AN: Hiya, guys! I managed to sneak onto my padre's laptop to publish, as my comp is.. Kind of dead as of right now. Oh. Follow me on tumblr! Ryuzaki21121. I'll have updates for my fics on there. ;D I got the idea for this fic from going through old cds of mine. AND well, idk, the rest is history. This is a very obvious au because there probably won't be any zombies. Yet. The entire cast of both games are in fact in this game.
Warning, this may be a trigger warning for people who have had things like this done to them, meaning anti-gay attacks. I mean absolutely no disrespect featuring it in my story. it's a real problem, I know. I really don't know what else to say, except that I'm a member of the LGBT community and I don't want any of this to be taken the wrong way. If it makes you uncomfortable, feel free to tell me in a review or hit your back-button.
Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, nor its sequel, or any other VALVe games. Nor do I own Deliverance or any references to anything else. I don"t even consider this version of Nick to be mine. -shrug-
He stood on a street surrounded by corn, where the light flickered and only one car passed by: his thumb was stuck out, arm outstretched, beseeching a ride from any kind stranger. Of course, it was late in the night, but Nicholas Cornell was not one to give up easily.
Plus it wasn't as if he was a bum. His white suit was clean enough, he shaved and his dark hair was only somewhat mussed; though that was from his nervous tic of running his hand through it. He'd be the only person you'd see dressed like that in the middle of Nebraska but it didn't really matter.
Not even when a group of teenagers (from, he assumed, the nearest high school, not having been there nor seeing the students before in his life) pulled up, did he stop his pacing along the sidewalk. The car had to be ancient, an old jalopy pick up truck that clearly had seen better days. Ol' Nick wasn't too keen on cars but if he had to hazard a guess at the year it was manufactured, he'd have said probably in '56 or 57. The car itself looked like it was held together solely with duct tape and country prayers, he mused to himself, pursing his lips at the sight of the rusty old machine.
"Evening, boys." He nodded, trying to be polite at the rowdy teens, but not so polite that it would seem creepy. "Willing to help a guy out? 'Could use a ride right about now."
Nick's voice had the faintest tinge of a city accent, soft and well mannered but husky like he didn't use it, or maybe he used it a bit too much. It must have sounded fantastic if he were to sing.
"Hey, man, why don'cha get in?" The adolescent driving spoke up, a broad-shouldered redhead, his twangy voice practically oozing with small-town hospitality.
Nick nodded, grateful for this good fortune, letting himself smile a little. "Thanks a lot."
He stuck out his hand to shake and the ginger took it, his massive rough hand enveloping the easterner's average sized and well kept one. He could smell the booze on his breath and it made him pause. He could tell the stranger had been drinking. Nicky wasn't one to avoid risks, but he'd rather not end up dead in a ditch somewhere.
"Never mind, I'll just stay where I am." He pulled back.
The redhead in the driver's seat guffawed loudly, a sound that sent chills up his spine for some reason. This wasn't Deliverance, he had nothing to fear from these hillbillies.
"What, are you some kinda queer or something, city boy?"
On second thought, maybe these guys were a bit more dangerous than he thought. Images from the news flashed through his mind, stories about anti-gay hate crimes.
"Too queer to ride with real men, then." The redhead looked to his companions in the backseat and passenger seat beside him, the other teens that Nick failed to notice before.
"Looks like we got ourselves a queer, gentlemen!" The pizza faced teen beside the redhead whooped, laughing hysterically, and the rest of them hollered along with him.
The redhead leaned toward him through the window, clearly a mean drunk. "Y'know what we do with queers here, city boy? They're an abomination against God, so we gotta kick their asses 'fore they spread all around, with their sick ideas. Them queers gotta die."
The way he said 'queer' was with such hatred, in a way he'd never really heard before. His voice dropped to a snarl. "Why don't we teach this queer a lesson he won't forget?" He let out a low bark of a laugh, goosebumps running across Nick's skin. "Get 'm, boys."
The doors swung open and four of the biggest, beefiest farm boys Nick had ever seen stepped out. They must have been on football or something at their school because they were huge.
Nick backed up, viewing his options. He had only two choices: let himself be killed by these apes, or book it through the empty field behind him. He decided on the latter, turning and running fast in a zigzag pattern.
He could feel rather than hear the footsteps of them behind him, right on his tail. One of them managed to grab him by the collar and get him on the ground as he writhed, trying to get away. The huge lug pinned him to the ground easily, kneeing him in the stomach and slamming his fists into his face over and over again.
Nick could hear the others laughing and whooping the whole time. The rain of blows hitting his face never dulled, the intense sting of his lip splitting and the sickening crack of something in his nose breaking announced the addition of sticky and hot blood running down past his mouth. He could feel his whole face swelling under the never-ending haze of pain.
The guy (who had to weigh at least 275) finally got off of him and he thought he knew what was coming next. The murders in the news always ended with sexual assault and death for the victim.
Instead, a thick heeled steel-toed boot was pressed firmly to his collarbone. The foot lifted for one merciful second and then came crashing back down on his chest. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and he couldn't breathe, a sharp pain shooting down his ribs. He distantly felt a hand reach into his pocket and pull out what he assumed was his wallet.
Then they all descended on him, the drunkard rednecks not letting up one bit as they pummeled him with their own boots, kicking him in the stomach and sides. He curled up into a ball to try to fend off the more painful and probably damaging blows. Eventually they got bored and left him alone, but not before spitting on him and calling out to him as they ran off back to their car.
"An' stay outta our land, you queer!"
Cackling like drunk loons, they swung back into the car, piling into the trunk.
He didn't try to respond, only focusing on forcing more air into his lungs and trying to stay awake. Groaning, he gingerly curled up into a tighter ball in the coverless field, shaking still. He'd never been attacked before like this, and now all he wanted to do was rest. He let his swollen eyes close and he mercifully blacked out, right as the sky began to lighten.
AN: I like to think that the guy that pinned Nick down is maybe a future Tank. And 'pizzaface' as I referred to him, is totally a Jockey. -shrug- Dun dun dun. Um, hint as to who just attacked our beloved conman.. Keith is a ginger in this~
Thank you for reading! R&R please.