October 23, 2023
Fortuna
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A blunder, Daryll North thought as he looked on in panic at the sight of the fast approaching shadows on the ground. He was just gathering food from the abandoned buildings at the edge of the city, but when a giant rat had surprised him when it suddenly ran across the room, he leapt back as a reaction and bumped onto a table, causing a jar full of coins to break when it fell to the ground.
He clicks his tongue and runs towards the back entrance. He hurriedly left the mini-mart before those things could arrive and a few moments later, the place rumbles in activity. They're now actively searching for the source of the noise, him. Better to leave everything behind and move on than to be tracked down like prey, he thought.
From what he gathered before leaving, those things were Shadow People. Adherents of the thing that's been said to be lurking in the castle to the north-east. They spread wide and scout the nearby area during the day for any survivors like him, and although they can’t show their true forms while the sun is up, but when it sets and the veil of darkness assumes its place, they come out of their own shadows to start the hunt. Cruel, efficient, and the reason why the city’s so silent.
Daryll darted from alley to alley, ever so vigilant as to not cause another near brush with death for the day. One key element to surviving that he learned throughout the years is that if no one knew he existed, then nothing will come after him. No monster from god knows where will be his demise. Neither will it be from his own kind.
With his scavenging run a failure, he decided that he’ll just cool off in the meantime at one of his hideouts inside the city. A broom closet located at the third floor of a corporate building. Small as it might be, but it does its job of being inconspicuous to other people. He keeps some food and necessities inside his scattered hideouts and if some people were to drop by and see it, then by the next time that he comes back and needs sustenance or a gadget that he stored, he’ll have nothing left to use. Better to keep it all to himself than to starve in the middle of the night. Also, a rumbling stomach will kill you if you're unlucky enough in these shadow infested parts.
Taking a Mars chocolate bar out of one of his dozens of cargo pants pockets, he munches on it while he turns the hand crank flashlight for a minute. After doing so, he pulls out a small pink notebook and pencil. He then starts writing his daily entry on his journal. From the time that he woke up, the luck he had when finding an unopened Mars pack, albeit a few months past its expiration date, and his last scavenge run in the mini-mart until he had to flee and hide inside a broom closet. But before he finished writing, he doesn’t forget to put his initials, DN, at the bottom before ending it. This daily journal writing of his was something that he picked up from a person he met a year prior, telling him to do the same whenever the opportunity came. He didn’t know the importance of it, but he trusted the man and his advice.
He spent his time idling for a few hours after he finished preparing for the next day, but as he was about to fall asleep, a loud commotion from outside startled him awake. Something's about to happen, he thought. Something big. Something bad.
He stealthily went to the rooftop, cautious of any Shadows smart enough not to get drawn in by the noise.
As he makes it up there, a clearly visible orange light to the east side of the city a few dozen blocks away immediately catches his attention.
“COME ON AND TAKE A BITE! I’M ALL YOURS FOR TONIGHT, BABY! YAHAHA!”
A deafening shout, so loud and clear even from where he stood, causing him to stumble and fall on his back. And it was English. A language that he could understand.
After regaining his composure, his mind immediately thought that he should vacate the area immediately. What ever it is that person’s doing, it's pure suicide. And he might just be unfortunate enough to get dragged into the abyss along with the man.
He jumps down onto the fire escape on the side of the building and quickly makes his way down.
“Shit!” Daryll yelled.
Halfway down, another huge explosion occurred. It caused a small tremor, shaking the building for a whole second. That second of shaking caused him to miss his step and slip, resulting to him falling and hitting the side of his head hard on the side of the escape ladder.
“Ugh… not now…”
Dizzy and disoriented, he knew that he had a concussion judging from the increasingly painful headache and how his head pulsated. And every time that it did, he felt a wave of pain that was enough to knock him out each time. But he steeled on. Lying unconscious here would be like serving a prime-cut steak in front of a hungry wolf who hasn’t eaten for days.
“I just… somewhere… hide”
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He succesfully makes it below without falling, but his vision’s starting to become blurry. He’s a few moments there before passing out and the nearest hideout is still so far away. Too far to get there before he bumps into something in the middle of the night or losing consciousness.
“Need help, kiddo?”
A voice from behind sends chills down his spine. Even with labored breaths and shaking arms, he readies his kitchen knife strapped onto his waist and goes into a stance as he turns to look back. Daryll couldn’t make out the person’s face as all he could see were blurs with orange light, but judging from the high pitched voice, it sounded like a woman. That didn’t deter him, though. This was not the first time he had to fight another person, much less someone of the opposite sex.
“Feisty one, aren’tcha”
The figure slowly comes closer and Daryll is losing time and options. His instincts are telling him to flee, but any attempts would be futile. In a fight or flight scenario, usually, standing your ground and fighting in a corner is a last ditch effort before death. And as of the moment, he most certainly did not have the capacity to flee from his opponent. So, last ditch effort it is.
He lets his muscle memory do the work while enduring the pain, making a swift swing towards the neck of the opponent, albeit somewhat inaccurate because of his head trauma and disorientation, but the intent is clear that he’s going in for the kill.
“Hoh! I found a real biter tonight!”
The knife sliced through something. Although, from what he could hear from her complacent speech and the feel of the knife when it made contact, it seems it was just a slight tear on her attire.
Daryll follows up with more swings aiming for her vital areas, but most often than not, it only grazed the air and some sort of hard fabric. Leather, maybe?
He staggeringly took a few steps back while taking deep breaths. His momentary adrenaline rush is wearing out and he's in the cusp of succumbing to a sweet surrender. A slumber that he might not wake up from ever again.
His opponent didn’t rush to his weakened state, instead, she just stood there and waited. Waiting for what, exactly? He didn’t know.
Minutes pass by and he slowly lost his grip on the knife. Too injured and exhausted, he fell flat on the ground.
“What to do? What to do?”
Was the last he heard before everything went black.
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…
… down.
The King… priority.
…but…
…
“...!” Daryll awoke with a startle and immediately got up, but he bumped his head onto something, causing him to recoil back down again.
“Argh! Wha… what happened?” he muttered while rubbing his forehead.
He is currently lying inside a stock room underneath a table with a few rays of sunlight seeping through the boarded window. His headache is gone now and he felt refreshed and energized after waking up. No signs of any injuries on himself, either.
Last he remembered, he was fending off someone and fainting after waiting for the person’s next move. Now that his mind is somewhat clear, he immediately noticed the mistakes that he made. Given the situation, what he should have done is to relentlessly attack instead of waiting. Even if it was a haphazard attempt for victory. If he did, he might have had a small chance of incapacitating his opponent, or if a miracle of a one in a million chance just so happened, killing them by hitting an artery and causing profuse blood loss is a miracle he'd take anyday. Also, putting his fate on the opponents mercy by fainting doesn’t sit well with him.
As he got up, he noticed a small bag to the side with a piece of paper stuck on top of it. It was a note. It read, ‘Sorry, kiddo. My pals wouldn’t let me adopt a stray. So, here’s some of the stuff that I stole from some of them to get by. If we ever meet again, don't tell them that I did it, okay? ♥Kisses♥’
Inside, there were canned goods, a water purifier, a camera for god knows what for, a matching pair of rings, coins that seemed to be made out of pure gold, and a pair of blue boxers that had the logo of Superman printed on it. It must have been the person that he met last night, he thought.
Normally, he wouldn’t take any donations from strangers, but as it's already here and it would be a waste not to take it, he flings it over his shoulder and readied himself to go out again.
He cautiously opens a small opening on the door and checks if there's anything outside. Nothing. With light footsteps, he goes into the corridor and makes his way down. Along the way, he noticed that he was inside of a hospital somewhere inside the city. As to which hospital, he couldn’t tell, but once he arrived on the first floor, a huge sign behind the reception desk read, ‘St. Peter’s M...’ with most of the letters gone.
He immediately held his breath and tiptoes his way outside. This is a deathtrap, he thought. One of the spots were Shadows roamed in the hundreds from what he’d seen in the past. This is basically a nest for them, but now… it feels so empty and quiet. Too quiet. But the surprises didn’t stop there.
Daryll’s mouth hangs open in disbelief. The city that he was so used to seeing, the abandoned city that was in ruins just last night is gone. There lay rubbles of the huge towering buildings, reduced to mere pieces of blocks and crumbled foundations. The only standing structure left is this place, St. Peter’s. Also, there doesn’t seem to be any hostile foe left in the area. No lurking Shadow People, no Terror Birds in the sky, no Green Gobblers that rolled around in the streets. Nothing.
Whoever did this had done a thorough job of demolishing the landscape and exterminating any creature in sight. You could now see the mountains off in the distance. But here lay a question, or should I say a conundrum.
“What do I do?” he muttered.
All these years, Daryll North’s only purpose was to survive. And surviving he did. Now that there’s nothing threatening his life at the moment, what should he do next? He could secure tons of resources again, but that would be wasting time if he can only stash it in a place that’s too conspicuous as the only building left standing in the vicinity. Other passersby would definitely seek shelter here to rest for a night or two and he definitely could not carry a lot with him if he goes off to who knows where. Now that he thinks about it, losing the city’s vast and complex pathways and structures might have been a misfortune to him.
Should he gather what’s left and leave? Or should he wait here until someone else arrives before he does so? A tough choice. On one side, he doesn’t know where else to go, but on the other, what if those new arrivals wouldn’t be so friendly or considerate as the ones before… and putting his life to chances is not the option that he's willing to take.
“A canteen, additional food… and my knife” with his mind set on the next course of action, he goes off to find what he needs before leaving the remnants of the city that was once his home.