1 Close call.

Heavy footsteps hitting the pavement and heavier breathing was all Dell could hear as he was being chased, pushing his body as hard as he could to find somewhere to create a distance between him and and the creature chasing him.

The creature in question was a muscular, eight feet long wolf like monster with four orange and bloodshot eyes. It's claws were bigger then Dell's fingers and shredded bone like paper. Fighting such a beast would be out of the question for someone who was alone, alreadly injured and had just lost thier weapon prior to this in another encounter.

As fate would have it, Dell was that someone. He would let out grunts and curse to himself as he barely ducked or side stepped out of the way of the lethal strikes coming at him relentlessly. Each sudden movement he had to make caused him immense pain in his left ribs from a previous skirmish with an infected.

In Zelith, the endless city shrouded in endless night that Dell and many others like him were currently trapped in, you had three threats to look out for. Beasts, creatures that were tougher, faster and most likely had sharper reactions then you. These mini nightmares were like twisted versions of something you'd see in every day life, beast didn't strictly mean animals.

The Infected. These could vary from much, much weaker then you to unbelievably more dangerous then any beast. This was because, unlike beasts, they had intelligence. They made plans, used weapons, prepeard and even laid out traps. Humanoid in shape, with grey skin and orange eyes. Of course, there was always variations of these monsters.

And lastly, fellow 'Hunters'. Those brought to this city of insanity refused to take things lying down, so they trained, learnt and adapted to the harsh conditions of Zelith. Though, most would prefer to work together, its also likely to come across a fellow hunter who would like nothing more then to watch you get torn apart. Even worse, a hunter that's been infected. They would have the physical strength of a beast, skill and technique of a hunter, intelligence and bloodlust of a regular infected.

"Fuck!" Dell would yell out in pain as a claw from the beast tore a chuck of flesh out of his shoulder. He wasnt as quick as he needed to be. He would continue to dash and dodge down the seemingly endless city street. Taking a wrong turn down an alley could lead to him getting cornered. Dead. But if he kept running straight, the beast would easily catch him. So, also dead. As his eyes darted in all directions looking for some sort of chance to throw the beast of, he saw a building wich resembled a common pub coming up.

In the previous buildings the windows were too small for him to jump into and fully get in right away, and it'd take too much time for him to bash in the doors. However the pub had a window just to the left of its door, just big enough for him but too tight for the beasts muscular frame. So, gritting his teeth and covering his face with an arm he would dash sideways and jump through the window. Though he wasn't stupid enough to call it a win. As soon as he hit the hard wooden floor he would kick at the ground to make some distance between him and the window, not wanting the beast to fit a leg in the window and claw at his own legs.

Through some heavy breaths Dell would say to himself. "Fucking hell, close call this time". He would get himself off the floor as the beast mindlessly tried to fit through the window, clawing at the walls and growling hungrily. Dell, being the somewhat petty guy that he was, flipped it off. "Ok... Ok. If the second floor is safe I'll rest there for awhile then sneak back to a camp." He would think to himself, just because his body was getting a break didn't mean his mind was. Before checking upstairs he needed to catch his breath, so he would sit down at one of the old tables.

Resting his head on his arms he could feel every muscle in his body cry out in pain.

Creek...

The slight noise of a plank being stepped on upstairs caused Dell to dart up. "Shit, of course. I should've checked upstairs before sitting down anyways. God I'm gonna get myself killed with how sloppy I've been toady"

And so, bar stool in hand, the foul mouthed hunter made his way to the stairs.