Cruel Fates

(3) Serena

       "Hey, guys! I found some ruins!" The animated, hearty voice of a young man called out, presumably to his companions.

       Wait... a voice? Out here? I mean, I know it wasn't impossible to run into other humans here, but it just didn't happen frequently. The likelihood would be like once in a blue moon at the very most. I shot up when I realized the footsteps were drawing nearer towards my location. I glanced at the door as I stealthily made my way around the cellar, narrowly avoiding the corpse, and gathering what little belongings I own. My ears picked up on the sound of someone attempting to open the cellar doors, causing me to slightly freeze. I made a move to grab my sword when I remembered I had used it to keep the cellar doors closed. Damn me.

       "I believe that something is holding the doors in place," came the husky, cool voice of another male.

       "Oh, really now? I thought it was the little ghost in the cellar that was trying to keep the doors shut." Was the mellifluous sarcastic voice of a female. I couldn't help but mentally laugh at that, and then I spared another glance at the corpse with a small grimace. I nearly forgot about it, honestly.

       "Silence that mouth of yours, Angel. I am in no mood for the sarcasm." The male with the husky voice replied to the one now known as Angel. Looks like someone has a stick up their crap hole.

       I furrowed my brows together when another attempt was made to open the cellar. I reached down inside of my leather boots and withdrew a concealed dagger. Slowly, yet soundlessly, I crept towards the cellar door, and positioned myself in an open space under the pair of doors with my left hand reaching out in attempt to grasp the handle of my sword when a closed fist obscured my vision. I blinked in surprise. A fist?

       Realization dawned down upon me. One of the males of the group, a trio from what I can tell, had punched a hole through the doors of the cellar. I mean to be fair, the wood was already rotting away and it wasn't necessarily hard to break it, at least the ones I'm looking at.

       I clenched my jaw and grabbed the hilt of the sword and yanked it towards my direction, all the while causing a somewhat jagged line of blood to appear on the man's arm from where I had just now sliced him. The said man, who I figured was Mr. Grumpy, angrily hissed out a number of curses. But I didn't care. For all I know, these people are a part of one of those corrupted organizations some liked to form. Scratch that, most humans are corrupted anyways.

       I felt better having two weapons out and in my immediate possession. I don't know what these trio are capable of, after all. They aren't mere Wimlins who are easy to outsmart. No, they're humans, therefore, they really are unpredictable and definitely more dangerous. I pushed myself against the wall when I heard the other male speak out.

       "Ace? Are you all right? That's a bad gash you have there," Mr. Nice— as I will now call him until I learn his name, if I even do— added, "Angel, can you go grab some bandages? I have some in my pack that you can go ahead and grab. They're in the front pocket."

       I heard Angel give a faint reply before I heard her shuffle away to go grab some of the bandages Mr. Nice told her to go fetch.

       "It's nothing more than a mere flesh wound, Ashton. Do not get so worked up over something as trivial as this." He grumbled lowly.

       "Trivial? This is definitely not trivial! Are you not seeing your arm? Are you fucking blind? You're bleeding a lot and you can get it infected if not treated! What even caused this injury?"

       "It was probably caused when I punched the cellar door or maybe from an object that is inside," Ace speculated, indifferent to what I imagined was a ton of blood dripping from his wound. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little. Maybe it wasn't a lot, but at least it was a good amount. I couldn't resist the small smirk that snuck its way to my face.