Author's Note: Here we have the first chapter of Hunter Red! This one is the companion piece to my first L4D fic, From the Desk, telling that story from not long after the Infection to the end of FtD. It was inspired by the novel Raptor Red, a dramatization of evolutionary theories presented by leading paleontologist Dr. Robert T. Bakker upon the discovery of the Utahraptor. I've attempted to recreate the style he used.

Thanks to all of my readers for your support and reviews! I really hope you all enjoy this one as much as you had From the Desk. To those new to my fics, welcome! I encourage you to read From the Desk as well. And finally, let me know what you think! Thank you again, and enjoy!

EDIT: Rewritten for length and detail.

Chapter One

Mid-October

A hooded head appears over the edge of a four-story building, the tallest of the line of storefronts along the block, its face hidden in shadow. The head turns back and forth slowly, as though surveying the brick and mortar buildings. It belongs to a male Hunter, the humanoid predator spawned by the virus that's destroying the world. He crouches, and begins to creep along the edge of the building, following it along the street. He moves on all fours, silent as the night around him. He's following a particular scent-trail that's less than a day old, and getting stronger. It was made by humans, both female; the fear in their scents is what entices him.

The Hunter raises his face to the wind and sniffs the air. There—he catches the scent that is his kind, and his blood. His female twin is on the opposite side of the street, stalking the humans, too. She's just as silent as he is, and for the same reasons; both of them had learned early on that the scent of metal and fire means that they can be hurt from a distance, and that scent is a part of the trail they follow. The twins might have left them alone in favor of safer prey, but there are fewer and fewer humans in this city with each day; this is likely to be the only hunt they'll have for a while, so they're willing to take the chance.

He picks up a scent-message from his sister. I chase soon, her pheromones say, and he hunches low, his belly pressed to the stone beneath him. He breathes in slowly and deeply, letting the air draw every scent particle into his virus-enhanced nose. The scent of their prey is fresh now, and he can hear the low voices of two human women as they mutter to each other. He can't understand them anymore; as with any Infected, his ability to communicate verbally was destroyed when he succumbed to the virus. But that doesn't matter to him; what matters is that they make it easy to track them.

Gathering his legs beneath him, he balances his weight and pauses long enough to choose his target. There's a balcony thirty feet away on a building adjacent to the one on which he's crouched; it's not very large, but it's big enough for him, and the rails won't get in his way. The human girls are ten feet away from it, approaching the alley between buildings. He makes the leap, his powerful legs launching him those thirty feet across to his new perch. He doesn't stop there, though; as soon as his weight is stable on the balcony, he launches himself straight upward again, with only a slight angle to bring him onto the roof of that building.

He's close now; he can smell his sister directly opposite his position on the other side of the street. His leg muscles and his claws start to twitch in anticipation. If he had a tail, it would be whipping around in excitement. The humans have no idea the two Hunters are stalking them; even with the metal fire, it'll only take one leap to bring them down.

"RAAAAAAIIIII!" The Hunter can't help himself. He sounds the chase, and his cry is answered by his sister. Her voice is a little higher than his; he has a faint memory that that difference in timbre had been the only way to tell them apart. Certainly, the humans know there are two predators after them; they open fire, forcing the twins to back away from the edges of the roof. Thankfully, the humans both have terrible aim; all their shots go wide, completely missing the twins. With both Hunters out of their sight, the humans start to run down the alleyway. It's too dark for them to see the trap, but the Hunters know. They give chase, but they follow at a more leisurely pace. They can smell the chrome and rubber of a massive delivery van blocking the way; there's nowhere for the humans to run once they find that obstacle. Let the humans tire themselves out trying to outrun death.

The alley isn't very long, but it's long enough that by the time the two girls reach the blockade, it's too late to turn back. The Hunters sense their chance. The male crouches low, and gathers his legs under him. He takes in a deep breath to pinpoint the sources of the humans' scents; his target is the closest to him, two stories below and five feet across. He expels his breath in a killing roar distinct to his species, stretches out his claws, and leaps. Despite being blind, his aim is impeccable; his prey has only a bare second to spin around before his weight slams her to the ground. Immediately, he hooks his legs around her, holding him steady as he straddles her and immobilizing her arms. His mouth waters as her scent overwhelms him.

He hears a second bodily impact a few inches away, and his sister yells her triumph. Then both of the Hunters begin to tear into their victims with their claws, sending scraps of cloth and flesh flying. The humans try to struggle, but the virus has made the Hunters too strong to throw off; once they have their victims pinned, Hunters are impossible to remove from below. A strong shove from the side could dislodge them, but these two partners were alone; there's no rescue for them. In another few moments, it's over. The humans stop moving; their attackers have torn out their hearts.

The heart is the twins' favorite morsel. It's the first thing they devour from their prey. They do so now, rumbling throaty sounds of satisfaction between each swallow. This was a good hunt; neither of the Hunters had been harmed, and the kills were clean and quick. There's enough meat here to keep them fed for a few days, at least—or as long as they could defend their kills from the scavengers. They're in a good mood.

When he finishes feeding, the male Hunter leans back on his haunches to clean the blood from his claws. His sister keeps eating; she has the habit of stuffing herself full and leaving him to keep watch for rivals and scavengers. That's fine with him; she doesn't bully him when she's asleep. He turns his face to her, as though watching her as she continues to gorge herself.

If he had eyes, he would be admiring her. His instincts won't let him accept courtship advances from his sister, even if she were to try, but he knows on some level that she'll one day make some other Hunter a fine mate—and he will, too. They're both of them prime examples of Hunter beauty; their muscles are well-toned, their claws well-sharpened. Their teeth are strong, and their noses are flawless. They even have superb control over their voices; their lowest range can reverberate almost silently, and their highest can echo for several blocks. If sight factored into the criteria of beauty, they'd still score well; they both sport the same maroon and tawny fur that's enough to hide them from their prey, but also help them stand out to other Infected.

He can't form wholly coherent thoughts anymore, not since he was Infected, but he does form almost verbal concepts. Translated to human language, he's thinking, She's a good partner and a good hunter. We make a good team. Very glad to have her…even if she keeps picking on me.

Finally, the female finishes gorging and sits back to clean her claws, too. The male moves from his kill to sit next to her and rub his head against hers, giving her an affectionate purr. The gesture is returned, and she even turns her head to nip at his cheek, eliciting a squawk from him. He swats at her, initiating a short wrestling session, in which she throws herself at him, he catches her, and they roll about on the ground for several minutes. It's mostly to burn off extra energy, so that they can sleep and digest.

When they're finally ready, they settle against the van. The male lies horizontally against the vehicle, his back against the tire. The female curls up with her back against him, her limbs tucked in against her body. He nuzzles her head again, and she nuzzles back before laying her head on his outer thigh. After a few minutes, he hears her snoring.

He takes a whiff of the air. There's a scent on the breeze that's familiar. It smells of smoke and leather and blood. He knows it's safe to relax now; the owner of that scent wouldn't come close if there had been competition. With that reassurance, he lets himself drift into slumber, just as he hears the wheezing, and the tongue shooting out toward one of their carcasses.