Foreward:

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Left 4 Dead franchise, nor do I claim that I do. In this story, there are trace elements of Left 4 Dead universe. Those belong to Valve.

This is the story of four teenagers, Blaize (Sonja Ignis) and her little brother, Ben, as well as her friends Siobhan and Norman Skibursky as they try to make their way out of Auckland City alive.

But things aren't as they seem. In Auckland City, the strain of the Infected virus, developing its own mind and calling itself the Sickness, will do anything to stop the survivors from escaping and fulfilling their unknown mission.

This story begins just days before the Infection first outbreaks in America, and two weeks before the actual events of Left 4 Dead. It is the 20th December, 2012, Auckland City, New Zealand, and everything is about to go down the drain.

Please, I'd like to have some good feedback, as all of the writers here on want. I've already completed the story, but I'll be looking at the comments I get for this and adjusting the story accordingly.

Also, the way the Avatar of the Sickness speaks is actually in Chiller text on Word. So, instead, seeing as I can't use Chiller text here, I decided to make do with underlined and bold as being what the Avatar of the Sickness speaks.

So, without further ado, here it is. Enjoy :D

-Matthew Co (The Writer)

A/N: The Prologue has now been improved! Enjoy! :D

Left 4 Dead: Lambs 2 Slaughter

By Kiwi Productions

(Matthew Co)

Prologue: Auckland City, New Zealand, 6:28 AM, 20th December, 2012

'What the hell?'

Captain Nicholas Cale shook his head as he heard his partner curse. He and Sergeant Cyrus had been tasked to help out some scientists recapture some diseased chimpanzee test subject that had managed to escape from its cage, but he hadn't been expecting this.

One of the scientists was now lying on the ground, a massive chunk of his throat missing. The walls of the corridor were stained with the man's blood, and Sergeant Cyrus now prodded the wound with the end of his assault rifle.

The grooves alongside the wound revealed that the man's throat had been torn out by a set of monstrous jaws.

'This bite doesn't look like anything a human would do,' Sergeant Cyrus piped up from behind his black gas mask. 'Plus, this looks fresh. It has to be that diseased chimp that did this.'

Captain Cale raised an eyebrow and peered at the wound, his weathered brown eyes scrutinizing every detail.

'It's nothing I've ever seen before,' he admitted, running a hand through his military-style black hair, each individual strand springing right back up after his fingers combed through them. He shook his head. 'Cyrus, go get Animal Control in here.'

The sergeant nodded and stood up, his midnight-black "Rough Riders" combat armour and trench coat causing a barely audible squeak before he turned to walk back down the corridor.

'Can't get reception in here,' Sergeant Cyrus announced, consulting his radio. He turned to look back at Captain Cale, who was still staring at the corpse. 'You coming, Captain?'

The captain shook his head.

'Wherever this messed-up chimpanzee is, if it's become used to taking on unarmed scientists, it's going to be in for a big surprise when it tries to jump a New Zealand Army Captain with a fully-loaded assault rifle, that's for sure,' he replied, giving the sergeant a smile. 'Go ahead. I'll be fine.'

Sergeant Cyrus nodded, and he disappeared down the wide corridor as Captain Cale examined the corpse under the dim, damaged and flickering lights that cast an ominous glow along the corridor.

Around a minute after Sergeant Cyrus' departure, he heard meaty thumps from down the other end of the hall.

Looking up towards the source of the sounds, his eyes widened as he beheld a creature twice the size of a man prowling towards him, as if it were a cat. It was only after a few seconds that he realized that this must be the chimpanzee, its huge form just able to move within the corridor without brushing the walls.

But the only way he could tell it was the chimpanzee was because it looked vaguely similar to one. Its black fur was heavily bloodstained, and there were gigantic wounds all over its body, all leaking pus, greenish blood and other disgusting substances.

Large fangs were sticking out of its mouth, and its eyes were glowing red. It snarled, but Captain Cale could almost swear it was speaking. Paralysed with shock, he strained his ears as the creature seemed to speak in a strangled voice.

'Rise... for the Sickness...' it said as the lights flickered some more.

Captain Cale raised his eyebrow, confused, when movement right next to him alerted him that the chimpanzee wasn't talking to him. As he averted his gaze from the creature to the body of the scientist, his eyes widened in horror as he watched the corpse pick itself up and bare its teeth at him.

He instinctively rifle-butted the scientist back and shot a few rounds into its face, killing it. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears, adrenaline rushing through him as he stared at the corpse, trying to steady his breathing.

And then he remembered about the chimpanzee.

Turning back towards it, he saw that it was now a meter away from him. He could now smell the creature, the noxious mixture of substances that leaked from its skin almost causing him to gag as he heard the thing snarl at him. The smell was so strong that it surrounded the creature in a miasma that assaulted even the pores of his skin, a sick feeling overwhelming him as he felt his skin crawl.

He fell to his knees and began to cough violently, the miasma crushing his insides like a vice and sapping his strength.

Despite this, he started to lift his assault rifle with what remained of his strength to fire at the creature. His index finger squeezed the trigger, but then an almost deafening inhuman scream pierced the air, and the thing leapt at him.

**********

Miles away, in Hamilton, in a cosy, wooden hall, Sonja Ignis stared out of a window, caught up in her own thoughts.

'So Sonja,' Ben Ignis asked her, 'you reckon Mum and Dad are gonna be back home before Christmas?'

Sonja averted her gaze from the window on her left. On the opposite side of the wooden rectangular table, her younger brother by two years tilted his head towards her with eyebrows raised, his blue eyes looking at her expectantly.

There were two other teenagers at the table, waiting for an answer as well; Norman Skibursky, who was sitting next to Ben, and sitting next to Sonja, his younger sister of two days, Siobhan, or, as Norman, Ben and Sonja liked to call her, "Sio-b".

'Nope,' she replied. 'They're staying in America with Grandpa Bill in Fairfield for another week, remember?'

'Rats,' Ben said, scratching his head, dislodging a few visible particles of dandruff. 'A few more nights at St. Mons, then.'

'Well, what's so wrong with staying at St. Monica's College, anyway, Ben?' Norman piped up, scratching the chocolate-brown hair on his head, his clear, handsome face inquisitive. 'I mean, at least you get to spend Christmas with me and Siob.'

'Yeah,' Siobhan added, nodding at Ben before looking at Sonja with her green eyes, her smiling face made more attractive by the freckles that were sprinkled across her nose. 'It'll be the first time you've spent Christmas with us, that's for sure.'

Sonja nodded in agreement. Although she'd been best friends with Norman and Siobhan since kindergarten, she'd never stayed with them at Christmas before.

'Yeah, yeah, but still, Mum and Dad said they'd be bringing presents back with them,' Ben argued. 'Plus, the food at the boarding hostel sucks – it's only when the parents come for lunch that they bring out the good stuff.'

Any further argument was briefly interrupted by the sound of the kettle whistling loudly in the kitchen in the opposite corner of the hall. Norman stood up and went to turn it off as Sonja looked back out the window at the snow outside and sighed. Siobhan and Ben continued on with their debate, unaware that Sonja wasn't listening.

Her attention was dragged back inside again a couple of minutes later as the clinking of mugs and the sweet aroma of hot chocolate announced Norman's return.

Turning back towards the table, she waited as Norman gave one of the mugs to Ben, who downed it quickly, before giving the next to her. She gratefully accepted it and wrapped her hands around the mug, feeling it warm her fingers and dispelling the cold seeping through the window.

New Zealand had never been this cold during summer before. Norman reckoned it was because of the whole "2012 Apocalypse" thing. Siobhan said it was probably the massive efforts to reverse global warming working better than intended, as apparently the world was actually headed into another Ice Age until global warming reversed it, and Ben simply didn't give a damn, just glad that the hall was well-heated.

'Blaze, do you really think that the hostel food is that bad?' Siobhan asked Sonja after taking a sip from her hot chocolate, brushing aside a few strands of her shoulder-length hair that had swung in front of her face behind her ear.

Ben snorted at the nickname Siobhan had given Sonja.

'You're calling Sonja Blaze?' Ben asked in mild disbelief, wiping off the hot chocolate moustache that had formed around his mouth using the sleeve of his red shirt.

'Well,' Norman started, scratching his head again, 'it suits her fine.' He took out a pencil from one of his pockets and grabbed a stray serviette, drew a circle and wrote the word "BLAZE" in the middle of it. 'I mean, first off, she's got those charming eyes of hers… well, who else has red irises? Anyways, she's got the long, natural crimson-red hair, she's hot- yes, Siob, I can see you giving me that look - and because, well, she likes fire. A tad bit, anyways. 'Nuff said.'

Inside, Norman sighed. Somehow, those red eyes of Sonja's had a charm that he couldn't resist. Oh, he'd tried to make her his girlfriend last year, but to his surprise, his own charms weren't enough. In fact, the crowning irony was that out of all the girls in St. Monica's, she was the only one impervious to him.

Sonja smirked approvingly at Norman as he quickly wrote down the reasons around the nickname itself on the serviette.

'Y'know, Norm, I think I'm gonna change the spelling a little bit…' she said, taking the pencil from Norman and inserting an "I" between the "A" and "Z". 'See? That looks better now, doesn't it?'

She gave Norman a smug look and took another sip as he raised an eyebrow at her. She closed her eyes and felt the warm, sweet liquid rush down her throat, nicely warming her up from the inside, the debate about St. Monica's food forgotten.

'Y'know, I honestly think this trip wasn't exactly that good…' Ben said after a few seconds of peaceful silence.

'That's because it's a Year 14 science trip, Ben,' Norman replied. 'Not a vacation.'

'That it is,' Siobhan agreed before turning her gaze at Ben. 'You're still in Year 12, and you're a long way off from the accelerate Science class.' She paused. 'I'd been meaning to ask – how come you're here with us, anyways?'

Ben shrugged.

'It was either come along and agree to behave on this and the next few trips, or be left behind with all sorts of flammable stuff back at the boarding hostel,' he replied. 'Principal Sherman prolly wanted more time to hide the lighters and matches away before I came back – most likely because of that awesome stunt I pulled earlier this year.'

A big grin crossed his face as he remembered that day.

Mr. Christopher Pebbleford paced around the science classroom, watching each of his students as they dissected their rats for Practical. His large glasses sheltered a pair of sharp blue eyes as he ran a few fingers through his long grey beard, witnessing each student doing as ordered.

A smile of satisfaction crossed his face until he arrived at Ben Ignis' section of the lab. The troublemaker, the grizzled teacher knew, had originally tried out for Chemistry, but Mr. Rill wasn't having any of it.

All the Science teachers at St. Monica's College knew Ben was a pyromaniac. The last thing they needed was to put the boy in a room everyday surrounded by flammable chemicals.

Right now, Ben had been suspiciously quiet, especially considering his usual personality, and although Mr. Pebbleford wouldn't admit it, the boy was scaring him.

Walking up to Ben's station, he saw to his surprise that his notes were filled out and that the boy was now stitching up the rat back together with some rough string.

'What is this, Mister Ignis?' Mr. Pebbleford asked him. Ben simply shrugged.

'Nothin', sir,' he reported as he put the last of the stitches in place. 'Nothin' at all. I did the notes, sir.'

Seemingly pleased with his handiwork, Ben grabbed his rat and started walking towards the bin.

Wondering to himself why his student would work unnecessarily hard on a dissected rodent and then throw it away, Mr. Pebbleford looked at Ben's station-

-and then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye as Ben walked, the teacher could spot a length of string leading out of the dead rat's arse, just below its tail. And at the station, he saw the bottle. On it the words "GUNPOWDER – Teacher's Use Only" could be read.

It was with horror that Mr. Pebbleford realized that Ben Ignis had no intention of throwing the rat away. The classroom bin was situated right next to the exit, and he now saw the lighter Ben now held in his other hand.

Ben was only a few steps from the door when he heard "The Chrissy" scream his name.

Taking it as a cue to leg it, he immediately bolted out of the classroom and into the school's Upper Courtyard, lit the makeshift fuse he'd attached to the rat and flung the poor rodent into Principal Sherman's personal flower bed.

As the rat landed amongst the assorted pansies with a meaty thump, Mr. Christopher Pebbleford and the rest of the class arrived. A few seconds passed, and Ben realized that the fuse probably wasn't attached properly.

'Benjamin Neal Ignis!' The Chrissy huffed, his face red with rage. 'Do you realize that what you almost did was simply-'

Boom.

The Science teacher was interrupted as Ben's makeshift rat-grenade went off at last, combusting in a spectacular explosion of dirt, shredded pansies and chunks of rat that sounded similar to a mortar shell landing.

As a cheer went up from the assorted students, Ben punched the air in triumph and malicious glee as students and teachers from other classrooms emerged to see what had happened. Principal Sherman had very bad taste when it came to flowers – Ben reckoned he'd done the school a favour.

The head of his rat, miraculously intact, landed on the concrete next to Ben's feet, and he crouched down and looked at it. Its eyes were looking into his blue ones almost approvingly as he burst out laughing in hysterics.

'Ahahaha…. Oh, they're gonna have to glue you back together…' he chuckled, '…IN HELL!'

A grin crossed his face that, for the weeks to come, persevered despite the three Friday After-School Detentions and the very-near expulsion the Principal himself had slapped him with, saved from full expulsion by a hair-width for reasons undisclosed.

Blaize just smirked. She could remember the reprimanding Ben had received from both their parents. It definitely wasn't something he wanted to experience again, she was sure.

'Mmmmmhm. Sure. We all know it's actually because you wouldn't last a second without your big sister to watch over you to stop you from setting the house and school on fire again, now isn't it?'

Ben bristled, knocked rudely out of his glorious memory by Blaize's remark.

'I can take care of myself!' he protested. 'You just wait and see!'

'Notice how he doesn't mention not setting the house on fire again,' Siobhan smirked at Blaize, much to Ben's torment.

'Nah. That's old news, isn't it?' Norman interjected, defending Ben the best he could – subtly.

'That he's a pyromaniac? Hardly. Setting the house on fire the past few years over and over again simply doesn't get old, now does it?'

'A pyromaniac I may be, but at least I don't suffer from logorrhoea,' Ben retorted. Siobhan whistled.

'I didn't know you could pronounce long words like that, Ben,' she teased him, giving him a smile to show she didn't mean it. She turned back towards Blaize. 'On the subject of news, Blaize, did you see this morning's news, by chance?'

Blaize inhaled deeply through her nose, opened her eyes and looked at Siobhan.

'After almost sixteen years of knowing me, you still haven't realized that I don't watch the news at all?' she said. She only received a shrug from Siobhan. 'So, what's so special on now that's got you so excited?'

'It's... The Sickness,' Norman said, waving his hands to make it sound spooky. 'Turns out, something's starting to go wrong with it after all.'

The Sickness was, as far as Blaize knew, the new virus that Norman and Siobhan had been telling her about last night.

From what she understood, the virus had been discovered in Mexico somewhere recently, where it affected animals, supposedly turning them into zombies. Apparently, its effects were so horrific that its full name was actually "The Sickness to End All Sicknesses".

Norman had cracked a joke about animals eating brains and such, until Siobhan interrupted him to say that strangely enough The Sickness didn't appear to affect the brain much at all. It seemed to make slight alterations to it, which indicated that they weren't zombies at all, but something different.

Needless to say, Norman still insisted the infected animals were zombies.

'What happened?' Ben asked, the mentioning of something going wrong piquing his curiosity.

'Well, as it turns out, a test animal, a chimpanzee that had the virus, escaped after the scientists tried out a test cure on it,' Norman explained. 'While they look for it, someone's bound to get bitten, and then we'll see if the disease affects humans as well,' he concluded dramatically.

Blaize gave Norman a quizzical look.

'You don't seem to be worried about the whole thing,' she said, noticing the lack of concern on Norman's face. 'If this gets out of hand, really bad stuff might happen.'

'I doubt it,' Norman assured her. 'The chances of the virus being able to turn into an uncontrollable outbreak are astronomical.' He checked his watch. 'Well, look at the time. We'd better pack our stuff before everyone else wakes up. By the time we're done with that, Mrs. Smith is prolly going to want us back on the bus pronto.'

Blaize nodded in agreement, and everyone, after finishing their drinks, got up and left to pack their things.