Disclaimer
I don't own Left 4 Dead. This story is meant to be funny and is not written to offend anyone. You have been warned.
A quick word of thanks to author LynxbyLynx. Thanks for the helpful reviews
Chapter 1
The Meeting, Part 001
"Welcome" a hunter said. A Hunter of course being an infected creature that hunts people and infected of course meaning infected…like zombies. The infected stood before a group of zombies, a horde if you will. "To my presentation on catch prey"
"What's his problem?" A common infected, a male zombie in jeans and a torn shirt, asked the zombie next to him.
The infected, a female in skinny jeans and a loose top, turned to the one that spoke "Greg has issues" She said and added "Best to leave him alone"
"Oh okay" The male frowned "I guess I'm not learning anything about catching prey then"
The female turned to him and gave him a look that only a woman could give to a man.
"Now any good presentation will start with a joke," Greg said. He clapped his claws together trying to think of one. When one came to him he started "So two catholic priests and Justin Bieber walk into a bar…"
"Stop right there champ" A zombie pushed past the crowd towards Greg. "There are still some Beliebers around here"
"Oh great" other zombie said "Quick sombie grab a flamethrower"
"Were not that bad" Belieber zombie moved back into the crowd
"Okay" Greg clapped his claws together again "I guess I should just begin then. What is the one thing survivors have that we don't?"
"Lead?"
"Spirit?"
"Shut up Belieber! And where is that damn flamethrower!" Anti-Bieber zombie yelled more then asked
"Wait" One zombie in the crowd, said, "How do we know this presentation of yours works? For all we know you might be the weirdo that sits in the corner"
"He is the weirdo that sits in the corner"
"Oh"
"But guy does have a point" another zombie said, "Maybe if you could test this plan of yours we would start listening"
"Wait… you guys don't listening when I talk?"
"No"
"Well then" Greg said growling at the horde "I'll catch a survivor using my plan. And then you'll be like 'holy crap Greg your so amazing' and stuff"
"Yeah whatever" Anti-Bieber said "For the love of Steve. Where is that damn Flamethrower!"
"Whatever" Greg said "I'll be back. Nobody touch my collection of marbles" And so Greg left the warehouse that he had called home for the last several minutes and started on a journey to catch a survivor.
Outside it was raining and raining hard and Greg growled-smiled something. It was good to know that the baby blue jacket he always wore came in handy for something, even if he didn't need it anymore. He also wore green pants, torn pants but again he didn't really need it anymore.
He moved forward until he bumped into something. "Sorry" He said quickly before getting a good look at what he walked into.
Greg jumped at what he saw. Before him stood a mighty if not depressed looking Tank infected… zombies they could be depressed to. This large, muscular death machine wore jeans and that was it.
"No problem" said the Tank "The name is Andry"
"I'm Greg," the Hunter said holding out its right claw before pulling it back to his side.
"Nice to meet you Greg"
Somewhere else. A common infected looked up at the sky. He knew what to do.
Everybody's always talking at me
Everybody's trying to get in my head
I want to listen to my own heart talking
I need to count on myself instead
A nearby Witch stirred. Sitting up the half naked killer rubbed her eyes. Always being careful not to remove the eye with her sharp claws, something that has become second nature, after killing of course. She moved to the doorway and looked out of the building she was staying in.
The singing zombie didn't see her.
How will I know if there is a path worth taking?
Should I question every move I make
The thought of…blah blah true and…game playing it my way
Bet on it. Bet on it. Bet on it.
"What heck?" The Witch moved away from the building and into the rain. "That's not the way the song goes…not that I would now and besides High School Musical is so 2009"
"Well it doesn't matter?" The singing zombie said, "I'm doing it my way" The zombie ran off leaving the now wet Witch. The zombie was lucky. A Witch is a very aggressive infected. It would usual take your head before criticizing your choice in music. The infected also wore almost no clothes, only its underwear. So in this case she wore a tank top and her red panties. Something that would probably make the end look slightly bleak but then someone had to give her razor sharp claws and the appearance like she was playing around in Alma's makeup cabinet.
Anyway…
The Witch named Susan made her way down the road. She was to wet to cry or wallow in self-pity well maybe cry but whatever. She took a left and then…
"That doesn't sound like a bad plan" she heard a voice
And then came a second voice "Really?"
"Yeah. It sounds like a shitty plan"
"Thanks Andry"
The Witch had walked right into a Tank and a Hunter. The Hunter would be easy to take down. It was the Tank she worried about but the two did nothing except stare at her. Maybe the two were waiting for an attack.
The two were in fact waiting for the Witch to attack. This waiting eventually became tedious. "Andry" the Hunter said as he grabbed onto the Tank, "Look a Witch"
"Took you long enough" the Tank said, "I don't give a shit. Get of me!" Greg jumped off his friend and came to a standstill slightly behind the big man. The two approached the Witch, slowly and with Andry leading.
"We come in peace," Greg said holding up his claw in a peace like symbol but that only ended up looking like an infected FU.
"Right" The Witch said looking up at the two infected before her
"You can understand us?" asked Greg
"Says the talking hunter," she answered crossing her arms before her
"What?" Greg looked up at Andry who remained still "All infected can talk, right?"
"Where do you come from?" Susan asked
"The crack factory down the street"
"Well then I rest my case"
"So we zombies don't actually talk"
"Really?" Susan asked sarcastically
"Well shit…" Greg said "That is mind blowing"
The Witch rolled her eyes…
