Otis sat and waited the sound of gunfire from upstairs getting louder as the survivors neared Otis's position. As the survivors came down the stairs and around the corner, Otis sprung his trap. He vomited on all four of the vile survivors. For you see Otis is what you call a boomer. His role in the infected army is to vomit on any survivors he sees. Because for some reason the smell of his vomit, entices his common brethren into charging blindly at any and all that smell even remotely like it. During which, they will kill and consume any unfortunate survivor in their wake. It is this that Otis had planned for these foul survivors. To see them get raped apart limb from limb by the hordes of common infected.
This time however, things feel wrong. As Otis's vomit covered and dripped off the survivors. The survivors took up or more realistically stumbled into a defensive position .behind the couch in the room. Because the vomit not only covers the target in a smelly, slimy, horde attracting substance, it also blinds the target. This allowed Otis to sneak into a nearby bathroom to watch the unfolding carnage and saved him from getting filled with any unnecessary lead.
The usual sound of dozens of footfalls from every possible direction which was associated with an incoming horde of common could not be heard. The sound and sight was unmistakable, it was like a rush of holiday sale shoppers when the doors opened. It couldn't be because the smell of the vomit wasn't there. Even with the smell of gunpowder thick in the air, the smell of Otis's vomit could not be covered up.
''Had the survivors thrown one of their little hand held things they call pipe bombs?''. No, thought Otis, those diabolical devices had that unmistakable light and sound that distracted the hordes of stupid common infected so easily. So, where in the hell was the horde. The survivors were starting to claim down from the shock of; oh my god a boomer slimed me, and was starting to wipe off the vomit by rubbing parts of their clothing on the poor innocent wall, and couch. Then suddenly, the sound of feet running down the stairs could be heard. Finally, the horde had arrived, late but they had arrived. The survivors thought the same thing and stopped defiling the wall and couch and grabbed their weapons and prepared once again for the horde. Then, the sight of the first few commons came busting out of the doorways in front of and behind the survivors. Then, nothing six or seven common infected had came through those doors total, and that was it.
Otis grabbed one of the commons and pulled him into the bathroom with him to explain this little mishap.
"Where is the rest of your horde common?" grawled Otis.
"On break fat ass what's it to you." Replied the common infected.
"ON WHAT?!"
"On break, what is your hearing gone as well as your ability to see your feet? Union rules we common as you call us get a one hour break in between every three horde attacks."
With that the common infected walked out of the bathroom and was shot dead by a burst of fire from the survivors. Who thank fully did not see Otis.
''Damn it, I hate the f-ing union" stated Otis.
Please review my first fanfic. In hopes it will inspire more. Also, a disclaimer, the only thing I own here is the boomer Otis, everything else is property of the good people of Valve.