Left 4 Dead: No Mercy

The highly popular online team shooter game, with a twist – this time it's set in MapleStory! Witness the carnage as our four favorite survivors fight their way through the streets of Kerning City to reach the rooftop of Mercy Hospital for an airlift rescue.

Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, Valve does, and I don't own MapleStory, Wizet does. The only thing I own is the idea to combine these two games together.

A/N: I've temporarily put The Lone Crusader on hold because inspiration has completely run dry – I think I've lost my focus on where the story is supposed to be going from there. Too many disjointed ideas are flowing in at the same time and I'm having trouble connecting all of them. I need time to sort it all out, but in the meantime, I'll entertain you with this little tidbit of action. I recently bought Left 4 Dead and have been having a blast with it, and lately I started seeing 4s everywhere. Four towns, four campaigns, four job classes, four survivors… Yeah, you can pretty much picture how the idea developed from there.

This fic is actually the first of four, and each of them will have five chapters. Only exception is this one with the extra prologue at the beginning. Once I have the next one ready, I'll post it up. But for now, enjoy this bit of juicy action and don't forget to REVIEW! =D

Full Summary

The Infection had hit Bera like a locust swarm – nobody knew what the hell was going on until it was too late. Initially airborne, the initial infection instantly killed over ninety percent of the world's population; 5.6 billion people died within three days. 12 million others with natural immunity, partial or complete, to the virus survived and, for the 11 million who could make it to safety in time, barricaded themselves up inside secure safehouses stockpiled with food and survival supplies – the remaining 588 million degenerated into bloodthirsty, nocturnal creatures with superhuman strength and speed that immediately attack anything that is not of their own kind.

One week after the first infection, the airborne strain died out and only the contact strain prevailed. With the disease now spread mainly through biting, the Infected were very quick to mop up many of the remaining one million Survivors that had failed to make it to safety in time, turning many of them into Infected as well, and killing those who were completely immune. All over Bera, the number of Survivors dwindled as the Infected hunted them down and either killed or converted them, and after a week, only a few hundred were left scattered all over Bera, struggling to survive by the skin of their teeth.

Society as it used to be has completely collapsed. Survival is all that matters now, and for many Survivors still stranded from safety, it's anything goes.

Two weeks after the first infection…

Prologue

Bill held his breath as he cautiously advanced up the alleyway, Olympus leveled in front of him, ready to shoot any Infected that were ready to spring up at him. Behind him three other fellow Survivors were slowly following his advance up the alleyway, their own weapons held high and ready to kill anything that jumped out at them.

The alleyway before him was littered with corpses, and the stench of rot and death was overpowering. A veritable cloud of flies flitted to and fro from different corpses, like a flock of vultures feeding upon carrion. It was all Bill could do not to gag at the odor, but it still made the old ranger's eyes water nevertheless. As he took another step forward, his sharpened eyes, still having perfect eyesight despite his age, caught something that none of the others would have noticed.

"Hold up." The veteran ranger said quietly, raising a hand to indicate that they were to stop. His three companions immediately complied, halting in their tracks, and Bill slowly bent down towards the corpse directly at his feet, reaching out with his left hand to scoop up the green bile that he had spotted on the corpse.

Whoever the poor bastard was, he must have been one obese son of a bitch. The corpse's entire body had been blown off from the upper abdomen upwards, leaving only the lower half of the body and the dangling legs intact, but the width of the lower abdomen from which its gore-ridden entrails spilled out was incredibly wide. And the tangled entrails weren't just ridden with blood and gore, they were coated in green bile as well – the very same bile that Bill now scooped up with two fingers, examining it carefully.

"Ain't seen anything like this before…" Bill muttered quietly to himself disconcertedly. This was the first time he had seen this type of bile oozing from the corpse of an Infected – the only things he had ever seen emerging from an Infected's body for the past two weeks had been either blood or brains. The stench of death in the alleyway may as well have been a heady perfume compared to the stink that the bile gave off – one whiff of the stuff was damn near enough to cause Bill to want to throw up. Fighting down the nausea, Bill barely heard one of his companions say something from behind him.

"Jesus, don't let that stop you from smearing it all over yourself." It was Francis, the crusader. Loud-mouthed asshole that he was, Francis was still a valued member of the group simply because of his strong sword arm, and Bill was used to Francis' attitude only because Francis was the first fellow Survivor he had found after a week of wandering through the zombie-infested streets of Kerning City when the Infection had first hit. The most muscle-bound of the group, Francis could easily plow through a horde of the Infected like a farmer cutting through wheat, and while he happily attracted all their attention like a magnet attracting iron filings, the other three were free to take down the zombies with impunity from range. Still, despite the crusader's strengths, it didn't make putting up with his mouthing off any easier.

That said, it was no surprise that Bill swiftly stood up in response to Francis' quip, and began cleaning his goo-covered fingers on Francis' plate armor.

"They're changing." The old ranger made his point clear both to inform the others as well as subtly reprimand Francis for his ignorant attitude, ignoring the crusader's protesting cries as the lean warrior cringed backwards at the stench of the bile.

"Argh, goddamnit Bill! Urgh, it stinks!"

Next to him, Louis, the bald, dark-skinned priest, dressed in the simple white robes of his job class, chuckled lightly, smirking to himself at Francis' minor misfortune. His smile however, did not last long as a new sound suddenly made itself known to the group; a sorrowful, grief-stricken sobbing could suddenly be heard from behind a nearby door as the echoes of Bill and Francis' argument faded off.

"Someone's still alive!" The female hermit next to Francis said. As Bill glanced over to her, he silently thanked God that she had managed to keep it together for as long as she had.

Zoey was the youngest of the group, barely even nineteen years old. Having stumbled upon her in the ruins of what used to be Kerning's Rogue Academy four days ago, Bill had had lots of trouble calming down the hysterical, sobbing girl when he found her in the middle of the bloody wreckage of her classroom, surrounded by corpses of Infected who had used to be her classmates and friends. The trauma of having to kill her friends before she was killed herself was no doubt extreme, and privately Bill was amazed that Zoey had managed to pull it together after he had found her and turn herself from the complete nervous wreck she had been into the hardened zombie killer before him.

As for Bill himself, he was easily in his sixties, evident in the war veteran's graying hair and beard, though he wore his ranger's mail and moved and fought like a man half his age. Together with Zoey, Bill strode forward towards the door and slowly turned the knob, pushing it open while exchanging his longbow for the crossbow slung across his back. In close quarters, the hair trigger reflex that he used to pull the trigger of a crossbow would be executed much more easily than when he kept the bowstring of his Olympus drawn back constantly. Beside him, Zoey crouched down and quickly entered the room with a swiftness befitting her job class. The young hermit wielded two Dark Scarabs, one on each hand, and had a flashlight mounted on the one she wore on her right hand. The entire room was pitch black, but with a twist of her wrist, Zoey solved that problem as the flashlight activated, piercing the darkness with a wide, spreading beam of light.

Bill listened for a few moments as the sobbing continued, trying to establish the direction from which it was coming from, and gestured with his crossbow to a spot in the darkness directly front of them.

"Over there." The ranger whispered, slowly creeping forward, and Zoey shadowed his footsteps a mere foot behind him.

"Hello?" Zoey called out hesitantly, but there was no response from the darkness beyond them – the sobbing merely continued. Zoey tried calling out again, but once again received no response.

Slowly, the young hermit followed the ranger in front of her into the room, trying to fight down the sense of foreboding that threatened to rise up in her. There was a potential survivor right here in the room with them, so why did she get the feeling that there was something plain unnatural about that sobbing?

It was all Zoey could do not to turn tail and run straight out of the room. The little girl part of her psyche was begging her to turn back, but the rational part of Zoey's mind did not want to abandon the survivor here, nor completely embarrass herself in front of Bill by acting like a scared child all over again.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity creeping forward through the darkness, staring at Bill's back through the illumination of her flashlight, Zoey finally caught sight of the source of the unearthly sobbing – half-lit by the beam of her flashlight, she could see the bent, kneeling figure of a skinny girl, her tiny frame emaciated and bony. Her long hair hid her face, though in the dimness the hermit could not make out its color.

Immediately Zoey's heart went out to the poor girl. She must have gone for several days, if not a few weeks, without food, if she was that emaciated, and the clothing she had on were obviously only tattered rags. Add that to whatever traumatic event must have occurred to her to have her sobbing like that, and Zoey felt like she must have had a sunny weekend at a beach resort in comparison to what this poor soul had gone through.

"It's ok…" Zoey said quietly in an effort to comfort the girl and get a response from her as she slowly stepped forth, slowly pointing her flashlight more towards the girl. "We're going to-"

Outside, lightning suddenly flashed with an accompanying thunderclap, and for a split second, the girl was fully revealed in the light.

Heart leaping to his throat, Bill snapped out his arm, shoving down Zoey's Scarab and preventing her from moving the flashlight any further upwards.

"Lights off!" The ranger commanded in a harsh whisper. Zoey stared at the veteran with widened eyes, shocked at his sudden outburst, but she quietly complied, quickly twisting her wrist to deactivate the flashlight. His heart racing, Bill could see in Zoey's terrified eyes that she had realized what he had realized as well – they had damn near startled a Witch.

Just that split second in which she had been illuminated in the lightning was enough for Bill to recognize a Witch when he saw one. The elongated foot-long claws, grayish pallor of her skin, and the tangled mess of long, thick gray strands that used to be a long flowing mane of hair were all visible to Bill in that split-second, and he had acted as quickly as he could to prevent Zoey from startling her.

The veteran ranger had damned good reason to be scared out of his mind. Witches were the first variation of common Infected that he had encountered, and they were also the deadliest and most terrifying when provoked. Bill had learned the hard way not to disturb a Witch whenever possible – the four large, ugly scars on his abdomen marked where the first Witch he encountered had nearly disemboweled him with a single swipe. That had been almost a week before, shortly after the airborne strain of the Infection had died out, and when Bill had still been on his own. He had barely made it out of that scrape alive, and after he had found Francis and the crusader had once arrogantly suggested full on assaulting a Witch that lay in their path, Bill had nearly smacked the younger man upside the head with the butt of his crossbow.

As slowly as they could, Bill and Zoey began backing away from the Witch, stepping backwards quietly to the open door behind them and resisting the powerful temptation to simply break and run – if they did, the racket they made would surely be enough to provoke the Witch enough into chasing them.

Outside, Francis and Louis stood guard, backs to each other facing each opposite end of the alley. At first all seemed quiet, but Francis' nose twitched as he caught an acrid scent – the distinct scent of sour lemons that he had come to associate with live Infected.

Spinning around to face Louis' side of the alley, his suspicions were confirmed – in the dimness of the street outside, he could make out the vague silhouettes of four Infected charging straight towards their position with wild abandon.

Damn. Looks like they figured out where we are. Francis scowled to himself, and unsheathed his Heaven's Gate, preparing to leap forward to meet the Infected's charge. Next to him, the more timid Louis voiced out his thoughts in a much louder manner.

"Oh shit!" The priest shouted, firing two Shining Rays at the charging Infected before turning and running straight into the room, completely oblivious to the Witch's presence. "Shit, shit, shit! They're coming!!!"

And inadvertently, by barging into the room and making such a racket, Louis attracted the Witch's full attention. Rearing her head upwards in an unholy shriek, she bared her sharpened teeth at those who had dared disturb her rest, hellishly red eyes glowing daemonically in the darkness.

Louis had never encountered a Witch before – upon setting his eyes on the abomination he immediately cringed backwards as the Witch shrieked at him, leaping up from her kneeling position and sprinting towards him. "What the-!!"

"Run like hell!!!" Zoey screamed at him, and she sprinted helter skelter out of the room, unable to hold her fear of the Witch back any longer. Bill got up a second later than her, quickly firing a Strafe attack at the Witch to slow her down before slamming the door closed and cutting her off.

Thinking that the Witch was simply a very scary common Infected, Louis immediately slammed his weight against the door to keep it closed. At first there was only a single bang as the door shook once, a small dent appearing at Louis' head level as the Witch slammed her own weight against Louis' and the door, but the barrier held. Confident that he had stopped her, the priest began to relax, when suddenly a second dent appeared for a split-second before the Witch's clawed arm tore right through, scrabbling for whatever it could reach.

Yelling out in surprise, Louis stumbled back and began flinging Shining Rays with his Kage at the scrabbling arm in a panic. Behind him, Francis kicked back an Infected that had lunged at him before stabbing the blade of his Heaven's Gate through the zombie's gut in a quick Power Strike. The crusader yanked the blade out, spilling out entrails everywhere, but the warrior's confident grin never faltered. As more Infected rushed at him, Francis bellowed a deafening war cry and met their charge with his own, slamming his blade down in a Slash Blast attack and sending several of them reeling backwards.

"DO. YOU. LIKE. THAT?" Louis screamed in the giddy high of battle as he continued to pump Shining Ray after Shining Ray at the Witch's scrabbling arm, each holy blast of energy visibly tearing off chunks of flesh off of the Witch's arm.

"Stick together!" Francis loudly reminded the priest not to get caught up in his killing 'spree' as he drove his Heaven's Gate's blade through another Infected's body, the sharpened mythril sword slicing through the zombie's abdomen like a hot knife through butter. Entrails spilled out onto the floor again, painting the ground red and rendering it slick with blood, but Francis never faltered in his charge, laughing heartily as he left a trail of destruction in his wake, devastating any Infected foolish enough to attempt to match him strength to strength.

Snapped out of his frenzy by the crusader's words, Louis quickly backed away from the door where the Witch's arm stuck out, the female Infected's limb long having gone limp from Louis' relentless spellcasting. The priest quickly rejoined the rest of the group, adding his own spells to the barrage of attacks that were directed at the attacking horde.

However, unbeknownst to any of them, a very tall, lean Infected surrounded by a sickly green smoke had sneaked up from behind them, hidden on the second story of the fire escape behind them. Not even the shrill, hacking cry that the creature gave off alerted them to its presence, focused as they were on dealing with the onrushing horde in front of them.

They weren't even aware of the creature's presence until it was too late. With a loud spitting sound, a long pink tongue shot out of the Infected's mouth, and wrapped itself around Bill from behind, binding his arms to his sides and causing him to lose grip of his crossbow. Struggling futilely, Bill's cries for help went unnoticed over the din of battle as he was quickly dragged back and upwards towards the Infected … but only for a few seconds.

Suddenly noticing the absence of one person's share of projectiles from the sheet of covering fire that was keeping him from getting overwhelmed by the common Infected, Francis glanced upwards behind Louis and Zoey, and caught sight of the culprit.

Goddamned Smoker… Francis thought to himself, and immediately dashed forward to Bill's rescue. That's the third time one caught Bill this week already. I'm getting tired of saving his ass.

"Hang on!" The crusader cried out to Bill as he reached him and, bending his knees in preparation for a jump, took a powerful leap upwards. The moment he was within reach, Francis grabbed a hold of the part of the Smoker's tongue that was just above Bill, and sliced it in two with his Heaven's Gate, allowing the old ranger to drop to the floor beneath them. But even as Bill began falling, Francis gave a mighty downward yank on the part of the Smoker's tongue that he was still hanging on to, preventing the Infected from trying to make a run for it.

With a surprised screech, the Smoker could do little to resist the crusader's strength as the force of the yank pulled it downwards towards the crusader, and the first thing it received was a blade through the ribs as Francis held up his Heaven's Gate to impale the Infected's falling body. The numerous sores and pustules covering the left side of the Smoker's face exploded into a cloud of choking green smoke as the Infected died with a wheezing cry, and Francis quickly shoved the Infected's body off of him, coughing violently. As far as Francis knew the smoke was harmless, but it was irritating as hell and also made seeing from inside the cloud a tad difficult.

Still, it only impaired his long-distance vision – Francis could still see clearly the silhouettes of two Infected rushing at him at close range, one coming at him from behind while another had slipped past Zoey and Louis' sheet of fire, lunging for his throat.

With the blade of his Heaven's Gate still stuck inside the Smoker's body, Francis knew he had no time to extricate his blade from the Infected's corpse. In his peripheral vision he spied Bill's crossbow lying at his feet, and the crusader came to a quick decision.

Lashing out with his left foot, he caught the Infected lunging for his throat in the groin, knocking it backwards. The zombie gibbered madly at him, apparently not feeling any pain from the blow, but the distance the crusader's kick had driven it backwards gave him the few precious seconds he needed. Hooking his right foot around the handgrip of the crossbow, he quickly jerked it upwards, sending the weapon sailing up into his waiting hands. Quickly grabbing Bill's forearm and yanking the war veteran to his feet, Francis let the old ranger take his own weight the moment he was back up, and turned his attention towards the Infected attacking them.

Firing from the hip, Francis fired a flawless shot that took off the closer Infected's head, and its body continued sprinting forward purely on momentum for several seconds before smacking into a nearby wall, its legs apparently not realizing it was dead. Swiftly recocking the crossbow, the crusader swiveled around and fired the crossbow again one-handed without even bothering to aim; this shot blew a hole the size of a dinner plate in the sternum of the Infected attacking them from behind, hurling it backwards. Turning to face Bill, Francis gave the ranger a wide grin and tossed him back his weapon. "Merry Christmas."

As they moved to rejoin Zoey and Louis, Francis saw that even more zombies had been attracted by the din of the battle, and were adding their own weight to the numbers that were already pouring against them. The crusader stepped forward again, hacking apart any Infected that stepped too close to the group while Bill and the others gave him covering fire. But there were too many for a single man to hold back, and even as he struck down any Infected charging at and past him, several of the zombies managed to make their way past him and attack the others directly.

Sensing that the odds were stacked too highly against them for comfort, Zoey swiftly reached down to her belt, holstering one of her Scarabs and unclipping a special device she had put together and had been saving for such an occasion.

They said that Infected were always attracted by the highest-pitched sound generated in their vicinity that they were capable of hearing. They generally ignored other lower-pitched noises even if the other noise was of a much louder volume, and Zoey had used that knowledge to great effect. The device she tossed over the heads of the horde had a modified smoke alarm attached to it, and the shrill beeping that it gave off would definitely be able to divert the Infected's attention from themselves.

Of course, she had shouted "Fire in the hole!" before she threw the device for good reason too – as the Infected attacking them suddenly switched targets and stampeded for the small gadget like hungry dogs being thrown a treat, all three of them ducked behind a nearby dumpster, covering their ears. Francis hurtled over the dumpster a second later, joining them and crouching down, though the masochistic crusader didn't bother covering his own ears. A few seconds later, as the device tumbled and rolled further down the alley, the zombies chasing after it like rabid dogs, the entire alleyway shook in an ear-splitting explosion.

Blood sprayed outwards as the horde was reduced to a fine red mist by the improvised pipe bomb that Zoey had made. Gobbets of flesh and severed limbs rained down all around them as the Survivors recovered from the explosion. As Louis straightened and began to catch his breath, a sound that he had been beginning to think he would never hear again began to make itself known – the familiar roar of an airship's engines.

Immediately glancing upwards, he saw the beam of the ship's spotlight first as it panned over the rooftops before catching sight of the ship itself – it turned out to be one of the smaller craft that used to ferry beginners from Maple Island to Victoria. Of course, when the Infection had broken out, Maple Island had been one of the few safe refuges left on Bera for survivors, other than fortified bunkers on the Victoria mainland. The floating island was one of the few places on Bera that the Infected could not reach without use of technology. Now, instead of ferrying people from Maple Island to Victoria, the ships now did the opposite, regularly going out on scouting trips into the Victoria mainland to look for stranded survivors and bring them back to safety of Maple Island.

"Hey!" The priest called out as loudly as he could in an attempt to be heard over the small airship's comparatively loud engines. "Down here!"

Apparently, the airship's pilot didn't hear him, for it continued sailing over the Kerning rooftops, not pausing or even slowing down in response to Louis' cries. Nearly panicking and not wanting to be denied rescue, Louis broke formation with the others and ran after the chopper, waving his arms in the air and continuing to shout at the airship despite the cries of his comrades to come back.

"We're not infected!!" Louis continued to shout, completely oblivious to the lithe shape on the rooftop that had been briefly illuminated by the ship's searchlight as he ran out of the alley and into the street outside. "Down here!!!"

Growling lowly, the shape took a massive leap without even a whisper of a sound, jumping from fire escape to pipe to rooftop as it silently followed Louis out of the alley. As the priest emerged out into the street, he began to slow down, apparently noticing that the airship pilot had completely failed to hear him as the airborne vehicle continued to sail away, over the rooftops of distant buildings, the roar of its engines dying away.

"Damnit!" Louis swore loudly, staring off longingly at the departing airship. Rescue had come so close, and now just seconds after finding it, it had flitted away so far…

Caught up in his disappointment, the priest never noticed the lithe shape position itself on a fire escape above him, its lean body tensing and coiling like a spring…

And with an unearthly shriek, the Hunter pounced, smashing its entire weight onto Louis' chest just as the priest had whipped around to face it upon hearing its scream.

Louis was on the ground in a second, screaming in terror as the Hunter began ripping and tearing into him with the claws that had once been its fingernails. Frantically the priest tried to beat the gibbering Infected off of himself, but it was hopeless – the Hunter's weight bore down on his chest until it felt like a dump truck was sitting on him, and pushing against it was like trying to push down a concrete wall. The fact that spikes of pain lashed against him every time the Hunter raked its claws against his skin, leaving several deep scratches every time, didn't help his concentration very much. All in all Louis was in a complete panic, and somewhere in the back of his mind he regretted breaking formation with the others – that mistake would apparently cost him his life here.

Suddenly the Hunter's weight disappeared as something shoved it off him, and Louis quickly looked up to see who his savior was – apparently Zoey had been the first to reach him and had kicked the Hunter off him, and was now pumping throwing stars into the Infected's body at an incredible rate. The Hunter staggered backwards as each Lucky Seven impacted against its body and forced it back a step, but it continued snarling madly at the female Survivor, struggling against the stream of shurikens as it scrabbled frantically in a futile attempt to reach Zoey with its claws.

Struggling to sit up, Louis quickly reached out with his Kage and focused his mana into a single spell, intending to aid Zoey in disposing of the Hunter before it could escape. The moment it was ready, the priest flung the Shining Ray straight at the Hunter with perfect timing – just as Zoey's shuriken canisters ran dry, the spell slammed into the Infected's chest, blowing open a hole in its chest the size of a barrel and hurling it backwards several feet into the air.

Unfortunately, as misfortune would have it, the Hunter's body landed right on top of a nearby car – a car that still had its alarm activated.

The impact of the Infected's corpse hitting the car's hood was more than strong enough to set off the alarm, and its shrill rapid beeping, louder and even higher pitched than any pipe bomb's beeping, reverberated throughout the empty street around them.

"Oh, this is gonna get bad…" Bill remarked gloomily as he and Francis quickly regrouped with Zoey and Louis. The car alarm was sure to attract another horde – the damned siren was so freaking loud that it could probably be heard around the entire block.

Surely enough, an answering cry came from the Infected all around the city, for all the world sounding like a million wolves howling and baying for blood. Ejecting her dry Steely canisters, Zoey loaded in a fresh pair of Hwabi containers and recocked her claws, priming them for battle. Helping Louis to his feet, the four Survivors shifted forward out into the street as they prepared for a fight, moving as one in a diamond formation, covering all four angles around them and leaving no blind spot.

But as the first wave of Infected appeared, it became apparent how futile their preparation had been.

All around them the Infected poured out of doors, windows and alleyways like ants swarming out of an anthill that had been stepped on. Even on alleyways and the street behind them that had been blocked off by fences, the zombies sought to climb over the flimsy barriers, in such numbers until they were no longer grabbing onto the fences themselves but onto the backs of their own kind in an effort to climb over.

And from the open intersection in front of them came a veritable wall of bodies; there were so many of them that Francis could not even begin to count how many there could possibly be. The Infected flowed towards them from all directions like an endless river of death, and the crusader stared grimly at the onrushing horde.

This was not how he had planned to go out.

Behind him he could sense Louis practically shaking in fear – it was obviously the priest's first time seeing the Infected in such earthshaking numbers, and frankly Francis didn't blame him. The first time the crusader had encountered such a horde was when he had still been wandering alone, and the only way he had managed to survive was by running like hell – running like hell and never looking back. Even after the encounter he had been shaking in his boots for hours.

Glancing to his left, he saw Zoey bite her lower lip, her upper lip visibly trembling, and though her poise was stoic, Francis could see that she held her Scarabs in an unsteady grip. Her hands were shaking.

It'll be ok, Zoey. Francis thought to himself. Between the four of us, no damned Infected horde is gonna get in the way of us making it out of here.

And finally sneaking a look to his left, he saw Bill stand even straighter, his jaw tightened, his grip on his crossbow white-knuckled, the cigarette in his mouth not budging an inch. There was no trace of fear in the old man's eyes, only resignation and sheer determination – apparently Bill knew their chances were not good. Though he had every intention to survive, the war veteran knew that it was very likely that he would die here, but he wasn't going down without taking as many of the Infected down with him as he could.

You and me both, old man. The crusader thought, turning to face the horde in front of him. I guess we're not so different after all.

Grimly bringing up his Heaven's Gate into a ready stance, Francis made ready for the fight of his life when he suddenly stopped.

They said that sometimes one could sense the presence of other creatures from afar if they shared a sort of affinity or kinship – Francis had once doubted the truth of this claim, but over the past week he had seen increasing evidence of such a thing. Bill had a penchant for spotting and icing Smokers before the rest of them did, and like the ranger, Smokers were incredibly accurate long range attackers, with the way they used their insanely long tongues to ensnare their victims. Zoey had a knack for hearing Hunters and alerting the others to their presence, since the hermit was a master of stealth herself, and it was thanks to that that she had been the first to realize a Hunter had been stalking Louis, and had been the first to rescue him.

And now Francis found the final straw of evidence in himself – he sensed the thing approaching before the quaking that its footsteps generated could even be felt under their feet. Rumbling as its approach was, the very first sign of it that the others perceived was an incredibly loud, low roar, much lower than the typical high-pitched shrieks and gibbering of a common Infected.

And directly succeeding the roar was an immense crash as a car far behind the horde was suddenly sent flying upwards and forward, in the Survivors' general direction. The automobile came to a crashing stop just mere feet to their left, rolling several times as it hit the ground and flattening several of the common Infected that happened to be in its path, reducing them to messy splotches of dark red paste on the ground. It's roll finally halted as it smashed through a section of the fence behind them, flattening that as well, along with the throng of Infected that had been clambering over it.

Francis stared ahead grimly, tightening his grip on his Heaven's Gate. It was approaching, and fast… He could feel his heart beating wildly against his ribcage, its palpitating increasing in fervour with every step the thing took towards them. The sheer weight of the creature's primal power pressed against his chest, constricting his breathing and locking his throat. With a growl, Francis pushed aside the sensation and prepared himself for whatever was approaching – whatever it was, it definitely wasn't going to be pretty.

But when the monster was revealed in the light by a nearby car's still-active headlights, Francis' mouth fell open, disbelieving.

You've got to be fucking kidding me… A goddamned Tank!?

The hulking monstrosity rushed towards them as swiftly as its small, stubby legs would allow - that is, small and stubby in comparison to the rest of its body. As far as actual size was concerned, the Tank's legs were the same size as any regular human's, but its upper body muscles had developed and swelled to inhuman proportions - describing it as Herculean would have been a sore understatement. Its incredibly muscled arms were almost twice as thick as its legs and were long enough to reach the ground, and its chest was even wider than the car that it had punched towards them. Even its shoulder muscles had swelled to the point that its head was a mere stud in the sea of muscle that had used to be its shoulders. As it charged forward, each thrashing step made like a giant hulking gorilla, it smashed aside any Infected that happened to be in its way. It grabbed one that was running directly in front of it, and plunged it into the ground next to it - the unfortunate zombie's entire upper body was instantly crushed into a pulp by the impact. Lumbering as it was, the length of the Tank's stride and the frequency of its steps was enough for it to outstrip all of the common Infected scurrying towards them around it. A swing of both its massive arms and it sent another three Infected in front of it flying to the sides.

"Run, or shoot?" Louis asked in a voice that bordered on panicky. The priest was already starting to back away slowly, though he kept his staff raised and pointed at the stampeding Tank. There was a lot that Louis hadn't seen, Bill realized - as the priest was the most recent addition to their party, having joined them only a few days ago, he only had experience in dealing with Smokers and Hunters, the most common special Infected that harassed them; he had never seen the deadlier kinds that the Infection had produced, and obviously had never seen a Tank before either.

"Run or shoot!?" The priest asked again in even louder, more panicked voice. The sight of the giant Infected barreling straight towards them like an unstoppable train was more than enough to make any man quail in terror - Bill could sense that Louis' morale was about to break. If he didn't make a decision soon and tell them what to do, Louis was bound to do something stupid on his own.

"Both!" Bill commanded sharply, and took off back into the alley they had come from, switching from his crossbow to his Olympus and firing off an Arrow Rain as he ran. The technique immediately floored a sizable portion of the horde in front of them, the arrows piercing every body part imaginable, but the Tank continued charging through the storm of arrows as though the shafts were mere raindrops. The others followed him promptly, letting loose with their own weapons as they sprinted after him. Louis flung a Shining Ray in the Tank's direction, but the giant Infected simply shrugged off the spell, the blast of holy energy exploding against its vastly broad shoulders with no apparent effect. Zoey tossed a giant Avenger shuriken as a follow-up, the enhanced throwing star cutting through and bisecting several of the common Infected in front of the Tank before impacting with the giant mutated zombie itself, but it simply batted aside the oversized throwing star and sent in spiraling into the horde's vast ranks behind it instead, roaring savagely at them.

Sprinting down further into the alley and turning round a corner, firing off spells all the way, Louis desperately searched for a way out - the Tank seemed damn near invincible! They couldn't possibly run from it forever, it would eventually catch them and pound them to a pulp. There had to some way to evade it and leave it behind somehow!

Spying a nearby fire escape, Louis noted contritely at the back of his mind that it was the very same fire escape the Hunter had pounced him from. Still, the fire escape was accessible - a ladder extended from the bottom of the escape to ground level. And the fire escape led to the roof a building four stories high; the fire escape itself was incredibly narrow, no way the Tank would be able to follow them up there. Even if it attempted to climb up the fire escape, the metal railings would probably give way under its sheer weight, and that sheer weight also meant that there was no way in hell it would be able to reach the top of the roof by jumping.

"Get to the roof!" The priest shouted over the din of the Horde, pointing up at the fire escape. As the four of them ran for it as fast as their legs would allow, Francis stopped short just mere feet from the ladder, allowing the others to go up first.

"Go, go, go!" The crusader shouted at them, turning on his heel and facing the alley which the Tank would be barreling down only seconds from now. Raising his Heaven's Gate in an ready stance, Francis cast Power Guard and immediately felt the protective barrier form itself around his plate armor - he was going to need all the help he could get in holding off the Tank. Staring down the alley, past the blade of his greatsword and waiting for the Tank to round the corner, Francis growled in anticipation, preparing himself for one hell of a fight.

"Come on, come on!" Francis muttered to himself, psyching himself up for the encounter. Francis stood his ground only because he knew that Tanks could be beaten. It just required... certain special circumstances; circumstances that they just didn't have now. Perhaps it would have been much easier if they could somehow get their hands on better equipment, but with their current weapons, they might as well have had been beating against a titanium wall with sticks and stones. Still, he was only seeking to stall the Tank and buy the other Survivors time to escape, not kill it. But it didn't make facing the Tank any less scary - yeah, he admitted it, even if it was only to himself. Despite his tough and fearless exterior, deep inside Francis was scared shitless right now.

If there was any Infected that Francis couldn't match strength to strength, it was a Tank. He could break himself out of a Smoker's tongue snare no problem thanks to his sword - sometimes if he was pissed off enough, he could even tear the tongue apart with his bare hands while it was coiled around him. Same thing went for a Hunter's pounce - the crusader's training in hand to hand and close combat plus his raw physical strength enabled him to kick off any Hunter that managed to pounce him, and sometimes he could even prevent the Hunter from pouncing him entirely by timing a retaliatory strike simultaneously with the Hunter's lunge.

But when it came to fighting a Tank, Francis was completely outmatched. Sure, he was slightly faster and more agile than the lumbering hunk of muscle, but even one glancing blow from the Incredible Hulk over there and Francis could easily have a bone broken or an organ ruptured - that kind of damage needed either Louis' healing expertise or an Elixir potion to fix. Fighting a Tank one-on-one was always a touch-and-go matter; Francis had to stay one step ahead of the Tank at all times, or he would be on the receiving end of several bone-shattering blows.

It was a massive credit to the crusader's courage that he didn't break and run the moment the Tank rounded the corner with several Infected in tow, jumping around the turn and bellowing at them as it charged, for all the world looking like a very pissed off King Kong. There were still two Infected running in front of the Tank in the way - Francis immediately cut the first one down with a single slash from his greatsword, but as he moved to attack the second one the Tank did something completely unexpected.

Instead of charging forward and smashing aside the second zombie, it grabbed the second zombie and hurled it bodily at Francis from afar. The Infected died with a surprised screech as the Tank's iron grip instantly crushed its spinal column to powder and reduced its midsection to a pulp, but its carcass carried more than enough speed and kinetic force behind it to instantly floor the crusader as the Tank flung it at him.

Francis cried out in pain as the force of the flying corpse slammed him straight into the brick wall next to him, the impact against the cold and unyielding surface of the brick and mortar unrelentingly painful against his skin despite the protection that his plate armor gave him. Dazed and with the wind knocked out of him, Francis could only stare up, breathless and stunned, at the Tank in front of him as the massive Infected prepared to deal a final blow that would surely reduce him to a mere red smear on the wall.

Hearing Francis' cry, Bill immediately spun around and saw the Tank standing over the fallen crusader, beating at its chest in victory like some oversized gorilla. Knowing he had only seconds to act before Francis was literally flattened against the brick wall, Bill hastily tossed aside his Olympus, not even bothering to hoslter it, and withdrew his crossbow, spraying bolts at the Tank in a full auto fusillade in a desperate attempt to draw its attention away from Francis.

He succeeded spectacularly; with a frustrated bellow, the Tank turned to face the source of its disturbance, swinging away with its gargantuan arms. Bill nimbly dodged a blow, continuing to pump full-auto rounds into the creature's belly at point blank. Though his constant barrage of fire seemed to have no visible effect on the Tank, he knew his was succeeding in buying time for Francis to escape - he was dimly aware of the crusader picking himself up and clambering up the fire escape ladder behind him. Satisfied that the job was done, the veteran ranger narrowly avoided another swing of the Tank's arms as the herculean Infected attempted to take his head off again, and swiftly backed away as the missed blow smashed into the brick wall on the opposite side of the alley, instantly reducing it to a pile of rubble.

Roaring in outrage, the Tank grabbed a piece of rubble almost as wide as its shoulders were broad, and hurled it at the two Survivors still clambering up the fire escape. Louis, higher up than Francis, easily dodged the crude projectile by simply climbing upwards, but Francis was in danger of being knocked off by it as it rolled down the fire escape's stairs - the priest shouted a quick "Heads up!" to warn the crusader.

Acknowledging Louis' warning, Francis immediately reared backwards, the rolling chunk of concrete missing him by inches and coming to a halt in front of him. Quickly stepping over it, Francis resumed his frantic climb upwards.

Pumping several more rounds into the Tank's back for good measure, Bill turned to face the fire escape's ladder and was instead greeted with a close-up view of a common Infected's face; - the zombie had taken the opportunity to dash up to him while he had his attention focused on the Tank. For an instant the world slowed down around him, and he perceived everything with crystal clear clarity - perhaps this was what men experienced in their final moments before they died. He could smell the Infected's rotten, fetid breath on his face, and could see with vivid clarity the gray, pallid flesh of its face, the blackened, sunken eyes, and what few yellow, rotting teeth that the zombie still had as it opened its mouth to let out a screech in the ranger's face, and Bill grimaced at the fact that these were the sensations that he was going to carry out of this world in his final moments.

But before it could even begin to try to take a bite out of him, the zombie's head exploded in a shower of gore, and as its headless corpse toppled to the ground, Bill noticed the hwabi shuriken embedded in what was left of the Infected's neck.

Quickly glancing upwards, he saw Zoey at the top of the fire escape, wielding both her Scarabs with a vengeance as Louis and Francis clambered over onto the roof behind her.

"Go on!" Zoey screamed down at him as she hurled another pair of hwabis down, blowing two fist-sized holes in an Infected that had been lunging for him from behind. "I'll hold them off!"

Wielding her Scarabs and throwing hwabis with preternatural accuracy, Zoey instantly took down any Infected that got too close to Bill as the war veteran began his own climb up the fire escape. Another pair of hwabis found their mark at the back of an Infected's head as it leapt for Bill, attempting to sink its jaws into his neck, and its head split open like an overripe melon, spilling out blood and brains everywhere before it could so much as touch the ranger.

Bellowing at the escaping Survivors, the Tank rushed forward and leapt up as far as its legs would allow it, grabbing onto the edges of the fire escape's bottom level with its massive hands, inadvertently blocking off the passage for the rest of its lesser brethren due to its bloodlust. Though the metal grating that served as the first floor of the fire escape had already bent thanks to its weight, the Tank still proceeded to use the entire fire escape as a crude ladder, with each floor like an individual rung of a ladder. Bill barely managed to stay one floor above the Tank's inexorable upward advance, moving as swiftly as he could, but even Zoey's repeated Lucky Sevens did litle to slow it down - no matter how many hwabis she hurled at it, it simply shrugged them off like swatting aside flies. With every overhand swing that brought the Tank one storey further up, the fire escape bent more and more, giving way underneath the Tank's immense weight. By the time it was one floor directly beneath Zoey, where Bill was helped onto the roof by Francis, the fire escape was already on the verge of collapsing, its metal frame bent and twisted by the Tank's incredible strength.

Throwing a final pair of hwabis at the giant Infected directly below her, Zoey turned around and tried to leap for the roof just as the Tank swung its arm in another overhead grab, coming inches from her ankle and pulling down the floor of the fire escape she was standing on by half a storey. Suddenly finding herself standing on no-longer solid ground, Zoey stumbled backwards and lost grip of one of her Scarabs, the weapon falling four stories down to the street below - she was saved from that very same fall only by a thin piece of railing still attached to the side of the fire escape.

She had only seconds to get out of there - one more swing and the entire fire escape would collapse, taking both her and the Tank with it. There was no way she would survive that fall - if she didn't get out of here, she was a dead woman.

Fear threatened to lock her legs in position, to root her to the spot, but if she didn't help herself here, nobody would - she could see Francis waiting for her at the edge of the roof, frantically gesturing at her to "get your ass in gear!" She was still out of the crusader's reach - there was no way he could grab her and pull her off in time.

Fighting against the paralyzing terror that still threatened to immobilize her legs, Zoey took a running step forward and made a leap of faith towards the crusader just as the Tank made another swing - this one completely tore what remained of the fire escape off the side of the building, the fire escape's securing bolts unable to withstand any further strain. Zoey's leap carried her upwards, and for a second she thought that she would be able to reach Francis, that he would be able to reach her and carry her to safety... and then her upwards momentum halted, and she began to fall downwards - just mere inches from the rooftop.

Zoey had never been more terrified in her life. She couldn't die here, she couldn't! It was all too soon, she was only nineteen! She didn't want to die! Not now!

"Francis...!" Zoey cried out in terror, her voice breaking in fear as she reached out with her hand desperately towards the crusader. For a split second she thought that she was too far for Francis to reach, that the crusader wouldn't be able to react in time, and for a truly insane moment, that the crusader might actually leave her for dead. Zoey's heart quailed, and tears of terror nearly leaked from the corners of her eyes, silently imploring Francis to save her.

And a wave of relief flooded over her when she felt the reassuring solidness of Francis' grip closing around her wrist - for a moment that was all she could feel, that firm grip the very embodiment of the definition of safety. She was dimly aware of the Tank's impotent roar of rage below them being cut off suddenly by a loud splat; if she hadn't been in her current predicament she would have found it quite amusing.

Her heart still hammering in her ribcage due to her close shave, Zoey's breathing was fast and harsh as Francis easily hefted her up to the rooftop, placing her gently on the floor next to him with both arms before collapsing backwards against the wall behind him, panting heavily himself. Bathed in cold sweat, Zoey could hardly bring herself to speak as she gasped and gulped for air, but Louis voiced out her thoughts for her unintentionally.

"We made it..." The priest exclaimed with a growing smile on his face despite his own heavy panting - apparently they were all harrowed and exhausted from their encounter with the Tank. "Haha, I can't believe we made it!"

"Son, we just crossed the street." Bill said suddenly, reminding him seriously that they weren't out of the woods yet. The war veteran paused for a second to light another cigarette, and got to his feet. "Let's not throw a party until we're out of the city."

While it certainly killed the celebratory mood they had at making it out of such a scrape in one piece, it kept them realistic about their situation. If merely crossing the street was that harrowing, who knew what horrors they would have to endure to escape from the city full of Infected?

There was a table of supplies nearby below a hastily-secured tarp that served as a shelter; Bill walked straight towards that and sat down next to it, the others soon following suit. They could use it as a safe spot until they were ready to move out again - they were going to need the rest. Because he knew, without even needing to look over the other side of the building, that the streets below them were teeming with hordes of Infected.

A/N: Ok, I can't believe I made it writing this far! Geez, and it's only a prologue. Ok, I'm gonna set up a review system here and it's unique because for once, YOU get to control how the story goes (to a certain extent)! In essence I'm letting you play the role of The Director from the original Left 4 Dead.

It works like this: I tell you what locations the Survivors are meant to go through in the next chapter, and you can provide suggestions for any dramatic, terrifying, or even humorous situations that you think can happen there if you have any ideas - include such ideas in your review.

By the way, try to refrain from giving ideas in which Survivors die - it's very hard to explain how they suddenly pop up in a closet, alive and kicking, later on in the story.

If the situation involves zombies, keep in mind there are only six types of Infected that can be used - the common Infected, the Smoker, the Hunter, the Boomer, the Tank and the Witch. I've described the Smoker, Hunter, Tank and Witch in this prologue already, but I'll run through a brief description for all your benefits.

Common Infected are huge in numbers, especially when rushing in a horde, but are easy to put down (imagine a mandatory number of 20 HP).

Smokers and Hunters are more resilient (250 HP), and Smokers are able to attack from long range with their tongues and drag Survivors away from the group, but they always give away their position with a distinct hacking and coughing sound. Any survivor (except Francis) ensnared by a Smoker must have another Survivor free them by cutting the tongue or killing the Smoker.

Hunters, specialising in assassination attacks, are more silent, except when they are crouching in preparation to pounce, upon which they release an audible growling. Any Survivor (except Francis) they pounce is rendered helpless and it requires another Survivor to knock the Hunter off.

Boomers are more fragile (50 HP), and are incredibly bloated which make them easy targets when caught in the open. However upon dying they explode in a shower of bile, and they are also capable of vomiting that same bile on Survivors; the bile has the unique properties of attracting a Horde, causing all nearby common Infected to attack the slimed Survivor.

Tanks are incredibly resilient powerhouses (4000 HP) that can knock cars and Survivors around and send them flying with single blows. It also has the uncanny ability to rip out a chunk of concrete from the ground and toss it at the Survivors no matter whether it is standing on rock, gravel or soil. One large vulnerability is fire - the Tank's huge muscle masses are highly flammable, and if left alone after being set on fire, the Tank typically lasts only 40 seconds - firing away at it only accelerates its death. Survivors have to gang up to bring the Tank down if they wish to avoid serious injury. I will award anybody who can provide a plausible, realistic idea in which a Survivor defeats a tank singlehandedly with the "Man vs Tank" achievement, and honourable mention in this story xD.

Finally, Witches are fast, resilient and deadly little bitches (1000 HP), but they leave the Survivors alone unless intentionally disturbed. It is entirely possible for the entire team to sneak past a Witch one by one, but not only is it time consuming, it is very hazardous as any carelessness can startle the Witch and cause it to attack. It can instantly incapacitate any Survivor in a single swipe, and once the Survivor is floored they begin ripping away at the downed Survivor until the Survivor is dead or the Witch is. Witches generally attack only the person who disturbed it, but sometimes if someone else constantly gets in the way, the Witch will attack that someone else instead. If set on fire, the Witch dies after 10 seconds, but normally in those 10 seconds she's able to incap the person who set her on fire to begin with.

Details of next chapter: the Survivors have to fight their way down the building they just climbed up, through a series of apartments until they reach ground level, back out another alley onto the street full of Infected and has a subway entrance at the end of the street, leading to a safehouse. Just outside the subway entrance is an alarmed car. Any ideas with what to do with these circumstances will be welcome in your reviews =D