Dangerous Encounters [Dangerous Fellows x Reader]

ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ【１２】

Why were you so nervous? This obviously wasn't a zombie, because zombies were unable to open up doors due to faulty hand-eye coordination. The funny thing—or call it a harsh reality—was that zombies didn't scare you.

Humans did.

You swallowed your spit and hardened your demeanor. Stealth would always be on your side. Ever-so-slowly, you turned the cold knob until the soft click of the latch slipping into its assembly. With no more than a spout of air, the door creaked open and you dipped behind the wall for protection.

When nothing came, you slowly crept out into the open doorway, eyes peeled for any amount of movement. Shoving away your cowardice, you pursued, crawling in through the door at a snail's pace. The break room was messy as ever but had the remnants of a survivor. Medicine, clothes, a sleeping pad, containers, the whole lot—

A strong arm wrapped around your neck and flexed to tighten. Panic shocked your system and sent you into fight, flight, or freeze. Your grip on your bat tightened as you weakly jammed it down onto his foot.

"Fuck!" The man cursed out, chokehold faltering for one second before closing in tighter on your throat. You couldn't breathe.

This couldn't be it? This wasn't the end.

Adrenaline pricked your fingers when the man kicked your bat out of sight. Your hands flew up to try and pry his arm from around your neck.

"Stop struggling you stupid bitch!" You were lifted up into the air as his free hand clamped around your nose and mouth, preventing any possible oxygen from entering your system. Lungs practically on fire, and vision fading with each passing second, you knew you didn't have much time left.

You needed to think quick, and think clever you did. Bringing your arm up, you forced his hand even closer to your mouth and bit as hard as possible.

The man yelped and threw you to the ground, knocking your head into a chair. You heaved and hoed, blurred eyes searching as you palmed the ground for your missing bat.

Cli-ck.

You froze, knowing exactly what was happening behind you. Bat nowhere in sight, your hopes were relentlessly crushed.

"Turn around." The greedy man demanded. You obeyed, eyes downcast.

Wow, what a cool stick.

He walked towards you, shiny pistol aimed right between your eyes as you scanned up him.

"What's the point, man?" You inquired, eyes coming to a stop on the large bite on his ankle. "You're gonna be a fucking zombie anyways... so why kill me?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Why? Because you can't face the truth?" You taunted, grabbing the stick in your hand, hiding it behind your back.

"I said shut the fuck up!"

"What are you gonna do? Eat me when you turn into a zombie?"

"Shut up!"

"Zombie! Zombie!" You shouted back, playing your cards right.

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Just shoot me already! The zombies couldn't get me but I guess they got you. The only way I'll ever fucking die is at the hands of a bastard like you!"

"SHUT-" He stumbled closer to you, gun slowly caving in on himself.

"Shoot me!" Bingo.

The sound of a violent flashbang went off as you cracked the stick across his head like he was a baseball.

He stumbled off into the wall, falling into it for support.

Shockingly he reloaded his gun and took aim, firing a lousy shot that skimmed your left arm. The temporary pain was snubbed out by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Brutality was needed. Gripping the stick, you jabbed it into the open right side of his neck and kicked the gun out of his hand into an unknown corner with your bat.

"Motherfucker, you listen to me. You either get your sorry ass up right now and join your mindless brothers in the streets or I'll save the dramatics and kill you now." You commanded the weak man. He made a pitiful effort to rise and fell back down when you booted him in the forehead. "Get the fuck up!"

He scrambled now, fumbling out into the hallway and down the staircase before finally spotted wandering down the road. He looked back up at you in the break room and walked faster at the sight of his own pistol pointed right at him.

Holy fuck.

Your lungs burned, your head throbbed, your arms stung, and your neck ached. Taking a quick minute, you gathered your bat stuck under a table and pocketed the pistol—sure to flick the safety on—before sauntering back downstairs to retrieve your belongings and cat.

The good news was that despite all the commotion caused, the zombies droned right on by your base and followed after where the deranged zombie-man was heading—nowhere important as far as you knew.

You turned to enter the restroom but then paused. A long sigh passed through your nose and you irked a brow.

"Funny how when I was fighting a man with a gun you still hid down here—not much of a fighter, huh? Rather have someone else do the work for you... right?" You still faced the restrooms, back to the man of mischief behind you. "Come on now." You slowly turned around, facing the darkest corner shrouded by the front desk.

When nothing happened, you popped out a hip, crossing your arms over each other. You had just fought a man with a firearm and he was going to sit in the darkness and play hide-and-seek?

"Come on, enough games." You demanded. But upon more silence, your patience was wearing thin.

Raise the stakes.

Reaching into your bag, you grabbed the pistol, making sure to over-exaggerate flicking the safety off. You pointed the gun at him. "Lawrence, get your ass over here."

The lanky control-freak sauntered out into the light, glaring daggers at you. This wasn't a surprise. The son-of-a-bitch hated your guts for no goddamn reason. Safety back on, you lowered the gun.

"Where are the rest of you?"

N o t h i n g.

"Alright, psycho. The fuck's your problem?" You questioned, beyond annoyed at this point. "Urban farm is mine. I found it first and fought off a deranged man to keep it. There's no way in hell I'd give it over to you." You paused, running your tongue over your teeth in thought. "Or the rest of your crew."

Tired of plain time-wasting on glasses, you turned back to the bathroom and propped open the door, collecting your bags and reorganizing swiftly. Leo came up and rubbed himself on your arm, wanting to be pet but ended up scooped into your arms.

"Alright... door's behind you. Make sure to lock up everything on your way out—don't want a repeat of what happened last time you landed on my doorstep." You chided—almost too real—and walked back upstairs, looking for a room to claim as your own.