Diaverse

Chapter 1

3rd Person POV

23rd November, 2236

The Black Forest, France.

An eight year old ran though the forest, panting from pushing himself so much. It was cold and yet he was sweating. All he had on was a plain grey long sleeved jersey, blue wool pants and a jogging shoes. The setting sun was the only source of light that he had and now, it was gone to his behind the horizon.

He tripped on an overgrown tree root and fell to the forest floor, but used the advantage to somersault instead of falling and he jumped back up, running faster than before. The soldiers were going to come for him. The General especially would be mad. But he didn't care. He'd repeatedly tried and tried again to get out of there. He didn't deserve to be there. He wasn't some animal that they could keep locked down.

He stopped and looked around, listening for a sound. The chilly air made him realise how much he wanted to feel warm again. He missed England. They didn't have soldiers: well soldiers that wanted to kill him or lock him up. Sure he'd shoplifted one or twice, but he'd done his community service for that. What could an orphaned eight year old do about that? He was hungry. At that moment his stomach rumbled from the thought of food. He looked down and groaned quietly.

"Look, I know you're hungry. So am I! But you don't see me whining about it! So be quiet." He spoke to his stomach, which gave another low rumble and was quiet.

A twig snapped from afar and he swiveled his head around to see a soldier holding a rifle about thirty feet away from him. He gasped and then covered his mouth, realising his mistake. The soldier turned at the sound of the noise and the boy stood still. The soldier raised the rifle at him and kept it trained on him. The boy gulped and raised his hands up halfway.

"Whoa...okay...okay...easy..." He looked at him, his hands shaking a bit yet his eyes looking directly at the gun.

The soldier started stepping towards him, slowly and the boy looked around, looking for a way to get out of this situation. He stepped back a bit from the soldier and the man slowly pulled out a pair of handcuffs from inside his beige pants pocket. The boy tensed when he saw the handcuffs and stayed where he was.

"What is...your name?" The soldier spoke with a heavy French accent.

The boy said nothing and glared at the gun, his expression sharp and no longer scared. The soldier jabbed it in front of him, trying to make the boy flinch, and was a bit disappointed when he didn't.

"What is....your name!" He repeated, this time his voice louder and a bit shaky.

"You speak English?" The boy said quietly. It sounded loud among the trees, since the air was still and nothing moved.

"Ja." The man narrowed his eyes at the child, wondering what he was about to do next. "A little. That was not my question...what is...your name?"

The boy lowered his hands and stepped forward to the man slowly, his eyebrows furrowed and his black eyes gleaming. The soldier quivered a bit under the boy's fierce gaze and took a step back.

"Monseigneur! Stay where you are!" He pushed the gun towards him again, somewhat threateningly.

The boy stepped forward again, and placed his hand on the gun's tip and pulled it away from him. In one quick turn, he'd reversed it and, pointed the gun at the soldier who had fallen into his bottom. The soldier decided for the worst and yelled out loud, hoping his other troop members would hear him. The boy smiled and loaded the gun.

"Never mind my name. Just remember the child who beat you." He slammed the gun into the man's temple and the soldier blacked out.

The nearby troop members did hear him and they rushed towards the boy, all with their rifles raised. The boy rolled his eyes, took aim at the six of them and fired. Eventually all six went down, dead; three shot in the heart, two shot in the neck and one headshot.

The boy laughed and dropped the gun which was empty of ammo and walked over to one of the dead soldiers. He wiped the blood off the gun against the soldier's pants leg and loaded it. He searched the man and found, a whistle, a Swiss Army Knife, two daggers, and a small box of ammunition for three rounds. He took them all, hiding the daggers in his socks , one in each, the Army Knife in his right pocket along with the ammunition box. The whistle was attached to a string and he placed it around his neck.

He heard the first soldier groan and he walked over to him. The soldier looked up at him with sadness and a bit of fear.

"Please Monsieur, I have a wife and son." He said, his voice shaky.

The boy looked at him and sighed and stepped back from him a bit. He aimed the gun at him. "You should've thought about that before you tried to shoot me."

"Who are you?" The soldier gasped and started to cry a bit.

But the boy had no sympathy on his heart, so he pressed the trigger twice, hitting the soldier in the head. He smiled again and laughed. "They will soon know." He whispered.

When the sun was coming up, the general had a group of soldiers with him. They were searching for a missing troop party, that his son was a part of. A Colonel found a body and yelled out to the others. Another soldier found a boy, dead. And so it went until six bodies were found, all dead. Then another soldier found a body, near the base of an oak tree, and it proved to be the the General's son, who was the first soldier. His shirt was open and covered in blood. There was a name scratched into the man's chest and arms.

The General stooped down to observe the man better. He sighed and looked at the name, and growled.

"I will find you. And I will kill you." He whispered to no one.

The General got up and spoke to the entire party. "Donnez-moi me livre! I am Jacques du Marquis, your General. The person who killed my son must suffer, tortured and be killed! Fan out! Leave no place unsearched, no rock unturned! I must find the one by the name of Ares La Rue!"

(I hope this book goes good...Feedback is accepted. Good or bad.)