Hello readers! This is my first ever fanfic, written about the lovely game The Last of Us. Review, critique, and tell me if you liked it. Otherwise, thanks for your time.

Take Flight

"Get up." An unusually British voice called out from the black. My head was throbbing, and something sticky and warm dampened my hair.

"Bloody fucking hell Arthur, get the fuck up!" I was yanked to my feet. My eyes opened and revealed a young man, in his twenties, blond hair, brown eyes, wearing a pair of tattered jeans and a shirt that I assume used to be white. His name was Eric King.

"King? What the hell happened?" I asked.

"Roof collapsed; you fell straight through to the second floor." Eric looked around nervously. "Anyway, there's no time, Hunters are on the way, and I want to get the drop on them."

I groaned. It was my first day outside of the Wilmington QZ, and I had already managed to get myself into some sort of danger. I nodded to Eric. "Alright, we don't have any ammo, and I don't have a knife. Assuming you still want to fight them, you have a plan?"

Eric grinned and unstrapped his cleaver from his back. "Always. As far as I can tell, there's only two. You distract, I'll slip out the window and flank. Sneak up on the one in the back, you rush the one in front."

I snorted. "You realize I've never been in a fight before, let alone killed anyone?"

The sounds from the lower floors grew louder, and a pair of voices became more distinct. Eric clapped me on the back. "Well then, here's a good time to start. Let's move."

I took cover behind a rotting table. The room only had one entrance the hunters could use. Eric climbed out of an open window and eased himself to the ground floor silently. From there, he wouldn't be able to help me. I was on my own for now.

The Hunters came closer, turning their backs to my hiding place to inspect the rubble from the third floor's collapse. I took the opportunity to take a look at my opponents.

"Hey, Frank. Look at that. Whole damn celling fell down." The first was a woman, armed with a pistol, was covering the rear. She was in her thirties, wearing a red fishing vest and cargo shorts.

The one known as Frank nodded. "Might be tourists still in the area. Keep sharp." He was sporting a tan leather jacket that had seen better days, and a rifle. Fuck, I thought to myself, they both have guns.

As they walked closer, I realized something. If Eric wanted to, he could simply have left me up here with the Hunters, and walked away. Fortunately, Eric soon appeared into view, silently creeping up the stairwell. He threw a wink my way, twirling his cleaver in anticipation.

The man called Frank took another look around the room,. "Anyone still here?" he called. "We have medical supplies if you need th-" His lies were cut off by the woman's screams. I glanced that way, and saw Eric had buried his cleaver deep into her shoulder.

Frank grabbed at his rifle and aimed at Eric. I leapt out and tackled him, knocking him to the ground. He kicked me off of him and reeled back his arm for a haymaker. I managed to scramble out of the way in time. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his rifle, lying on the floor. I rushed towards it, grasping at the stock. I didn't make it. Frank punted me across the floor, sending me crashing into a wall. My chest hurt like hell, and I was struggling for breath. Frank smiled.

"This is just way too fucking easy. C'mere you little shit." He dragged me off of the floor and slugged me in the face. I recoiled in anticipation of a second hit, but it never came.

Instead, I opened my eyes to see Eric, sporting his signature sadistic smile, and his cleaver lodged in Frank's leg. "Sorry for the wait, thought you could handle it." He tossed the woman's pistol to me and nodded. "C'mon then. Finish the fucker."

I pressed the pistol against Frank's forehead, shut my eyes, and pulled the trigger. I heard his body slump to the floor, and I felt sick to my stomach. Eric slapped me on the back. "Fun, wasn't it? Get your shit together; we're in the presence of a lady." He laughed at his own joke.

I looked over at the woman. She was pressed up against the corner, clutching her shoulder in pain. When Eric and I walked closer, she recoiled back in fear. "Please…no, leave me alone."

Eric squatted down to her level and smiled. "Look love, let me explain to you how this is going to work. I will ask you a few questions. You will answer them, truthfully, or I will take your arm off. After my questions, you get to go home. Understand?"

She nodded. Eric continued. "First: you have a camp somewhere in the city. Where is it?"

"L-less than a mile from here, to the north."

Eric looked my way. "Is that in our path?" I shook my head. "Not in the slightest. We'd have to go the opposite way."

Eric sighed in relief. "Alright, so it's safe to let her go. Second question: Do you have any other supplies or caches in the area?"

She shook her head. "Just what we have on us."

Eric smiled. "Thank you for your time. When you wake up, go home." He wrapped his hands around her throat until she drifted into unconsciousness. He stood up and looked at me. "Alright, truth time, is this place in our way?"

I nodded grimly. "If she's telling the truth, they'd likely be stationed right in the middle of it. I-76 starts to the north of here, that's our path."

"Excellent. We'll kill them, restock there, and head out. Nice work there Arty, we'll make a killer out of you yet."

The sheer thought of killing someone made me feel ill. I shrugged it off. We were running out of daylight. "Alright, King, you search our unconscious friend there, I'll check….him." I gestured to Frank's body.

Eric laughed. "Right-o Arty. Besides, I'm better with women anyway, eh?"