Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead. If I did, I'd be busy making it into a movie or something instead of writing this!

Now I don't know if it's possible for Infected to have children, but for the sake of this story, let's say they can! This takes place in the original Left 4 Dead universe, as I'm not too fond of the second one.

Prologue

Weeping. That was the only sound that came from her throat. It was the only sound that warded off her lesser brothers and sisters from approaching her, that kept anyone from approaching her. And she had a very good reason to want everyone to keep their distance. Not only was her kind naturally anti-social, with their murderous rage activated whenever startled by anything, but she held treasure in her shuddering hold. No, although shinies were attractive to the eye, her treasure was not of that sort. Movement gave away that her possession was of a living nature. A squeak came from the tiny bundle and it nuzzled under her claws. It was a Hunter pup, one of four snuggled against their mother's body, safe in her grasp. The massive foot long daggers, so deadly in nature, was caringly gentle as the Witch stroked along the curious pup's back.

The other pups were stirring from their sleep as well, yipping and tumbling as they began to disperse from their parent to explore the alleyway that was their home. The Witch, although it didn't seem like it through her sobbing, kept a protective watch over her children, making sure they didn't wander too far for her liking. She never wanted them out of her reach, just in case danger should materialize out of nowhere. When a pup did begin to explore near the set boundaries, the Witch would stop her cries enough to reach out and gently pull the curious bundle back. The pup in question would whine and whimper before resuming its investigations like nothing happened. Infantile squeaks rose from the pups as their exploring turned to playing as they instinctively attempted to stalk and pounce each other. But given that they barely had the balance to stand on two legs for any length of time, their attempts were...useless, to say the least.

More movement, and it wasn't from the pups. Maternal instincts starting up, the Witch was already growling softly with each breath and, hearing the alarm, the pups scurried into a turned-on-its-side cardboard box just behind their mother. The movement materialized as a silhouette and it crouched low on all fours, giving a soft growl back. The Witch began to growl louder as the intruder slunk closer and calmed instantly when the shadow gave a familiar bark. Her mate. Relaxing completely, the Witch resume her sobs as the Hunter approached with a furrything in his mouth. He didn't take the earlier hostility personally as he knew it was necessary. Other Infected would love to get their claws into the pups, to eliminate the competition and gain some extra sustenance. Commons were especially dangerous, as they were too mindless to discriminate what they eat. They already lost their only daughter to one, before the enraged mother tore the lesser Infected into an unrecognizable mass of blood and gore.

Sensing the danger as a false alarm, the pups stumbled out of the box to greet their father, especially eager that he has food. The Hunter growled softly as he sat on his heels and lifted the dangling furrything just out of the pups reach. They were still too young and tiny to learn how to hunt on their own, but might as well get them used to having to work for their food. The pups whined some more, jumping and stumbling over themselves, still too clumsy to really master the art of leaping. The Hunter eventually lowered the furrything and the pups grabbed hold with each of their little mouths, giving little high-pitched growls as they all tried to yank the food from their father's hold. The Hunter kept hold, not at all budged by his offsprings' efforts but encouraging them just the same. Giving a growl back, he lifted a clawed hand and gently began to push back each baby before finally relinquishing the food. As they ate, the Hunter turned his attention to his mate, purring as he slinked closer so not to startle her.

She made no move to attack, even going so far as to stop her sobbing as her mate nuzzled her neck and cheek gently, still purring. She gave a gentle shakey purr back as she leaned against his affections, enjoying the scent and warmth of his body. She couldn't control her sobs, but she cried less whenever her mate was around to love and protect her and their children. Whenever he left to hunt, it was her sole duty to defend the little ones and that's when she wept the most. Not only to ward off danger, but because she never knew when or if her mate was ever going to return. Hunting was dangerous business, especially when it involved foodthings and their boomsticks. But these risks were needed. While adult Infected can go for days or even weeks without food, the young ones needed it constantly to fuel their growing bodies. Unluckily, or perhaps luckily, foodthings were rare to come by, so they had to make do with the many furrythings and featherythings still populating the dead city.

Feeling her mate lay down and curling around her as the pups returned to their parents for attention and to be groomed by their father, she felt content through her natural sorrow, despite the distant sound of familiar thunder that began to make itself known.

The thunder was, in fact, the sound of boomsticks coming from the opposite side of the city. The Smoker watched from atop a building as four foodthings fought their way through a horde, his milky eye narrowing as they advanced. There were two groups of foodthings that arrived in the city recently, but seperately: this group containing three males and a female; and the other group which consisted of just two females. Although he was naturally inclined to pursue the smaller, less threatening group, he knew this herd was the one he needed to focus on. For he was not hunting at the moment, he was protecting. These foodthings were getting closer and closer to where his family was hidden, and he was not pleased with this development at all. These foodthings just needed to step in the wrong direction and his children would be in mortal danger, as they had no mother stationed to protect them.

Shattered memories surfaced in his diseased mind. He was out hunting when his mate, a beautiful Witch, has been shot down by foodthings while defending their offspring; it was only by dumb luck that the foodthings didn't notice the little ones huddled in the shadows. After the discovery, the brokenhearted Smoker made no hesitation in relocating their home to what was hoped to be a safer part of the city. And now, this was happening.

Giving a growl that soon turned to a wheezing cough, he followed the foodthings' progress. Although they shouted, he paid no mind to their words. To him, it was all senseless noise that he no longer understood, and so made no effort to interpret. Careful to stay out of view, he jumped down onto a fire escape, hissing softly as the foodthings turned into the alley where he could see his young ones hiding in the farthest corner from the intruders. This was close enough. Parental instinct outweighing any and all caution, the father gave a raspy scream of anger and shot his tongue down to snag one of the foodthings. The slimy, muscular appendage wrapped around what he deemed the greatest threat: the large male with markings all over its arms. Bracing himself, the Smoker yanked and pulled, reeling in the foodthing as it squirmed and yelled to the others.

However, before he can pull the foodthing close enough to claw it to death, he felt pain as his tongue was shot and snapped, freeing the foodthing which landed on the ground with a heavy thud. Knowing he's practically defenseless at this point, the Smoker turned and climbed back up the wall as fast as he could, feeling that the boomsticks were missing him by mere inches. Atop the building once more and safe out of range, he didn't wait for his tongue to grow back as he ran across the roof. Despite this retreat, he was far from abandoning his offspring. Succeeding in safely moving around the food things, he jumped down to the ground at the end of the alley, kneeling down in front of a baby Witch and a baby Smoker, his daughter and son. He was urging them to hide behind a dumpster when he heard the boomstick and felt the pain as his arm was grazed. Crying out harshly, he looked over his shoulder to see the foodthing he snared. With his constant smoke cloud hovering around him, he had been easily spotted and pursued.

Coughing and wheezing in warning, he stood up and faced the foodthing. He stood no chance, instinct told him that, but giving up was never an option. He tensed as the foodthing charged and swiped at it when it got in range. He felt his claws tear through flesh, but didn't really do much damage. The foodthing swung the boomstick in retaliation, hitting him straight in the gut. The Infected wheezed as he felt what little air he had get knocked right out of his damaged lungs. Swiping feebly as he recovered, he gotten a few more slashes in before the foodthing's boomstick struck him first in the chest, then the side, and as he keeled over in pain, right at the back of his head. Dazed, he collapsed, gasping. Vision swimming, the last thing he heard was the whimpering cries of his children and the bang of the boomstick.

Hidden and pressed against the wall and dumpster as best they could, the baby Smoker and Witch watched, horrified as their lone parent was brought down and killed right in front of their eyes. A huge cloud of smoke came from their daddy's body and the foodthing started coughing and backed off. The Smoker child wanted to make a run for it while they still can and tugged at his sister's arm to get her to follow. But she didn't budge, crying a lot more than usual. Coughing in a high voice, the Smoker kept trying to move his sister, but it was too late. Whimpering as the protective cloud began to thin, he pressed harder against the wall as the foodthing shouted something and before long, all four foodthings towered above them. Casting glances to the motionless body of their father, as if hoping he'd somehow get back up to defend them, the young Smoker gave as threatening growl as he could manage as he stood by his sister, whom was still sobbing as if nothing else in the world mattered.

The foodthings spoke, obviously not threatened by the youngster's infantile growls. The Smoker tried desperately to fight the urge to run, not when he had his sister to protect. But that quickly changed as the foodthings stopped talking and the big, marked one pointed its boomstick at his sister. There was a loud bang and the Smoker child jumped as his sister practically exploded, covering him and the surrounding area with blood and scattered pieces of flesh and guts. On reflex, the Smoker shot out his tongue, wrapping it around the foodthing's foot. But he wasn't strong enough to even budge the giant and another bang sounded. He jumped again and cried in pain as his tongue broke. Sobbing to the point that would make his sister jealous, the baby immediately took off running, stumbling and tripping as he was barely accustomed to moving so fast. He could hear the boomstick going off some more and he screamed as more than a few nearly hit him. Falling in a stumble, the Smoker crawled off on hands and knees into a hiding place amongst some boxes. He tried not to breathe or cough and vaguely hoped the green cloud that always accompanied him didn't give him away.

It was still for a long time and the baby Smoker peeked out of his hiding place, sniffling and finally having the little coughing fit he's been holding back. Looking about, he saw it was all clear. Whimpering, he crawled out and stood shakily on his little legs, looking terribly confused as to what to do next. Gripping his newly grown tongue in nervousness, he wandered back the way he came, following the scent of daddy and his sister. Jittery from his recent traumatizing encounter, he panicked and froze every time he heard something and because of this, it took him quite a while to reach his dark alley home. Looking at his daddy's body, he cooed and whimpered along with his natural coughs as he explored the corpse for signs of any life at all. Nothing. He gave a soft cry and paused, as if expecting his father to answer it, and he nudged his parent's body hard when he still wasn't given a response.

After many minutes of poking and prodding and crying, his little mind finally accepted the fact that his daddy was gone. His mommy was gone. His sister was gone. And now his daddy was gone. They're all gone.

He was all alone in this big and dangerous world, without an inkling on what to do or how to survive.

My first L4D fanfic. In dedication to my best friend. I'm already working on the next chappy and I hope everyone enjoys this little prologue.

Preview:
Introducing the human characters and that's all I'm giving! ^^