Prompt from the durarara! kinkmeme:

Shizaya x L4D

Yes, I'd love to see a crossover with Left 4 Dead!
With Shizuo as Francis and Izaya as Louis :D
Shizuo and Izaya should stay in character (with their appearances and characterizes), I would love to see how they would survive a zombie apocalypse (even though it's just infected humans =P) and how they would survive to depend on each other~

Something dull, hard and cold was digging into his back. That was the first thing Heiwajima Shizuo realized when he came to.

A groan slipped past cracked, bloody lips as he sat up groggily and opened his aching eyes, immediately looking up and down his body and finding, to his great relief, that everything was still attached and in its right place.

It was dark and the fact that he couldn't remember how he had gotten here, and why he had been unconscious in the first place disconcerted him so much, that it was impossible to think clearly without a white veil of shock clouding his mind.

Sitting up, he reached behind himself to pull a broken pipe out from beneath him and looked around to find himself in an almost entirely collapsed building, the half full moon shining in through a hole in the ceiling, from where dust and small pieces of concrete were still raining down on him.

Utterly confused and with horror slowly expanding within his chest, he got on his knees and crawled towards the only source of light.

"Hello?" His yell turned out choked as he breathed in deeply and dusty air entered his lungs, tickling in his throat more so than the cigarettes he usually smoked. "Hello?"

The silence that answered him was deafening, and for most likely the first time in his life, Shizuo felt his heart speed up, racing uncontrollably with fear while he felt like someone had stabbed a knife into his throat. He felt sick to his stomach and he couldn't even explain why.

He got up, despite how tempting it seemed to just curl up and go back to sleep and hope that next time he woke up, everything would be alright again.

A headache throbbed within his skull when he raised himself and tried his best to remember what had happened. His very own brain defied him and his head only hurt more when he desperately attempted to piece the last things he could recall together.

He had worked – he had gotten angry – auburn eyes – the flea...

In his complete confusion, it didn't strike him as odd at all, that the first person he thought about after the world had apparently come to a sudden, abrupt end, was Orihara Izaya, his worst enemy and the only person he thought deserved to die under circumstances as horrible as the situation he was currently in.

Another groan climbed up his throat and sounded foreign to him as it was thrown back at him by the unsteady walls.

A threatening screeching sound was all the warning he got when a few feet away from him, the ceiling gave in to gravity and large pieces of it came close to hitting him in the head. The blond man was not sure whether he could say that he was lucky that he hadn't been knocked out again or squashed, considering he didn't know what awaited him out there.

He was sure, however, that he had little time left before this whole place caved in on itself, and it took him a tremendous amount of strength to get up, ducking so he wouldn't hit his head on some of the pipes protruding from the raw walls like daggers from a fallen warrior's chest.

He ran down a crumbling flight of stairs, slipping on rubble and almost falling several times, before making it outside just as the building collapsed almost entirely, leaving nothing but the plain iron structure, so that it looked like a skeletonized corpse, a beacon of despondence in a fire illuminated night that smelled of death and decay.

For a moment, he could only stand there, catching his breath and looking at the destroyed building he had just managed to escape out of, while he clasped one hand over his mouth and nose to somehow make the stench more bearable, only to realize that his own hand was soaked in blood he could now taste on his lips.

He took a few seconds to examine the patches of skin that weren't covered by his slightly torn and ripped bartender suit, finding scratches and red purple bite marks on his arms.

Since this was all just an incredibly disturbing dream, or so he tried to tell himself, he disregarded his minor wounds and decided to take a look around.

He almost felt like he was in one of those stupid, unrealistic horror movies he and his classmates had watched in high school as a trial of courage, and he had somehow wound up as the main character, who, against his better judgment, and much to some audience's distress and frustration, was exploring what had happened, instead of just running for his fucking life.

Climbing over a flipped, burnt out car, Shizuo blindly started walking into one direction, all the while trying to recognize exactly where he was.