12 Hours (A Dɴғ Fᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ)

Chapter 4- Favor

  Chapter 4: Favor
- George' POV -

"Ahh, so I see you've found my posters."
//

Whirling around in surprise, I reached for the small dagger I had taken off the poster and flung it towards the voice with instinctive speed. It managed to strike them ever so slightly before the stranger hit it away with their sword, sending the dagger stabbing into the dirt. Shit! I instantly reached for my own sword, ready to unsheath it when I realized.. it wasn't there.

"Looking for this?"

I snapped my attention back to the stranger, noticing his face was heavily hooded and they were clutching their side as though they were wounded. My sword however was thankfully given back when the stranger threw it back to me, hilt first. "You stole it just to give it back?" I asked confusedly, slipping it back into its holster but still hovering my fingers over it in case I needed to fight. A habit I picked up not so recently.

"Well, you would've cut me in pieces before I could say anything if I didn't." The figure shrugged and my thoughts slowly began to confirm it. This voice.. I've heard it before and the only person I've come in contact with is-

"Dream?"

"The one and only." Dream replied smugly, saluting with two fingers as he pulled his hood back a bit to reveal the familiar mask. I furrowed my brows. "What do you mean by my posters? Who are you- in fact what did you do? We've met for a single day and I already learn you're some type of criminal? I-I don't want to get involved with you if you're some sort of fugitive or something Dream-"

"I can't tell you everything if you keep bombarding me with questions." Dream groaned as he pulled his hood back up. My eyes caught onto the hint of struggle in Dream's movements and the way he clutched his side. He's injured. And yet he could still dodge my attack?

"Then why are you here?" I shifted nervously, glancing warily at him. Dream shifted in his place as well, this time putting his sword away. "I need a favor.."

"A favor- What?" "You know.. a favor." He shrugged again. "And what do I get out of this favor exactly?" I raised a brow, crossing my arms against my chest. In the end fate brought us together again pretty soon. Too soon to match my preferences.

"Me not killing you, let's go."

"Sounds more like a threat but whatever I guess." I mumbled, following after him cautiously as we entered an alleyway and climbed down another one of the sewer grates. Does this guy live in the sewers or something?

"So what happened to you exactly?" I questioned after a while of silence, trailing after Dream as we walked through. "I got caught in a large cross fire. Fuckers got a hit on my side." He replied, shortly. "And you need me to stitch you up.. how coincidental." I concluded, linking everything together. Don't get me wrong, I had a bit of experience in the healing department, but I still wasn't sure if I should help Dream. Whether he was a Daredevil or not was still a foggy statistic for me and now learning that the same man I'm following is plastered on a wanted poster with "dead or alive" written in red over his head didn't really help the case.

"Bingo."

//

The two of us eventually stopped at an old worn-out cabin, just two hours before the Daredevils are given their "rightful" time, and bordered everything up for safety. We cut out all lights and torches and drew down ripped curtains to block out any unwanted "visitors".

"Are you sure this is safe? It looks pretty naked to the eye." I asked nervously, helping Dream move over a table . "I'm sure." He replied confidently and I watched as he drew back the moldy beige carpet and detached two of the floor boards. My eyes slowly widened as under the boards revealed a hatch and a set of ladders leading down. Unexpected.

"Ladies first." Dream motioned smugly, snickering when I scowled and glared at him. The ladder lead down to a room -almost like a panic room- containing a ragged bed in the far corner, a few set of bags sprawled around on the floor, a chipped work table with a single chair, and some other junk that I was too intranced to notice.

What I did notice though was the variety of weapons sprawled out on the table, eyes widening more as I examined each and every one of them. Knives, swords, crowbars, bats, crossbows, brass knuckles, spears, you name it. Ink and a patch of clay also sat on a part of the table and I noticed some clay figurines perched up on a hand made shelf. Literally a hand made shelf, two knives sat plunged into the wall to act like a general base and a single wooden plank sat like a foundation on it for the figurines giving them a platform to sit up on.

I raised a brow Dream's way making him shrug, silently saying 'I was bored'. I instantly noticed another painful struggle in his movements though and ordered him to sit down, finally deciding I should help him out. "Do you have any bandages? I also need a needle and thread, some water and a pan would be helpful too." I walked around, grabbing whatever Dream guided me to. When I gathered everything I needed, I walked towards the injured boy and took a seat on the ground next to him.

"Take off your shirt."

"Ooo lalaa, kinky~" Dream teased making me scowl and pull up my scarf, hoping to hide the little blush of embarrassment unwillingly playing on my cheeks as I huffed. "You're an idiot."

"So, what's your name stranger?" Dream asked, trying to start up a conversation. Or was this an attempt of small talk..? "You seem in awfully good mood for someone whose injured, what changed?" I asked instead, avoiding sharing any formalities just yet. "The weather's nice today." The masked man shrugged, fully stripping his leather coat and shirt to reveal a deep gash trailing down his side. He made it seem much smaller than it actually was however and my eyes were on the verge of popping. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Were you butchered or something?!" I shrieked, observing the wound with pure concern.

"I mean, I haven't bled to death yet so I'm sure it'll be fine." The nonchalance was clear in Dream's voice and I began to wonder just how much trust this guy had in me. I could treat wounds, yes, but this was like a cut through paper. How he survived was a just as a mystery to me as what Dream looked like under his mask.

"You're an idiot." I shook my head.

"So you've mentioned."