Disclaimer: I do not own Bitter Bits, A German Spy, or Darkest Dungeon. This is a rewrite of the first chapter.
"Keep running!" Nic shouted, his boots thumping against the cobblestone floor as he sprinted down the narrow and dimly lit hallway.
"I'm trying!" Franz shouted back, a few feet behind his bearded companion. His thick black trench coat billowing behind him, his zweihander slung over his shoulder in a makeshift scabbard made of burned and charred wood held together with grass and strips of cloth. Franz slipped on something, and slammed into the stone floor.
"Damnit" Franz muttered under his breath, he stood up and took a shaky breath, turning to face back towards from where they came. Sorry Nic, looks like I'm missing bowling night, "Run! Go get help! I'll hold her off!"
Nic stopped dead in his tracks, "What? No you're coming with me and we'll get out of here together!" He turned and started running back to Franz.
"No!" Franz shouted back as he unsheathed his zweihander, its blade gleaming in the torch light, "I'll distract her, you go to the town and get help"
Nic choked, his words stuck in his throat, "Then don't die. If you do, I'll bring you back to life and kill you again myself!" he said with fire in his eyes after a moment before sprinting off towards the exit.
"Promise" Franz muttered as he watched his friend run off. The blade in his hands felt much heavier than it had moments before. Many demons have fallen to this blade, hopefully it can fell one more.
Franz started walking down the hall. The further he walked into the bowels of the hallway, the darker it got. The torches grew dimmer, and the air grew heavier, smothering Franz with a blanket of pressure, as if he was under water. Then he heard it. It was quite at first, then it grew the deeper he went. It was laughter, not the innocent kind that one has with friends or family, but the kind that the insane sing as they slit a man's throat. The laughter bounced off of the walls, surrounding and filling Franz with a sense of dread.
She can kill me whenever she wants. The thought came to him like a bolt from the blue. This is just a game to her, and I am but a Pawn trying to take a Queen. He shook his head to get rid of his thoughts, he always fought better when his mind was blank, like a still pool of water, reflecting the state of what lies before it, but letting none enter its depths. Then the torches started getting brighter, and the air lost it heaviness, making it easier to breathe. The hallway was no longer the shoddy cobblestone it had once been, but was now a bright white marble that reflected the light from the torches that lined the walls.
After a bit more walking in the redecorated hallway, Franz stopped in front of a door. It was made of what appeared to be gilded silver, with platinum handles that were at least three feet long, and were thicker than his sword was wide. He grasped one of the handles with his free hand and pulled as hard as he could. The door slid open as if it weighed nothing, and Franz stepped back to avoid getting hit.
The open door revealed a large spacious room that seemed to be made of pure silver or white gold. As Franz moved to stop over the threshold, a thick white fog rose up, blocking his way forward.
She's giving me a chance to run, why? This unnerved him greatly, and further confirmed his suspicions of Ayn treating this like nothing more than a game. Steeling himself for the fight to come, Franz pushed through the fog.
AN: Let me know what you think of this rewrite, what was improved from the original first chapter as well as if anything is worse.
