Instead, he settled for closing his eyes and concentrating his efforts on his breathing.

Another splatter and he groaned on the inside. He wasn't a fan of the rain. Especially during the Autumn. Jack could never quite place the reason for the hatred of the weather, just that it was.

The smell of dirt entered his senses the moment he made impact with the ground. A grunt echoed from his chest as his hands curled into fists. Squinting through the light drizzle that had just started, he caught sight of the people around him.

His vision was clearer now, the sudden vibrancy of colours impacting on his senses. It was only for a moment until a kick to his stomach curled his body in on itself, to protect himself. Laughter filtered through his dull hearing, chanting and jeering bouncing around his skull.

His back straightened his body out with another kick, turning his body over onto his back. Jack just lay there, allowing the rain to hit his cheeks in cold pellets as his assailant stood over him, a malicious grin in place. Rough hands came down and dragged him to his weak feet, pushed him onto his knees and forced him to look up at the leader of the group.

Ralph Robinson.

He was a young man in his late twenties with short cropped brown hair and intense blue eyes that could make even grown men squirm underneath his gaze. Right now, Jack was audience to the evil grin that was bestowed upon his features.

The stories about that grin made Jack wish for the man to get a move on.

"Jonathan Daniels," he finally spoke, his voice laced with a certain glee. "You hurt me. You've hurt my people and you insult me."

Jack kept quiet, unable to find his voice since he was victim to a brutal arm colliding with his throat. He tried to keep his vision clear as Ralph stepped forward, a small thin sliver of mud curtaining the soles of his polished shoes.

The rain was heavier now, and Jack fought the fog that was coming and going in his mind. "Oh, Jonathan. What am I to do with you?" He paused, crouching in front of the other man with a fake contemplative look on his face. It was another moment before he clicked his fingers and feigned an idea. "I know," he clicked his fingers again and straightened up.

Bleary vision began to clear again and Jack froze from the sight. Struggling against the grip on her shoulders by the two burly men on either side of her, was his daughter. His seven year old daughter and they were holding her hostage for nothing.

"Max," he barely whispered out, his voice floating through the air on the cold winds.

Max looked up towards the voice and Jack almost fainted from shock. It was her. The blue and white patched school dress coloured with dust, dirt and other things he didn't want to think about, her hair greased from a lack of care he was sure.

But she was alive. "Daddy?" She whispered back.

The word almost gave him a heart attack. He'd waited three months to hear those words again. A nod was given back to her, and he watched as she struggled again, fighting against the living restraints to get back to her father.

A low chuckle filled the air with cold humour, "Aw, so cute." Ralph said as he stroked Max's hair with little compassion. "But, as I said before, Jack," Ralph stretched his name out, uttering it like it was some stupid schoolboy nickname. "You've hurt me." Nodding his head, Ralph continued, as if chiding a young child, "You, mister, have stuck a thorn in my side. And, frankly, I can't allow that. You see, it ruins this image people have of me."

Jack ignored the ranting, his green eyes pried to Maxine whose blue eyes were fixed on him, pleading silently for him to make it all go away.

His body tumbled forward as a hand swiped the back of his head. Peering through his bangs of tangled brown hair, Jack stared into the face of a disappointed Ralph. "You're not listening to me are you?"

"No," he replied, struggling to pull himself up and back onto the haunches of his knees.

A scream tore through the air, its owner was Max, eyes tearing up and Jack felt the reason why. The cold barrel of a gun pressed into his temple, biting at his water slicked skin. He'd lost all fight in his muscles, weak from the beatings and torture he had had to endure to get as far as he is now. In his heart, he vaguely told himself that he just wanted to make sure that Maxine Daniels, little Maxine Daniels was still alive.

She was.

He wasn't for much longer.

That much was evident from the day he set foot into the world of crime and unlawful justice that Ralph was the syndicate boss over.

For a moment he closed his eyes, imagining a different time, any time, a happy time. A hand gripped at his hair, yanking his head back slightly and jostling him out of the happy memory of when he, Max and his wife, Stephanie, were caught in the rain on a trip in the countryside.

Those set of intense blue eyes were in his face again, his face inches from his own, forcing Jack to look. "Take one last look Jonathan," he motioned to behind him, where Maxine stood, her bottom lip quivering and tracks of salty tears staining her cheeks. "One last, long look," Ralph taunted, stepping back to stand beside her.

At that moment, he suddenly found the fight back in his body, muscles screaming for him to move, to live. Getting his feet underneath him two sets of hands pushed down on his shoulders, forcing him back into the muddy ground.

Fleeting a final glance to his daughter, he felt his own set of tears break free of their barrier as the cold steel plated barrel found its place back to his skull. "Say bye-bye to Daddy Maxxy," the leader mocked, crouching down to the girls level.

A fresh set of tears streaked their way down her face, and Jack almost found a way out of this torture. Almost.

The last thing the father saw was the horrified expression fixed on his daughters face as his world turned black and all sense of feeling left his body.


A/N: So what do you think?