This is my first post on Fan Fiction so it might be a bit unwieldy. I will and want constructive critism aslong as it is of use to me. Please no childish reviews or text wording. If your going to type, do it properly. Based on the feedback, I might or might not continue this so it is up to the readers. I'm not desperate for reviews so don't feel obliged to review. Also, if you find a typo, please point it out. Thanks

-Triggs

Left 4 Dead and all the other stuff is owned by Valve.

I only own a copy of the game and my character, Jack

I wasn't always like this. I don't remember who or even what I was before but I do know I wasn't like this. In most ways I'm not like my other brothers and sisters, evolved or not. (Evolved is what we call the few of us who have advanced more than the regular garden variety of whatever we are. Just thought I'd write this so you would understand the rest) True, I have huge, razor sharp claws and a very short temper but I'm not all disfigured and everything.... I think thats the word...

Anyway I look alot like the humans that used to live here. I manged to find some pictures in the various buildings and a mirror in one house. I have short black hair and a light, muscular build and could probably pull off pretending to be a human. Ok, maybe I'm a bit pale, with blood red eyes and huge claws that seem to be able to cut through nearly everthing, but apart from that, I'm pretty human looking.

Ahh... Why do I bother. I'm definitely not human so what does it matter what I look like. I mean, It's not like I'm going to be living amongest humans even if there are any left that aren't running from my kind. I don't look at all like any of my evolved siblings either. I'm not over the top muscley, not grossly fat and stinking, don't have a huge tongue and don't pounce on anything that moves while screeching my head off. And I most definitely don't spend my days and nights sobbing and then acting like someone has gone and shoved a iron rod up my ass whenever someone startles me.

The only similarities I have with my kind is that towards my sobbing sister, in terms of blood red eyes, long, deadly claws and a quick silver temper. But whereas she spends her days crying about, God only knows, I spend my days constructively, reading, hunting and writing in this journal. How is a male version of the "Witch", as the humans have named her, able to hold a pen, let alone write, with nails like kitchen knives I hear you ask. Well, claws are as handy as quills as they are with ripping apart people.

Well, I've gotten bored, so till next time

Slán Leat

Jack Ripper

The male witch/warlock/wizard?..... whatever

Sighing slightly, I picked up a piece of cloth and wiped the ink from the tips of my claws as I studied the scrawled entry. Standing up, I picked up the journal and put it away, careful of my claws, always careful of the claws. I had learned the hard way what happens if your careless. The ropey scars on my arms and chest were a testimony to that. Even so, I managed to add another scratch to the collection as I put the journal into an old filing cabinet for safe keeping. Licking the cut on my wrist, I stepped around the flipped fridge I was using as a desk and walked to the window.

Leaning forward, I scanned the streets below. Many of my weaker kind staggered in the street. Most of them were wandering around aimlessly or on the ground with the exception of a few fighting. The various burning barrels and flickering headlights added with my kind and the leftovers of their meals combined together to create a scene that would make the knees of any Horror veteran shake.

Placing my forehead against the cool glass, I watched through glazed eyes as the fodder wandered about.(Fodder is what us evolved called our weaker brothers and sisters.) After hours of watching, the only funny moment which occured when one of the fodder stupidly tried to climb a burning barrel and set himself alight. Running around like a mad blazing torch he manged to set three others alight before dying.

Chuckling at the memory, I turned from the window and walked across the destroyed kitchen that had become my office. Cracked tiles crackled under my shoes as I walked across the room, giving the impression I was walking on Ice. Glancing around the stripped room, I walked out the door, no, door way. It was near to impossible to open doors with these hands so removing them was the best option.

Walking down the hall, I idly scratched my nails againist the wall as I stepped over the various items strewn across the hall floor. These consisted of a toaster, a shoe, a leg of a chair, I think and a childs toy covered in dry blood and broken glass. Glancing down at the toy, I tried not to think of child who had owned the toy and their fate. Whereas most of my kind, evolved and fodder, were brutes, there were a few like myself who had manged to keep some measure of intelligence.

Even so we were rare and many gave into insanity anyway rather than live in a world like this. I had manged to hold on so far by killing any emotion that popped up to threaten it. All that was left now was coldness, curiousity and anger.

Climbing the stairs, I stepped out onto the roof. Looking around, I took in the sights that had become so familar to me in the past two weeks. The smoke coming off the many fires in the city gave everthing a hazy look. I spotted the hospital off the the left, a huge white building ,towering above the rest of the city. It's large neon sigh giving the top of the building a weird green glow. This city had once been called Mercy City, the many signs had told me so, but now I had aptly renamed it No Mercy city. "

"Now theres wit for ya" I mumured to myself, my voice gravelly from lack of use. My mouth twitched up into a grin at the stupidity of my pun. My grin slowly slipped as I noticed a weird veichle, flying around. What are they called again I thought to myself as I tracked it. Machine, it's a machine alright.... damn, what is it!?! I thought as I tapped my chin with a claw, lightly of course. "Damit! Why can't I remember!!" I shouted at the world, startling awake an, aptly named Hunter, on the next roof.

With a screech, He jumped from his roof onto mine, intent on killing me for waking him from his beauty. Sighing again, I turned to face him, all the while racking my brains for the name of that weird bug shaped flying thing. With another screech, the Hunter closed the gap between us with a large pounce, intent on crushing me into the floor. Except I wasn't where he landed. Stepping to the side, I dodged the Hunter's pounce and grabbed one of his arms as he landed. Twirling him around, I plunged my right claw deep into his stomach and out the other side. As blood poured down my arm I straightened, searching the skies for that bug thing again.

"Now I can hear myself think" I snarled to myself as I held the Hunter in place. "Now....what was it.....wait.....AHA" I shouted, lifting both arms in victory as I remembered it.

Unfourtunately for the Hunter, I had my claws in him at the time so it made a big mess. As the Hunter corpse fell to the floor like a peeled banana, I stepped to the side to avoid the fine red mist as it sprayed into the air. "Now I remember!" I shouted, completely unfazed by the Hunter's demise.

"I'ts a washing machine" I roared, delighted with myself. I think I heard someone facepalm themselves in the alley below