Round 1
"SH-SHIT! SHIT! SHIIIT!" the man cried, crackling like a wicked witch as he was bowled over.
Over sixty broken bones, five ribs snapped like tooth picks, thirty reopened gashes all over his back, a nail through the tip of his left eye, tweezers lodged in his jugular, the severed hand of a Witch who had gotten crowned the second she dared laid her greasy fucking hands on him still locked like an iron jaw onto his achilles heel, two steel pipes triumphantly straight as they pierced his earlobes, seven toenails ripped off of his right foot, at least a spoonful of ash resting in a corner of his throat, a two-inch wide air socket spewing flame from where he had accidentally gargled and swallowed some emergency gasoline Katherine had stocked, a bloodshot eye with weird yellow things on it, a flaming arrow through his abdomen (and he didn't even remember where he had gotten that one from), and at least three or four incisions close to his right nipple piercing...well, actually, that wasn't the real one. The real one was his left nipple, the right nipple had been staked by accident after Steve saw him puke up some boomer-colored blood and thought that his best buddy Keith was transforming into a vampire (and any countryman knew full well his duties to exterminate a turning vampire so as to prevent his or her fellow from becoming a damned soul) and the splinters remained, but the injury kind of almost looked like a traditional piercing ... And Keith Junior Ericson was still crazy enough to take on the Hunter.
And that had failed tremendously. Ellis always told him that one of those days, Keith would meet the Hunter who wouldn't bend over for him nicely, and would pounce on him before he had the chance to break his neck with a reverse hammer toss. But up until this point, neither of the two indestructible buddies had met the Hunter they couldn't beat in a fist fight, or been unable to crown the Witch when it was time to throw down. What really bothered him as the Hunter pounded him savagely with its fists of fury was that just last week he had been on the phone with Ellis, who had joined up with three other survivors somewhere in Georgia and was recoiling a story that he had thought belonged in their awesome adventure collection vault where the group had descended a burning building chock full of curb-stompers in under three minutes, and he had predicted that Sunday was a bad day for his shenaningans. Lucky guess.
But none of this would have been happening if that whore with the elongated neck hadn't shown up! He considered spitting at her before prying off the Hunter, but she was nowhere to be seen - Only the sickly trail of acid she wretched from her intestines was left in her wake, Keith cursed as he watched one of the nameless Survivors he had met yesterday melt and reach towards him inside of the acidic puddle.
"SON...OF...A...BITCH!" he screamed, turning his attention back on the Hunter who had somehow fashioned a hole in his shirt...no, the Hunter had clawed his stomach open like a steak, his fingers dancing around it like blades. Keith shook with pain and fought his way upward, clutching the Hunter's arms even with the bleeding gape in his stomach racking him agonizingly. Then in a hot rage, Keith raced his boot into the Hunter's crotch and lunged away, scurrying out of the mob of Infected that surrounded the dead body of the nameless Survivor that had been following him and snapping up the pickaxe he had dropped.
Forcing his way through the tunnels of pain and sacrificing however much blood he probably still had in him, Keith performed a radial slashing twirl with his pickaxe, decapitating and mutilating the Infected that charged at him. He came to an abrupt stop when the Hunter ran at him, freezing like a wolf in a snowstorm, and then expertly hooked his arm ahead of him and swung it backwards just in time to carve open the pouncing Hunter's face before it reached him. With the Hunter dying on his axe, Keith spun and dug under the crowd of Infected, stopping only to slouch and then to crawl and then finally to crash on the ground, his body a stack of bricks.
"Shit...am I do..dd...is this it!?" he struggled to maintain syllables, this time the injury had been two hoarse. At least forty different food poisonings, fifteen yeast infections (they were nothing), and nineteen pints of blood lost over the course of a week and this was how it ended? He refused to believe so, he cursed and rattled himself and twirled a pair of homemade pipe explosives he had swiped from the ammo locker back at home, ready to throw them as the god-damned Spitter returned to the battlefield, the whore's mouth salivating with twice as much acid as he remembered...
And then its head exploded, leaving a crater of soiled remains slithering off of its shoulders as its body tumbled forward.
A man wearing a Cubs baseball cap, a denim blue sweatjacket, jeans with blood splashes all over them, and spiked cleats appeared in Keith's field of vision. He was wielding a shotgun of some kind of variety, and there were at least three glowing objects on his back that all resembled the pipe bombs he and Katherine had made on their honeymoon, except they neglected detonation and instead only seemed to attract the attacking Infected towards him - Keith was impressed, but this stranger was most certainly doomed if he continued to carry on like such.
Keith scavenged a can of aerosol, a moist towelette washed in morphine, and a half-finished bagel along with some bandaids out of his backpack, more comfortable than ever with the temporary distraction this crazy Survivor had given him. Compared to launching himself off of the Kiddieland roller coaster and shooting himself in the stomach with his paintball gun during the descent when he was seventeen, the injuries he'd received from the Hunter-Witch-and Spitter tag team were bug bites.
"This s'hould keep her st'eady until I can make it back to the safe house - Damn aerosol! Always burns like a son of a...gaaah! O...okay! Time to rock!" Keith flipped onto his feet and punched the nearest Infected right between the eyes, his knuckles crackled as he left a blood-covered mark on the victim's forehead, the shock of the impact most surely to have killed the fucker. Although he was confident using his bare fists, Keith gulped with displeasure when he gazed around and saw that not only were he and this buckshot-crazy Survivor alone in the field, there was a fresh Horde of Infected storming towards them in every direction. In one direction there was at least over...fifty? Maybe sixty?
He saw the bearded, buckshot-crazy Survivor whip past him, buding his shoulder and grinning with a white flare on his teeth. Keith steadied a bit to keep himself from dropping, not because of the pain but because of what he saw in the man's face: the look of sure-fired confidence, victory already in his eyes, and the smell of war and triumph dropped through the filings of his teeth like a nuclear shell detonated in the center of a communist camp. Like the...
Nevermind. Keith ignored the Buckshot-Crazy Survivor's features and threw away his examination of him, his eyes glowed when he peered on the ground and he saw a perfectly tuned chainsaw with a guitar attached onto its side by a taut string. A tag was knotted on the guitar's handle, it read: "For the Survivor on the go, with a Horde of mutated zombie freaks in his way, with good tastes in music!"
Keith smiled and armed himself with the fused guitar-chainsaw weapon, one hand on the chainsaw's handle and his other on the guitar strap. "BAD-ASS. Say Mister - Case y'ous don't make it! What do'ye go by!?"
Buckshot-Crazy turned around as his hand clutched a rogue Smoker's tongue from faraway, he stamped the Smoker's tongue down on the ground with his foot before answering, "CHICAGO TED, son!" and then severed the tongue with a blast from his riot gun, sending the other half of the tongue that he had wired with pipe bombs flying back at the poor Smoker who was immediately assaulted by his brethren, shortly before the bombs detonated and wiped them all out in a fiery passion of manmade explosives.
And so Keith Ericson and his buckshot-crazy comrade Chicago Ted kicked Infected ass side by side all day long, achieving feats most modern scientists would have typically deemed impossible...and to think that Keith hadn't used a single medical pack that day.
THE END.
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Left 4 Dead:
Keith vs Chicago Ted
Act 2
DARK CARNIVAL
TONGUE TWISTER - ChicagoTed
HEAD HONCHO - ChicagoTed
TANK BURGER - Chicago Ted
SHOCK JOCK - ChicagoTed
BURNING SENSATION - ChicagoTed
CRASS MENAGIRIE - ChicagoTed
CLOWN'D - ChicagoTed
ACID REFLEX - ChicagoTed
STACHE WHACKER - ChicagoTed
GUARDIN' GNOME - ChicagoTed
SPINAL TAP - ChicagoTed
GROUND COVER - ChicagoTed
WITCH HUNTER - ChicagoTed
MY BODYGUARD - ChicagoTed
PYROTECHNICIAN - ChicagoTed
ONE SPELLING ERROR PER KILL - ChicagoTed
DRAG AND DROP - Chicago Ted
BRAIN SALAD - ChicagoTed
STAND TALL - ChicagoTed
CHAMPION RIDER - ChicagoTed
BADASS. UNLOCKED. - ChicagoTed
SCARAB KIND - ChicagoTed
DEAD STOP - Keith
JUMP SHOT - Keith
GONG SHOW - Keith
CHAIN OF COMMAND - Keith
UNBREAKABLE - Keith
Or was it?
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TO BE CONTINUED. O_o