Two it Just as Bad as One

Hunter & Smoker Friendship


Ok, I was writing a smut fic with these guys but I during the paragraph summery of their meeting I decided I liked it so much I decided I wanted to write it. Two quick chapters coming up.


The frantic thud of uneven feet on concrete.

A shrill wail from a car alarm.

The smoke of some far off unattended fire.

The smell of bodies rotting in the streets.

Black and red lingered together as it leeched slowly into the sewer grates.

It was a mess, the city was a mess, to every sense, in every way. Something was always moving in the smog, someone was always screaming, something was always killing. He hated it down here.

But there was food, he could either die quickly in a burst of violence, or slowly from starvation where it was safe.

It was the worst near the highway, where the streets had clotted in the race to escape the infection. The roads only led to a deathtrap, drivers fodder for the oncoming hoards. Now the empty cars lined the lanes as far as he could see.

Grave stones.

But they made perfect cover. Slinking from car to car he made his way down the streets. There was plenty to hide from, the poor souls who the infection ate holes away in their brains, the larger mutants who were too crazed to decide what they wanted to destroy first, but worse of all were-

"SMOKER!"

He ducked just before a gunshot broke the windshield above his head.

The immune survivors.

Shit…

Smoker, that's what they called him. It made sense, it also made sense that they would shoot, most who fell to the infection weren't exactly friendly any more. But sense didn't help him in this situation.

Sliding over the hood of an abandoned car he shrunk behind the door, hopping they'd get distracted by something else and leave him alone.

"TANK!"

Not the best thing to hope for.

The next instant his cover was lifted above his head, leaving him exposed to the hauntingly empty eyes of a huge infected. A stray bullet knocked the looming behemoth upside the head but he didn't flinch. Large hands flung the neglected car through the air at the survivors, letting loose an explosion of guns and screams.

Taking advantage of the chaos he ran, ducking into a nearby ally, it stunk of rotting flesh and urine but it was better then what was outside. The fight was muted to his stinging ears by the bricks and garbage.

In the silence he heard something else.

Words, mumbles, someone was talking, not screaming or growling, talking.

What the hell?

His steps were cautious, though with the occasion hacking he couldn't help emitting it felt rather ridiculous to sneak. Behind a dumpster he found the source of the noise.

Curled up against the side he found a person, a kid, his shivers were reverberating in the metal. He was talking to himself, franticly, trying to convince himself everything was alright. Shaking hands wrapped something long and silver around his face, the fingers were red with blood. He was so lost in his own messed up world he didn't notice the other until he was on his knees in front of him.

The smoker backed away when the smaller infected's head suddenly shot up. A single eye stared into his own, the pupil was a painful looking red, surrounded by a smoky black where white should be, the other was covered in a crude sling of duct tape that wrapped around the right side of his head, stray white tuffs of bleached, once spiked hair and dark crimson blood seeping out from under it. But it wasn't the pathetic scene wasn't what frightened him, it was the look in that one eye, he knew it well, that's what they all looked like when the lost they're humanity.

When they attacked.

"This is YOUR FAULT!" he screeched, his voice breaking like a teen in puberty turning into wolfman. He lunged with a fierceness the smoker didn't expect from someone so small. Black claws sank into his shoulder before he could scramble out of the way. The smaller one tumbled awkwardly, smacking against a wall rather than his target. A low rumble of a growl lingered in the air before his body stopped moving. A small puddle of blood was slowly spreading under his face, too much blood loss, he had no energy left to fight.

The smoker hissed at the wound his own curiosity had earned him, absently licking at it with a tongue that had grown from the tumors on his back. Here he thought he'd finally found someone left with sense around here. Well the pipsqueak had been talking, maybe he wasn't entirely wrong. But why was he hostile?... what did he mean 'your fault'?

It didn't matter. Within the next split second another car hurtled through the alley. He managed to duck and cover over the smaller one but a loud explosion told him the other wouldn't be safe here for very long.

Where was his humanity if he just left him here to die?

With a groan his hoisted him up on his shoulder, not sure if he was thankful or annoyed he was still breathing, and slunk down the alleyway. If he was trouble he could always just tie him up when he got home.

No food but a new friend, at least the trip wasn't a total waste of time.


As soon as the infection hit there was a mass exodus from uptown and the hills were now full of empty luxury houses. It was far from sources of food and supplies but it was safe, the monsters downtown rarely made it this far and there weren't enough free weapons to sustain the immune.

The smoker had chosen a house with solar panels so he had at least a chance at electricity. He managed to lug the dead weight to the living room where he slung the smaller infected on the couch. It was a while before he caught his breath and managed to get a better look at the other.

By dark claws and darkened eye he figured this was the one the survivors called a hunter. He could tell by his roots that his pale hair was once blonde but the infection drained the color and the remnants of hair gel said it was once spiked. He wore a black stained, hoodie with a white design around the hood and pockets that looked like teeth, probably to match the spiked collar that hung loosely around his thin neck.

The thing that was the most noticeable was the duct tape still wrapped painfully around his head. His right eye must have begun to fall out, it was a symptom of his types… mutation, the other was going to fallow soon. The whole thing must have frightened him, he hadn't been thinking straight. With a cautious hand he reached to remove one of the blood stained roles.

And received a chomp on the hand for his efforts.

"SHIT!" his hand flew back, soon followed by the rest of him, sending him with a thunk to the floor.

"Who the fuck are you!"

No, don't ask if I'm okay, he thought as dragged himself back up.

"Chill, Dude, you were in an alley and-"

"Get the hell away from me freak!" he began scrambling back on the couch, scratching into the expensive leather with his claws. "You're contagious! Don't touch me!"

"Contagious? You're already infected, haven't you no-"

"SHUT UP! I'M NOT! I'M NOT A FREAK LIKE YOU!" he clutched his hands to his head, "Th-they don't understand… it's a cold, it's just a cold."

The hunter started mumbling again, curling as tight as he could into himself, trying to make the world go away.

"Hey, hey." He began to reach out but after what happened last time comforting him probably wasn't too safe on his part. If he was in denial there wasn't much he could do in the first place. "Look, you're safe here, just… take some time to calm down. I'll be upstairs if you… yeah."

He felt guilty leaving him alone, backing away, watching to make sure the other didn't try anything rash. Maybe he just needed some time.

And there was an Xbox upstairs, that would pass some time.