[center][h1][b][color=228B22]Cheung Ji[/color][/b][/h1][/center] [hr] [color=00FFFF][center] The House in the Middle of Bumfuck Nowhere, Nevada [/center][/color] [hr] [color=228B22]"Shite, shite, shite." [/color] Cheung Ji cursed under his breath as he darts toward the house atop the hill. To be honest, he is out of breath. His lung is on fire. His heart boiled. His muscles tensed, and his skin is having goosebumps on goosebumps. For despite being a "survivalist" for more than half a month now, he wasn't very keen on staying in shape per se, often spending more time reading and collecting various goods on his way. But, he wasn't keen on the idea of stopping for breaths either. The limited experiences between him and the mist are not exactly something worth remembering, with him usually hiding in some corner while waiting for the horror to go over. And there is no good hiding place except for the house. So, using all his strength, he ran. He passed over the three that just arrive in a car. And almost barreling into the living room had he not hold himself against the doorframe to stop the momentum. Even then, he wasn't relieved. Not because the room was filled with strangers, they can kill each other later, but because the mist was here. Its scarlet color promised blood to be spilled. And Cheung wasn't ready for his blood to spill. So, gulping for breaths, he moved himself to one of the corners, where he coincidentally placed behind the girl holding a golf club and the duo who are taking care of an injured. Perhaps this is where he should stand by the girl's side. Perhaps this is where he should hold his ax and protect the women. Perhaps this is where his morals would win and he will be a hero. Thankfully, it is his fear that is in control. So god be damned and so are these women. Holding the fire ax across his chest, Cheung slowly placed his flashlight on the floor, making sure that the light is directed toward the window. [color=228B22]"God. Just let me live..."[/color] Cheung Ji muttered under his breath, tracing imaginary figures in the blood mist like a fisherman in the open sea.