12 Hours (A Dɴғ Fᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ)

Chapter 1- Daredevils

Chapter 1: Daredevils
- George's POV -

My feet kept urging me to move.

Pushing me till my last ragged breath as my feet ached and begged me to take a break, to stop. But that was a death wish in itself. Being outside, no mask, and so vulnerable was like welcomingly opening my arms for death. It was stupid, I know that, but I was not stupid enough to stay as -what they went by 'Daredevils'- ravaged my hideout, my home, looking for their next victim.

I was safe until now, suddenly out in the open and a mouse amongst many lions who clearly had the upper and unfair advantage. I had to lose them, find safe shelter, and replace the scarf I used in order to hide most of my face from being recognized.

Sweat dripped down my forehead, heavy pants slipping my lips as I continued to run.

I don't want to die. I can't. I have to survive, I have to hide but where?

A shiver ran down my spine as a series of loud cackling echoed through the air, sounding scarily closer but I refused to look back and confirm or reject that possibility. Keeping my focus soley on steadying my feet and refraining from passing out, I tried to think. I had two options:

one, hide out in one of the abandoned buildings

Or

two, risk being forced out into the open and becoming an easy catch

Both of my options had their downsides but hiding out seemed to be in my best interest as the rushing footsteps and maniac-al laughs grew closer. My legs seemed to agree too with the idea of hiding as I was now running behind the back alley of a set of houses and pushing through one of the backdoors connected to one of the abandoned house.

I instantly ran up the stairs, scoping the ceiling for a latch that could hopefully lead me into an attic. And to my greatest relief, there was.

My heart dropped when the familiar cackles and shouts flooded into the home, searching every inch of he house as they called out to him tauntingly.

"Come out here, little mouse~" A hyena laugh zipped through the air scarily close, sending cold shivers down my back as I carefully shut the trapdoor and bit my lip. The laugh so familiar to my ears yet at the same time not. I peaked in between the wooden floorboards, watching as different masked young men and women moved beneath me, holding all types of weapons.

Baseball bats, axes, metal pipes, swords, you name it. Whatever weapon you could get your hands on in these types of situations would be your one best friend and your only chance of survival. I was lucky enough to get my hands on a weapon of my own, a sword, glistening iron forged into a sharp end and that connected with a leather clutch that provided a better grip. But the sword itself came with a story of bloodshed that I refused to relive.

I clasped my hands over my mouth, silencing a shriek that almost gave me away when rapid thuds vibrated from below. Like someone was consistently banging the end of a stick against the floor boards.

I could feel my tears threatening to spill as I clenched my jaw and shook my head to rid myself of them. But I kept my ears sharp. I could hear their footsteps slowly retreating as their voices grew fainter. And I relaxed. Maybe it was too soon to let my guard down but I was just glad they were away. Letting out a relieved sigh as I slumped back on the dusty boards, staring up straight at the triangle shaped roof held by only some old beams and rusty nails. I had to move if I was able to get such a lucky pass. If you could call it that.

Sighing, I grabbed for my sword, clasping my fingers around it and standing up. My sword.. this is not my sword. My sword was never this light, nor was it thin and reeking of pure death..

Paling at the sudden realization that in reality no sword could logically be this light, I dropped it, letting the bone clatter to the ground. A struggled urge to vomit slipped my lips as I clasped a hand over my mouth, trying not to scream and wrench. I touched a human bone.

I moved my gaze to the dead figure daringly, nothing but the remains of a skeleton in ragged clothes laying limp against the wall. An axe was held to its side, skeleton fingers still wrapped around the weapon in a tight grip. I didn't even dare to deny it. To say it was fake. That maybe I was hallucinating due to lack of sleep. This is my life, and I had to come to terms with it.

//

I was back in the open, now however instead using back alleys to maneuver my way around the corrupt city. It really was a corrupt place and I felt pity for the people who had to have their lives taken away or to live in fear of knowing their life can end any minute. People like me. Survivors who had to survive 12 hours of everyday with the risk of being dragged out onto the street and murdered brutally, hanging on their backs.

Discarding the thought, I continued my journey through the alleyways, peering round every corner cautiously and moving when the coast was clear. I was tired, drained, and I knew I needed food and water soon or I'd starve to death. Luckily for ne -note the sarcasm- all my supplies and belongings were back at my base and most likely within the lucky hands of whoever was able to grab them after the raid.

I could always get supplies later, but I still had a long way to go until I am fully in the clear. Until we all are.

"If I can even survive that long." I grit to myself, suddenly hearing the hyena laughter, I was yet to grow used to, erupt from far behind me. They were back, and I'll be a goner if I don't act quickly. I had to escape.

Picking up my pace, an arm suddenly reached out of the darkness, snatching me aside and tightly clasping a hand over my mouth. A short lived groan left me when my back slammed against a brick wall, eyes widening in horror as I tried to get out, merely staring at the mask of one of them. The 'Daredevils'.